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whelvenwings · 3 years

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Up to Date?

Length: ~5k Tags: Canon Divergent, Y yo a ti Cas timeline, Misunderstandings

It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.

Castiel

It was just awkward. Castiel couldn’t deny it. Things between himself and Dean were definitely awkward.

Three months back on Earth, safe from the Empty with a little help from the Winchesters and from Jack – but Castiel and Dean still hadn’t talked about it. The things that Castiel had said – and what Dean had said in return.

I love you. Me too, Cas.

Castiel knew he should have expected this, the awkwardness. Hadn’t he known Dean long enough, at this point, to be able to predict him? And there was nothing more predictable than Dean not wanting to talk about something.

Still, it hurt. There had been that shining moment of happiness, if a word as soft as happiness was even the right way to describe the feeling of absolute blazing corrosive joy that Castiel had felt when Dean had told him that his feelings were reciprocated. And now, there was just… silence.

It was awkward.

And Castiel didn’t know what to do. Was Dean waiting for him to say something? But Castiel had already said it all. It was Dean who’d only managed to choke out a few words, Dean who must have more to say. And yet he said nothing. Days were slipping past full of staring and loaded sentences and quietness.

The fact that it was all so familiar didn’t make it any better. Castiel wanted something different. It had been different before they’d said anything out loud, but – but there had been something about hearing Dean say those words, me too, Cas, that had changed everything.

He didn’t need much. Nothing grand or unusual, only something to ease the tension. Even if it was just an expression on Dean’s face that acknowledged what had passed between them, instead of pushing it away.

But Dean… Castiel knew it was different for him. There were things that Dean didn’t allow himself, for a tangle of reasons that Castiel only barely understood. Dean didn’t let himself touch. Dean didn’t let himself speak. Dean didn’t let himself look.

But Dean wanted to.

Castiel knew Dean wanted to. So many aching years that Dean had longed for him, and Castiel had been able to feel it like a prayer – and not some soft and murmured thing, a prayer of an older kind, something raw and wordless and desperate. Something on its knees. Castiel could feel the yearning in Dean. It would have been so simple for Castiel to offer touch, but Dean hadn’t ever really let him. And Dean still wasn’t letting him.

And Castiel could still feel the longing.

When they were together, and when they were several thousand miles apart, too. It was there. Never any quieter or gentler, not even from far away. It always touched the same place in Castiel’s grace that it had done from the start. And the feeling of it was just the same, too, like being doused in oil and dropped into flames that reached and hoped and hungered.

Beautiful fire. A beautiful prayer. Castiel wanted to answer it. Dean behaved as though he didn’t know it was there.

The tension in the bunker had become too much, last night, and Castiel had abruptly left with just a quick text to Dean.

> I’m going to look for the artifact Sam read about in Seoul. It shouldn’t be left unguarded.

The artifact was probably just a trinket, if Castiel was being honest with himself, and its significance paled in comparison to everything they’d been through, but it was a reason to get away from everything and give himself a break. It would have only taken Castiel moments to find the artifact if he’d wanted, but he drew it out. He walked rather than flying, pacing the streets of Seoul, following up on the leads that Sam had found. His grace hummed and sighed against Dean’s prayer.

He hoped that when he returned, something might be different. That he and Dean could talk. Maybe even – as he walked down a side-street with neon lights that glowed through the drizzling rain, Castiel allowed himself a wry little smile. Maybe even do something together. Go somewhere. Go on a date.

A date. To a human the word would probably sound little, and normal, and silly for an angel to be thinking about. But to Castiel, it just sounded like something new.

And it was so easy, somehow, to picture Dean coming into the bunker's kitchen, pointing at Castiel semi-aggressively, and saying, so. You, me, date. Up for it?

Would that be how Dean would phrase it? Castiel tried it a few different ways in his head. Down for it? How about it? You in? Each time, the Dean in Castiel's mind looked almost angry as he waited for an answer. Each time, Dean's face softened when Castiel said, yes.

So easy to imagine. So out of reach. Castiel walked on through Seoul, the rain starting to thrum down harder.

–––––

Dean

It was awkward.

Dean knew it was awkward, and he wasn’t thinking about it – he wasn’t. Except when Cas did stupid shit like ditching the bunker without warning, leaving just some handwritten note like a kid sneaking out of his tent at summer camp, it made it kind of harder to ignore.

Staring down at the note in the bunker’s library, Dean pressed his lips together and read it over again, his eyes scanning the words while his brain paid no attention to them, lost in thought.

There was something so ridiculous about it all. The moment between them, the – whatever it had been, when they’d admitted their crap to each other – it felt so overblown to look back on. Sure, Cas had had to summon the Empty, he’d had to get all deep just to save Dean’s hide. But Dean… what he’d said had just been stupid. No point to it. Dean cringed when he thought about it.

Me too, Cas.

The words were so little like something Dean would ever say that they might as well have been in a foreign language. Me too, Cas? That kind of thing didn’t have to be said. Because obviously, him too. But what were they supposed to do about it? Buy each other flowers? Feed each other chocolates? God forbid – hold hands?

Dean felt a little hot rush in his chest just thinking about it, and an accompanying stab of guilt. What were they, seventeen? They were old. Too old for flowers and chocolates. Too old for holding hands. And too old for this weird tension between them, Jesus. Who got nervous and tongue-tied and awkward around a crush at Dean’s age?

Who called it a crush at Dean’s age?

Dean, sat in the library at the bunker, dropped the note Cas had left and picked up his phone. Practicalities. Just focus on the practicalities. He should at least make sure Sam had kept Cas up to date with the latest research about the artifact that might be hidden in Seoul.

Dean tapped on the screen of his phone for a few seconds, holding it a little further away from his eyes than he used to have to do. He read over what he’d typed once, and then hit send.

–––––

Castiel

Castiel’s phone hummed.

With a little clench in his gut, Castiel stepped under the cover of a dark doorway to get out of the rain, and pulled it out of his pocket. Dean’s name was on the screen, obviously. There was the usual leap of excitement, tinged with a familiar sinking feeling in his chest. Dean would probably be angry with him for leaving.

With a stoic line to his jaw, Castiel opened the text, knowing it couldn’t be anything good.

> So. You up to date?

Castiel stared down at his phone.

No… no. He couldn’t have read that right. He blinked, and tried it again.

It still said the same thing.

You up to date?

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was… up to date? If he… wanted to date?

However many times Castiel reread the text, it said the same thing. Castiel stood absolutely still, his eyes puzzling out the letters of Dean’s message again and again.

It was – it was just the way Castiel had imagined it, if not word perfect. The brusque tone, the question. Castiel, half in shadow in a porch in rainy Seoul, stared down at his phone as if it had just promised him the moon.

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was up for dating.

Via text. Obviously. Maybe all this time, it had just been that trying to talk face-to-face had been too much. Maybe Castiel should have left for halfway across the world months ago.

Castiel could feel his heart pounding. He couldn’t stop himself reading Dean’s question, over and over again.

–––––

Dean

When the text from Cas finally came back, Dean snatched up his phone. It wasn’t that he’d been sitting and staring at it, waiting for a reply – he’d just got a little lost in thought, was all, wondering where Cas was and why he wasn’t answering sooner.

The text, though, when Dean read it, put a frown on his face.

> I’m so glad you asked. Yes, I would love to.

Wait. What? Dean checked over what he’d said himself in his first text, just to be sure he hadn’t made some kind of a typo. Nope, he’d definitely just asked if Cas was up to date with the artifact.

So, Cas would love to… what?

Cas was glad he’d asked about what?

None of it sounded like the answer to a simple question about research on an artifact, at all. Maybe Cas was just in the middle of something, and misread Dean’s text. Not something that had ever happened before, but still. Whatever.

Dean circled his thumbs over the keyboard on his screen, and then typed a reply.

< Love to do what

Keep it simple, he figured.

