#my friend was trying to snatch my glasses from my face and he accidentally scratched my forehead- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinpanman · 4 years

Text

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher? Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life.

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well.

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?”

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—”

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears.

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down.

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What?

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out.

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?”

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen…

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.”

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions.

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision.

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?”

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day.

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.”

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions.

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours.

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession.

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again.

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze.

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding.

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring?

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that.

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work. You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time.

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji.

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth.

Oh god.

Your brain really just went there.

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten.

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!”

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection.

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok.

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care.

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days.

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight.

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously.

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.”

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!"

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.”

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend.

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

#bts fanfic #jhope fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #jhope #hobi #jhobi #the sweetest man #how do u tag things #i can't believ ei did this #pls read ;w;#i worked hard uwu #now lemme go hide in my cave #f:it's you

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sockablock · 4 years

Text

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...?#critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

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belleta · 3 years

Text

The Forest - Part One

Consists: Supernatural, SKZ as different SN creatures, adventure, romance, drama, action, ......still trying to figure out all the details....lol XD

"Come on Y/N!", I was racing around the house. Trying to make sure I had everything for this trip. "Omg Y/N, let's GO~!" I swear to the universe she's going to thank me later. " I'm coming child!" I screamed back. Alrighty I just need my retainer. I bounded up the stairs and glided down the hallway with my cotton socks. Bursting into my room, I quickly scanned it for the sparkly emerald case. I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, "Boom!" I ran forward and snatched it off my windowsill. While leaping for my door, I paused and turned back to what I call my sanctuary. Call me paranoid but I'm kinda afraid of camping in the middle of the woods. Ever since I watched "The Blair Witch Project", I've been creeped.

It doesn't help that Jazzy forced us to watch the film, previous to this morning. I was drifting in the fairy floss clouds of my mind when a loud honk poured water on them. I sucked in a breath, blowing raspberries. Padding back over to my bedside, I grabbed my Ice Bear plushie. Giving it a quick squeeze and finally deciding that he's coming with me. Galloping back through the house, I made it out, locked the door and hopped in the back seat like a spring rabbit. "What took you so long?" I gazed up through my fringe at my girl bestie Jazmine. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair, and a mousy nose. Her blue eyes were alike with pebbles under a lake, with cheeks connected by a dash of light freckles. "I swear I just aged waiting for you" and Danny, our guy bestie. I've been best friends with Danny, since 3rd grade. Jazzy moved over during the 5th grade. All three of us have been with each other through thick and thin. Daniel was Hawaiian Japanese descent, had perfect colorful nails and absolutely gorgeous eye makeup. We were all dressed in casual, comfy clothes for the trip. Jazmine, or Jazzy as people call her, as the oldest. She was driving Danny's dad's truck. It was spacious and definitely was fit for the environment. Danny, second eldest was in shotgun and I, being the "baby", was in the back. "I was just making sure I have everything." The two rolled their eyes. Danny looked back at me "Girl, you need to chill. We've got everything and more" the boy stated. "I know, I know.....I'm just paranoid, you know.....being in the woods for a week" I looked down at my feet and played with my fingers to cover my embarressedness. "Awww, is the baby scared", Jazzy giggled, imitating a child. I swatted at her, "Let's just...finally go" I grumbled, reaching inside my bag to pull out my headphones. "Fine" they answered teasingly. While Jazzy was pulling out, I fastened myself and slid my headphones on. Bluetoothing them and unlocking my phone, I scrolled through my YouTube Music playlist finding the one named 'Bell Mix'. After that, I went back to the truffula trees and fairy floss. Just listening to my music and thinking about things. There were a couple times, where I thought I might get sick, but I had remembered my motion sickness bracelets. In your face! It's better to set out a little later, rather than having our vehicle reeking of my insides. 2 or 3 hours went by, or something. I'm not really sure, my brain doesn't really have a sense of time when I'm inside of it. We stopped to use the bathroom, get food and fuel at a gas station, maybe 2 hours away from the forest. "Can I, can I, can I, can I PLEASE?!?" I had been begging Jazzy to let me buy a bag of Haribo for 10 minutes now, and she was starting to break. I'm very persuasive as you find out, and I happen to be a very prominent weakness to many throughout my life. She finally gave in and I bounced away to the candy isle with glee and happily picked out a bag, promising to share. Jazzy just rolled her eyes and paid for our things. We trotted back to the car and continued our journey. It was nearing the end of 2pm when we finally arrived at the edge of the forest. It's lushes were absolutely perfectly splendid. The road continued for a hot minute, until it gave away to dirt and rocks. We didn't want to stray too far from the dirt road, so we slowly kept moving in until I suddenly exclaimed at the sight of a pretty little clearing. It had a few little bushes marking the edges, thick but soft looking grass, and a little dirt patch at one side that should be perfect for a firepit. We pulled over to take a look around, flattening a few bushes in the process. As soon as the truck came to a stop I shoved the door open and sprung down onto the flourishing forest floor. The first thing I did was take a deep breath to soak in the sweet scent of the untouched earth. I reached up, stretching and cracking a few of my bones in the process. Then I raced through the trees and undergrowth, toward the beautiful glade. It felt so nice to get away from civilization, I had always loved

getting away like this. Being able to recharge away from annoying people and sounds, my fears of the night were long forgotten. I was two steps away from the grass when I suddenly tripped over something. Tumbling forward and scratching my cheek. I landed on my face, but on the bright side it was luckily with no rocks around. The dirt however spared me at nothing, crawling into my fresh scrapes, was a sharp and quick stinging as I grabbed my face. "Seriously Y/N, we haven't even completely left the car yet and you've already managed to hurt yourself" Jazzy declared. Danny chimed in, "Did you hurt yourself at all?". Quickly inspecting myself, I responded "Yes, a tiny bit on my cheek, hands and knees", I could hear them muttering to themselves about how reckless I was sometimes. They started toward me and as I waited for them to catch up, I decided to look around and figure out where to put things for these next few days. While ogling the decently wide stretch that was conveniently shielded by a mighty sugar maple. I thought I saw something in the undergrowth a few meters away from me. I grabbed my glasses and narrowed my eyes, but right when I thought I saw whatever it was, two flashes shot in the opposite direction between the ferns and disappeared. They were kinda hidden but I could sorta make out one of the shapes was darker and slightly bigger. The other was a little bit easier but still was difficult, it was kinda brown, or maybe reddish? At that moment I felt two hands on my shoulders, "Let me see", it was Jazzy. She inspected my injury. "It'll be fine, just wash it off", "Okie-Dokie-Artichokie", she laughed and ruffled my hair. I gazed back at where I saw the two shapes but not even the bushes were still moving. "Hey!" I cocked my head back to the voice "Can you help me?" Danny was struggling to unpack from the back. "Sure thing Danny-O" I quickly stood up, maybe a little too quick. My vision went funny and I almost stumbled. "Oh my god Y/N! Be careful!" Jazzy scolded, "My bad!" I was a little all over the place at the moment. Finally we were on this trip! I mean, I waited 6 months for this and it's finally here! I'm not all childish, I'm actually very 4D. I'm just really excited okay? I more carefully walked back to the truck, where Danny was struggling to keep ahold of what appeared to be the tent. Over the course of the next hour and a half we set up everything. Goofing around and laughing. Danny had been pulling too hard on our sleeping bags, to wedge them out of the trunk. And had accidentally fallen onto the slightly wet dirt, causing a very prominent brown streak across his gray sweatpants and sky blue tie dye hoodie. I was currently on my way to find the stream that is supposably close by, with a screenshot of google maps and a compass. Service wasn't exactly a 5 star out here, but I didn't mind too much. I brought a portable WiFi router with me, so if Jason Vorhees just decided to pull one, we could call for help. Every so often I would hang a wooden heart ornament on one of the tree's branches, so if this was the correct way then we would never get lost. Also so that I didn't get lost right now. I had been making these last night, for these exact reasons. I swear only dumb people don't mark their surroundings, this is one of the main reasons why people disappear and are never found or get lost. There are no traces of where they've been, like these fruit loops really-...... After about another 20 meters I started hearing the sounds of water. It became louder and louder really quickly. Is there a waterfall here? I pondered, while quickening my pace with curiosity. 35 seconds later I came across a thinning in the trees and beyond a clear water stream. I finally broke out of the shelter provided from the thick leaves, the sun kissed my skin with it's warm touch. I looked around and sure enough, there was a small waterfall that looked straight out of a fairytale. It had multiple uneven levels, with smoothed boulders everywhere. And to top it all off, it had little water plants scattered around it. Absolutely

beautiful.... I scanned around and spotted a few giant boulders poking into the stream. I carefully picked my way over to them, clutching onto Danny's muddy clothes. Hopping onto the sunlight warmed stones, I positioned myself perfectly so that I could reach the water but wouldn't fall in. I reached into my pocket for my zip lock of natural soap, of course I didn't want to hurt this literally untouched land. I leaned down to dunk the fabric into the stream's crystal-like water and kneaded the brown smudge. It was decently cold, just perfect for a stream. I turned back to the small bag with a green bar wrapped with brown paper and a little herb decoration. I unzipped it and reached for a tiny hand towel I brought with me so that I would have a better grip on the soap, even if I got wet. After dunking the clothes in I took the bar of soap and swiped it all over. I dipped it into the water once to help the bubble come, then I started aggressively rubbing it. Once the outfit was foaming with suds, I slapped it into the brook. Holding onto the sleeve I rub it harshly all over to get the stains out. It was relatively still easy because the events of cause were only moments before. I was starting to disappear into my thoughts, getting deeper and deeper and deeper....... And just then a crash and from the trees, followed by snarls and barks. I was so lost in my thought that this jolted me into the canal. The water suddenly became ice cold, my scream had been washed away. A surge of water filled my lungs from the way my mouth was open to yelp. I could still hear the sounds of fighting every so often, when I would surface. My head was hurting, my skin was stinging and my lungs were screaming. Someone.....please help..... It was hurting so much, I was trying not to panic. So I could find the surface and get back to shore. I would break through it's crisp arctic clutches every so often and would cry out for help but then get cut off by the now frosty darkness. I was giving up to the stream and submitting to the coldness. Letting it swallow me whole. I was numb, I couldn't feel my body being thrown around anymore, Is this how my story ends? No! I don't want to! I still have things to do! I need to graduate, and find my passion! I need to find a man who will love me as much as I do! I need to birth young and care for them! I want to grow old with my partner happily! I can't die yet! I just can't! But it was just so cold. I had stopped moving violently, so I guess I had been poured into a lake or something. I didn't care anymore. My blood felt frozen, I couldn't even bend a finger. That's when I felt a force near me, it parted the waters. Moving me in a different direction with its power. Then not long after I felt something grab hold of me in an awkward way. I was starting to be pulled into another direction, as the water streamed around, parting to let me and whatever that was saving me through. Then I broke through the surface and that was the last thing I felt before slipping into a comfy unconsciousness.

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sexysilverstrider · 3 years

Text

Icy Jealousy (Kaelumi)

Kaeya was never much of a jealous person.

He had his own ideals to chase. His own agendas to fulfil. He had no time to indulge in such trivial matters. He may have a fling every now and then, but all that would be snipped away in a blink of an eye before any of his playful encounters could even take a glance at his guarded heart.

Kaeya had no need to be worried about such mindless—laughable, even—matters.

That was…until she came into his life.

----------

At first it was her encounter with the mysterious bard. Venti was ever so joyful, ever so clingy. While looking as innocent as any child, Kaeya would be a fool to think the bard was anything of the sort. Clearly there was something more when he looked at him, and oftentimes Kaeya wanted to subtly interrogate the youthful boy. Who knows? Maybe the many information Venti held might be of some use to his grand agenda.

Well, that was the initial plan.

“Lumine!”

To see Venti clinging to Lumine’s arm, Kaeya soon realized that he wished to interrogate the bard for an entirely different reason.

Shock jumped her shoulders at the playful embrace on her right arm. “Geez, Venti!” Her head turned to the side, lips pulling a pout to see him. “Don’t startle me. If I was any more surprised, I might accidentally punch you as a reaction.”

Her mild threat didn’t even faze him. “Ehee,” he chuckled, smile as guiltless as his response. “Sorry, Lumine.” His slid a few steps back, though arms now wrapped around her right arm. “Care to join me for a drink? I heard Diluc had some really great wine brought in today?”

Her pout softened to a smile. A sigh came out next. “If you’re paying.”

“I got that covered!” Clearly, he did not.

Nevertheless, arm in arm, they walked towards their destination. Laughter and conversation bubbled between them as they shared stories of her journeys and his travels.

Kaeya only watched from a few steps afar, silent and analytical.

The smirk he wore bore such ill will. Maybe he should pay a visit to the tavern today.

----------

Sometimes, Kaeya had the pleasure of joining her in her little adventures. Whenever she set foot in Mondstadt, Lumine never missed the chance of paying a visit to the knights of Favonius. Kaeya—much to his silent glee—was one of them. The delight only heightened when he managed to squeeze time in his busy schedule to accompany her during commission work.

In truth, he either changed his knightly tasks to ‘Team Up with Lumine’ or ignore his work assignments entirely.

He could apologize to Jean later.

During their travels, Kaeya got to a side of Lumine he rarely saw back in Mondstadt. He saw how fearless, how vigorous, and at times how reckless even to see her in action. Her plans were oftentimes near to perfection. Her movements were like wind itself, rising and soaring as she threw her enemies afar. The more he looked at her, the more he observed her, Kaeya knew he was walking on dangerous territory to regard her in such a…vulnerable way.

He also knew that he wasn’t alone in this matter.

“Lumine.”

His calm voice caught her attention. Dissolving her sword back to nonexistence, she turned her heel. “Yes, Razor?” Her smile beamed upon the rugged boy. Kaeya only stood next to her, a single eyebrow raised in silent curiosity.

Razor’s whole focus was on Lumine only. “Your hand.” Without hesitation, he held her left wrist. “Hurt.” Carefully he turned her hand, revealing a small gash on her palm.

As adrenaline slowly eased off from her, realization finally acknowledged the numbing pain. “Oh—ah!” One eye closed as she flinched. A chuckle slipped out like a child in trouble, Lumine scratched the side of her neck with her other hand. “I didn’t realize tha—”

Slurp.

Not only the traveler, but shock was clear as day in the knight-captain’s eye.

The pain was brief, but amber eyes were round as they could be due to a different kind of reaction. “R-Razor—?!” A squeak peeped as she felt his tongue on her palm again. The blood on her skin was slowly being licked away, the pressure stinging her quite a bit but warming her face most definitely.

“I clean.” Razor merely stated, head lowered to her hand and tongue once again ready to wipe the blood clean.

…That was…until he felt her hand being snatched away from him.

Crimson eyes quickly glared at the man next to her.

Kaeya didn’t say a word, yet a smile was evident, its curve so laced with malice and indignation. A growl echoed in the barren battlefield; he couldn’t tell whether the sound came from the boy or himself.

----------

The months where he hadn’t seen Lumine were apparently the worse.

Kaeya had bid his farewells. He had wished her journey a safe one. He had other duties to attend too. And she clearly had her brother to find. He knew this would be a short-lived rela—friendship, and Kaeya had set it clear in his mind that she wouldn’t stay with hi—in Mondstadt—for long.

It seemed his heart didn’t get the memo.

Thankfully, after nearly 6 months of not seeing her, Lumine actually came back. She informed Jean that she dropped by for a visit, saying even that she missed Monndstadt and its people after months of being away.

When Kaeya heard of it, it truly made his heart flutter.

When he saw her new companion, however, it truly made his heart burn.

Zhongli only watched silently as Venti and Lumine shared stories. Happiness bloomed within the ex-archon to see his old friend. Venti was still as witty, was still as cunning, and he found it amusing that the now bard immediately hid behind Lumine the moment they reunited.

“Just making sure.” A single chuckle held being thinned lips as he brought the scene to his mind. Golden eyes then spotted some strands of Lumine’s hair dangling by the side of her face. They swayed and brushed across her left ear, catching his attention like a cat to a ball of yarn.

Without a word, Zhongli casually slipped through those beautiful locks with his fingers and gently tucked them behind her ear.

The simple action surely made Lumine flinch. Quickly she looked to the side, amber eyes wide and face quite warm from the gentle contact.

Upon seeing what he assumed was a mistake, Zhongli quickly let out a short cough. “Apologies, Lumine.” He placed his cup down onto the table. “Your hair is just simply mesmerizing, I couldn’t help myself.” Honesty was his virtue, and the Geo archon simply gifted the surprised traveler a warm smile.

Her face felt hotter, it seemed. “It’s okay, Zhongli.” She laughed it off, one hand on her cheek. “I just felt ticklish is all.” The conversation was then cut short to Venti’s sly chuckle, bringing both human and makeshift human back to the reality that they were not alone. Zhongli merely continued indulging in his tea, while Lumine rolled her eyes and teased the bard with many comebacks that she learned from her journey.

While the scene played out like rainbows and sunshine, the even happening in the bar was anything but.

“Oi,” Diluc interjected, “can you stop trying to shatter my glass? If you wanted some frozen popsicles, go to the dessert stall down the street.” His tongue clicked as crimson eyes glared at the man sitting across him.

Azure gaze, cold and icy like the element, kept its focus on the trio.

“Ah,” Kaeya simply, finally, responded. Fingers released the glass he had clutched. Flakes of ice and snow now enveloped the clear glassware, almost revealing cracks as the liquor inside of it had turned to solid ice.

He turned to face the pyro user. His lips formed a smile, the corners swirled to a sinister curve that rivalled the spine-chilling element on his fingertips. “Sorry, dear Diluc.” He straightened his back, smile still forced in its place. “Would you be so kind as to warm my drink up?”

“I’d rather burn you to the ground.”

Her laughter echoed the second Diluc gave his blunt remark. Her laughter alone was enough to snatch every single attention Kaeya had.

Her laughter alone was enough to ignite a monstrous flame within his chest.

“Kaeya!” Anger fumed when Diluc saw the plane of ice on the bar. It seemed that the knight-captain truly wanted to be turned to ashes.

----------

After a week of contemplating—both his heart and his mind—Kaeya decided to do the one thing that would surely piss Jean off.

In truth, he actually enjoyed traveling with Lumine and her companions. The adventure took his mind off things. The countless dangerous encounters lit a fire within him. While the Knights of Favonius had special training for those with visions, nothing beat an actual face-to-face against inhuman enemies in order to test his elemental strengths and skills. It truly helped that Kaeya got to see Lumine in action as well, more so than he usually did in the past.

She was still the same. Reckless but calculating. Gentle but rough. It seemed she had obtained the Geo elemental as well, much to his silent surprise. While Lisa did inform him before that the traveler did not possess a vision, to see her wield both Anemo and Geo further piqued his curiosity and interest about her.

Well, he knew the secret to her power was only half of his genuine interest. The other half was…something Kaeya still chose not to disclose, be it to her or himself.

After nearly weeks of camping, they finally decided to rest in Wangshu Inn. It seemed like a giant treehouse, Kaeya mentally noted, and he was widely impressed at how sturdy the structure was despite the amount of people and chaos inside it. Zhongli suggested they rested here for a couple of nights while they restock on some resources and weapons. And although Lumine and Paimon agreed to it, Kaeya soon realized that the ones doing the payment was Lumine herself.

Like a gentleman, Kaeya paid for his room, of course—and Razor’s too since he warmed up to the young wolf boy during their journey.

Night dawned upon them, and it was the most beautiful Kaeya had ever seen. Granted, Mondstadt was glorious with its lights and grandeur, but nothing could compare to the beauty nature had exposed before them. The gleaming line of lit lanterns truly complimented the sky above. And for once in his life, he truly felt at peace.

That was…until azure eye spotted the target of his affections talking to someone new.

“How do you like your almond tofu?” Lumine asked, head tilted slightly as she looked at the quiet adepti. Xiao merely nodded, gaze on his food and attention trying its best to focus on the delicacy.

Her laugh was slowly breaking his concentration, however.

“Hmm…” Slowly he swallowed, then huffed out single sigh. The distance between them wasn’t as far, but it wasn’t as close either. As Lumine rested her arms against the wooden rail of the balcony, Xiao only stood perfectly still with the warm plate still in his hand. He was highly aware of the small distance between them, and this also made him aware of the warmth that slowly seeped into his skin.

He still refused to move from his single spot.

“Good…” Whether the answer was for the food or the moment they were having, neither could tell.

As the two enjoyed their peaceful night, one lone man stood from afar, his breathing exhaled in low specks of a chilly breeze.

----------

Finally, after 2 months of travelling, they finally arrived in Liyue. The place was gorgeous, Kaeya couldn’t lie. It seemed that the city was Zhongli’s birthplace—"or something like that,” as explained by Venti. The reason of them coming back to the land was because Zhongli had to attend to his own work matter.

Kaeya wanted to comment on it, but he decided to bite his tongue when he was reminded that he too somewhat shirked his duties to be closer to Lumine.

He was happy that he finally got to spend time with her. Like a holiday of sorts. While Paimon of course oftentimes clung to her like glue, Kaeya still managed to trick the floating creature with some delicious delicacies in any nearby restaurant. Even Razor couldn’t be seen, as Lumine informed Kaeya that the wolf boy preferred the wild environment, so he made camp in an area not too far from the city so he could come as soon as possible when she calls for him.

Yes. It truly was the perfect moment for Kaeya to get closer to Lumine.

…Or so he thought.

“Ojou-chaaan,” Her name lulled in a singsong tune, she felt her shoulders being firmly hugged by someone whom brought a huge sigh off her chest.

“Now, now.” Faking an offended expression, Childe placed one hand on his chest. “I’m only here to fight my favourite comrade!”

Slap. Without haste, she slapped his hands away from her. “I’m busy, Childe.”

“Oh?” He didn’t take offense at all. “You don’t look busy.” He walked beside her. The more she picked up the pace, the more he followed it.

Deciding that running would only encourage the harbinger even more, Lumine finally slowed down. She knew he was a very, very persistent man. So with another sigh leaving her lips, she shot a glare at him.

His eerie smile became a lovely match.

“I am busy.” Amber eyes looked at the list in her right hand. “I’m searching for stuff and things to buy before we head out. Unlike you—” Another glare was given.”—who seem like he has a lot of free time in the world, I need to keep on moving to complete my mission.”

The ‘mission’ she firmly stated was something they both knew was a delicate topic, so Childe decided go against asking it further.

Instead, he still made it worse. “Oh? I’m always busy, ojou-chan.” Lower lip pulled to a playful pout. The back of his hand dramatically moved to his forehead. “Can’t you see how tired I am? I am absolutely fatigued by the amount of work my stupid co-workers have put me through.”

“If you’re tired, then why the stars do you insist on battling with me today?”

Lumine honestly expected his playful banter. She had prepared a retort. Her mind had generated words that would surely put him into a stupor.

What she didn’t expect was her left arm to be pulled and her body being turned to the side.

Amber eyes were wide. Everything happened so fast as the traveler then felt her chin being tipped upwards from a single finger.

“Because…” A voice, lulled so close and so deep, brushed her pink lips. “Battling with you is never tiring.” Cobalt blue eyes were as striking as the deepest oceans. “Every time I see you…” His gaze lingered. His voice lowered. “I have this urge to just mess—” His right hand that held her left arm moved down… “—you—” And down… “—up…” Palm pressed firmly against the side of her waist—

Shing!

Pupils shot to the side the moment he felt a cold breeze. Instincts kicking in fast, Childe immediately released his hold on her and slid a few steps back. In a flash, he summoned his water blades, expression masked to one of annoyance. Luckily, the ice shard—he soon realized—missed him by a hair’s breadth. The back of his hand still felt the chill, and this only made him tighten his hold.

In truth, Lumine was ready to summon her own wind element to whoosh the fatui away. As hot as her face felt right now, it seemed that shock still kept hold of her heart and mind as she felt her body being pulled yet again.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry I’m late, Lumine.” She recognized that voice anywhere.

One hand around her shoulders, Kaeya graced the harbinger before him with the cruellest, most sinister smile one had ever seen. Though sword not in sight in fear that he might cause enough attention than he already had, Kaeya still stretched his left hand forward. Tiny sparks of ice danced across his fingertips, spiralling small swirls towards his target.

Fear was never present in Childe’s eyes.

“Ojou-chan,” he called for her, voice light with poison, “it seems you have something stuck on you. Need me to take care of it?” While his grand scheme was to have a duel with her, Childe honestly didn’t mind a warm-up. White teeth gleamed under the sun’s rays. Gaze never torn from the traveler’s stunned face.

He was mocking her; Kaeya knew this. “Oya, oya.” A single laugh chilled the Liyue air. “Underestimating me, aren’t you? That’s fine.” While true, his past self did choose to not summon his sword, “I always love to see my enemies being horribly humiliated.” his present self now had other plans.

The sword breezed and solidified into his hands in a blink. To see the tip of a sharp weapon right in front of him, it only infuriated and excited Childe even further. A gust of ice and a burst of water formed around them, quickly and surely attracting an audience that feared for the sudden animosity.

Both were ready to fight. Both were ready to spill blood.

“That—”

Both…

“—is enough!”

