#literally Dean does smoke this is a fact

[autisticandroids]

broad strokes of my interpretation of 5x04 the end/the overall guidelines i pay attention to when writing endverse fic

it's about sam. in both a positive and a negative sense, all of endverse is built on sam's absence. on the one hand, there is a freedom and joy for dean that comes from being rid of sam. sam and dean don't really... like each other anymore from s4 onwards, and their unbreakable bond becomes more like a curse to both of them. in a way breaking it is a mercy, see: free to be you and me dean sections. sam's absence allows dean to form meaningful relationships in a way he's basically incapable of with sam around. and to dean sam is a ball and chain, he is first and foremost a duty, not a brother or friend. watch out for sammy. without that millstone around his neck dean is free to be his own person in a way he has literally never been in his whole life. on the other hand, there's the horror of it. sam says yes, and that breaks dean. while dean was running around having a grand old time exercising newfound freedom, he was shirking his duty. his personal world was ending, and he didn't even know it. in the end, dean will never escape sam or have an identity outside of him, and with sam gone - not just separate but gone - he is fully and irrevocably broken.

endverse dean and endverse cas are so divorced, but in order to be that divorced you have to have been married first. to circle back to free to be you and me, do you see how happy dean is in that episode? do you see how sweet dean and cas are on each other? that's the starting point for endverse. that's the point of timeline divergence. whether their relationship experienced a gradual souring or a sharp decline when sam dies is unclear, but we know that it wasn't always this way. this is something that changed.

endverse cas probably isn't as pathetic as you think he is. this is a three-pronged point. 3a. when i say pathetic i don't mean miserable i mean pathetic. endverse cas is extremely miserable every day all the time bc of having to live through an apocalypse and being cutoff from heaven. however. compared to canon cas at the same time he is way less pathetic. he's a lot more self-possessed, and feels entitled enough to a good life that the fact that he's miserable makes him bitter. he may be unhappy but he does not have the kind of self-hatred/low self-esteem that canon cas has because that stuff develops later for particular reasons. 3b. dean is not like. the only thing in his life/the only reason he's miserable and he's probably not even the most important. he's literally living through the apocalypse for chrissakes. and also he's cut off from heaven, which he in the text cites as a major source of his misery. i tend to choose to interpret that as like. missing the hivemind of heaven (or even missing his angelic siblings who he cares deeply about) in order to get it to gel more with my interpretations of canon cas. but even just taking at face value that cas feels powerless and debased because of his fall that's still crunchy and like. not about dean really. like yeah the guy he fell for is no longer capable of loving him but also there's bigger problems here. 3c. drug use. obviously endverse cas uses various substances but if we look at the actual text there are three references to drug use across two exchanges. number one is "are you stoned?" "generally, yeah" ok like we are all grownups here and can admit smoking weed is fine right? right? obviously being stoned all the time is a sign that things aren't going super great in your life but that's generally a symptom of something worse. and then "[takes pill bottle] amphetamines?" "it's the perfect antidote to that absinthe" there are two references to drug use here. one is the fact that cas is taking adhd medication. that's addictive and he could be addicted to it, but also it's not exactly unusual for soldiers to take amphetamines before a battle, nor is it unusual for people who have to drive all night to take them to help them stay awake. also, the way cas talks about it, the vibe seems to be that this is one of many substances that cas occasionally partakes in. the other reference here is to the absinthe and that actually is a cut and dried reference to drug abuse. drinking heavily before driving all night and then going into battle is super irresponsible and likely indicative of a problem. and then the other body of evidence we have is that dean seems to consider cas to be absolutely competent and reliable, so if cas is addicted to something, it's definitely what you'd call a functional addiction, something that doesn't interfere with his life too much. so, broad strokes: if endverse cas is gonna be an addict he is actually probably most likely a functional alcoholic. which is also pretty fun because then you can really play in the space of He Learned It From Dean. 3d. endverse cas is textually kind of a sleazebag.

endverse dean is a shithead but not the way most people think. the notable thing about endverse dean is that he doesn't care enough about other people - endverse cas included but not unique. he's a bastard but his bastardry is lack of care, not intentional cruelty. this is, imo, if i may circle back to the first point, a result of sam's death - after that, dean became singleminded, only really interested in killing lucifer. willing to send cas and others he cares about into a meat grinder to chase his white-suited whale. but he's not mean. just cold. there is the festering corpse of a love relation between dean and cas, but it's not a situation where dean is mean to cas in the way like, season fifteen dean is mean to cas. he's not controlling, not using cas as a punching bag or chewtoy. maybe there's some mutual sniping but mostly dean just doesn't care. as a point of interest, one way in which endverse dean is cruel is he appears to be a habitual cheater. just watch cas' reaction when risa accuses dean of cheating on her. that's the face of a man who has been in her position and knows she is a fool to expect better. but again that's kind of more about not caring about the impact of his actions.

#spn

[katsidhe]

wrt. to season 15, and late season 11 once Chuck has returned, I think it is literally impossible that Lucifer doesn’t deeply, deeply resent Sam for having been the one to catalyze his father’s homecoming. Because like, let’s go over what happened there: Lucifer plays the big bad rebel, gets locked up and relegated to solitary isolation for millennia. Sam comes along and not only ruins Lucifer’s plans and sticks him back in the Cage, but does so in a way that messes up God’s original meta plans in a way that Lucifer knows he never could. I think that a lot of Lucifer’s fury in s5 and in s11 is from the way he’s never been able to foil Chuck-as-chessmaster: his rebellions were all for nothing, they were scripted, and everyone else buys in. 

But not Sam. Even without all the messy baggage of Sam, and not Lucifer, being the one to finally convince Chuck to come home and see if the stove’s turned off in s11, there’s still the fact of that initial victory. Sam tears up the script in s5, and then he does it again in s11--he’s the one who summons Amara, he’s the one who Chuck comes for in 11.20. It’s worth noting that while Chuck is rescuing Sam, Lucifer is literally being tortured by Amara. I promise that this has not escaped his notice. 

Chuck’s story requires that Sam/Abel/Lucifer/Amara (and arguably Mary) be rebels. The role of the rebel can be heroic, tragic, sympathetic, regrettable, or even out-and-out villainous, but it is a requisite: Chuck needs people who are dissatisfied with the rules as written. This proscribed rebellion is both what prompts Lucifer’s nihilism and what eventually lets Sam emerge victorious from the smoking rubble of SPN.

Meta-narratively, there is something fascinating in how Chuck seems far more invested in justifying/exploring the reasons for Dean/Cain/Michael/his own actions—his own role in the story, that of status quo—than in exploring the bitterness and grievance that Sam/Abel/Lucifer/Amara feel. It’s that sense of narrative disenfranchisement that makes Lucifer and Amara lose themselves, but it also gives Sam the chance to sneak under the radar.

#15.19 #sam and chuck #lucifer and chuck #i've definitely said things similar to this before but I'm having feelings about it today #sam and lucifer

[timaeusterrored]

(I’m tired)

((Brought to you by, Andrew is tired and needs comfort))

V thought he’d be alone tonight, which was probably a good thing. He was exhausted, and he was tired of people for the night and didn’t want to accidentally snap at Kerry. God he’d never forgive himself.

He sat out by the pool, staring at the calm water as he smoked. It had been an emotional day of nearly losing three mercs, Venus being one, most of his clients angry about something, getting harassed on the streets by paparazzi trying to get a shot of his face, and just over all waking up on the wrong side of the bed. He wanted sleep. And yet when he had attempted to lay down, he realized his body refused to sleep without Kerry.

“You must be really out of it tonight, babe.” Vax damn near fell out the chair, not realizing Kerry was standing over him- literally when he looked up, Kerry was just staring down at him.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know you had a fuckin day.”

Kerry was correct, and also correct in Vax being out of it because he got from the sliding door and down the stairs and Vax didn’t hear a damn thing. And he still had his boots on. Vax normally heard his husband walking around, but tonight he probably could have been robbed blind.

Kerry patted V’s legs to get him to move them, sitting on the pool chair. The Fixer hugged his legs to his chest like a toddler, Kerry taking the cigarette before the ash could fall and burn him. Kerry put it out in the ashtray on the ground and looked at V, a knowing look on his face that said Vax wouldn’t have to say much.

“Ven is with Dean and Blue tonight, said you were a ticking time bomb and figured you’d need space. J is with them as well, so don’t worry.” Kerry explained, talking low and soft, as if V was some wounded animal. But it was better than the amount of yelling he had dealt with today.

“Hope I didn’t scare them… I yelled pretty bad today.” Vax had accidentally yelled at Venus and Onyx and Mike, and snapped at Claire and some clients. He felt awful of course, and would apologize tomorrow. But goddamn he was fucking tired.

“You’re pretty scary when you yell, but they aren’t angry if that’s what you’re asking.” Kerry explained, which was valid. Vax tried to not yell often, but when he did, it was fucking scary. He had caused the Afterlife to go silent.

Vax rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated groan. He couldn’t do this, he was shitty fixed and a shitty husband. He should have died on that space station because if he couldn’t be a merc, then what could he be?

This was Jackie’s dream. The nice house, the cars, the fame, this was all for Jackie. And now, Vax wasn’t sure. He didn’t exactly mind being Jackie’s shadow, it was what he was good at. Going in for the silent kill and disappearing… now he was the most sought after face in the world, everyone knew the legend of V, and everyone knew V Eurodyne. And god it made his chest tight.

“Hey… do you need a minute? I can go shower and get ready for bed if you need it.” Kerry hadn’t touched him besides patting his leg, and had maintained a level voice and respectful distance.

“…Think I’m gonna make me some tea from Misty… and see how I feel after.” Vax and Kerry were still working on the whole communication and feelings thing, it was rough because both were so used to just hiding it or hiding away.

“Sounds good, where am I gonna meet you after?” The fact that Kerry still wanted to be around him after the day he had meant the world to Vax. The fact that Kerry hadn’t gotten upset to not have kisses or any thing like that… he was letting Vax go at his own paceS

“If I’m not in bed, probably the couch.” Kerry nodded, standing up and stretching. “A bowl sounds really nice too…”

“Fuuuuck yes it does, you are speaking my language, doll.” The rocker leaned down, but stopped just before he kissed Vax, silently asking permission. Vax gave him a peck on the lips and Kerry took it with a smile before heading inside.

The couch ended up winning, Vax had changed out that godawful leather nightmare for a comfy couch that still somewhat matched the aesthetic of their penthouse. But if he was gonna have a couch, he should be able to take comfortable naps on it.

This time, he heard Kerry coming. His bare feet padding against the floor and a lighter appearing in front of his face. He always knew what Vax needed.

The two smoked and Vax drank his tea, trying to calm the fixer without overwhelming him more. Sometimes, he just needed Kerry there, just in his eyesight. He hated that Johnny went and stayed with Venus but was also glad they were getting along… but damn he needed Kerry and Johnny tonight…

Kerry took the final hit, Vax watching him blow the smoke out and went a little gayer if possible. Damn he loved this man… that was his man at the end of the couch.

“Bed? Or stay down here longer?” Kerry asked, cleaning up so Vax didn’t have too. He knew that Kerry knew Vax could very well wake up and be stress cleaning so Kerry would rather just clean now and try to help his husband rest for as long as possible.

“Bed… ‘M fuckin’ tired.” Vax mumbled finally, feeling Kerry help him stand up and help him up to bed.

#I hope this was also comforting for anyone else having a bad day #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk kerry #kerry #cyberpunk v #male v #male v cyberpunk #vax eurodyne #kerry x v #kerry eurodyne x v #kerry x male v #kerry eurodyne x male v #cyberpunk Kerry x v #v x kerry #male v x kerry #cyberpunk v x Kerry Eurodyne #male v x Kerry Eurodyne #EuroV #otp: supernova

[sanstropfremir]

Why are the theatre/film schools like that? 💀💀💀

In mine most profs were complete idiots. One of them, a well know actor and the president of the Academy at that time, did absolutely nothing in class. He bailed most of the time due to “shootings” and the few days he came we practically did nothing, just some chats with him about his job. To grade us he asked us to write in a paper what we thought we deserved. I kid you not.

Another one, who was a tv producer, was most likely very mentally ill and undiagnosed cause he would have the most random shitty ideas that we had to comply with and a lot of mood-swings. The day of the final exam he came 40 mins late because he was smoking week in front of the back door and then proceeded to give us the weirdest exam ever that kept us a minimum of 3 hours there. We had to make a plan of how to shoot an event and he kept adding snipers, famous people and animals to the mix.

There was one that I deeply hated cause we had 3 classes with him that were practically the same. He was more on the sociology side but did not know at all how to be a professor. His classes consisted of spiting facts and giving 10+ random bibliography per day. I learned nothing and I still have murderous waves every time someone mentions his name.

There was a couple who were married and had the sane vibe of old and way to classical. They were harmless until the end, when we learned that they blocked A LOT OF THINGS to make the space and curriculum better. Like, requesting funding to take a paid intern for their research lab of 3d shit, choosing the one (a friend of mine), signing the contract and then NEVER DO ANYTHING NOR SPEAK WITH THE CHOSEN PERSON. She had to go crying to the dean for a response and even then they were not held accountable. The school employed her as a paid intern in another department to make up for it but the rest never got resolved.

Other profs were alright, just very weird characters. The screenwriter prof was a very funny man but deeply depressed and had us all worried at first hour on Mondays (his Very Bad Day).

And on top of that was The Building™️. You see, ours was made by a very famous architect and it won several awards. Every couple of weeks we had someone taking photos of it. However, it’s the most impractical building ever because it was built as at a museum and not a school. The chairs are absolutely demential. So uncomfortable and very easily breakable BUT they cannot be replaced until 20-30 years from now because they signed a contract with the architect that said so. There is one (or two if your lucky) power plug per class but millions on the corridors. The bathrooms stalls are so narrow that if you want to enter with a bag/backpack you cannot close the door. In fact, some of those doors barely close without anyone inside. The editing rooms have gigantic windows where you cannot block the light so you can’t see shit on the computers. Well, windows are a thing in general. Classrooms have them but only one of them can be open partially with a button and let me tell you it does not help to ventilate properly 🙊. And the doors, boi, most of them had the handle broken so someone was always at risk of getting trapped there. You taught that they would fix this but it’s been more than 6 years since I finished and it’s still the same. There’s a twitter account that posts the shenanigans that are going on and most shit is the same.

So yeah, wild shit is always happening I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️

✨🎥 anon

literally all film/theatre schools are same shit different channel slkdfjsldkjflskdjflskdjflsdjflsdkjf oh i feel you for all of this. most of our profs did actually know what they were talking about thank god, but a lot of them were old bastions and hadn't worked professionally in AGES so they were sooooo out of date to how the scene actually operated in the modern era. we had a couple of real characters and one of which was the director for my thesis show, who was five foot zero inches and thin as a twig, wore leather pants frequently and called everyone 'lovey'. and like i previously said, was somewhere between 65 and 85 and nobody could tell bc she occasionally went to switzerland to have some crazy type of botox done to her face. we did have potentially maybe two sexual abusers?? i never got confirmation on any of it bc it was kept sooo tightly under wraps but in one case i'm not sure if there was any evidence brought forward (he was just a regular abuser though, that guy fucking SUCKED), and the other guy i only found out about from a former student bc the whole thing got swept under the rug bc his wife ALSO worked in the department. also the whole staff was like. so racist. the year after i left one of the shows that went up to committee for season suggestion was a show written in the 70s that had a bunch of racial slurs in it (and no people of colour in the script) and almost the entire student body put a petition up to remove it from selection but the director wouldn't stand down so they did it anyways 💀💀💀 i was fucking glad i was out of that hellhole by that time.

and oh my god the building architecture.....never before have i been so glad that there's no famous architects from anywhere near my hometown bc fuckin YIKES. we had a designated separate building from the rest of campus that was built in the 80s specifically for the theatre department, so we rarely left bc all the rehearsal rooms + class rooms were all in there with the theatres. and almost no non-theatre students came in bc there was only one 'theatre' class that a non-registered theatre major could take, and that was a public speaking class, so every time that class happened once a week we'd all give eyeballs to the lost looking business and sciences majors coming in. also there were signs on like every door that said 'no non theatre personnel beyond this point' (bc the building also had the box office and held audiences for when the shows were running) so anyone who was lost always looked extra lost. plus the whole thing was a huge maze bc there were upper level catwalks and corridors that connected the grid + fly systems between the two theatres, so the techies sometimes would go up to the upper levels and not come down for the entire day.

oh and there was a tradition where if you had sex in the building you would mark the spot with a black 'x'. in my first year we did a show with a big coffin as one of the setpieces and on one of the last nights of the run two of the actors fucked in it

#i literally do not know why they did bc it was not a nice plush coffin. it was literally a plain wood box #and there were a TON of wood shavings inside it so i know someone got splinters in their ass #someone also had sex in the upper level of the costume loft and i have no idea y bc 1) dusty 2) mothballs 3) the floor was a fucking GRATE #OH and two actors fucked on the upper level of the fly tower WHILE a bunch of ppl were still in the theatre. that was funny #i dont actually think this happens anymore it fell a bit out of vogue in my fourth year bc as a year we were so fucking boring #and when i say boring i mean we all were very dedicated to working and were not big partiers #but the year under us was a MESS. but im not sure if they ever got told about the tradition or not #its so nice to know that performing arts schools are always the same no matter what country theyre in lskdjflks #im literally in shock at the one about the three hour exam like what the fuck...?????????? huh?? what???????? #thank fucking god we only had tests in our theatre history classes holy shit #moral of the story: DO NOT GO TO THEATRE SCHOOL #text #answers #non kpop questions #✨🎥 anon

[gaytedlasso]

And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone

We're setting fire to our insides for fun

Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home

It was a flood that wrecked this

Youth by Daughter

~

Dean rolls his own cigarettes because they're cheaper and he likes menial tasks to do in the middle of the night. trying to pretend for just a few minutes that everything is okay, because at least he can do a good job on these. at least it's something that he'll take pride in.

inspired by this post

redbubble / inprnt

#this is the young dean that lives in my head rent free #literally Dean does smoke this is a fact #I have no other deep insane thoughts on these pieces I literally just poured my heart out into that caption #props to Mae seraphcastiel for suggesting the M A R Y knuckle tattoo here #I've been wanting to do it for ages and never had a good opportunity #halftone shading is my new favorite thing #sketch.art #spn redbubble #spn art #spn fanart #young dean #young dean winchester #tattooed dean winchester #piercingsnatural #tattoonatural #wincesties dni #userkels #spxcekya #becauseofthebowties #creativecaviar #angelscas #tusergen #rambleoncas #castiellesbian #greatcometcas #cowboycoven #cw smoking

[writefightandflightclub]

Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.  

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot).  However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.  

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head. 

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.” 

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you.  You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair. 

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him. 

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say. 

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic

[radiorenjun]

my first and last || huang renjun

¤ pairing : huang renjun x reader

¤ genre : fluff, slight crack, major angst, romance, drama, slight fantasy! au, slight coming of age!au, first love!au, slight 1880s!au, adventure!au, painter!renjun x street singer!y/n. runaway!au

¤ synopsis :  Huang Renjun was born on the coldest day on earth, which causes his heart to be frozen solid, requiring a replacement. The makeshift Doctor, Madam Wendy, who provides midwifery and medical services to the poor and the desperate of Edinburgh, grafts a miniature cuckoo clock in order to save it.

However his newfound cuckoo clock heart was so fragile that it could end him in a terrible fate of death if he does not follow the three rules said doctor had provided for him. One of which was he must never fall in love. Do come and enter this adventure through Renjun’s eyes as he falls for a street singer who hates wearing glasses despite of her poor eyesight.

¤ warnings: character death, HEAVY angst, mentions of blood, loss of family member, reader has terrible eyesight and is painfully oblivious, Madam Wendy mentions about her abortion, maybe some swearing (do people even swear in the olden days?), historical inaccuracies is sexy, heartbreak, renjun is mentally exhausted, mentions of taking ones life (once), adults smoking, reader wears glasses at the end. shakespeare shaming because i have a grudge against that man. hISTORICAL INNACURACIES. Renjun gets slapped by Wendy once, renjun gets hypothermia. i feel like this was quite rushed idk

¤ word count : 29.2k

¤ heavily inspired by  La Mécanique du cœur (the movie, not the novel because I’m not that cruel)

¤ playlist: my everything - nct u, instagram - dean, wayo - bang yedam, francis forever - mitski mitski, anxiete - pomme, faded in my last song - nct u, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, moi cest - camelia jordana, my first and last - nct dream, beautiful time - nct dream, 

¤ a/n: special thanks to @lebrookestore​​ for making this sexy header

‘Love. What does that feel like?' Renjun would always wonder. 

As his paint brush strokes the canvas, eliciting a bright yellow mark on the object, Renjun continued to stare into his painting with a void of emotion. Whenever the occasional question 'what does it feel like to love or to be loved?' pops up in his mind, he would often furrow his brows and purse his lips in a small pout in confusion at the thought. 

Renjun didn't know what it felt like to love, for his caretaker, Madame Wendy, had always told him since he was a young boy that 'love is the last thing you need in this world, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal.' Renjun didn’t care much for the aspects of love. How can he fall in love when he doesn’t even know what love is? What does it feel like to feel love? How can you feel love?

If you take one small glance at Huang Renjun, you would instantly have the assumption that he was a rather cold-hearted, emotionless young boy. Eyes so icy cold and void of emotion, it could send shivers down your spine. Though, fortunately for everyone else, it was quite rare of the young boy to walk out of his home. Some might say that he would step out of his home ‘once in a blue moon’ or whenever the sun shone brightly over the old town, which was quite rare considering it had been raining frequently these past few months in Edinburgh, France.

However, what they didn’t know was that the reason behind his infrequent appearance was quite tragic. He was an unfortunate young boy, really. Only a few people have known this, but long long ago, a sudden harsh snowfall hit his town on the day he was born. It was recorded as the coldest day on earth, for the snow had frozen everything in its path including the poor boy’s heart. Quite literally, not figuratively. 

Renjun’s biological mother had journeyed through the cold town to the house up the steeple. Rumors say, the quote unquote ‘witch’ of the town, who specialized in the medical department with her own unique ways that left doctors skeptical and poor. From what his caretaker had told him, she was holding her belly throughout the long journey as she tried her best to endure the cold without slipping on the frozen concrete. Muttering how if she could, she would’ve kept her child in her tummy safe and sound from the cruel world. 

How she slipped and fell unconscious in front of his current caretaker’s house with her tears frozen on top of her cold cheeks, how she was brought in and taken in just in time to warm up to gain consciousness and go through the birth process. He remembered being told how the moment he was born, he had to undergo intense surgery immediately for he almost didn’t survive. He remembered being told that his heart had turned cold. 

“Cold, not Gold, Renjun. A heart made of ice. As in cubes not cream,” as his caretaker would say. 

Since donors weren't available at the time as it was already way past midnight, he needed surgery before his heart stopped beating under the hard exterior of the ice growing around his heart. Luckily for him, Madame Wendy had improvised one with her excellent expertise. She built a small clock the size of her palm that nearly covered his whole chest at the time. Considering she was known for being a witch in town, (even though she tried to explain a countless amount of times that she was a mere mechanic with a medical degree) she miraculously provided him with a fragile heart made from scratch. 

However, the night of his birth was also the night his mother had decided to leave him with Madame Wendy, convinced that she would make a better mother for Renjun that she could ever have. It was quite a tragic tale. However, Renjun didn’t think much of it. Nor did he feel any sort of upsetting emotions like longing, curiosity and sadness. Why would he? He doesn’t even remember what his biological mother had looked like. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore other than the faux happiness his mother had taught him how to feel to ease the numbing feeling in his hollow, ticking heart held nothing but dust. 

A heart that was purely made out of strong wood, cogs and screws. One that makes soft, calming tick tocks that goes along with the soft pitter patters of rain drops with every beat, one that makes cuckoo’s every time it’s arrow struck 12. One that needs winding every single day with a golden key his caretaker had provided him ever since he was born. One with ironically three rules that he should always follow on a day to day basis. 

-

“Recite those rules once again, Renjun,” she ordered as she buttons up her adoptive child’s white shirt up to his neck. “Do I have to? I’ve been reciting this for years now,” Renjun would whine, looking down at his mother’s loving hands as she flicked her forehead softly with a face void of emotion. “It’s for your own good, Renjun. I can’t have you forgetting something this important, you know very well that your life depends on these three rules.” She tugged on the collar of her child’s shirt down. 

“Before I let you run off to town with me, I prefer that your heart would be much stronger,” she swiped her fingers through Renjun’s hair, swefting it to the side to make it neat. “Every beat of your heart is a minor miracle. You’re a fragile piece of work, far more fragile than glass,” the older woman explained, laying her hands on the boy’s shoulder with a grim expression. “I know,” Renjun replied with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders to release tension in his body. 

He sighed again, the young boy looked up at the ceiling to avoid his mother’s cold stare. “Firstly, never touch the hands of my heart,” he began, letting out an annoyed sigh as he felt his mother tucking his small key into the pocket sewed on his chest. “Yes, what else?” Madame Wendy asked, kneeling down to look at the child in the eye. “Keep your temper under control,” they recited in unison with the same emotionless tone. 

“And the last one?” 

“Whatever I do, I must never ever fall in love.” 

“Indeed, that’s why I’m so scared of letting you into town. You haven’t experienced love yet so far in your life, it is very important that you stay that way,” she said, standing up on her feet as her hand returned to Renjun’s shoulder. “I know,” he mumbled once again, looking up at his caretaker’s eyes as if to hide the fact that he wasn’t listening a total hundred percent to what she was saying. “It could be the very death of you, Renjun. Your fragile heart won’t be able to stand the emotional, mental and physical shock provoked with the feeling of love,” she explained once again, a worried expression glossing over her face.

“I know, I know. You tell me that almost everyday,” he muttered, playing with the small buttons on the clock that is his own heart. “My heart is not a toy, therefore it is not to be played with.” he almost rolled his eyes at the older woman, feeling her smack his hand away from his heart softly. “It is something that I want you to take seriously, Renjun,” she hissed, eyeing the small mechanic artwork on the boy’s chest. “How can I even fall in love when I don’t know anything about love?” 

-

To Renjun, today was like any other day of the year. The sun shining brightly against his skin, the cloudy grey sky accenting the sky’s beauty. His hair gelled to the side to reveal some of his forehead and leaving a few strands of his hair to tickle his skin perfectly, his calloused hand gripping his 60 x 90 cm canvas and his large box of acrylic paints to his side, his favorite paintbrush hanging against the skin in between his ear and his fluffy short hair. 

Spinning one of his smaller paint brushes in his free hand, right between his fingers as he walked down the sidewalk of his home town, trying to find a spot to sit and paint. It was his birthday recently, so his mother had delightfully just bought a fresh new set of acrylic paints, considering he finished them on his last painting which was the majestic dove fountain in the middle of the town less than a month ago. 

Renjun was only ten years old when his caretaker took him out to wander around town, which was on his birthday. It was then when Renjun was hitting the age of thirteen when his caretaker’s worry lessened when she saw that her child was nowhere to the point of Cupid’s next target. Therefore those annual town visits turned into monthly visits (under his caretaker’s supervision, of course) and when Renjun had turned thirteen years old, he had shown an interest in painting and drawing in his free time while Madame Wendy was working with a patient.

However, love can strike at any moment. And by the time Renjun became sixteen years old, he was finally allowed to venture into the town himself to paint landscapes and buy more art supplies at least once a week with a 5-6 PM curfew. Nothing more, nothing less. Cupid was cunning, therefore she believed that this was the best she could do. Considering he was a teenager, she couldn’t protect him as easily as she could back when he was still an infant. And that was what she had feared the most in her life. 

Renjun sighed heavily, looking around with emotionless eyes, a cold frown forming upon his lips as he leaned his chin on his palm, his elbow supporting on his thigh and his other free hand holding the canvas on top of his legs. He wondered if there was more to life than work and oil paints, eyes wandering on the busy streets filled with the latest carriages and the latest transportation vehicles. He felt as if his life had gone by boring and aimless without knowing how to express his emotions properly. Is this what life has come to in his 16 years of living? 

16 years of being almost completely isolated from this town without knowing what his caretaker was so worried about. Madam Wendy had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Renjun had witnessed love from time to time in the streets, watching a couple of different genders walking down the streets with loving expressions on their faces. Renjun could not decipher why you would be feeling such emotions. He had been venturing around town freely with his strict curfews for almost four months now. And all he’s done so far is wander around looking for something interesting to be his next muse or visit the local library to read books. 

One of the books Renjun was absolutely fascinated on reading was this book the librarian had recommended to him on his first visit, ‘The Great Expectations’ by Charles Dickens. It was a small story of a young boy named Pip who went through amazing life changing experiences and going through hardships with his rather abusive sister, his blacksmith mentor and falling in love as well with a girl named Estella. (He would always snicker whenever she comes up in a scene as her adoptive parent, Ms Havisham, ironically reminded him too much of Madam Wendy) 

He often wondered if Madam Wendy’s strong dislike towards the aspects of love was merely because of his fragile condition or was it because of something deeper? However, looking back at when he found his caretaker’s family albums which were mainly pictures of her winning awards and bragging about her medical degree, he highly doubts it. (It was still fun to imagine theories while it lasted, though!)

“Ms Havisham stares at Pip coldly, and murmurs to the girl at her side: ‘Break his heart, Estella. Break his heart!’” Renjun read, his eyes moving as he read the brief summary at the back of his book. Looking down at the cuckoo clock heart hidden under his cardigan, he clicked his tongue before chuckling bitterly to himself. “‘Break his heart’, huh? What utter bonkers, you can’t break someone’s heart. That isn’t physically possible,” he shook his head in amusement, placing his book on top of the box of acrylic paints beside him.

Just as he was about to leave and head back home, a peculiar merry tune reached his ears, causing Renjun to pause in his step, looking around to find the source with furrowed brows. If this was like those small street cat sketches he would draw in his free time, it would seem like his ears perked up in slight interest. The merry tune turned on a bright spark inside of the young boy’s chest, curiosity growing in his veins at the tune he has never heard before. It was as if the angels above had descended to the earth while playing a symphony of flutes and harmonicas, making soft high pitched catchy tunes in the air. 

Renjun felt entranced by the music, it was almost as if it was pulling him- beckoning him to come towards it, towards its source. It was as if his feet had a mind of his own as he fought with his own rational thoughts to either go back home or find the source of the beautiful merry tune. He couldn't help but walk to where it's coming from, curious of who was making such a wonderful tune. Sooner than later, he found himself walking down a small alley that led him into a steep staircase that led him to another part of his town. And with every step he took, the music grew louder and louder. Soon, finding light at the end to see the small part of town he rarely visits.

He put his palm on the dirty brick wall, ignoring the uncomfortable texture against his skin, head poking out as he tried to decipher where the majestic music was coming from. Squinting his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight for the staircase was dim enough to be mistaken for a tunnel with the broken rooftops covering the ceiling, he took a step forward. His eyes widening slightly in awe as he watched a young man his age push away a stack of crates to reveal the true source of music. 

A young girl, who Renjun figures is around his age, was cranking up a barrel organ right in front of the fountain. A hand going in circular motions on the crank, twisting the lever as she pulls it clockwise. The hand on her hip was soon placed on her chest when the music went on, clearing her throat softly as she began to sing along and harmonize with the melody. 

Renjun stood still in his place, baffled at the daunting beauty presented before him. The girl standing a few meters away from him was singing along merrily to the tune of the phonograph record, cranking up the lever as the other townsfolk that was walking by began to gather around her, enjoying the harmony that goes along with her soothing voice and symphony of flutes and harmonicas being produced by the portable barrel organ. 

As he sat down on the last step of the staircase to listen from afar, he couldn't help but pay close attention to the lyrics coming out of her lips. His paintbrush spinning in between his fingers as his mind focused on the words of the intro, smiling idly as he began to understand the words she was trying to convey. 

My vision's not quite right

But glasses make me look a sight

Enough to give the world a fright, like a sprite wearing specs

Renjun couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion. 'A sprite wearing specs? What the hell was that supposed to mean?' he pondered to himself as he found himself sitting at the last step of the staircase, leaning his white canvas against the dusty brick walls before putting his palm against his cheek, his elbow supported right above his knees as he gazed in awe at the little singer. 

His pupils never moved away from the young girl who began to twirl around with her hands on her hips. And that girl was you. He watched as you danced and sang as if you were in your own little world, almost clumsily bumping into an old man carrying two heavy wooden crates in his arms. He chuckled at the sight, a soft smile stretching across his face as he watched the girl apologize for almost bumping into him, making Renjun realise that she might have some sort of blurred vision with how she was squinting at the older man. 