He sat puzzling over Cas’ first message as he waited for a reply. So glad you asked. What did that even mean? Was Cas ever particularly glad when Dean asked anything?

The reply came back quickly, this time.

> Anything you want to do. :) Maybe just going to a bar?

Dean squinted down at his phone.

Anything he wanted to do about what? A bar?

Was he losing it? Dean reread the text over and then over again, and looked back up their conversation to try to make Cas’ reply make sense. The emoticon was typical enough, even though Dean hadn’t seen a smiley one in a while. The way it made his chest squeeze was ridiculous. It was just a smile. And it just followed the words, anything you want to do.

Before he could let his mind run too far with what exactly that could mean, Dean texted back in confusion,

< You want to go to a bar?

There was something about this conversation that was making his heart beat harder. Come on, he told it. What, you can face down the end of the world more than once and a little text conversation still has you like this?

Ignoring his solid logic, Dean’s heart only raced faster when Cas texted back,

> Yes, of course. Unless you think it’s a bad idea?

So… Cas wanted to go to a bar? With Dean?

That was – well, it wasn’t that strange on Dean’s personal spectrum of strange to not strange these days. Fighting Death and God and God’s sister and all the rest of it kind of put a bunch of other strange crap way down the list. But this was still… weird. Not bad weird, necessarily.

But how had they got here, why were they talking about this? What kind of a bar, why? Dean had just wanted to check up on Cas in a few brief words and suddenly they were making evening plans? Cas was making no sense. Was he doing it on purpose? Dean read the whole conversation over again, and pulled a face of utter and annoyed confusion for the benefit of no one, and shook his head.

He thought about it, and licked his lips, and shook his head again.

And then thought some more, and made a hand gesture, as if asking of no one, what the fuck.

He texted out,

< What do u mean

He stared down at the text for a second, and then deleted it, and tried instead,

< Why are we talking about this

He didn’t even read that one over again before deleting it. He made another face, and then quickly typed and sent,

< But you’re in Seoul

However they’d arrived at the idea of going to a bar, it didn’t particularly matter when Castiel was thousands of miles away. Had deliberately ditched, in fact, which was more of an obstacle to them having a nice evening out tonight than the distance between them, but Dean wasn’t going to say that directly.

> Only for a short while longer. I’ve almost completed the search for the artifact. Then I’ll come back :)

Another damn smiley face, another little lift in Dean’s chest. Look at him. Fully grown, and soft over the idea of his best friend looking forward to spending an evening together. Yikes.

Practicalities. Dean fired off another text.

< Okay... you just wanna talk or what

If Cas was going to try to insist that they talk about stuff, well – the drinks would probably be a good place to start, but Dean would need to psych himself up to the idea of trying to explain anything at all that had happened between them. Me too, Cas. He kept hearing himself say it and wanting to bury his head in his hands. What had he been thinking. What had Cas been thinking, when he’d decided on Dean. That had to earn the award for the worst fucking choice in the history of the world.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his hands.

> I think talking is what people usually do on a date. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

–––––

Castiel

Across the world, in the porch in Seoul, Castiel watched as Dean’s little typing bubble with three dot dot dots appeared, and disappeared, and reappeared.

He tried to quiet the excitement in his chest, tried to remind himself that Dean had just implied fairly heavily that he wouldn’t want to talk on their date – which wasn’t unexpected for Dean, but it did leave Castiel wondering what else Dean might want to do.

A thought occurred to Castiel about something they might be able to do without talking, and he swallowed, and felt his hopes fly higher.

Or perhaps Dean just wanted to sit together in silence. That would be alright, too. Companionship in the quiet. When he thought about it, Castiel knew it would be more than enough just to sit by Dean in a bar and drink together, knowing that they were both choosing to be there. Even if they didn’t say a single word the whole evening, even if Dean didn’t so much as look at him the whole night. They could spend the date speechlessly. But it would be a date. It would be an acknowledgement. Maybe it would ease a little of the longing that Castiel felt and felt and felt from Dean, burning.

Finally, a text from Dean came in.

> Wait what

Wait, what?

Castiel felt his heart sink.

There was something wrong. That tone, just two stark words – something wasn’t right. Castiel scrolled back up their conversation. Had he accidentally said something rude? He couldn’t find it, reading the texts over and then over again. He’d used emoticons to show that he was happy. Had they seemed sarcastic?

Did it seem as though Castiel didn’t really want to go on a date? Or that he wouldn’t really be content for them to not talk on the date? Hurriedly, Castiel began typing again.

< I mean it. We don’t have to say anything. I just want to be there with you.

It was the kind of text that Castiel would ordinarily type out and then delete because it was too forthright, too emotional, too much for Dean – but this time, he just hit send before he could think about it. Worse than Dean being grossed out by Castiel openly having feelings was the idea of Dean not knowing that Castiel really did feel those things.

There was a long silence. Castiel stood still, waiting for Dean.

How many times had he stood, quiet, expectant, wanting Dean to be ready, hoping he would be ready, prepared to wait for an eternity until he was? In the span of Castiel’s own lifetime, he’d waited just a blink of an eye. But somehow this blink had been torturously slow. A torture Castiel would have fought to the death before trading.

Castiel’s phone hummed.

> You really want to go on a date

Castiel stared down at the screen. He couldn’t tell if the tone was judgemental or vulnerable. He blinked, and thought hard – and then, with a little shake of his head and hard press of his lips, he made a choice.

Quite suddenly, the street in Seoul was empty.

–––––

Dean

Dean almost fell out of his chair when Cas appeared opposite him in the bunker.

“Shit!” Dean swore, grabbing the table in front of him with one hand. He watched as Cas tilted his head just slightly sideways at Dean’s other hand, instinctively on the butt of his gun.

He eased his hold.

“Could’ve killed you,” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled wryly.

“You could have tried,” he said.

Dean swallowed. Right. Angel powers were all the way back up, these days.

“You’re back,” he said blankly, just to say something, because immediately leaving the room didn’t seem like it would be a good idea – however much the nervousness in his brain was insisting that this conversation wasn’t going to go well, and he needed to bail.

“Yes.” Cas lifted his phone up to face Dean, so that Dean could read their conversation on the screen. Dean glanced over it. It was strange seeing his own words on the left side of the screen, almost embarrassing. “What does this mean?” Cas asked.

Dean got to his feet, feeling too low down still in his chair.

“Uh…” He watched Cas warily, while trying to keep his tone light. “You tell me, Cas.”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “You asked me if I really wanted to go on a date.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Cas stared at him, clearly expecting more. Dean tried waiting him out for a few seconds in silence, hoping Cas would say something else, but Cas had that determined look in his eye that told Dean he was going to have to be the one to say something.

“What about it?” Dean said.

“What does the question mean?” Cas asked.

“Well, Cas, it’s kind of all right there. In the message.”

“You just asked if I really want to go on a date,” Cas said again.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So, do you?”

It was all wrong. His tone was all wrong. It was aggressive, and blunt. He sounded outright angry at the idea that Cas might actually want to go on a date, and that tone didn’t even vaguely map over the ridiculous leap in his chest at the idea of a date together.

But somehow, Cas’ shoulders were dropping, and his face was relaxing, as though – as though that was what he’d been expecting to hear. Or even what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Yes,” Cas said.

Dean felt his mouth fall slightly open and his eyes go wide, and he looked away.

He could feel his breath suddenly coming a little short. He tried to stand very still and be very quiet so that Cas wouldn’t see what that one-word answer had meant. How much it had shaken Dean.

It was only when he heard the yes that he realised just how little he’d expected to ever hear it.

Cas wanted to date. The hot rush in Dean’s chest was back, and the accompanying punch of guilt readied itself… but held back. Because Cas had said yes.

He’d said yes.

“Is that a surprise?” Cas said, his tone dry but not unkind. Dean swallowed, and managed a smile when he looked back over.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Oh.” Cas looked confused. “But… I told you…”

“I know.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d wanna do any of that crap, though. Human stuff.”