…were now being blown away straight to a nearby lake by a powerful tornado.

----------

It had almost been a year since Lumine’s presence. Almost a year since she changed the lives of many. Her mission was still ongoing. The search for her brother was still top priority on her list. But in her many adventures, her presence did bring joy and hope some thought they had lost forever.

“Diluc! One more please!”

It seemed that he was part of the ‘some’, after all.

“Isn’t this your third glass?” A single eyebrow raised. He watched as she giggled shyly, one finger pushing the strand of blonde locks behind her ear.

Cute. He understood why Kaeya of all people was struggling when it comes to her.

“Ma-aybe,” she hiccupped, one hand then quickly cupping her mouth.

Really cute. He understood why Kaeya had oftentimes lost his cool around her.

Coughing once, Lumine cocked her head in pride. “It’s a party. No harm in celebrating once in a while. Besides, I still have some senses left in me.” Her smile shined as bright as the flames of his element. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she then looked around. “Hmm, where’s Kaeya?”

If not for the many years of masking his emotions so perfectly, Diluc would raise his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t know,” he bluntly replied, hands continued to wipe and clean a wineglass.

Crimson eyes observed as her mouth pulled a frown.

“He was here a minute ago…” She seemed sullen? Crestfallen? Disappointed? The change of tone in her voice evoked a glint of surprise in his eyes. While Kaeya was a master of faking his emotions as he was a master of hiding his, Diluc knew his bro—the annoying cavalry captain lately had a hard time keeping his feelings in check when Lumine becomes the matter. As surprising as it was at first, Diluc soon registered the fact that there was another person—other than him—that could shake the cryo user.

This was getting more and more amusing, he thought.

“The fool might be dead in the upstairs balcony.”

The statement caught her attention. “Oh?” The pep in her voice was back. Whether it was from the alcohol or the excitement itself, it was clear that Lumine didn’t bother to hide her glee. She beamed as Diluc resumed his cleaning, ignoring her altogether as a sign that he wasn’t going to say any further.

That was enough for her. “Thank you, Diluc!” Smile as bright as the sun, she quickly made way to the balcony on the second floor.

As he watched her disappear into the crowd, a simple twitch of his lips curled upwards.

----------

Kaeya always loved watching the stars and moon.

It was peaceful. Breath-taking. Calming. He was able to register his thoughts and recollect his mind every time he was alone with the twinkling lights. The wineglass in his hand was brought up, swirled gently before he sipped the final contents of his drink.

Through the haze of his intoxication, his mind wandered to her.

“Heh…” Lips curled to a derisive smirk. How cruel, he thought, that she still invaded his mind after all these months. When Kaeya decided to come back to Mondstadt due to knightly matters, he assumed that maybe, just maybe, a few more months of avoiding her would be the key to finally take all of this as some harmless crush.

Alas, as the months rolled by without him being able to see her, it turns out it wasn’t harmless nor a crush.

His arms leaned heavily against the rails of the balcony. And now that she came back to celebrate Jean’s achievements—and to thank her for all she had done—Kaeya finally had a chance to talk to Lumine. He finally had the chance to see her. He finally had the opportunity to catch up with her without the noisy company of others.

He honestly didn’t mind Paimon. He did however mind a lot about her choice of human companions.

He should treat her to lunch and catch up. But no. Instead, he made her do a taxing errand of preparing the feast for the party, while he had other separate matters to attend to.

At times like these, he truly felt like a fool.

The party had started an hour ago, and he did compliment her for being the mastermind of the surprise party. While in truth, it was his idea, Kaeya felt it more appropriate for the Honorary Knight to take in all the glory while he basked in the shadows.

Heh. How fitting it seemed that he never changed.

“Kaeya?”

Not realizing that he had his eye closed all this time, Kaeya snapped it open before turning around. “Lumine!” Shock was present on his face, but the cryo user quickly mellowed it with a perfectly curled smile. “Now, what do I have the pleasure to see Honorary Knight out here tonight?” His back leaned against the rail, wineglass already placed on the small table next to him.

Her response wasn’t immediate. Nor was it verbal. Instead, she gave a smile, one so sincere and endearing, he almost gripped the rail tightly.

“I was looking for you.”

Her simple answer shook him once again. Azure eye widened in shock. Lips firmly pressed to hide the emotion that fizzled within him. “Oh ho?” he chimed, the corner of his lips curled slightly. “I didn’t know I was missed.”

“You are.”

Her blunt answers were getting better and better. And this truly did not fare well on his end.

Finally, he was out of words for a short while. And it was that short while that Lumine decided to move forward and stand next to him. Pride itched at her brain to know that she was able to make the cavalry knight speechless. It seems there were many benefits to having countless banters with Paimon and Childe.

“I mean…” However, embarrassment followed suit at the realization of her words. “I didn’t see you much at the party so…” While common sense still held her by the reins, Lumine wondered if the fast beat of her heart right now was the cause of the man next to him.

In truth, a huge part of her hoped so.

“I asked Diluc and he said that you might be passed out in the cold here.”

A single chuckle burst past his lips. “How sweet that he cares.” He looked to his side, memorizing every shape of her presence. “How sweeter that you care, my dear.”

A single eyeroll was given. “I do care, though.” Her reply once again stunned him; she was getting better at reading his emotions too. “I…I know you’ve been through a lot, especially with Diluc so…”

“Ah…” He cut her off, partly in realization and the other part to silently signal her to not continue it further. It seems that he had forgotten for a brief moment that he told her of his past. Months and months of travelling together seems to make a person’s lips looser. It was clear that he trusted her, as much as his heart could dangerously handle. And in turn, Kaeya gave her the reason to trust him.

Which was also a much worse issue, considering that his role and lies still hang heavily around his neck.

The smile on his face mellowed. Slowly he turned around, head cocked upwards to gaze at the night sky. “Pretty night, isn’t it?”

She turned around too, though head tilted in his direction. A frown graced her face. Heat kissed her cheeks despite the cold breeze that caressed her body. “Kaeya—”

“Where are you going next?”

Roles were now in reverse as the question caught him off guard. “Sorry?”

“Your next destination, Lumine.” Their eyes met. “Surely, you’re not going to make me hope that you might stick around longer?” The question laced with sweet toxicity, Kaeya let out another chuckle. “As happy as I am to see you back here, I know you’re on a mission to reunite with your brother.”

His voice was soft, gentle. His expression bared a smile that strained his face.

It hurt to watch.

“Soon…” The reply was meek. Hands held the wooden rail. Amber eyes gazed downwards the people below. “I’ll go to Inazuma in the next 3 days.” Fingers slowly fiddled with one another. “The ship will depart on that day. So…I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit Mondstadt again…”

Crack.

Azure eye dulled as he ignored the pain in his chest.

“I see.” was his only response. Slowly he nodded, mouth thinning to hold back the smile that was faltering. “Well,” One hand moved to her, wavered, hesitant, before he patted her shoulder. “I wish you all the best, Lumine.”

Crack.

A deep breath was taken to gulp back the cracks left in her chest.

Hands slowly cupped together. Tightly. “Actually, I was wondering…” There was a reason she came looking for him. There was a reason she came back to Mondstadt before her next journey. One breath. Two. She closed her eyes before recollecting her thoughts that would soon slur into verbal words.

She felt his hand pull away. She hated that.

“I want—” With a heart that wanted to burst out of her ribcage, Lumine took the hand that was pulled away. “—you to join me!”

Shock was the star of the show in the brilliant evening. One gawked at her as if she grew a second head. The other gasped in silence as if what she had just said was near to impossible.

When she thought about, considering his role in Mondstadt, it might as well be.

The grip on his left hand tightened.

“I…” It was now or never. “I had so much fun travelling with you. It was never a dull moment.” Her head was down. “When we did all those commissions and strange requests, you always had a plan ready. When we were battling the powerful enemies, you always had my back. When I felt down and out of it, you were always there to cheer me up!” Her hands shook. “I—when we went to Dragonspine, you tried your best to find warm shelter to keep everyone warm even though fire isn’t actually your forte.” Archons, she would never forget how grateful she was to have him endure the frigid cold of such an unforgivable place.

His hand felt warm.

“We fought side by side all these months and I—” Couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget him. “I…” Anxiety kicked in the more she stuttered. Forcing another gulp, Lumine let out a sharp sigh. “Having you so close to me made me realize how much I need you.”

Blue bangs shielded his eye.

“Waking up and seeing you bond with Paimon and Razor and everyone else first thing in the morning made me realize how much I miss those moments.”

Lips were slightly parted.

“And…” She could do this. “The night that we opened up about our brothers—” She heard a sharp breath. “—that was…truly a night that I felt closest to you.” She felt her hands shake. “I like that. I love that.” There was a reason why she chose to drink more than she could handle tonight—

“I love—”

“Lumine.”

Her shoulders flinched. At the same time his voice startled her, she gaped as she watched his hands slip away from her grasp. She froze as she felt those same hands cup her cheeks.

“Lumine…”

His voice was silky smooth, caressing her very skin that sent prickles up to the back of her neck. She blinked once. Twice. Lumine then moved her head upwards by the gentle gesture of his hands—

Chup…

Amber eyes were as wide as they could be.

His lips were soft, sweet, slightly sour with a taste of tangy citrus. While bafflement had her vision open and clear, his eye was closed.

One heartbeat. Two.

Realization knocked him hard at the back of his head.

Quickly his eye snapped open. Immediately he pulled back. “I—!” Hands moved from cheeks to shoulders. It seems that the wine he drank had finally took control of his body. When he listened to her request, Kaeya could only feel his body float like a cloud. When he heard her explanation, he could only feel his heart clawing right out of his throat.

Love. When he heard that word, that one word, he couldn’t help but to succumb to the feelings he had long tried to destroy.

He gaped at her. She gawked at him. “Ahaa…” Defeat and shame poured down on him. “Sorry, Lumine.” Now he had done it. “I had uh…too much to drink tonight.” Now he had perfectly fucked this up.

He should leave. He should walk away. Being here with her was a mistake. Holding her by the shoulders was a mistake. Feeling her warmth, remembering the luscious shape of her lips was definitely, definitely, a mistake—

“Gaack—!”

Chuu!

Words, panics, and fears dissipated like hot steam once he felt the front of his shirt being tugged, once he felt those lips he so dearly missed pressed hard against his.

This time, her eyes were closed shut. This time his eye was wide as saucers.

However, bafflement didn’t linger too long, as Kaeya fully registered the moment with an open heart and an open mouth.

Quickly his eye closed. Hands now moved around her waist, tickling her in the process that Lumine actually wiggled in his embrace. Cute. The word beaming like a beacon, he pulled her flushed against his chest. Cute! Cute! His tongue found and caressed her own, tangling together until breaths became heavy in their lungs. Cute, cute, cute! With ease, Kaeya moved his hands downwards and lifted her up. It seems that the alcohol took hold of her mind too, as Lumine happily wrapped her legs around his waist as she pressed closer.

Chu! Chuu…chup! Apart they broke for a mere second. Chuuu! Together they kissed again before either could regain proper vision. Her hands tugged and brushed through long, silky blue hair. His hands squeezed and gripped her soft, scarred thighs.

Pop!

If it weren’t for the fact that they needed air, they knew there would be no end to this.

Pants, heavy and warm, stroked each other’s faces. A gaze of pure stupor was given to a face of sheer shock. Red kissed their cheeks as if the sun had grazed them. Heartbeats pumped hard and fast against flushed chests.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

After the third beat, realization dawned on them like cold water.

“Ah—” Both stumbled. Quickly Lumine released her grip and stood in a shaky stance. She kept hold on his shoulders, fearing that the intense moment would make her lose her posture. His hands slid upwards to her waist, his grip not longer rough yet palms pressed firmly on her body.

They didn’t show any signs of letting each other go.

Her head dropped. Should she apologize? Should she forgive? Should she say something to dispel this awkward situation that bloomed between them?

But he did kiss her, though. And while Kaeya had been on her mind all these months since their journey together, never had she thought that her feelings would be requited. She felt giddy. Anxious. A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside her to know, to see, to feel, that the dashing cavalry knight would harbour such feelings for—

“Lumine…”

A single gulp slid down a dry throat.

She cast a peek. Heat burned to the tips of her ears, Lumine found it wise to not say anything yet.

She was too cute, he gushed.

“Pushing aside our little…session, which I find absolutely amazing, by the way.” He gently pulled her closer. “I want to answer your request.”

Her finger unintentionally squeezed his shoulders.

“Lumine…” His voice lowered to a husky whisper, so loving, so sweet. “I would love to join you to Inazuma.” To join you anywhere.

His answer lit up a spark of joy on her face. Quickly, finally, she brought her head upwards. “Really—?”

Chu.

Glee burst to shock at the feel of his lips.

“Kaeya!” Instinctively she pulled back, pupils blown in pure embarrassment over his tease.

Laughter echoed the bright night. While Kaeya was infamous for masking his emotions, the laugh he burst out was both genuine and filled with absolute glee.

How mesmerized she felt to witness such beauty.

“Geez…” Quivered lips pressed a shaky smile. Playfully jabbing his chest once, Lumine then wrapped her arms around his chest. “I have to get used to this, huh?” A sheepish mumble left her lips. Her left cheek nuzzled against his warm chest.

A peaceful sigh left her to feel fingers tickling her back.

“Pretty much.” Happy. “You wanted me to tag along. You pay the price, my dear.” It felt so sinful to be this happy. He nuzzled the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of windwheel aster and vanilla that he so dearly loved.

It seems his silly jealousy was—after all—silly.

Finally, her laughter joined his. The two relished in their embrace, making the stars and the moon their witness of the very start of their ever after.

END

#Kaelumi #Kaeya #Lumine #Childe #Genshin Impact #Diluc #Venti #Razor #Zhongli #i forgot to post this here lmaooo #my longest kaelumi yet #Xiao #i forgot xiao kjfbsdkjfbkdsjf #fafar writes

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

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Can’t Lie to You

Pairing: Nick Scratch x warlock!male!reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Nick x warlock male reader where the reader is best friends with Nick since childhood and is in love with nick but never acts on it. One day the reader accidentally drinks a truth potion meant for Nick and no matter what he has to tell the truth. Sabrina asks the reader why would he do that and admis his feels then runs from the school for a week before nick finds him and confronts him and then they get together”

__________________________________________________________

The day you ruined your life started the same way as any other; with you dropping heavily into the seat next to your best friend at your usual table in the Great Hall of the Academy of Unseen Arts and ruffling his hair playfully.

“Good morning, (M/N),” Nick let out a tortured sigh but grinned at you, nonetheless, rolling his eyes at your dramatics before returning to his conversation with Sabrina next to him.

You grinned back at him before turning your eyes to your plate in front of you. You’d been just about to start eating when you noticed the look on Prudence’s face where she sat across from you. She was smiling widely, her sisters whispering conspiratorially on either side of her, a strange glint in their eyes. You hesitated, following her gaze to Nick’s glass of juice, sitting untouched in front of him.

Just then, Nick reached out for the glass and you found yourself acting without thinking, reaching out to snatch the glass from him. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask what exactly you thought you were doing, but it was too late, you’d already downed his glass of juice, along with whatever the weird sisters had slipped into it.

Sabrina looked stunned, peering past Nick’s shoulder so she could see you, “(M/N), what was that about? I’ve seen you steal food from Nick’s plate before, but never like that.”

You winced a little, the flavor of whatever they’d laced his drink with laying bitter against your tongue. “They put something in it,” you muttered, jerking your head toward the trio of girls. They didn’t even have the sense to look ashamed, just intrigued. “I don’t trust them, so I drank it before he could.” That was… weird. You were never normally someone to admit that you mistrusted someone out loud, but once you had opened your mouth it was almost like you couldn’t stop saying what you were thinking. But that wouldn’t be the case unless- oh no.

“Why would you do that?” Nick asked, dark onyx eyes fixed on yours curiously. “It’s not like they were going to poison me or anything.” He paused, shooting them a hesitant look, “Well, not in public anyway.”

“I’d do anything for you, dude.” The answer came easily, unbidden but undeniable. “I care too much about you to let those snakes do anything to hurt you.”

“Snakes?” Prudence rolled her eyes, darkly painted lips twitching up into a taunting smirk. “Snakes we may be, but at least we aren’t liars, (M/N).”

Nick looked confused, eyes darting between the two of you. “What’s she talking about?”

“No,” Your face fell, realizing that you’d fallen straight into her trap. The potion had never been meant for Nick; it had been for you. They’d known that you’d take it to save Nick, and now she was going to force you to admit the one thing you’d hidden from Nick. “Prudence, please.”

She looked contemplatively at you for a long moment before her smirk deepened, “(M/N), tell me, how do you really feel about Nicholas Scratch?”

You bit hard into your lip, trying to fight back your answer. There were rumors that some truth potions could be negated by enough will power, but with one brewed by Prudence? Your hands shook with the effort to restrain yourself, but eventually the answer tore its way from your lips. “I’m in love with him.” As soon as you’d said it, you clamped a hand over your mouth like you could cram the words back in. “I have to go,” you muttered quickly, pushing to your feet and fleeing the scene as quickly as you could, abandoning your breakfast and leaving your best friend shell-shocked and staring after you.

-----------

In some ways, the week had passed quickly for Nick. It was the middle of the term and most teachers were giving exams, so he was kept busy, but it also dragged on unyieldingly since Nick had been unable to find his best friend after his confession.

And then the answer was presented to him in the form of Sabrina talking on her phone to one of her human friends, mentioning off handedly that one of her friends had been hiding out in his dorm room all week after taking a truth potion.

Once he knew where to look breaking into (M/N)’s dorm was a piece of cake. The issue that presented itself upon entry was another story entirely.

His best friend was buried under what must’ve been every spare blanket in the school and he was not intending to come out, especially after his forced confession. “(M/N),” Nick coaxed, sitting gently on the side of his bed. “C’mon, dude, we’ve got to talk about this at some point, and it’s now or never.”

“I pick never,” (M/N) muttered, hardly discernable through the layers of fabric.

Nick rolled his eyes, flopping back so he could sidle up next to the (h/c), “I take it back, we’re doing this now.” He let out a sigh, staring up at his friend’s ceiling, “Why’d you do it?” he asked eventually. “Why would you take a potion for me without even knowing what it was?”

The blankets shifted, eventually peeling back enough for (M/N) to eye him pointedly. “Thought I’d embarrassed myself enough to make that clear.”

“Embarrassed yourself?” Nick was obviously confused. “Will you please come out so we can talk about this like rational people?”

“Duh,” (M/N) huffed, shoving the blankets the rest of the way off. They hadn’t exactly worked as an effective hiding place anyway, and he’d never been able to say no to the ravenette anyway. “Prudence made me admit that I’m in love with you and it’s pretty damn clear you don’t feel the same. How is that not humiliating?”

Nick’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at you, “Who said I didn’t feel the same about you?”

The (h/c) opened his mouth to respond before thinking better and closing it again. “You- you just sat there, what was I supposed to think?!”

“Well,” Nick started, a small smile beginning to take over his features, “If you had stayed long enough to let me realize what you’d said, you’d probably think it was pretty dumb to have been hiding from your boyfriend all week.”

“But they were all staring and I panicked and-“ (M/N) cut himself off as he realized what Nick had said. “Boyfriend?”

The dark-haired male laughed, leaning over to press his lips to (M/N)’s in a whisper of a kiss. “Of course. You’ve been my best friend since we were, what, three? I know everything about you, and I’d trust you with my life. I know you’ll treat me well and I want to be with you.”

(M/N) let out a disbelieving laugh, leaning in to kiss his new boyfriend again. Maybe the weird sisters hadn’t been out to get him after all.

#male reader x nick scratch #male!reader x nick scratch #male!reader x chilling adventures of sabrina #male reader x chilling adventures of sabrina #male!reader x caos #male reader x caos #male reader x #male!reader x #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader x chilling adventures #male!reader x chilling adventures

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yourfinalbow · 3 years

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Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)

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fanficteen · 4 years

Text

stale blood (4)

chris argent x reader

Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly where you’d expect to find a bog cat. There definitely wasn’t a bog, and it wasn’t even coastal, no major water sources… There was the lake an hour or so out of town, but the bodies were near the school. Your light flickered and you glanced up. 3am. Your tea was cold beside you and the rabbit hole had so far proved worthless, so you flipped your laptop closed and poured the stewed drink down the sink. A muffled click brought your attention and you frowned, letting your senses roam a little wider. Something was breathing – something big, rasping, and close. You fumbled for your phone. The breathing drew closer. You unsheathed your claws, hurrying towards your bedroom in search of the painted nettle plant you’d bought. This was as good a time to test that hypothesis as any. One hand out behind you held the front door shut as you passed it, heading for the stairs, your magic holding strong though you could feel something bashing at it. Then the door splintered under the weight of clawed hands, and a man stepped through. He was unnervingly tall, with eyes the colour of torchlit fog and black fur beginning to sprout up his arms. You growled, lowly, urgently tapping through your phone. He leapt forward and suddenly you were jumping out of reach of a full-blown paw, claw marks scraping down your chest. The man was gone, and you were faced with something entirely feline, and entirely feral. His hackles rose, fur bristling up so you couldn’t get a clear view of his true size. He hissed and you bolted before he could pounce, sprinting up the stairs.

“Hello?” Allison’s voice was quiet, confused, when she answered the phone. “Allison,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as the cat’s quiet footsteps approached. “It’s (Y/N). Your, uh, your Dad isn’t home is he?” “Yeah, he is. Are you okay? You sound a little out of breath.” You heard her muffled voice call for Chris on the other end of the line. “Well, on one hand, I’m great, because we were right.” The door to your room slammed open, and a huge paw sent you hurtling across the room, crashing into your closet with a thud. “On the other hand, there is a giant cat in my house.” “There’s what?!” Allison exclaimed, and you heard shuffling in the background. You ducked under the cat’s next swipe, but he caught your arm and your phone tumbled from your hand. Growling, you sent it crashing back into the hallway with a wave of your hand. He yowled, but was back on his feet in a moment, hurtling towards you as you lurched towards the windowsill. You snatched up a handful of painted nettle and tossed it, desperately. The cat hissed, darting backwards, a few burns patterning into his fur where the leaves settled. You could hear Allison trying to talk to you, something about calling Scott, then the telltale beep of the line cutting off. Wary now, the cat circled you as you held the painted nettle plant between you and him, distinctly aware that the only way out was under the cat or out the window. He darted forward and you shot out a hand, throwing him back. But he landed on his feet and ran for you again, slamming into an unseen wall between you. You could feel the wound in your chest still oozing blood, though it should have healed by now, and your head was beginning to spin. Headlights flashed across your window as the Argents’ car hurtled down your quiet street. Your shield flickered with your focus, just long enough for a stray claw to slash across your face, and then you flipped, one clawed foot smashing into the cat’s jaw as you shattered through your bedroom window, plant still clutched to your chest. A few shards of glass embedded themselves in you, but you were more worried about the snarling of the cat behind you. There was a crash as he followed you from the window, then you were both blinded by torchlight. A ragged hiss, and it bounded away, disappearing into the woods behind your neighbour’s house. “(Y/N)?” Allison questioned, as you blinked against the light of her torch, staggering towards their car. You hummed what you hoped was an agreement, holding the plant out to her. She took it, raising an eyebrow. “It works,” you managed, after a beat. Chris rounded the other side of the house, gun still raised.

“Where’s Deaton?” Chris demanded, as Scott let you all into the vets. “He’s on his way.” “Why aren’t you healing?” Stiles frowned. “I think he laced his claws with wolfsbane,” you admitted, looking down at the already-festering cuts on your chest. “He what?!” “He knows what he’s dealing with. That means he didn’t come to Beacon Hills accidentally,” you realised, aloud, as Scott and Chris helped you up onto the operating table. “If he’s laced his claws with wolfsbane, how are we meant to fight him?” Scott fretted, as Chris already began setting to work cleaning around your wounds. “With that.” Allison was still holding the plant you had handed to her, as though she wasn’t sure what the hell else to do with it. “It smells like weed,” Stiles commented, sniffing it suspiciously. “Are you going to feed the killer cat weed? Get it stoned?” “It’s scaredy cat plant,” Deaton corrected, making Stiles jump as he entered. “Plectranthus caninus.” “I was looking into it,” you explained, “As possibly useful, but I wasn’t sure.” “So you went up against this thing with no idea how to hurt it except maybe a plant?” Stiles clarified. “I didn’t invite it over,” you snapped, muffling a shout as Deaton poured antiseptic into one of the scratches. “Can we talk about this after the wolfsbane is out of her system?” Chris prompted, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. Deaton held up a needle, and you groaned, but let him push you down onto the table anyway. “Don’t look at me like that. This will be out of your system in thirty minutes,” he scolded, lightly, jabbing the needle into your neck. “Just lie there and be glad you’re not a real dog.”