‘Or she might just be an idiot,’ Renjun thought with a deadpan expression, laying his chin on his hand as he let out a soft sigh. Renjun had been living in this town all his life, despite the fact that he rarely goes out of his own home. He’s sure that no one in this town would blast such a merry tune so shamelessly in public while dancing and singing around like a fool expressing themselves. And it was quite rare for someone to walk around with a barrel organ out of nowhere.

The music stopped midway when you let out a small yelp and clumsily tripped over your own feet as you turned to your barrel organ when the lever stopped turning, eliciting a soft giggle from Renjun. You let out a soft grunt, huffing as you ignored the slightly concerned looks of your audience. You stood up quickly, hands coming up to brush off the dust and debris off your skirt, tugging on your suspenders as you attempted to ignore the embarrassed red tint on your own cheeks as you tried to play it off as cool. 

Renjun couldn't help but giggle at the sight, his cold emotionless expression morphing into one filled with the slightest bit of amusement. Though, it quite took Renjun aback when he saw you turn your head from your barrel organ to his figure sitting a few meters away from where you were standing, turning your head rapidly to find the source, raising a brow when your eyes met Renjun's. He stopped laughing when your eyes met briefly, eyes widening in shock as he began to fidget in his place as you began to waddle over to him, dragging your barrel organ with you. 

Wait, were you going over to talk to him? How did you even acknowledge his existence? Did you hear him snicker at your silly antics? Even if you did, how could you even hear him with how busy your surroundings were?

You stood before him with hands on your hips, lips pursed at him. "What were you laughing at?" you asked, a slight pout adorning on your lips as you looked down at the boy who raised his brow. Renjun felt his words pile up in his throat, trying to think of something to say without offending or upsetting the girl before him, as his Seulgi and Irene (his caretaker’s weekly patients) had always told him that ‘once you anger a feisty lady, there’s no turning back!’. 

Now that you were standing only a few inches away from him, he couldn’t help but take a small moment to observe your appearance more clearly. Renjun's eyes couldn't help but wander towards your figure, examining your facial features in full detail. The way the sunlight reflected upon your pupils, how your figure stood out that he could barely decipher that other people were present around them. The way your dress framed your body, lips pursed with a slight pout, eyelids fluttering softly as you blinked at him as you were waiting for a response. Renjun wondered how someone could look this entrancing.

"Hello? Are you listening to me?!"

Renjun blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. His mouth opening as his pupils went back up to catch the intense glare that the girl in front of him was sending. He closed his mouth when he realized he didn't know what to say in response, his mind turning blank when he saw you quirked one of your eyebrows up suspiciously. "I don't- How can you even hear me laugh from such a distance?" Renjun's voice faltered nervously, trying to avoid your question, furrowing his brows.

Your expression lightened slightly at the nervous boy, a bright smile of your own stretching across her face. "Out of all of my five senses, my hearing has always been the best considering I don't rely much on my eyes," you shrugged, sitting beside him on the last step of the stairs. Stretching your legs out as you used your palms to smoothen your dress before crossing your arms on your thighs and turning your head to look at the boy. "I saw you staring at me from a distance, was I that good?" you smirked, raising a brow. 

“You saw me? I thought you said you can’t rely on your eyes that much?” he asked in a weak attempt to dodge your question once again. “I lied, some lady told me that you were staring at me even after this old thing gave up on me,” you huffed, kicking your foot lightly at the old barrel organ in front of you. “Stop dodging my question. I don’t want to assume that you were stalking me or something,” you turned your head back to the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, wiggling the finger in front of his face teasingly.

Renjun bit the inside of his cheek, a scowl forming on his lips as he rolled his eyes. "Don't get too cocky, I was just perplexed. I was baffled to see someone playing such a merry tune so shamelessly in this lousy, depressing town," he responded with a click of his tongue. "How so?" you asked, tilting your head in confusion at the boy before looking around at your surroundings. “This town doesn’t look that depressing to me. Just needed some lighting up, that’s all,” your positivity elicited another scoff from the boy.

Renjun turned to you, brows furrowed slightly, confused as to how you couldn’t see how this town was the literal epitome of the Great Depression itself. "You're not from here, are you? Come to think of it, I've never seen you around here before." Renjun asked with a curious expression, watching as a cheeky grin formed across your face. "You got me there." You let out a soft chuckle, shrugging shamelessly before gazing up at the cloudy grey sky. 

"My parents and I just moved in today. They told me to run off and go dilly dally-ing around town so as to not bother them as they set up the whole place,” you explained, nodding towards your barrel organ. “I think I made a great first impression as the new lady in town, don’t you think?” you asked, giving him a sweet smile, ignoring how Renjun gave you an affirming shake of his head to say ‘no’ bluntly. “Well I definitely knocked your socks off, didn’t I? That’s enough for me!” you exclaimed brightly, clasping your hands together. 

“You don’t even know me. I don’t even know you. And how would you know if I was moved by your oh-so-stupendous actions?” Renjun rolled his eyes sarcastically, gripping his canvas tightly as he spoke, looking down at his shoes. He had never spoken to someone his age before without being forced by his caretaker or having to meet them for the first time at Madam Wendy’s home. It was quite new for him to be talking to a lady as well, for most of them were too shy to even talk to the young lad for his cold glare struck shivers down their spine.

“The sound of your laugh was enough to convince me that my actions were indeed stupendous, good sir!” you shot back confidently, a proud smile on your face as you placed your hands on your knees. “Oh bother,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes once again at you, ignoring how the confusion he felt when the cogs and gears of his heart were speeding up in action. “I’m Y/n, by the way! It’s good to know I made a friend on my first day in Edinburgh. Perhaps my mini shameless performance wasn’t entirely fruitless!” you reached your hand out, gesturing for him to shake it.

Renjun looked at your hand for a brief moment, pupils gazing back up at your happy expression, raising a brow at you before sighing heavily. He pulled his hand from his canvas before leaning over to shake your hand gently, “Renjun. Huang Renjun,” he introduced, his tone emotionless. Your hand was warm and soft unlike his own dry ones. Your hand had small specks of dust, which he assumed were from the dusty lever of the barrel organ while his own was covered with dry acrylic paint from his previously wet canvas.

Upon the warm feeling surging through his body at the touch, he felt the tiny mechanical bird inside of his cuckoo clock heart burst out from his clock in response when his skin touched yours, the sharp wooden beak hitting the fabric of his jacket alarmingly. Thus making a small, almost inaudible ‘cuckoo’ that only Renjun (fortunately) heard.

"It’s lovely to be your acquaintance, Huang Renjun. Though, I must warn you, I might not be here for long. My family has been travelling from town to town for years, searching for something.” You told him, pulling your hand back to your side with a small shrug. “Searching? Searching for what exactly?” Renjun asked, watching your expression turned unreadable. You shrugged, leaning your cheek against your palm, your elbow supporting on your leg. “That’s the thing! I’m not quite sure, they won’t tell me.”

“A treasure chest, perhaps?” Renjun suggested, putting a hand on his chin in thought. “Perhaps so. Though, I’m searching for something myself, as well.  I haven't found it yet and I doubt I'm going to find it here." you sighed simply, leaning your head up to gaze at the cloudy sky. Eyes watching as the sun was barely visible due to the thick grey clouds layering over it, signalling that it might rain soon. 

"Well, what are you searching for exactly? Treasure? Money? Wealth is considered as a greedy sin in this town, so I don't think this is some place where you can find those." Renjun hummed, his hand going back to gripping his canvas as he felt the cogs and gears in his heart working faster than usual. Hell, he didn't know why he was so curious about this. This was none of his business, after all. This was your problem, why was he so keen on keeping the conversation going? Why was he so intrigued in a young foreign singer his age he’s just met?

You shook your head, sucking your lips into your mouth before pulling your bottom lip out in a pout. "I’m not a fool, Renjun. I'm not really interested in wealth or fortune. Though, telling you about my life goal appears to be too intimate for us, don’t you think? We just met after all. So all that I can say at the moment that what I’m searching for is for me to know and for you to find out," you send him a teasing smile, causing Renjun to frown and roll his eyes in annoyance, leaning back slightly before sending you a deadpan expression, 

"Does your extravagant search involve spectacles? You might look like you might need them, I know someone that could handle that," he mused, his lips quirking up into a teasing smirk, causing a frown to display on your face. A dead panned expression morphing on to your facial features. "I may have really terrible eyesight, but that isn't a way to talk to a lady, Renjun." you pressed your lips on to a thin line, rolling your eyes at the boy as you let out a soft laugh with a shake of your head. 

"Besides, I look terrible in them. As I said in my song, which I'm sure like all the other folks in this world that doesn't pay attention to the message I was trying to convey in my lyrics, it-"

"It makes quite a sight, enough to give the world a fright like a sprite wearing specs?"

You furrowed your brows as Renjun let out a sheepish smile with a raise of his eyebrow, teasing you as a baffled expression laid upon your features at his words. "You were saying, Y/n?" he mused, waving his hand, gesturing for you to continue with your words. Watching as your baffled expression morphed into an amused one. “Oh, that was quite charming of you, Huang,” you shot back with a flirty grin, causing the ticking of his heart to quicken against his chest, sending him small jolts of pain which he attempted to conceal with small chuckles.

"I’m surprised you were paying attention to my lyrics instead of enjoying my song like a normal human being," you huffed, pushing his face away with your palm against the side of his face, eliciting a small laugh from the boy beside you. "You really shouldn't play games with your sight though. They say a blurry vision will leave you in the dark," Renjun recited, remembering the words his caretaker had always said to him about the patients who come in their quarters using spectacles or glasses. 

You shrugged innocently. "I prefer life all a blur than to look horrendous for a living. You and your pretty face wouldn't understand. Also, I tend to forget my glasses frequently despite the fact that my parents’ constant nagging to bring them around," you , causing Renjun's jaw to drop at your bold statement. He has heard compliments about his dashing looks ever since he was a young boy from Madam Wendy’s relatives but ‘pretty’ wasn’t one of them, he should’ve brushed the compliment off and focus on the context of your words and stop acting as if he hadn’t been complimented before.

But however, something about this felt peculiarly different than the times where his family complimented him on his charming looks.

"Pretty? I haven’t heard that one before," Renjun spoke rather hesitantly, still quite bewildered that a woman his age had shamelessly complimented on his looks to his face. Yet again, said woman has a terrible eyesight so he couldn't be too sure that it was a compliment. You laughed, bumping your shoulder against his softly. "That’s the only thing you got out of my words? Are you an insecure lad, Huang?" you chuckled, giving him a slightly sheepish smile. “Are you sure you don’t need spectacles?” Renjun snapped back. 

"I’m just pushing your buttons! I assure you that even without my glasses. I can confirm that you are quite an attractive young man, and that’s saying something considering I’ve been travelling here and there for most of my life. I'm not as blind as a bat, you know." you giggled, clicking your tongue before adding on. "Besides, it won't make much of a difference, really. Even with or without glasses, I still see a very pretty boy," you joked, laughing lightly.

“Out of all the compliments you could’ve chosen, you decided upon the word ‘pretty’? Sounds quite feminine, don’t you think?” he asked, leaning his head to the side, looking at you with half lidded eyes. He realised that he didn’t mind being called pretty, he didn’t mind being complimented by you. Despite the fact that you two had just met. But he couldn’t help but wonder why you had decided to choose ‘pretty’ instead of the other synonyms of ‘attractive’. 

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing? I think pretty can be used for anything. It’s just a word after all, why do things have to be differentiated by the littlest of things? It’s just a synonym of ‘beautiful’,” you shrugged, watching as small raindrops started to pour down from the cloudy grey sky, reaching your hand out to feel the water drops hitting and wetting your skin slowly. Renjun raised his brow at you, perplexed at how you could be so nonchalant about your terrible eyesight considering his caretaker would endlessly bicker until he was forced to use spectacles until his eyes magically got better.

"What's that odd pitter patter?" you mumbled, snapping Renjun out of his thoughts once again. His eyes widened when he realised that the sound of his clock heart ticking had increased, blending well with the sound of the rain as water began to hit the surface of the concrete. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone other than close relatives about his fragile condition, so his anxiety spiked when you turned to look at him, expecting an answer. "It's the rain." Renjun replied after a moment, gulping down his nerves before turning to you. 

"Do you like the rain?" Renjun asked, gulping afterwards when he realised how your eyes softly bore into his with an unreadable expression, the eye contact making Renjun’s clock heart steam up a bit as the gears worked even faster than before. Sighing as you felt the cold breeze that comes with the rain send goosebumps across your skin, you rubbed your arms before looking back to the pouring rain. You shook your head, "getting wet? Not really."

"But the sound it makes? Yes. It always reminded me of how I used to play in the rain back when I was still in elementary school," you nodded with a soft smile. 

The sound of the church bell pierced your ears, making Renjun’s eyes go wide when he realised that the clock had struck 6 pm. Quickly, he got up to his feet, his brushes almost slipping out of his fingers as he stumbled to get onto his feet. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking up at him in confusion, furrowing your brows at the boy as he gulped nervously. “I’m fine, I shouldn’t be out this late,” Renjun shook his head, biting his lip nervously when he realized that the rain wasn’t going to halt anytime soon.

“I don’t think the rain is stopping anytime soon, I suggest you wait here momentarily if you don’t want to catch a cold,” you commented, standing up as well as you stretched your hand out once again to feel the raindrops hitting your palm, smiling softly at the nostalgic feeling that came with it. He clicked his tongue, cursing at himself for letting his curiosity get the best of him as he contemplated on running all the way back home soaking wet. He wouldn’t want to lose his new found freedom.

Muttering a small curse under his breath, he stuck his book under his canvas before hovering it over his head. “Are you going to run? It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” you exclaimed, eyes growing wide when you turned your head to see him taking a deep breath. “Pardon me, unlike you, I have curfews. My caretaker would have my head if I don’t go back home soon,” Renjun deadpanned, rolling his sleeves out as he felt shivers down his spine when the cold wind blew against his skin. 

Right before Renjun was about to take a step into the pouring rain, you grabbed on the sleeve of his shirt, holding him back. “Wait, when can we see each other again?” you asked, eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He paused, his cuckoo clock heart ticking loudly against his chest at the small action. He slowly turned back to you, furrowing his brows as he felt the small machine heat up against his skin, causing him to wince slightly. Noticing his small reaction, you quickly dropped your hand, apologizing abruptly before clasping your hands before your hand. 

“It’s just- I haven’t been in this town for very long and I really need a friend beside me. I’m not quite fond of being alone. I know we just met, but I hope that we could be acquaintances at least?” you grinned up, your bright smile sending ominous effects to his heart as he took a moment to process your words. Renjun started at your bright expression, small steam coming out continuously from his mechanical heart as the seconds went by. His eyes dart from the rain before back to your figure standing right in front of him, waiting for his answer. 

‘Acquaintances?’ 

Renjun has never had friends before. His caretaker would introduce him to her client’s children from time to time but (luckily for Madame Wendy) he had never shown an interest in making colleagues.  But for some reason, something inside him was pulling him to say yes to you. Something inside of him wanted him to try and get to know you even more. It felt wrong. It felt very wrong. But yet again, it felt so right. 

Biting his lip, he gave you a soft smile. 

“I have faith that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

-

“I just think it’s quite preposterous!” you exclaimed as you laid down against the smooth surface of the fountain basin. Renjun chuckled, pressing his paintbrush gently against his wooden palette to get bits of his white paint to add more details to his painting. 

It's been a couple months since the day you met, and since then, you two have been growing closer by the day. Your friendship blossomed as the weeks went by. Madam Wendy wasn’t very fond when Renjun came home soaking wet after curfew, but she excused his actions when he told her that he just lost track of time at the library once again. A rare occurrence but it still happens from time to time, and considering Renjun barely lies to his caretaker, she believed him when he told her so.

Every once a week, the two of you would meet up on the same exact spot as the day you first laid eyes on each other. Renjun assumed that your house was closer considering you were always there first, twisting the crank of your barrel organ, kicking your feet as you sat on the fountain base to wait for him to arrive in your usual dark magenta dress (which he assumed to be the uniform of the school you were attending). The two of you would always walk around town, searching for spots to relax yourselves and talk about random things as you watch Renjun paint whatever that catches his eye. Overall enjoying each other’s company as if the two of you were in your own personal little bubble. 

“What’s so preposterous about the infamous Romeo and Juliet, exactly?” Renjun asked, chuckling as he dabbed the brush on the canvas, blending the colours of the sky on his artwork. You clasped your hands together, huffing as you scoffed at him. “Ever since my school made us all read Romeo and Juliet for the next literature exam, I just realise how horrible this trope is,” you tossed your book to the floor with a click of your tongue, hopping off of the fountain to walk closer to Renjun. 

“Do explain why you think so,” Renjun giggled, watching you dip your finger against the white paint on his palette and kneeling down to smear it against the title on the front cover of your book with a frown on your face. “Why are the females always quote unquote ‘damsels in distress’? It’s very misogynistic if you ask me!” you tsked, grabbing your book and leaning forward to show Renjun the front cover of the book. “Mister Shakespeare was truly a legendary fellow to create a piece of writing this famous, but why use poor unsuspecting 14 year old Romeo and Juliet as the female protagonist?” you complained.

“Why couldn’t it be ‘Romeo romeo, let down your hair!’ instead of ‘romeo romeo, where art thou?” It seems a bit more fair to me,” you joked, causing Renjun to furrow his brows at you. “It might be quite improper for a boy to have tremendously long hair, y/n,” he had to lay the back of his hand against his chest in an attempt to calm down his mechanic heart, feeling it heat up against his skin as he noticed how close the proximity between you were. You scoffed at the boy before you, standing up straight and letting the book hand in between your fingers.

Putting your hands on your hips, you walked in front of him, covering his view of the town. “Well it doesn’t give Mister Shakespeare a reason to give the story an unhappy ending. The despair it brings when you found out they both died in the end? Absolutely preposterous, why would anyone like books with such unhappy endings?” you added on, poking your book with a scrunched up expression, bringing a smile upon Renjun’s lips as he found your figure poking the book in your hands as endearing as watching an small innocent child playing with their own food. 

He sucked in his lip, taking a moment to admire your beautiful form. The gears in his mechanical clock worked faster as his eyes wandered to your slightly pouting soft lips, wondering how soft it would feel against his own. He cleared his throat when he felt a sharp pain scorching through his chest when he realised he was starting to imagine things, patting his chest softly as he tried to bite back a smile. 

“Maybe you just haven’t read true masterpieces,” Renjun responded after a pregnant pause, opening his little bag and pulling out the novel he’s been obsessed with for the past few months, placing it in your palms. “Read this, you can thank me later,” Renjun smiled, patting the book in your hands with a light chuckle, looking up into your eyes for a brief moment before looking back at his canvas. For he feared that if he stared into them any longer, he would simply get lost in your eyes for ages, wincing silently when his chest started to ache. 

“‘The Great Expectations’? This sounds like those tedious books my parents keep on their shelf,” you raised your brow, sitting down on the fountain again as you began to observe the book in your palms, squinting your eyes at the summary written at the back cover of the book. “‘Break his heart, Estella! Break his heart!’ That sounds so cruel of her to break an innocent boy’s heart,” you frowned, looking up at your friend with the adorable frown Renjun came to endear. 

Renjun laughed, shrugging simply as he went back to painting. His fingers twitching against the brush as he coloured white clouds on his piece, feeling your eyes curiously on his content form. “You didn’t want the female protagonist to be the damsel in distress, did you? I just simply gave you what you asked for,” Renjun shrugged, feeling his heart do somersaults as you let out a loud huff of breath, scooching closer towards him so you can begin reading the book. “I suppose so,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Do you carry books like this around with you as you paint or are you a magician who can pull out rabbits out of that bag of yours as well?” you asked jokingly, pulling the cover open and flipping to the first page. “I-Wait hold on, a magician as well?” he furrowed his brows at you, turning his head towards you and leaning his head to the side in confusion. You shot your head up, giving him a bright expression as you nodded eagerly. 

“You might have half of the town convinced that you’re some cold hearted teenager living with the ‘witch’ or the makeshift doctor, as you would like to say, but you can’t fool me, mister! We may have known each other for less than a few months but I know for a fact that you are a magician!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, wiggling your index finger around, your fingertip hovering right above his nose before poking it with a small ‘boop; coming from your mouth. 

He furrowed his brows, gently pushing your hand away from his face with a raised brow. “Do you mind explaining why you have come to that conclusion?” Renjun asked, an amused expression spreading across his features as he dropped his brush into the cup of water set right beside him before crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back slightly. You grinned, “you’re one of the few people I’ve ever known who can paint so majestically. Have you seen your own paintings, Mister Huang Renjun?” you exclaimed, giving him a wide smile as you threw your arms up in the air. 

He chuckled, adjusting the beret on top of his head. “You don’t know many people, y/n,” he commented with a small smirk on his lips. “Let me finish before I usurp you, Huang,” you frowned, furrowing your brows and squinting your eyes threateningly at him. “I doubt that you even know what usurped means,” Renjun chuckled, shaking his head profusely at you. “Don’t doubt my low vocabulary, Renjun,” you crossed your hands, letting his book lay on your lap as he let out a soft laugh. 

“Alright, what are you going to usurp me from exactly?” he asked smugly, raising a brow at you. “That’s not the point of this conversation, what I’m saying is that you and your aesthetically pleasing art skills are magical!” you shot back in a snappy tone, avoiding the fact that you used a word that you don’t entirely know the meaning of. (considering you only heard it from your mother when she was talking to someone on the phone every morning whenever your father was off at work)  

He swore he could feel the ticking of his tock stop for a few seconds at your words. “Pardon?” he spluttered, putting his hand on his chest once again as he felt the gears in his cuckoo clock turn rapidly against his chest. “The way you carefully apply to each and every detail on every crevice of your canvas is like magic, the way you know how much paint you should apply to get just the right colours and the way you focus on shading or blending the paints together to achieve the small shadows or to adjust the lighting of the painting is just-” 

You paused before letting out a loud groan, “superb! I can’t even find the words on how to explain your magical abilities, the simplest way I can put it in my own way is that you are equivalent to a magician!” you waved your hands around at the canvas in front of the two of you, your eyes going wide in awe as you stared at the half finished piece as if it was the first time you had seen a rare jewel in person. 

Renjun’s jaw dropped as he couldn’t find the words to express how flustered he felt. However, the way his cuckoo clock began to steam up was another completely different thing. He couldn’t help but look down shy at his own paint stained hands, wondering how you could find awe in something as messy as his artwork. “And it is an absolute crime knowing that you aren’t some kind of world wide painter, your paintings are absolutely beautiful!” you exclaimed, smiling up at him as Renjun stared wordlessly into your eyes. 

He couldn’t help but notice how close you have gotten when you began on your unceremonious ramble about his art skills, he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting up your eyes and down to your plump lips. Gulping silently, he scooched back a little bit, gripping the sleeves of his button up shirt tightly as he tried to take the ticking of his heart against his ears, a fuzzy feeling overcoming the slight jolting pain in his chest as he did so.

He watched your eyes go wide at his actions, realizing that you moved too far. “Oh crumbs!” you exclaimed, taking a large step back as you realised the close proximity between you attracted attention from the people around you, eyes watching you like a hawk. Some held disgust to see two teenagers of the opposite gender oh-so-close to each other as if they were going to share a sweet kiss. Some held awe in them, adoring the sight of the two flustered beings cozying up to each other like that. Some held shock as they had never seen the mysterious cold hearted boy who lived in the little house on the steeple that close to someone before.

“I’m so so sorry!” you rambled, feeling your chest swell up as you grew flustered by your own actions. “I didn’t mean to get over excited! It’s just that I was so happy to talk about your art knowing how you don’t think much of it but I just really adore your art and the way you paint- oh god that sounds very inappropriate of me to say. What I meant was-” your short nervous ramblings were cut off when you heard Renjun’s laughter filling your ears, the angelic sound sending warm feelings into your heart. 

“Pardon me for laughing, but that really caught me off guard,” he threw his head back laughing, his cheeks flushing red from laughing too much as he held his stomach, wiping his tears afterward. Your jaw dropped at his amused laughter, embarrassment overcoming your nerves as you huffed angrily at him. “You absolute jerk, I thought I did something wrong and invaded your personal space or made you uncomfortable!” you exclaimed, putting your hands on your hips angrily, only eliciting even more laughter from the sweet boy. 

“It’s really endearing that you find my art that interesting, you really did catch me off guard with your little outburst,” he chuckled, lifting his beret off of his head before running his free hand over his hair, putting the beret back on his head afterwards. You couldn’t deny how pretty he looked with that beret, but of course, you weren’t going to admit it (again) for the sake of your own pride. “I was just expressing my opinions like a normal person, you didn’t have to laugh at me like that, you know,” you crossed your arms against your chest. 

“I wasn’t laughing at your outburst, I can promise you that!” he exclaimed, shaking his head at you, ignoring the searing pain in his chest as he stared lovingly at you. You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t help but notice the slightly sad glint on his pupils, but you chose not to ask about it, focusing on the topic at hand. “Then what were you laughing at exactly, Huang Renjun?” you asked, furrowing your brows at the brown haired boy, who smiled sweetly at you. Leaning his chin against his palm, elbow supported on his thigh. 

“I couldn’t help but laugh at how sweet you looked while talking about the things I do in front of you as if I were moving the sun and moon with my own bare hands.”

-

“You know you have a lovely smile.”

Renjun looked up from his book in alarm, eyes wide at your sudden bluntness. “Excuse me?” he coughed, releasing one hand from the book cover to lay it against the rough surface of his clock heart hidden underneath his coat. “I really like your smile,” you gave him a tight lipped smile, putting the Great Expectations book on the desk you were sitting before laying your hands over the other, placing your chin on top of them before gazing up at him with an innocent shrug. “You’re being quite expressive today,” Renjun chuckled, looking at you with a perplexed expression, his brows furrowed as he kept his hand against his heart, suppressing the little bird inside from letting out a loud ‘cuckoo!’. 

“I don’t like to lie, you know that, Renjun,” you pouted, raising your head up to give him a knowing look. Sitting up straight, Renjun shot you a boyish smile, looking back down at his book. “Why, thank you. That’s quite flattering,” Renjun chuckled, burying his nose in his book in a futile attempt to hide how flustered he felt. Putting the back of his hand against his mouth, he coughed to clear his throat before removing his hand and putting it on his nape to scratch on it nervously. “How are you liking the book so far?”

Renjun cringed at the slight waver in his tone, biting back his tongue as he heard you let out a small hum. “So far, it’s pretty engrossing. It perfectly depicts the image of a young male protagonist losing his child-like innocence through heartbreak and hardship,” you clicked your tongue, folding the corner of the page you were reading before flipping through the other pages to see how many you have left to read. “A compelling coming of age story,” you nodded with a slight shrug. 

“Though, I still don’t understand why you recommended me this book,” you closed the book and placed it back down on the desk, furrowing your brows in curiosity. Renjun gave you a sheepish grin, shrugging as he went back to his own book before replying with a, “you’ll find out once you finish the book,” under his breath. You huffed in response, leaning your forehead against the hardcover of the book, letting out a dramatic sigh. He let out a silent smile, adjusting his glasses as he continued to read the last paragraph of his own book. 

Your eyes glared holes into his head as if he was going to tell you if you glared at him long enough, but you realised that he was back into his own little world now that he was fully immersed into the plot. Your eyes wandered back to the canvas on top of the desk right beside him, his set of acrylic paints and brushes gathered up into a small pile. He had just finished his latest painting of the statue of the founder of this boring town, his artwork never failed to awe you. 

“When I finally manage to finish the book, will you give me one of your artworks free of charge?” you piped up, outstretching your hand as you poked the canvas, trying to pull the large object towards you with a single fingertip in futility. Ever since you started spending your time watching Renjun paint while he listened to you rambling, you had often asked him to draw something for you for free. In which he would always reply with a brief ‘buy your own, acrylics are immensely expensive.’ before rolling his eyes and going back to painting. 

He wasn’t completely wrong. Madam Wendy always grumbled on how paint prices are constantly increasing as time goes on. And whenever Renjun would make a quick trip to the art store just to buy another bottle of white paint, he would always suppress the urge to sigh heavily in front of the kind store owner who would grin innocently (despite the fact that they know full well that they were being absolute gooses for increasing the price as Renjun was going to buy their products nonetheless.)

However it came as a shock to the both of you when he muttered a small ‘fine’ under his breath. Eyes blowing wide as Renjun slowly looked up from his book and eerily turned to you, right before he could open his mouth to retract his words, you shot up to your feet. Catching the boy off guard as you leaned over to cover his mouth with your hands. “No! You are not taking that statement back!” you exclaimed, shaking your head aggressively as you gave him a wide mischievous smile. 

Renjun furrowed his brows, eyes glaring daggers at you to let him go despite the fact that his gears were turning at a rapid speed at the feeling of your skin against his lips. “I’m not letting go unless you say yes,” you mused in a melodious tone, earning a shake of his head in response as he continued to send you his typical cold stare.

Renjun always had a really mean resting face, his eyes always managed to send cold shivers down everyones’ spines. However, there was something comforting in the way he looked at you. A familiar warm feeling blooming in your chest whenever he turned his head to look at you, even though his eyes barely held any emotion, even though his small chuckles and laughs held no genuine happiness in them, you couldn’t help but let a fuzzy feeling grow inside of your stomach. It was exhilarating.

“Come on, you probably have billions of canvases somewhere in town. Giving one away to your dearest friend shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” you whined, still refusing to remove your hand from his lips. He was internally enjoying the close proximity between you, but as the seconds went on, he knew his clock heart was going to burst out of his chest if he didn’t do something. With a small curse in his mind, he pulled your hand away from his mouth. “I would if you paid me. But considering you are currently penniless, I have to politely decline,” Renjun snickered, giving you a disgusted expression as he felt the heat around his mouth disappear into thin air. 

You frowned, pursing your lips as you sat back down on your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “How could you do this to your most beloved friend?” you mumbled under your breath, loud enough for him to hear as you kicked one of the legs of the table in front of you childishly. Renjun chuckled, “‘Beloved’ isn’t even a word I would use to describe your existence.” Now it was your turn to glare daggers into his skull. “You’re incredibly mean, it’s almost bonkers,” you scoffed. 

“I know,” he shrugged casually, pulling his chair back to stand up. “Now if you excuse me, I would like to wash up to remove whatever bacteria you have oh-so-unceremoniously blessed upon my skin,” he bowed, pushing the chair back in the table as he tugged on the cuffs of his coat, giving you a small grin. “My hands are squeaky clean, excuse me!” you retorted, putting a hand on your chest in faux offense. “Keep telling yourself that, Y/n,” he nodded, abruptly walking towards the washroom at the back of the library with a hand on his chest as the effects of his emotions finally took place inside his mechanical ticking heart. 

As soon as Renjun turned to a corner, out of your line of vision, his whole body started twitching in pain. With a shaky hand he pulled back his coat to reveal the state of his clock. The hands of his clock were turning at a rapid speed, the small bird popping out of the clock and letting out a small ‘cuckoo!’. It was steaming up. Smoke was coming out of the contraption as if it was caught on fire. He felt like his chest was on fire. Renjun leaned his back against the wall, shakily blowing the smoke away and fanning it away softly with his hand. 

What’s happening to him? 

This has never happened before. What was happening to him? Why was he in so much pain? Why couldn’t he call out for help? Why couldn’t he make any sound?

Renjun wanted to cry out in pain, his body twitched as the tiny mechanical bird popped out of his clock with a loud ‘cuckoo!’. He gasped, patting his hands around his pockets for the key to his mechanical heart. He could hear the alarming ticking sounds of his clock with every second that went by, warning him something’s going to happen if nothing is done to stop this pain as he twitched in pain once again, clutching the clock with one hand, he felt something inside the pocket of his shirt. With a small grunt of pain, he fished out the small golden key inside. 

He pulled his hand away from his clock, gasping for breath as the pain in his chest increased with every tick of his heart. He plunged the key into the small hole connecting the arrows of the clock, quickly turning it counter clockwise as the pain started to lessen. Once the pain subsided, he dropped his hand to his sides, panting in exhaustion as his eyes blew wide with fear, his gears were working at their usual pace once again. His chest felt numb, a small throbbing pain lingering somewhere inside of him. 

‘What the hell was that?’ 

His eyes were glossy as he felt his emotions overwhelm his mind. His heart felt like it was going through a spin, as if the big hand of his core was going to pop out of his skin. His bones felt weak, as if it was about to implode at any second. The cogs and springs in his clock felt like they were about to explode. 

The loud alarming ticking in his ears made him wonder if he didn’t pull out the key in time, would his cuckoo clock heart halt for good?

-

“I’ll be off now, Wendy,” Renjun announced as he hopped down the stairs eagerly, gripping his fresh, new, empty canvas to his sides with one hand and spinning one of his brushes in between the fingers of the other. “Oh, you seem in a bit of a hurry, Renjun,” a familiar voice cooed teasingly, her words followed by another giggle. Renjun paused in his step, mustering up the energy to form a small smile as he looked up at the two women giggling at him. “Good morning, Joy. Good morning, Yeri,” he greeted with a polite bow. 