He saw something clear on Cas’ face, as though something that had been weighing on him had suddenly been lifted.

“Ah,” he said. “Well… I do. Want to.”

Dean nodded, once, a little sharply. God, he had no idea how to do this. And it didn’t help that he could feel things moving inside him, shifting, like walls crumbling, like stuff he’d smothered finally elbowing its way up to be felt – a blazing feeling, a hurting feeling, a wanting. Somehow both familiar and terrifying.

“Okay,” Dean managed aloud.

“As long as you still want to,” Cas said.

Still? Had Dean ever actually told Cas that he wanted to go on a date? Maybe he’d just been that obvious. Or maybe Cas had actually been able to guess what Dean wanted from the way Dean had said me too, Cas, even though Dean hadn’t been able to guess what Cas wanted in spite of literally being told I love you.

“Do you?” Cas asked, when Dean was silent for a second too long.

That wanting feeling, that hot tense ache that almost had Dean’s teeth gritting against it at this point, it was demanding a yes. It was saying go, go over there, what are you waiting for now? But Dean swallowed it. He couldn’t just have that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” he said. “I dunno. I mean. We are kinda old for it. Aren’t we?”

Dean watched Castiel consider it, his heart thudding.

“I’m fairly old,” Castiel said, “yes. But I think I’m still allowed to try new things.”

“New things,” Dean echoed.

“Yes.”

“Like… dating.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “If you want to.”

“And like…” Dean went to say something else, and then stipped himself. Too many things all rushing to the front at once. Too many possibilities. Too many things that he’d given up thinking he could ever have. Too many things he’d told himself it was right that he didn’t have, because it’d be embarrassing if he did.

But now, here was Castiel, standing in front of him and saying he wanted to go on a date. Watching Dean quietly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started to say.

“Like…” Dean said, and then stopped again, and shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m not… you know.”

“You don’t want to?” Castiel said, the question spoken so neutrally that Dean knew it came with effort – Castiel’s muscles had to be heaving with holding that door open for Dean to leave through, if he wanted. But Castiel was still holding the door. Still saying, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.

“No, I – yeah. I mean, I – yeah, I want to,” Dean said, saying the last part to the floor. His chest felt as though it was going to crack open. He wanted walk around the table between him and Cas, and drop to his knees, and just ask Cas with his eyes to touch him, anywhere, anyhow, gentle or not. “Just… I mean, look at us. Are we really gonna fit with any of that crap?”

He couldn’t imagine them trying to do the usual sweet romantic stuff. Dates and gifts and cards and flowers. So stupid after everything they’d been through, like sticking heart-shaped bows on the muzzles of two rusting guns.

“What kind of crap?” Castiel asked.

“You know. The whole schtick. Lovey-dovey crap.” Dean mumbled it, aware that even in describing it he sounded ridiculous. Lovey-dovey? Christ.

“I thought we could just try things out,” Castiel said. “And see if we can do them our way.”

“But what if it doesn’t work,” Dean said, making an attempt not to sound too wretched. He watched Castiel, waiting for him to give up, to say this was already too much work, that it wasn’t worth it, and they should just carry on going as they had been.

“Then we try something else,” Castiel said.

“Right,” Dean said, with an almost-laugh. “And we just do that over and over, huh.”

“If you’d like.”

“You’d seriously be okay with just keeping on trying forever?” He said it as if it were a joke.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Of course.”

Dean went quiet. The expanse of the table between them was far, much too far. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Cas saying that he’d keep trying forever was absurd. What was even more absurd was that Dean actually believed him. Cas had that look on his face, the one that allowed no argument, not angry or proud, just – sure. Certain.

If nothing they did together felt right, Cas would stick by him and keep trying new things. Forever.

Dean felt a part of himself breathe out, and with it went the last of the wall. Now Dean was immolating, standing still in the library of the bunker, just burning and burning with wanting to be touched by Cas, and –

As Dean watched, Cas’ jaw was tightening, as though he too were holding himself back against what he needed.

They stared at each other over the table. You first, Dean begged him silently. Please, just come here, just come here.

Cas’ blue eyes were locked with his, trying to say something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Cas,” Dean said, into the silence.

Cas watched him, waiting.

Dean’s mind was a blank. He didn’t know how to take this feeling, this all-encompassing burning wanting yearning feeling, and turn it into words. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted without accidentally putting it out of his own reach in the asking. He didn’t know how to want in the way that received, only in the way that was hopeless.

And Cas only looked at him and waited.

Dean opened his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he said. Cas’ expression flickered, but he didn’t move. “I – you – Cas, Jesus, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Dean said quickly, immediately.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Dean swallowed. “No.”

Now Cas looked confused.

“Do you want me to…” Cas paused, puzzling it out. Dean watched him thinking, if I shouldn’t go, and I shouldn’t stay, then…?

“Cas,” Dean said, “come here.”

Cas blinked, and Dean watched the slope of his shoulders change, watched the way Cas’ eyes lightened with a sudden hope. He watched Cas take a step around the table, and then another, slowly, as though afraid to scare Dean off.

Dean couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. His hands were too big. He’d just asked Cas to come to him, and Cas was coming to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Dean moved, quickly, decisively, making for Cas as Cas came towards him, needing to be close and needing it now, and then – and then they were in front of each other in the bunker library, they were right in front of each other, standing with their hands by their sides and looking at each other. And all Dean could think as he looked at Cas was,

This is so heavy, it’s too much, it means too much.

And all Dean’s furiously thudding heart wanted was touch, anyway, no matter what it meant.

Cas reached up a hand, and gently – so gently – put it against Dean’s cheek.

Dean held his head up for a long moment, trying to keep himself together, keep it all in, be still, be silent. He gritted his teeth against the feeling in his chest, against the blazing of his happiness –

And then, he let go.

He closed his eyes, and breathed out. And leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” he heard Cas say.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I love you,” Cas said again, more determinedly, and Dean felt Cas’ forehead press to his own.

The touch of him was better than absolution. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Dean could feel the love of it running through him, easing the rusted gritty parts of him that had thought all this beyond him, and he wanted to gasp through the feeling of it like he was swimming through cold water. If he’d tried ten minutes ago to imagine Cas saying I love you to him again, Dean would have imagined it so sweet and unlike them. But this, this was happening. Cas’ forehead against Dean’s. Cas’ voice saying those words, I love you. And it felt real.

It felt like him, Dean, and it felt like Cas. This was who they were. This was how they loved each other.

“Me too,” Dean said. “Me too, Cas.”

He leaned forwards, and kissed Cas.

They didn’t go to the bar, in the end. They found they had enough to do without going out.

–––––

Dean

The next morning, in the kitchen, Dean turned to Cas and said casually,

“By the way, you never actually said. Are you up to date with the new research on the artifact? We should probably still try to find the damn thing.”

“Am I up to…”

Dean watched as Cas’ expression changed. It went from slight confusion, to sudden horror – and finally settled on a kind of dry acceptance.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas came to stand by Dean, and because he could, Dean leaned forwards and kissed him again. His heart raced as he did it. Cas kissed him back, and Dean felt as though gravity probably shouldn’t be holding him down at this point.

“I, um,” Cas said. “When you texted me yesterday… I thought when you asked me that, you were asking me on a date.”

Dean’s brain took a second to catch up – and then he pressed his lips together to hold in a laugh. Cas tilted his head to one side.

“Don’t,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t,” Dean said.

“Dean…”

“I’ll never mention it again.”

“I thought…” Cas closed his eyes, his head dropping as he smiled again at his own misunderstanding, and Dean let himself laugh. He reached out and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, still a little tentative, still feeling his heart sing with the ability to touch. Cas leaned in, their bodies swaying together slightly.

“I love you,” Dean said, the words flowing up out of him like water from a spring, so easily, so naturally. He felt the immediate seize of panic afterwards, hearing those three words said in his own voice, out of his own mouth – but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw Cas’ head lean back again, his blue eyes glowing with happiness.