When you blinked awake again, the room wasn’t any quieter. Stiles was complaining loudly about supernatural creatures targeting them, while Deaton very patiently pointed out that the town was literally a supernatural beacon, Stiles, and your best friend is a once-in-several-lifetimes rarity, you can move away to college if you want. “He enjoys this too much,” Scott snickered, making Stiles glare at him. “What, it’s true! You’re the one who dragged me out to murder investigations before I was even a werewolf.” Stiles grumbled a response, but you were too busy with the sudden pounding of your head to bother absorbing it. “It’d be really nice if being bitten cured migraines.” The room fell silent, then Chris was at your shoulder, helping you as you struggled to sit up. “How are you feeling?” “I no longer feel like I’ve been attacked by a large cat,” you started, wincing against the lights as Deaton quickly dimmed them. “But I could do without the jackhammer in my head.” Deaton passed you some painkillers, and you smiled gratefully. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?” Scott asked, peering at you worriedly. “No, this is distinctly a migraine. Give me a few hours of sleep and a handful of painkillers and I’ll be fine,” you assured him, finally settling on just closing your eyes. A shiver ran through you, and you instinctively leaned into the warmth at your side, before it shifted, and you remembered, as Chris’ arm wrapped around your shoulder, engulfing you in his warmth. You didn’t see the three teenagers exchange glances. “We should all get some rest,” Deaton spoke, eventually. “You three – four, I suppose – still have school on Monday. You’ll keep an eye on (Y/N)?” You shot your eyes open, feeling Chris nod above you. “Hold on, I don’t need babysitting!” you protested, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Stiles snickered and you glared at him. “Well you’re not going home alone,” Scott insisted, folding his arms. “Your house was trashed anyway,” Allison pointed out, making you grimace. “There goes my deposit.” “You almost died and you’re worried about your deposit?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t all renowned arms-dealers, Argent,” Stiles put in, before you could answer. “In this economy, I’m with her.” You felt the heave of Chris’ sigh, but he didn’t respond.

You climbed out when Chris stopped the car, and barely even bothered protesting as he took your bag. You’d almost given up on arguing with him, he won every time, and your head was already pounding. “I’m going to bed. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Allison kissed her father goodnight and padded up the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, I’ll make up the spare bed in the morning,” Chris offered, leading the way upstairs as Allison disappeared into her room. “I’ll come by and check on you every couple of hours – I know you’re a shifter, but you still jumped out a window and took a solid hit of wolfsbane.” “I won’t kick you out of your bed, Chris. I can take the couch,” you answered, tiredly. He plopped your bag down at the foot of the bed and turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You’re already housing me, you don’t need to give up your bed. Or your sleep, for that matter.” You reached for the bag. Chris blocked you. “Just take the bed.” “No!” “(Y/N) –“ “Either we share, or I’m sleeping on the couch.” Chris blinked. “It’s plenty big enough, and then I won’t have to talk you out of checking on me when you need to sleep.” “We’re not teenagers at a sleepover! You were seriously injured!” “Will you two make up your minds so we can all sleep?” Allison called across the hall. “Fine. We can share.” You smiled, triumphantly, as Chris ceded.

#tw violence #tw chase #only one bed trope #only one bed #bed sharing #bed sharing trope #chris argent x reader #chris argent #argent #argent imagine #chris argent imagine #argent x reader #christopher argent #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #pack mom reader #slow burn pack mom

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

young & beautiful ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : zombie apocalypse!au; punk! au

❖ word count : 13,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol & violence

❖ summary : you’ve always thought your soulmate was an idiot to not be there sooner but eventually, everything connects when it started with Lee Felix holding your best friend at gunpoint.

one.

Jisung puffs his cheeks out and stares at his own reflection on the glass table. The bartender quickly comes back, pushing a tequila sunrise towards his direction. The boy takes an awful amount of time to study how the yellow, almost orange liquid bleeds into a deep red effortlessly.

He shakes his bang away furiously, calling out for the bartender. “Uhm, I just ordered a Coke. Not this.”

“Have a drink kid, it’s on me.”

He pushes the glass away. “No thanks.”

“What kind of adult doesn’t drink alcohol in desperate times?”

“Then what kind of bartender doesn’t run for his life when ravenous freaks are lurking the streets?”

The bartender tips his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. “Listen, kid. It’s either beating the shit out of someone or getting wasted to keep the little amount of sanity left on your mind. So I’m staying here for them alcoholics. Business is running low, not taking any risks.” He wipes his hand onto his white apron, throwing him a playful wink. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung beams innocently. “Do you have a pencil? And paper too?”

“Jisung you can’t be serious, where are you?”

Minutes later, he’s starting to regret the questionable-looking sketch of a squirrel on the piece of paper that the bartender gave him. Instead, he presses the tip of the pencil harder onto the surface until it snaps in half, leaving the sharp wooden edges sticking out. He can kill the bartender with this if he decides to spike his drink, Jisung figures. He hesitantly brings the rim of the glass to his lips and takes the smallest sip possible. The burning sensation goes down his throat in matters of seconds. His entire windpipe feels like it’s on fire.

“Hey, I need some water..” He chokes out as someone enters the bar.

The bartender averts his gaze onto the new customer. “Cool, what about you?”

The unfamiliar figure sits beside him, murmuring. “I’m not here for the drinks, but him.”

The bartender looks confused. “A water it is then?”

Jisung’s head starts spinning slightly, dizziness bubbling up inside his chest. He hiccups with the pencil held between his fingers. Something’s wrong with this man. He needs to get out of here, now. “Sorry, I don’t feel too well. I think I’ll get back to—“ Just when he slips himself off the stool, two other men appear out of nowhere and block his way as the first one firmly holds him in place by his shoulders. Jisung immediately turns to the bartender, signaling him to run with his eyes. And the bartender does as he insists.

One of the thugs growls gruffly, making Jisung drop the black duffle bag in his hand. “You’re gonna have to pay for what you did, boy.”

“Hi, I’m Jisung. Sup guys?”

“Did you just say ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’?”

Jisung grimaces as you hiss into the earpiece, the sound screeching against his eardrums. In which, it doesn't really help to cool the situation down. He drops onto his knees when a guy kicks him in the shin, face scrunching up in pain. One of the guys surrounded him hides behind a face mask, whipping out a dagger concealed in his sleeve. With a cheerful voice, “There’s nothing to be all grabby and stabby about.” Jisung gulps. He’d be lying if he said that he’s not about to piss his pants.

“Uhm, do you like the color red?”

The one who’s holding him down snaps, pulling his collar backward. “Shut it, twig.” He elbows him at the back of his head, earning a low, painful grunt.

Jisung asks, as light as a feather, he’s trying too hard to form a proper sentence at this point. “What about coding? Do you like coding? You guys look pretty smart, you must be into coding.”

“Jisung, the hell-- CODE RED, JEONGIN, CODE RED! JISUNG’S IN TROUBLE!”

He sighs in relief when you finally understand, limbs growing wobbly.

“Han, get the hell out of there! I swear--”

Your words get cut off when a goon peels the earpiece away harshly, examining the device with an amused smirk. “Look at this toy, it might be pretty expensive.” Then, he looks at his gang member and cocks a brow. “Why don’t we just take him with us? He’ll lead us right back to their hiding spot.” His team quickly nod their heads in agreement, staring down at the blond-haired boy with mischievous eyes.

With his head dangled low, Jisung’s limbs are giving in but the grip on the pencil never once loosens. “Okay..” He slowly looks up and shoots them a look, chuckling darkly. “This is gonna be fun.” In a split second, the sharp end of the pencil goes straight into the goon’s stomach, making him stagger backward and groan aloud in agony. Although Jisung’s frame is quite small compared to what a standard fighter needs to be, he never fails to take advantage of that. If he’s smaller, he’s gonna be faster than them.

He sweeps a leg across the ground, one of the men falls onto his head, easily slipping into a good sleep until the zombies come in and take care of his unconscious body. Jisung catches the earpiece when it falls out of the goon’s hand. “Thanks, I’m gonna need my toy back.” Before he can slip the device on again, an arm sweeps under his feet and he lands right onto his bottom. “Using fire against fire. Smartass.” He mutters and clumsily props himself up from facepalming himself onto a pool of fresh blood that’s slowly seeping through the tiled floor.

The only conscious goon smirks down at him. “I don’t like coding. But I do like the color red.” When Jisung flutters his eyes upwards, he’s met with a shiny metal blade, inevitable to drive down, straight into his chest, right through his heart. He automatically squeezes his eyes shut as an attempt to brace himself for the contact.

“Hey asshole,” His eyes shoot open at the more than familiar voice.

two.

You’re so screwed. You’re all fucking screwed.

You’re not screwed because you completely forgot that you have four finals in a row next week. You’re not screwed because you broke your mom’s favorite mug or accidentally had a scratch on your dad’s car. Heck, you wish they could beat you with a wooden spoon right now. If only they’re still alive. You’d have your parents put you in timeout and fail four subjects all at once just so that everything can be normal again.

In movies, particularly ‘Zombieland’ or ‘The Walking Dead’, humans are being controlled by a virus that turns you into a walking corpse that feeds off humans’ flesh. But, we naturally do have plenty of brain disorders that can do just that. However, none of those things were contagious in the first place. Until Mad Cow Disease came along. Who would have thought? Cows are simply being part of the food chain then an entire square block, forty bedrooms, and nineteen bathrooms; everyone in your neighborhood went apeshit after the steak they had for dinner.

It’s a miracle how you even managed to run away without being bit by your own parents, who are now brainless serial killers. The idea of eating someone’s organs doesn’t seem too far-fetched anymore when you know that you’re only one brain chemical away from turning to a psychotic cannibal. That’s not even the irony of the whole situation. Irony, is how ready your current generation is for the end of the world, but not exams.

Hence, you’re gonna throw a birthday party for one of your best friends like nothing’s ever happened. Except for the fact that you’ll have to lure him out of the sanctuary while the others are working on the surprise.

Now you’re sitting in an abandoned bar, attempting to cheer your friend up with a shot of whiskey. You’ve never really liked the idea of being inside a bar before. Drowning yourself in alcohol and letting the night snatch your consciousness away as you sway your body along with bad EDM, going deaf with laughter and music banging against your eardrums? Not ideal. But now, it’s all empty. The neon lights are hanging by a single cable, wallpapers chipping off with discolorations soaking through the wall. The once infamous bar where students used to get wasted every weekend is now dead. Both literally and metaphorically. You’re not complaining anyway.

“Hey Jeongin,” you speak up lowly. “Have you ever hit a girl before?” You run your tongue over the cut right on your bottom lip, tasting the coppery blood in boredom.

Jeongin stares blankly at the glass of whiskey that you just offered him, studying the yellowish component closely. “No? Why would I?” He looks up and almost freezes to death with the look that you’re throwing his way. He can’t tell whether you’re mad or not because you’re that type of person who doesn’t necessarily need to go all furious or mad to scare the shit out of someone.

“No? Oh, don’t mind me,” you shake your head, low chuckles vibrating through your chest capacity. “I was just gonna ask you how it feels. You know, to kick someone in the gut or punch them in the face when you know they’re clearly not your size.” You sigh and prop your head onto your hand, eyes slightly heavy from the alcohol kick. It’s been a while since you’ve messed with these things. “Right, sorry. Not my point. My point is: stop being a big baby and get out there, talk it out with Jisung you little shit!”

The boy in front of you quickly looks away when you stare him dead in the eye. He swallows heavily, picking at the ripped part of his jeans. “I’m not gonna talk it out with him. That was stupid, irresponsible and reckless. He could have just let it be and not have his jaw broken. He was supposed to sneak in, get out, and act like nothing’s ever happened. Instead, he got caught at a bar, waved at them and even said ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’. He didn’t even get anything but got you in danger! Look at you! Minho would kill us if he saw you with a thousand arrow wounds like this!” He throws his hands upwards and cries out. “I swear to God, I’d never sign up to save his ass, ever, again. I swear—“

You clear your throat, wordlessly dropping a black duffel bag onto the counter with a loud thud. Jeongin’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as his hands automatically unzip the bag, revealing an awful amount of weapons: shotguns, rifles, knives, crowbars, etc. Heck, even some food. God, Jeongin can’t even remember the last time he’s had a proper meal. He subconsciously runs his hand along the matte-finished surface of a firearm, a retort lingering on the tip of his tongue. “Wow,” he utters. “He really— he got them.”

“He did.” You cock a brow, leaning forward and zip the bag up again. “And tell you what, even if you’re not gonna be there when Jisung makes a bad decision again, I will. Because you know damn well that there’s nothing in this world that he wouldn’t hesitate to do as long as your little junkie ass is safe.”

“HEY, WE CAN TALK THIS OUT, CHILL—“

“I said hands up! DROP THE GUN!”

“Chan, DON’T DO IT!”

You and Jeongin quickly collect yourselves, scrambling out of the bar. When the door swings wide open, you’re met with Jisung on his knees, hands behind his head, his Benelli M4 abandoned by a water bottle near the entrance. Meanwhile, there are two other guys who seem like they’re talking amongst themselves as they hold your best friend at gunpoint. Your fingers hover over the pistol in your back pocket, mentally debating if you should engage or not.

The more you’re lost into your own thoughts, the more you find yourself staring at the pink-haired boys standing beside the brunette one, who’s having a handgun, pointing right at Jisung. The freckled boy has you drawn into him like instant gravity because suddenly, it feels like the world stops spinning when he looks up and accidentally meets your eyes. That’s when you take a closer look at his features. Perfect dark eyebrows, bright beady eyes, and prominent Cupid’s bow. His freckles are what throw you off, making it possible to look away because they’re like embers of disintegrated supernovas, scattered across the universe for eternities.

“Everyone calm down!” You snap out of it and break eye contact. As much as you’d love to stare at the freckled cutie all day, you’re gonna cut him in his sleep if he dares to put a finger on Jisung. “Lay off my friend. Now.” You declare and receive attention from the brunette as he tells you off with his eyes.

The guy who you assume is called, Chan jerks his head towards Jisung. “Tell your friend that it’d be nice if he could give it back.”

“Give what back?” You turn to Jisung. “Han, we’ve talked about this. We don’t steal from anyone, besides street gangs.” You tell him firmly, motioning for him to hand over whatever the fuck of a thing that those two strangers need because him getting killed for something as childish as a slice of cheesecake is gonna drive you nuts.

Jisung opens up his left palm and shows you a silver wedding band, smiling awkwardly as you hold yourself back from decking him in the face. “Look, I was just looking around and I found this thing, and I got curious then they just came back and deadass threatened me with their guns!” He adds in. “I don’t know what’s the big deal with this ring anyway. Looks like someone bought it on eBay.”

“Say that again, I dare you.” Chan tightens his grip on the gun and clicks in a bullet. As soon as you hear the bullet being locked in to the chamber, your hand automatically flies to your back pocket and pulls out your pistol. You directly aim at his head, finger trembling over the trigger when you switch off the safety catch. “Give-it-back,” Chan says through gritted teeth.

“Jisung..” You warn him.

Jisung protests. “Like hell I would.”

“I never miss, just throwing that out there,” Chan says indifferently

“I SAID PUT THE GUN DOWN.”

“ENOUGH!” Jeongin snaps, catching all of you off guard. “We are surrounded by mindless cannibals over here! We all went through it, we all were there when our family turned into those monsters, we all had those times where we had no place to go, no food to eat, no friends to be there for us. Don’t we have enough problems? For fuck’s sake look at us! Is pointing guns and yelling at each other gonna bring the good days back? So would you guys just stop it? We’re a bunch idiots trying to kill each other when the end is fucking near! Can’t we just be friends and play some dumbass games like ‘20 Questions’ like decent human beings while we’re driving them back to the safehouse ?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment there, your muscles relaxing and giving up on the gun. Jeongin gives Chan a Look, chest heaving up and down in pure furiosity. Sometimes the idea of surviving does mess with your mind, forgetting that people are still people. They’re just like you. They’ve gone through some pretty bad shits too.

Chan retrieves his weapon, sighing. “Sorry, we really mean no harm. It’s just that we need it back.” He scratches his neck sheepishly as two dimples are fully on display. He’s not so scary when he smiles after all.

“I’m gonna have to confiscate that for the time being.” You snatch the piece of jewelry from Jisung’s hand. “We’ll talk about this when you guys are back at our base.”

“But—“

“Chan, let her. It’s fine.” The freckled boy interrupts him.

You look at him and subconsciously smile. “Oh? I’m sorry, does this belong to you? Aren’t you scared that I’m gonna throw this pretty little thing away later?”

He replies with mild interest. “I don’t think you’d wanna do that, you could have just kept it to yourself.”

“No, Charming. It’s not my style.” You voice as you stare down at the ring, studying every little detail carefully. The silver band is exquisite with a sterling double knot, adding a unique touch to the elegant simplicity of the ring. You think you’re already falling in love, but are you really gonna tell him that? Most definitely not. “Yep, not my style. And I’ll throw it away someday, that’s for threatening my friend.”

He makes a face and takes a few steps towards you. “I have a name.”

“Don’t care. ‘Charming’ suits you pretty well.”

“It’s Felix. You’re welcome.” He grins, offering you a hand. You decide to take it, kind of taken aback when knowing that his hand is a lot smaller compared to the average guys’. “And I wouldn’t worry about that, you won’t be going home with it anyway. ‘Cause I’ll always find you, always.” He squeezes your hand a little bit too tight for your liking, making you flinch.

Little did you know, behind his back, Felix’s counting down from one two three with his fingers, Chan watching him closely with his gun ready.

Three.

Two.

One.

Jisung quickly notices and reaches out to you. “Y/N!” And one single shotgun rings through the area.

three.

On the outskirts of the once stellar city, lies a warehouse in a not so stellar neighborhood. Dead leaves are falling onto the ground, scraping against the concrete surface, and sending chills down people’s spine. It’s like they’re not even trying to grow properly even when it’s not halfway through spring yet. The eerie atmosphere is just another reason for people to not wander around for too long, as if they’d have the gut to come there in the first place. But it’s still a zombie apocalypse, there are worse things that could happen either way.

You’d be surprised at what people can do when they’re dangling off the fingertips of Death.

People would never guess what’s hidden behind the crooked door. A living room fully equipped with an outdated couch and broken TV, a kitchen with everything but a fridge. Further into the safe house is a bedroom big enough for ten people to fit in, a storage room full of firearms and weapons. Last but not least, security cameras and monitors are set up all around the base, to be more secure. No zombies in this household. It took you and the guys forever to collect enough materials. The only thing that you’re constantly running low on is food.

And turns out Jisung calling your name wasn't the last thing you’d heard.

“Ugh, Minho, get me water,” You groan loudly before wagging your hand around like a madwoman. Once you feel the cool metal surface on the nightstand, you quickly check your own reflection. Needless to say, you’re horrified at what you saw. Absolutely terrifying, yes. Hair falling onto your face, tiny scratches scattered across your cheekbones as they leave an itchy sensation of your skin. Fortunately, the cut on your lips is already cleaned, and your bruises are starting to fade. But what sucks is the constant banging effect on your temple, an imminent pain that’s threatening to swallow you whole.

Yeah, this is why you never drink.

“Minho, water..” Your whimper grows smaller and smaller towards the end as your hand gives up on holding onto your phone. “Is this what whiskey does to the human body?” You smack your lips together as the bitter taste seeps through your taste buds more deeply, choking on the alcohol smell in your own throat.

Minho takes long strides into the bedroom with a bowl of piping hot soup. “Whiskey contains almost no sugar, can reduce blood clots, decreases your chances of getting a heart attack, even a stroke, fights cancerous cells and..” He pauses before wiggling his eyebrows. “Helps you perform better in bed.” He chuckles when you bury your face under your blanket, cheeks tinted pink. He will never not get you with his less than appropriate comments.

“You’re gross.”

Minho smirks. “Low blow.” He cranes his neck tiredly, lips curling upwards into a small smile. “You’re quite lucky. Whoever was trying to kill you missed.”

Your brows automatically knit together as you try to gather the small pieces of memories your brain can muster. Everything that happened yesterday seems too cloudy for you to comprehend, but you could never forget the moment Chan’s bullet missed you by a strand of hair, piercing straight into the plexiglass window right behind you to catch you off guard. Next thing you know, Felix kicked the back of your knees, having you land on buckling ankles.

You tell Minho sternly. “If he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have come back in one piece.” You hold in a breath, in disbelief of your own words. “He spared my life, believe it or not.” Chan let you go, but why would he? You did piss him and his friend off intentionally because you never know what you’re getting yourself into.

Minho figures you might have hit your head somewhere, so he places your food on the nightstand and scoffs. “Eat up, you’re talking a shit ton for someone who almost died.”

“Where’s Han?” You gladly receive the bowl of soup with two hands, mouth watering slightly since you haven’t eaten since yesterday.

As if on cue, you can hear Jisung shrieking from downstairs. “NO NO NO! DON’T SHOOT ME WITH MY OWN GUN!”

You and Minho exchange a look before rushing outside, dashing towards the living room. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.” The commotion inside has your jaw dropped to the floor. Again, Jisung is held at gunpoint for the fourth time of the week, you’re quite surprised that his head hasn’t been blown into bits yet. With the gun pressed against his temple, beside him is the freckled boy from yesterday. Felix, if you’re not mistaken. Chan’s here too, neither of them is looking too happy. If Hyunjin was here seeing two strangers try to threaten his best friend, he’d definitely go apeshit.

“Woah woah, what’s the problem here?” Your brother, Woojin comes out from the kitchen with wide eyes and two glasses of water in his hands. “Lix, put the gun down.” He tells the younger boy firmly, but Felix doesn’t even move an inch.

He cocks his head towards Jisung, a scowl adorning his soft features. “It wouldn’t have to be like this if your friend here didn’t steal my ring. Twice.”

“Jisung, seriously?” You facepalm yourself. You can still vividly remember how Felix snatched the piece of jewelry away from your palm when your face smacked the ground. And now Jisung decided to take it back? Without your consent? You’re not taking a bullet for him, not this time.

Jisung puts his hands up in defeat. “Okay okay, I have a confession.” He inhales. “I sold it.” Just when you thought things can’t possibly get any worse.

“What?!” You and Felix exclaim simultaneously.

Felix tongues the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Come here, tell you what..”

The moment Jisung takes a step towards him, Felix takes his hand in a little bit too abruptly. He twists it at a weird angle, making Jisung wince. “That, is for selling the ring.” He presses your friend harshly against the coffee table, the handle of the gun secured on the nape of his neck, and you grimace at the sight. But also, you’re low-key enjoying this. “And that, is for being a little shit. You’re coming with me tomorrow, no negotiation.”

Felix soon lets go when your brother glares at him, smiling softly, warm brown eyes twinkling like a starry night. Jisung backs away almost immediately in caution when he offers to pull him upright and cowers behind Minho. You can tell that he’s terrified of the seemingly harmless freckled boy now. This is what he gets for never learning, he’s made a grave mistake to touch someone’s property in the middle of an apocalypse, where everyone’s more than ready to tear each other apart when they’re pissed about off about something as little as being hangry. “Huh, you’re not very into handshakes then. Don’t you want your gun back too?” He puts his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning to meet Woojin’s eyes.

“Alright, we’ll have to talk about this later.” Your brother merely sneers at Jisung. “I’ll reintroduce you guys. Y/N, my sister.” He motions towards you before averting his attention to the other two. “That’s Minho, find him if you’re injured or need someone to knock some solid logic into your head.” Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “And the moron who, uh, robbed you is Jisung. He’s a really good guy, I swear. His hands are apparently faster than his brain.”

Chan speaks up dryly. “So he’s a doctor, and a part-time therapist.” Minho nods satisfactorily. “And he’s an idiot.” Jisung just smiles awkwardly because he’s not planning on getting his ass kicked again. At least not for the time being.

You interject, still drowning in confusion. “Wait, you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s the son of our parents’ former business partners. You guys used to hang out as toddlers.” Woojin says.

You widen your eyes. “What?” You can’t believe it. Felix is ridiculously attractive (you’d hate to admit that in front of him) so hanging out with a boy this cute, even not for long would still definitely leave you with some kind of impression. There’s no way this charming guy had witnessed those times where you’re still taking medicine by swallowing them down with chocolate pudding. You’d rather bury yourself alive at this point.

“The Lees made that?” You gasp.

Woojin nods reluctantly. “They sure did.”

Felix takes a few steps forward and looks down at you, decreasing the distance between your faces. His minty breath fans your face and leaves you flustered within seconds. “Long time no see, Princess. Told you I will always find you.” He throws you a wolfish wink, proceeding to walk past you to go upstairs with Chan following him after.

“Hey! I still want my gun back!” Jisung yells after him.

The pet name that rolled off his tongue effortlessly sends your heartbeat over the edge. It’s beating vigorously inside your rib cage, louder than when your parents were about to eat you alive, louder than when you were kicked to the curb by some random mobs, so loud that you’re afraid everyone’s gonna hear it. It’s only your second encounter and he’s already messing with your heart just by simply existing as he is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Now, you’re really screwed.

Because falling for someone during an apocalypse is just another fucked up version of every rom-com to ever exist. Or maybe a knocked-off version of Warm Bodies, except Felix isn’t a zombie.

Yet.

four.

You wake up today feeling quite at peace for once in a while since the zombies outbreak only to find out that Jisung is heading outside to search for medicine with Minho. Meaning, drum rolls, you’re having the honor to go with Prince Charming aka Lee Felix and retrieve his stupid ring. You’re far too mad at Woojin to even finish the can of tuna that he kindly offered. Instead, you decide to bolt outside as soon as possible before you accidentally murder your brother.