Joy and Yeri weren’t related in any way to Madam Wendy, but they are regular patients who would drop by weekly. And as far as he knew, they were one of the very few people who knew about his fragile condition (which is probably why they visit so often). “You look brighter than usual, what’s gotten you in such a rush, young lad?” Yeri grinned, sipping on her tea as she crossed her leg over the other with raised eyebrows. 

“It’s just a small trip to town, I need to buy more acrylics as well,” Renjun lied through his teeth, feeling the gears in his heart work faster at the thought of meeting you at your usual spot. “You haven’t had breakfast yet, Renjun,” Wendy spoke up, attracting the attention of the three in the room with pancakes stacked on three individual plates. “Do sit down! It’s been quite a while since you had a chit chat with your lovely aunts!” Joy giggled, patting the extra seat beside her before looking at her friend, who nodded in agreement. 

“I really shouldn’t interrupt-” 

“Renjun, go sit down,” Madam Wendy coaxed, placing a hand on his shoulder and nodding towards the empty spot on the sofa. Renjun looked back at his caretaker before sighing heavily, placing his canvas and brushes on the table near the entrance door and walking to sit on the empty spot the women had saved for him. “I’ll be upstairs cleaning up, if you need me,” his caretaker informed before exiting the living room, leaving her adopted son with the other two women in the room. 

“Okay, she’s gone!” Yeri exclaimed in a rather quiet tone before grabbing her fork and looking back at the teenager sitting beside them. “So how are you, honey? I just realised we didn’t even get to greet you last week considering you’ve been so busy lately,” Yeri hummed, shoving a spoonful of pancakes into her mouth as she spared a glance at Renjun. “Indeed! I assume you found something interesting in your great adventure in the outside world,” Joy giggled with an enthusiastic nod, causing Renjun’s eyes to widen. 

Renjun let out a small chuckle. “You two make it sound as if I was a protagonist of some weird story,” he mused, digging into his own stack of pancakes as he felt a warm feeling in his stomach at the memory of the day you first met. “Don’t beat around the bush and tell us!” Joy rolled her eyes at the younger boy, grabbing her cup of tea and pulling it to her lips. “How was this great adventure you’ve discovered?” she asked, her eyes flickering from her tea to Renjun briefly. 

Renjun bit his lip, scanning the room to ensure that Madam Wendy was nowhere in sight. He knew he could trust these two, considering the countless times he’s gotten away with his lies and rants. He bit his lip, glancing down at his hands nervously before giving his aunts a genuine smile. “It was fabulous,” he sighed dreamily, a sheepishly wide smile stretching across his lips as he took another bashful bite of his pancakes. “Tell all! Tell all! Don’t miss any details!” Yeri squealed. 

“What made it all so fabulous?” Joy whispered, her eyes peering curiously at the boy who appeared to be in a dreamy state. “A little singer with glasses which she won’t wear,” he replied almost instantly without any hesitation, a little bit too fast for his liking. “She isn’t all that, is she?” Yeri gasped, leaning back slightly in shock to hear her little Renjun was talking about someone and not something. 

He shot up, straightening his back as he dropped his fork on his plate with a shake of his head. “She is! She really is!” Renjun nodded eagerly, his hands coming up to make grand gestures as he continued on with his words. “She reminds me of a… sparrow! Perched up on the toppest tree branch in it’s tiny little feet, it gives her this calming fragile aura like a twig falling off of a branch. Her voice- her singing is like listening to a nightingale singing a bird song but with words! Or those soothing musical numbers they would always play in the telly after a good show has ended,” Renjun described, his eyes filled with stars and his heart filled with passion. 

The two shared knowing looks, bewildered at how dazed the boy in front of them truly was at that moment. “And her smile it’s like a work of art! Far greater than all of my masterpieces combined, far greater than the artwork displayed on museums! Her laughter makes her seem so miniscule, I could hardly believe that such a light heartening sound could be elicited from a human being!” Renjun went on, his smile wide as he leaned back at the thought of your smile which made his stomach do somersaults. 

“Oh Renjun, I bet that once she catches the flu, you’ll change your mind. Whenever women like those who catch the flu, they cough up a storm and sneeze like a steam truck,” Yeri joked, earning a brief frown from Renjun who scoffed in response. “Oh nonsense! I bet if she does, it would sound like a majestic flute found in the mountains!” Renjun waved his hand off with a roll of his eyes in disbelief.

The two women laughed in response, shaking a knowing look. “So basically, to sum everything up. You went to town and instead of catching the flu, you caught a bug in town, you young lad!” Yeri raised her eyebrow suggestively at the boy, indicating that he’s very much caught the love-bug she’s always ranted about on a daily basis. “Oh deary!” Joy gasped before letting out another fit of giggles, cupping her mouth to ensure that her giggles weren’t loud enough for Madam Wendy to hear. 

“You know it’s forbidden,” Yeri lectured, her tone turning serious when she realised that Renjun was actually serious about this. “For-bid-den!” Joy emphasized with every wave of her finger with a disappointing shake of her head. “I know,” Renjun sighed, a frown forming at his lips as he sunk back against the seat he was sitting on, leaning his head back sadly. “It’s for your own good, you know,” Joy smiled sadly, sympathy lacing her tone as she patted the boy’s head comfortingly. 

“Indeed. Oh deary, I wish I could live without love,” Yeri sighed, pulling out a mirror from her purse to reapply her lipstick. “Oh no, here we go again,” Renjun chuckled, sitting up straight once again as he prepared himself for another sad tragic love story his aunt has to offer. “Every day, every time I fall in love with a patient here or a man, they would always fall for some other girl!” Yeri ranted with a heavy sigh, smacking her lips together to get an even coating on her lips. “I am not letting Renjun listen to another one of your sob stories!” Joy huffed, leaning over to cup Renjun’s ears with her palms. 

“You might taint the poor boy with your bad luck with love!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t my condition a symbol of this bad luck?” Renjun chuckled, gently tugging on the older woman's wrists to remove her palms away from his ear. “Oh hush you, I’m sure you’ll get over this little infatuation you have with this little singer,” Yeri waved her hand off nonchalantly, huffing slightly. “It’s not like you see her every day of the week, you’ll get over it in no time!” she added with an encouraging hum, watching as Joy nodded with her in agreement. 

Renjun bit his lip, biting back his tongue as he continued to shove pancakes into his mouth as quickly as possible. At that moment, Madam Wendy finally came down with a key in her hand. “Renjun, I’ve always told you to bring your key wherever you go. Why won’t you ever take my words to heart?” Wendy sighed, handing the key to his mechanic heart to the young boy, who gulped slightly and mumbled a small apology under his breath before tucking his key in his front pocket. 

He couldn’t help but shiver as the memory of him having a near death experience flashed through his mind, the image of the key plunging into his heart and winding it up to lessen the pain he endured had traumatized him. He was terrified of it happening again. He was terrified of what’s becoming of him. Was this the effects of falling in love? Was he falling in love with you? He hasn’t even known you for very long, he couldn’t possibly fall for you in such a short time.

Besides, why does falling in love feel so good but hurt so bad?

-

“So how was the book I lent you?” Renjun asked in an attempt to spark up a conversation. “Quite interesting, though, I’m not quite sure that I’ll finish it any time soon. I like to focus deep into the depths of the story, fully imagine the characters emotions and thoughts,” you exclaimed, pushing your organ barrel beside the tree Renjun was leaning against, sitting down beside him under the shade and crossing your legs, tugging the edges of your dress over your knees. You dusted the bits of dirt off of the fabric on your dress. 

“I understand, it’s the thought process, right?” Renjun nodded, flipping a page of his book as he hummed. “Indeed! Though, I can’t quite get the gist of why Ms Havisham is so devoted to making Estella break Pip’s heart. She should’ve just left the poor girl alone, besides, I really don’t want to see the poor boy heartbroken,” you frowned, clicking your tongue in thought. “I despise Pip’s sister, as well,” you added with an innocent smile. 

Renjun let out an amused chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a rather insufferable character, isn’t she?” he nodded in agreement, remembering how heartless Pip’s older sister was when it came to Pip and her own husband before she passed away in the book. “She’s exactly what my mother would consider as a bitch,” you added on, pulling your glasses out from your purse with a small giggle, earning a loud gasp from the boy beside you.  “Y/n, language!” he gasped, pulling his book back to gaze at you with wide eyes. 

You giggled, mumbling a small apology before fidgeting with the frames of your glasses mindlessly. Renjun watched you play with your glasses from the corner of his eye, internally wondering why you have never worn them despite carrying them around in your purse everywhere you go. Furrowing his brows, he turned his head back to his book, biting back his tongue before shaking his head at himself.

“You know, you really shouldn’t play games with your sight if it leaves you in the dark, y/n,” Renjun deadpan, not sparing you a glance as he licked the tip of his thumb to flip a page from his new book. You huffed at your friend, fidgeting with your new spectacles in between your fingers as you rolled your eyes at the boy beside you. “How poetic,” you scoffed, earning a soft chuckle from Renjun. “I think I prefer life all a blur, thank you very much,” you added on with a snappy tone. 

“What does that even mean?” Renjun laughed lightly, putting his book down on his lap to turn to you with a soft expression on his face. “I keep forgetting to wear my glasses and now my eyes are blurry, I can’t even see the outline of my hand,” you stated, raising your free hand up above to the sky and squinted your eyes at it in an attempt to get a clearer vision of your hand that was merely a few inches away from you. “Your glasses are literally in your palms,” Renjun pointed out, nodding his head at the hand holding the glasses in question. 

You opened your mouth to speak, slowly putting your glasses in your little handbag behind you before clearing your throat. “As I said before, I forgot to wear my glasses,” you repeated, giving him a cheshire grin in response. “Jesus Christ, why do I even bother?” Renjun muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, “won’t your vision get worse the lesser you wear them?” he asked once again, rubbing his temples in distress. 

Humming in confirmation, you shrugged innocently before leaning back against the tree the two of you were sitting against. “Though, I believe it won’t get worse as long as I close my eyes. My vision won’t get worse if I don’t see, right? Besides, it feels good to close my eyes,” just as you finished your words, you clasped your hands on your lap, leaning your head back against the tree bark and closing your eyes before letting out a sigh of content. Renjun let out an annoyed puff of breath, “I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

Your content expression was enough to send fiery sparks into his mechanical heart, he could almost feel it steaming up again. He couldn’t help but notice how close you were next to him, as if he were to make one little scooch, your shoulders would be touching. His eyes wandered to your beautiful figure laying right beside him, internally suppressing the urge to clasp you close to his body in a tight embrace. Your soft lips causing his stomach to do somersaults the longer his gaze lingers there. He imagines that he would scatter confettis on the both of you if he were to press his own lips against yours in a kiss. 

His mind couldn’t help but wander back to those times where you had to walk up close to the signs to see what street the two of you were heading, the amount of times you had to squint and lean over the table to read whatever paragraph he was trying to show you during your reading sessions at the library. He felt this sudden urge to protect you, to constantly remind you to wear your glasses in case your vision worsened. 

There was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you stray away from the happy path you were currently in. Something inside of him made him determined to be your only guide, to be your pair of eyes. In return, he knew you would ignite the flame in his heart. No, you would be the special flame that burns his heart. You’d be a conflagration in the night. A pretty arsonist. A fire blazing so bright you’ll see the light of the heavens itself. 

“Oh why bother. You know very well, out of my five senses, my hearings best. I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize you without relying on my eyes,” you waved your hand off carelessly, keeping your eyes closed, oblivious to the way Renjun was looking at you so lovingly. “Well I assure you, I don’t think you can rely on your hearing to walk down the streets without my assistance,” Renjun chuckled, recalling the time when you almost walked into the wrong side of town due to your poor eyesight. 

“You don’t know that! My eyes always lead me astray, anyways. Far away down the street, sometimes I can’t bear to steal a glance at the sun or even look the sky straight in the eye for fear that my eyes would deceive me as well,” you confessed dramatically, finally opening your eyes and turning your head to look at Renjun in the eye. Your eyes widened at the way Renjun’s eyes softened at the sight of your own pupils staring back at his in confusion. You straighten up your position, putting your hands behind you and leaning on them. 

“Then let me be your eyes,” Renjun replied in an almost hushed tone. “I won’t let you stray, I promise,” he gave you a sweet boyish smile, making your heart flutter in your chest at his words. “Aren’t you being a little flirtatious? That’s quite unexpected of you, Huang Renjun,” you said with a raise of your brows as the corner of your lips quirked up into a smile that mirrored his own. You turned your head, feeling your faces grow closer and closer with every second. 

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” he hummed, turning his body so his shoulder was leaning against the tree bark, a dreamy smile stretched across his lips as he leaned closer to you. You chuckled, shaking your head softly. “I don’t know, what do you think? Maybe it could be a good thing?” you shrugged, closing your eyes and leaning your face closer to his. Renjun followed your actions, feeling the gears in his mechanical heart work at a fast pace. He winced in pain as his body jolted and twitched in pain, the mechanical bird inside of the clock rapidly hitting the door of his clock.

He felt your breath hitting against his face, your lips merely an inch away from his as his body twitched in pain once again. Letting out a grunt of pain, he felt one of the gears of his clock pop out of his chest. Putting his hands on his chest, he grunted once again as his body twitched uncontrollably in pain. There was the sound of fabric being ripped before his vision darkened and he fell back against the concrete floor, falling unconscious within a few seconds.

“Renjun!” a voice yelled out in alarm, causing your eyes to jolt open in shock. 

“Oh god, not this. Please, anything but this,” an unfamiliar voice gasped in a panic. Your vision was blurry, you couldn’t see much happening in front of you. You quickly fished out your spectacles from your purse, putting them on immediately before your eyes widened in fear and shock, your body froze on the spot. You could almost feel your heart stop beating against your chest for a moment. 

Right in front of you was an unconscious Huang Renjun in the arms of an older lady on the floor. He was leaning against her lap, arms wrapped around him tightly in a motherly way. His eyes closed in content, it almost appeared as if he was just sleeping peacefully. There was steam coming out of his chest, you couldn’t see where it was coming from considering the old lady had blocked your view of him almost completely as she pleaded for him to wake up worriedly. 

The lady in question snapped her head at you, glaring daggers at you as if you had committed some sort of arson. “What have you done to him?” she asked, her tone filled with malice and hatred. As if you were the cause of Renjun’s current state. Your eyes widened at her sharp tone, fear and anxiety creeping up in your veins as you couldn’t find the courage to even open your mouth, let alone utter a single word. You shakily got up to your feet, grabbing the strap of your purse before running off away from the two.

-

Slap!

The loud sound of Madam Wendy’s palm making contact with Renjun’s cheek pierced the room, causing his head to turn sideways at the harsh impact, wincing slightly as he laid against the chair, which was commonly used for Wendy’s patients, shirtless. His body jolted at the sudden contact, his heart making a loud ‘cuckoo’ sound at the shock it caused. “What were you thinking? You could’ve died!” Madam Wendy scolded, her fists balled up in her sides as she walked over to her table tray filled with tools. 

Renjun couldn’t speak as he looked down in his palms, his mind blank and face void of emotion. He felt numb at that exact moment, he didn’t know if it was the aftermath of the sheering pain he just endured in front of you or it was because of the feeling of his heart being fixed by his own caretaker. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Huang Renjun. Whatever bloody happened to rule number 3? Did you forget?” Madam Wendy exclaimed in an alarming tone, her voice strict and angry. “No,” Renjun replied before breaking into a small fit of coughs, wincing as his chest burned with every breath he took. 

“Do you have a pain in your heart when you cough?” Madam Wendy asked, her tone filled with worry, eyes filled with disappointment as she searched for a pair of pliers. Renjun nodded slowly in response, gripping the armrests of the chair as he leaned his head back against the pillow set behind his head. “Well multiply that pain and your suffering to a hundred fold and you still won’t understand the pain love causes,” she snapped, using some pliers to pull a piece of fabric from the arrows of his heart, placing the fabric on the small tray beside him before walking off to grab some more tools. 

“And the greater the love, the greater the pain,” she sighed, opening the drawers from across the room. Renjun’s eyes flickered to the woman frantically trying to fix his heart before his eyes moved down to the white fabric on the tray. He reached his arm out to grab it, quickly snucking it in his pockets before looking back at the window. During your near-kiss under the tree, the arrows of his clock must’ve pulled against the fabric of your dress. Your dress wasn’t made out of the most durable fabric, the pull must’ve ripped the top sleeve of your dress when he passed out. 

“First, your sense of ache, followed by pangs of rage and jealousy then incomprehension,” she started to explain, sipping on her coffee as Wendy’s heart ached at the thought of her own child going through that much pain if this goes on.  “Rejection, the agony of heartbreak,” she turned to point her tweezers that was holding a gear in between it with a strict motherly expression. One that Renjun couldn’t bear looking into for too long.

“Your mechanical heart won’t be able to withstand it, you know this! I told you countless times, this is why I’m always so worried whenever I let you go into town,” she barked, walking back to the tools to drop the rusted gear along with the other broken metals she pulled out and replaced from his heart. “It will overheat and explode, I transplanted it with my own two hands, therefore I know it’s limits,” she went on, her tone falling deaf onto Renjun’s ears as his mind wandered back to your figure. 

“A single kiss. A brush against your lips could be your last! Just like that, bang!”

With eyes closed in thought, he wondered what happened after he fell unconscious, how did Madam Wendy find him in such a short amount of time? What happened to you? Did he scare you when he fell unconscious? He was worried you’ll  be afraid to talk to him now. Did Wendy say anything mean to you while he was out cold on the concrete floor?

Oh god, your presence isn’t even here and your existence is entering his heart and filling it with flames as if you were a little fairy wandering around looking for a new home to live in. A home which is his heart. He couldn’t help but let out a small smile at the vivid memory of sitting so close to you under the shade, how his skin burns at the feeling of touching yours, how your smile and laughter gave colour to his emotionless dark world. Oh how the thought of you made Renjun feel as if he was floating. It was as if you were carrying him up into the sky, he felt like flying by your side. 

“Do you know why I saved your life?” a voice snapped him out of his daydreaming.

His eyes opened, head turning to his caretaker who took a seat next to him, gripping her gloves in her hands. “You were the son I never had,” she confessed, giving him a small comforting smile. “Why couldn’t you have one?” Renjun asked rather hesitantly, his voice almost hushed as if he was whispering, despite the fact that it was only the two of them in the room. Madam Wendy shrugged, sighing heavily. 

“It was no one’s fault. It’s one of those tricks love and nature plays on us, you know that more than anyone,” she chuckled, gesturing to the cuckoo clock heart on his naked chest. “Though, the day your mother gave you to me felt like it was heaven sent. Oh god, I would lose my mind and my reason for living if I lost you,” she reached over and ran her fingers through her child’s hair, making Renjun feel some sort of guilt deep down in his chest. 

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I fell in love and I don’t know how to get out.

-

Madam Wendy finally allowed Renjun out of their home a month after the incident. For the whole thirty days he was prisoned in his home, all that wandered in his mind was you. He wanted to see you, he longed to hear your sardonic humor, he longed to hear your angelic laughter flowing through his ears like music. He longed to ask forgiveness of what had happened between the two of you under the tree.

He wondered if you harbored the same feelings for him as he does for you. He doubted you’d still feel the same after the incident, however, a part of him had hope that you would wait for him all this time. He tried to prove himself wrong as he ran around town to all of your favorite spots. The library, the fountain, the art store, the tree. Anywhere his mind took him, his feet didn’t stop moving. His feet couldn’t stop moving. 

He wanted to see you again. No, he needed to see you again. He needed to apologize to you to release the guilt in his heart. He didn’t care if his heart would explode right then and there, he needed to see you and he wanted to finally embrace you in his arms. He needed to know if you reciprocate his feelings, he needed to know if you longed for him as much as he longed for you this whole entire time. He never got your answer, either. He asked to be your eyes, he wanted to be your guide. He wanted to tell you to rely on him if you can’t rely on your eyes, he wanted to hold your hand to keep you from straying to the wrong path. He wanted to feel his lips brush against yours, he wanted to feel love. He wanted to feel loved by you.

His heart fell even more when he realised he couldn’t find you anywhere. No one knew where you went, no one has seen you since the day he fell unconscious. It was as if you had disappeared off of the surface of the earth. The only thing he had of you was the fabric he accidentally tore off of your dress. He realised you left your barrel organ ride beside the tree. It was already collecting dust as leaves fell in between the spaces of the organ. 

You were gone. 

The owner of the library informed him that you had fled abroad. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the thought of you running away. You didn’t even say goodbye. You didn’t even have the audacity to tell him you were leaving? Surely you would have informed him that you were leaving. Yet again, you did tell him on the first day you met that you weren’t supposed to stay here for too long. But was it too much of him to ask you to at least say goodbye?

-

Two years later, it was Renjun’s 18th birthday. Two years since he lost you, two years since he went back to the hollow shell he formerly was before he fell in love. He spent months wallowing in his own sorrow, he spent months wondering if you missed him the same way he missed you. He no longer looked forward to walking out of his home to paint, all he saw was grey. The places he spent with you made his vision dark and grey, it was as if the joy inside of him were stripped from his vision. 

He didn’t know what to do. His heart grew numb, he didn’t know how to make himself happy again. It was as if he had lost a part of himself. He had lost something precious. Which he did, he lost you. He didn’t know what to do. Yet, on a rare occasion, he would take small walks into town. 

Madam Wendy noticed how Renjun’s whole existence grew dull ever since that day, his eyes were always dark as if he hasn’t slept for centuries, a frown permanently placed on his lips, his movements weak as if he didn’t have the energy to move. At this point he admitted that he was barely living, he was just a human body existing with a cuckoo clock as a heart. His days were no longer as bright as they used to.

To Renjun, the days felt like it was repeating itself. He wasn’t allowed to go to school, for Madam Wendy feared that he would be made fun of and bullied by his peers. Everyday, he would wake up and wind up his heart, take a long shower, eat his breakfast, paint or read his books, occasionally talking to the patients who attempted to make small talk with him (however that wouldn’t last very long considering he had no interest whatsoever in interacting with strangers he barely knew), eat dinner, go to bed. Repeat. 

It was an exhausting cycle. His mind was growing dull. Whenever his mental health became worse, he would take a walk into town to clear his mind to try and lift his own spirits (despite the fact that he knew it’s futile. After all, he’s been trying this for the past two years.) Today was unfortunately one of those days. 

Renjun had decided to take a small visit to the library. He remembered how he had to apologize to the librarian for lending you the Great Expectations book when he remembered that you’ve never returned the book back to him. He still felt guilty despite the fact that the librarian didn’t mind it very much. The librarian lady took a liking to both you and Renjun, she thought the two of you would’ve ended up together if it weren’t for the fact that you had moved away without a goodbye.

But fortunately for Renjun, today was a different day. Today would be the day to end his miserable lifestyle. 

“Renjun! Renjun, my dear boy! How are you, honey?” the librarian greeted, putting a stack of books on the counter as Renjun entered the library with a bashful smile on his face. “Same as always, Mrs. Dust,” he bowed to greet the older lady politely, snucking his hands in his pockets after tugging on his coat. “Honey, I have lovely news for you! You remember your old friend, Miss Y/n, don’t you?” the lady giggled, walking over to the young adult with an eager smile on her face. 

Oh how Renjun’s heart perked up at the brief mention of your name. 

“Of course I do, Mrs. What about her?” he coughed, clearing his throat to prevent his voice from shaking. “I’ve received a letter from her! Oh hold on, dearie,” she giggled, squatting down to open the small drawer near her desk and pulling out a small postcard which had a familiar handwriting written on the back. “It must be your birthday soon. Happy birthday, my dear boy. The least I can do is give you this,” she smiled, handing Renjun the postcard with a hum. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Dust,” he smiled, gripping the postcard tightly in between his fingers as he looked down on it. It was indeed from you. You didn’t write much on the card, nothing more than a simple ‘happy birthday’ and a small ‘I missed you’. You had written your name at the edge of the card and a small ‘R’ beside the happy birthday, indicating that it was truly for him. Fireworks erupted in his stomach when he saw small hearts doodled all over the card with a red pen. 

You remembered him. 

You missed him. 

You thought of him.

Those words were enough to revive the spark in his heart. Those were enough to spread a bright genuine smile across his lips. His cheeks hurt from how wide his smile was, he felt like jumping for joy. He was so ecstatic he thought he could fly to the sky, he felt his fingers itching as his eyes wandered to the address you have written at the bottom of the postcard, giving him a hint of where you might be living. 

Andalusia. 

You were half across Europe. You were so far away, yet so close. He wanted to see you. He needed to see you. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, he needed to get a move on and he needed to find you. He thought sending you a postcard back wasn’t enough. He wanted to see the girl who managed to turn his heart without the key, he wanted to see the girl who produced a spark in his heart with only a few mere words.

He ran all the way back home, encountering Joy and Yeri on the way back and shooting them with an uncharacteristically bright smile stretched across his face. “Renjun, lad, what’s gotten you all jumpy?” Joy exclaimed, causing Renjun to stop in his tracks. “I got a letter from her!” he informed them, his voice high-pitched as if he just got told that he had personally won the sun, moon and stars all to himself. In his case, he actually did. He actually did.

“A letter?” Yeri squeaked up, a smile stretching across her face at the sight of the younger boy’s. “From who?” Joy asked, giggles bubbling up in between the two ladies as they watch Renjun suppress the urge to jump for joy. “Y/n! She remembers me! She sent me a postcard from Andalusia,” he exclaimed, waving the postcard in their faces. Joy’s eyes wandered down to Renjun’s chest, watching as the hands of his clock spun rapidly, indicating how excited the young adult was feeling. 

“Y/n? Was this the young girl you went on about a few years ago?” Yeri asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Renjun himself. “Renjun, that’s great news! What are you planning to do then? Write her another letter?” she asked once again, clasping her hands in front of her at the delightful news. The boy shook his head eagerly, his smile never faltering. 

“I’m going to find her, I’m going to find her and confess my love,” he breathed out, his own words taking his breath away. The thought of seeing you again was enough to send him flying into the heavens, oh for all things that’s holy, he didn’t know how he was going to proclaim his love for you in person when he could barely explain it in words himself.

“To Andalusia? Renjun, that’s halfway across Europe! Madam Wendy won’t be very happy about this,” Joy informed him, a sympathetic smile replacing her previously bright one. Renjun’s smile faltered at the mention of his caretaker, looking down at the postcard you had sent him, your messy handwriting beckoning him to come to you. He sucked his bottom lip, his heart racing at the thought of rebelling against Madam Wendy’s orders.

Yet again, if he did end up dying from this, all of Madam Wendy’s efforts throughout the past two decades would be in vain. She was practically his guardian after all, but yet again, he was a legal adult now isn’t he? He’s 18 years old, he didn’t have to live under her rules anymore if he didn’t want to. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty for wanting to flee Edinburgh just to see you again, something inside of him was screaming at him to run.

Maybe this time, he would listen to it.

“Joy, Yeri, will you help me escape Edinburgh?”

-

“Renjun? What are you doing up so late?” 

Renjun froze, halting his movements as he dropped another sweater into his suitcase. He shut his eyes tightly as his heart raced against his chest, taking a deep breath to compose himself before standing up to face his caretaker as he zipped up his suitcase tight. “Wendy,” he cleared his throat, gripping tightly on the saddle of his suitcase with a small cough, slipping the key to his heart in his front pockets. “Renjun, why do you have a suitcase packed? It’s past curfew,” she narrowed her eyes at the boy.

“Wendy, I am now a legal adult. I have turned 18 years old,” Renjun started, suppressing the urge to gulp down his nerves but he kept his ground. “Yes, I know that, Renjun. That still doesn't answer my question as to why you’re up this late with a packed suitcase,” she nodded, tone laced with confusion as Renjun took a step back towards the opened window, looking out at the moonlight. “Y/n sent me a postcard… from Andalusia,” his voice grew quieter as the seconds went by.

“I’m planning to travel half across Europe to see her again.”

“No, I forbade it.” Wendy shook her head, taking a step forward towards her adopted child, her hands balled up into fists at how Renjun’s determined expression didn’t falter at the slightest bit at her strict tone. “I expected you to say that,” Renjun sighed, walking over to the open window and looking up at the moon shining down upon the dark sky. 

“Nature was cruel to pray this silly little trick on me. I spent two decades wondering ‘what is love’? I knew I didn’t need to love in life, you showed me that throughout my whole 18 years of living here. I didn’t need love to live,” Renjun started, clasping his hands together as he held the saddle of his suitcase harder.

“But I realise, I’ve always wanted to feel love. To feel love, to give love and be loved back. Y/n made me realise that when I started falling for her two years ago, and if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have come to this realisation either,” he chuckled in disbelief, looking around at the decorations of his room, realising how much he’s going to miss living here. “I want to go out and explore the world, I know you have been dreading at the possibility of this day coming, but it has, Wendy.”

“Renjun, no. If you leave, this might as well be the last breath you’ll take! You have never travelled outside of town before, how are you going to survive travelling all across Europe for some measly girl? I won’t allow it, I can’t allow it,” Wendy shook her head, her eyes wide with panic as she watched Renjun walk backwards to the open window behind him. “I know you won’t allow it. But it’s time to let me go,” Renjun smiled sadly.

“Thank you for the 18 years you have spent trying to keep me alive. But the past two years felt meaningless to me without her presence, it felt aimless. I was honestly thinking about taking my own life at some point,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “But now, I realise I rather risk my life for love than spend the rest of my days here with an empty, cold feeling in my heart,” he shot his guardian a genuine smile, the first genuine smile she has ever witnessed from the young boy. 

“Goodbye Wendy.”

“Huang Renjun!” 

Renjun fell back from the open window, causing Madam Wendy to let out a cry of his name, quickly running over to the window to see if her child was okay. She gasped when she saw that Renjun had landed on a mattress Joy and Yeri had set before hand, a loud joyous laughter eliciting from the younger boy’s lips, a sound Wendy has never heard from the boy from his eighteen years of living. He got up from the mattress, grabbing his suitcase quickly before shooting a boyish smile to his aunts. 

“I’ll send you a postcard, Madam Wendy!” he exclaimed as he began running down the hill. 

“Renjun, no! Come back! Oh god, please no! Yeri, Joy, what are you doing?! Stop the young lad before he-”

“You can’t blame me for falling hard in love, mother!”

-

“Now my dear boy, what a lovely contraption of a heart you got there!” a man exclaimed, adjusting his monocle as he squinted his eyes at Renjun’s mechanical heart. “Oh, why, thank you,” he smiled politely, bowing at the older man as he gripped his canvas in hand. “Where are you off to? You seem quite young to be travelling all by yourself,” the man asked in an attempt to make small talk.

That night, Renjun had run off to catch the nearest train to Paris, he planned to take a trip from there to Andalusia. It was a 7 hour ride but he was willing to do anything at this point to get out of Edinburgh. When he finally arrived in Paris, he stumbled upon this man while waiting for his next train. “Oh pardon me, where are my manners! I’m Kim Doyoung,” he outstretched his hand for Renjun to shake with a toothy smile spread on his lips. 

“Huang Renjun,” he introduced with a sheepish smile. “Ah, So, Renjun, where are you going, my dear boy? You seem a little bit too young to travel,” Doyoung took off his monocle, wiping it against his tie before putting it back on. “I-I’m trying to get a replacement for my heart,” Renjun said, poking his little clock with the tip of his finger, grimacing at the small ticking sound it was making at the small touch. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. 

He had planned to get a replacement for his heart for so long, he figured that maybe if he changed into a new one, this wretched curse of forbidden love might be lifted. Maybe he didn’t have to part ways with Madam Wendy or Joy or Yeri. Maybe if he replaced his clock, he could live his life happily in love with you. Though, for now, it was just a small hope he held inside of him. All he could do now was find a clockmaker.

“I’m trying to find a clockmaker somewhere to replace my heart,” he spoke in a bold tone, looking down at his unfinished piece. He made it during his seven hour train ride while thinking of you just to pass the time, though, he was honestly considering giving it to you the moment you get to reunite with each other. “Do you happen to know one?” he asked, his eyes going wide with hopefulness.

Doyoung hummed in response, tugging on the tip of his tie. “Unfortunately, I’m not a clockmaker. But I do like tinkering in the mechanics direction! Maybe I could take a closer look at your heart to see if there’s anything I can do,” Doyoung suggested, pulling out a magnifying glass with a nod of his head. Renjun sucked his bottom lip nervously before taking out the key from his front pocket, plunging it into the mechanical heart and turning it to open the door of his heart. “Alright then.” “Oh! You say that this was grafted by the famous Madam Wendy from Edinburgh? She must be quite the genius to craft and piece this all for you with her bare hands to save your life,” he exclaimed, leaning closer to observe the small gears slowly turning with every small tick tocks his heart makes. “Though, I don’t know why you’d want to replace such a thing. Everything works just fine, clearly, she made this out of love. I could see it within every crevice of art she puts into this clock,” the older man clicked his heart, putting his magnifying glass back into his bag as Renjun closed his heart shut and pulled his key out of the clock.