“I love you,” Cas answered him. “I love you.”

#whelvenwingsfic #spn #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #it's also up on ao3 if anyone prefers! I'll reblog with a link ayo

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bittersweet--chaos · 2 years

Note

part 3

i can do another part with corvus meeting them, or even eve and clyde working their vamp abilities after they were turned

but yeah here’s clyde- good luck:

back with clyde, nothing too interesting happened over the next few years. he worked until his paycheck, saved some of it then wasted the rest on dates and hang outs and drinks.

now he’d love to say that he stayed in contact with eve, love to say he stayed in contact with his siblings, love to say he still talks with his parents- but just like his siblings before him, he left without a word.

clyde moved to a small outskirt town from dahlia and worked at a bar instead of the old diner. he got a girlfriend who worked for some government agency he didn’t know of, but he loved her nonetheless.

skip to 1945, where work is booming at the bar, the water was just won, things are looking great; isn’t this the best time for clyde to propose to his girlfriend?

well… yes and no. to clyde, it was perfect, he got the ring- right to the specifications that irene (gf) asked for earlier in their relationship- he even had a wedding plan ready to be edited and assisted with.

when the time came, he walked home, a skip in his step as he goes to bring his girlfriend to their first dating spot. birds were singing, the sky was fresh, a slight smell of flowers filled the air- it was truly a perfect day.

opening the door- “dove?”

silence

walking into the kitchen, it’s eerily silent. irene hated the silence, always needed something to be on in the background- even if it was the sound of the fan, or a window propped open to hear the birds and children in the neighborhood… but nothing.

“hey honey?” clyde calls out again, the only answer is the gut wrenching fear that twists his stomach.

continuing into the house, nothing seems out of place… no pictures missing, no mess on the floor, just like how he left it this morning.

clyde moves to the living room- empty. he then goes to the hall bathroom but there’s no one there. going to the bedroom, a fear he’s never felt settles in his stomach- a touch of the doorknob has him gagging, he knows something is wrong.

a slight turn to the knob, another pang in his stomach, a deep breath in, and the door opens.

blood was all he saw. it was everywhere- the walls, the floor, the fan and ceiling. and the bed.

it was almost like the sheets were supposed to be red. the pillows are thrown around- nothing was left untouched in this room.

and his lover, smack dab in the middle of the bed, a huge gash in her stomach, her neck torn apart, and her hair- her poor hair…

clyde’s brain begged to look away- to stop this nightmare. but his body wouldn’t listen.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this… this… it was a perfect day… right…?

preparations for the funeral went by fast with the help of his and irene’s parents. irene’s mom- her dad passed away during the depression- decided to stay with clyde for the time being seeing as though she lived only a few minutes walk away.

she practically babied clyde, it makes sense, she just lost her child but… clyde hated the feeling. he didn’t want to have dinner ready when he got home, he didn’t want the laundry done or the house cleaned up for him… he just wanted to be alone.

the only thing that gave him the strength to continue was this bird that continued to stay near the house. he noticed it a few days after the funeral, it stopped for a minute, before being shooed away by irene’s mom.

the second time it showed up, it brought a small pin with ‘DUMP’ stamped on it, before flying away.

the meetings were few with a lot of time in between, but it was always something clyde looked forward to. the crow would bring some small trinket, clyde would get it a small piece of food, and they’d separate.

on a rainy night, clyde sat at home alone- finally.

irene’s mom had decided to head home- while clyde said her help was amazing, and that he was thankful, she knew that he wanted to be alone… she was scared, sure- clyde was family not just to irene but to her too. but she knew he was an adult, and could trust he would be okay.

another check at the locks, and clyde was down on the couch, ready to sleep. he couldn’t sleep in his room… and even with the different environment, the nightmares persisted.

the dreams of her calling for help, begging for mercy… the fact that he just “had to go to work” that day even if he had his hours for the week.

after another few hours with sleep not in sight, clyde gets up. he looks outside, and no rain is in sight in the sky.

‘late night walk it is.’

with a check for keys, knife, hat- good to go. locking the house, clyde sighs at the sight of the doorknob. it’s one of longing, god does he wish that this doorknob gave him the happiness it used to- it used to signal being home, with irene, able to relax after a long day. now it just means he’s left alone with his thoughts and dreams.

the night is cold, it did just finish raining, the puddles made that clear. a car passes once in a while, but the only sound is the crickets and soft music from passing houses.

about a half an hour later, clyde decides to walk back home, try to get some sleep again.

a hand grabs his wrist, pulling him into an alley. he tries to grab the knife, but is pulled back- both wrists over his head.

a scream gets cut off by the attackers free hand.

“oh i love it when they’re scared,” he moans, before a pain engulfs clyde’s neck.

he should be scared- he should be begging for help… but… he isn’t. he’s actually pretty relaxed. of course he was tense, he wanted to call for help but when his voice gets taken away? he’s okay with this.

maybe now he can see irene? oh how lovely she’d look in all white… just… like how it was supposed to be…

clyde opens his eyes slowly, watching as the ceiling somehow moves with his irises. the sound of the fan was… too much, every gust of wind felt like it was hitting his brain directly.

he hears footsteps, but he doesn’t care- if this person didn’t kill him before, he was bound to be dead soon.

but when the door opens, a familiar voice calls out.

“clyde..? you up..?”

his eyes widen, “…eve..?”

SHIT I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR A MURDER

I wanna cry but I’m far to invested

#leto_talks #ghost 👻

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marshieee · 3 years

Text

Yes boss!

Headcanon

Normal day for them to flirt to their superior

A/N: ah it’s been awhile, i just noticed that my story about you being yamaguchi’s twin is still in my drafts hahahahaha.

Oikawa tooru

He didn’t expect that their temporary coach was someone HOT not that he doesn’t see any attractive people who coaches volleyball it’s just that it was shocking he expected someone who’s a bit old around their 50’s kindof guy, but you look like you both are in the same age

It’s been awhile since he met someone who was his type, unfortunately you’re his coach.

Let’s just say your filling in the spot of your uncle after he accidentally injured himself and have to rest for 6 months.

Good thing you’ve got alot of experience of coaching from little kids to college students.

BUT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT THE NATIONAL TEAM HERE

Pressure was already tough, stress was literally your second self now unfortunately it became worse.

“Oh good morning coach you look lovely today, you’re putting some models to shame”

“Save your sugary words for the ladies outside oikawa, ok guys warm up!”

One of your players who’s name was Oikawa tooru likes to flirt with you.

Whenever he has the chance he’ll take it and throws a cheesy pick up lines or lame puns.

“Ah it’s so good to have a sunshine who can light up my world thank you coach”

“Thank the sun Oikawa not me”

“But you are my sun”

“No I’m your COACH”

Honestly you’re not interested to get into relationship as this was one of your biggest gig, you can’t just blatantly flirt with your player.

I repeat YOUR PLAYER

But you can’t hide the fact that he is kinda cute when he’s trying to get your attention.

“What’s this?”

“My love~”

“.....”

“Ok ok can you do my bandage?”

“Why don’t you ask—“

“Look their busy doing the others bandages”

“Then wait”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how?”

“Of course i know how idiot”

“Great then! It’s all yours”

He’ll just look at you with soft eyes as you were doing his bandages with a serious look.

You just look so cute

When you’re already done doing his bandages he’ll take your hands and place a soft kiss, which boi caught you off guard.

“Thanks coach, let’s do our best today again”

Maybe liking him won’t hurt right?

Kuroo tetsurou

Your schedule was a normal schedule for a working adult

Wake up, go to work, finish your task then go home.

It’s a cycle that you’re used to. Not until you got a new employee.

He was a hard working guy, never really bothered you and doing all of his work done and on time.

Not until he marked you as HIS.

“Hey boss~ got you some coffee”

“Oh, thanks....is this?”

“I made it my self it’s my own blend”

“Really?”