“Get in Princess, we don’t have all day!” Felix calls out loudly as he repeatedly honks his car. Admittedly, you’re quite impressed that he managed to find a whole ass Jeep in the middle of this ghost town.

You enter the car, almost gasping at how good of a condition that this car is still in. Whoever owned this vehicle previously, God bless them because they definitely did a great job at keeping it nice and clean. There are no questionable items lying on the floor or inside one of the cabinets, the AC is still working, the radio isn’t showing those creepy statics sounds that never fail to chill you to the bones.

Felix perks a brow in amusement. “It’s mine, by the way, I did a great job at keeping it clean huh?” When you give him nothing but a scowl, he chuckles lightheartedly and starts the engine. “Buckle up, I don’t want you to suddenly fly out of the window or anything.”

“Oh, you’re pretty shit at driving then.” You comment flatly, making an effort to avoid his eyes. They keep drawing you in even at the slightest chance. You’re not falling into that downward spiral again, nope, never. But you can’t help but notice how he still looks good in a bomber jacket with a simple tee underneath, tucked neatly inside his ripped jeans.

Upon your cold response, Felix’s smile remains still on his lips. “Said someone who can’t even drive.” He snickers somewhat sarcastically. Wow, do you miss bickering with Minho about his three spoiled cats.

“Sure, hand over the keys unless you want us both to play tennis with Hitler in the afterlife.” You protest with as much sarcasm. God, it’s been two minutes into the ride and the amount of willpower you’re mustering right now to not grab him by the collar and yank his ass out of this car is actually terrifying. But doing that can potentially threaten your own life so indeed, you’re starting to wonder if that’s gonna be the wisest decision. “What’s the big deal with that ring anyway? Can’t you just break into some jewelry store and find another one that you like?”

Felix looks into the distance, his smile faltering. “My mom wanted me to give it to the girl that I’m willing to spend the rest of my life with. Even when things are fucked up, like right about… now..” He tells you sternly with a hint of sadness in his tone, his warm brown eyes are now cloudy. It’s hard to break through the wall that he’s trying to build, but you don’t think you both are close enough to talk about these things anyway.

If anything, you should try to lighten up the mood. “Good luck with that. Because the only thing you’re gonna be willing to live with now is a gun and those packets of Tim Tam Slam.”

He turns sideways to make eye contact with you for a split second before averting his gaze back on the road. So you actually pay attention to the little details. “Call it.” Felix smiles again, and somehow, you feel like a weight is being lifted off your chest. “And mind you, I have a fiancé. Well, more like ‘had’ but whatever, doesn’t matter, same thing.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva, eyes as wide as a goldfish’s. “You have a what?!”

“Relax, haven’t you heard of an arranged marriage before?” He looks at you as if you’re some kind of alien species from outer space. “I was gonna give the ring to her but bummer, your friend just had to sell it.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you hold back a chuckle with a hand secured on your mouth. “Wow..” You manage to choke out between giggles. “You must be getting something impressive to be able to agree to marry a goody-two-shoes who owns more money than what she knows to do with.”

“Pardon?” Felix snorts involuntarily. “What does that suppose to mean? Are you insulting my marriage?”

‘Insulting’ is an understatement for an entire lecture that you’ve already planned out in your head that you’re about to give him a piece of but you don’t think he’s ready for that just yet. Instead, you counter softly. “Not quite, but for the most parts, yeah, I guess I am.” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and proceeds to throw daggers towards your direction with his eyes every three seconds. “But let me ask you this. If you wanna give that ring to your fiancé so badly, then do you really love her? Or is everything just a contract so that you won’t put your parents’ company at risk?”

A comfortable silence falls upon the both of you as Felix starts replaying your words over and over again in his mind. He’s never the type to go out and about, looking for love like it’s the only purpose of his life. He’s never dated anyone before. He used to believe that love always comes at the most unexpected moment for the longest time and he should be waiting, not searching. He didn’t think much about the arranged marriage either. She was a nice girl, but they’ve only talked twice, and nothing really clicked like how he imagined love would feel like. Felix knew, he knew deep down that it wouldn’t work out after all but he was just too much of a coward to admit it. But your words hit differently, imprinting him with a little something called ‘reality’.

Everything’s kinda screwed right now, no one knows how much longer humanity can keep up with this whole survival situation. Living on the streets, and can never get a good night's sleep. Although it does sting a bit knowing that he might die alone on this planet, it definitely gives him another point of view to look at the relationship between him and his fiancé. He doesn’t even want to imagine living in the same house with her at this point.

“Your mom wanted you to give it to someone special right?” You tell him softly, a hand brushing over his as an attempt to soothe the ache in his chest. “Then you gotta find them. It’s not over yet. But that doesn’t mean there’s much time left. You don’t have to keep running towards something that isn’t worth it in the first place anymore.” You pause for a moment, lips curling upwards. “Because if we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?”

Felix bursts into laughter and brushes your hand off of him. “Ew! You stole that from a movie and it’s not even good. Jesus Y/N, get some counseling.”

“Don’t shit on my pop culture references like that you uncultured swine.”

“Just don’t do that again.”

You roll your eyes at him. “One more word and I’ll burn you down with this Jeep.” And he just smirks at you because he knows for sure that you won’t have the heart to destroy such a good car when the world is literally falling apart. Because chances are, you hate your dad’s old grey Innovator that only pumps lukewarm air inside the vehicle. In which, isn’t the most ideal thing for an apocalypse. But Woojin loves that thing far too much to throw it away so you’ve never had the heart to tell him to.

Felix calmly parks on a random sidewalk before taking the key and exits the car. “We’re here.” You follow him not long after, eyes squinted due to the brightness of the daylight. Even though you’re barely seeing anything, you can’t seem to recognize this neighborhood. And it doesn’t look very sketchy either, pretty mediocre to say the least. You can’t seem to remember if Woojin has taken you here or not. And you’re starting to wonder how many zombies are hiding behind those buildings, seeing your scent as a solution for their never-ending thirst. Who the hell did Jisung sell that ring to?

Felix narrows his eyes and spots something in the distance. “Y/N, are you seeing this?” You quickly stand beside him, and slowly, a slouched figure comes into view. “I’ll take care of that.” He places a hand on your shoulder when the figure picks up its pace, the muscles on your back tense up at his touch. “Trust me, I’m not gonna accidentally blow your head into bits.”

“Down!”

You quickly duck and slide yourself across the concrete surface in time before Felix can swing the baseball bat straight into your face. The bat comes in contact with the zombie harshly enough to knock it backward, onto her bottom. You and Felix look at each other for a solid three seconds before approaching the zombie again, examining her more closely. Her once blond hair is now doused in nothing but blood, sticking to her face and neck. Both of her lips are completely distorted as if another zombie gave her the kiss of Death (quite literally) as a welcome ritual. Suddenly, she jolts up from her lying position, hands wagging in midair to grab onto something.

You jump backward on instinct as Felix brings the baseball bat down again, and again, and again until you can’t even make out the horrendous features of the zombie anymore. He scrunches his nose at the smell of the poisoned blood and tosses the metal bat away. “Never hurts to double-tap, better not get blood on my white Jeep.”

You blurt subconsciously. “Impressive, Charming.” Okay but in your defense, Felix just smacked the hell out of the zombie with a baseball bat, he basically saved your life. Although you’re fully capable of protecting yourself, that was pretty hot.

He’s too busy fixing the sleeves of his shirt but his eyes immediately light up at your words. “Say that again?”

“In your freaking dreams, Lee.”

Felix pulls you in and ruffles your hair, rocking you side to side happily. “Don’t be so uptight! Complimenting me once in a while wouldn’t kill anyone now, would it?” When he’s too immersed in annoying the shit out of you, something falls out of his pocket with a small ‘clang’.

“Wait, you dropped something—“ You manage to wiggle out of his embrace and bend down to pick it up, and your mind just stops. “Felix…isn’t that your ring?”

five.

“Jesus Christ!” Woojin almost yells when he sees a black-eyed Felix exiting the kitchen with an ice pack on his right hand, lips swollen with several cuts across his face. “What happened to you?”

You walk into the living room not long after, tiny scratches are scattered all over your pale knuckles, blood trickling down on your cheeks like you’ve been crying red. “Okay,” Woojin shakes his head, pushing himself up from the beige-colored couch. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I punched him in the face.” “She punched me in the face.” The both of you confess in sync, exchanging questionable looks before turning away from each other.

“And why is there blood on your face again?” Woojin swears, if Felix dares to touch you, he will put his head on a chopping block, not to mention hurting you.

You shrug back, grabbing a water bottle from the coffee table and chug on it generously. “It’s not mine.” Without turning your head, you hand the bottle over to Felix. The boy gladly receives it, downing the whole thing left in one go. “Anyway, some mobsters appeared out of nowhere and they wanted his stupid ring. I got my ass kicked for a goddamn piece of jewelry, twice.” You merely glare at Felix who’s applying pressure to the cool pack of ice against his bruised eye, wincing every once in a while. He does feel kinda guilty, believe it or not. Maybe lying wasn’t the best option to get you to hang out with him more. There’s no way you two could have died back there, but he would be more than ready to throw the ring away for the sake of your safety.

But either way, Jisung’s gonna be dead meat to you after this.

“You do realize that we just kissed indirectly right?” Felix laughs when you chuck the now empty water bottle at him, hissing in anger. He’s acting like such a Lee, irritating, and carefree most of the time. In which, makes you wanna kill him with your bare hands even more in these kinds of situations. “Come here, a princess shouldn’t have blood on her pretty face.” He manages to turn you around and face him as he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. When he leans down slightly to wipe the crimson stickiness away, your once tense muscles now relax, loosening themselves.

Within this proximity, you’re able to take a closer look at his starry eyes with long lashes framing them perfectly, his cute button nose, his peachy lips and how his freckles are more beautiful than anything you’ve seen before. One of his hands holds your neck in place while the other is secured on your waist so it’s easier for him to get a better angle. Felix furrows his brows every now and then, being careful and gentle at the same time to get rid of the blood off your face completely. He did pull you into doing the dirty business after all. Might as well make up for it.

You didn’t push him away because this feels...safe, and right. He makes you feel at ease after the longest time, it’s like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not even your brother can possess this sense of comfort in his presence. It almost makes you smile which is seemingly paradoxical because forty minutes ago, you were figuring out ways to hide a corpse since you couldn’t stand his nosy ass for much longer.

“Ew, I’m getting out of here. I can’t bear seeing this.” Woojin makes a gagging noise before stumbling out of the living room with his cup of espresso, leaving you and Felix alone in the living room. A muffled silence occurs for the next thirty seconds.

“There,” He clears his throat before pulling away. “Done.”

You look away. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though.”

“Anything for my princess.”

You ignore his cheeky smile before rummaging through the wooden drawers. “Sit down.” You demand once you pull out a mini first aid kit, Minho always keeps those randomly around the house just in case. One can never be too careful after all. Felix does as you say, taking a seat on the couch. He watches you taking out a cotton swab with a bottle of sanitizing solution. “Lean in.” You command while dipping the cotton swab into the solution, his hand brushing over your thigh accidentally.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head as an attempt to hide the coral tint on your cheeks. “This is gonna hurt though…” You warn him, cotton swab hovering over one of the cuts on his cheeks. Felix nods obediently, clenching his fists and squeezes his eyes shut to brace himself for the burn. He can’t gush over how cute you look anymore since he’s secretly terrified of cleaning wounds. But who isn’t?

You smirk internally. “Okay, I’m gonna count down from three to one.”

“Three..” A single drop of cold sweat rolls down on his temple.

“Two..” He holds his breath. But before he can react properly, you’re already pressing the cotton swab onto his wound, your other hand pinning his down firmly. “Felix quit moving already! How old are you for fuck’s sake?!” You laugh wholeheartedly, struggling to hold him in place while cleaning his opened cuts with the solution.

Felix shrieks like a little child. “Ah! Ow! Y/N! Ah! Y/N! Y/N, I SWEAR TO GOD!” He succeeds in pulling away after a good three minutes, the burn from the alcohol feels like there’s fire coursing through his veins, burning a hole right through his skin. He’s not doing that ever again. “That hurt like a motherfucker.” Whimpering, his brows are knitted together in agony when you put a bandage over the wound. “You didn’t even finish counting, I hate you.”

“There there you big baby.” Smiling at him, your hand gently caresses his calloused ones. It doesn’t take him long to realize how soft your hands are, and how cold they are compared to him too. So he decides to link your fingers together, hoping to give you some of his warmth. You completely freeze at his action and choose to look anywhere but his eyes, from the broken TV to the random magazines on the coffee table and his shiny pistol next to them.

Felix brushes his thumb over the back of your hand and chuckles. “See, you do know how to smile. It’s not that hard to smile in front of me after all, is it?” He brings your knuckles to his lips and peppers small kisses over them lovingly. It makes his heart crack a little upon seeing them all scratched up, because of him. Little actions like this always make you feel fuzzy on the inside, especially when it comes from someone like Felix? You’re done for.

“I didn’t see this. I’ve never seen this. I’m not seeing this. I will never see this again.” He pulls away shyly when Jisung starts teasing you both as he passes by the living room from upstairs. Oh right, weren’t you planning on decking his face for setting you on a ‘date’ with a guy you hardly know only after three solid days when he kicked your ass?

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

six.

Falling for Lee Felix is scarier than getting infected with the Mad Cow Disease (or Mad Zombie Disease). It’s official. But knowing the basic bitch that you are, being loopy in love with him is quite inevitable. There’s no use fighting against fate anyway, still, you’re going to postpone it for as long as you can because you definitely don’t wanna get too attached during an apocalypse.

Sadly, having Felix share a room with Chan right beside yours doesn’t exactly help you avoid him. He always roams the house half-naked at night like he’s trying to put his chiseled abs up for auction after every shower. One time he almost gave you a cardiac arrest when you found him rummaging through the fridge at two in the morning without a shirt on. There were some nights where you didn’t even get a wink of sleep because Chan and he were too busy jamming to music even though they know that the walls in this house are clearly paper-thin. However, you chose to let them slide for the sake of Jisung’s and Minho’s so-called ‘beauty sleep’ aka their spontaneous cuddle sessions throughout the day. That’s only an excuse to avoid him even more.

Felix obviously knows what’s up, so he’s been acting extra annoying these days to get your attention. He keeps popping his head inside your room (which was initially a storage room but you insisted on having it since you didn’t want to share your questionable sleeping habits with any of the guys) and asks for random stuff that never seems to make sense. Like who needs a fucking stapler when the whole world is falling into a crisis? You still kept yourself together and didn’t throw hands at him because you’re not planning on giving him what he wanted.

But what Felix wants? Felix gets.

“Good morning Princess..” He half-whispers and half-singsongs after shutting the door of your room with his foot. “Thank fucking God.” He mentally bows to whatever gods up there that’s pushing their blood family feud aside to bless him for the day. You’re still fast asleep, snoring softly with your grey blanket wrapped around your body.

He’s impressed by how you still manage to not wake up early every other day because there’s no curtain unlike his room so the sunlight can easily peer right through, casting a delicate light on your figure. Surprisingly, you don’t sleep like Chan, with his leg dangling off the edge of the bed and his blanket’s on the floor by the time the sun rises again. You sleep with four limbs curled inwards, hands grabbing two full fists of the grey fabric like a puppy.

He also notices how you’re still keeping pictures of your childhood memories on one of the empty bookshelves. There’s one with you and Woojin standing in the middle of Time Square when you both came to the States. And there’s another one where you’re dressed up as Harley Quinn with Hyunjin as the Joker on your right, Jisung as Rick Flag to your left and your brother as Deadshot squatting on the ground for your senior year’s Halloween party. Although you’re more of a Marvel gal yourself.

“Y/N...” Felix whispers softly as he sits down on your bed, careful not to wake you up. His original plan to have you chase him up and down the house is already going down the drain since he really doesn’t want to ruin a good night's sleep. Chan has done that to him one too many times and he sure knows the consequences. Heck, Chan might not even see him after this.

Felix outstretches his hand carefully, caressing your cheekbone like you’re made of glass. He can’t help but act like a creep because you’re too cute for your own good when you’re sleeping. It’s kinda nice actually, to not have you yelling at him for not putting clothes on right after his shower or wrestling him to the floor whenever he headlocks you at the most random times.

Suddenly, your eyes shoot open. The moment you see another human being’s presence in your own personal bubble, you automatically grab him by the neck before pinning him down onto the bed, locking his arms behind his back. “Ow! Ow! Dude, chill!” Felix cries out from underneath you, struggling to breathe properly when you’re practically crushing his lungs. Okay, he definitely did not see that coming.

“My goodness, what are you doing here?!” You gasp in realization, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Woojin- said-“ he chokes out between uneven breaths. “I could- come in- and wake you up.”

You cross your arms and sigh. “Yeah, come in.” You say with expressive hands. “Not touching me without my consent.”

He winces at the red marks across his wrists. “Since when can you fight someone like that?” Yeah, those aren’t going away anytime soon.

“What part of ‘Zombie Apocalypse Self-Learn Defense Basics 101’ don’t you understand?” You yawn tiredly before running a hand through your bed head. “Anyway, what do you want?”

Felix beams innocently, taking in the sight of your pajamas. “Your attention.” And you internally thank your brother for not doing laundry yesterday (water’s also running low), which means you had to borrow Minho’s PJs instead of wearing your Mickey Mouse sweatpants with the tank top from your old basketball team.

You really don’t have time for this, you think. Coldly, “Why?” you fake a lifeless smile.

“You’ve never spoken to me since the day when those mobsters beat the shit out of us.” He pouts like a sad kitten. “Look, I know that it’s my fault okay? I’m sorry. But I really just wanted to hang out with you. If you didn’t play hard to get, you would have saved us a trip to some sketchy neighborhood.”

You stop him right there. “First of all, I did talk to you. Just a maximum of five words per day. And secondly, they didn’t beat the shit out of us, we made them run back to wherever they came from, crying for their mommy while soiling their pants.”

“There!” He exclaims. “You said it yourself. Five words per day. Why? Am I that much of an asshole to hold a civil conversation with? Don’t tell me that you’re still holding grudges from the day we first met.”

“So what if I hold grudges? Do you think holding my best friend at gunpoint is gonna make me wanna befriend you?”

“Okay, bad example—“

“Look, can we talk this out later? I need to go outside and look for some food. We’re running out of those premade, frozen chicken nuggets that my brother’s obsessed with. As always.” You push him aside and place your hand on the doorknob. But Felix catches your hand in time before you can twist it, yanking it back so that you’re facing him, dead in the eye. He’s not letting go of his chance again. “Let-me-go.” You deadpan but receive a frown from him as a reply.

“No,” Felix looks like you just spit on him, his mocha eyes are now unreadable, almost hurt at why you’re acting so cold towards him. Some guys find it hot when girls have this kind of facade on, but this? This shit hurts him, tremendously. You might see him as a spoiled brat at day and party animal at night who just happens to be friends with your brother for all he knows. “I don’t trust your definition of ‘later’. Who knows? You might never let me into your life again after this conversation. I don’t like people shutting me out like this. Tell me, Y/N, do you really hate me that much? If so, I solemnly swear I will never talk to you again.”

Your prepared beforehand witty retort grows dead on the tip of your tongue. His eyes...they’re not lying. It makes your heart crack a bit upon seeing how sad they look right now. Perhaps you were being too harsh on him? Maybe you shouldn’t have judged him from the get-go? “You care about me, don’t you?” Felix reaches his hand upwards to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He gently grabs your hand and places them on his cheekbone, where a scar is fading by time. “Remember this? You treated me. You do care, Y/N. You’re not stupid enough to think that I didn’t know right?”

You retrieve your hand and scoff. “Why would I care? Did I look like I cared? The only reasons I treated your wounds were because I could witness your pathetic state and I punched you in the face previously. Totally didn’t regret that but still, I wanted to make it up to you.” You say, desperately trying to wiggle your way out of this conversation because you’re not enjoying where this is going.

He inches closer and closer until he’s a breath away from your lips. “Because when you were treating my wounds, you had that dumb look on your face whenever you’re focused.” And you finally exhale when he pulls away, backing out of your room with a smirk. “I’ll wait in the car, your Highness.”

seven.

Going grocery shopping with Felix is rather stressful. Not because there are zombies spontaneously popping out of nowhere every five minutes, but because you quickly, quickly realize that this boy knows nothing about food other than stuffing his face until he can’t even pick himself up anymore. He can’t tell the difference between actually good meat and meat that’s been spoiled for several weeks. You literally can’t even fathom why because the foul smell would definitely give it away but unfortunately, he doesn’t even spare a second to suspect the sketchy hues of green and blue on the red surface.

But hey, at least he can kick some zombies’ asses when you’re too busy deciding between salmon and tuna. You’d always end up getting both anyway because why not? Guess this is what you get for not having to pay for anything. Being stuck with an uneducated fool who’s never once experienced working in the kitchen. The area around here is somewhat isolated so the stores are still pretty stocked up with all of the essentials. Thank God they haven’t run out of Woojin’s favorite chicken nuggets.

“Do you even know what this is?” You throw your hands up midair in disbelief, referring to the pile of grapefruits that are now half-way empty for no particular reason.

Felix makes a thinking face, lips pursing. “I think it’s a flamingo.”

“Lee Yongbok, you gotta be shitting me—“

He stops midway towards the frozen aisle. “Woah woah slow down bro, where did you get that name from?” His Korean name is as confidential as Chan’s secret drawers full of his guilty pleasure food. Not many people call him that because he secretly hates it and whoever takes that advantage to make fun of him deserves the cruelest of punishment. Felix frowns furiously at you before grabbing several packs of the chicken nuggets, fries, and some dumplings to throw them into the cart along with his Tim Tam Slam and your KitKat. “Chan told you right? He’s been on my ass all week since we moved in with you guys.”

You help him with stocking up canned food. “Why though? He seems like such a nice guy.” Okay except for the fact that he almost blew Jisung’s brain out. But you’re not gonna dwell on the past. “No worries though, everyone has probably known your Korean name by now.”

“This is not what I signed up for.”

You aggressively grab him by the neck to ruffle his hair, laughing at his misery. “Look at us, we’re already becoming so civil, I bet my brother is loving this.”

Felix tugs himself free from your grip to fix his hair and huffs. “Could be fate, you know?” He wiggles his brows, making you gag as you both make your way out of the store.

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “And they say I’m the crazy one.”

“No! I’m serious!” He exclaims with two hands up in defense. “One thing leads to another. Are you seeing how far we’ve come?” He pauses for a bit when the two of you reach the car so that he can throw everything to the backseats. “Jisung impulsively stole my ring, which made us run into each other. I met you again because I just happen to be friends with your brother. And since you tried to avoid me so hard, I had an excuse to piss you off so that I’m making up to you right now. How is that not fate?” He ends his speech before entering the car, inserting his key to start the engine.

You jump into the passenger’s seat, scoffing. “Thanks for the pep talk, pretty sure fate’s doing all the work. Now, where are we going?”

“I’m hungry, and I’m craving something.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to care because..?”

“Shut up and turn on some music.” He tosses you his phone.

Felix’s playlist consists of a handful of Coldplay’s songs with some other upbeat, trendy ones. He knows enough lyrics to sing along to throughout the drive. You look out the window and loosen yourself up a bit. His voice is surprisingly soothing, a stark contrast to his usual deep talking voice which is kinda nice to listen to. Both of you never start talking because you’re already dozing off to Dreamland because he had the audacity to drag your ass out of bed at eight in the morning. Your head constantly knocks onto the cool glass window every two minutes or so, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering your slumber.

It’s almost noon, and the sun’s probably the only thing that’s keeping Felix awake. He’s hungry, thirsty, sleepy and kind of stiff from occupying the driver’s seat for way too long. He didn’t get any sleep last night, busy thinking of ways to get your attention again. Luckily, he didn’t walk out of your room with a black eye this time. Felix mentally exhales when he pulls up, and his eyes are met with the giant purple and pink neon sign: “Fancy” aka Chan’s favorite place. He shuts the engine off before leaning over to wake you up.

“Meow,” he flinches at the sound and immediately turns to you. You would never possibly make that, would you? “Meow,” there it is again. His eyes shift again to the backseats, squinting hard only to make out a yellow ball of fluff shuffling through the bags of groceries. “Oh my God Soonie, what the hell are you doing here?” He sighs in relief when the cat finally looks up at him, green eyes piercing through the dark.

You stir in your slumber and eventually wake up upon hearing the commotion. “What happened?” A loud yawn escapes your lips when you rub your eyes tiredly. You turn around only to see Minho’s oldest cat pawing at the paper bags. “Are you seeing Soonie in the backseats right now or am I just delusional?”

“Well, that makes two of us. She probably sneaked out again, Minho’s gonna throw hands soon.” Felix scoops Soonie into his arms easily and opens the door. Then, he turns around to look at you. “Come on, I bet you’re hungry, my treat.”

eight.

“Food,” Felix tells you when he shuts the door behind his back. He takes in the cool air of the diner and exhales deeply. God bless humanity for air conditioners.