“Love, huh? That’s the exact problem I have at the moment,” Renjun sighed heavily, tucking his key back into his front pocket before leaning back against his seat. “It’s very dangerous to me. At least that’s what Wendy said to me for the past eighteen years of my life,” he looked down at his shoes sadly, pressing his lips together in a tight line as he felt the guilt catching up to him at the thought of his caretaker’s efforts going in vain. 

“Tell me about it,” Doyoung grinned, putting his hand on his chin as a smug expression spread across his features. 

“You see, mister Kim-”

“Oh no! Call me Doyoung!” 

“Uhm- You see, mister Doyoung. There’s this singer I met in Edinburgh a long time ago and-” “Ah yes, I see. These things do happen quite often.” Renjun bit back his tongue when Doyoung interrupted him once again, but nonetheless he continued on with his story. “As time went on, we grew closer. And soon, I couldn’t help but feel as if my whole world was going through a life threatening earthquake. My head was spinning, I couldn’t breathe. The ticking tock of my clock sounded almost alarming as if it was going to stop at any given moment whenever I’m within her lovely presence,” he explained, making grand, dramatic gestures with his hands as he went on.

Doyoung chuckled, assuming that Renjun’s poetic explanations were purely symbolic. “And how did that feel, exactly, Renjun?” he asked, causing Renjun’s expression to soften. “Extraordinary,” he sighed, almost dreamily as he looked down at the postcard he was holding in his free hand that wasn’t holding his canvas. “There you go, my dear boy,” he chuckled in response, leaning back against the seat next to Renjun’s.

“I don’t know, Mister Doyoung. I fear Wendy might be right, though, what if love was just a trap and my ticking clock is just a bomb waiting to be triggered by it?” Renjun asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he kissed his teeth. “Renjun, if you fear of getting hurt, you will increase the chances of getting hurt,” Doyoung laid a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You should enjoy the thrill, the danger! That pumps through your veins at the thought of falling completely in love,” he exclaimed. 

“If you live your life worrying everything, you’ll get bored before you even die! Don’t you want to experience a life changing experience with this little lady you’ve been saughting after?” he asked, her tone encouraging Renjun’s spirit to get back up again. A smile stretched across Renjun’s face at the thought, he had flashbacks to the two years he spent without you. He couldn’t afford going back to the same depressing situation he got himself out of, and he’s definitely not willing to go back now that he’s almost there.

“If I can find her again. The last time I heard from her, she was in Andalusia,” he shrugged with a small laugh.

“I’d say,” Doyoung laughed. “When you’re eighteen and you’re travelling half across the continent for a girl, I’d say the rebellious genes in your DNA are highly developed,” he joked, retracting his hand from Renjun’s shoulders. “I bet I could make a whole film based on your cuckoo clock heart,” Doyoung whipped out an empty journal from his bag, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at his newfound friend. “Why not?” Renjun chuckled with a small shrug. 

“Young love, what a beautiful thing to see. You see, I never had any fond memories when it comes to being in love. All I do is invent and invent contraptions, and my former lover never appreciated my expertise. Life is far from easy when you’re in love, my young friend,” Doyoung sighed, leaning his arm against the seat with a heavy sigh. “Why don’t you come with me to Andalusia then, Mister Doyoung? I’m sure anything’s possible there and I wouldn’t mind having a bit of a company on my way there,” Renjun offered, the thought of making a new friend giving some light into his dark path.

“You want an unprofessional mechanic with constant near mental breakdowns following you in your journey to find love?” Doyoung’s eyes went wide in shock, a smile that mirrored Renjun’s appearing on his face. “I would love to have an unprofessional mechanic with constant near mental breakdowns in my quest!” Renjun laughed, nodding eagerly as he sat up straight to shake Doyoung’s hand to make a deal.

Renjun had  made another friend.

-

When they finally arrived in Andalusia, they stumbled upon a small amusement park where you were rumored to be staying in at the moment. “Well, first impressions?” Doyoung asked, looking around the ominous park filled with performers and eccentric workers setting up their tents. “It’s.. quite different than Edinburgh, I must admit,” Renjun chuckled, pulling on his suitcase eagerly as he scanned his eyes around in hopes that he might see your figure at the corner of his eye.

The park, unlike his old town, was way more colourful than Edinburgh. There were animals in colourful cages, happily interacting with their inmates. There were jesters and mimes practicing for their acts in the middle of the streets, happily entertaining a few visitors. There were food stands everywhere, Renjun swore you could exit this park penniless under five minutes if you really wanted to. 

“Come one, come all! For tonight we have special acts starting from 5 pm to-” 

He walked past whom he assumed was the announcer of the park, who was enthusiastically using a tricycle to spread his message all over the place. And upon walking around he stumbled upon what seems to be a horror attraction in the shape of a train, the owner standing inside of a coffin as she smoked her cigarette, eyeing Renjun suspiciously. “Looking for something, you little runt? A job, perhaps? Cause, I’m looking for a new employee to hire,” she asked, taking a puff of her cigarette in between her sentences. 

Renjun took his words back about Madam Wendy resembling Ms Havisham. Because at that given moment, he felt like Pip when he was first introduced to Ms Havisham in the book, clueless as to what he wanted with her. Renjun shook his head, no, mustering up the courage to give the older woman a polite smile. “I’m looking for a little singer?” he answered with an innocent smile. 

“A little singer? Here? The chances of that is equivalent to finding a snowflake in hell,” she rolled her eyes, taking another puff from her cigarette and blowing smoke into Renjun’s face. He coughed, taking a step back in alarm but he bit his tongue to snap back at the woman’s rude actions. “Listen, I’m just trying to find a little singer who sings like a lovely bird in the break of daw-” 

“Enough jabbering about her! Do you want the job or not?” she sighed exasperatedly. 

As Renjun was about to give the woman a piece of his mind for being so rude, the announcer cycling around him caught his attention with his words. “Ladies and Gentlemen, up next in our line of performers will be the young singing sensation, Miss Y/n! A lady who has travelled far and wide with her infamous street singing career,” the announcer said with a booming voice as he cycled to another part of the park.

“Miss Y/n?” he whispered with a soft gasp. “Well? Do you want the job or not?” the woman asked with a raised brow. He frowned involuntarily at the woman’s abrupt tone, clicking his tongue before running back to wherever Doyoung was. “I’ll think about it!” he exclaimed loudly before sprinting off, calling out his colleague’s name with a bright smile on his face. 

“I found her!”

-

“It is her!” he gasped, watching as you slowly come out of your little private trailer, music piercing his ears and your voice making its way into his heart like a knife throwing attraction. It hit right at the target perfectly. “It’s her, I can’t believe it,” Renjun could feel his breath being taken away. You had grown to be a beautiful woman, your features changed slightly due to the years but nonetheless, it didn’t do anything to stop Renjun’s heart from swelling up with adoration like a balloon being filled with helium. 

“Go into her trailer, no one’s going to notice you. Talk to her after her performance,” Doyoung encouraged with a slightly hushed tone. “Excuse me?” Renjun’s eyes shot wide at the unexpected encouragement, his eyes wandering to the trailer you came out of. “I can’t do that! That’s a lady’s privacy!” he exclaimed, shaking his head aggressively. “Trust me, it’ll go smoothly! Just believe in yourself and try not to let the conversation die,” Doyoung hissed, nudging on the younger boy’s shoulder.

Renjun got up slowly, gulping down his fear as he quickly got into your trailer, eyes wide at his own stupidity. ‘God, why did I decide to do this? This is very uncouth of me to do so,’ he thought to himself, wincing slightly when he realised that the music had died down. A bouquet of daisies were in his hand, he didn’t know what to do at that moment as he observed your trailer. It wasn’t very far from you. It was decorated according to your liking.

Your favorite colour was splashed all over the walls, a mannequin standing idly beside the entrance, your dressing table with a gigantic mirror showing his nervous presence. He froze for a brief moment at the sound of your enchanting humming and your little footsteps coming closer to the trailer, making him stand behind the mannequin on pure instinct as you walked into the trailer with a skip in your step.

You were humming the same song you sang on the day you first met. Muttering the lyrics under your breath as you removed bits of dust from your clothing from the performance. Looking up at the mirror, you gasped at Renjun’s awkward figure standing behind your mannequin. You stood up abruptly, grabbing a perfume on your desk and raised it up threateningly at him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” you exclaimed in alarm. You couldn’t see his face very clearly considering you weren’t wearing your glasses.

“I’m sorry! I was tying my shoelaces when I fell into your floor,” Renjun shook his head, waving his hands around nervously to give off the message that he wasn’t some weird creep or stalker snooping around your belongings. “Do you always fall into a girl’s quarters when she’s changing?” you snapped, lowering your perfume hesitantly as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the boy. “NO! No! I would never, I swear! I don’t even know why I’m-”

“You look suspiciously familiar as if I recognise you from somewhere,” you mumbled under your breath, squinting your eyes at him. “You recognise me?” Renjun perked up, a smile stretching across his face as he took a step away from the mannequin towards you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes before turning to the mirror to adjust your appearance. “What do you want anyway?” you sighed, as if you were used to this sort of encounter.

“I’d like to give you a bouquet of daisies,” Renjun bit his lip, pulling the bouquet behind him and leaning it towards your direction. “Daisies? I can’t say they’re my favorite flowers,” you chuckled, looking up at him with a more relaxed expression. “I have no idea why, but peculiarly, daisies always reminds me of my glasses,” you confessed, putting the bouquet on your desk and standing up towards the exit. “I stopped wearing them a long, long time ago. They make me look like some weird bug,” you joked, looking back at Renjun, who chuckled at your words.

‘You really haven’t changed, huh?’

“It’s fine by me,” Renjun chuckled, walking closer towards you in comforting silence. The way your eyes made contact with his softly made his stomach do somersaults, the gears of his heart felt like it was powered by a burst of energy. “Could we see each other again?” he asked hesitantly, “I’d like to get to know you even more,” he added, snucking his hands in his pockets. “Perhaps,” you shrugged, giving him a smile that mirrored his own. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

“Oh, no! I’m not, I’m the-I work at the ghost train,” Renjun lied through his teeth, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh, you’re the new scarer? That’s wonderful news to hear,” you exclaimed, clapping your hands to congratulate him on his new job. “Yes, of course! Exactly, I’m the new scarer,” he nodded, a little bit too eagerly if you asked him. “Can I come see you in action?” you laughed lightly, observing how fidgety the boy in front of you is as he stepped out of your trailer.

“Of course!”

“Tomorrow? Around four?” 

“I’ll see you then.”

-

As the weeks went by, the love between you and Renjun blossomed like a rose. You bonded over your love for art and music in general, rekindling the friendship you used to have. But unfortunately for Renjun, you didn’t recognise him, not a single bit. It was against his beliefs to hit a woman, for that was very impolite of a man, but whenever you mumble how you couldn’t put your finger on how you recognize him from somewhere then proceeds to drop the conversation, he couldn’t lie. He wanted to smack you upside the head for your oblivious self. 

‘Oblivious, rather ludicrous and as blind as a bat. Why did I fancy her, again?’ he would always ponder to himself on a daily basis before watching you run around to try the newest food from each of the food stalls with a bright smile on your face. ‘Oh, right, that’s why,’ he sighed heavily before going over to you with his hands clasped behind his back, mentally preparing himself to fall head over heels for you over and over again.

Today, he was giving you a tour of the ghost train. (yes, he took up the offer with a roll of his eyes just so he can stay here and spent more time with you) “You’re doing a wonderful job here, by the way. It looked like people are having a lot of fun riding the ghost train with your assistance,” you complimented, giving Renjun a soft smile as you walk along the dark train tracks.

“Why thank you, my boss can’t say the same, however,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the thought of his boss being ashamed of him for ruining her quote unquote reputation. “Don’t mind her, she’s always been like that,” you waved it off with a small giggle, patting his shoulder. “Hmm,” he nodded, a pregnant pause settling between you two as you basked in each other’s company. “How did you like the glasses I gave you?” 

Everyday, Renjun would find the most ominous and peculiar looking glasses that were all twisted and broken to give to you, which always brought a smile upon your face knowing full well that you couldn’t wear them no matter how much you tried. “Awful, as usual,” you joked, clasping your hands behind your back as you skipped along the tracks, your shoes hitting the dark coal with a soft ‘tip tap’. “Wonderful,” he laughed lightly, shaking his head profusely at you.

“I still can’t shake over the feeling that I’ve been in this situation before, or maybe I dreamed of this moment before,” you blurted out, looking around the damp cave-like tunnel you were walking through. Renjun bit his lip sadly, suppressing the urge to tell you that he was the boy you met back in Edinburgh. Yet again, what if you left for a reason? What if you left because you didn’t want to see him again? He feared the worse as time went on. 

“I’m sure we’ve met before but I don’t know where,” you turned to him with a smile tugging at your lips. “Really,” Renjun looked down at his feet, kicking the coal as you both paused in your step and turned your bodies to look at each other in the eyes. You somehow found comfort in looking into Renjun’s eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint why they constantly gave you a sense of deja vu whenever you stare into them for too long. “What’s that odd pitter patter?” you mumbled, hearing a familiar tapping sound in the tunnel.

He bit back a smile, “it’s the rain.” 

He knew those words all too well. “Do you like the rain?” he asked, putting his hand behind his back as he adjusted the top hat on his head. “Getting wet? No,” you shook your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “But the sound it makes? Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically, making Renjun laugh at your slight eagerness. “And I’ve heard that noise before somewhere,” you whispered, loud enough for Renjun to hear. 

“That’s because it’s my heart,” he couldn’t help but blurted out, putting a hand on his little coat. “Pardon?” you furrowed your brows in confusion, watching him tug on his coat to reveal a miniscule cuckoo clock on his chest. “My heart, they made it for me on the day I was born. It’s a bit cold and a little fragile, but it works,” he sighed, watching as you observe the small contraption on his heart with a curious expression, pulling out the key from his pockets.

“You can open me up with this little key,” he grabbed your hand and placed the key in between your fingers, letting you push the key into his heart and turning it to the left before opening the door of his clock. “Fascinating, do you always let other girls walk into the train tracks with you and let them open your heart?” you chuckled, raising your brow at the boy in front of you, whose eyes widened in surprise as you pulled your hand away from his heart. 

“No, not really. In fact, you’re the first one,” Renjun shook his head with a sweet smile, closing the door shut and pulling out the key before placing it back into his pocket. “Oh, thanks,” your eyes widened slightly at his blunt expression, putting a hand on your arm shyly. “You’re welcome,” he chuckled, patting the key in his pocket. Renjun’s eyes wandered from your eyes to your soft lips, his heart racing against his chest at the thought of finally picking up where you had left off all those years. He didn’t even realise that he was leaning his head towards yours. 

“Wait- no,” you pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him away as you turned your head to the side with guilt glossing over your eyes. “Don’t,” you shook your head as you took a step back. “I really like you. There’s a warm fuzzy feeling growing in my tummy that’s making me pull towards you like a magnet, but,” you paused, looking down at your hands nervously as they lay limp on your sides. “My heart belongs to someone else,” you gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Someone I met a long, long time ago. You always reminded me of him. “I’m still waiting until the day we reunite once again, embarking on a romantic adventure with you would just be unfair,” you sighed heavily, rubbing your arms nervously as you slowly let Renjun down. A great pang of pain pierced through Renjun’s whole body at your words, he could almost feel his heart tear itself apart as he watched you walk away and out of the ghost tunnel. 

Away from him.

-

“Renjun! You’re back! So? How did it go?” Doyoung exclaimed, fixing his latest invention with a cough, dropping his tweezers in his bag as he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth. Doyoung had rented an empty building so that he could introduce his new inventions to the public and entertain them with them. “She loves someone else,” Renjun mumbled under his breath, tossing his top hat onto one of the seats they set up as he sat down on the steps of the small indoor stage Doyoung had built over the past few weeks.

“I travelled halfway across Europe for her for absolutely nothing,” Renjun laid his head on his palms, sighing heavily as he tried to keep himself from screaming in pain. His heart was hurting. It was way different than the pain he felt two years ago, it was a whole new level of emotional pain he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. “Did you at least confess your love for her?” Doyoung asked, taking a seat next to the boy as Renjun gripped his hair tightly in distress. 

“Why bother? Her heart’s filled to the brim, there’s no way I could empty it out like a sink,” Renjun pulled his head out of his hands, his elbows laying on his legs as he threw the golden key to his heart against the carpet floor out of frustration. “You can’t just let your efforts go to waste, Renjun. Did she at least recognise you?” Doyoung asked, leaning over to grab the key and place it back into his younger friend’s palm with a heavy sigh.

He shook his head, turning it to look at the older man who adjusted his monocle. “No, I’d prefer her not to remember who I am than to remember me and not love me in return,” Renjun leaned his cheek against his palm, eyes looking down sadly at his feet. “You can’t just give up like that, Renjun. Love is like a shooting star you’re supposed to seek after, a wish you must grant yourself with the fifty percent chance of getting the outcome you desire,” Doyoung encouraged, leaning back against his palms behind him. 

Renjun chuckled softly, a sad smile appearing on his lips. “I never felt so sad yet so happy at the same time,” he shook his head, pressing his knuckles to his temples hard. “Ah yes, two of the most powerful and impactful emotions of the human soul combined into one,” Doyoung mused, raising a brow at his lovesick friend. “If only she believed me about my heart, her expression tells me that she thinks it’s some kind of sick joke,” he scoffed, kicking the air with one foot as he let out a huff of exhaustion.

“Well, did she say who has captured her heart?” Doyoung asked, raising his brow, causing Renjun’s eyes to shoot up wide. 

The impact of Kim Doyoung’s words have never failed to get Renjun’s adrenaline rushing again through his veins as he walked into your trailer with a small push against your door. “Do I know him?” Renjun asked abruptly, wanting to get straight to the point as he was very eager to know who has captured your heart. “Could you stop barging into my trailer all the time?” you retorted, turning towards him as you put down your makeup brush on your desk. “The boy you’re in love with, do I know him?” Renjun repeated, the gears of his heart racing against his chest.

He doesn’t even know if he wants the answer to that question. “No,” you replied bluntly, adjusting the laces on your dress. “So you’re not in love with him anymore?” Renjun asked, raising his brow as he crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the door. “No, that’s not what I meant!” you huffed, feeling yourself getting frustrated the more he edged you on. “Look, it was a very, very long time ago when I first met him,” you rolled your eyes.

“It was back when my parents still made me move from city to city. Oh god, that city was practically made for him. The aura of the city radiated the same aura he had back when I first met him, cold and depressing. Nonetheless the more I got to know him, the more I realised that inside he was just a warm human being that needed someone to light up his perspective,” you sighed, clasping your hands together right in front of you. There was a loud ‘cuckoo!’ that pierced both of your ears, and suddenly, a small gear shot from Renjun’s heart and hit the wooden closet right beside you. 

“Would you stop playing with your clock? You could injure someone, it won’t hurt to take it off occasionally, will it?” you exclaimed with a gasp, looking up at him with bold eyes as you put your hands on your hips. “I can’t help it, it’s not some bloody toy! It’s my heart,” he snapped back, his hands balled up into fists as he felt his blood boiling in his veins at the sound of you talking so highly of someone else that wasn’t him. The way you talked about whoever this boy is was the same way he talked about you to everyone else. 

He took a deep breath to calm himself down when he saw your taken aback reaction, “I’m sorry.” You let out a deep sigh as you stood up from your desk, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the poor fellow. “Look, I would really appreciate it if we could become friends. How about we go down to the theater tomorrow? I heard Mister Doyoung made a new contraption to add to the cinematic universe,” you suggested, giving him a kind smile as you took his hand in yours to try and cheer him up a bit. 

“I’d really like to go together.” No matter how much his heart was telling him to rest for the rest of his life, no matter how much in pain he’s currently in, but the moment he looked into your eyes, he knew he couldn’t say no. 

-

“Would you care to share more information about your romeo?” Renjun asked, holding his wrist behind him as you two walked outside of the amusement park together after the show. “Oh, don’t call him that. I absolutely despise that specific work of Shakespeare’s,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you hopped over a pebble, grunting as you caught your balance. Renjun chuckled, “why so?” he asked, raising his brow at you. 

“The typical damsel in distress trope never failed to make my blood boil like a pot of water on high heat,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “I prefer to call him my Pip,” you giggled, climbing up a small hill before sitting on top of the grass and laying your head down with a content sigh. “Pip? Why Pip to be exact?” Renjun asked, raising his brow as he took a seat next to your lying figure, leaning back against his palms. “A couple years ago, right before I left. We had this small debate on happy endings and shakespearean works,” you started, gazing up at the starry night sky. 

“I would constantly babble on and on about how women shouldn’t be the damsel in distress, then one day he whipped out this book out of nowhere like some sort of magician! It was called the Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, I finally finished when I left the city so I never got around to returning the book he let me borrowed,” you sighed, placing your hands on your tummy as you giggled at the thought of your first love possibly getting mad at you for leaving without a goodbye with the addition of not returning his book back. 

Renjun’s heart raced at your small story, his body froze as his ears grew a slight tint of pink (which wasn’t very visible, thanks to the dim lighting of the moon shining down upon the two of you) when he realised that you were talking about him. You were talking about him all along. “I realised why he let me borrow the book though, I asked for an unhappy ending without the female protagonist being the damsel in distress. It was a beautiful story, really,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you thought back to the times you shared back in Edinburgh.

“He would always listen to my rambles as he painted some random landscape in town, showing me his talents as well as listening to my words as I ranted about the foolish decisions of the characters. He reminds me of Pip a little bit. A bit childish, a bit foolish, a little bit misunderstood,” you went on, before pausing briefly, eyes opening to look up at your new friend. “Should I stop? I don’t want to bore you with my story, I tend to ramble a lot unintentionally,” you asked, receiving an aggressive shake of Renjun’s head. 

“No! No! Keep going, I’m getting very interested in your story, do continue,” he laughed lightly, looking down at his clock, biting back his lip to keep himself from jumping for joy. “The last day I saw him- oh god, I remember it every night before I go to bed. I never had my glasses on around him, so my memory of his physical appearance is rather blurry. But I remembered it like it was yesterday. Sure, I might not recognize him today with my own eyes but I remembered we almost shared a kiss,” a wide smile stretched across your face as a warm feeling bubbled up inside of you at the vivid memory. 

“Yeah?” Renjun couldn’t help but let a wide smile spread across his own lips at the thought, turning his head to the side to suppress the urge to tackle you in a strong embrace. You remembered. “He offered to be my eyes, he offered to keep me from straying down the wrong path. I never got a chance to say yes,” you giggled, rubbing your palms against your eyes as you felt a giddy feeling inside both of your chests. “Guess he was too eager to kiss you before you could say yes?” Renjun joked, grimacing at his own childishness. 

You chuckled, shrugging simply. “I guess so, I didn’t mind though. It felt exhilarating. I didn’t know how it happened but he also tore a little bit of my dress as well,” you shook your head, looking back up at the stars scattered across the sky. Oh how Renjun was using all the strength vested inside of him to keep his heart from going ‘cuckoo!’ right in front of you right now. “He might not remember me, I sent him a postcard a couple weeks ago. I never received one back. But someday, when we reunite, I’d like to thank him for the lovely book and for teaching me what love feels like.”

“Everytime I’m near his company I would always feel so safe. So happy, so loved. Genuinely happy and genuinely loved,” you sighed, closing your eyes once again as you took in the fresh air. “I’m sure he felt the same,” Renjun felt his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling. “Hey, can we see each other again?” he spoke after a moment of comforting silence. “Alright, when?” you opened your eyes, squinting your eyes suspiciously at him. “Noon? At the theater, I have something to tell you,” he grinned. 

“Alright then, is something wrong? Why the funny face?” you chuckled, sitting up from your laying position, cocking your head to the side as you raised your eyebrow at him. “Nothing, I’m just really excited to show you this,” he shook his head, he couldn’t hide his big smile from you any longer. 

Just like how he couldn’t hide his longing and love for you that he has been harboring for the past two years. 

“She’s in love with me,” he said to Doyoung, who gave him a proud grin in return. “Congratulations, my dear boy! You tamed the spark in your heart,” he gave Renjun a pat on the back, who smiled sadly in response. “But there’s a problem. She’s in love with the other me, the one back in Edinburgh,” he sighed, sitting down on one of the seats in the theater. “I don’t see why this is a problem. The ‘you’ back in Edinburgh is still the same ‘you’ now!” Doyoung furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“I assume so, but what am I supposed to say to her?” Renjun ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Tell her how you feel! ‘It’s me! Renjun! The boy you loved oh-so-dearly for all these years! Your first love from Edinburgh, I have travelled far and wide all over Europe to find you, my love. So now let me take your hand and let’s venture and sail for the skies! In each other’s loving embrace!’” Doyoung boomed, throwing his hand in the air to make grand gestures as he spoke, standing up in the midst of his words. 

“Quite poetic, but I tried. The words are jammed at the back of my throat and I can’t let them out,” Renjun huffed, internally cursing at himself for holding himself back because of a small guilt lingering in his chest. “You’re still afraid of what might become of your heart once you fall completely, aren’t you?” Doyoung sympathized, putting a hand on his hip as he frowned upon his young friend’s unfortunate condition. “A part of me is still guilty for putting all of Madam Wendy’s efforts in vain,” Renjun laughed bitterly. 

“I thought you wanted to love and to be loved back, you mustn’t be afraid!” Doyoung encouraged, using the same tone he used previously to influence all of Renjun’s previous actions with a wide toothy smile. “You’re eighteen, you deserve the love you’ve been longing for, Renjun.” 

Renjun bit back a smile, shaking his head out of his insecurities as he stood up to his feet. “You’re right, I should’ve just told her who I was at the start. You have to help me come up with something.”

-

“Renjun? Are you here?” You called out, entering the theater bashfully. “Right here, Ms!” Naeun, Doyoung’s new friend, coaxed, waving her hand to tell you to sit on the front row, right in front of the stage. A familiar merry tune played in the background as the curtains were pulled back to reveal two puppets of what appeared to be you and a familiar little boy from Edinburgh. Doyoung came into view, clearing his throat as Naeun strummed the chords of the song you sang on the day you met your first love with a ukulele in her hand. 

“It was a lovely day in Edinburgh,” Doyoung began, looking towards the puppets. “Little miss y/n who was sixteen years old was dancing around in her dainty shoes, getting her feet all in a tangle before tumbling down to the floor due to her own clumsiness,” Renjun added with a small nervous laugh, moving his own little puppet around and towards the mini puppet version of yourself. “On the day they first met, she would ask ‘what’s that odd pitter patter?’ ‘What’s making that noise?’” Naeun hummed melodiously, causing your eyes to widen with every single word that comes out of their mouths. 

“It’s just the rain, do you like the rain?” Renjun asked, shooting you a short glance as if to say ‘sounds familiar?’

You furrowed your brows, lips pressed into a thin line as you silently watched the performance in front of you, taking every single last bit of information they were sharing into your head as took in the meaning of their words. “Miss Y/n adored the sound of the rain, but however, all this time she didn’t realise that the sound she came to adore came from the tick tock of Renjun’s mechanical heart,” Doyoung recited, looking down on his little card before sharing a knowing look with Renjun and Naeun upon seeing the flabbergasted expression etched on your face.

“Oh, how if he had told her where that pitter patter had come from, would she recognize him the instant they reunite? Would Renjun have to suffer the pain of travelling half across Europe to see her only to not be recognized for the little lady could not rely on her own eyes?” he added on, adding a bit of suspense as the settings on the puppet show changed slightly to the two of you sitting on top of a crescent moon side by side, sending you flashbacks to the last day you saw your first love. 

“Perhaps, if he had told her, would she have believed him and sampled the magical intimacy of blending dream and reality?” 

Soon, your eyes got glossy with tears. Your heart racing rapidly against your chest as you sat there in complete silence, the new information overwhelming your sentences as you watched the two puppets kissed on the crescent moon, the exact same way you were supposed to kiss two years ago. You sniffled, putting a hand up against one of your eyes to keep your tears from falling as Renjun walked up towards you and off of the stage with his hands behind his back. 

The curtains closed as he gave you a boyish smile, outstretching his hand to show you the piece of fabric he accidentally tore from your dress and the postcard you had sent out almost a month ago. You gasped, delicate fingers gently grabbing the postcard to inspect it. It was indeed the postcard you had sent, it was indeed your handwriting, it was indeed the same filthy postcard you sent a month ago. 

Within a few seconds, you fell unconscious as all this information was too much for you to handle. 

“Oh bloody hell, we killed her!” Renjun cried out in panic, taking a step back in alarm at your sudden concussion. Doyoung and Naeun’s head shot from in between the curtains, hissing at him to not panic and carry you back to your trailer. He sucked his bottom lip as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around your knees and your back, making you lean against his chest, your head so close to his. He gulped as he walked out of the theater, nervously praying to whatever God up there is watching him to not make him drop you in the middle of the streets. 

But fortunately for him, he managed to carry you back to your bed safe and sound. Laying your head on the pillow, he stood idly on the side of your bed, watching your sleeping features. You looked so content, his fingers itched to run themselves around your hair and to caress your cheeks. Oh how he longed to nuzzle his nose against yours lovingly and how he longed to press his lips against yours-

‘A single kiss. A brush against your lips could be your last! Just like that, bang!’

He grunted as his body twitched as his guardian’s words flashed through his mind like lightning and thunder, Madam Wendy’s sorrowful expression couldn’t help but make its way through his mind, causing his body to twitch once again. He took deep, staggering breaths as he palmed his heart in pain, eyes moving over to your sleeping figure before Madam Wendy appeared once again in his vision. 

‘Do you know why I saved your life?’

“If you really are the boy from my time in Edinburgh, why did you wait all this time?” 

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, his eyes wandered to your figure as you stared down at the piece of fabric. “What can I say? You’re an idiot, I feared you won’t recognize me considering you’ve never actually used your glasses during our small encounters,” Renjun chuckled sadly, sitting on your bed as you sat up and leaned on the headboard. “You didn’t even say goodbye, I thought you left because you were in shock of my sudden concussion on that day,” he said half-jokingly, putting a hand behind his neck.

You gave him a sad smile, caressing the postcard with your thumb. “My parents were tricked that day. They trusted the wrong person and the police got a hold of them, my mother left me outside all alone so the police wouldn’t find me and take me away too,” you explained, pulling your knees to your chest as you leaned your chin on your arms. “I remembered being so alone, so cold. That’s why I decided to flee Edinburgh, we weren’t allowed to stay for too long. Our neighbour told us they were going to get us permits but the next day… unfortunately that happened.”

Renjun’s heart ached for you, he never wanted to see you sad. Even though you weren’t supposed to be in Edinburgh in the first place, he felt slightly selfish for it. If it weren’t for the fact that your parents had moved her, maybe your parents would still be by your side to this day. However you can’t change what’s been done, the past is the past. He couldn’t do anything to make the pain of losing a parent go away that easily. 

He placed a hand on yours, rubbing his thumb soothingly against your knuckles in a silent attempt to comfort you. You smiled at him, scooting closer to Renjun without hesitation. “I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t know,” Renjun spoke briefly, letting your fingers intertwine with his own tightly. He reached over to his pocket, pulling out the key to his heart and tugged your intertwined fingers together. “I can’t make the pain of losing your loved ones go away like a magician could, but the only thing I can assure you is that I’m not going anywhere and this key is the living proof of it.” 

He laid the small golden key in your palm, tucking your fingers against it. “This is the key that winds me up, without it, I would be knocked out for good,” he chuckled, gazing his eyes deeply into yours. “You can wind me up, open up my heart, do whatever you want,” he shrugged, watching you scoot closer to him and mirrored the same actions as the ones he showed you on the Ghost Train. “If it hurts, don’t hesitate to tell me,” you informed him, turning the key to the right slowly. 

“It doesn’t usually hurt,” he laughed lightly, eyes filled with love and adoration. He felt his heart spark up with the same comforting flame you manage to set. He found comfort in the love of his life gently caressing his fragile heart as if it was made out of the rarest jewels in existence. 

He found comfort in you. You really are the key to his heart. 

“There you are, you little brat!” the owner of the ghost train spat, entering the trailer quite rudely. “You there, what are you doing holding back my employee? As if he doesn’t slack off enough on the job,” she sighed exasperatedly, taking out another cig from her pocket before lighting it up. “You have ten minutes to get there, it’s almost starting,” she hissed, her tone filled with anger and malice as she made her way out of the trailer with a huff of breath.