“Yeah really, it’s nothing special really just a little bit of love potion that i got in the corner of the streets”

You would immediately spit it out, though it was so good

“ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT IF THAT WASN’T A ‘POTION’ WHA—“

“I’m joking I’m joking I’m sorry I didn’t mean it,but I’m serious about it being my own blend”

He would be so sly about flirting with you that you can’t do anything about it.

“What?”

“Whoah easy now tiger I’m just here to tell you that hinata shoyo agreed”

“REALLY?”

“Yeah can i have a kiss now? I think i deserve an reward”

“Your ‘reward’ will be in your paycheck kuroo”

He seemed to be one of your best employees and it would be a shame if you put him in another division.

It’s not like you hate his flirting tho, but you just wanted to be professional that’s all.

“So it’s bring your kids to work day and since i don’t have kid i brought our children instead!”

“Our?”

“Yes our”

You’re so used to this you didn’t even bother to argue with him, he would just dodge it and get back to you 2x

“Tadaaa~”

He would show you a basket with a persian cat and a saimes cat sleeping.

“OMYGOSH THEY’RE ADORABLE”

“You’re adorable”

“I didn’t know you were a cat person kuroo, you don’t seem like it”

“Really? Um boss question”

“Yeah?”

“Do i really don’t look like a cat person?”

“No”

“But I’m pretty obvious that i like you right?”

“Wha-?!”

He just straight up confessed his sin to you in the OFFICE, your co workers who heard all of it started to “oooohhh”

“How bold kuroo-san”

“Just straight up confessing hahahaha”

You cheeks will immediately burn from his sudden confession. Grabbing the basket you turn around.

“Yes, yes it is kuroo and what about it?”

“Nothing just making sure that you know you’re loved”

That’s where you immediately started to combust, you can’t face him with a very red face.

It would be embarrassing. Head down you gave him the basket back.

“I swear to God kuroo if you continued doing this a little more push and i might fall inlove with you”

You whispered to yourself, which you thought only you can hear it.

“What’s stopping you then?”

You really can’t take it anymore and stomped all the way to your office.

“YOU AND YOUR SUPER HEARING IS SUPER ANNOYING”

“I DONT THINK YOU HATE IT THO~”

You’re falling for your employee named kuroo and you can’t help it.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Well you were appointed to a new department

It was all good, you got good workers who actually do their jobs and a cute employee who basically lowkey flirts with you.

It wasn’t the first time someone is flirting with you at work but it was the first time where it wasn’t very...

Forceful, and it was super sweet.

Yamaguchi cannot straight up flirt with you like kuroo because you’re his boss. He respects that.

So he would do it in a subliminal way. Like he would volunteer to buy you coffee and when he gets back it’s not just your coffee but it was with a tiny little trinkets.

Like cute stickers, a candy, a flower, a note saying “let’s do our best today” “have a smile sunshine” “you can do this boss!”

To be honest you’ll just find yourself having a shit tons of butterflies in your stomach early in the morning.

He would also bake something for you, but also gets all embarrassed and started to bake for the whole team.

Like he would bake some cookies and give it to your department just 3 cookies per pack but when he gives one to you he will give you a dozen and with a cute little heart on the ribbon.

Or when he would give you his papers he would sneak a little motivation note for you, or a poem he made himself.

You never really got the chance to tease him back as he immediately shys away from you.

Well heavens wants you now.

It was a rainy night, your dumbass forgot to check the weather today so you didn’t have any umbrella with you.

Your friend already went to her date, so you got no choice but to wait until it stops.

“Boss?”

“Oh yamaguchi good work today”

“Ah y-you too, I’m sorry but what are you doing out here?”

“Well i forgot to check the weather today so I don’t have an umbrella with me”

“Um if you don’t mind you can share with me”

You would just look at his face, which reminded you of a strawberry which is fucking cute btw

“Sure why not”

As you two were walking towards the station he would be so stiff that you immediately noticed when you went besides him.

His shoulder was wet as he was trying to cover you from the rain.

“Hey yamaguchi scoot closer you’re getting wet”

“A-ah y-y-yes”

You would pull him closer only for him to get even redder.

As you two arrived at your stop which was the train station. You’ll instantly shot him a smile, the smile he really loves.

“Thanks yamaguchi i owe you one”

“It’s nothing boss”

“Oh you know what i can pay up right now”

“P-pay up? But the pay day is—“

You cut him off as you kissed his cheeks. It took awhile before it sink in yamaguchi’s mind that you’re kissing him rn

“There i don’t owe you one now we’re quits, see you tomorrow”

You would wink and left the blushing boy.

Flirting back might change some things a little.

Sugawara Koushi

You never thought you’d be a principal at a elementary school.

It’s not like you hate it though, you’ve been always so fond of kids. Your kids at school are so very sweet and respectful as they always greet you whenever you’re around.

You got the nickname “pretty sensei” to the younger kids as you often play with them whenever you got time. Though you weren’t a teacher there but you don’t mind them calling you sensei

A new teacher was assigned at your favorite class, which you weren’t aware since you’ve been too busy with some other stuffs.

As you visit your favorite class per usual you met the new teacher which was sugawara koushi.

“Sensei sensei! This is our pretty sensei!”

“They always plays with us”

“And they’re very nice too!”

Sugawara was aware that you were the principal and you told him it’s fine that the kids calls you sensei. It’s cute

Sugawara know that their principal was good looking but that won’t give any justice to what he was seeing right now.

You look so pretty and gentle as the kids surrounds you, laughing and running with them.

He can watch this forever.

Later that day when you already left sugawara confessed to his kids.

“I like pretty sensei but I’m too shy can you guys help me get pretty sensei’s heart?”

Well a few of them cried as they misunderstood the “get pretty sensei’s heart” but that was fixed.

The kids helped their sensei courting you. Like handing you flowers or heart shaped paper with “pretty sensei x suga sensei”

There are also times where the kids wanted to play house and asked you to be the parents.

“Looks like we have a big family huh?”

“Yeah hahahaha”

This always happens that you’re already used to it. How sugawara calls you honey just to tease you or how you would help sugawara put the kids to bed.

The girls decided that they want to play wedding and wanted to be the flower girls and bridesmaids.

“Really?”

“Yep, you and suga sensei will get married”

You blushed when she said that. Ok maybe you do have a little crush on the teacher so what?

“M-marry?”

“That’s a great idea! Pretty sensei you don’t mind do you?”

Sugawara pops up besides you agreeing with the wedding game.

“Huh? Y-yeah sure it’s just a game so why not”

The game already started and the girls have their own pretty little flower crowns as they just throw some colored papers.

One of the kids decided to be the priest tho he didn’t know what to do and just asked.

“Suga sensei do you accept pretty sensei?”

Sugawara would hold your hand and just looked at you with a soft expression.

“I do”

“Pretty sensei do you accept suga sensei?”

It’s just a game why am i blushing?!

“I do”

“Um suga sensei do you like pretty sensei”

You don’t know why but your heart skipped a beat as you anticipated his answer, you don’t know why you’re so curious but...

Sugawara just laughed and smiled.

“Yes i do like pretty sensei”

The girls immediately squealed and asked “really??”

Still looking at you sugawara squeezes your hand.

“Yes really”

“Then you may kiss pretty sensei”

“K-kiss?”

“Hahaha it’s fine don’t worry”

Sugawara gave you a soft kiss on your forehead which made you redder than anything.

“Pretty sensei is red!!”

“Sensei are you sick?! Are you ok?!”

“I-i’m fine”

“Suga sensei! Pretty sensei is sick!!”

“Don’t worry pretty sensei is fine”

After school sugawara immediately would apologize about what happened.

“Please don’t stop visiting the kids”

“Why do you think i would?”

“Because of what happened?”

You would just laughed at him.

“Of course i won’t and besides...”

“???”

You raised your hand with a flower ring that was made by the children.

“We’re a big family aren’t we?”