You nod back without looking at him. “Yeah, food.” And you let him drag you across the diner by the wrist.

The diner is definitely not the place that needs to be booked months in advance. It’s not the kind with large mullioned windows, long embroidered curtains, velvet tables or delicate classical music in the background. It leans more towards the retro style with checkered floor, colorful and fun pieces of furniture, somewhere that makes you feel cozy too. You like it here.

Felix outstretches his limbs and yawns, petting Soonie gently. The cat isn’t as impulsive as she is whenever Doongie or Dori is trying to steal her toy. Thank goodness. “Nayeon!” He smiles and waves at the brunette girl behind the counter.

She quickly catches your eyes with her bunny-like smile, radiant skin, and pretty eyes. When she smiles, her cheeks are bunched up, eyes wrinkling into little crescent moons. The type of smile that will make anyone a little breathless. Then, you hear Felix mumbling that something smells really fucking good when he leans over the counter. You look around the diner once again, although it’s empty, there are still people working as if they don’t mind the given circumstances. These people are all high, they are all insane. They have to be.

Nayeon pulls out a pen along with her notepad, eyeing you with curiosity. “Hey kid, where’s Chan?” And you quickly break eye contact with her, pretending to have some kind of interest in the photo of her with other eight girls right beside the menu. They were on a tropical island, smiling and laughing with the ocean waves splashing against them. All of them are incredibly gorgeous, making you feel small in comparison.

“He’s elsewhere with Woojin today. I’ll take the usual,” Felix slides the smaller version of the menu across the counter, perking a brow for you to take a look at it. “Choose whatever you like.”

You shrug. “Anything will do.”

“Then two of what I already said then.” He nods towards the waitress, earning another warm smile.

Nayeon taps her pen against her cheek, whispering. “Who’s that? Did you find someone?” She looks down at how his hand is holding onto yours and grins mischievously. Felix automatically drops your hand at her words, blushing furiously while looking down in slight embarrassment. “Ah, no need to explain, I’ve got you.” She places a hand on his shoulder and laughs before punching in your order.

“It’s not—“

Nayeon puts her index finger over his mouth. “I’ve got you.” She’s never seen Felix hanging out with any girl other than his sisters before so she’s 90% sure that you’re not just any girl to be able to go to this specific diner with him. By the look of it, there’s gotta be something between you two. How you’re constantly staring into midair and anywhere else to avoid her eagle eyes, how Felix’s cheeks are redder than a tomato. Everything just speaks for itself. “Your orders will be right out.” She beams and walks back into the kitchen. You almost bury yourself alive hearing multiple females squealing and giggling in the distance.

“Sorry about that,” he pushes himself away from the counter before smiling sheepishly. “They just get excited because—“

“Because you’re a coward who’s never been in a relationship before.” You finish his sentence with a smirk, snatching Soonie from his pocket and walk over to one of the round tables.

Felix settles down on the opposite side of the table with a sigh. He shoots you a dirty look before pouting. “God, you’re so mean. Stop exposing my miserable, non-existent love life.”

[1:35p.m.]

meanhoe | uhm hello Kardashians, I’m looking for my eldest daughter Soonie?

woobear | not the living room!

[1:36p.m.]

trashbin | not my room!

drama lama | not the backyard!

old man | not the kitchen either!

[1:37p.m.]

quokka | not the bar too!

meanhoe | tf are you doing at a bar?

quokka | retrieving my sanity…

[1:38p.m.]

meanhoe | you know that my whiskey is wayyy better right?

quokka | DID I STUTTER?

meanhoe | swiped left.

[1:39p.m.]

y/n | she was inside Felix’s Jeep for some reason, we’re at a diner rn, some place called ‘Fancy’?

old man | LEE FELIX YOU TRAITOR!!

old man | YOU BETTER BRING ME SOME WHEN YOU GET HOME.

[1:40p.m.]

meanhoe | bring her home safely, and I’ll make dinner.

meanhoe | if not, I will grab you both by the throat and tear you apart, piece by piece.

meanhoe | there will be no negotiation, no compromise, and no mercy.

You just grin at your phone before putting the device away and shudder slightly. That’s enough Internet for today, boys being boys. This is why you’re low-key terrified of cat lovers. “Well aren’t you busy,” Felix scoffs when he sees that you’re not having any interest in one of the proper conversations with him that rarely happens. “Too busy texting with some cute boy to talk to me instead?” He cocks his head sideways, mustering his best puppy eyes or in this case, kitten eyes because he looks just like ‘Puss in Boots’.

You pinch his nose cutely, making him back off in pain. “If you’re saying Minho aka the freaky dad cat is cute then yes, I am extremely occupied with him threatening my life for having his beloved daughter in my arms.” Then, you allow him to glare at you for as long as he likes while you’re too focused on admiring the view from the window. The sky is oddly blue today, not too cloudy, not too sunny, the air is not that stuffy either. Maybe on a good day, even a zombie apocalypse seems pretty normal. You can understand why these girls still want to run the diner during times like this, simply because they love their job. And they want to help those in need because it’s the least they can do, to give people a heartwarming meal.

“Sorry,” Nayeon walks towards your table with a bowl of warm milk. “The food will be out in a minute, I just don’t want the little thing to starve and be all miserable while you guys are stuffing your faces.” She pets Soonie with the warmest smile and the kitten purrs into her touch, closing her eyes in satisfaction.

Felix pulls her out of your arms and gently places her next to him on the cushioned surface. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though. Minho spoils her on a daily basis.”

Curiously, “When did this happen?” You frown before running your index finger over a small hole that just happens to be the size of a bullet, cautious enough to not accidentally cut your finger.

“Oh, that,” The brunette waitress' expression mirrors yours, slightly confused and intrigued. “Huh, I wonder…”

And all of the colors drain on your face. “Duck,” you say breathlessly, breaths coming in short.

“What?” Felix can barely hear his own voice.

Nayeon suddenly looks alarmed. “Everyone get down!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, arms flailing like a madwoman. “GET DOWN! NOW!”

Just then, a bullet pierces right through the window, glass shattering into pieces as you see Nayeon clutching onto her own stomach, blood oozing from her fresh wound. You’re ready to yelp aloud when Felix pulls you down onto the ground with him, letting his body cover up your head and shards of glass cut his cheeks. The diner grows uncomfortably silent when no sound is made, but you still keep your eyes shut and your face buried in his chest.

“Hey hey look at me,” Felix tells you, angling your jaw so that you can make eye contact with him although your eyes are quivering in fear. It’s not the first time you’ve heard a gunshot before but he’s never seen you so shaken up about it before. It hurts seeing you like this. “We’re gonna be okay—“

Before you can reply without tripping over your own words, something falls onto the tiled floor, rolling across the surface to reach the other side of the diner. You squint your eyes hard to make out the shape of the object. It was almost the size of an avocado, round-ish, and dark. No one seems to notice it at all until there’s an ear-piercing sound that keeps beeping, echoing throughout the entire diner.

“Shit—“ You breathe out and hold onto Felix tightly, bracing yourself for the blow.

That’s when the entire place explodes, destroying every single thing until there’s nothing left but the grey ashes that are following the wind to reach the burning sky above.

Utterly demolished, you’d say.

nine.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Woojin says softly when he sits down next to you on your bed. He gives your hand a squeeze in reassurance, heartbroken at your state. You look as pale as a ghost, the bags under your eyes more evident than ever, and your lips chapped, starting to turn purple. You haven’t touched the food that Minho offered for the past few days, still refusing to talk to any of the guys. But he was relieved that you were saved from the pile of ruins by one of the workers there - Jihyo, he believes that’s her name. He wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you.

“No,” you shake your head profusely. “Not now.”

“So the thought of losing him does scare the shit out of you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ve found your happy ending,” your brother ruffles your hair and stands up. “Yes, right in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.” He smiles at you one last time, “Anyway, you better find him then. Godspeed.” before closing the door with a small ‘click’.

Meanwhile, you’re staring at the wooden floor blankly, starting to wonder how filthy rich the previous family living here was. By the look of it, they seemed to be pretty well off but were probably scared shitless when the disease spread like wildfire. With that, they took off running, leaving everything behind to preserve their precious lives. But who knows? They could be some random zombies out there, roaming the streets mindlessly by now.

You space out a lot these days, thinking about random things, but mostly him. You keep on asking yourself where in the world is he, how is he holding up, but it’s all pointless since you don’t even know if he’s still… Anyway, but when you peer at the small mirror on your table, you can see a small glimmer of another presence inside your room. Sometimes you don’t realize how far you can go whenever you’re thinking hard about something. It gets to the point where you don’t even move when Minho or Hyunjin is yelling or screaming about some stupid things right in front of your eyes.

You take another look, eyes growing wide. It’s a glimmer of a pink-haired boy.

“Hey Princess, not gonna choke me to death for intruding your room this time?” Felix jokes before kneeling down in front of you. It takes you an entire two minutes to understand that he’s here. He’s really here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him in person that you’re starting to get emotional just by looking into his eyes. They’re still starry, warm and give you a sense of comfort whenever your gazes touch. “Hey, it’s all good now.” He wipes a single tear away from your face that you didn’t even take notice of.

You choke out, debating on whether you should be bawling your eyes out because he’s safe and sound or kick his ass for worrying you. “You can’t just come back and say that! Do you know how scared I was?! Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I’ve gone through? And now you’re just gonna come back from the Underworld to tell me that ‘It’s all good now’? Well then if you excuse me, I’m gonna go murder my friends and see if it w—“

Felix figures you still haven’t changed one bit. He knows that you’re a lover, not a fighter. Talking big on the outside but easily hurt on the inside. That’s one of the things that makes you who you are today, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. So he wordlessly leans in to capture your lips in his, swallowing every word, every nonsense, every nag that you’re gonna throw his way until you completely melt into his touch. The kiss makes your head a little fuzzy, and butterflies are tickling at the pit of your stomach. For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, Felix will definitely make you giddy all day with a kiss like this. It’s kind of innocent, kind of childish but unforgettable.

The deeper the kiss gets, the more you think about your conversation with him the other day when he’s driving you to the diner. Fate might be a thing, but still a debatable topic. You’re not gonna say that you believe in fate because that’s a whole lot of commitment for someone who can’t even stay up to date with a short web drama. But maybe, just maybe, fate is doing its job just fine after all because you can’t ask for anyone else to be with you at the end of the world. You know that Felix’s not here just because the universe pities you (or him), or he will love you just for the hell of it either. Everything happens for a reason, but more importantly than ever, he’s not going anywhere this time. You didn’t ask, you’re sure of it by the look in his mocha eyes.

Because like you’ve said before, his eyes never lie. They could never.

You pull away before planting your hands on either side of his shoulders, chest heaving up and down due to shortness of breaths. “How did you...you know, make it?”

“I really thought that I was going to suffocate to my untimely death under the ruins of the diner but the girls found me later on when they were digging through everything. I was knocked out for a good week, some scratches here and there, but no one was hurt severely“ he stops himself before continuing when he sees your glossy eyes. “Nayeon is fine too. She didn’t lose that much blood, surprisingly.”

You let silence fall upon the both of you for a second when a rush of relief runs down your spine. Then, your lips twitch slightly at what you’re going to say next. “Do you know why I treated your wounds that day? Do you know why I stared at the floor when your friend was teasing us? Do you know why I spent the past few days being all depressed and teary in bed?” You ask Felix with such determination that it makes him chuckle.

“Easy,” he grins and caresses your cheekbone the exact same way he did a few days ago. “Because you fell for a spoiled rich kid who knows absolutely nothing about being in love. Just like how I did for you, a girl who’s best at killing the walking dead, not cooking, not cleaning, none of that shit. Weirdly enough, fate brought the two of us together again when we’re both lying on the borderline between life and death.”

You roll your eyes at him and finally crack a smile. The smile that he adores the most. “Then what if fate does us apart? What if it doesn’t want us to end up with each other again? What if this isn’t a happy ending but a beginning to something much more terrifying?”

“In that case,” Felix leans in again, his breath fanning your cheeks. “I will always find you. And look for you, and run to you until I no longer have the strength to lift myself off the ground with my own feet.” He gently slips the silver ring that he treasures with his entire life onto your finger and places small kisses on your knuckles, looking as beautiful as ever.

He’s right, and wrong at the same time. The idea of fate does have some kind of power over mundane mortals like you because you’ve been tied down to the idea of not being able to control your own life since you’re born. But on the other hand, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hand to be able to get what you want in life. So seeing how determined Felix is to find you even if it means walking to the other side of the planet with his bare feet in spite of being such a naïveté who believes in things that are considered dumb, you know that he’s being serious.

At the same time, you accept the fact that you didn’t find love, it found you because it’s got a little something to do with fate, destiny and what’s written in the stars.

You tell him, voice hoarse. “You’ll find me and never let me go?”

“Not this lifetime, not even in another one.” He says with a smile, eyes crinkling.

#stayshub #stray kids ot9 #lee felix fluff #zombie apocalypse #skz au #skz fanfic #felix fic #lee yongbok #stray kids scenarios #felix x reader #han jisung #yang jeongin #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin

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kessielrg · 3 years

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[Kingdom Hearts AU] That One Love Letter Trope

Summary: In which Ventus's kid writes a love letter for a school assignment, and it ends up being misinterpreted thrice. Dedicated to @chibi-mushroom because A) without her, Neige wouldn't even be a concept and B) she reminded me of the trope. Written over the course of the day without much beta. Enjoy!

(As of Feb 14, 2021, it's also my longest oneshot!)

Rating: K+ (alcohol mentions)

Word Count: 4,323 words

---

Neige had been looking at her word processor for a solid minute before looking up at Ventus. The 7 year old's father was getting some silverware together for a Valentine's brunch they were holding for a few friends. No kids but Neige were allowed, of course- they'd kick her out of her own house if it wasn't for the little fact that her preferred babysitters were coming over.

“Dad, do I have to do this assignment?” she whined. One of her fingers absently going over the middle row of her keyboard, leaving behind lines of gibberish. “This is hard.”

Ven paused for a moment, then came over to her to see what she had accomplished for far. It wasn't much- just that previously mentioned line of gibberish.

“You'll figure something out.” he assured her, even pressing his lips against her temple for a moment. “You always do.” And with that, he went back to his business.

“Because that's helpful.” Neige mumbled under her breath with a quick roll of her eyes. She looked back at the screen of her clam shell shaped laptop and huffed. Why'd her teacher decide to give them a weekend project anyway? No one wrote love letters to anyone anymore. It was stupid. What was Ms. Tremaine's only hint toward the project? 'Write what you know?' What did Neige know about love when the boys in her class preferred to nearly kill themselves every recess to try to jump the school's fence? She honestly just wanted to be homeschooled instead of being at that ritzy private school that was so good at teaching Neige all the stuff she needed to know before graduating. It was dumb. And stupid. She hated it.

Then, in thinking about how she'd much prefer her grandparents to teach her and how she'd gladly help her father with chores instead of stupid assignments, the girl was hit with a stroke of inspiration. Clearing her word processor of her nonsense from earlier, Neige started to carefully type out the thoughts as they came to mind.

What is love?

I want to write a story on our love but I do not know where to begin.

I want to write a story about a thing I see every day in you.

Love is distance. Both near and far. Hoping to calm a storm with only patience.

Love is always being next to you. Taking my hand to the next challenge with out asking.

Love is not cat and mouse. Love is cat and bunny with lots and lots of kisses.

Love is finding light in the dark. The strongest to protect the one that matters the most.

Love is to give up what you love because you love. It will not be easy for us.

What is love? I do not know. Can you show me?

I want to learn more from you and you alone.

She looked it over once, tweaked a bit of it, then gave herself a firm nod. This would do for now. If Ms. Tremaine didn't like it, then bully for her. With a spirited mouse click, Neige sent the document off to the printer. When the printing screen confirmed that it was done, the girl shut the laptop lid and took it with her back into the office. Neige set her computer down on the office desk to gloriously snatch the paper from the printer's feeder. She proudly looked over her handiwork as she walked back out to the kitchen.

“Why are you still inside?” a voice asked her as she made it past the counter. Neige jumped a good foot in the air as she looked around wildly for the source of the voice. She let out a sigh of relief in realizing that it was just Terra. Not long after, the girl's face immediately soured.

“Homework.” she spat in utter contempt.

“They give you guys stuff to work on the weekends too?” he wondered as he absently scratched the back of his neck. He then gave a shake of his head before telling her, “Head on out anyway. You know how rare it is to see Sora around here- better talk to him before your mom finds a reason to kick him out.”

“Right.” Neige agreed with a nod and a wide grin. She set her homework on the counter and quickly made her way out the door. Terra watched her for a moment with a fond grin on his face. She was growing up before their very eyes- and with how little they got to see Sora, Kairi, Riku, and Namine, it would have been a crime for her to be cooped up indoors all day.

Now, what had Terra been doing before getting sentimental over his adoptive niece? Oh yeah, he came in with a mission. Ortensia had pulled him aside and told him that she had left a surprise on the kitchen counter just for him, over by the recipe books. The old cat just gave Terra a sly smile when he had tried to ask what she meant. It had felt a bit weird, honestly. Usually Ortensia was more upfront about what she was thinking. Must have been some surprise if she wasn't going to tell him.

Terra let out a thoughtful hum as he started to go through the recipe books. Ortensia didn't say which book it was, unfortunately, so Terra dug through them all. As he searched, Terra accidentally knocked over a paper that had been resting on the counter.

“Oops.” he mumbled under his breath as he bent down to get it. As he set the paper back down on the counter, he noticed that something was written on it. Terra looked over the paper with curiosity then a jolt of shock coursed through him.

Was this the thing Ortensia wanted me to see? A love letter? Why would she want me to read a love letter?

Terra scratched his head as he tried to figure it out. This didn't mean that Ortensia had a crush on him, right? That was just ridiculous- she and Oswald had been together for how long? Then again, Ortensia was a cat…

“Whatcha looking at, Terra?” the playful voice of Sora said from behind the older man. “You look like you've found something horrifying.”

“Oh!” Terra remarked, quickly folding the paper in half so Sora couldn't read it. “It's nothing. Just something that Ortensia wanted me to find, apparently.”

“Oh really?” Sora bemused with a teasing grin. He then leaned forward a bit, tapping his nose in a mischievous manner before telling Terra, “Well whatever it is, I'll find out eventually.”

“Sure you will.” Terra retorted with a roll of his eyes. He tried to get past the weird man as he said, “Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a party outside and it's rude to leave guests alone for too long.”

“Uh huh.” Sora smirked. He snickered even more as Terra fumbled his way out of the kitchen, almost directly running into the table before placing something there as he finally headed on out. Sora let out one last chortle before going on to do what he had come in for- to steal food!

. . .

Admittedly, Neige didn't know what to do now that she was outside. She just kinda wandered between the adults, gave a polite hello to Kairi as she talked to Sabrina, Neige's mother, about how Kairi's first kid was doing. Apparently Dez had moved out to go to college. It didn't look like Sabrina was paying much attention though; she slowly drank from her small wine glass and nodded every now and again to whatever Kairi had to say. Neige looked away from her elegant mother to something else, spotting Namine a good distance away.

Namine was sitting on a plastic lawn chair with one leg folded over the other -which remained on the ground- to be a makeshift easel for her drawing pad. It kinda looked rather uncomfortable, which made the girl all the more curious about what the woman was doing. As Neige leisurely made her way over to Namine, she realized that she wasn't wearing any shoes. Maybe it helped to keep her one leg propped up?

“Hey Namine.” Neige happily greeted as she rested her arms on the plastic chair's armrest. “Whatcha drawing?”

Namine jumped a little, like she hadn't seen Neige come up, before looking over at the girl and giving a small smile.

“Would you like to see?” she offered, moving her drawing pad a bit so Neige could get a better look. The drawing that Neige saw made her recoil a little. Namine had been drawing a side view of Sabrina in a regal looking pose, holding her small white wine glass to the front a little. The face Namine had given the girl's mother was neutral, but still had an air of commanding authority to it. Neige noticed that the artist hadn't started to draw in the chair yet- probably to rework it into something more befitting to the way Sabrina was sitting. Namine had already taken liberties with what Sabrina was drinking; the liquid was quite clearly a pale pink color in real life, but Namine had instead made it a blood red.

“It's pretty.” Neige admitted, even though she shrunk a little- burying her mouth in her arms. Namine didn't seem to notice.

“I'm going to do a new portrait of everyone today.” Namine said. “I've been meaning to work on side profiles for awhile.”

“Even of me?”

“Of course!” Namine grinned as she leaned forward to give Neige a little bunny kiss. “You want one all by yourself, right?”

“Yes!” Neige happily agreed, giving a bright, wide smile. Her smile faded for a moment as she looked back to Namine's drawing of Sabrina. She wondered if Namine would draw her just like that- regal, and pretty, and…

“Hey Namine!” Sora hollered from the kitchen. “Can I borrow your far more dexterous hands for a minute?”

Namine giggled as she got up from the chair. She hugged her drawing pad a bit as she took it with her. What she didn't expect to see as she entered the kitchen was Sora struggling to open up a Mason jar filled with salt water taffies. Sora happened to spot her out of the corner of his eye- he gave her a nervous laugh as he offered the jar up to her.

“Please?” he sheepishly asked.

“Are you ever going to grow up?” she teased as she placed her drawing pad on the table.

“'Course not!” he mused with a boasting grin. “I'll be hitting the old 4-0 is the next few years. I'm practically set in my ways now.”

“Of course.” Namine laughed with a small shake of her head. As she took the jar from him, she ventured to ask, “Why didn't you ask Kairi to help you?”

“Kairi's distracting Sabrina for me.” came the answer, simple as day, combined with a roll of his shoulder. “I like being here, you know, even if certain people do not.”

Namine let out another light laugh before giving the jar lid a quick twist. Just like that, the lid came off with a satisfying little pop.

“Namine, you're a lifesaver.” Sora happily declared as he took the jar from her again, even moving a bit close to give her a small peck on cheek. “Without you, Riku, and Kairi, I'd be an absolute disaster.”

Now Namine started to blush. She shied away from Sora to go get her drawing pad again now that his crisis had been solved. She frowned when she noticed a loose paper by her drawings. Was it one of hers? Not thinking much about it, Namine stuck it in her drawing pad. She was about to take it and head back outside before she remembered something.

“Oh, Sora,” she said, looking back over at him. She had to hold back her laughter as the adult already stuffed three salt water taffies in his mouth, and was working on a fourth one. “I did something special earlier. It's in with my drawings- I'd love for you to see it.”

“You bet!” Sora agreed, his voice muffled slightly from the sticky candy. Namine laughed at him once more before going outside. Sora grinned as well, chewing on the taffies a bit more before swallowing them down. Good thing he did daily exercises to keep his metabolism up- otherwise Kairi would be up in his case about having to watch his blood sugar, or something.

Picking out one more salt water taffy for good luck, Sora popped it into his mouth before heading on over to the table. He happily chewed away as he opened up Namine's drawing pad to see a paper right there. Sora gave it a curious tilt of his head before picking it up. What he read on it nearly made him choke.

A love letter? Why would Namine give me a love letter? Yeah, sure, I might have have a crush on her some time ago. But that was, like, 20 years ago! We have kids now! Happily married too! At least, I thought she was happily married. This must be a mistake. Right? How often has she hung around Riku today?

Panic clouding most of his instinct, Sora blindly looked around to hide this obscene letter. He spotted a rather thick book on the shelf behind him. The man let out a noise of happy surprise before snatching it and shoving the paper inside a random page.

“What's got you all jumpy?”

Sora all but screamed before turning to see Riku near him. He even let out a surprised, “Riku!” that almost came out in a shrill squeak. “Didn't see you there!”

Riku looked back at Sora with a neat raise of his eyebrow. No matter how old he was, Sora hated when Riku would just stare at him until he spilled the beans. Thinking quickly, and not at all rationally, Sora quickly shoved the book in Riku's hands with a quick, “Here, take this!”

“Why?” Riku wondered, still giving Sora the Stare(TM).

“Because it's for Aqua!” Sora sputtered. “Y-yeah, super important that she gets it, you hear?”

“Uh huh...” came the least of assured responses. Sora sheepishly laughed in return as he started to sneak around Riku to head back outside. Riku did not stop staring at Sora with a suspicious glare. When Sora got to the door, he turned back to Riku with a rather pale face.

“Hey buddy, we're still friends, right?” Sora asked, trying to play off whatever fear he had with a weak smile. Riku wasn't buying any of it.

“Ye-eah…” he agreed as he placed a hand on his hip. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason. None of all. Carry on wayward son! Er, Riku!” and with that, the eccentric personality of Sora had left the room.

Riku only shook his head before starting to look around for Aqua. She hadn't been outside, and she wasn't in the kitchen, so he casually wandered into the living room. Sure enough, there was Aqua sitting on the couch as she talked to Oswald.

“Hey Aqua,” Riku greeted, earning the duo's attention, “Apparently it's super important that you get this.”

He presented the book to Aqua with very little flair, and the look on her face was easily confused. “Thanks?” she said as she took it. Riku only gave her a less than helpful nod before leaving. Oswald peered over Aqua's shoulder a bit to get a look at the book.