You and Renjun shared knowing looks, giggling softly as you pulled the key out of his heart. “I think we should get going,” you said in an almost hushed tone as if you were to make a louder sound, you would break the comforting silence between the two of you. You outstretched your hand to give him back his key but Renjun shook his head at you, chuckling softly as he gently curled your fingers against the key in your palms and gently pushed your hand back towards you. 

“Keep it, I insist,” he shook his head. “What? No, don’t be silly! It’s the key to your heart, Renjun. It’s yours, I can’t keep it,” you shook your head receiving the same chuckle from the boy in front of you. “No, from now on, it’s yours,” he grabbed your free hand in his, intertwining your fingers once again. “Let’s run away together,” he suggested, squeezing your hand in his as he crossed his legs together. 

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened at his words. “After your show, run away with me and let’s make the world our oyster,” he gave you the widest grin he could muster, his cheeks was starting to hurt from smiling too much and for too long. He didn’t know where the sudden suggestion came from his mind but he wanted to do what he’s always dreamt of doing with you, to sail for the skies hand in hand with you by his side. (And maybe live a content life in a cottage with three cats and a whole art studio, but that can wait. After all, he’s waited this long to finally reunite with you)

“This is going to sound very cliche but where would we even go?” you giggled, finding his eagerness quite adorable considering it was a rare sight to see, even back when you were still in Edinburgh. “I don’t know, anywhere! The seas, the trees, as long as I’m with you I’m willing to make do with anywhere. As long as you say yes,” he squeezed your hand encouragingly against his, loving eyes pleading for you to say yes. And the smile you gave him was enough to give him his answer.

-

Renjun ran all over the amusement park with his suitcase in hand, the sound of your voice booming through the speakers as he felt the adrenaline rush through his veins, happiness surging through every part of his body. He was finally living, he was no longer going to live in the same, miserable hollow shell he had been living his whole entire life. A bright smile spread across his face as he entered the theater, panting heavily.

“Well then?” Doyoung pipped up, putting his hands at his hips as Renjun gained his composure as though Renjun’s wide smile hadn’t given him the answer he was hoping for. “She loves me, the real me,” he sighed exasperatedly, putting his hands on his chest as he could hardly believe it himself. “Congratulations, my dear boy! I’m delighted for you, absolutely delighted,” he gave Renjun a hug and patted his back as if he was his own younger brother. 

“We’re going to run away for the hills together after her show, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’m sure I wouldn’t have done this without your help,” Renjun beamed, pulling away to shake his old friend’s hand enthusiastically, his mechanical heart racing rapidly against his chest at the thought of eloping with you all over Europe. “I’m going to miss you, Renjun. Do write to me from time to time,” he gave him a nod, a proud smile etched on his face, causing Renjun to chuckle and nod. “Of course.”

As Renjun was in the middle of packing, your show had finally ended. You snuck back in your trailer to pack your own clothes, but then you saw none other than one of your fellow performers, Choi San, sitting on your desk with a small piece of paper in hand. “San? What on earth are you doing here?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took out your suitcases from your closet. “I heard you’re going to run off with that new boy,” he grinned, chuckling slightly as he smacked the paper against your desk. “Renjun? Oh! Turns out, he was the boy I fell in love with back in Edinburgh,” you giggled, shoving random clothes into your suitcase, your makeup bags, your shoes, anything you could possibly fit into one single bag. 

“I need to tell you something before you get into serious trouble,” San informed, giving you a hard expression before hopping off your desk to hand you the piece of paper. “I was doing my daily letter checking at the post office and I found this in the mail, it was from Renjun’s guardian from Edinburgh,” he sighed, crossing his arms as you opened the piece of paper to reveal a fancy handwriting underneath. “It tells you everything you need to know about Renjun.” 

You squinted, pulling your glasses from your purse and putting them on. “What are you going on about here, San?” you furrowed your brows as you read through the letter. It was indeed from the ‘Madam Wendy’ Renjun would always rant to you about during your days together back in Edinburgh. “That thing he calls a heart, it’s not what you think it is. It’s a grenade, a ticking time bomb waiting to be triggered, he’s dangerous, y/n,” San informed, his hard expression turning into worry.

“I'm just glad I came here before it was too late,” he sighed in relief, looking down at his feet. “No, San, you must be mistaken. Renjun wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s absolutely harmless!” You shook your head, refusing to believe his words as you looked down at the letter. “For now, but until he loses control of his heart and therefore fails to abide by the three rules Wendy had given him on the day he was born,” San informed, his eyes narrowing at the letter. 

“The three rules?” you furrowed your brows at him, watching as San’s expression grew dim with sympathy. “Everything you need to know is in that letter, I’ll give you some time to yourself,” San patted your back with a comforting smile before exiting the trailer, leaving you with the letter and your own thoughts. 

-

“Are you trying to make me a murderer?!” you exclaimed, exiting your trailer with your fists clenched up tightly by your side. “Excuse me?” Renjun furrowed his brows in confusion, being taken aback as he took a step towards you with his suitcase in hand. “What are you even talking about?” he asked, letting the air sink back into his lungs from all the running he had to do all over the amusement park. “Madam Wendy told me everything in this letter,” you shoved the letter against his chest, watching as shock took over his features.

“Wendy sent a letter?” he gaped, his jaw dropping to the floor as he inspected what seems to be his caretaker’s handwritten letter. “She told me about the three rules, how you ran away against her wishes, everything! Were you not going to tell me these important details?” you hopped off of the first few steps of your trailer to come closer to the boy you love deeply in front of you. “Or did you forget to tell me something as serious as that?” you snapped, sadness and betrayal flossing over your eyes.

Renjun felt his heart sink into his stomach at your hurtful expression, he was so caught up in the fantasy of running away with you, he completely forgot about his fragile condition for a brief moment. “Who even are you, Renjun? I want to know who’s the man I’m falling in love with,” you gripped the hem of your dress to keep yourself from screaming at him out of pure frustration and anger, feeling your heart ready to explode at the fact that you had the potential to kill him if your relationship proceeded from this far on. 

“I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if you died,” you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat, looking down to hide your glossy eyes as you tried your best not to think of what would happen to him if you hadn’t received that letter. 

Renjun froze in place, his eyes turning glossy with his own tears as he watched you speak, the words jammed at the back of his throat as he knew, deep down, there was nothing he could do to change your mind. It was far too late, he can’t do anything to change your mind anymore. “I refuse to love you, I refuse to be a murderer. That’s not my idea of love,” you shook your head at him, putting the back of your hand against your eyelids to wipe away the tears. Every word that came out of your mouth felt like a dagger into his mechanical heart. It hurt. Renjun was hurting. His heart was breaking right in front of you, and you both knew it. 

“It’s selfish,” you couldn’t help but splutter out. “No, wait. You got it all wrong, y/n,” he finally spoke up, frustration filling his veins as he found the courage to speak up. “Oh, so you didn’t escape your guardian’s home without permission, thus causing her to worry about you for the past few weeks with no information whatsoever?” you snapped, putting your hands on your hips after you wiped your tears away. “Yes, but that isn’t the problem here!” he shook his head, taking a step towards you as he groaned in frustration. 

“There you go! Oh, so now you’re going to disobey another rule and lose your temper?” 

“It’s not like that! Just listen to me-” Renjun reached his hand out to your face before his body started twitching in pain, causing him to drop on his knees as gears and screws popped out of his heart. You gasped, watching as your lover writhe in pain on his knees, letting out pained grunts for the next fifteen seconds right in front of you. Thus, giving you a brief image of what was going to happen if you continued on. 

“You’re scaring me, Renjun.” 

“I’m sorry.” he breathed out, putting his hand on his knees as he ignored the steaming state of his cuckoo clock heart. Your eyes softened at his guilty figure, your hands laying limp by your sides as you let out a sad sigh. “Goodbye, Renjun.” Were your last words before you walked away from him, leaving him to deal with his own pain. 

“I did the craziest things for you. My life isn’t always topsy turvy when it comes to love, but I put my life in your hands because I truly love you,” Renjun confessed, causing you to pause in your step. You inhaled deeply, not giving him a spare glance. “Yes, I agree, your actions are inhumane at this point, but count me out, Renjun,” you hissed back, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep yourself from shaking and breaking down right in front of him. “I’d prefer you to be hurt like this than dead, I can’t live with myself if I was the reason for your passing,” you sighed, looking down at your shoes briefly.

“Please just leave me alone. I’m not running away with you.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, ignoring the sound of a distraught Renjun getting to his knees, holding his heart in pain. His eyes scrunched up in pain as he let out small grunts, trying to get to his feet back to make his way back to the theater. He collapsed back to the concrete ground as soon as he got to his feet, the ear piercing sound of his clock falling apart before him lingered in his mind as cogs and screws popped out of his makeshift heart. He wanted to scream out your name and plead for you to come back into his embrace, but he knew you wouldn’t turn back. 

So he did the only thing that came into his mind in order to stop this unbearable pain. He got up to his feet, putting two hands on his clock and pulled hard, ignoring the physical pain it brought him as he tried to rip out his own heart from his chest. Letting out a scream of pain as he collapsed to the floor, pieces of wood and metal scattering across the floor and drops of blood dripping from the doors of his heart. 

“Renjun!”

Doyoung and Naeun came up to Renjun as quickly as they could, holding him up as he coughed heavily. “I want to change into a new clock, I’m so tired of this one constantly falling into bits every time I feel the slightest bit of joy,” he mumbled almost monotonously, letting out another fit of coughs afterward. “Madam Wendy was right,” he added with a light painful laugh. “I suppose I have some spare parts to help you fix your clock from my camera, I’ll go get them-” Doyoung insisted but Renjun gripped on the older man’s wrist urgently. 

“No, I want a new heart. I’m tired of this one. One that works. I’ll never fall in love again,” he leaned over, cupping his mouth as he coughed once again, feeling more gears pop out of his clock like a confetti from a canon. “You’re running out of time, Renjun, you must seek help immediately. Is there anything you can do to salvage what’s left of your heart until you get back to Edinburgh?” Doyoung asked, furrowing his brows. “I can’t, I gave the key to Y/n. She left me, I can’t get it back anymore,” Renjun shook his head sadly, looking down at his own blood staining his fingertips.

“That key is your life, Renjun! You took a huge risk,” Doyoung shook his head at how deeply in love the boy in front of him was. “I know,” he mumbled, his words becoming more breathy by the moment. “You must return to Edinburgh and have Wendy patch you up again, it’s the only way to save your life,” Doyoung slung an arm around his shoulder, lifting him up as Naeun helped with carrying his suitcase. 

Doyoung led a heartbroken Renjun onto a carriage to the nearest train station. He insisted on coming with the young lad but Renjun wanted to face the consequences of his actions alone, he couldn’t bear to rip his friend away from the path of success he was walking into. So, with a heavy heart, Renjun rode the train back to Edinburgh with his eyes closed and his heart hurting like hell against his chest. 

‘This must be the same feeling Pip went through when Estella finally broke his heart to elope with some other man she didn’t love.’ he thought bitterly to himself.

-

“Madam Wendy what?” your jaw dropped as San shared a new bit of information. 

He leaned over, showing you the newspaper he was reading which informed you that Madam Wendy had passed in her prison cell. Apparently, she was caught for tampering with mechanics on a dangerous level with her other patients and was thrown in jail once again, but the disappearance of her adopted child had a great impact on her health, therefore she left her body in the cell she was staying in. 

“Oh, no. Oh dear god, no,” you hopped out of San’s performance tent, patting your pockets and pulling out the key that belongs to Renjun’s heart. “What’s wrong?” San asked, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth as he stood up as well, worried as his brows furrowed in confusion. “Renjun gave me the key to his heart, I forgot to give it back,” you yelled back, running as quick as you could to the theater, the only place where Renjun could be at the moment. 

You knocked as hard as you could, calling out the boy’s name in a panic. “Miss Y/n? What are you doing here?” Doyoung asked, opening the door as he rubbed his eyes from the lack of sleep. “Can you tell me where I can find Renjun? I still have the key to his heart,” you asked in an abrupt tone, showing the older man the key in your palms. “Nothing to worry about, Miss! He’s on his way back to Edinburgh as we speak, Doctor Wendy can patch him up in a jiffy!” Doyoung smiled. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of, oh god, no. But Madam Wendy’s passed away,” you informed, clenching your fists with the key in your hand. Doyoung’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning pale at your words. “Oh boy, that isn’t good news. Go after him, hurry! Save Renjun before it’s too late, that’s what he wants more than anything. I put him on a carriage to the nearest train station. If you’re lucky, you might catch him on the train before it departs,” Doyoung rummaged through his bag, pulling out a random journal. 

“Here, take this. In case you don’t catch up to him, here’s something to read on the way. It’s a journal I kept ever since the very day I met Renjun,” he handed you the journal as Naeun called another carriage for you to ride to the train station. You sighed, your head filled with worry as you looked up at the two adults willing to help you save Renjun despite the fact that you were the main reason why he was in this mess in the first place. 

“Thank you.”

-

Renjun laid in the snow, near the house where he used to call home. Sniffling as he leaned against the tree at the bottom of the hill. Joy and Yeri had contacted him and brought him the news of his caretaker’s passing. Sulking as guilt took over his body, regretting every single decision he had made the past few months. And now he’s going to suffer the consequences of dying all alone. He couldn’t walk into his own home after the news, choosing to lay down under the snow to let himself slowly freeze to death and possibly hypothermia. 

So now, he was taking his last few breaths, enjoying the bright sky as he watched his skin froze, tears slowly turning into eyes as he laid there all heartbroken and damaged. His hair was white from the snowfall, with bits of brown peaking out in between as he sniffled and sobbed over the loss of his mother. Taking deep breaths to regain his composure, as his skin grew numb against the cold. 

“Renjun! I’m here!” 

It was as if the God above had decided to send an angel back to help him, he slowly looked up with half lidded eyes, a small shaky smile spreading across his lips as you fell to your knees to help him. “Renjun, oh dear god, no,” you whimpered, leaning close as you laid a hand on his jaw, making him lean his head up to look at you weakly. You grimaced at his cold skin, it felt like ice to you. It was as if he was turning into a giant ice cube right in front of you.

His appearance made your heart break. He looked so pale and broken since the last time you saw him. His eyes were red and swollen from the tears, snow gathering on his eyelashes, eyebrows, hair and clothing. Hell, he was wearing nothing but the thin coat he wore the last time you saw him. Dried blood was stuck to his cuckoo clock heart which was in a worse condition than it was back in Andalusia. You ran your thumb over his soft cheek, making him lean his face against your warm touch as you wiped the snow away from his skin. His breathing was slow, as if he was taking every breath he could before his last. 

With a shaky hand, you placed what's left of his heart back into their original place, your breathing becoming shaky as you held back your tears. It truly hurt you to see Renjun in this state, you knew he was on the brink of death. You didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if you had arrived much much later.

You pulled out the key to his heart from the inner pocket of your coat, leaning forward to press the key into his heart. But alas, his hand stopped you as he gently gripped your wrist and pulled it away from him. “No, I’m not too late. I’m not letting you die here, just let me turn the key,” you shook your head, blinking back the tears as you pushed your glasses up from the bridge of your nose. “I came back to save you, please just let me do this,” you pleaded, caressing his cheek with your thumb in a futile attempt to convince the love of your life to let you save him. 

“You came all the way back for me,” a tear streaked down Renjun’s cheek which froze under the cold atmosphere, sticking to his cheek. “That’s the most extraordinary turn you could ever give my heart,” he laughed slightly, half lidded eyes trying their best to stay open as his vision began to grow blurry and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was losing consciousness or if it was because of the tears he was holding back.

He tugged the key out of your hand before tossing it over the hill. “No, Renjun, what did you do?!” you panicked, your eyes growing wide at the key disappearing from your line of vision. “No, why did you do that?” you shook your head at him, pressing your body close to him as he leaned his back against the tree. “From now on, whatever happens to me,” Renjun spoke, giving you the same boyish smile he sent your way on your last day in Edinburgh two years ago. “I’ll only have myself to blame,” he sighed, intertwining your free hand with his icy cold one. 

“So now you can kiss me.” 

Your heart broke as you finally let your tears go, squeezing his hand tightly in yours as you sniffled. “As I said before, the things you do are absolutely inhumane,” you pushed your forehead against his, feeling your tears hit his wet clothes as you felt his other hand go to your jaw. “I’m just upset I never got to give you the painting I’d been working so hard on for all these years,” he chuckled, his eyes growing even more red as his tears streamed down his face like a leaking tap.

He caressed your jaw in his hand, eyes scanning your face one last time as he came with the fact that this was your last goodbye before he leaves for good. “If we were ever to be reborn again, I would still wish and pray for the gods to make you my first and last love,” he couldn’t help but laugh to stifle a sob that erupted from his throat. “And if we were ever to be reborn again, I hope you can always continue to smile like that until the day you close your eyes for good,” you nuzzled your forehead against his, sniffling hard. 

Thus with eyes clenched shut, you and Renjun pressed your lips together in unison for a passionate yet innocent kiss. You could hear the last strike of Renjun’s ticking clock, a loud ‘cuckoo’ piercing the quiet atmosphere as Renjun pulled you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your back and leaning his head to the side for a better angle. Your warm soft lips pressed onto his cold chapped ones, wet from the snow.  Your intertwined hands squeezing each other as you felt his mechanical heart put a ring on your own.

The next time Renjun opened his eyes, he was at the gates of heaven, standing in front of an actual angel with a bright expression on his face. “Huang Renjun, I assume?” the angel greeted, a soft smile spreading across their face as Renjun nodded. “You seem a bit too young to be up in heaven. Aren’t you just 18 years old?” the angel asked, pulling out a clipboard to look through Renjun’s life data. “I was almost nineteen, though,” Renjun shrugged, his wide smile never disappearing from his facial features.

“I’m so sorry you had to leave life so soon, young man,” the angel cooed, taking out a pen from their desk as they began to fill out Renjun’s form for his plans now that he’s in the afterlife. “Care to tell me what happened while I do the paperwork for you?” the angel asked, sticking their tongue out as they wrote Renjun’s life information on the glowing paper with a messy handwriting, reminding him of the postcard you had sent him less than a couple months ago. 

Renjun looked around the bright place he was in, sighing heavily as he stared up the gates of heaven with a content expression. He swiped his tongue over his pink lips as he finally felt his heart no longer empty, 

“I fell in love.” 

a/n: i didn’t like how this turned out lmfao but oh well HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, HUANG RENJUN MWUAH

¤ taglist: @leetaeyonglover @lebrookestore @oifelixcmerebrou @vera-liscious @kunrengui @thats-a-jen-no-no

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #neoculturecafe #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #renjun x reader #huang renjun x reader #nct u x reader #nct renjun x reader #nct angst #renjun angst #renjun scenarios #huang renjun scenarios #nct dream renjun x reader

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

#cockles ask #sexuality spec #jensen is bi #anti rps for ts #cockles #liz answers #ok i have to admit it is crazy i have retained all this info #i hope someone appreciates it #my analysis #mine

[mittensmorgul]

Re: s8 finale... I didn't like the trials plot for the same reasons and I also REALLY didn't get why Dean made Sam stop the trials/why they acted like Sam dying was a brand new possiblity. Like wasn't that most of their conversations about the trials up to that point?? That whoever did the trials might die?? It seemed like the Dean busting in at the last minute invalidated the whole stupid trials plot they'd been running with, unless I missed something.

Yeah... I mean that's part of the reason the s8 finale just doesn't work for me. It feels like their reasons for stopping it were just... unclear...

I am THRILLED that they stopped them, personally, because regardless of the personal sacrifice required to execute the trials and close Hell, I wish they'd leaned way further into the "the reason you should not do this is because it will fundamentally break the natural order in ways that are going to be Very Not Fun For Winchesters."

I personally feel that's why subsequent seasons leaned harder and harder into the reminder that the natural order exists for a reason and when it begins to break down, so does the fabric of reality, you know? Poke enough holes into it, and we start getting things like Amara breaking free, BMoL popping up out of nowhere, rifts tearing into alternate universes, and Chuck taking more and more control over the story.

But Sam's entire reasoning for him doing the trials versus Dean doing them was that Sam believed he could survive (which... is idiotic all on its own... I mean... their first info about them from Kevin was pretty clear on the consequences of going through with this, and Sam's decreasing health throughout should've only made it clearer that the power of positive thinking was not gonna save him from this). But this was the act of hubris-- the belief that they could make these god-level choices for all of creation and "improve" creation. They did not know what the consequences would be, and I'm not sure even Metatron did. And he WROTE them.

I'm also convinced that what Naomi SHOULD have warned them about rather than just the rather irrelevant (from her perspective) advice about Metatron having lied about SAM'S fate if he took on the trials, was that Metatron lied about the RESULTS of the trials... I FIRMLY believe that if Sam had carried them out, it would've very closely resembled what happened in Heaven, with the Angel Fall Event. Yes, it did "lock the gates of Heaven" but it did so by kicking all the angels to Earth. I honestly WISH that they had been clear that shutting the gates of Hell would've done the same with DEMONS.

And can you even IMAGINE.

These guys go in thinking they're locking up demons forever, but instead all the demons are punted out to Earth? They think they're solving all their demon problems but instead the planet is blanketed in black smoke? Yeah, I think that would've been the result if he had gone through with it, and the fact the show never even bothered to SUGGEST it as a possibility, but instead leaned hard on Dean and Sam's need to save each other instead was just... pointless? Stupid? Annoying? lol

Like... if they'd spent the entire season building that point up... even random comments of Dean reminding Sam that he promised to survive this, or Sam with Great Purpose Of Will insisting that he will survive... aside from the single instance of him saying that in 8.14 and then literally never mentioning it again, and carrying on AS IF HE KNEW he was going to die from the effort... well that actually could've been a sensible conclusion to the trials arc. BUT IT WASN'T.

It's like all of that storytelling was given to CAS instead, who DID "die" (his grace was ripped out and he was rendered human, anyway... he was fundamentally changed forever because of it) from carrying out the parallel ritual for Heaven. The angels spilled out onto the Earth, Heaven's gates were locked, human souls were trapped in the veil and unable to enter Heaven, and the fundamental order of the universe was disrupted.

But sure, it's totally plausible that Samndean just stopped the same Hell Trial because brothers who didn't want each other to die... >.>

So... yeah, the s8 finale kinda... misses that mark for me... there's just too much wtf lumped on to it from having no plausible reason for Dean to stop Sam from doing the thing they both already admitted all season long was likely to kill Sam in the process. There were just no emotional or cosmic stakes attached to WHY they stopped.

Narratively there's no THERE there. It's sloppy storytelling. I don't like it :'D

#spn 8.23

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

Episode 18 Transcript: Grey Pretends To Know Shit About Macbeth Every Time Crystal Mentions It

[intro guitar music]

G: Hello, my name is Grey.

C: And my name is Crystal.

G: And this is Busty Asian Beauties, a Supernatural commentary podcast, where I, someone who has seen this show several times…

C: And I, someone who only knows the show through social media, discuss every single episode of Supernatural from start to finish. Also, we are both Asian.

G: Both Asian!

-

G: So, for today's episode, we will be discussing Season 1, Episode 18: “Something Wicked,” written by Daniel Knauf, directed by Whitney Ransick. Both of these people, again, only worked on this one episode.

C: And they should have come back.

G: They should have come back. Usually, we leave our opinions of the episodes towards the end, but, like, I just want to say it upfront that this episode is so good. Especially as a Dean-centric episode, I feel like, usually the ones that- the Dean-centric ones we get, I don't really vibe with as much as I expect I would, but this one is Dean-centric, and good, and amazing, and I love it so much. [laughs]

C: It was pretty good. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it was amazing–like, do you know how much times I had to see Dean’s face on my screen? [G laughs] –but yeah, overall, it was pretty good.

G: There were a lot of close-ups of his face, I will admit. [laughs]

Okay, so before going in, Crystal, what were your expectations going into this episode?

C: I did not really know what this episode was going to be about. I know that the phrase “something wicked” comes from Macbeth, so I was like, "Well, maybe this is a witch case." And I think the monster of the week is a witch of sorts. I also knew that season 1, they needed to get the Colt at some point, so I was like, "maybe the gun will show up at some point," but I think that's for later. So yeah, really had no idea. Though I did know about the - how do you pronounce it? - shuh-tree-ga?

G: Shtriga, yeah.

C: Shtriga? Yeah, okay, I knew about the shtriga, like, from Tumblr posts, but I guess I had never really placed it within a certain season or episode of Supernatural.

G:This is quite a timeless episode, I feel like. Like, you could put this anywhere, and it would be an episode that makes sense.

C: Yeah, and, in fact, they try to put it anywhere in “Drag Me Away (From You).”

G: Yeah, exactly! Like, this is basically “Drag Me Away (From You).” And it's just so weird that, like, you know, this is one of the first- well, not the first few episodes of the show, but it's in the first season, and then we have like, the last few episodes of the show, and the thesis statement is the same. Like, literally has changed. [laughs]

-

G: Okay, so let's start with the episode. Whoo! We open with an adorable little child in her little child voice, like, praying what I assumed is a canned prayer. And I was right to presume that, because, apparently, this is like, a nursery rhyme from the 1800’s. And she goes to her bed after she prays, and her dad tucks her in.

C: [laughing] Well, first, he says, "Night, monkeypus."

G: I think that's like, monkey octopus, right? Or, what does it mean?

C: Maybe. It means nothing.

G: It means absolutely nothing.

C: It means nothing, it's just weird.

G: She asks her dad if Mom is coming home, and Dad looks at the family picture off the side of the bed, and says, “No, she's staying with your sister at the hospital.”

Her dad finally leaves, but the kid stays up. And she gets spooked by the branches outside her room. So she goes to close the window curtains and hides in her bed. What a poor kid. Like, they make a point of making this kid as cute as possible, so when-

C: Oh yeah.

G: - she gets eaten, it's like, "Oh no, poor kid." And we see one of the branches in the tree turn into a hand, which opens the window and creepily goes towards the bed and hovers over the child as it takes up white smoke into its mouth, which later on, we learn, is the shtriga eating the child's soul. Uh, no, life force.

C: There's screaming, and that's the end of that scene.

-

C: So we cut to the Impala, and it turns out that John has sent Sam and Dean coordinates to Fitchburg, Wisconsin for a case. I can't believe John has the fucking audacity to send them on a case after “Shadow.”

Sam says that he couldn't find anything in the local police reports or newspapers to indicate that something was up, but Dean says that they should trust in John. And also says, “Maybe he's going to meet us there.” He's not gonna meet you there, you stupid slut. [both laugh]

G: Literally, he's not gonna meet you there.

C: And that's what Sam says, word for word.

And then, Dean says, “Yeah there's definitely something in Fitchburg to hunt,” and Sam asks what makes him so sure, and Dean says, "'Cause I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right.”

G: They’re literally siblings.

C: Yeah, I mean if this was true siblings, Sam would have replied, "Well, I'm taller than you," and then Dean would have died, right there in that seat [G laughs], but I guess they needed him alive for the rest of the episode.

G: Exactly.

C: Yeah. Sam says, "No it doesn't," and Dean says, "It totally does," and they keep on driving to Fitchburg. And the camera zooms in to the sign for Fitchburg, where it's spelled F-I-T-C-H-B-E-R-G, even though the caption for the location in the first scene had "burg" spelled with a U. So what is the truth, Supernatural?

G: I can't wait for the IMDB review of the person from Fitchburg being like, "This is not what Fitchburg looks like! That's not how it's spelled! What's wrong with you guys?" [C laughs]

C: They go into town, get some coffee, and Sam notices that even though it's 4:10, the local playground is completely empty. And he thinks something is up.

G: He's literally so smart.

C: He's so smart.

G: And the way he says it too, it's so like, suspenseful, you know? Like, "Dean, what time is it?" And then Dean says the time, it's like 10 past 4, and he says, [overlapping] "So what's wrong with this picture?" And it's like [laughs] okay, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!

C: Yeah, so Dean walks up to a woman on a bench near the park.

G: Do you recognize this woman?

C: No. Who- who is she?

G: [laughing] It's Hannah again!

C: It's Hannah again?!

G: Yeah, they literally- it's literally been one season and they're already reusing actors. Like, they just used you in "Faith," Hannah, why are you here again?

C: I mean, who knows, maybe this is the same person. Maybe like, she moved away from wherever they were in "Faith' and took up a new receptionist job.

G: Yeah, and then she became a vessel later on. It's the same person!

C: Yeah, no, exactly! I hope there's fic out here about her.

She reveals to Dean that there are no kids around because they keep getting sick. It's a pretty serious illness, and about five or six kids are in the hospital.

G: So we go to Sam and Dean wearing suits, entering a hospital floor.

C: Sam looks so cute!

G: Sam is hounding Dean like, saying that he won't be using this ID that Dean gave him [both laugh] because it literally says "bikini inspector" on it! And Dean was like, "No, I promise, they won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, man." And Dean pivots Sam to the nurse registrar, and Sam introduces himself as Jerry Kaplan from the Center of Disease Control. And she does ask for some ID. And Sam shows her the ID, as, like, quickly as humanly possible. [C laughs] But she does end up giving him directions to the pedia ward. So Sam and Dean go up there. As they move towards the ward, Dean passes by an old lady's room. Who is creeepy because she's old! [both laugh] I guess. And also, the cross in her room is inverted, so this makes Dean stop in his tracks, but he proceeds.

Once they go to the pedia ward, they end up talking to Dr. Hydecker, who gives them the rundown of what's happening. 6 cases, 5 weeks. First, they thought it was pneumonia. Now, the kids don't respond to antibiotics, and their white cell count keep going down. He says, "Their bodies are just wearing out." And a nurse comes in to have something signed and pitches in that the way the disease is spreading is something new to her because it works its way through families, one sibling after another. So they ask to interview the kids, and all of the kids are in a coma, so they ask to interview the parents instead.

C: So, they talk to the dad that we saw in the teaser, Mr. Monkeypus, [both laugh] and we find out that the cute little girl's name is Bethany, and her older sister Mary was the one who got it before her. And he thinks that they probably caught pneumonia through an open window, because when he saw Bethany sick, the window was open, even though he closed it before he put her to bed. The window was on the second story, and it had a ledge, so he says no one besides her could have been the one to open it. Sam is doubting the case at this point, as he and Dean head out, but Dean is still putting his faith in John. And Sam’s like, “Okay, cool, well that dad is probably not going to be home for a while, so let's go break in.”

-

C: So, Sam and Dean are checking Bethany's room with an EMF, but nothing's coming up. But then Sam goes to the window and opens it up and he says, "Oh, yeah, something is up." So we look over the side, and there's this long, claw-like handprint in the wood that looks like it's like, rotted through the ledge. And it’s giant. Like, okay this man said, “Oh, I noticed the window was open,” and presumably, he went over and closed it after he noticed it was open after his daughter was sick. He didn't see the like, two-foot-long chicken hand on the window? [G laughs] And the five or six like, sick kids' parents before this also didn't notice the chicken hand on the window?

G: You know, it- only hunters see things like this, Crystal. [C laughs]

C: Damn, you got me.

So, Sam asks, "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?" And then, we get a flashback.

It's, like, sort of sepia toned. Or, there's some visual indicator-

G: Yeah, it's almost black and white.

C: Yeah, and we're in a motel room with baby Dean and baby Sam! And they look so

cute with their little baby faces!

G: Aww! They're kids! They're literally kids!

C: They're soo cute. Yeah, no, like Sam's got curly little hair, and Dean's got freckles... which he doesn't have any more when he's older. He doesn't have any more freckles, fanfiction writers. [laughs]

G: This is, like, almost a genre of Supernatural episodes, like, you know, flashback episode. And I do enjoy every single one of them, [overlapping] except for "Drag Me Away (From You)." [laughs] Fucking hate that episode. But, like, every single one of these just literally like, goes into my insides and knots everything up.

C: Also, like, these baby Sam and Dean actors are the baby Sam and Dean actors, you know?

G: Yeah. In your head, right?

C: Like, none of the other ones are truly it, but these ones are.

G: Well, I would say the 17-year-old, like, I think the Deans are all pretty good.

C: Even the one in "Drag Me Away (From You)"?

G: No. I hate "Drag Me Away (From You)." That's not included. [C laughs] But-

C: Yeah, no, hate to the actors, though. You were fine.

G: You were fine. It's just so funny it's just so funny that you're bringing up Sam going to college like, again, in the final season. It's like, you're not even gonna take this plot anywhere, bro! Anyway, let's bash that episode three years from now. [C laughs]

C: Yeah.

G: But like, you know- you know that episode where Sam and Dean go to high school? Like, that one's also good.

C: Is that one "After School Special"?

G: Yeah.

C: Is that the one where Sam has an English teacher and Dean gets chewed out by a girl for being a loser?

G: Yeah, I think so.

C: Nice.

G: I don't remember Dean's plot in that episode, but Sam's plot is that he has an English teacher, like every single one of us gay people.

C: [laughing] Yeah.

G: So, that's fun.

Though, the Dean-centric episode where he goes to the boys' home, the Dean there is also pretty good, I'd say.