Now it was sugawara’s turn to be red

#haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smau #fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#oikawa #sugawara #kuroo #yamaguchi #haikyuu hc #headcanon #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu timeskip

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justingrxnt · 2 years

Note

I want the K~~~~

(I have been saving this for a rainy day & today it is POURING)

Justin + Mae #4 - forehead kiss

Justin was tired, the type of ache that sunk deep within his muscles and into his bones, where his joints were creaking with every step, skin pulled too tight over the remnants of his body. Normally Ranger Missions were fun, enjoyable rushes of adrenaline with his friends.

Normal Missions didn’t result in a dead Ranger but today it did, and instead of staying back with the squad, drinking in their memory he wanted just one thing - no. Justin needed one thing. To be home. So with a round of hugs and a gentle touch along the forehead of the fallen Justin took a series of portkeys home, their allies among the governments greasing the wheels of jurisdiction to drop him off in Diagon Alley.

Exiting the Leaky Caldron the sun beat down on him, a stark contrast to the humid jungle he’d just left, instead of the howling monkeys and the squawks of birds he was faced with children and laughing adults. The press of their arms against him, their bodies brushing against his - wrongwrongwrong. It pounded into his head with every instant of skin on his, too many human voices ringing in his ears, the shrill sound of industrialization clanging around him.

He surged through the crowd, keeping his elbows in and teeth ground down. He couldn’t very well push children and women from his path, so like the bull Justin plowed through, shoulders in a tight thick line, veins on his neck standing as every cobblestone threatened to trip him.

He passed the emporium, one of the many attendants waving at him for the doorway, beckoning him. They knew he left the country often, were used to him stomping in with his rucksack and trinkets, most of them excited to have been brought a gift or even a story from his adventures beyond this freezing rock Justin created a life upon. But the Slytherin’s eyes smoothed over their form, not noticing how nervous they looked, nor the way they flinched from his dark eyes.

The entry to Knockturn Alley was the same it’d always been, two Aurors posted up for an extended ‘lunch’, not even pretending they were guarding the entry. Roland Sidewinder was grinning at him, an insipid constipated look.

“Animal Boy,” Dios he needed to break this boys teeth one of these days, “password?”

“Fuck you.”

Roland laughed, swinging his wand a bit, a short thing likely similar to his cock if Justin took a chance at guessing, “Well that’s not very nice, besides I don’t fuck men--”

“Not that we’d give you the time of day,” Justin hissed, shouldering forward until their chests were a hairsbreadth away, “why don’t you back up then or I’ll take you down a fucking peg or two.” His veins were popping up along his forearms, knuckles whitening under the pressure of his strength,

“Threatening an Auror, an officer of the law - tsk tsk tsk Grant, I thought you were smarter than that. But hey, I’ll let it slide if you land me a date with your pretty bestie,” Roland leaned into him, the fabrics of their shirts touching, his breath minty fresh and burning Justin’s eyes, “but maybe it’ll end up being more than a date. I’ve heard Knockturn Alley girls are easy, I bet most of your shitty friends have had her but damn if she wouldn’ be a good fuck--”

Roland’s voice cut off with a strange and Justin slammed him into the wall, his black peacoat, dropping his rucksack to the ground.

“If you think I would let your tiny prink within spitting range of my girl then you’ve another thing coming you cretin,” Justin, tugged him closer, their chests colliding while the Auror Captain took on a sheen of panic. His hands scrambling for Justin’s wrist, though they were the same height Justin loomed.

“This is assault fucker--”

“Roland if one more word comes out of your mouth I’m going to spread your teeth all over this goddamn--”

“Justin?”

Both men turned, their cheeks smashing together and they hopped away from each other as if it burned. Maeko was standing there, hair a glorious mess of curls with a grocery bag hanging from the tips of her fingers. Roland straightened out his jacket, messing with his already artfully charmed hair - the prick. While Justin’s chest was heaving, blood boiling over, the flush on his cheeks reaching down his neck and arms covering him in splotching anger.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home for a few days?” her eyes slid over Roland, studying Justin’s tense figure, his breathing coming out in sharp pants.

“I needed to come home.” he strode forward, knocking into Roland with his shoulder, Maeko stood like the mirage of an oasis and Justin wrapped her up tight. He needed to make sure she was real.

Pulling her face into his chest, cradling the back of her neck with his hands just a few hours ago slicked with blood and morning Amazon dew. Burying his nose into Maeko’s curls he took a long deep breath, inhaling her comforting scent. He could hear Roland huffing then wandering away, until it was just them, alone at the entry to Knockturn Alley, it’s perpetual shadows casting a blanket of protection around their tangled forms.

“You okay?” her nails scratched along the thin cotton of his polo, circling beneath his shoulder blade, skimming the length of his ribs.

“I’m home.” he managed to get out, feeling suddenly childish for how his throat crackled with unshed tears.

Maeko pulled back, fingers reaching up to muss his sweaty curls, “Did you get sick or something?” Justin shook his head, tilting it forward to receive more of her ministrations, refocusing on the pale planes of her cheeks and the arch of her brow, sucking in her willow limbs and hips. Dragging his hands from the curve of her neck and jaw they settled around her hips, tucking his thumbs into the curve of her belly.

Maeko smiled up at him, then leaned forward and pressed a butterfly soft kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering, her hot breath scented with coffee and croissants. Pulling away she tugged on his waistband, “Lets get you home yeah?”

Justin nodded, collecting his fallen rucksack, allowing her to lead them further into Knockturn Alley. But with Maeko’s brusque accent, their hands linked, and the warm patch on his forehead from her lips he knew he was home right now. He didn’t need to go anywhere else, as long as Mae was there he could find comfort anywhere.

#for Bee #a gift #k meme #with Maeko

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maybankiara · 3 years

Photo

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: Kie meets her housemates. For the better part of the day, it’s a warm welcome (even from one housemate’s girlfriend who lives downstairs), until JJ Maybank rolls around. Snappy and unwelcoming (and somehow never wearing enough clothes), he’s only the beginning of troubles for Kie.

word count: 8k

my foolish heart masterlist

read on ao3

Moving to Kildare is a decision Kie makes in about fifteen minutes, on a rainy Thursday. After spending four years getting her degree and a year travelling the world, returning home is nearly unfathomable. It’s a month of endless arguing, of never seeing eye to eye, and her parents’ inability to understand that she isn’t their “little Kie” anymore.

She’s had enough, so Kildare it is.

Moving to a place she’s only heard of once or twice in passing is better than living with parents who don’t give a damn about what she wants.

She packs up her belongings, counts her savings, and sets out for the town on the West Coast. No plane ticket – the prospect of a four-day bus trip is daunting, but she’s put herself through worse. The important thing is that there is nothing worthy she’s left behind.

Kie lets herself change her mind until she reaches the bus station at Chapel Hill. When she boards the bus and sits down next to an elderly man that she’ll be sitting next to for hours until the next transfer, she scours Craigslist for housemates.

If she’s moving to Kildare, she’s moving to Kildare.

The adventure doesn’t end until she lets it.

She finds a decent-looking apartment with four housemates urgently looking for a fifth. It’s cheap, too – she’s applying to jobs as the day turns into night, but there’s no guarantee of getting it. Her savings won’t last her a lifetime; she needs to get her life kickstarted.

By the time she steps foot in Kildare, it’s Monday morning, and she has a place to live.

John B. Routledge is the first housemate she meets. He’s the one who posted the ad and he’s the one who answers her calls (throughout the following days, video calls, too). He’s also the one who picks her up from the bus station.

Kie thinks about this situation as she makes her way off the bus, waiting for the driver to open the cargo so she can get her two suitcases. She is essentially agreeing to go live with four boys (granted, they’re all also in early twenties), across the country, because one of them seemed like he’s not going to kill her.

The driver takes out her suitcases and she goes to fetch them, adding a quiet ‘Thank you, have a good day.’

She walks off the bus stop and into the station, glancing around for a tall boy with floppy brown hair and a kind face. Possibly with a red bandanna wrapped around his neck. The boy is a little eccentric—and possibly overenthusiastic—but he seems kind, and he’s willing to give her a hand.