“Why was it super important for you to get 'Pride and Prejudice'?”

“Not sure.” Aqua admitted. She looked over the book for some sort of clue before noting that a piece of paper was sticking out from the book. Curious, Aqua opened the book up to find a folded letter inside. She carefully took it and started to read it over.

“Well?” Oswald asked as Aqua's face started to contort into further confusion.

“It's a love letter.”

“From Riku?”

Aqua simply shrugged as she handed the letter over. The rabbit looked over it, and eventually a bemused grin started to cross his lips.

“You mind if I take this for a bit?” he asked her. Aqua quickly shook her head.

Oswald let out a small laughter as he got off the couch and went into the kitchen. As he entered, so was Sabrina with her now empty wine glass.

“How much wine have you had today?” he teasingly asked her.

“Not enough.” came the sharp answer as the woman went undeterred to the refrigerator. “If Kairi keeps going on about how she and Sora are worried about Dez leaving the house, I'm going to chug the whole bottle then pop open a new one.”

“You're on the road to do that anyway.”

There was a disgusted scoff that Oswald couldn't help but chuckle at. Annoyed at her adoptive parent's amusement to her constant annoyance, Sabrina noticed that he was holding a piece of computer paper.

“What'd you find, old man?” Sabrina asked as she pulled out a moscato bottle from the fridge.

“Something Neige wrote.” the rabbit told her, holding up the letter with a little wave. “Aqua seems to think that Riku wrote it for her.”

“Really?” the woman snorted as she started to refill her empty glass. “Here I thought she was smarter than that. Maybe being over 40 really starts making those braincells die off.”

“I think I should tell her.”

“Why?” came the prudent question before Sabrina took a rather generous sip of wine. “This could be fun to watch.”

Oswald looked up at Sabrina, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disturbed that your sense of humor hasn't waned these past twenty years.”

Sabrina only smirked as she started to fill her wine glass almost to the brim.

. . .

The adults were starting to act really weird all of a sudden. And there were a lot of weird things Neige came to know adults to do. This kinda felt like a 'keeping secrets' kinda weird, but that didn't make much sense. Not that anyone was going to actually tell her about it. Still too young, apparently. What a bore, and no less concerning. When it came time for everyone to eat, it didn't take make much for the 7 year old to note that certain people were very careful on where they sat. Not that she was going to complain- she ended up happily sandwiched between her parents.

“How much wine have you had today?” Ventus curiously wondered as he eyed Sabrina's mostly empty wine glass.

“Not you too.” she replied with a groan. “There's still half a bottle in the fridge. Besides, why are you complaining? This just means that it'll be easier to tease me later on.”

Ven's face lit up a scarlet red at the suggestion.

“Gross!” Neige indignantly hollered, knowing full well what 'adult talk' was like between her parents, however rare it occurred. The two of them looked at her, then back up at each other. A teasing smirk crossed Sabrina's lips as Ventus quickly looked away again.

Things got even weirder when they started to pass food around. Aqua tried not to brush hands with Riku when he passed her the butter dish. Terra refused to look Ortensia in the eye while they talked about some topic Neige couldn't keep track of. Sora kept changing the subject to flat out ignoring her whenever Namine tried to talk to him, which was really odd in the child's mind. She wasn't the only one picking up on this weirdness, thank goodness. Kairi was also starting to have some suspicion on what was going on.

When Kairi finally ventured to ask, “Sora, is something wrong?” it was only the beginning of one large dam bursting.

Sora had jumped in his seat, looking over at Kairi with a wide, exaggerated grin. “What ever do you mean, my love?” he playfully asked. It only served to make Kairi even more suspicious.

“Oh, it's nothing.” Kairi delightfully decided, leaning close to him. “Just the little factor that you're a terrible liar, darling.”

The spiky haired man only offered his spouse a nervous laughter as he started to scratch the back of his neck. “Look,” he nervously try to say, “Sometimes you get a love letter from Namine that kinda makes you over think things that are already decided and...”

“What love letter?” Kairi wondered, giving Sora an odd glance before looking over to Namine. The pupils in Sora's eyes shrunk when he realized his mental flub too late. Namine, who had heard her name, was also giving him a funny look now.

“I didn't give you a love letter.” Namine insisted. Sora's face started to pale- most of the conversations at the picnic table slowly going to a halt to overhear this new drama.

“S-sure you did!” Sora nervously said. “It was in your sketchbook.”

The look Namine was giving him was becoming even more confused as she slowly shook his head at him. “I didn't...”

“That's funny,” Aqua spoke up, “Riku also gave me a love letter.”

“No I didn't.” Riku almost spat back. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“For the same reason that Ortensia would give me one.” Terra said, almost blurting it out like he had been holding it in all day.

“What?!” Ortensia nearly screeched in her own surprise. Her reaction almost making her spill the wine she was about to drink. “Terra dear, have you lost your mind?”

Now it was Terra's turn to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. “You said you left me a surprise by the cookbooks.”

“Sweetie, it was a recipe- not a love letter.”

“Just like how I wanted you to see a drawing I made of you and Kairi,” Namine pointed out to Sora.

“Wait,” Kairi objected, holding her arms out to get everyone's attention. “So if Terra, Aqua, and Sora got a love letter from Ortensia, Riku, and Namine, but they weren't the ones to write it, then who really did?”

The accusatory glares the adults gave each other caused a sudden spike of realization to hit little Neige. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that her mother took a rather amused sip from her wine glass.

“I know who wrote it.” Neige timidly spoke up. She shrank even more when she found that all the adults had their eyes on her now.

“Who?” half of them even asked. Some were more demanding than others, which only furthered the girl's guilt.

Neige felt herself flinch as she admitted. “I did.”

A hush fell over the adults now. It was Sora who gave a bewildered, “Why?”

“It was homework.” she said in a small voice. “I set it on the counter. It's due on Monday.”

The sigh of relief was almost unanimous between the adults and for a moment, Neige feared that she was going to get in trouble.

“That was where I found it.” Terra agreed. “Then when I was trying to stop Sora from seeing it, I set it on the table.”

“And I thought that paper was from one of my drawings!” Namine realized. “Which means Sora would have found it...”

“And I panicked. Stuck it in a nearby book and gave it to Riku.”

“Which I then gave to Aqua...”

“So I assumed it was from Riku.” Aqua paused for a moment before turning to Oswald. “You knew Neige had written it, didn't you?”

“Guilty as charged. You guys didn't notice that she wrote each verse about us?”

“But why didn't you say anything?”

“That would be my doing,” Sabrina spoke up, delightfully swirling her moscato. It was Sora who leaned over a bit to glare at her.

“Why must you always incite anarchy?” he asked- his voice almost boarding on annoyance.

“Because it's fun.” she replied with a charming grin. “I just gotta say though, the deduction skills in this family are simply outstanding.”

On that note, the atmosphere almost changed back into something completely normal again. Not that it stopped Neige from still wondering if she was going to be in trouble for accidentally causing the chaos. Sora was the one to pick up on her uneasy face.

“Sorry for totally wigging you out, kiddo.” he genuinely apologized. “We should have known better.”

“Some of us more than others.” Sabrina mumbled into her wine glass. Sora looked and her a gave her a scrunched face of dislike before looking back at Neige to give her a determined nod. Seeing the change so quickly did allow the girl to smile a bit. Pleased with the result, Sora reclined back and started to dig into his food.

Suddenly exhausted from this weird turnabout, Neige sagged against Sabrina. She felt her mother flinch but she didn't tell her to get off. Instead, Sabrina brought a hand around to stroke Neige against her cheek then absently twisting her hair in her finger.

“Here,” Sabrina offered as she leaned forward to get an empty shot glass. “You deserve this more than anyone.” With that, her mother reached for the white grape juice and the fruit platter. Sabrina filled the shot glass about half way with the juice, then picked out a strawberry from the fruit platter. Neige watched as her mother skillfully cut the strawberry in two and carefully started to squeeze its juice in the shot glass. She kept squeezing until the liquid was roughly the same color as the wine that sat in her wine glass.

Neige sat up a little as she carefully took the shot glass. At the same time, Sabrina picked up her glass and gave her daughter a nod. Neige nodded right back before the duo downed their drinks with a single gulp.

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secretly-tword-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Save The Queen

Ok, so I said I’d post this later but I just couldn’t resist!

Prompted by @randomtickleewriterstudent

Summary: Burr helps Hamilton play his chess game, in a very unexpected way...

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon in Manhattan, New York.

Alexander Hamilton stood outside President George Washington’s office, a stack of papers in hand. He knocked on the thin door twice, causing the room to rumble softly.

“Come in”, came the voice of George Washington. Hamilton obeyed, stepping inside to find Washington with a quill in his hand, writing some sort of letter.

“I have the papers”, Alexander said, making the other man look up. Washington smiled softly at the sight of one of his hardest and most loyal workers.

“Thank you Hamilton”, he said, “Put them on my desk”.

Hamilton nodded and walked by Washington’s desk, placing the papers down. As he did so, he accidentally knocked over Washington’s jar of ink, causing ink to spill all over the letter Washington was writing, ruining it.

Hamilton gasped: “I’m so sorry!”.

Washington just shook his head and looked up at him, “Don’t be, son. We all make mistakes”.

Yet Hamilton could tell that Washington was a little irritated.

“I could, erm, rewrite that letter for you if you want”, Hamilton offered.

“That would be nice”, Washington responded.

And so Hamilton sat at the presidents desk, writing out on a new sheet of parchment the words that came out of Washington’s mouth.

Once he was done, he dropped the quill, his hands a little red from witting so fast. Of course, Hamilton was used to this, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Washington noticed Hamilton’s red hand.

“Sorry, did I go to fast?”.

“No”, Hamilton responded.

George Washington thought for a moment. “You seem worked out Hamilton, would you like to take a break with me?”.

Hamilton’s face lit up, “I would love to, sir”.

Hamilton really was feeling worked out, from both the essays he placed on the president’s desk and the letter that he just wrote for him. He didn’t often take breaks, but he couldn’t say no to the president of the United States. And it was fun spending time with Washington, he was a smart man and had lots of insights to give, in one game in particular...

“Chess!” both men said at once.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and than burst out laughing. Washington was a very good chess player, and liked giving Hamilton new techniques and strategies to follow. Of course, for every time he played Washington, the better he got himself.

They both walked over to Washington’s couch’s and set up the board on his coffee table, each man on either side of it. They didn’t even have to ask each other about what colour to play; Washington always played as black and Hamilton always played as white.

“Would you like me to give you tips as we play?”, Washington asked.

“No”, Hamilton replied, “I’m feeling competitive today”.

Just than, there was another knock at the door, making the room quietly rumble.

“Come in”, Washington called.

In stepped a short man: Aaron Burr.

“Sir, may we have a discussion?”, Burr asked.

“Maybe later”, Washington responded.

Burr was about to walk out, when Hamilton said, “I have an idea! How about winner plays Burr!”.

Burr raised an eyebrow in confusion, before walking over to see the chess board on the table between the two men. Understanding, he nodded.

“Do you play chess?”, Washington asked.

Burr smiled, a common habit of his, “Yes, and I am quite good if I do say so myself”. Burr shook his head and added, “Sir”.

Washington chuckled, “You don’t have to call me that. For now”.

He patted a seat next to himself on the couch for Burr to take.

And so, the game began. Alexander advanced his pawn, to which Washington responded with a knight. Alexander took another pawn out to threaten that knight, and Washington advanced his knight further to the centre.

A few moves later, and Washington was already dominating the game. Snatching pieces, threatening pieces and taking control over most of the board.

Hamilton cursed under his breath every time another valuable piece was taken, wishing that he had accepted the other man’s guidance.

Burr seemed to be very interested in the game, observing the board and calculating many possible moves for each player and their outcomes in his head. He noticed Hamilton make a very stupid mistake with his queen, and had to try hard not to make a noise as to spoil the game.

Just than, Washington stood up, “Do you guys need a drink?”. The other two shook their heads. “Well than, if you’d excuse me, I’m just going to get some water for myself, be right back”. And with that, the president left the room.

Alexander and Burr sat in silence for a few moments, before Burr muttered: “Your in trouble”.

“What?”, Alexander asked.

“Oh, I mean, Washington will destroy you when you get back”.

Hamilton tilted his head, “Why?”.

Burr snickered, “Look at your queen Alexander”.

Hamilton looked at the board. “What? I don’t see anyth- OH SHIT.”

Burr chuckled to himself, “Yeah, that is a bit of a problem isn’t it”.

The problem they were talking about: Washington’s pawn was just diagonal from Hamilton’s queen, and he would surely take it on the next move. Crap, why didn’t he see that?

“Of course”, Burr said at a clearly frustrated Alexander, “You could cheat”.

“What?”

“I said, you could cheat. Quickly, move your queen before Washington gets back, hopefully he won’t notice anything”.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow, he rarely saw this side of Burr. Burr never cheated, at life or in a game. Yet Hamilton was ready to obey, as it could have been his only chance of winning the game. He did as Burr suggested, and moved his queen one space down.

A few moments later, Washington returned with a small glass of iced water in his hands.

“Now, where were we?”, he said, resuming his position on the couch. As soon as he glanced at the board before him, a smile spread across his face.

“Hamilton?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Did you move your queen when I was gone?”.

Crap.

“No”, Hamilton lied, fumbling with the buttons on his coat.

“Are you sure?”, Washington asked him, raising an eyebrow, a wide grin on his face.

“Yes”, Hamilton responded, tying to keep eye contact with the man as his knees wobbled.

“Come’ere son!”, Washington chuckled, walking to the other side of the board and sitting down on Hamilton’s couch, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulder. Hamilton squeaked.

“Now what if I told you”, Washington explained, “That this was all a test?”.

Hamilton’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping open. Washington chuckled at the look on the mans face, and Burr also couldn’t help letting out a humph of amusement. Hamilton shot Burr an ice-cutting look, to which he just responded with a finger to his lips, as if to say: ‘Don’t tell him I suggested it’.

“Now”, Washington said, “Since I know that your a cheater, it’s about time I give you your next lesson”.

With that, the president pounced on him, leaving him laid back on the couch.

“Never cheat at chess”, Washington said down at him, “Because there are consequences”.

Hamilton gulped,”What kind of consequences sir?”.

“Well, glad you asked”, Washington said, a smug smirk glued to his face; “You see, the other day, I went in to check on you at your house, and I saw something very interesting through your window. You were play fighting with your friend John Laurens, is that correct?”.

Hamilton’s eyes widened once again, “Uh, umm....”

“Oh, my eyes never deceive me son. But you know, you have always seemed to me like the ticklish type”.

“Wait-sir-NO!”, Hamilton cried, but it was too late, Washington had started clawing his quick fingers up and down his ribs.

“No what?”, Washington asked, not slowing his attack.

Hamilton tossed his head back in hysterical laughter, trying to squirm away to no avail.

“Whats wrong son, are you a little ticklish?”, Washington teased, making his hands towards the other man’s belly, scratching and teasing at the thin cloth of his shirt.

Burr watched the whole thing from the other couch, with a smile on his face.

Hamilton thrashed and squirmed.

“BUHUHHHUHUHUHUHURRR HEHEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHE!”, he begged, squealing as Washington swirled his pointer finger into his belly-button.

Burr just chuckled, “Washington was right, there are consequences for cheating you know”.

Oh, the irony.

“SIHIHHIHIR, WAHAHAHAHASHINGTON, PLEHEHEHEHEHASE!!!”.

“Please what?”, Washington asked, “What is it Hamilton, do you want more tickles?”.

“NOHOHHOHO!”, he cried, “NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE THIHIHIHHIHIHNGS!!!!”.

“Things?” Washington questioned, “Can you not say ‘tickle’ Hamilton?”.

Hamilton turned crimson, squirming around and kicking lightly in his laughter.

Washington tried out the mans neck, which was exposed from him tossing his head back in laughter. He shrieked and pinned it down to his chest.

“NOHOHOHHOHO WHYHYHHYHYHY?!?”

“Why? Because you cheated, thats why Hamilton. And you thought I wouldn’t even notice”, Washington teased.

This was torture, just torture. Yet of course, Alexander didn’t exactly hate it.

Ok, he loved it.

But why would he not? He was playing with Washington like a little kid after a long day at school. And the feeling of just laughing freely was...lifting. Like the worlds problems vanished for those moments, and he was just having fun with a friend.

But that still didn’t stop the man from begging and squirming.

“Wait, stop”, Burr said to Washington, making him halt his attack. A huge smile spread across the shorter’s face: “I have an idea”.

“Wait, Bur, don’t you dare!”, Alexander threatened, as the other approached him and Washington.

Burr’s eyes flashed, “Don’t I dare what Alexander? This?”.

“No! Wait-”, Burr started squeezing the sides of Hamilton’s stomach with both hands, which he knew Hamilton couldn’t stand.

“NOHOHHO HEHEHEHEEHELP AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”, he cried, his laughter ticking up a pitch.

Washington smiled down at the scene before him, “Oh, your in trouble now son”. He went back to Ham’s neck.

“YOHOHOHOHOHOUR NOHOHOHHOHOT MYHYHYHYHY DAHAHAHAHAHAD!”, Hamilton laughed, the sensations almost unbearable.

“And you, son, are not a fair chess player”, Washington responded teasingly, watching as the man completely lost his mind under the attacks.

“I was right Hamilton, Washington would destroy you when you got back!”, Burr slipped out.

Washington stopped his fingers and looked up at Burr. Burr, realising his mistake, cupped a hand over his mouth.

“What was that Burr?”, Washington asked.

“N-nothing”.

“Did you warn Hamilton about the queen?”.

“N-no”

“Did you suggest that he cheat?”

“N-no”

“Are you ticklish?”.

Washington stepped over to Burr’s side of the couch.

“N-no”.

Hamilton chuckled, sitting up, “Nothing he just said was true, sir”.

“Hamilton!”, Burr exclaimed, feeling betrayed. Hamilton just shrugged.

“You shouldn’t have done that Burr, attacked when I warned you not to”.

“And”, Washington added, “There is a punishment for assisting in cheating too”.

And soon, Burr was trapped on the couch, letting out streams of giggly laughter.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon in Manhattan, New York. And a very playful one to!

Oh my dog I’m blushing so hard right now just from writing this! Hope you enjoyed, and my back in a little hungry so please give some feedback!

#hamiltonticklefic #hamiltontickle #ticklish!alexander #ticklish!hamilton #lee!hamilton #ler!washington #fluff #platonicfluff #ticklefic #prompted

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nour386 · 4 years

Text

Furry Fortune teller

Stan and Ford are stuck with a dilemma, Filbrick has told them to either find a way for Shanklin to earn his keep, or else the Stab Possum will be kicked back to the streets. Can they find a way to save their pet from the cold cruel outside world?

also on ao3!

This was my piece for the @lost-legends-zine. I hoep you enjoy this short adventure with the stans as they try to save their beloved pet possum.

“I can’t believe pop called me bologna!” Stanley threw himself onto his bed with a huff.

“He didn’t call you bologna,” Stanford corrected. “He called your idea bologna.”

“That’s the same thing! My ideas come from my head, my head is me, so he’s calling me bologna.” Stanley threw up his arms angrily.

“To be fair, you didn’t have much of a compelling argument,” Stanford said from behind his math book. “You can’t say he’s got stage fright to explain why we can’t show Pop Shanklin’s laser eyes.”

“I can too say that,” Stanley said. He slunk down to the floor. “I mean, you can’t prove he can’t do it just because you haven’t seen it. It’s like Santa or the Tooth fairy. Just because you didn’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

“I can’t argue with you there. However, Pop isn’t going to take that kind of reasoning.”

“I know. It stinks.” Stanley flailed on the floor of the bedroom. “Like old socks.”

“We’ve already tried testing his strength, agility and speed.” Stanford pointed to the obstacle courses that they had set up in their bedroom. “And he hasn’t shown any progress in any of them.”

“He’s made progress in being the toughest possum. Right Shanklin?” Stanley asked.

The stab-possum in question gave a small yawn before curling back to sleep. He’d nested in the shirt that Stan still hadn’t returned to the Sibling Brothers.

“Oh yeah, he’s tough,” Stanley said, grinning.

“Tough isn’t going to be good enough.” Stanford pursed his lips. “Pop said we needed something sellable with Shanklin or else he’ll put him out on the streets. Remember?”

“Don’t worry. This is just like in the latest issue of the Stilted Investigator Dogs! The pack is about to lose their dog house to some snooty poodle who wants to make it into a snooty salad bar unless they can raise the funds and stop her.”

Stanley continued his explanation of the plot line while Stanford nodded along, asking the occasional question about how dogs are able to communicate with humans yet still need to earn money.

“If they can talk to people why don’t they just put on a show and wow a bunch of locals and make money that way?” Stanford asked.

“I don’t know. Besides, if they did that they wouldn’t be able to stop the bank robber and get paid reward money for bein’ heroes!” Stanley said excitedly.

“That sounds contrived.” Stanford rolled his eyes.

“You’re just sayin’ that because there isn’t numbers on every page,” Stanley defended. “I bet if you read the first issue you’d see it’s really cool.” Stanley jumped to his feet and started to rummage through his drawers. “Now where did I leave it? I was reading it last night.”

He felt something bump against his leg. Looking down Stanley saw Shanklin with something in his mouth.

“Whatcha got there buddy?” Stanley asked, reaching down for whatever Shanklin was holding. “C’mon Slick, let ‘er go.”

Shanklin held tight with his teeth, but he was no match for the might of the one and only Stanley Pines. After a minor shake, and the accidental vaulting of Shanklin onto the lower bunk, Stanley found the comic he was looking for.

“Oh my gosh!” Stanley cried. “Sixer, did you see that?”

“I don’t think a possum shot-put will win us many friends,” Stanford deadpanned. “The last thing we need is some animal rights group giving Pop a whole bunch of calls.”

“No, not that!” Stanley bounded over to his brother. “Look, he brought me the comic I was looking for. It's like he knew what I was thinking.”

“He’s in the room with us. He could have just recognised what you were looking for from last night,” Stanford said. He watched as Shanklin scratched at Stan’s leg. “But that does raise the possibility of him having near-canine intelligence.”

“No way. He’s psychic. Like Ma!” Stanley waved his arms excitedly, dropping something from his comic book. “Oh no, my book mark.”

“You used a candy bar as a bookmark?” Stanford questioned. He watched with bemusement as Shanklin snatched the treat mid-fall and scampered under the bed.

“Hey give that back!” Stanley reached under the bed. “I was gonna have it for a midnight snack, but I didn’t stay up long enough.”

“Maybe that was why he took your comic?”

“Nuh-uh,” Stanley said, successfully pulling Shanklin out from under the bed by his tail. “He’s a mind reader possum, like Ma. But less hairy.”

“Probably shouldn’t say that around Ma.” Stanford stifled a giggle.

“That’s why you’re the smart one,” Stanley said, grinning.

----------------------

"So you're saying he needs a bigger curtain?" Ma Pines said, grinning.

"No way," Stanley said. "If we make it any bigger then no one'll see him. And then what's the point of setting up the show if no one is gonna see him?"

"Mystique, of course." Ma held up a fabric light. It was covered in stars and constellations. "When you start a show, you need to make a grand entrance. And what, my little free spirit, could be grander than a shadow puppet show?" She pinched Stanley's cheek before getting back to work.

"She does have a point," Stanford said from his perch on the floor. He had his nose in a fortune telling book, the current chapter titled 'Onion predictions and you!' "If we want a large number of people to come and watch Shanklin, then we'll need something really eye catching."

"He's Shanklin! What could be more attention-hogging' than that?" Stanley asked. "How many people have seen a stab-possum before?"

Shanklin was taking another nap, this time on an empty seat in the living room. He had been rushed downstairs the moment the brothers had agreed to ask their mother for help. And while he wasn't necessarily pleased with being so roughly picked up and moved, he was rather excited to smell the delicious lunch that Ma had been cooking.

"Everyone's seen a possum before, Stanley," Stanford said.

"Yeah, but he's a stab-possum!" Stanley insisted.

"The suckers won’t know that. Without his knife, they'll think he's some regular old possum, like your Pa," Ma said. She cut a small square from the fabric in her hand and laid it on Shanklin's back. "Oh, this could make a nice cape for you."

"Well they're dumb," Stanley muttered.

"Maybe instead one belly-aching, maybe you can help your Ma with cleaning up all this possum hair." Ma nodded to the lint roller.

"Aw, why do I have to do chores?" Stanley huffed.

"’Cause - uh, we need him prepped for his show," Ma said quickly. "Yeah, we're gonna need to clean Little Shanklin before his show so that the customers see his best side. You don't want him to get a bad picture do you? Imagine how bad the publicity would be. 'Failed Possum Performer Ruins Tourist Ice Creams with Fur.'"

"Oh no! Not the ice cream!" Stanley gasped.

"Yes the ice cream!" Ma smiled wickedly. "Are you gonna let all those delicious treats get spoiled by Shanklin's messy hair?"

"Never!" Stanley cried. He brandished the lint roller over his head as he ran to clean Shanklin of his loose fur.

"And make sure you get your clothes clean too," his mother called after him. She picked up her fabric once more and started to measure out the length of the curtain bar her sons had decided upon.