C: Okay, yeah.

G: Yeah.

C: Okay, so we see in this flashback that there's a photo of the same handprint that we saw on the sill. And- oh, by the way, we're saying babies, but like, Dean’s like, 10 and Sam's like, 6.

John is about to head out, loading up on weapons and he tells Dean, "You know the drill. Anyone calls, you don't pick up. If it's me, I'll ring once then call back. You got that?" Dean goes, "Yeah, got it," and John tells him to look more alert because "this stuff is important." And Dean says, “Yeah, but we've gone over it like, a million times, and you know I'm not stupid,” and John says, “I know you're not.” Which, you know, is a really low bar, but I was afraid that John wasn't even gonna be able to go over that bar, [laughing] so at least there's that. That's the one nice thing I'll say John this episode.

G: [laughing] Then John's like, "Yeah, you're stupid as fuck, Dean!" [C laughs] "Like, sorry, I'm repeating everything; it's just, you're an airhead."

C: [laughing] Yeah.

Right, he says, “I know you're not,” but then he says, “But it only takes one mistake. You got that?” Which, who does he think is going to call?

G: Ghostbusters? [both laugh] Sorry, it's instinct.

C: I, yeah, I don't know who he thinks it's gonna call. Like, I think like, like, the ghosts we've seen do not use phones. None of the creatures we've seen so far have been phone users. Like, what is going to happen?

G: I think, maybe like, a monster can like, trick them or something.

C: Oh, yeah, they could imitate John's voice.

G: Or like, just some guy. Literally just some guy can fucking trick these kids.

C: That's true.

And also, if John's not back by Sunday night, then Dean repeats back to him that he should call Pastor Jim. They go through some more safety measures, and then John says, “Most important…” and Dean says, “Watch out for Sammy.” Aww!

G: The way this scene plays out, like, Dean looks behind him, looks over his shoulder, and it's Sam [laughing], looking like the sickest, most Victorian child! [both laughing]

C: [laughing] He literally- he's like the Pillsbury Doughboy, but like, with consumption.

G: Yeah.

C: He looks so sad and grieved. Like, he's supposed to be, I think, just relaxing and watching TV, but he looks like he's mourning the death of like, half the planet.

And then John finally says, "And if something tries to bust in?" And Dean says, “Shoot first, ask questions later,” something that this man has not grown from since the age of 10. Sorry, Dean, and sorry, everyone who's encountered Dean.

G: John doesn’t even give Dean a goodbye hug. I was waiting, for some reason, for a goodbye hug.

C: Right, 'cause he's 10!

G: I was waiting for John to go, "Come here, Dean!" and then like, give him a little hug or like, a little ruffle in the head, but nothing! I was like, "That's"-

C: He pats his shoulder.

G: But still.

C: And he says, “That's my man.” He is a boy. He's a little baby boy!

Oh, also, is this the first scene where we see John wearing the leather jacket?

G: Oh, I actually haven't thought about this, but that makes sense, because now Dean has the leather jacket, so.

C: Yeah. For all the first time viewers of Supernatural like, I'm sure that meant something to them. Like, "Oh god, Dean’s wearing his dad’s jacket. God damn."

G: Yeah.

C: Agh, yeah. And then we finally pan back to Dean, a close-up of his face, looking kind of stricken, and he says, “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.” Ugh.

-

G: Sam and Dean drive to a motel, and as we get out of the car, Sam asks what a shtriga is, and Dean says, "Oh, I'm not sure. Some kind of witch, maybe, but they don't know much about it." And I was like, "Who is 'they'? The hunting committee?"

And Sam says he's never heard of it from Dad or Dad's journal, and Dean says, “Oh, I'm sure Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, 16, 17 years ago?” And this is like, when you realize that Dean was literally 10, and Sam was literally 6, and I was stricken. I was so upset.

Dean says like, "Dad must have caught the scent of the shtriga in here and sent us out to finish the job." So Sam asks how the shtriga’s still alive despite being hunted by John before. And Dean says, "It got away." Sam presses at this, and my question for you regarding that is like: Do you think Sam thinks John is a good hunter? Or, do you think he thinks John is so obsessive that he will never leave a case open? Because those are the two options that were running in my head.

C: I think the second one.

G: Yeah, right?

C: Yeah, because Dean’s always been the one who's complimented John's hunting. Like, in “Scarecrow,” he was like, “Wow, look at all the skill it took to pull together all these cases.” Sam has never really said anything like that, and I think that, especially because this creature is not in John's journal, but it apparently went- like, got away then Sam’s thought is like, “Oh, yeah, Dad is both obsessive and prideful. Like, he didn't put in a case that he didn't solve into his journal because he's, yeah, obsessed with hunting and obsessed at being good at it, even if he's not."

G: Okay, so Sam asks, "What else do you remember," and Dean says, “Nothing. I was a kid.”

C: He was literally a kid!

G: He was literally a kid. My god.

Dean enters the motel, and a little kid is at the counter.

C: An absolute icon of a little kid. I know this child so well from like, two screenshots. [G laughs]

G: The kid asks, "King or two queens?" and Dean says, "Two queens." And the kid looks over at Sam for a long period of time, and says, “Yeah, I bet.” [both laugh]

C: So good.

Also, you know, I'm a big fan of him looking at Sam for this. Because, okay, the only times when I've seen these screenshots, it was for like, bi Dean truthers who are like, oh, this kid is clocking that Dean has gay energy. But no, this kid was clocking that Sam had long hair. [laughs] Like, he was looking at Sam.

G: [laughing] No!

C: So, first Dean says, “What did you say?” And then, the kid says, “Nice car.” And, you know that post that's like, “I told my girlfriend that I drive an Impala, and she said that we should both see other men”?

G: [laughing] No! Lisa-core.

C: Yeah, I think it was a Deanlisa post.

G: A lady walks in the front door and asks if Dean is checking in. And we learn that this is the kid’s mom. And she tells the kid, Michael, to go serve his brother, Asher, dinner, at which the kid grumpily goes away, and doubles down on the two queens remark. [both laugh] What the fuck is wrong with this kid?

C: He's so funny. He's the funniest kid in the world. Okay, like, I understand that Supernatural is being homophobic, but also, it's fine 'cause this kid is also gay and we're all just part of the same beautiful community.

G: Anyway, I was just thinking at this time that it would have been so funny if the mom was like, "Okay!" and then looks at Sam and goes, “King or two queens?” [both laughing] Like, if she repeated the question again, like, that would have been hilarious.

C: Yeah.

G: But they were going for more a serious tone in this scene. So, what we get instead is, as Dean is paying, he sees how Michael is serving his little brother dinner, and we go to another flashback scene.

C: Sorry, Dean’s face before the flashback is so funny. Like, he does, like, a whole little like, gasp, and looks up into the distance. Like, that is not how memories work!

G: You have to unfocus your eyes every time you remember something. It's the rule.

So we go to another flashback scene, right? And Dean is serving Sam milk and Spaghetti-O's. Sam first asks when John is coming back, to which Dean says, “I don't know.” Then, Sam says, “I don't want scabetti-o's.”

C: He's so cute!

G: He is so cute. And Dean says, like, "You're the one who asked for them!" And Sam's like, grumpy. He says, “I want Lucky Charms,” and Dean says, “There's none left,” and Sam recognizes that he's bluffing, and Dean says, like, “Yeah, there's only one bowl worth left, though, and I haven't had any yet.” Sam does his puppy-dog eyes, and Dean throws- he throws the Spaghetti-O's away.

C: In the garbage!

G: In the garbage.

C: Like, why didn't you eat them, Dean?

G: The thing is, like, I have never had Spaghetti-O's or Lucky Charms. But I assume Lucky Charms is good because it's just sugar.

C: Yeah.

G: Spaghetti-O's, though, I doubt they're good-

C: They're not bad!

G: Because what I have had is, I have had Kraft Mac and Cheese, and if the consistency is similar, throw that shit away, Dean. [laughs]

C: Well, well, Spaghetti-O's is-

G: Like, I don't support food waste, but-

C: Spaghetti-O's are pasta and tomato sauce, you know? Like, tomato sauce is meant to be in cans. Like, there's- like, it's not a powder sort of situation.

G: Mm, that makes sense.

C: It's more like a can of soup situation. Like, Spaghetti-O's are not bad. Dean should have eaten them.

G: He serves Sam the Lucky Charms, and Sam picks up the toy inside the Lucky Charms. He hands it to Dean and says, “Do you want the prize?” And I scream and cry.

C: He's so cute! Oh, he's soo cute.

G: More than like, the cuteness, it's... I don't know. It really got to me. I literally started crying, like, this is when I messaged you that, like, "I hate everything, and I will start crying right now!" And I did. [C laughs]

C: Yeah, no, it's- it's just how much Dean has to be a parent and how, like, Sam is like, even at age 6 sort of able to recognize that, like, I don't know, that he feels that he has to repay Dean in a way? But like, not in like, an unhealthy way, just like a- I don't know. Just in, you know, the fics where like, Sam makes Dean a card on Mother's Day. Like, the same- that has the same energy as that.

G: Yeah. This reminds me of that one post by like, someone like, put the screenshots of this scene up on Tumblr, and then somebody replied to it, saying like, "Oh, I've never seen this show, but if these are the main characters, now I get why you guys are fucking obsessed with it." [laughs] Because, like, this is it, you know? Like, you know, in "Shadow," we were like, "Oh, Dean has so many problems and disorders."

C: Yep.

G: And this episode is basically like, "Do you remember in 'Shadow' where Dean has so many problems and disorders? This episode, we will show you how and why he has those problems and disorders. Enjoy!" Like, this is that episode. [C laughs]

C: Yeah, yeah. I still hate, I still hate "Shadow" Dean, but "Something Wicked" Dean gets a pass.

G: Yeah. Dean's flashback ends, and that's that.

-

C: So, Sam's looking up shtrigas on his laptop, and he says that they’re an Albanian witch that's- that feed off spiritus vitae, which is the breath of life, or your life force. I know earlier, you said that they were eating people's souls, which isn't what Sam says here, but, I also saw in the fun facts section that, I think, in one of the books or something when Sam is soulless, the shtriga can't feed off of him.

G: Oh, interesting.

C: So I guess it sort of is- like, the life force is related to the soul, and also, apparently, to the- the soul is related to the immune system, somehow?

G: [laughs] Yeah.

C: Yeah. And Sam says, “Yeah, so maybe after she takes your life force, then your immunity goes to hell, and then you get pneumonia from the open window, but your white blood cells can't combat that.”

Which, I kind of think it's so funny that if the- if the shtriga had just closed the window after leaving, like, the kids would have been, like, okay-ish until their next illness?

G: [laughing] Yeah.

C: Like, there was no point. They already took the life force, like, this shtriga was just like, a little bit lazy and didn't want to close the window, and now, all the kids are dying now instead of like, in a month.

Yeah, he says that they can feed off anyone, but they prefer... and Dean finishes the sentence, "Children." And it's like, well, Dean, how did you know that? Well, for reasons. And Sam says that shtrigas are "invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man." Which- you know like, this- this episode is named a Macbeth quote, so I was thinking about, you know, like, the various conditions, like, "Macbeth will never be killed by like, a man born- of woman born," and stuff. Like, I was like, "Okay, so a weapon devised by woman, then? We can- we can do that one?" [G laughs]

Yeah, or like, I'm sure monkeys have devised weapons. Like, okay like, sharp, pointy stick is probably a weapon devised by animal, right?

G: [laughing] You can sting this shtriga with a bee.

C: [laughing] Yeah, okay, so-

G: The shtriga is allergic to bees.

C: - take the shtriga to the attic in "Bugs," and release the 10,000 live bees on it.

But Dean says, “No, the shtriga is vulnerable when it feeds. And when it's eating, then, if you blast it with consecrated wrought iron bullets, then, you're good.” Sam asks how he knows this, and Dean says, “Dad told me. I remember.” Sam’s getting suspicious about Dean’s level of knowledge with the case, so he asks like, “Oh, is there anything else Dad might have mentioned?” And Dean says, “Nope,” and Sam remains suspicious.

But he continues on to say that they usually take a human disguise when they're not hunting, often as an old woman. And Dean goes, “Okay, well, look, the addresses of all the victims are centered around the hospital, and while I was there, I saw an old woman.” [laughing] And Sam goes, “An old person? [together] In a hospital? Better call the coast guard!” [laughs] Oh, Sam you're so funny. Giggling and twirling my hair.

And Dean goes, “Well, no, but she also had an inverted cross on her wall,” so that's enough to convince Sam, and they head to the hospital.

-

C: So, they had to the hospital. They have to hide from Dr. Hydecker for a sec.

G: Yeah, are there only two nurses and one doctor in this hospital?

C: Yes. And they go into the room of the old woman. She's sitting there, her eyes seem open, but she doesn't really seem to be particularly aware of her surroundings. And Dean and Sam just go in holding their guns out.

G: Does this hospital not have CCTV? Like, what's going on?

C: First, that. Second, they were fully ready to just like, murder this random old woman? Like, I thought for a second that they were just gonna try to shoot, like, regardless of any feeding behaviors. God.

Also, I complain so much about them going into various situations unarmed. Like, they're like, "This is the situation in which we will go in armed, but in all the situations where we're going into ghost houses, where, even if we did accidentally shoot at someone, it would just be salt, we'll leave the salt guns in the car." Like, come on, guys!

G: [laughs] Yeah.

C: Yeah. So they creep in, closer and closer, holding their guns. Like, Dean basically has his face in her face and his gun on her face, when suddenly, she turns her head and says, "Who the hell are you?" Dean jumps, and like, back against a wall, and he puts his hand over his face in a screenshot that I feel like I've seen a lot. Have you seen this screencap a lot too?

G: Actually, no. I didn't recognize it.

C: Oh. Huh. Okay. I think people use it a lot, because you can really see his ring in that shot.

G: Oh, that makes sense, that makes sense.

C: Yeah, and you're like, "Aw, I miss when Dean wore jewelry."

G: I do miss when Dean wore jewelry. In fact, [laughing] I wear- I wear a silver ring, right on the finger where Dean wears his.

C: [laughing] Oh my god. Oh my god.

G: And it looks kind of like his, too! So, you know I am- you know there's something wrong with me. [both laugh]

C: Yeah.

So the old woman keeps talking, and she's pretty clearly a human. She's like, “Who's there? Are you trying to steal my stuff?” And Sam says, “No, we're maintenance. We thought you were sleeping.” And the woman’s like, “Ah, nonsense. I was sleeping with my peepers open?” And then she says, “And can you like, go fix that cross on the wall? I've already asked before.” And they're like, "Oh, oof." And Dean turns it back around, and they head out.

-

G: In the meantime, as night falls, we see Michael and his brother, Asher, sleeping in the motel room. And we see their window open, and the shtriga manifest, and we cut. So we don't see if it explicitly, but we know that one of them gets attacked.

So we go to the morning now, back in the motel where Sam is fucking laughing his heart out about the old gal's like, "Sleeping with my peepers open" comment. And I was like, "It's literally morning now, Sam. Get over it!" [laughs]

C: No, but it was really cute! I like when he laughs.

G: He doesn't know- Jared Padalecki doesn't know how to act-laugh.

C: No!! That's so mean. No-

G: You're defending Jared Padalecki?

C: That's just how my- that's how my beautiful, brown-eyed boy laughs. That's how Sam laughs, and I won't have you making fun of Sam's laugh!

G: All I can hear is Jared Padalecki defense! Sorry, Crystal.

C: No!!! No! It's not Sam's fault that his laugh just happens to sound like that, and I think that we should appreciate every time Sam feels joy, regardless of the vessel that it's going through.

G: [laughing] Alright, alright.

So Dean's like, "It's not funny," and Sam says, "Well, you should have seen your face." And Dean's like, "Laugh all you want, but we are back to square one." Just then, Dean sees Michael - two queens kid - in a bench, forlorn. So he goes there, and apparently his little brother is sick with pneumonia. The kid blames himself, because the window was unlatched, and he says that he should have checked the window was latched. So Dean looks at the kid and says, like, “I promise you, it's not your fault,” and I start crying yet again. [both laugh]

C: Yeah. Oof.

G: God. The kid says, like, “It's my job to look after him.”

C: Yeah, like, we already know that this kid is a Dean mirror, but every time they make mirrors in Supernatural, they have to go really hard on it in case you didn't get it yet.

G: Supernatural - like, every character in Supernatural is a mirror to another character.

C: No, I mean, that's why the Sam-coded/Dean-coded/Cas-coded system works so well, because literally every character on Supernatural is one of them-coded.

G: So, just then, the mom steps out of the motel with some stuff for the hospital, and starts instructing the kid on what to do while she's gone. Michael insists to go to the hospital with her, and Dean goes up to the kid and basically says like, “Hey, I get it. I’m a big brother, too." [C makes pained sound] "But you gotta go easy on your mom."

C: Okay, the "I'm a big brother, too" is very- [pained sounds] And also, yeah, I just- I feel like- do you think that he sees Mary in this woman at all?

G: No, I think this woman is supposed to be a John parallel.

C: Yeah, right, because she's instructing the kid on what to do. But also, I feel like Dean has enough problems and disorders that, like, every mother, he sympathizes with becomes Mary in his brain a little bit, you know?

G: Yeah, I get what you mean.

Dean offers to drive the mom, and she first says, like, “No, I can’t do that,” but eventually agrees. And he is such a gentleman! Like- [laughs] I know he is a notorious and violent misogynist, but also, this scene, I was like, "Oh, look at him! He's a little gentleman! He's closing the door for her!" And he- before he goes into the car, he says to Sam, “I want this thing dead. You hear me?” And then he walks away, and they go to the hospital.

C: It's- I think even before we know the specifics of Dean's involvement with this case, I still really liked how personally he was taking it just because I felt like it was a good carryover from "Dead in the Water," where he's shown to be very good with kids and caring about them a lot, and how he turned the car back around just because he wanted to check on Lucas. So, like, yeah, I understand why some people sometimes like Dean. Sometimes.

G: [laughs] Yeah.

C: [laughs] Yeah.

-

C: So, Sam's at a library now while Dean is in the hospital, and he and Dean are calling. Kid's not doing well, while Sam has been tracing similar incidents happening across history. So, it seems like, every 15 to 20 years, this shtriga finds a new town and kills kids there for months, and all these kids go into comas and then die. The earliest time that this happened was in a place called Black River Falls in the 1890s. And then he pulls up a photo from the newspaper, and it's of a bunch of doctors standing around a kids bed, but one of the doctors is Dr. Hydecker-

G: Good for Sam!

C: In a photo taken in 1893. Yeah, good for Sam. He's so smart.

G: He's so smart, but also, like, I literally would never recognize this guy. Never. I literally would never.

C: Yeah, like, I don't remember what he looks like right now, and I watched this episode, like, two hours ago.

And Dean's like, "Are you sure?" and Sam says, “Yeah, absolutely.” So Dean hangs up, and he sees Dr. Hydecker, who's right there in the room with him, telling Asher and Michael's mom, "Don't worry. Your son's in good hands. I'm gonna take care of him." And Dean looks like, so0 angry. Like, he's so mad. Like, he, yeah.

And- oh, do you think- do you think it's because he's thinking about how this is the person that attacked Sam? Like, little 6-year-old Sam? Like, I know he cares about kids in general, but do you think there's that element there, too?

G: I'm sure there's that element, although I did read it purely as "he's just angry that all these kids are suffering," like, in general.

C: Yeah, yeah. So Hydecker asks Dean what the CDC has come up with so far, and Dean says, “Eh, we don't know yet, but I'll let you know,” and Hydecker says, “Nothing's more important to me than these kids. Let me know if I can help.” And Dean says, “I’ll do that,” very murderously.

G: I may or may not become a doctor in the future, but like, if ever I become a doctor, I want to be the doctor that Dean is presenting here, right now. [laughing] Which is a doctor who's wearing a leather jacket. [both laugh]

C: Yeah. God, also, like, okay, I was like- oh no, I think I wrote down during this scene, like, "Dean's doctor kink is ruined!" [laughs]

G: Noo. Noo!

C: [laughing] Yeah, no like, the next time he turns on Dr. Sexy, he's like, "I can't even look at you, right now!"

I forgot to make the joke that the shtriga disguising themselves despite the she/her pronouns we used on them earlier is trans rights.

G: [laughing] This creature eats children!

C: Yeah! Exactly. Diversity win! This creature eats children.

-

G: So, back in the motel, Sam and Dean talk about the case, and Sam says, like, “Oh, doctor disguise is so convenient,” and he tells Dean he's surprised Dean didn't just shoot the guy, right then and there. And Dean says, like, “One, we were in the pedia ward. I'm not going to shoot the guy. Two, the dude is only vulnerable when he's feeding. And three- [overlapping] I wasn't packing."

C: [laughing] Trans Dean! Trans Dean! Trans Dean! Trans Dean!

G: And he says, like, "If I had a gun, I would have finished the clip on this guy," which is a promise that the show makes, you know? Like, "when Dean finally shoots this guy, he's gonna empty the clip on this creature." And we kind of got it, but not to my satisfaction.

C: I think- I think they did enough. Like, didn't they- didn't he shoot him in the head like, three times in succession? Like, that's sufficient for me.

G: No, no, just two times. I counted.

C: Oh, never mind. Boo.

G: So it wasn't- it wasn't satisfactory.

Dean then suggests that they wait for the shtriga to attack Michael. And Sam is completely fucking appalled by this, you know, the concept of using a kid as bait. Dean insists, saying that "Dad did not send me here to walk away." Sam says, like, "Sent you? He sent us!" And Dean says, like, "It's on me, though. It's my fault, though. Like, who knows how many kids got hurt because of me?"

Sam continues questioning him. Like, "What are you hiding?" and Dean goes silent. And then Sam says, “You've been hiding something from me from the get-go. Talk to me.”

So Dean does.

So, three nights into the motel that they were saying in when Dean was 10, Dean says he needed to get some air because he was climbing up the walls. And Dean goes out for a walk while Sam is sleeping. He goes to the nearby arcade for a bit, and then walks back home, when, in the motel room, he sees something in Sam's room. He opens the door slowly, and he sees that the shtriga is feeding on Sam. So John busts into the room and starts shooting the shtriga, like, right before Dean was about to shoot the thing himself.

C: Oh, the shot of Dean, like, little little baby Dean reaching for his gun and holding it up is used in many AMVs about the cycles of violence that happen through the family in Supernatural.

G: And it's- it's an evocative shot, you know?

C: It is.

G: Like, little baby-

C: Yeah, he's a little baby! Like, the gun's like, almost taller than him, like, basically. Ahh, he's just a kid!

G: He literally is just a kid.

So it gets away, and John cradles Sam, who is still alive, and John asks Dean like, "What happened?" Dean says, like, "I went out, I'm sorry." John says, "I told you not to leave this room. To not let him out of your sight." And John's face is full of disgust.

C: Specifically, after Dean says, "I just went out," John says, “What?!” and Dean starts looking like, scared, and then he says, like, “Just for a second. I'm sorry.” And then John says the rest.

G: Yeah.

C: And it's just soo [screams]. He's 10! He's 10! He's 10.

G: He's literally 10.

C: Also because- because I care about Sam more, still, do you think that... Okay, 'cause, like, the shtriga like, still took a bit of Sam's life force before it jumped away, right?

G: Yes.

C: Like, do you think that that had any effects on Sam?

G: You know that joke that like, "Sam always collapses on every episode in future seasons"?

C: Oh my- [laughs]

G: I was like, "This is the shtriga's fault." [both laugh]

C: Yeah. Oh, my poor little fainting Victorian maiden.

G: At some point, though, I would rewatch episodes from like, season 9. Season 9 is like, the season after he did the trials, so like, it's understandable that he's weak, but he literally does get knocked out every single episode! What's wrong with this guy? [both laugh] He's got brain damage, bro!

C: Poor boy. Yeah.

But also- huh, do you think- 'cause I feel like even at this point, Sam with his psychic powers and everything has felt for a long time that there's something wrong with him, that there's something in him that's evil. Do you think maybe after hearing this story, he was like, "Maybe the 'something wrong' was just something missing"? Like, "That shtriga took something away when I was a baby, when I was six."

G: That is a good thought, yeah. Maybe! They don't do a good job of showing Sam's perspective in this episode, I feel like.

C: Oh, yeah, they just cut to Sam, standing in the background being like, "Oh, I'm so touched."

G: And that makes sense because, you know, the the character they're developing is Dean.

C: Boo.

G: Even if the relationship that they're developing is Sam and Dean's. I- I forgive it. Because this is a good episode.

C: I know. It's a good episode.

G: Yeah. So we go back to the present day, and Dean says Dad just grabbed them and booked, and drop them off at Pastor Jim’s, and then, when he went back the shtriga was gone. And it never resurfaced until now.

Dad never spoke about it again, and Dean didn't ask, but he, I quote, "looked at me different, you know, which is worse. [C screams] Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen. I almost got you killed." [pained sounds]

C: Killing and biting and killing and biting and attacka and killing John with a branch.

G: Yeah. Sam says, "You were just a kid," and Dean says, “Dad knows this is unfinished business for me, so don't say that. And he sent me here to finish it." [overlapping] Okay, this is where we talk about-

C: - how fucking manipulative and shitty it was of John to send him here.

G: There are only two options here, right? Which is, one, John knows exactly what Dean is gonna feel about this case, and he wants Dean feel this way. Two, the second option is he is completely unaware of the guilt wreaking havoc in Dean's psyche right now. And both options are so bad. Like, I would say that the intentional like, "Oh, let's teach Dean a lesson is worse"-

C: Yeah.

G: But, but like, being so disconnected from your son and thinking of him as less than a person enough to think that he's not even gonna feel guilty. Like, that also is so shitty.

C: Yeah, well yeah. 'Cause Dean says, "Dad knew this was unfinished business for me."

G: Yeah.

C: So Dean thinks that it's the punishment option, and he thinks that John is right to do that, too. It's so much.

G: Like, I know that Dean is an adult, and John doesn't need to protect Dean anymore, but I assume, as your parent- as a parent - like, it's your instinct to protect your child, and obviously, like, this instinct has long been gone from John ever since, I guess-

G: I mean, it was gone when Dean was 10 and Sam was 6 and he left his children alone in the town with the child-eating monster, thinking that the child-eating monster wasn't gonna eat his children.

G: Can't John just spare Dean this one? Like, that's all I asked! 'Cause he's so guilty, like, I don't know. It- it really got to me.

C: Yeah. And the way he doesn't even take Sam, like, trying to make him feel better with the like, "you were just a kid." Like, that doesn't matter to Dean. Like, he- it's like, he feels just as guilty as if he'd like, let this happen today.

Oh, and also, you know that scene with Dean and Mary that's been going around Tumblr a lot this week where Mary's like, "I am your mother, but I'm not just a mother, and you need to stop acting- like, being a child," and Dean says, "I never was a child"?

G: He was a child. He was just a kid! But he also literally was never a child. [both make pained sounds] Yeah.

C: Yeah.

G: God.

-

C: Dean and Sam are now at the motel reception, talking to Michael, telling him about what's up. Michael, at first, doesn't believe them and calls them crazy. But Dean says like, “This is real. It attacked your brother. I've seen it, and it attacked my brother once too.” And Michael reveals that he saw a figure with a long black robe during the night that Asher got sick, but he just thought it was a nightmare. Dean says, “I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real.” [pained sound] And then, Michael asks, “So why are you telling me?” And then Dean says it's because they need his help. And Michael is pretty resistant at first. But Dean says, “This thing hurt Asher, and it's gonna keep hurting kids unless we stop it.” Which is not the best way to convince like, a 10-year-old to- [laughs] like, he's trying to guilt this 10-year-old into helping! Like, come on, dude!

And also, secondly, if I was Dean, I would just say like, "This thing works through siblings, so like, either it's going to come and eat you tonight, or it's gonna come and eat you tonight, but we'll be there with guns."

G: Yeah.

C: Like, which one would you prefer, my dude? But yeah, whatever, I guess. Yeah, so we cut to the inside of the motel room with Dean saying, "Well that went crappy." So it didn't work, and Sam says, “Well, yeah, you can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid." And then there's a knock at the door, and it's Michael.

G: Oh, god.

C: Oh, by the way. That the Dean mirror's name is Michael? Fun.

G: No, no, no, like-

C: What?

G: Did John use the two as bait?

[pause]

C: Oh my god! Shit!

G: He did, didn't he?

C: Because he- 'cause he- he ran into the house, like right after it started feeding on Sam, right?

G: Yes.

C: Like, how did he know? Dean didn't call him. Oh my god! Shit.

G: Or did he, like, track the shtriga down? Because, like, the only way it makes sense that he- because he doesn't bust in and then see the shtriga, and then like, go like, "Oh my god!" Like, he busts in, guns blazing.

C: Yeah!

G: So he knows the creature is there.

C: Yeah, like, he had been watching outside the window. And also, okay, he said that it was Dean's job, and that he should shoot like, if anything tries to break in, right?

G: Yeah.

C: Did he basically say like, "I'll leave them as bait, and Dean can be the one who kills it"?

G: [sighs] Fucking god.

C: Like, "time to send Dean on his first hunt at age 10!" Oh my god, what the motherfuck.

G: And- and we know that Dean is used as bait, occasionally, because we get a future episode in this season where that happens.

C: Yeah. Oh, god.

G: Ahh, I'm gonna kill this guy! [laughs]

C: Oh, god, John Winchester is soo dead. He's so dead. I mean, we only have to wait, what? Like, five more episodes, and then we get to see him die, anyway, so.

G: Yeah, but he dies a heroic death. Eugh.

C: Yeah, whatever, like, cut out the part where I like, farted on his face after he died or whatever. [G laughs]

C: Yeah, um. So yeah, they open- sorry, I need a moment. Oh my god, he literally used them as bait. Okay!

They open the door, and it's Michael. And he asks, “If you kill it, will Asher get better?” And Dean says, “Honestly, we don't know.” And then Michael says, “You said you said you were a big brother,” and this is the moment that I started crying in the episode.

G: Noo! [pained sounds] It's such a scene.

C: Yeah, which I think is the first time I have cried while watching Supernatural season 1, so, I guess, put that in the history books. And Dean nods, and Michael says, “And you'd take care of your little brother? You’d do anything for him?” And Dean says, “Yeah, I would.” And Michael says, "Me too. I'll help." And I think while this is going on, the camera sort of pans back to Sam standing in the shadows, watching this exchange going on, looking very touched. Yeah, and it's all- it's all a lot.

G: Yeah.

-

G: So, it's night. And we are in Michael's room. Sam and Dean- well, Dean is setting up night vision cameras in the room, and Dean instructs Michael on what to do. It's just yada-yada. Like, I feel like they only made it this long- 'cause the explanation of what Michael should do is so long. Like, they only did that to fill up time, I feel like.

C: I mean, I don't think it was that useless. I kind of liked it, I guess like, on one hand, I just liked knowing that they had a plan and they weren't gonna shoot this kid on accident.

G: Yeah.

C: And, I don't know, I feel like it's another scene of like, Dean being good with kids, right? Like, he warns Michael that the gunshots gonna be too loud. He tells him to stay under the bed and cover his ears.

G: And most importantly, he tells him- he asks Michael if he wants to do this, and he says, "If you don't, it's okay. I won't be mad." [both make pained sounds and yell]

C: I think right after Dean says, “It's okay, I won't be mad,” I wrote down, “Fine, Deangirls, I get it.” Like, I'm not one of you, but I understand.

G: We go to Sam and Dean waiting outside the room. It's currently 3am, and they talk about how they're using consecrated iron rounds, like Dad used last time. And then Sam says, “Hey, Dean, I'm sorry.” He says, “I've given you a lot of crap for following Dad’s orders, but now I know why you do it.” [laughs] And Dean says, “Oh, god, kill me now.” [both laugh]

C: And then "Asylum" Sam reaches out for his gun, and goes, "Okay!" [both laugh]

G: In the camera that they're watching Michael's room from, they start to see the branch warping into a hand. The shtriga is about to attack.

And it manifests, and it moves towards Michael and starts to feed on him. And the brothers bust in and start shooting. And the shtriga is dead, except, it's not dead, and it attacks Dean. It also attacks Sam afterwards, and it starts to feed on Sam. And Dean shoots it square in the head. And we see like, little blood splatter on the camera lens.

He's- Dean says like, "You okay, little brother?" to Sam.

C: Which is cute, but also like, no one says that in English.

G: The life force that the shtriga absorbed gets released into the ether. And Dean, as promised, empties his clip on him, but only twice. So I wish they did like, at least three or four. But, alas.

C: Yeah. Okay. I want to know the logistics of this energy escaping. Like, are we assuming it goes back to the specific kids that it came from?

G: Yeah, I hope so. [laughs] You have another person's life force inside of you?

C: Okay, but then, what about- but what about all the kids who died. Like, are their corpses getting resurrected in the ground?