Kie doesn’t forget kindness easily.

John B ends up waiting for her at the entrance into the station, hands relaxing in the pockets of his jean shorts. His face stretches into a grin as soon as he lays his eyes on her.

‘Hey, Kiara!’

She returns the smile. ‘Hey.’

He approaches her, wearing the bandanna just like she thought. He paired it off with a half-buttoned shirt that’s almost see through – it’s the look she’d see him wearing to the beach, not to pick up his new housemate.

(Don’t judge before you meet, she reminds herself.)

John B goes in for a hug, and she awkwardly wraps her hands around his back. When they part, he glances around. ‘I’ll help you out with the suitcases.’

‘Thanks, but you don’t have to—’

‘I can’t let you carry all of that yourself,’ he argues, already reaching for the suitcases. ‘C’mon. You spent days getting here.’

Accepting that he has a point, she lets him take over, but keeps her backpack. They’re actually faster this way, too. John B tells her he parked a little out of the parking lot so he wouldn’t need to “pay the outrageous price”, and the refusal of going with the system warms her heart a little.

John B’s taller than her by a few inches and he’s got that broad-shouldered, chiselled-body look from what she can tell (his muscles are literally about to pop out of his shirt.) Usually, going into a car with someone like this and letting them drive her to their place would feel ridiculous, but the boy looks as far from menacing as possible.

(Still, Kie tells herself she’d fend him off if she had to. Truth is, she’s crashing from the lack of proper sleep and she hasn’t had food in over twelve hours and she’s a little bit exhausted.)

His car is actually an orange van filled with trinkets belonging to him and his friends; when Kie climbs into it, it feels as if it has a personality of its own. It’s as brown on the inside as it is on the outside, and she likes the whole hippie, surfer vibe it’s going on. She’s not sure if that extends to its owners, but she’s happy to find out.

John B takes care of the suitcases. She throws the backpack with them, relishing in not having to carry anything for the first time in days.

‘There’s a sandwich for you.’ John B reaches into the glove department, taking out something that Kie never would’ve guessed is a sandwich. ‘Pope made it. He’s pretty good with food.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

Kie takes it and examines it a little. John B drives them onto the road, driving close to the beach – she looks out with longing in her heart. It makes her decide to not be ungrateful and takes a bite into the sandwich that, surprisingly, actually turns out to be delicious.

John B takes a turn. ‘You ready to see your new home?’

(Kie is starting to think that smile is permanently etched on his face.)

‘Temporary home,’ she emphasises, then flinches at the intensity of her own tone. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a few long days. Right now, a bed is all I can think about.’

‘We set up your bed yesterday. The whole room is in a really good state.’

They get onto a bigger road and right into the traffic, but John B doesn’t seem to mind. He puts on a chill reggae song (is this really happening? did she get that lucky?) and hums to it, before turning back to Kie.

‘Sarah actually insisted on getting you some new bedsheets and all, so it’s all ready for you.’

‘Sarah?’

‘My girlfriend. She lives downstairs.’

‘Oh, that’s nice.’

‘Yeah, she’s pretty nice,’ says John B, in this half-dazed voice that tells Kie the couple is definitely still in the honeymoon phase. ‘How was the sandwich, by the way?’

‘It was amazing, thanks.’

He doesn’t ask anything else and she doesn’t have anything to say, so she puts up the volume up the tiniest bit, and lets herself relax a little. (Even if she’s about to be sacrificed to a cult – she deserves to breathe.)

Kildare is prettier in real life than in pictures. It’s one of the older fishing towns, with modern job prospects only flourishing in the past half a century, so most of the houses are ancient, for American standards. The beach is nice and although the waves don’t seem to be the same, she knows she’ll manage. She plans to make herself busy in town, anyway, but knowing that she’s not bound to land is soothing enough.

‘So,’ says John B after the second Marley song ends. ‘What’s your story?’

‘Oh, quite boring, actually,’ she admits. ‘Squabbled with my parents and decided to move to the other end of the country.’

‘Ah.’

‘Yeah.’

He ponders over her words a little, then gives her a glance and a warm smile. ‘Kildare is a pretty good place to start a new life.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Mhm. The best, actually. We’ve got everything you could possibly need.’

The hints of humour in his voice drag a smile out of her, too. ‘What, like housemates who try to pull a Hotel California on you?’

John B lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Exactly! But don’t tell the others.’

He embarks on a brief history of Kildare and manages to entertain her enough to keep her from falling asleep – she thinks he might be a tour guide. John B’s lived here his entire life, only moving to the city when his dad died a few years ago. He could go back to his “Chateau”, but he says there’s something nice about having his old home be a getaway, now.

By the time they actually arrive at John B’s—their—apartment, Kie feels like she knows exactly what the boy with the bandanna around his neck is made of. He’s quite simple and easy to understand.

Kie likes simple.

When they pull up in the parking lot of their apartment complex, a boy John B refers to as their housemate Pope is waiting on the porch. He ends up being a tall, dark-skinned boy John B’s age with a little less enthusiasm, but a little more maturity. He’s wearing a shirt over a tee and a pair of shorts, shaking her hand.

‘Hey, Kiara. I’m glad to finally have you here,’ he says, giving her a smile that’s more reserved than John B’s. ‘Are you sure you’re okay being with four boys?’

It’s half serious and half a joke, but she chuckles regardless. ‘I guess I’ll have to be.’

John B appears at her side, handing Pope one of her suitcases. ‘She’ll be fine. She likes reggae and I think she likes the beach, she’ll fit right in.’

Kie just looks at him, eyebrows raised.

All she gets in return is a shrug and another smile. ‘What? I saw you staring at the beach and don’t tell me you turned up the volume on that Bob Marley song.’

‘I love Bob Marley.’

‘Good, because we are all very fond of Mr Marley,’ says Pope. He tilts his head then, frowns, and looks over at his friend. ‘Does Kelce like Bob Marley?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Huh. Well, we should probably get going.’

In the end, Kie enters their apartment building with the bandanna boy behind her, and Pope in the front. Each of the boys is carrying a suitcase and John B took it upon himself to carry the backpack, too; the lack of any weight, for the first time in days, feels disconcerting.

‘So on the ground floor, there’s the Glissons,’ John B tells her. ‘A pretty charming family with one kid, but they can be loud sometimes. I can hear the kid screaming in the backyard from my window.’

John B ends up telling her the stories of all residents as they walk up the stairs. It’s interesting, and it’s all the people she’ll be seeing around for a while, but Kie can’t pay attention for more than two minutes for the life of her. Judging by the way Pope’s shoulders are slumped, he’s not listening to the boy, either.

‘This is Sarah’s apartment,’ John B says, with a smile on his face once again. ‘She’ll come by later, she’s at work right now, but she’s really excited to meet you.’

‘Oh, I’m excited to meet her, too.’

Kie finds it a little odd that everybody seems so excited to meet her, but doesn’t dwell on it. Maybe it’s normal, and she’s the odd one.

‘Yeah, she said she stalked you on Instagram, or something.’ He frowns a little, eyes shifting from Kie to Pope. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.’

Kie feels the tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind.’

At least being excited after stalking her Instagram account and therefore knowing something about her (travelling, blogging, feminism, activism, and probably some other stuff) makes sense for someone to be excited.

(She’s also slightly taken aback at John B’s tone insinuating that the boys didn’t perform a background check on her before letting her stay with them. She certainly did one on them – or tried, really, because they didn’t end up being much of social media people.)

‘So,’ says Pope, ‘here we are.’

The trio don’t dwell before opening the door to the apartment. It’s a rather newish place with walls painted a soft, creamy brown; right behind the door is a massive coat rack with a variety of styles displayed on it – from leather to plaid jackets, and an occasional winter coat. The smell of the flat is nice, surprisingly. Sweet.

John B gets in behind them, her suitcase creaking as he pulls it over the doorstep, and shuts the door.