"You don't really think that would ruin his show do you?" Stanford had tucked away his book for now. He'd read enough methods of predicting the future that he was seeing stars.

"That depends on how you define 'ruin'," Ma said, smiling. "You know what they say, there's no such thing as bad publicity."

"But if people spread the word of how messy Shanklin is, then less people will come our way," Stanford said.

"That's why we need a good show to put on. How often do you think a tourist comes to this broad walk?"

"Once a vacation?" Stanford adjusted his glasses.

"Correct," Ma said. "And if new people are coming every day, then we've got new people to scam. And if more good news spreads about how amazing Shanklin's fortune telling is, then people will more likely take the risk of coming to see his show. And do you know why?"

"Because people could get their ice cream before coming to watch Shanklin's show?" Stanford asked.

"I knew you'd say that," Ma said, grinning. She reached down and pressed Stanford's nose, who giggled in response. "I was thinking that curiosity killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," Stanford rhymed. He was about to enjoy a well-deserved break when he heard his brother scream with pain, followed by a loud thud.

"Sixer, help! The lint roller attacked me!"

Stanford stood up to see his brother wrapped in the lint roller paper. It looked like a poorly designed Halloween costume, but stickier.

“I’m coming,” Stanford sighed.

--------------------------------

“Come one, come all!” Stan cheered. He danced along the boardwalk, catching the eye of every tourist and uninterested beach goer. “If you’re bored outta your mind from seeing the same old sand and water, then boy have I got what you’re missing!”

“I have been getting bored,” a tall man said. He wore a line of sunblock across his nose.

“I do hate sand and water,” the woman next to him agreed.

“What do you wanna show me? Is it a dinosaur?” The child with the couple asked.

“Even better!” Stanley hopped from one foot to the next. “A possum that’ll tell you the future!”

“That’s so cool!” A grin spread along the child’s face. “Mum! Dad! Can we go see the magic possum? Please please please?”

“It’s not by the beach is it?” His mother pursed her lips. Stanley wondered why she wore a swimsuit if she hated the beach this much, but chose to not say so out loud.

“No way. The sand makes his outfit uncomfy,” Stanley said.

“Well, if the possum is that understanding about the dangers of sand, then we have to go see them,” the child’s mother said smiling.

Stanley ran ahead, leading the vacationing family, and a few curious passersby towards Shanklin’s stand. His Ma had taken her crystal ball and its table out of the pawn shop and onto the boardwalk. Sitting on top of the crystal ball, in the centre of a mess of tarot cards, was the possum in question. A star-patterned hat adorned his head as Shanklin looked out at the audience. The possum gave a happy squeak when he saw Stanley return.

“Now Ladies, Gents and Germs, who's brave enough to have their fortune told by the most magical possum in the world?" Ma asked the crowd.

A young girl with pigtails, looking only slightly younger than Stan and Ford, bravely marched over to Shanklin's table.

Ma grinned. "Ah, a brave young lass aren't we?"

"All who approach Shanklin must place an offering in the gift bucket," Stanley tried his best to put on a mysterious voice. He held out a bucket towards the girl. She ran back to her parents and returned with a five dollar bill, which she dropped in the bucket before staring at the possum.

"Mr. Shanklin, where will I have the most fun today?" she asked.

"Take out a card, tell us what it says, and he'll tell you what he sees," Stanley said.

The girl nodded and drew a card from the many that surrounded the crystal ball.

"The Chariot?" she read.

Shanklin chattered his teeth to her.

"Sorry, I don't understand possum," she said in a small voice.

"Normally, a translation costs extra. But for such a pretty little lady, Stanley will give it to you for free," Ma said quickly, before Stanley could shove his bucket in her face again.

"Sure thing." Stanley put his bucket down next to the table. He tucked something into his pocket before walking over to the girl.

"The great Shanklin says that a Chariot card tells you of great enjoyment at the bumper cars at fun land. Or maybe with a toy car car you could get at the local pawn shop,” he added with a wink.

"What if my card was upside down?" the girl asked. "And I read it without turning it around?"

"Well, Shanklin says..." Stanley paused to let the possum in question squeak. "The exact opposite. If it was upside down then you should be careful, you might get bored out of your mind from the bumpers. Or maybe you should check out a doll from that pawn shop instead."

The girl gave Stanley a serious look before putting her card back. "Thank you, Mr. Shanklin," she said, before running back to her parents.

There many hushed whispers as Ma walked around, a small bucket in her hand. "So who’s up next? Shanklin takes advance payments." She grinned as various people dug out their wallets and threw a dollar or two into her bucket.

“Line up and Shanklin will read your fortunes!” Stanley said.

“Psst, Stan! That wasn’t the plan!” A harsh whisper came from somewhere unseen.

Stanley grinned. “C’mon Ford, this is more fun.”

“If we give a wrong prediction, people will be upset,” Stanford insisted. He poked his head out from under the table cloth, careful that no one from the crowd could see him.

“Half these people are here for the fun of it. I don��t think they’ll mind a bologna fortune,” Stanley said grinning, his bucket already full of ‘translation’ fees.

“Can you at least give a couple of the ones I’m suggesting?” Stanford asked. “This book is heavy, and writing predictions super-fast isn’t easy.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna join me up here?” Stanley whispered. “It’s like storytelling, but more fun!”

“I’ll stick to the facts,” Stanford muttered.

“Here’s a fact. After this pop won’t call Shanklin a waste of space ever again,” Stanley said grinning.

“Definitely,” Stanford agreed.

----

Make sure to check out the companion piece for this fic found here by @garbagegnomes

#Gravity Falls #Staley Pines #Stan pines #Grunkle Stan #Stanford Pines #Ford pines #Grunkle Ford #Fic #Lost legends #Epilogue: Lost legends Zine #Caryn Pines #ma pines #Shanklin The Stab possum #mine

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whumppile · 5 years

Text

I’ll pray that sleep comes easy

(AN: I accidentally came up with this idea this morning when I was trying to get back to sleep and since I've finally got a day off I got to write it yay!just a little warning this does have a little bit of 'recovering alcoholic tony' so if that's going to trigger anything for you be safe and maybe skip this story? Love you all)

“Tony, you need to sleep.”

The mechanic ignored Rhodey’s very sound advice and reached for a bottle from the shelf, fingers dancing over labels until he’d found a whiskey he liked.

“What I need is a drink and some Ritalin.”

Rhodey snatched the bottle out of Tony’s hand, anger thinning his patience out faster than usual. “You promised Pepper you’d stop this.”

Tony reached for it again, sour mood worsened by being told what to do in his own lab. “She’s used to it.”

Rhodey evaded his grasp and tried again, tone lower as he held Tony’s gaze. “Peter’s not and you promised him too.”

That was a low blow but not a word of it was a lie and that's what hurt the most. Tony blew out an irritated breath as he walked away, throwing an arm out and sweeping bits of scattered projects from his workbench.

He was throwing a tantrum and he knew it but the loud clang of metal as it crashed onto the floor was cathartic and that was enough of an excuse for his guilt to let it slide.

Rhodey sighed. “He’s fine. We got him out.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face, still turned away from his friend as he shook his head. “He should never have been there in the first place. That building should have never come down. He should never have been put through that again!”

His words turned into shouts by the end of it and he turned to face Rhodey, hands trembling as he crumbled just a little, voice softening.

“I should have saved him this time. I was right there and he had the suit but it wasn’t enough.”

He was quiet, pleading with Rhodey like he could turn back time and fix it but he couldn't.

Rhodey, having known the man long enough to know that the anger was gone and all that was left was the hurt, stepped forward and gripped Tony by his shoulders.

“You can’t protect him from everything.”

He knew that but it wouldn't stop him from trying.

“He wasn’t in there for long, Tones and you made Friday and Bruce do every scan and test they could. He’s okay.”

:::::::::

Peter was fine. I mean, the cast on his arm was annoying and he still had a headache from the concussion he’d gotten when the roof collapsed on him. But the deep cuts over his face had healed enough that he’d graduated from bandages to the bright teenage mutant ninja turtle bandaids Bruce got him.

And sure, having a building collapse on him in the middle of a mission was NOT the way he’d wanted his Friday night to go but he was okay. Really. He just wished the fear and panic from it would go away.

It was bad enough that he’d been buried under rubble but when that rubble reminded him of another collapsed building it just ramped up the anxiety. And having a panic attack through coms and begging for Tony to save him while the Avengers could all hear was just embarrassing.

Peter wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be able to look them in the eye again. And to make matters worse he’d freaked Tony out so bad the man had refused to sleep for the past three days.

The sound of his own voice cracking as he’d sobbed for Tony rang through his head again and he shook it away.

“Mr Stark, you gotta help me, please! I’m stuck! I can’t get out! I can’t breathe! Help me!”

God, he should have just shut up and waited quietly.

The other Avengers hadn’t made fun of him, not even Sam and Bucky, they had all just shouted to him over the coms, telling him they were getting him out.

Tony had sounded frantic, digging through rubble with his hands until the paint on his suit had scraped off. When he’d finally dug the teenager out he’d grabbed him in a hug and held on until Peter had finally stopped crying.

Great work Spider-man.

“I bet Black Widow never cries when she gets trapped.” He’d muttered it to himself, sulking in his room and unaware of the other Avenger in his doorway.

“No, but she does insist on being knocked out for any dentist appointment longer than a cleaning.”

Peter turned around at the voice to see Clint leaning on the door frame. Peter didn’t say anything as the archer strolled into his room and took a seat on the chair next to Peters bed.

“Look, kid, we all have trauma and shit that scares us. A kid your age shouldn’t have two building’s collapse on them in their lifetime let alone one. No one's going to look down on you because you freaked out. We would have been more worried if you hadn’t.”

Peter looked down at his sneakers and scratched idly at the bandaid on his cheek, anxiety rippling through him. “I just feel bad that I worried Mr Stark so much. I know he’s not sleeping. I heard Miss Pots talking to Dr Banner about it.”

Clint watched the droop of Peters' shoulders before nodding. There was no use lying to the kid.

“Yeah, but we’ll get him sorted. He’ll be okay.”

Peter kicked at the carpet, annoyed at himself. “Yeah but it’s my fault. I just keep screwing things up and getting in the way and-”

Clint smacked the back of his hand against Peters' shoulder, frowning at the weight the kid was putting on himself. “Hey, you didn’t screw anything up. The building collapsed while you were evacuating people from it. You got everyone out and you got yourself to the safest place you could before it came down. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Peter sniffled, wiping a hand over his nose as his eyes stung with tears he really didn’t want to fall.

“But Mr Stark-”

Clint leaned an elbow on his knee as he leaned forward, searching for Peters' eyes were they stayed glued to his shoelaces. “Peter, Tony has had a lot of people that he cared about, and that were supposed to care about him, let him down. You are not and could never be one of them. Do you know how many kids I have?”

Peter sniffed, not seeing the relevance. “Three?”

Clint nodded. “Now that makes me an expert Dad so let me let you in on a secret about the whole parent thing, okay?”

He'd never said it out loud, he'd been too afraid of losing it if he named it but Peter did see Tony as his dad and he wiped a hand over his eyes as he leaned forward, listening eagerly.

Clint looked into the teenager’s eyes and wished he didn’t see so much loss in them.

He softened his voice and let a small smile lift his features. “There is nothing in this world that we wouldn't do for our kids. Not all parents are good ones but the ones that are, like yours were, like Tony is, would give up everything just to make sure you’re okay. So, trust me when I say Tony doesn’t want you blaming yourself or feeling bad. Especially when it’s not your fault.”

Peter’s mouth tugged down at the sides and he ducked his head down like he was fighting against tears. Clint stood and took a seat next to Peter on his bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and letting him collect himself.

It took a few minutes before Peter sniffed and blinked the tears away, taking a breath and evening out his voice enough to ask. “Hey, Mr Hawkeye? If Mr Starks my dad, what does that make you?”

Clint smiled and squeezed him tight. “Your crazy awesome uncle.”

Peter laughed, letting his shoulders shake with it in Clint's hold and he felt a little better.

That was until night came.

::::::

Tony sat at his desk and stared at the shelf of liquor he’d made Rhodey leave alone.

He should have gotten rid of them, he knew that. They were just a temptation and he wanted to stay sober for all the people that he needed to protect from his stupid drunk self but nothing else calmed his roaring anxiety like the burn of alcohol and he was weak.

It was three AM and while it was the fourth night he hadn’t slept, he didn’t plan on changing that.

Sleep led to nightmares which lead to panic attacks and he wasn’t signing up for his brains thrilling rerun of Peter trapped in that building, thank you very much.

He saw it enough during the day. God, the kid's screams and sobs through the coms had almost killed him.

But he shouldn't drink. He couldn't, he promised.

“That building on the south side’s come down.”

Deep breaths, Stark.

“Wait, where’s Peter?”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“I don’t- I think he’s-”

He's fine. He’s fine.

“TELL ME HE'S NOT IN THAT BUILDING!”

God, someone make it stop.

“Mr Stark, help me!”

Fuck he really was sleep deprived. That one had sounded so real.

Tony jumped up from his seat and stormed over to the line of sins on the shelf, pulling the vodka down. He hated himself the second he touched it but that didn’t stop him from reaching for the lid.

“Please! I’m trapped!”

Tony’s head snapped up, heart thundering hard in his chest because...fuck. That wasn’t a hallucination or a flashback. That was real.

He dropped the bottle, too panicked to even be aware of the shattering glass and spray of spirits across the floor as he ran.

“Friday, where’s Peter?”

The AI answered as her creator sprinted from his lab, nothing else on his mind but his need to get to his kid. Right. The Fuck. Now.

“In his bedroom, Boss.”

Shit, had someone broken in? Had something happened? Were they under attack?

Tony’s legs had never carried him faster and he barreled his way into Peter's room, ready to kill whoever he needed to keep Peter safe only to find there was no intruder. There was no alien or death squad, no dangerous threat of any kind.

Peter was asleep and having a nightmare.

The kid was tangled in sheets, crying out and thrashing as he struggled to free himself from his cotton prison.

Tony was frozen in the doorway for a second, brain trying to catch up with the fact that Peter was in fact safe. He didn’t move until one of Peters screams of terror broke into a sob.

“Da-a-ad!”

Tony didn’t need to think about what he needed to do, that word snapped something inside of him awake and he jolted forward the few meters to Peters bed.

“Peter, wake up.”

He reached for him, tearing his sheets away and gripping his arms, shaking him a little, trying to rouse him from his horror-filled dreamscape.

“Peter!”

The teenager’s sobs stuttered as his eyes snapped open and he lay frozen on the bed, hyperventilating for the second it took for his eyes to register Tony in front of him.

“You’re okay, Pete. It was just a nightmare.”

His face crumpled once he realised who it was that was gripping him and he started crying all over again, reaching for his mentor with sleep clumsy fingers.

“Mr Stark.”

Tony took a seat on the bed and pulled the kid until he was sitting up, trembling beneath his hands. He wrapped his arms around him, rocking the two of them as Peter wet his shirt with huge heaving sobs.

“I w-was back there and I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t find you.”

“You’re okay. You’re safe now, kiddo. I gotcha.”

Tony pulled in deep slow breaths as he tried to calm the residual waves of panic leftover from his scare. “Just breathe, Pete. We’re okay.”

The poor boy was shaking against his chest and while Tony felt like crying too he didn’t have time for his own meltdown. With his arms still around the sobbing teenager, because he was clever like that, he took his anxiety demon and put it in a vibranium box and sealed it. That little shit wasn't getting out until he knew Peter was okay.

He steadied himself with another deep breath and softened his voice, forcing it to be as steady and calm as it had ever been. He held Peter close and brushed a hand over the back of his head, fingers massaging the soft curls that lay at the back of the boy's neck.

“I’m right here, Petey. I’m not leaving you. You’re okay.”

Peter’s crying was quietening down, settling into small whimpers and sniffles against Tony’s chest but his back was still jumping up under his mentor's hands with each jerky gasp and Tony held tight.

He kept up the steady stream of reassurances to soothe himself as much as Peter, making sure the kid knew he wasn't going to let go until he was ready.

The room was dark and Tony found his eyes blinking slower and slower as he held the shivering boy. Peters' fingers were already curled securely into his shirt so he felt like he'd be okay to move around a bit.

He held Peter to his chest, making it clear he didn’t have to let go as he repositioned them, swinging his legs onto the mattress and leaning back against Peters headboard.

“We’re okay. You’re safe with me, Pete.”

He reached a hand down and pulled the comforter from where Peters thrashing had let it slip to the side, and pulled it over the both of them, tucking it around his ward.

Although it had been his job to make Peter feel better he found that not only had he managed to lock his anxiety away but Peters weight against his chest had silenced it completely.

The teenager was warm and safe in his arms and he let himself relax against the headboard, small puffs of air against his neck smoothing out and deepening as the kid calmed down.

Peter lifted his good wrist to his eyes and wiped the tears away, wishing he would stop hiccuping so pathetically. He should have felt more embarrassed but Mr Stark hadn’t even blinked an eye at holding him and it was the only thing making him feel better.

The comforting ramble of reassurances had quieted as his own crying had and although Mr Stark had made himself comfy there on his bed, Peter was worried that he’d pull away any second and leave him in the dark again.

He really didn’t want him to leave.

He hid his face in his mentor's shirt and scrounged up the scattered bits of courage he had left to get his voice to work.

“M-Mr Stark?”

Tony’s arms tightened against him minutely but there was no answer and Peter closed his eyes as he pushed the small words out into the air.

“Can you stay? I don’t want to be by myself.”

The room was quiet and Peter suddenly felt as if he’d dropped every bit of bravery he’d managed to find. He pulled away, sitting up as he backtracked, wiping a hand over his face.

“Forget about it. You don’t have to- I’m being stupid and-”

Of all the things that could have come out of Tony’s mouth to interrupt him he never thought it would be a snore.

He sat there on Tony’s knee, the man's arms still looped around him, and stared in amazement at the sleeping face of one Tony Stark.

He was out like a light, head leaning back, soft snores coming from his mouth and Peter smiled.

They were okay, the both of them.

Peter tugged the blanket back up his shoulders and laid back down on Tony’s chest, curling up in his arms as Tony instinctively wrapped his arms back around him.

“Night, Dad.”

And finally, for the first time in three days, the two of them slept through the night.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010922

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13348917/1/

let me know what you think?

#tony stark #iron dad #fanfic #mine #spiderman #peter parker #whump #emotional whump #nightmares #insomnia

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platypan · 5 years

Text

Greg is a Chaos Fairy, Wirt needs to learn to Say No, and Sara's day just got Cursed With Being Interesting--complete!

Chapter 7: All's Well that Ends Well

To Sara’s right, in the darkness, the barely-visible phosphorescent bridge suddenly lit in a whirling column of green light. The darkness withdrew to show a black horse with a mane and tail of smoke, and coals for eyes--standing stiff as a plastic model--Wirt, half off the horse, some extra mysterious flailing appendages, and in the middle of everything, the goblin priest. Wirt and the appendages fell to the cobbles at the end of the bridge with a metallic clatter, and Sara began trying to inch around towards him.

“You dare much, Priest,” said an echoey voice.

“Jacqueline la Corriveau!” he laughed. “I have your cutlass, and your horse, and your love--”

The little pile of appendages and Wirt disentangled, and a very small person in a nun habit dodged around the priest’s arm and on to the bridge, the cutlass flailing in one hand behind her. “Oh, my darling,” she cried. “Jacqueline!”

“You do not have my love, it appears,” said the voice, and a dark arm, green-tinged, slapped over the edge of the bridge. Its knuckles whitened. The nun dropped the cutlass and ran to throw her tiny weight into helping, but washed back in a surge of river water that covered the bridge, and slapped them all with icy spray. When it ebbed, and they wiped their eyes, a woman in rags stood in the center of the bridge. She looked as though she’d been formed of black marble, her hair in a sweeping bun of dangling braids, her jaw defiant, and her every motion graceful. Sara’s spine straightened of its own accord.

“Are you well,” the nun threw her arms around the spirit’s waist.

“Well, I’m dead.” She held the nun, stroking the head of her habit. “Where have you been.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” the nun started to sob, and the spirit rocked her, eyes fixed on the priest. The whirlwind of green light whipped their clothes around.

“What do you do here, godless man of the church?”

“Even in death, you are indeed a beauti--”

“Do not continue,” she advised. “Why have you taken my old friend captive?”

Sara edged along the edge of the path, as far as possible from the bridge, the green windy light, and Deckenbrode. She crept around the front of the horse, having a vague idea about the danger of kicking hooves, and grabbed Wirt’s shoulder. “Are you alright?!”

“Are you? Where’s Greg?!” he whispered back, reaching out, and then yanking his hand back. “I--I think we both--” he oofed as Greg scuttled under the motionless horse to throw both arms around him. “Greg!”

“You guys have to stop wandering off,” Greg whispered, grabbing for Sara, and the three of them squeezed each other for a few seconds before Wirt and Sara leapt away, blushing hotly.

“What’s going on,” Sara jerked her thumb at the bridge. “I mean I’ve met Deckenbrode, but what.” Her hand accidentally brushed his, and they both jerked away.

Wirt pointed, shielding his mouth. “That’s the priest?!”

“Yeah, he attacked a witch,” Sara whispered back.

“She’s so much better than our witch, Wirt,” Greg sighed.

“Anway!” Wirt flapped his arms, quietly, to himself. “The priest is evil! He framed her--” here he pointed at the taller woman on the bridge, “--That’s Jacqueline, the ghost, la Corriveau--for murder, and now she haunts the bridge--”

“Oh, we’ve heard about her,” Greg nodded, holding his frog up to see over the bridge railing they were crouched behind.

Wirt pulled him back down. “Yeah, okay, the person hugging her is her ex-fiancee, the nun, Henriette-I-did-not-get-a-last-name, and this is her horse--friend--the orc is controlling it with some--some God thing--” he knocked on the statue-like leg they hid behind, “--and the orc priest’s trying to steal her pirate treasure, from when she was a pirate.”

“Pirates,” Greg bounced on his toes.

“What in heaven’s name,” Phoebe landed on Sara’s head. “He is rather an orc, isn’t he.”

“This is Phoebe,” Sara waved upwards.

“I am a ruby-crested kinglet,” Phoebe announced and Wirt’s eyes narrowed as he mouthed it, nodding.

“You will submit,” the priest was shouting, his tiny tail flicking back and forth in excitement.

“That orc’s tail’s got a blue bow on it,” Greg pointed out, fascinated, and Phoebe blinked.

“That it does.”

“Why are you even here,” Jacqueline la Corriveau called back, her rags and hair wafting around her.

He made a slavering noise around his tusks. “I won’t give your horse back until you tell me the secret.”

“What bloody secret,” the column of green light whipped faster.

“Sara,” Phoebe cheeped, flitting to land on the horse to see what was going on. “Wirt, also, sorry--I think we should either be on that side of the bridge, or we ought to leave now. Deckenbrode is worse than--”

“I know!” Sara whispered, leaning out between the bridge railing and the horse.

Wirt swallowed, eyeballing the middle of the bridge, “...that huge goblin man is taking up this whole end of the bridge. We could get a rock, and--” he set his jaw, swallowing.

“Okay!” Greg leapt to his feet, and Sara grabbed them both back.

“Calm down!”

“I got this,” said Phoebe, whipping in to scratch Deckenbrode’s face, and Sara grabbed Greg’s hand, he grabbed Wirt’s, and they dashed onto the bridge and across to where the nun was finally pulling away, wiping her eyes. She beckoned them close, and stood in front of them, holding the cutlass.

The priest roared, swiping the air with his four-inch claws, but Phoebe dodged his flailing, yanking hair out of his ear with her beak, and flitted over to land on Wirt’s hat. “It’s certainly a good thing kinglets are such agile fliers,” she panted, as he stomped around, shaking the stonework of the whole bridge. “Holy tomatoes.” She exchanged an indignant chirrupy noise with Sara’s fierce nod, turning in a little circle around Wirt’s hat to catalog Greg, Wirt, and Sara safely in the middle of the bridge. Jaqueline and Henriette stood before them, and there were at least a couple of yards of bridge between them and the roaring priest.

“The treasure, spirit,” he snarled, smacking the Cheval Gauvin on the shoulder. “Surrender it, or I order this demon to kill that disobedient sister.”

“There is no treasure,” Jacqueline le Corriveau screamed back, her eyes lighting with green fire from within, and her arms stretching toward him.

“I think there is,” said the nun, touching her shoulder, holding out the cutlass between her forefinger and thumb.

“Henriette,” Jacqueline paused. “My love. No. She sent me the Cheval Gauvin, and the cutlass.” She smelled of sulphur, but considering her state of being, thankfully nothing worse.

“There is more to the cutlass,” the nun sighed, pulling out a pair of glasses and squinting at the hilt, before tucking them away again.

“--don’t cut yourself--” Jacqueline reached out, and Henriette took her hand and held it.

“With this salt water I summon thee,” she rubbed the butt of the cutlass up her cheekbone, and then knelt, and slid it spinning along the ground at the goblin priest. He snatched it up, holding it over his head, as the edge of it burst into black flame.

Jacqueline yelled “Henry, what are you doing?!” --and the goblin priest screamed.