G: Yeah, the next episode is zombie invasion. [both laugh]

C: Of the kids from 1890, yeah, going, "Why isn't it the Victorian era anymore?"

-

C: So now we're outside of the motel, and Sam and Dean are- oh wait, also, okay, the shtriga sort of disintegrates, but the robe stays behind, right?

G: [laughing] Yeah.

C: Like, what is Michael gonna do with the robe? Like, also isn't there dust all over the ground? I hope that they helped Michael clean up, and now Michael either has a really good Halloween costume, or they just put it in the dumpster.

So we're outside of the motel, and Dean and Sam are packing up the Impala, about to leave. And Michael's mom shows up. Dean asks after Asher. She doesn't reply, but she asks if Michael's here, and he runs up to her and she hugs him. And she tells him that Asher is gonna be fine, and all of the other kids are also doing fine, and they should all be leaving in a few days. Sam asks about Dr. Hydecker, and the mom says, “Oh, he wasn't in today, must have been sick or something.” So yeah, he's very dead. And the mom asked Michael if anything happened while she was out, and Michael looks at Dean, and then lies, saying like, “Nope, same old stuff.” And they head off to see Ash in the hospital.

As they go away, Sam says, “It's too bad,” and Dean says, “Oh, they’ll be fine.” And Sam says, “That's not what I meant. I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark. He’ll never be the same, you know? Sometimes I wish that..." And Dean says, "What?" Sam says, “I wish I could have that kind of innocence.” Ahh!

And then Dean says, after a long pause, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.” Ahh! And then they drive away.

G: What an episode.

C: Yeah. [laughs]

-

G: So that's the end of the episode. Crystal, we already know what I think. What do you think?

C: Yeah. Screaming and crying and biting and kicking.

G: So true.

C: Yeah. [laughs] That's all I have to say.

G: Because this the first episode I'm watching that I didn't watch recently, so like, last year. And I was like, "I should have! I should have continued my rewatch!" 'Cause this is when it gets good. Like, I told you this off air, but the next couple of weeks that we're gonna be recording, it's gonna be a blast, I feel like. Like, these episodes are gonna be very good, and I am already looking forward to it. And I think this is when season 1 really picks up its pace.

I have a question.

C: Yeah.

G: Would you consider season 1 plotless?

C: Um, I mean a lot of the monster of the week episodes are quite isolated.

G: Yeah.

C: So, yeah. Like, every episode they're like, "We have to find dad! But first let's go kill a ghost!"

G: Yeah, "We have to kill this monster!" Yeah. I think it's more character-driven than plot-driven. Which, I- like, Supernatural is not- like, you know, Supernatural is notoriously a show where everything happens. So, like, it's- it's fun to have this like, easy-going first season that's a bit plotless, but still character-driven. And this episode is the peak of that. Like, the plot just is meant to be there to enhance the character, which I love.

-

G: Okay, so Best Line/Worst Line. What's your best line?

C: Uh, I guess, probably the ending scene, right? Where Sam says that "Sometimes I wish that I could have that kind of innocence," and Dean says, "If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too." Screaming and crying. You?

G: I really like the line like, "He looked at me different."

C: "Which was worse."

G: Because- [laughs] Do I need to explain? We all know why I like the line. Because it really showcases how Dean views his relationship with John, you know. That John sees him as a soldier, and not even a good soldier at that, you know? And it makes me so fucking miserable, but it's a good line.

G: What's your worst line?

C: Huh. There's not really any particularly bad lines that stand out to me.

G: There are no bad lines in this episode, I feel like.

C: I don't think that's true, but let me- let me think a little longer.

G: I cannot think of one. "King or two queens?" [laughs]

C: [laughing] No, that's the best line.

G: [laughing] That- yeah.

C: Oh. My worst line is "Night, monkeypus." [laughs]

G: Noo! That line is- no, because it- I don't know. What is a monkeypus?

C: Nothing!

G: An octopus monkey? Or is it a monkey octopus? Or perhaps, a monkey cat? Who knows.

C: Maybe. We- yeah, it's a mystery, but that'll be the main monster in season 2.

G: I'll just hitch my wagon on your line, as we like to say.

C: Okay. Yeah.

G: -and say that "monkeypus" is a pretty goofy line.

Okay, IMDB rating. I'll go first. I'll go first. 8.9. I really love this episode, I think it's really good, I think it's well-written, I think it's better than the pilot, which is now an 8.6, so. I'm going for 8.9.

C: Right. Yeah, I would put this one, probably in the same tier as "Home," which I know is currently an 8.8, so I'm gonna guess 8.8.

G: Oh no!

C: What?

G: It's an 8.6.

C: What?! Why? Why are you people so mean and wrong?

G: One of these says, like, "Chick flick moments. A little bit too cheesy for me at times."

C: Boo.

G: Come on! You're literally watching Supernatural, bro.

C: Yeah. Oh, the person who says "John Winchester is the monster of the season" - so true. So true.

G: So true. This one said, "This episode made me love the show."

C: Aw.

G: That makes me feel feelings.

[laughing] Oh my fucking god, one of these- one of these says, "Not just brothers," and I was like, "Holy shit"-

C: What? No!!

G: And then I clicked- I clicked expand, and it says, "Big sisters too, do what they have to to protect their little sisters and brothers."

C: [laughing] Oh my god!!

G: And I was like, "Thank god."

C: Oh my god. Oh my god. I would've died.

G: Oh, "in this episode, I started to dislike John Winchester." We are getting people on our side.

C: Oh, the last one end with, "THIS is what Supernatural is. THIS is why it's the best show on television. THIS." [both laugh]

G: I mean, we're doing a podcast for it, so I can't really say this-

C: I mean, it's not the best show on television, but like... it's dece.

G: But we are doing a podcast for it, so.

C: It's dece.

What do you think is the best show on television?

G: Right now?

C: In general.

G: Well, when I was young, I really liked House M.D. [laughs]

C: Noo!!

G: It was the first TV show I have ever watched. House M.D.

C: That's so sad!

G: I know. I mean, it's not bad. It's not a bad show.

C: I- listen, yeah, no, I've definitely had phases where I've been penis delirious about it, but also like. Geez, is that show racist and misogynistic.

G: The thing is, like, when I was younger like, I would say thir- no, like 11. I read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works. All of them.

C: Oh, yeah.

G: What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? [laughs]

C: No, I also very much had a Sherlock Holmes phase.

G: Yeah, and then I watched two shows. I watched Sherlock-

C: Boo.

G: And I watched House M.D. Because I read somewhere that these two are like, renditions, renditions of Sherlock Holmes. So like, between the two, House M.D. is obviously the better show.

C: Yeah, between the two, House M.D. is the best show on television.

G: Exactly.

C: Aw, you didn't even watch Elementary?

G: I never got around to it, because I was a bit older when I learned about it, and I was already a Supernatural superfan.

C: Alright, well, our next podcast will be me having watched every episode of Elementary and you only knowing about it from nowhere.

G: This is not just because I'm Asian, so I'm saying this, but I also really like Kim's Convenience.

C: Mm, I've watched like one episode of it, but I don't think I continued.

G: It's the only sitcom that I've watched that I find bearable. Every other sitcom, I fucking abhor. Like, even The Good Place, which allegedly is very good-

C: Eh.

G: I watched one episode, and I was like, "This shit sucks, bro!" Like, I'm not- I'm not that kind of person.

C: I'm neutral on The Good Place. It has some lines and some good twists, but yeah, it's not like, particularly engaging. [laughs] Sorry, women.

G: Okay, since we're already in deep in this tangent, what is your best TV show?

C: Um, I'd say from a writing standpoint, I'd say that Bojack Horseman and Fleabag are the two shows that I think are the most well-written that I've seen.

G: You're so basic!

C: I know. I know, but they're good!

G: Fleabag is very good, I must admit.

C: Yeah. It is. But yeah, feel like those are what I go with in terms of just like, shows that I think are very good from a writing standpoint. I think Elementary may be a personal favorite, but also, like, I understand that it's actually quite boring.

G: Yeah.

G: I... the thing with me is, obviously the fact that I like Supernatural, I like spending time with characters. Like, for me it's the duration of the time I've spent with them that matters more than the quality of the show.

C: Yeah. Yeah. 15 years can do anything to you.

G: Yeah. [laughs] Now that we've lost literally every single person listening, I think we should say goodbye!

C: [laughs] Yeah.

G: That's it for this episode of Busty Asian Beauties. Next time, we will be talking about Season 1, Episode 19: “Provenance.” Leave us a rating or a review wherever you get your podcasts.

C: Follow us on social media. We are on Twitter at twitter.com/BeautiesPodcast and on Tumblr at bustyasianbeautiespod.tumblr.com. Our official tag is #babpod, B-A-B-POD. And thank you to everyone who's donated to our ko-fi at ko-fi.com/bustyasianbeautiespod.

G: You can email us any feedback, comments, or inquiries at [email protected]. See you guys next time! Bye!

C: Bye!

[guitar music]

#transcript

[autisticandroids]

15, 21, 23?

15. something you learned this year

i don't know if i can say i learned a new skill as such. but one thing is like... i really enjoyed making three card stud. and it really opened my eyes to like, how much of what i like about the practice of fanfiction is the meticulous remixing/reinterpretation of canon. there's a way in which the AMV is a more... analytical art form than the fanfic, because you are literally forced by the constraints of the medium to keep to the text. all you have are song lyrics and the kuleshov effect to convince your audience to take the new meaning you intend to convey from stuff already in the show. and i brought that ethos to three card stud even though i did add stuff. in a lot of ways three card stud was just me listing off things from canon i think a lot about and saying eh? eh? like. hoping the context would make it clear *why* this stuff makes me crazy. and i think that was a lot of the motivation behind the fic i'm currently working on, which is about dean and cas getting caught by the police. that fic at this point is mostly lists of things that have happened in spn episodes, placed in a new context by baffled feds and cops. which is the fun part. so like basically i learned that this is really fun, listing off canon facts in a new context

21. most memorable comment/review

so the most memorable traditional comment as such i got was probably this one, on i fold in half so easily (ifihse tends to generate the best comments because it's extremely dark without the ways in which it is dark being obviously flagged. so people are more shocked and more forced to think). "Cas: no officer i am very happy please dont tell dean im emotionally complex" is so funny and true that's literally what happens in that fic.

another top contender is this one, on getting serious, which generates good comments for the same reason ifihse does, though it's a lot less intense.

but in terms of my favorite *response to my work,* it was the breastfeeding anon saga (in chronological order here) which was a response to my fic smorgasbord.

and then i wrote a fic based on those anons, and then i got these very funny tags on my fic post:

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

when i tell you about the 120k deanvictor fic which is literally 90k of victor henriksen hunting down a serial killer dean winchester while becoming a little (sexually) obsessed with him and then 30k of victor knowing about the supernatural and moonlighting as a hunter while he and dean suck each others dicks so much.

and also it's about victor's relationship with his two ex wives and his former stepdaughter who he is still emotionally a parent to even though they have no legal relationship and the coworker he had an emotional affair with who he doesn't speak to anymore and how he feels trapped in his life and his job and dean represents this escape for him this total freedom. just living in his car on the road and not having to worry about what your boss thinks or needing to quit smoking. while for dean victor represents this stability and adulthood dean can never achieve. and dean leaves three spare pairs of underwear in victor's divorcé bachelor pad as a kind of little... fantasy. of what life could be like.

anyway the most compelling scene from that, IN MY MIND, is a scene where victor STILL thinks dean is a serial killer. and now he has him in custody. and against his will he's... charmed. by dean. because dean is charming and pathetic, shaking and sweating from mild alcohol withdrawal but still cracking jokes and being friendly and observant and extremely young-feeling, for 28. and earnest in a way he didn't expect. and they're forced to work together against a demon siege, a spin on jus in bello where victor still doesn't find out about the supernatural he's just protecting himself and a prisoner from a threat. and he has the uncomfortable realization that he's attracted to dean winchester (serial killer) (guy he is trying to take down) (has killed so so many people). and he's like well. we can table that for later. and then dean escapes.

so i've been trying to figure out a way to scoop out just that scene and turn it into its own fic because that's actually manageable for me.

the dean and cas pursued by the cops idea also comes a bit from frustration that i can't write this, though the feds in that one are ocs bc it's later.

from here

#spn #asks #sketcheun

[wickedw3asleys]

MINEFIELDS - Pt. 2

George x reader

-> Part 1

WARNINGS: cussing, smoking, some angst, some fluff, mentions of sadness and anxiety..., couple fight...

With a cigarette on your lips, you continued admiring the beautiful lake behind the Burrow; a place George, Fred and you always used to hang out. Even since after leaving the house, you hadn't stopped crying, the emotional reunion with everybody, specially George, and the encounter with Angelina were too much for you to handle in such a short amount of time.

You couldn't say you were not surprised to see her at the Burrow, since Hermione hadn't mentioned her once in her letters, but you guessed that as you needed someone to be by your side like Dean, George needed someone too. And she had been crushing on her since his third year, so you were happy for him.

Except this was a total lie. You wanted to be happy for him, he deserved to be happy, but not with her. Ever since your years at Hogwarts she had been there to remind you how you were only the friend that nobody wanted, how you'd never be enough for anyone, specially the twins.

So the fact that she was in front of you, ready to hex you if she needed to, literally destroyed you mentally. You already knew you had fucked up things with George, and that was a conversation you needed to have with him, but you didn't need her to appear like that and talk for him, or anybody else in the house. Even though deep down, you knew she had all the rights to talk to you like that...

"Hey..."

You turn your head towards the soft voice, quickly wiping out your tears.

"Hermione! Hey..."

"Can I sit down?", she asks shyly.

"Of course you can..."

You pat next to you and she sat down. Both of you took a deep breath, looking in front of you.

"I miss our summer here...", you hear her whisper, "all gathered here, having picnics and throwing each other in the water..."

"Me too..."

Your mind wandered to all the memories you had made around the lake, all the laugh, water splashes, even minor injuries, you had made there, "It surely was great..."

"I'm sorry for Angelina... She's not... She's really protective of George, you know?", you chuckled at that, "Yeah, I can see that..."

"It's not personal-

"It has always been personal, Hermione...", you say, taking another cigarette, "But it's okay, I'm okay, really... I know I've made mistake, and I deserved it..."

"We all made mistakes...", she sighed, "After all that happened, the war... We all lost things, we all made mistakes... We all needed someone to help us heal..."

"Did you heal?", you ask.

"I think so... I still think about everything, and the ones we lost, like Remus and Tonks, Fred of course... Even Lavender sometimes... But the past is the past, unfortunately we cannot changed it... So the best was just... move on with my life and accept the fact that I'd have to live with that for the rest of my life... And Ron is great, he's amazing! He has it harder though... Because of Fred, but he's strong, he really helped everyone..."

You felt your heart crush in your chest at her words. She was right, the only thing left was move on and just live with it... Even if you didn't want to, it was the only thing to do.

"I don't know how to move on, 'Mione...", you whisper as you feel another tear roll down your cheek.

"What about Dean?"

"It's not the same... I like him, I really do...", you sigh, "But when I'm with him, something's missing... He tries! I know he does! And he's always supporting me and helping me but I feel that it's not what I need... And now it seems impossible to heal or move on... I-I just can't..."

Hermione puts her arm around your shoulder and puts your head on her shoulder, embracing you tightly.

"It's okay... I understand what you mean..."

"And I know I shouldn't have left, it's been killing me for 4 years, I should have stayed and help George, and Ron, and Ginny, and Molly and Arthur... And I left...", you didn't know why, but you needed to be blamed for what you did you needed to tell yourself that it was your fault. The way you left everyone.

"No... you did what you thought would be better for everyone, you didn't mean any harm..."

"But look at him... Look at George... Even though the rest is healing, he's not... and I could have helped him, we could've had healed together...", you cried in her arms.

"At least you're here now, Y/N... It's all that matters..."

"I miss him so much, 'Mione... Everyday I think about Fred and it hurts... So bad..."

She hold you tighter as she felt your body become weaker. She understood your pain, and she knew you needed to let it out, so she just hold you, petting your hair, not saying a word, letting you talk when you needed it and letting you cry.

After what seemed to be hours, you finally had stopped crying, still in Hermione's arms, now just talking about your years at Hogwarts... How you missed McGonagall's scolding whenever you ran through the halls, or visiting Hagrid for a cup of tea...

"Yeah... These were good years...", Hermione sighed.

"I wish we could turn back time and live all of it all over again..."

She chuckled and smiled, still looking at the lake.

"Come on, the others are probably wondering where we are...", she says, helping you get up, "And i'm keeping these!", she takes the cigarettes in your coat and shove them in hers, "Smoking is bad"

You rolled your eyes and headed up with her to the Burrow. She hadn't changed a bit, she was still the Hermione you once knew.

"Hey... We're here...", she said quietly while opening the door.

"Oh, hi, dear!", Molly exclaims warmly as she cleaned her hands on her dress.

It looked like no one was around, except for Molly, who was doing the dishes.

"Do you need help, Molly?", you ask.

"Don't worry, darling, I've got this!", she smiles, "But you should go take a rest now, it has been a long morning..."

You nodded and after giving her a hug, you made your way up to Charlie's bedroom. On your way you could see Harry and Ginny, just hanging out in her bedroom, Arthur reading a muggle book in his, and Ron napping. All of them looked peaceful and happy, perhaps you were the only one that still wasn't able to move on...

Just as you were thinking about that, you heard loud voices coming from Fred and George's old bedroom.

"... Angie, I promise I didn't know she was supposed to come..."

"4 years, George! 4 years! She disappeared and abandoned you!"

"She didn't!"

"Yes, she did! Where was she when you couldn't sleep or even look at you in the mirror?! I was there! Not her!"

"This is not what the conversation is about!"

"It is! You can't forgive her and hug her like nothing has ever happened!"

"YES I CAN!", you heard George's voice getting louder, "I need her!"

And with that, complete silence. You decided it was better to not keep listening, it was a private conversation and you've had already heard enough.

You finally reached for the doorknob of the bedroom and when you were about to open it, you heard a loud thud followed by a quiet "fuck you, George".

"Oh, great!", Angelina exclaims when opens George's door.

"Angie..."

"Not. A. Word.", she spits, "I have heard and seen enough of you"

She turns around and makes her way down to the living room.

You raise your head and exchange glances with George, who was sitting on his bed, looking completely miserable.

"Are you okay?", you ask, slowly entering his room, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-

"It's okay... Don't worry about me... She's right I suppose..."

"She is... Look, I can't explain how sorry I am... for everything, for leaving you, for not keeping in touch with you..."

He didn't say anything, he just stood up and hugged you. You had missed him so much, and it's been so long... But nothing had changed, he was still the same George, same hair, same smile, same smell...

"You're here now...", he whispers.

You stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other's company, and you could feel how he needed this hug as much as you needed it.

"Can we talk?", he says when he separates from you.

"Yes, of course!"

"I'd rather do it in private, if you're okay with it... There's a lot to talk about and I feel it won't be the same if everyone's around..."

"Yeah! I understand... Tell me when you feel like it..."

"Tonight? I don't want to rush or anything, I just need-

"Tonight is great, Georgie...", you caress his cheek.

"I missed you calling me "Georgie", he smiles, taking your hand in his. He placed a soft kiss on your knuckles and decided to go to the kitchen help his mom with the rest of the dishes, to what you decided to go to your room and take a nap.

Closing your eyes, hundreds of images of you running through the castle with the twins invaded your mind. Memories of them chasing you after pranking them, or simply trying to escape from Filch... You felt a something warm and comforting rushing through your body for the first time after what seemed to be an eternity. Perhaps being there was really what you needed to heal...

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

tag-list:

@28cnn , @lindsaytriestowrite , @jenniweaslee , @amityyyjade , @dracossimp01 , @themoonwithprophets , @hufflepuffflowers , @georgeweasley19 , @mendesdelight

#fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley smut #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley x reader

[shirtlesssammy]

4x02: Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Then:

Dean Winchester is saved

Now:

Olivia, a hunter, wakes to cold air and flickering lights. She runs for her shotgun just as Bobby leaves a message on her answering machine. 

Her EMF is going nuts as she patrols her house. Suddenly ghosts that she recognizes give her the one two punch and she’s a goner.

At Bobby’s, Dean is vehemently denying that he was “groped by an angel.” Bobby’s got lots of lore on angels, though. It seems they’re the only thing that could pull a human soul from Hell. 

Sam thinks it’s a good thing that Dean was saved “by one of the good guys.” And Dean wonders if there is a God. BABIES. Dean’s having a hard time believing there’s a god out there that personally believes in him. Oh, buddy, he cares just a little too much, I’d say. Dean’s self-loathing is off the charts though. And this is getting way ahead of myself here, but even though Chuck cares in the sense that Dean is a fun little puppet for him, it’s Cas that really cared all along. He believed in Dean so much, he gave up everything for this man. BIG SIGH. 

Dean demands pie before digging into the angel lore.

Sam runs off to forget get the pie, when he sees Ruby lurking. She wants to know if the angel stuff is real. Ruby’s scared for her demon life and takes off.

Sam gets back to Bobby’s in time for all three of them to take off to investigate why Olivia isn’t answering Bobby’s calls. Also, he forgot the pie.

They find Olivia disemboweled on her bedroom floor. And Bobby can’t get a hold of any nearby hunters. They check them out to find everyone dead. 

They need to get back to Bobby’s to regroup.

Sam’s getting gas for the Impala while Dean sleeps. He makes a pitstop in the gas station restroom. The room suddenly gets cold and Victor Henrickson appears!

He blames Sam for his death. He starts to attack Sam but Dean comes in with a save and a shotgun.

Bobby meanwhile is haunted by a couple giggling raggedy twin girls. Fun! 

Sam and Dean race back to Bobby’s. They can’t get a hold of him so they enter his house with shotguns ready. The boys separate and while Dean checks out the upstairs, Sam heads outside. 

Dean runs into the ghost of the woman who was once Meg Masters. 

She blames Dean for her possession...and Dean hates himself enough to actually believe it all. It wasn’t your fault, dude. Also, as much as they’ve learned about demon possession and all, if they would have met Meg at any point in the future, they would have just stabbed her with Ruby’s knife and she’d be dead anyway. Idk, saving people is good in theory, but hard in practice for these guys. I also know this is a manipulation. “Do you know what it’s like to be ridden for a month by pure evil?” HE DOES! Leave him alone! 

Meanwhile, Sam’s trying to find Bobby outside. He’s currently being held down by a couple scary ghost twins. 

Ghost of Meg continues to taunt Dean, and pins her sister’s suicide on him as well. MEG. NO.

Outside, Sam finds Bobby trapped in an old scrap car. He helps break him out and together they swing iron through the ghost girls. 

Dean drags himself away from Meg, and aims his gun at the iron chandelier up above. DAMN BOBBY that’s some fancy light fixture work! The chandelier smokes Meg out...for now. 

Back in Bobby’s living room, they realize that all the ghosts had a brand on their hands. Bobby hauls out the lore and leads the Winchesters down to...dun dun DUN...his safe room. 

We get the grand tour because this is the FIRST TIME WE’VE SEEN IT. This safe room has everything! Iron! Salt! Devil’s traps! Lore! Racy posters! Booze! Weapons! The vanished hopes and dreams of Dean Winchester! A cot complete with restraints! The Winchesters are impressed. 

Later, Dean breaks into a theological monologue while making salt bullets. My sweet sunshine! How dare you speak my love language! “If [God] doesn't exist...fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason - just random, horrible, evil. I get it, okay? I can roll with that. But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?” (Because, sweetie, freedom is a length of rope and God LITERALLY wants you to hang yourself with it.)

Bobby finds the brand - it’s the “mark of the witness.” They’re ghosts forced to rise and destroy people. In fact, the Rising of the Witnesses is part of an ancient prophecy. A prophecy of...DOOM. It’s a sign of the apocalypse. Dean suggests coping with a series of wish-fulfillment trips including: Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience, and the Bunny Ranch. Somebody please write me that fic. Instead of Dean’s plan, Bobby suggests running an ancient ritual to shut down the witnesses. To do so, they first have to race out of the panic room to gather ingredients before the ghosts have a chance to yank their insides outside. 

Ronald from the bank heist greets them at the stairs. Bobby blasts away Dean’s guilt ghost for him, and we cut to a montage of spell preparation. The three of them split up to fetch supplies. Ghosts appear to torment them. 

Meg appears to Sam, only she KNOWS more than she should. She knows about Sam’s fraternization with Ruby. 

In the kitchen, Victor appears to Dean. He reveals that after the Winchesters left, Lilith gruesomely tortured those left in the station for almost an hour before blowing up the place. While Dean absorbs this fun fact, Victor makes his move, plunging his hand into Dean’s chest.

Sam saves Dean just in time with a well-aimed salt round. They start the ritual, Bobby’s living room teeming with ghosts. Bobby chants while the Winchesters play shotgun whack-a-mole with the ghosts. Meg jabs a hand into Bobby’s chest. Bobby drops the bowl and Dean dives for it like it’s a football, then tosses the spell into the fire to finish the job. 

That night, Dean wakes from his slumber.

Castiel stands waiting for him (watching him sleep??) in the kitchen. He congratulates Dean on their triumph over the witnesses, and announces that he has already started doodling Mister Castiel Winchester in his notebooks! 

Dean feels a little raw about nearly dying (again) and wonders why angels are total dicks. “Read the bible,” Cas advises. “Angels are warriors of God.” Oh, and also? He’s not here to PERCH ON DEAN’S SHOULDER. Oh honey sweetie baby. 

Dean tries to read Cas the riot act and rails against God’s shitty parenting. 

Cas: The lord works…

Dean: If you say "mysterious ways" so help me, I will kick your ass

Cas warns Dean that big...no, cosmic things are afoot.

The Rising of the Witnesses is one of sixty-six seals that Lilith is busily unlocking. Each seal is a lock holding Lucifer in his cage. Dean has trouble believing that Lucifer is even REAL. Sassy Cas smiles. “Three days ago you thought there was no such thing as me.” 

Cas tells Dean that Heaven isn’t infinite. Angels have died in the battle so far, and more may be at risk. (Excuse me while I weep for the next twelve seasons. There have been 0 days since the last angel mishap.)

“You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?” Cas asks, telegraphing his series story arc. “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” Cas flaps out.

Dean wakes up for realsies. WAS IT ALL A DREAM? He asks Sam if he believes in the Devil…

You Should Show Me Some Quotes:

All I know is I was not groped by an angel

If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?

When have I ever forgotten the pie?

Where’s the pie?

I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #spn 4x02 #Are you there God It's me Dean Winchester #Victor Henriksen #ronald reznick #meg masters #supernatural season 4

[skzafterdusk]

kim seungmin + “I Love It”

This was requested from the Dean Title Track Prompt List I posted where you can pick an SKZ member and a song for a drabble fic

Word Count: 2.9k (idk if that’s considered drabble length)

Tag: kitchen sex, college!au, photographer!Seungmin

Summary: You and Seungmin rent a high-rise apartment for his birthday weekend. And, well, birthday sex...’nuff said.

You and your boyfriend checked into the apartment earlier this morning, wanting to spend some time together before he headed to the one class he had on Fridays. It was no burden to him, of course; an intermediate portrait photography course that he’s been so engrossed in.

But that only meant, shortly after you guys settled into your home for the weekend, Seungmin was pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving you there alone.

You had taken painstaking care looking for the best apartment to rent, wanting something with tons of natural light that you and Seungmin got drunk on, but also a view of your fabulous city, Seoul. This was the gift you settled on for his 20th birthday which, unfortunately, fell on a weekday where both of you would be too busy with classes. 

The view, as you hoped, was incredibly lovely. From the wall of windows in the living room, you were able to see the sun as it continued to rise over the city. It was so calming, in fact, that you decided a nap would be in order after you took the time to unpack Seungmin’s and your stuff. The close you brought, the fruits and vegetables you washed, your favourite ground coffee sat next to the coffee machine.

It’s almost as if you guys actually lived there. Having a dream be a reality for so short of time could definitely be the spark to motivate you once you had to go back to the real world. 

And so, a couple hours later, you finally went to the bedroom, laying on top of the covers so as not to disturb anything too much, and allow the unfamiliar serenity of the new place lull you to much needed rest…

Maybe you’ve been slowly coming to for some time now, the room just as silent as it had been when you fell asleep. But even with your eyes closed, the presence of another life redistributes the quiet, makes an empty space feel more full.

And it’s the familiar sound of a light shutter that makes you blink until your eyes flutter open.

The room is much warmer than it had when you initially fell asleep. Even in the shadows of the bed frame, Seungmin seems to radiate the glow like the sun that is clearly setting from the windows behind you.

And, much like you had expected, Seungmin’s white camera is in his hands, a soft smile on his lips as he inspects the photo before looking up again.

He’s crouched down so your faces almost entirely leveled, close so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“You just looked so peaceful and beautiful,” he explains. “Wanna see it?”

You lift yourself onto your elbow so you can lean forward as he shows you the camera screen. And there’s a grin on your lips before you even notice.

Despite the subject, it’s still a wonderful composition, the sun a vibrant and warm orange spilling rays through the floor to ceiling walls behind the bed. The burst floats above your darker silhouette, but your relaxed features are still distinguishable.

“I love it,” you say. Your hand is already reaching for his face, wanting to kiss him while the serenity of the moment is still present.

You both drink in the moment, both are slow to press your lips to eachother’s and even slower to pull away.

“Happy Early Birthday, Minie.”

“What do you have planned for me this weekend?”

With that question, you readjust yourself, sitting up. Seungmin follows suit, coming to sit next to you on the bed while you explain the plan for the night.

“I figured we would cook our meal for tonight. So we’ll need to go to the market to buy meat. And we can get you a cake, as well.”

With the plan set, you both went about freshening up, Seungmin wanting to rid himself of the simple clothes he’d worn to university for the day, and you adding the smallest of makeup just to make yourself more put together.

Going to the market together reminded you of when you’d first started dating, Seungmin insisting on cooking for you because you were both young college students that didn’t have the means to always eat out. When you got back to his dorm, that was when you discovered that maybe his cooking skills relied more on ambition than technique. 

Even though it’s been a year and a half, it feels like so much has gone down since then. From sharing classes to being on opposite sides of campus, from late night study dates or photography adventures, you’ve grown to know Seungmin to a point where imagining him not in your life is kind of impossible.

“I’ll start prepping the vegetables,” he states matter-of-factly once you guys are back at the apartment. By now, the sun is further behind the city. You need to turn on the ceiling lights for proper illumination, and you’re seeing this space in a (literally) new light.

“Hey,” Seungmin calls to you, putting a hand on your elbow. You realize, then, that your mind had begun to wander, staring at your reflection in the window across the room. “What are you thinking about?”

It was a commonplace question for the two of you. Similar in the way that both of you tended to stay in your own heads, you both understood that all it took was a simple question to bring you back and converse with each other. You’d be lying if you hadn’t spent some nights just appreciating that aspect alone.

When you look at him, you smile wide, quickly popping up to kiss him on the jaw.

“I’m just really happy we met.” There is no other way to put it, even if it comes out bluntly. Even though the confessions of being in love with eachother have come and gone, it wasn’t common for you to just say those words. It was said in different ways; in the way he told you to worry about an assignment late and focus on yourself now, the way you asked him about whatever project he was working on in his photography class. Sometimes, like now, though, the words just need to be said as plainly and complex as they are.

“I love you.”

With his hand still on your arm, he pulls you into his chest. “I love you,” he repeats.

The moment passes easily and smoothly, and soon the kitchen is filled with a cacophony of sounds: meat sizzling in a pan, the overhead fan whirring to combat all the steam and smoke wafting the air. A jazz playlist blares from his phone on the island. Everything is so picture perfect, you think absently.

Seongmin must think this, as well, as he holds his camera up to his eye. You don’t even know when he retrieved it, but now he’s having a shoot of his own, taking shots that you can’t fathom look all that nice, but they’re endearing.

You turn the stove off as the meat finishes cooking, impatiently grabbing a piece to taste.

“Hey! Already starting without me?” teases Seungmin as he puts his camera down.

You scoff. “Head chef always gets to taste first.” At the playful pout on your boyfriend’s lips, concede easily. “But siux chef gets to taste, too.” And you feed him a piece he eagerly takes.

You don’t even bother taking the food over to the dining table, nor do you bother with using plates and dishes. Possibly you didn’t realize how hungry you both were, but there’s something so nice about just standing there, talking in between bites, laughing about random anecdotes.

“Is it time for birthday cake?” Despite phrasing it as a question, you’re already rounding towards the refrigerator where you’d put it once you got back from the store.

There’s arms suddenly wrapping around your waist, his chin hooking on your shoulder from behind.

“We have all weekend for cake. Kinda want you for dessert.”

Despite his words, you scrunch your nose up, looking at him awkwardly from where his face is. “Your reasoning is flawed, sir. You can have me all weekend, too.”