The flames flared up in lines over his arm, and body, then vanished in smoke. He smacked at his face as it distorted, choking and gagging, until a watermelon-sized glob of smoke bounced out and spun in place at the foot of the bridge, before forming into a sinuous column of smoke, vaguely-human shaped, with horns, or maybe antlers.

“Wowza Fudgesicles,” Greg whispered to Phoebe, who had beeped, startled.

“Let’s just step back a bit further,” she suggested, and Wirt and Sara hauled the struggling Greg back another few feet along the bridge.

“...hello, my Jacqueline,” the new horned smoke-creature hissed, its voice all gibbering echoes. Sara shuddered, suddenly nostalgic for Auntie Greenleaf’s calm chorus. “My love, my--”

“You,” Jacqueline stepped back. “I owe you nothing, you set me free with no--”

“I will have your heart one day,” the shadow grew, spreading. “Its brilliance shall burn me.”

“Why can’t these people keep their feelings off you,” Henriette frowned, stepping in front of her.

“She is really pretty,” Sara touched her curls, frowning, and Wirt closed his eyes, flailing his hand at hers a few times before successfully grasping it. He gave it a squeeze.

“Just as--you are--pretty as--” he tried. “Oh my god.”

“Do you think so?” she grinned, watching as Jacqueline la Corriveau stood shoulder to shoulder with her nun, holding hands.

“Where is my treasure,” the priest roared.

“Oh, that,” the smoke-creature sighed. “Are you prepared for the trade?”

“What,” Jacqueline frowned, raising her hand again.

“The trade, of course, I’m not a storage depot,” it sighed, and the breeze blew hot dry air enough to dry everyone’s eyes.

Jacqueline frowned behind her at Wirt, Phoebe, Greg, and Sara, drawing her nun forward, so the two of them were braced between the shadow-creature and the children. Phoebe flitted forward to land on the nun habit. “If we need to, I can distracted him again while you go for the cutlass.”

“We were not aware of a trade,” Jacqueline told him.

“And yet you are here, with my horse, and the cutlass on which I inscribed my sigil.” It sounded doubtful.

“...the Cheval Gauvin is yours?” she asked shakily, and Deckenbrode stepped in front of it.

“My shadows, in trade for precious matter of your world,” the smoke figure agreed. “I see it has not become any more of a conversationalist.”

“No, it has,” Jacqueline’s eyes shone. “It is only controlled, right now.”

“Take him back, and bring forth the treasure, I command you, spirit!” the orc-priest brandished his cross, and the shadow-creature focused on him without turning, growing to loom over his head.

“You command me,” it whispered, the strange echoes of its voice giggling and sobbing. “You, a--” the side facing Jacqueline leaned closer, separating from the rest. “What is it, actually?”

“A fallen priest,” breathed the nun. “A murderer, and a thief. Transformed to a goblin, for giving insult to Auntie Greenleaf.”

“Oh. She does tend to do that. Quite large,” the segment of shadow looming over Deckenbrode leaned closer, many of its echoes sounding pleased. “A fallen priest, you say. How interesting.”

“You can’t have Cheval Gauvin,” Jacqueline whispered, then took a deep breath. “You can’t. You can keep the treasure.”

“I demand you release the treasure!” Deckenbrode swung at the shadow, and passed through, and it wriggled.

“It would never do to inconvenience you, my sweet Jacqueline,” it giggled with a thousand voices. “I will take this befouled man of god in his place, he looks...delicious.” It whirled around Deckenbrode, who shrieked, before both vanished with the sound of a thunderclap. The Cheval Gauvin came out of its daze with a prance upon the cobbles, nearly sliding into the river as it shook itself thoroughly. Jacqueline ran to throw her arms around its neck, and it nuzzled her braids. Where Deckenbrode had stood were chests, and sacks, a pile of scrolls, and books with worked metal covers stacked high as Sara’s waist. Phoebe flitted over to investigate. “...there’s a bag of durian fruit here. I see why he gave it back. I say, your majesty--”

“Oh, don’t,” Jacqueline sighed.

Phoebe hopped around among the bags, and tugged at the buckle closing a book. “We were aided by Auntie Greenleaf, and aided you in turn. Could you speak to her? Offer her--something?”

“Certainly, I have no use for it,” Jacqueline hugged her horse friend tighter.

“The treasure.” It nosed at Jacqueline’s face, lipping at her hair. “I am...forfeit, then?”

“No,” she rested the flat of her hand against its nose, rubbing gently. “No, it--it took Deckenbrode.”

“...that was an option?”

“You knew there was treasure,” Henriette approached, frowning. “Why didn’t you--”

“I knew I had been traded,” it shook its head, snorting. “You overestimate the intelligence of a lopped-off pile of shadows. It took time for my queen to teach me speech.”

Henriette reached out to it, then patted Jacqueline’s shoulder instead. “You’d have been --absorbed?”

“The marvelous Cheval Gauvin would have been no more,” it hung its head. “Do not throw yourself off the bridge, however, for--”

“You are well,” Jacqueline stepped back, smiling. “You will remain well, for I do not believe you can take ill, and I doubt you’ll age.”

“Oh bells,” the nun sighed. “Neither of you two beauties will, but I certainly shall.”

The shadow-horse huffed, sidling restlessly, then butted her with its nose. “Of course I shall fetch you,” it said stiffly. “When you die. As I did my lady.”

“Oh!” Jacqueline and Henriette both started to cry, throwing their arms around its neck, and it flicked its tail.

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Look how self-satisfied it is.”

“Wirt, you were riding a horse,” Greg gasped. “We had to rub magic tiger juice on our feet and it didn’t even turn us into tigers--”

“And you met that orc, oh my god, I’m the worst brother ever--” he grabbed at his hair, yanked on the hand Sara was holding, looked at their clasped hands, and stalled out, eyes wide.

“I kept an eye on them,” Phoebe flitted over and bumped his cheek with her head.

“And I have not been introduced to all of you.” Jacqueline smiled, wiping her eyes, one arm around the Cheval Gauvin, one around Henriette the nun. “Are you four all right?”

“Don’t forget my frog. He’s named Sara,” Greg waved him overhead, and Sara punched his shoulder. “We are all fine!”

“I am Phoebe Snetsinger,” Phoebe poofed up again to twice her size, then fluttered her wings and tail, preening. “Thank you for your assistance.” She sidled along Wirt’s shoulder to see everyone.

“That one’s Wirt--” Henriette pointed.

“Hullo,” Wirt waved worriedly.

“I met him when your horse asked him to rob my church.”

The Cheval Gauvin snorted. “Just as well I did, Henry, or Deckenbrode would be here yelling at our pirate queen, and she’d be trying to tug him into the water--”

“He was so heavy,” Jacqueline sighed.

“Oh no,” Henriette sat down, abruptly, in the middle of the bridge. “He’s dead, or as good as, oh no!”

“Oh, she’s a nun now,” Cheval Gauvin leaned his head down, and Jacqueline sat next to her. “She feels bad about things like murder!”

“Not that, I mean, he was terrible, I wouldn’t have killed him, but--”

“I would,” muttered the horse. “I still think he publicised Jacqueline was hiding here, somehow. How did pirates keep finding her? Did he take out an advertisement? I’d certainly have killed him.”

“I tried my best, he weighed a ton, I couldn’t heft him over the edge--” Jacqueline told it, behind her hand. Phoebe chirped sympathetically.

“Not that--” Henriette rolled her eyes. “He was also blackmailing people--I’d almost gotten at his records, when he got thrown out of the church,” she sighed, waving her hand at the treasure pile. “Now there’s all this money, but I don’t know who to give it to, and they aren’t likely to tell me!”

“You were investigating him?!”

“Well, of course, I wasn’t called to love God, I was called to love you,” she bit her lips, then leaned up and kissed Jacqueline’s cheek. “He was hunting you! My mother did set me on course for the Church, but I...I waited by the window, hoping you’d ride by, ready for the evidence I had compiled. And then I hear you’re married-- ”

“Well,” Jacqueline ducked her head, clearing her throat. “That was actually…”

“He told her he was my queen’s second mate,” the horse’s face lowered into the conversation. “To share in the treasure, he needed only her name on a paper, he said.”

“Of course he comes to call and thinks I’m hiding it somewhere,” Jacqueline leaned her face in her hands. “He tore up my floor.”

“He threatened her with an axe,” the horse clacked its shoes against the cobbles, huffing. “And that priest kept lurking around--”

“You poor child,” Phoebe scuttled over to Jacqueline’s hand.

“We brought his records!” Sara clapped, and they all turned to stare at her, waving with one hand, the other rifling her bag. “I’m sorry, it sounds like you two have oh, just, so much to talk about! But--we do! Have it!” She held up the book they’d stolen from Auntie Greenleaf.

“How on earth,” Wirt blinked.

“We got sent to steal too,” Greg patted his leg. “We’re just a family of bandits.”

“So,” Wirt settled between Sara and Greg, blushing as Sara’s shoulder brushed his own.

Greg shivered. “I’m not cold,” he announced, but after Phoebe flitted up to the ear of the Cheval Gauvin, it huffed a snicker. Its hooves rang against the cobbles as it walked carefully over to them, and dropped its butt to sit just behind Greg, radiating heat like a hot coal. Wirt edged closer, and the horse leaned to nudge Sara after him.

“Thank you,” Wirt looked up, slowly reaching out to pat a mostly-substantial leg. “Uh, so,” he tried again, looking over at the ghost and the nun, who were leaning against each other. “Um, would--how did--we’re really confused.”

“Yeah, how did you lose your pirate treasure but your girlfriend knew where it was all along,” Greg’s lips firmed disapprovingly.

“I was never a pirate,” Jacqueline scoffed--the horse raised its head, and she narrowed her eyes at it. “I--I am, I admit, in a way...the Pirate Queen.”

Wirt opened his mouth, frowning, and met with a peck from Phoebe, and a swift elbow from Sara and Greg. “Hush, Wirt, she’s a queen.”

“I am hardly that, in reality,” Jacqueline sighed, and Henriette laid her hand over Jacqueline’s softly glowing one, as she continued. “This all started when I was born, at sea. My mother went into labour out of fear, they told me--there was a storm, at night, and she wasn’t used to the rock of the decks. And then the ship shuddered--we’d been boarded, and, we learned later--”

“I love this story,” said the demon horse. Its eyes flamed attentively, and Jacqueline reached up to rub its nose.

“We were boarded, as I say. The crew said the pirate captain walked across to us, stepping from chain to chain after the volleys of grappling hooks. Her coat flapped in the wind, her hair was shorn to her head like a prisoner--and that’s what she was, we were told, later. She began her career sinking a ship transporting slaves to the New World. They say she used her chains to tangle the former captain’s fine leather boots, and swung him so hard out to sea he skipped across the surface of the water for three whole days, until his clothes had been torn from his wrinkled white body, and the hot sun of the equator set him in flames.”

“What was her name?” Sara blinked eyes wide as Greg’s.

“She told my mother it was Jacqueline,” Jacqueline sighed, and used her torn sleeve to buff the edge of the cutlass. “As my mother laboured belowdecks, my cries drew the attention of the pirate captain--”

“Were they singing?” Greg asked.

“What? No,” she blinked, and the whole bridge went a little dimmer as her eyelids flicked over the flames in her sockets.

“They weren’t real pirates, then,” he put his hands on his hips. “I know a better pirate story--a cabin boy--”

“Greg, stop,” Wirt hissed out the side of his mouth.

“He drills the side of a ship and sinks it,” Greg glowered back.

“It’s a good idea,” Jacqueline sighed, leaning into her nun. “I almost wish your cabin boy had been there.”

“Oh, no!” cried the nun, clasping the damp, forest green glowing hand in her own. “I can’t wish that.”

“Sometimes, I have,” Jacqueline sighed, but squeezed her hand. “Their captain broke through the wall of my mother’s cabin with an axe, and her high heeled boots, and we were struck dumb with terror...until she bent to pinch my cheek, and I screamed with such force her large hat flew out of the porthole.”

“Oh, no, her hat,” Greg clasped his hands over his mouth.

“Then...she said she would let us go.”

“Whaaaat?” Greg and Sara gasped, Phoebe bounced in place, and the horse huffed.

“She said she had always wanted a child, except for the mess, and the noise, and the very long time it takes us to become reasonable.”

“That’s all so true,” Wirt nodded, and Greg frowned over.

“So she would not sever our screaming heads from our bodies, she said, provided--” here she laughed, leaning her head in her hand. Greg, Sara, Wirt, the Cheval Gauvin, and the nun leaned in, holding their collective breath. “--provided, she said, I became her daughter. I was to take her name, and captain her ship--”

“Holy moly,” Greg put in, and she nodded. Wirt and Sara, both observing the ghost and the nun’s interlocked fingers, glanced sidelong at each other, and then stared at the ground, cheeks flushed.

“Of course,” she sighed, “--my mother agreed. What was she to say, to the woman who cut off her own arm to commission one with knives for fingers and two muskets for bones? Who used a lead ball instead of a glass eye, so if she ran out of shot, she could pull one last deadly round from her face? She, who tied a string of fuse to her heel so her body could be set as a bomb to cover her ship’s retreat?”

“She sounds terrifying,” Wirt squeaked, grabbing at the shoulder of Sara’s coat, and she clasped his hand, swallowing.

“Oh, she was,” Jacqueline sighed. “Mother said the lace of her jacket was smoldering, and occasionally she’d glare down, and the flames would pause.”

“She kinda sounds like a pro wrestler,” said Phoebe, and Jacqueline’s flame-eyes shuttered again in a startled blink.

“I--I suppose. I pity her opponent, in that case.”

“Anyway,” the horse put in, blowing its lips.

“Anyway.” She nodded. “She obtained my mother’s family name, and town, and as she left, flung the smoldering coat at the head of our first mate. It flared into an inferno the moment it left her hands--”

“Was she a demon,” Sara frowned at the horse.

“--and my mother lived in fear of the day she would visit, and claim me for her own, unknowing whether it would be my fifth birthday, or my fifteenth, or a dying, bedside request--that I come, and be her pirate daughter, and do howsoever she willed.”

“I have a couple relatives like that,” Sara muttered, and Wirt glanced at her wide-eyed, then muffled a giggle. She turned red.

“Wirt’s girlfriend--” Greg put his hands on his waist, ignoring their sputters. “I want to hear about the Pirate Queen.”

“She died,” Jacqueline stared into the darkness behind them. “I understand she dueled a cannon.”

“A what,” Wirt blinked.

“Wow,” Greg breathed.

“We do meet the most interesting people,” Phoebe whispered to Sara, who covered a laugh.

“She had told everyone where to find me--” Jacqueline swallowed hard, and the nun gasped, pulling her into a hug. “--and they came looking.”

“That’s when she met me,” the Cheval Gauvin wriggled, marching its front hooves against the cobblestones of the bridge. Greg and Phoebe yelped, and it snorted.

“She bid her steed bring me her cutlass,” Jacqueline nodded. “How she rode a horse on a pirate ship I don’t know--”

“I am no common horse,” put in the horse. “She rode me along the chains, over to the ships they attacked, and bullets passed through me like smoke.”

“Also terrifying,” Wirt whispered, then swallowed as Sara squeezed his hand.

“While she fought, I kicked down doors, freeing prisoners and claiming treasure.”

“This treasure,” Jacqueline sniffed. “I received only the cutlass. I knew how to use it--my mother did that much, for her promise, she found me teachers, and made sure I could ride, fight, shoot, and do sums.”

“Oh!” Greg nodded. “For the treasure.”

She nodded back. “She was uncertain what a pirate queen would need. I had a great many singing lessons, of course, and chemistry, in case she made her explosives herself.”

“Talk about me again,” said the Cheval Gauvin, and she sighed.

“...she had told everyone I would inherit her empire. Her ship--”

“It sank,” the demon horse put in helpfully. “But we can steal a new one!”

“--her treasure, which she failed to include instructions for--”

“Mostly she freed slaves,” it flicked its ears.

“In the end, all I had were a cutlass, the Cheval Gauvin--” it edged away from its pile of children and pranced in a circle, “--and a whole lot of pirates who thought she’d somehow given me a massive pile of gold.”

“Oh no,” Sara breathed, as the horse carefully eased its way back between them.

“Indeed,” Jacqueline laughed, her smile as lit from within as her eye sockets, bright in her greeny-brown face. “They came in ones and twos at first, and sometimes they were polite. They tore my house apart, hurt my family--so I left that place, that none should be hurt for my sake, and came here. I was suspicious of everyone…”

“Understandably, my dear!” Phoebe cheeped.

“--and eventually, they found me again. I would see them following, and we would lead them to places where the bank of the river was weak, or out into the bogs, where a cart and four oxen can disappear from this world in the time it takes to draw breath to scream. Sometimes, I took up the cutlass, and fought them myself.”

“I want to learn the cutlass,” Greg announced.

“No, Greg,” Wirt said automatically, and Greg dropped to the ground with a long sigh.

“I met my love, when her mother saw me riding into town, and asked that I lure her from her novels--”

“I didn’t read so many novels,” the nun ducked her head, her cheeks already too dark to see a blush, but Jacqueline pretended to touch one and be burned.

“Oh, the heat!”

“Hush, you,” she hid her face in the rags of Jacqueline’s shoulder, not appearing to mind the sulphurous smell.

“I’m glad to see the pirates didn’t get your girl, at least,” Phoebe fluffed up, her tail twitching.

“They did not,” Henriette beamed up at Jacqueline. “And with your book--” she beamed at Sara, who was smiling vaguely at Jacqueline, “--we may pay back the people Deckenbrode has harmed, and make ready for the new priest. She should ride in in a few days--she was very concerned at my account of the people here.”

“We might rebuild my house,” Jacqueline sat her chin on her hands.

“But aren’t you a nun?” Greg frowned at Henriette. “Can you just--move out, like that?”

“I haven’t actually taken vows,” she shrugged. “But they can try and stop me.” She leaned into Jacqueline, who bent her head to kiss her cheek, then her mouth, then her forehead. Henriette giggled.

“Actually,” Phoebe fluttered to Wirt’s knee, the most central of leg options. “It’s about time for us to go.”

“But it’s dark,” Sara frowned around in the dim green light of the ghost lanterns.

“Yes,” said Phoebe, “But we’re nearly out of time.”

Wirt frowned at her, then blinked, and stood up, brushing himself off. Greg hopped amiably to his feet, and collected his frog--it had decided to stare at Jacqueline too, after she caught it a large fly with one swift wave of her hand, and held it out by the wings. Sara got up to shake hands with Henriette and Jacqueline, and accept a nuzzle from the Cheval Gauvin. His whuffed breath felt like she’d waved her hand under a broiler.

“Thank you,” Henriette told Wirt, and then Sara, and Greg, before drawing them all into a hug.

“From I also,” Jacqueline stepped close to Sara, narrowed her eyes, and then awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Thank you for obtaining the book. It will save Henry, and the people of this village, much heartache.”

Sara nodded, wide-eyed.

“Would you like to kiss my frog?” asked Greg, of Jacqueline, and Henriette dove between them, while Phoebe ji-ji-jeeted what sounded like cackling laughter.

“No! No kissing of frogs! I just got her back!”

“I do not...usually kiss frogs?” Jacqueline blinked as Henriette flexed her muscles at the frog. She was barely taller than Greg, when he had the kettle on his head.

“Well, he didn’t say he wanted to be a prince anyway,” Greg huffed off toward the end of the bridge.

The Cheval Gauvin nudged Wirt. “You were much more helpful than the other children I kidnapped. You may go home.” Wirt stared at it, tugging at Sara’s sleeve, and they backed away from Henriette, who was waving, with big tears running down her cheeks, and Jacqueline, who was hugging her, face buried in her hair. The Cheval Gauvin was nuzzling Henriette’s other side, and she hugged its face.

Phoebe flitted to Wirt’s head. “It isn’t actually that far,” she chirped, and Greg nodded, trundling along.

“I guess it’s just as well we came?” Sara glanced over at Wirt, grimacing. “I mean. They needed that book. People were being blackmailed.”

“I’m so glad you came,” Wirt beamed at her, stumbled, and turned the color of communion wine as she caught him around the waist.

“It’s dark, maybe we should, um,” she held out her hand, and he approached it with his own like her thumb had a mousetrap mechanism. When they finally connected, they both stumbled, and Phoebe hopped off to land on Greg.

“It’s okay, they’re just gross like that,” he told her.

Greg’s natural pace wasn’t hurtling, exactly, but they were making fairly good time when Phoebe’s feathers caught Sara’s attention. “Uh, Phoebe?” She held out her hand, and Phoebe fluttered to it. She was nearly weightless, the only reminder of her presence her tiny claws. “Um, are you--are you glowing?”

“It looks rather fetching, doesn’t it?” she preened, her quick motions leaving silvery afterimages as their eyes tried to adjust to the dark.

“It looks like some of you is floating away,” Greg squinted in, and she cocked her head.

“Well, yes, there is that. We should keep walking, before I’m gone.”

Wirt swallowed. “Are--are you the bluebird?”

“What a limited imagination that woman had!” Phoebe fluttered indignantly. “A kinglet, I told her. I grew up around kinglets, they make me think of home.”

“You’re dead?” Greg asked, catching up to proceedings, and she chirped.

“In life, I was an ornithologist. Phoebe Snetsinger. I was the first person to spot over 8,000 different bird species. When I found myself here, I--it was fascinating, being a bird. Even if wasn’t a kinglet.”

Sara kept walking, uncertain what else to do. “...I guess you really won’t perch on my head in class, or come to the window when I sing,” she laughed, sniffling.

Phoebe flitted to her shoulder, and fluffed, butting her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the entire truth, Sara. I thought it might--undo me, you know? I quite liked being a kinglet, and traveling with you.”

“Snetsinger’s a good name,” Greg whispered, wide-eyed.

“Wirt,” she flittered her tail. “Thank you for your help. I found your friends, and guided them, protected them, and gave them good counsel.”

“Thank you?” he swallowed.

“Yes, thank you, Phoebe,” Sara nodded, squeezing his hand tightly. Wirt smacked Greg in the kettle.

“Thank you, Phoebe. Say goodbye, Snetsinger.” Greg held up his frog, and said goodbye again, in a deeper voice.

“Greg, and Sara, the funeral song was very nice. You were very good with that bottle, Sara. And Greg, I’d be honored to be the momentary namesake for your frog.”

“Maybe I should name him all the good names together,” Greg cocked his head in thought.

“Well, I’m not quite gone,” Phoebe fluttered her wings, checking. “How about that song, Greg?”

“I’ll finish singing it, then,” Greg glowered up at Wirt, and his frog started singing in harmony.

“There was a ship that sailed

all on the Lowland Sea,

and the name of our ship

was the Golden Vanity

and we feared she would be taken

by the Spanish enemy

as she sailed in the Lowland,

Lowland, low

as she sailed in the Lowland sea.

Then up stepped our cabin boy

and boldly outspoke he

and he said to our captain

"what would you give to me

If I would swim alongside

of the Spanish enemy

and sink her in the Lowland,

Lowland, low

and sink her in the Lowland, sea

"Oh, I would give you silver

and I would give you gold,

And my own fairest daughter

your bonny bride shall be,

If you will swim alongside

of the Spanish enemy

and sink her in the Lowland,

Lowland low

And sink her in the Lowland sea.

The boy he made him read

And overboard sprang he

and he swam alongside

of the Spanish enemy

And with his brace and auger

in her side he bored holes three,

And he sunk her in the Lowland,

Lowland Low,

And he sunk her in the Lowland Sea.

Then quickly he swam back

to the cheering of the crew

But the captain would not heed him

for his promise he did rue,

and he scorned his poor entreatings

when loudly he did sue,

And he left him in the Lowland,

Lowland, Low

And he left him in the Lowland Sea.

Then quickly he swam ‘round

to the port side

And up to his messmates

full bitterly he cried,

"Oh, messmates, draw me up

for I'm drifting with the tide,

And I'm sinking in the Lowland,

Lowland, Low

I'm sinking in the lowland sea."

Then his messmates drew him up,

But on the deck he died,

And they stitched him in his hammock

Which was so fair and wide,

And they lowered him overboard

And he drifted with the tide,

And he sank in the Lowland,

Lowland, low

And he sank in the Lowland sea.”

“Thank you for that entertainingly horrible song,” were Phoebe’s last words, as the faint breeze blew away the last of her glow.

“They did try to sink pirates,” Greg rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Phoebe!” Sara yelled.

When they crested the hill, they could see the parking lot of the school just over the ridge. Wirt and Sara boosted Greg and his frog up, and then Wirt quailed at Sara’s approach, so she hoisted him around the waist, and pushed up on his shoe as he scrambled. When he flailed his arms down for her, she felt her cheeks heating. She set her shoulders and took his hand, scrambling up. In her backpack, the gollywhopper egg cracked.

The first bell of the day was ringing.

#Over the Garden Wall #greg & frog #wirt #platypan #platypan fic #platypan FINISHED FIC #they didn't want to be here but they're doing their best #talking horses are sketchy #Adelaide had a weird obsession with bluebirds #Stop stealing everything y'all #not everyone is a pirate GREG

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