And, really, he shouldn’t look as adorable as he does when he raises his brows and widens his eyes. “Really? All weekend? It really must be my birthday.”

Your elbow is light to jab him from behind at his cheesy words. But he only gives enough room for you to turn in his hold. Your hands slide to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers having a mind of their own as they start to play with the hair there.

“And you ‘kinda’ want me? You’re gonna have to know for sure, Min,” you playfully reprimand. 

His eyes darken, smile falling from his lips. It’s an expression that commands attention, and you obey effortlessly.

“I’m still hungry, (Y/N),” he starts, his voice low. “How about I eat you, instead?”

You hum. “Cannibalism. Sexy.”

Luckily, he doesn’t pay much attention to your words, only swoops down to pull you into a heated kiss that leaves you breathless. He’s quick to lick his tongue along your bottom lip, dives in when given the slightest entry. Even though this is nowhere near your first time, your body always ignites with desire at how strong his passion drives him forward.

You lock your arms around his neck when his grip on your waist grows stronger, begging your body to be flushed against his. Pesky clothing aside, you can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest heaves with yearning for oxygen that comes as second priority to just consuming you.

But when he does break away, it’s to switch your positions, the island digging into your lower back as he goes back in. He tilts your head, licking into your mouth behind your teeth. He swallows the moan his actions illicit. They taste sweet going down, if it wasn’t obvious by the way he does it again and again.

You beg him softly. “Do something, please.” Sometimes he makes you impatient, makes you need him now. And just as you obey him, he never denies you what you want.

A normally gentle man turns quite wild, his hands heavy as they work to rid you of your shirt and bra. Your chin tucks into your shoulder while his lips trail down the other side, biting and kissing at your exposed skin. Your half-lidded eyes catch that reflection you admired earlier. The night now almost completely blackened with a sunless sky. Even though a world lives outside that window, all you can see is the scene it showcases.

You with your man buried in your neck, his fist clenched to the edge of the counter beside you.

Just as quickly, he brings you back to this moment in your own skin when he brings his lips back to yours. Now it’s your turn to work on his shirt, immediately going for his pants next. Without much fanfare, you wrap your hand around his hardening length, feeling a chill run down your spine at the harsh gruff it sparks from his throat.

“Later,” he says after some time of you languidly squeezing him up and down. “Worry about that later. Hop on the counter.”

You listen wordlessly, pulling yourself up until you’re sat on the edge of the surface. You start with your pants as Seungmin goes to a bag sitting on the floor next to you, where he pulls out a bottle of lube.

The moments slow, or maybe you’re just so focused on your boyfriend, but every move he takes, you register it in anticipation. Even as he fills your space, somehow crowds around you, you can hear the click of the bottle cap, 

What doesn’t cross your mind is how closely he’s watching you, as well. Surely, some of it is making sure that he takes care of you, but it’s also just because you can be much more expressive than you are verbal. And it’s so delicious to watch the way your brows twitch when he slides the first finger in, quickly following with the second. 

On some other nights, he’d take his time. Maybe you can save that for tomorrow, or when you make it to the bedroom for the night. Right now, however, his thumb is already on your clit, pleasure shooting through your nerves in the best way possible. It’s the type of pleasure that brews underneath the surface, and you can feel the way it bubbles up in your core.

He opens you nice, spreading his fingers inside you while rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves. When he curls his fingers inside, you jerk forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers carding into his strands and fisting there.

He groans at the way you clench around him, the way you feel so wound up. Should he let you cum now, with his fingers alone? 

“Cum, baby. Cum for me,” he whispers into your ear. You nod senselessly, feeling your walls fight to suck him in so you can never let him go.

When your orgasm finally comes, soft whimpers tremble from your open mouth. He removes his fingers slowly, knowing you’re still sensitive.

Slowly, you come to, sensing the world around you. The jazz music still lulls on, quiet sounds of brass and string instruments. 

But you don’t want to come down so soon. So you lift your head from where it rests on his shoulder. His gaze is still lustfilled, and your muscles jump, still wanting more.

“Fuck me, please?” It comes out as a question, though you both know it’s a given. One of your hands slither between your bodies, going back to your earlier action of stroking him. He’s already hard, and your mind drifts to the thought of him fucking you. 

In that moment you take over, mind still foggy from your orgasm. You fumble for the bottle of lube, unceremoniously putting some on your hand and wrapping it around his cock to slick him up.

With his eyes clenched shut, he rests his forehead against yours, taking a second to breathe before letting you guide him inside, taking him in entirely.

And your body never gets used to him, never gets used to how he seems to encompass you, makes you forget where your body ends and his begins. He must be magical to make you incoherent in this manner.

His thrusts start off slow and hard, almost like he’s savouring the feeling of you around him. And it’s tantalizing, the way his cock feels. Your body just wants to inhale him in any way possible. So you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer so he can just grind into you. The moan you let out is long and sweet to his ears, makes him want to hear more, taste more.

You kiss as best you can, one hand digging into your waist to keep you steady, while the other makes its way between your bodies. 

“Fuck, fuck-” you moan out at the feeling of his fingers rubbing at your clit. It’s painful the way the pleasure gets dragged through you again. But you love it, love the way it confuses your senses to the point that you can’t help but breathe out an airy laugh.

“(Y/N),” groans out Seungmin into your ear. “Shit you feel so good.”

His thrusts become irregular, and soon you find yourself trying to hold off, counting down the breaths until he finally cums, fucking into you so hard that you know you’ll be able to feel him.

And when that happens, your orgasm cums out through the trembles of your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. He kisses you breathlessly as you both come down, still connected and basking in the moment of you intertwined.

When you pull back, you grin. “Happy Early Birthday,” you say again. You’re sure he’ll hear it a few times this weekend.

He smirks, finally pulling away. It always feels weird at first, to be empty. But he still remains close, and it’s enough.

“Happy, indeed.” His gaze stays on you, searching. 

It’s your turn to inquire, “What are you thinking about?”

He gives a heavy sigh, and you ready yourself for some heartfelt words that will sound incredibly cheesy.

“I think I want cake now.”

You shove his chest automatically, giggling just as he does. 

“How about we shower first. You never like the feeling of bodily fluids drying on you.”

He turns his nose up. “Why do you have to call them ‘bodily fluids’? That just sounds nasty.”

“Should I just say you need to clean your dick, then?”

Your legs feel like jelly when you slide down from the counter top, but you regain your strength quickly, walking back to the bathroom down the hall. Seungmin follows close behind, complaining about your phrasings.

When he grabs you from behind, your peripheral catches the reflection coming from the window in the bedroom. To feel so free in this way, you know this kind of life you could easily acclimate to. And just as you suspected, this is the plan for the future: to love him as he loves you, to be in your own world with him as everything around you keeps going.

Val’s Note:

Somehow this ended up being perfect timing since our Seungmin’s birthday is coming soon! It seems like the Seungmin smut tag is lacking, and I understand why. He’s normally just this adorable guy, even when he’s not meaning to be. But we’re not about to just fly by him during this era in particular??? Hello????

If you’d like to make a request for the Dean Title Track fic, you can do so, here!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #seungmin fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids headcanons

[amwritingmeta]

S15: Dean and Cas

Pardon my lateness. Life is mental at the moment! I haven’t watched 15x17 yet but hope to do so today or tomorrow. Gods preserve me, for then there will be only three more episodes left. *is this real life??*

Okay, leaving that, let’s talk about Dean and Cas, shall we? Yes, we shall!

Dean and Cas’ relationship, or rather, how they relate themselves to each other, has been in focus this season, because it’s been pivotal to both of their arcs in canonically straightforward ways. Ways so straightforward that we haven’t really seen the likes of them since S11, and with the very heavy-duty callbacks to S11 these last two episodes, it all seems quite fitting.

I mean, Jack is a bomb like Dean was a bomb and Dean got to ask Amara why she would bring Mary back, and she got to clarify she meant it as a gift, a thank you at the end of S11, because Dean didn’t blow himself to kingdom come and her along with him, because instead he realised how he could broker peace and allow for light and dark to find balance.

Which is what Dean needs to find right now.

He needs to balance out the light and dark, the masculine and the feminine, the conscious and unconscious, the ego and the shadow. He needs to balance himself out in order to let go of his fury. Why does he need that? Why would the narrative continuously hit on him needing to let go of his anger? Because that’s the reason why he was put on this journey to begin with, this slow and steady coming-of-age-coming-into-his-own progression of finding forgiveness and feeling worthy and having faith that he deserves good things.

How do we know this?

Well, arguably this season through what happens to Dean whenever he gives his fury free range, whenever he allows it to hollow out his faith, his trust, making him one-track minded, suspicious and controlling: he loses something.

He loses Cas.

This season has been all about highlighting what happens when Dean is unable to be even the slightest bit self-aware, when he veers off the path of self-acceptance. This season, Dean has had Cas disappear out of his life twice: first when Cas walked out of the bunker and second in Purgatory, when Cas went with the Leviathan. (to get them away from Dean)

The first time Dean almost lost Cas was really all about highlighting Cas’ independence (thank fuck for that), letting us see how far they’ve come in their relationship, because Dean didn’t dig himself a grave this time, perhaps having faith, in spite of it all, that Cas would come back to him, and Cas went off on his own, feeling like there was nothing left for him at the bunker when there was no forgiveness to be had from Dean.

Except, Cas thought better of it. He realised it wasn’t just on Dean to push for change—it was on him as well. And, knowing Dean, Cas had the epiphany that he would have to lead the way. 

Dean, of course, not being able to forgive and forget all that easily, needed a final push, which is why the second time he almost lost Cas was all about Dean. He had to confront his anger. He had to, because naming it and admitting it as the root cause of so many of his actions (and reactions) is a cornerstone for him to begin letting that anger go.

Almost losing Cas brought him to a moment of clarity, brought him to take a knee and admit to being wrong and offering the forgiveness he’d been holding back, because being angry is easier, especially when, it could be argued, you were beginning to feel that trust in good things lasting.

Yeah, speaking of good things lasting, it brings us to this question: Why is Dean so angry? 

He doesn’t know why (or so he claims) and he probably does need to have his eyes opened for him, the way Amara tried to open them, the way his conversation with her was a highlighter for the point he’s being pushed to finally reach in his progression: forgiving the past, embracing the present, trusting in the future and in the fact that he deserves to live a long and happy rest of his life. 

The fact that she’s completely dressed in pink - hello positive femininity representative who kicks ass and who once almost killed God and then was balanced out so that she instead healed him with her light and they twisted into dark and light smoke and went off together - is just delicious icing on the cake.

Yeah, and that’s the issue, Dean, alright, buddy?

Dean is angry because his mother died and her death meant that he lost his father too, it meant that he didn’t get to have a childhood, it meant that he stopped believing that he could have good things that would last, because of a confused sense of identity and a crippled sense of self-worth—why did bad things happen to him if he didn’t deserve it somehow?— and pushed him to mold himself into what would make him feel strong and brave: the image that his father projected. 

The soldier.

The weapon and the shield.

And now it seems Protect Sammy has morphed into Sacrifice Jack, all because Dean’s fury at Chuck’s manipulation isn’t containable, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let Chuck live. Even if it means Jack dies in the process. As Dean said to Sam in 15x16: at least it’s not them this time. 

All the while we just sit here and witness Dean morphing into the revenge thirsty spitting image of his father one last time, for one final, big ole push towards the line he’ll have to cross if he’s to finally understand once and for all where it’s actually drawn.

At Cas’ feet.

Remember back in S12, before Cas died, there was that subtle (erm) motif of pointy things going through people’s hearts from behind? Yeah. It happened twice, if I remember correctly, before the pointy end of an angel blade went through Cas’ heart and he died an angel death in the season finale.

Yeah. That.

So.

So now, in S15, we have Cas caught in a motif again, only this time Dean is right there with him, because it involves both of them. 

We’ve had anger and loss, and then honesty and forgiveness.

We’re back to anger, we’re back to Dean seeing red, blinded by it, and the only thing—we’ve been shown—that can unblind him is…?

That’s right: losing Cas.

So he will lose Cas again. We’ve been on the precepice of this as fact for a good long while now, haven’t we, my merry macarons? We have indeed! The question becomes how will Dean lose Cas again? Is Cas actually going to die? Again??

I still sincerely doubt it.

I think Cas will find another way, and that other way will equal a sacrifice on his part. His life? I mean, it could be, but what about the Empty? What about allowing himself to be happy? It could add up somehow, I guess I just can’t see it. So I think the sacrifice will somehow involve Heaven, because we know Michael will be back, and I hope it will involve Hell and all of the forces God has brought into being working against him—together.

S p e c.

Now, I’m a sadist. No, not like that -> I’m a sadist when it comes to characters. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sadist. (Misha Collins is one, as we all know) (I joke!) (down Bessie!) What I’m getting at is that I want Cas having no other recourse but to do whatever it is he’ll have to do to save Jack to, quite literally, break Dean. 

We know they’re all teary eyed in 15x18 (feels like it’s Billie whom Dean is glaring at) and we’ve seen Dean crying against a wall and omfg I want it to be explicit and over Cas. Yeah? 

We ain’t getting them driving off in the Impala together (which is fine btw because the final episode should focus on the brothers more than anything else) (I mean, a hint that they will be driving around in that Impala post season finale while Sam goes to be with Eileen would be fab, but we can only hope and wish, yeah?) (horses held), so let’s get Dean broken over thinking he’ll never see Cas again. 

Let it be done with a big fat black marker in enormous circles around his emotional state. Let him TELL Cas to stay this time, like he should’ve done when Cas walked out the door in 15x03, only for Cas to be unable to comply, because this is all to teach Dean a lesson that this is where his anger gets him, and what he needs to do to save Cas is let that anger go, stop thinking Jack is expendable, and find a better way.

I mean, this is speculation, guys. This is hoping and wishing all over this narrative. But glory effing be if it’s anywhere in the ballpark.

It would be mind-blowing if there was a God intervention of some sort, a talking down off the ledge, as it were, as per end of S11, but I’m not going to hold my breath for *rainbows*…

I’ll hold it for balance, though. :)

Cas has waited for Dean for a long time. Dean being dismissive of Cas in 15x15 can, once again— because whenever he acts like a dick it comes back to bite him on the ass (there’s a visual for you)— be looked at as part of the tapestry that makes Cas feel there’s nothing more for him but being a father to Jack. 

Dean did nothing but instill this feeling in Cas after Cas came back from the black hole that is the Empty in S13, Dean being all “You were brought back because we needed you”—Dean saying zero things about how he was basically ripping apart at the seams from the grief of losing Cas just hours before Cas made that phone call. 

And of course not. Why would Dean admit that? Even to himself, once Cas was back. 

He wouldn’t! 

Ignoring how he really feels about stuff and taking Cas for granted is kinda what he does, so back to normal it all went. So normal and so leveled out that something had to happen, right? Because, in Dean’s mind, good things don’t last.

And then Mary happened.

Oh, my heart!

And Dean went off and cried, by himself, because he still couldn’t show emotion that openly, even to the people closest to him. But he went down on his knees and he cried in Cas’ ear during that prayer, and that really was something.

That said, Mary’s death was Dean proven right once again, and this person, who is the source of faith and hope and that budding belief that maybe, this time, everything was going to actually get better and stay that way, became the target of Dean’s anger over the injustice of it all. Because Cas was the root of it. He’s always been the root of Dean’s slow-to-grow hope that could bloom into belief and trust, if he just dared let it, that he deserves to be happy.

I wrote in an ask reply that I doubt we’ll get human!Cas, but then I remembered that Cas is still status quo-ing it. It’s why he almost left the bunker without telling anyone again, that choice of skedaddling without checking in getting interrupted by Dean, and Cas being brought into a situation where he had to divulge the information, not only that he was leaving and might not make it back (Dean’s face though!), but that Jack is going through a trial that will ultimately destroy him, which was a nice shift in this dynamic of theirs.

Now, look it, the writers may end Cas’ journey on him status quo-ing it... but for the Empty. 

And I would shrug at the Empty and think, well, maybe that won’t come into play... but for the fact that the deal was brought up just a few episodes back. 

So. Happiness.  

Somehow something will need to push Cas toward a moment of happiness. And letting himself be happy is such a climactic moment for his entire journey—and look at how it perfectly mirrors what Dean is being pushed toward—that I find it difficult to see how that moment would bring an eternity in the Empty.

But I’ve written a lot of words on why I just can’t make sense of why they would choose to kill him or have his moment of happiness be tied to a narrative punishment so I’m not getting into all that again, but because both Dean and Cas are being pushed toward happiness, I’m curious to see which route the writers have chosen to take with it.

It would be thrilling and satisfying in equal measure if we finally get Dean crying over Cas, and only Cas. No filter of Bobby or Mary to take away focus and allow for an argument that he’s not actually grieving Cas. 

It would be thrilling and satisfying for it to be very baseline Just Cas. As it has been just Cas this entire season. Cas at the center of Dean’s anger. Cas at the center of Dean’s push toward healing. Cas having had enough, drawing a line—the one that is still there, at his feet—and doing what he’s always done best: calling Dean out on his bullshit behaviour. Cas making Dean put words to his anger, express forgiveness and say that he’s sorry and all within the same moment to boot.

What all this will amount to, we’ll have to wait and see. 

In a few weeks. Or next week. Or maybe there will be strong indicators where the pendulum is actually swinging in 15x17!

Holy. Hell.

But I can’t see it ending somewhere tragic. If it does, it does. And it will be what it will be. And I’ll mourn a little, and accept it and move on. But I do believe it will end somewhere hopeful. Somewhere that leaves things quite tied up, but also open to interpretation, so that we can pick and choose who ends up where and how these men decide to continue on their journeys, now that this enormous leg of their progression is done, and they’ve learned to put the past to rest.

And if S11 is anything to go by, then the echoes of that ending would be a powerful way to tie everything up, as S11 was meant to be the end of the road, until Andrew Dabb picked up the reins with an idea of how to continue the show for a few more seasons. Or so I’ve heard.

11x23 also gave us the most gloriously frustrating exchange ever written for two characters in a car. Omg. Dean we-ing the absolute hell out of his speech when it was him, he was the one, the entire time Cas was possessed by Lucifer, who insisted they make sure Cas came back unscathed. “You’re the best friend we ever had” my ass, Dean! 

I wanted to talk about Dean and Sam as well, but there’s too little time at the moment for me to write more. And it’s painful, but I have to concede or hit a wall and hitting walls fucken hurts. 

I will mention that Sam telling Dean off at the end of 15x16 still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Finally, Sam. Finally.

As ever, sprinklings of salt all over this meta and speculation, my dearlings, but omfg it’s beautiful.

Right then. I’m off to watch 15x17! Wish me luck! *gah!*

#spn 15x15 #spn 15x16 #there's SO MUCH to unpack darn it #destiel #deancas #dean #cas #spn meta #sam #jack #chuck #amara #a long and happy life #letting go #choosing happiness #trust #individuation #the symbolism is so damns strong with this one!! #masculine/feminine #carl jung #bring on the growth spurt #come on dean #you know you're ready for it!

[mummybear]

The Mechanic

This is Day 15 Of Roleplay May

Words: 3150

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Restraining With Hands, Hair Pulling, Sex On The Hood Of A Car, Oral (Male Receiving) Think That’s It.

Characters: Mechanic!Dean Winchester, Reader, Mentions Of Bobby Singer

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down you call the only mechanic you trust, but what will happen when the old man is away. Will you trust the man on the phone to help you?

You had lost count of how many times you’d been out today, it wasn’t helping that the air con in your car was broken, but you were finally on your way home and it would be time to let the weekend begin. Not that you had much planned but with the week that you’d had so far, you couldn’t wait to just relax and hang out with some friends. 

Unfortunately, this car is clearly not on your side today, because as you’re driving down a long stretch of road a loud spluttering noise comes from the engine of your car, before it slows and finally comes to a complete stop.

It was hot as hell and this was literally the last thing that you needed right now. Your shorts and tank top were doing absolutely nothing to cool you down, you could feel the sweat beading and rolling down your skin, only to get stuck on your clothing.

Seeing the smoke streaming from beneath the hood you let your car come to a stop and jump out. Swearing under your breath when you pop the hood and try and waft away the smoke. This is clearly not something that you’ll be able to deal with alone, not in a million years. You need to call Bobby, your mechanic and the only person you trusted with your car and the one and only who’d never overcharged you.

Dropping the hood back into place you sigh, going back inside your car to look for your phone. Finding it, you quickly dial the number that Bobby had given you for his garage. 

“Singer’s auto, can I help?”

The man's voice on the other end of the line is husky and deep, God help your heat addled brain right now, but dare you say he sounded sexy as hell. For the life of you though, you don’t recognise the sexy voice in question. 

That could also be because the only person you’d ever dealt with directly was Bobby, you’d never really had any need to go to or call the shop before. “I, uh. Hi, is Bobby there please?” you ask politely, stumbling over your words a little.

“No, sorry he’s actually away on business right now. Is there something that I can help with?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“I usually just deal with Bobby. But i guess it’s kind of an emergency, if you’re free then I could really use some help”

“Okay sweetheart, calm down. Just tell me where you are and what’s going on and let’s see what we can do.” 

You quickly explain the situation to him, what had happened so far with the car and how you hadn’t had any air con for the last few weeks either.

He tells you not to worry and assures you that he can help. He does seem pretty sure of what he thinks that the problem is. The call ends with the man saying that he will be on his way with the tow truck in five minutes, and that he will do all of the work that needs to be done back at the shop.

It doesn’t take him too long to get to you. Seeing the truck you recognise as Bobby’s you wave it down, arching your hand over your eyes so that you can see. The window is blacked out, so you can’t see the person driving, you move out of the road and go and stand by your car, waiting for the man to pull up in front of you. 

You watch as the truck finally comes to a stop and a tall man jumps down, booted feet hitting the floor. You just about manage to stop your jaw dropping and you can’t help but wonder, since when were male models mechanics. He was fucking gorgeous, from those startling green eyes and dirty blonde hair, all the way down to his wide shoulders and a body which you were sure to die for, unfortunately it was hidden beneath blue grease covered overalls.

“Hey! I’m Dean. I work with Bobby,” he introduces himself, wiping his hand on his leg before reaching out to shake your hand.

You realise that you’re still biting your lip, when the smile on his lips turns into more of a smirk. Summoning all of your confidence you take his hand and shake it. 

“Hey there Dean, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. Where exactly have they been hiding you?” you ask cheekily, unable to stop yourself.

Chuckling he shrugs and releases your hand, “Usually I just deal with the cars, I like to keep my hands busy,” he smirks, throwing you a wink that has you blushing more than you already are, thanks to the heat.

You watch him walk away and he starts to hook your car up to the truck, “Oh yeah, I just bet you do” you say to yourself, watching the way that the blue overalls stretch across his ass when he bends over. You’re not even trying to hide the fact that you’re checking him out, leaning against your car door with your foot kicked back and your arms across your chest.

Once your car is attached to the truck Dean wraps the top half of his overalls around his waist, showing the grease stained grey t-shirt beneath. He helps you up into the cab of the truck, before going around to the drivers side and joins you.

The drive back to the garage is short, filled with small talk, laughter and lingering looks from both of you. The air con blowing in your face is the first real break that you’ve had from the heat today and you were extremely grateful for it. As it turns out Dean was Bobby’s nephew and he’d worked with his uncle for more than fifteen years. 

You’re a little worried about how you’re gonna afford to pay for the repairs that your car needs, it has been such a long time since you’d seen it in such bad condition. Dean reaches over and rests his hand on your knee, making you look up at him. “You doin’ okay? You’re lookin’ a little lost there.” Dean asks, sounding concerned as the truck pulls up at Bobby’s garage. 

“Yeah, i’m okay. Sorry about this,” you sigh as Dean climbs out of the truck, coming around your side to help you down. 

Holding onto his shoulders he lifts you down easily, keeping his hands on your waist. “Nothing to be sorry for sweetheart, it’s my job.” 

It doesn’t take long for Dean to get your car set up and to start working on it, you watch him work, body arched as he checks under the hood, the muscles of his arms flexing and you’re really enjoying watching his ass and the muscles in his back beneath his t-shirt.

“So, Dean. How much am I gonna owe you for this?” you ask, coming to stand beside him as he continues to work.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure we can work something out.” He winks again, turning his head to look at you. God you hope that’s as dirty as it sounded.

“Really? Did you have something in mind then?” You all but purr, leaning your hip against the car as you look down at him, lip caught between your teeth.

Dean flicks his green eyes up to look at you briefly, that cocky smirk firmly in place on those plump lips of his, before focusing back on the car.

“Joking aside, Bobby already told me on the way to get you. Any work I do on your car is strictly on the house. You and the old man must really be close. He doesn’t just give out freebies.”

“That’s a shame, I really wouldn’t have minded giving you a little something for all of your hard work.” you smirk, hearing his deep chuckle as his tools hit the floor and he closes the hood of your car. 

“There, all done.” he grins, wiping his hands on the rag hanging from his tied overalls. “I’m not too good to accept the odd tip, just so you know.” 

“Well, I think that sounds fair. You really did save my ass today.” you smile leaning back against the hood of your car as he walks closer to you. 

“Would’ve been a crime not to save an ass like yours sweetheart.” 

“Wow, so we’re going full on cheesy pick up lines already huh? You’re lucky you’re hot,” you laugh, tucking your fingers into the knot in his overalls and pulling him closer. 

Dean shrugs, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth as he leans against your car, hand either side of your ass. “Is that right? Just how lucky?” 

Your other hand fists in his t-shirt and you pull him down the rest of the way, finally pressing your lips against his. Feeling his grip on your hips he lifts your ass onto the hood of your car and steps between your open legs. Your lips move away from his all too soon, dragging across his jaw and lick up his neck, tasting his salty skin on your tongue.

He groans loudly when you drag your teeth over his earlobe, “very lucky,” you whisper hotly against his ear. Dean pulls back to look into your eyes, both of you looking down to where his hands are on your t-shirt, the grease stains more obvious against the colour. “Well this is gonna have to go now,” you pout at your ruined top.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he chuckles, helping you tug your t-shirt over your head, flinging it across the room somewhere. You pull the knot loose around his waist, letting his overalls fall down to his ankles, grinning when you see he’s only wearing a thin pair of white boxers. “What? It’s hot, you said so yourself,” he defends, with that damn smirk on his lips that’s really starting to have a serious effect on you.

“You’re damn right about that,” you reply looking down at the obvious bulge in his boxers.

You burst into laughter when Dean pulls you down off the hood of the car and presses you against his chest, but the laughter soon turns into a moan when he kisses you hard. Unbuttoning your shorts Dean pulls down your zipper as his tongue slides effortlessly against yours. You slip your hand into the front of his boxers and step out of your shorts and panties, loving how he rolls his hips into your hand and groans deep in his throat. 

Dean’s skilled fingers unhook your bra effortlessly and with one small movement he drags it down your arms and tosses it away. You gasp for air when his plump lips finally pull away from yours, dragging his white teeth over your bottom lip as he does. 

Your fingers wrap around his cock as you turn both of you, gently pushing against his chest until he’s laying back on the hood of the car. “About that tip I promised you,” you smirk, licking your lips, pulling down his boxers you drop down to your knees at his feet. Parting your fingertips you look up at him, licking him from base to tip, you can already feel the slick gathering between your thighs, he’s so damn sexy you can’t believe your luck. 

Swirling your tongue around the thick head of his cock with the tip of your tongue, you watch him swallow hard as his eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck baby girl, you’ve got one hell of a mouth on you,”

You moan your reply as you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and letting your tongue move along the throbbing vein that runs almost the entire length of his cock. You don’t take your eyes off of him, those thick thighs tense beneath your hands as you bob your head over him. Every noise you make causes vibrations that only add to the sensations that you’re causing him. 

Dean cracks his eyes open and they fix on you hooded and darkened, his lips are parted as his breathing increases. Sitting up on his elbows one of his hands pushes into your hair on the top of your head and grips tightly. “You look so pretty on your knees with my cock in your mouth, shit Just like that baby,” 

You whimper around his length when the head of his cock starts bumping against the back of your throat. Your nails start to dig into his thighs as your throat relaxes, you let a hand fall between your legs and slip two fingers inside your wet pussy. You pull his cock from your mouth and gasp for breath, your chest heaving as you move your hand around his cock in time with the one between your legs.

“Want you to fuck me Dean, bend me over and make me scream,” you beg desperately, feeling your pussy flutter on your fingers and his thick length throbbing in your hand.

The wet noises filling the room only make you more desperate for release, “c’mere sweetheart, wanna see what that pussy feels like when it’s wrapped around my cock” he encourages, sitting up on the hood and taking his hand out of your hair. You release his thick length and take hold of his offered hand.

He kisses you long and hard as soon as you’re close enough, his talented tongue moving in perfect sync with your own. Picking you up easily he sits you on the hood of the car, grabbing your legs he pulls them around his waist and lines his aching cock up with your soaked entrance. “Please Dean, stop teasing,” you whine as he rocks his hips, watching his cock slip back and forth bumping against your clit with every precise movement. 

With a loud groan Dean angles his hips and thrusts forward with one sharp movement of his hips, pulling a loud scream of surprise from your lips. “Such a good girl, look at that.” He grunts, pulling almost all of the way out and then slamming back inside you, “fuck you’re tight.”

You’re clinging to his shoulders, nails biting at his skin as he picks up a steady pace which has you gasping against his lips, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours. “Oh God!” you cry out when he reaches between your legs and starts rubbing at your clit in hard fast circles.

Your hips canter upwards, trying to match his every thrust. When your pussy starts clamping down around him and Dean drops you back carefully against the hood, pushing your knees against your chest. “Come on baby girl, come all over my cock.”

His hands are rough against your skin, you can see his greasy fingerprints and handprints all over your thighs, hips and stomach. You love seeing where he’s been, his fingers tighten on your thighs as his hips speed up. 

You nod frantically as he slams into you harshly, words are completely lost on your tongue. There’s nothing for you to cling to, you can feel the slight burn of the metal under your back, so you push your hands into your hair and pull. The pain zips through your body, every nerve on edge and it finally slams into you. 

When your orgasm hits you, you hear Dean groan and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, unable to move anymore than that you shake beneath him, his strong body pining you to the hood of the car until you finally start to come down.

You’re still coming down when Dean pulls his cock from inside of you and flips you over, pressing your chest down and bending you over the hood of the car. “Oh fuck I love your ass, can’t wait to watch it bounce,” he chuckles, before pushing back inside you easily. A loud smack echoes around the room when Dean’s hand connects with the side of your ass. You spread your legs wider, hearing the man behind you groan in approval. 

Dean’s grip on your hips is bruising and feels amazing, he slowly pulls all the way out of you, so that you feel every ridge and perfect flawless inch of his thick cock. You whimper when he pushes back inside you, releasing your hips he grabs your wrists and pulls them behind your back. “Dean harder, faster, please.” 

“Oh, you’ve got it sweetheart,” he grunts, complying immediately. He slowly increases his pace, loving the way that every noise you make becomes downright pornographic the harder and faster that he thrusts. 

“Fuck yes! God! So good!” You scream loudly, not even bothering to keep yourself quiet anymore.

The sound of your ass bouncing off of his hips is mixing with every scream of his name you make, and every growl and moan that leaves Dean’s.

“So close baby, gonna fill you up!” Dean growls, leaning forward with his free hand and gripping your hair. Tugging hard he makes your back arch that much further, the ache of your hips bouncing off of the car now and then are more than worth the bliss that you’re feeling between your legs.

Dean can feel your slick leaking down his cock and balls, you’re so fucking wet, he’s never felt anything like it. Your thighs are starting to shake uncontrollably, fingers clenched into fists with his big hand wrapped around your wrists. “Come on Dean, give it to me!” 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growls. panting harshly, screwing his eyes shut when his orgasm finally hits him hard. Releasing you from his hold, his hands slam down on the hood by your head and you whimper, when his hips speed up again, feeling his come mixed with your own as it leaks down your thighs. 

Another three thrusts of his lean hips has you falling apart all over again, screaming his name as you collapse boneless against the hood. Your chest aching and your throat sore, you whimper feeling sensitive when Dean pulls his softening cock from inside you.

“You doin’ okay there sweetheart?” He asks breathlessly, as you turn to face him. He kisses you again. But this time it’s slow and short, when he pulls away he presses another quick kiss to your lips.

“Oh, I'm fantastic Dean. I think I see why they hide you out the back,” you smirk, pulling up your panties and shorts.

“That good huh?” Dean smirks, cocky look on his gorgeous face.

Biting your lip you nod, “Oh yeah, really. How about you, feeling okay?”

“Fucking amazing sweetheart, think I really needed that,” he confesses. “I tell you one thing though. If you ever break down again you call me,” Dean grins, pulling up his boxers and overalls, not bothering with his shirt.

“Oh you can more than count on it gorgeous,” you wink, giggling when he pulls you into another kiss.

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