‘So? What do you think?’ Pope has a nervous look on his face.

‘It looks nice, so far,’ Kie says, giving him a smile.

‘So far,’ John B chuckles. ‘Just wait till you see what we have done with the living room.’

‘Alright, show me. Better sooner than later.’

‘You’re gonna love it,’ says Pope, in a voice that’s either really genuine or oddly sarcastic.

She doesn’t have the time to build up expectations before the boys urge to keep going forward. They pass Pope’s bedroom on the left, next to the first bathroom, and Kelce’s bedroom is on the right. The hallway widens in the front and there’s a corridor that extends to each side – she thinks it’s a little weird that the middle of the flat is basically an intersection but hey, she’s not an architect. John B tells her it’s him and JJ on the left, and Kie’s on the right, with the second bathroom and a storage/laundry room to keep her company.

In front of them is a massive open-plan living room/kitchen, painted a very soothing baby blue all over. The room seems to be split in half by an island counter with barstools propped up around it – kitchen elements are to the left, and the couch and the medium-sized TV with a PlayStation underneath are to the right. The curtains are wide open with sun shining bright enough to make the whole place liven up.

There’s also the tiny aspect of the decor that she assumes was the boys’ touch. Road signs and traffic cones and even something long and thin that seems a little too much like a ramp are scattered across the living area. Above the couch is a massive pin board with a lot of notes, letters, postcards, schemes and designs for something that resembles cars; and all of this is put together by several different strings of fairy lights, pinned all around the walls—even the ceiling—looking like weeds, almost.

Kie lets out a surprised, breathy laugh.

It’s not that it isn’t nice. It just… not what she expected, really.

(The surfer girl in her is living for this.)

John B goes to stand in front of her, arms spread wide and a dumb grin on his face. In the middle of the living room, like this, he looks like the king of his castle – Kie’s laugh becomes a little firmer.

‘And?’

She grins, wide and honest. ‘I love it.’

The boys cheer and John B flings himself at Pope, next to Kie, smacking a high-five to his hand. They walk further into the room. Pope goes into the kitchen, and Kie and John B take a seat on the barstools. He gives them a glass of water, each (‘Sarah and I are doing this healthy living thing, so I only drink water and milkshakes.’)

‘This place is really nice,’ Kie admits, then nods towards the collection of things from the road with a smirk. ‘Not very legal, though.’

‘Are you a cop?’ asks John B.

‘No?’

‘Do you know a cop?’

‘…no?’

‘Will you tell a cop?’

‘Look, if you get me drunk enough, I’ll be the one adding some more to the collection.’

If there was any tension between them, it dissipated in this very moment. Kie’s statement seems to confirm the boys’ assumptions – she is going to become one of them, they tell her that much. It’s this fact that earns Kie a lunch because she arrived here, and John B lunch because he brought her here. JJ earns his lunch by simply not being here to make his own, according to Pope, who Kie learns absolutely adores cooking.

It’s lovely. They have a good vibe between them and they’re not excluding her, and she feels comfortable around them.

John B takes her to her room shortly after they’re all done eating their tacos.

‘There you go,’ he says, opening the door to her room. ‘It’s not much, but…’

Kie walks in and feels herself smiling. ‘I love it.’

It’s a cosy room – queen-sized bed with soft purple bedding, a long desk right underneath the window looking west with a simple white desk lamp from IKEA with a black wooden chair, three shelves on each side of the window, and a modest closet that she already knows she’ll only half fill with the things she brought. There’s enough floorspace for her to bring some decorations in (maybe a mirror and some plants – Kie always wanted that.) Her suitcases in the space between the closet and the wall, with her black backpack perched on top of one.

Like John B said, it’s not much, but it already feels more like home than her actual bedroom ever did.

‘The bedsheets, uh, they’re Sarah’s, but she’s okay with you keeping them.’

‘I’ll give them back, don’t worry.’ Kie opens the window wide, letting fresh air in. ‘What’s her favourite chocolate?’

The boy frowns, thinking. His arm is leaning on the doorframe and his forehead against his arm, and he looks both quite out of place and perfectly in place.

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘She prefers milkshakes, anyway. You know, that homemade stuff. She’s trying to get me into that, but it’s just too much effort, y’know?’

‘Effort is always too much.’

‘I know, right?’ John B groans, playing along (or maybe he doesn’t notice the teasing in her voice.) ‘Anyway, I’ve got stuff to do. Pope said he’d make dinner for everybody tonight, I can let you know when that’s ready, if you want. I was thinking about having a chill night, but you’re tired, JJ isn’t back yet, and I don’t know where Kelce is, so we should do it some other time.’

Kie frowns. ‘Is Kelce not around often?’

‘Eh,’ says John B, shrugging. ‘He doesn’t like us very much, I think, but he just stays away.’

This Kelce guy doesn’t sound like he’ll be as nice to be around as the two she’s met so far, but Kie doesn’t allow concern about that to take over.

‘Knock on my door, then. I’m a light sleeper.’

John B nods, wishes her a good nap, and closes the door when he leaves.

The silence that befalls is different than the one back home. There, she could always hear the vastness of the empty space when her parents aren’t around; she would be drowning in knowing that she’s the only being alive on the premises. Even this tiny bedroom seemed more alive – if she leans out of the window, she can see Kildare around her. The apartment breaths with life.

For a moment, Kie just looks around, trying to rewrite her life in her head – this is her life now. This little bedroom, four guys out of whom two are suspiciously kind and the other two she hasn’t met, and Kildare.

It’s not a dream. The bed she sits on is a little creaky but the bedding is soft and smells like her grandmother’s backyard, and it’s real.

All of this is real.

Kie starts crying.

★

A couple hours later, John B’s knock wakes her up. She tells him she’ll be there in a few and he replies something she doesn’t catch, but she hears footsteps before she can ask.

Rolling over on the bed sheets, still wearing the clothes she travelled in, Kie feels like she woke up in a different reality. Before her nap, she managed to compose herself enough to get some of her belongings sorted – the books she brought are on the shelves, her journal and a pen are on the desk, and a clean change of clothes is neatly folded on the chair. The room still doesn’t really feel hers, but it’s starting to.

(She doesn’t want to think ahead of herself, so she doesn’t think about tomorrow, or the day after, or whatever is going to happen with jobs and—No.)

Kie rubs her eyes. Her stomach grumbles and she pushes herself off the bed; the beige walls look brighter than they were when she fell asleep. She opens the window again, leaning through it – she can see someone’s window being wide open on her floor. She wonders if it’s John B or that JJ guy.

Kildare looks pretty from here. The view isn’t the greatest, but it’s unfamiliar, and Kie loves that.

It takes her nearly half an hour to get herself to the kitchen. She ends up opting for a shower, first, because priorities are priorities and she washed herself in the disgusting bus stations for days.

She’s halfway through showering, hair all wet, when she realises that she doesn’t have a shampoo. Or anything else, for that matter. Which is terrible, because Kie is quite particular about her shower routine and the fact that he’s prevented from enjoying it, truly puts a damper on her day. Using someone else’s shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, all of that… It’s not her favourite.

In this situation, she wouldn’t really wash her hair if that’s the case (it’s curly, okay) but there’s someone’s coconut shampoo for dry hair and a matching conditioner and okay, maybe she’ll steal a little bit of that. The shower gel is one of the minty Axe ones and she knows that she will smell like a man, but it’s either that or keeping on the smell of all the buses she’d been on.

(She hopes no one will notice.)

The bathroom itself is smaller than she expected, but there’s a toilet and a shower tub and a mirror over a sink with a cupboard behind the glass, and it’s cute. The only thing she notes is that there’s only one of everything. Could it really be only one person using the bathroom? She’s the only one in this end of the corridor, and the only thing here aside from her bedroom and the bathroom is the storage that also serves as the laundry room.

It could be any of the boys. Or, actually, she assumes it can’t be Pope or Kelce, since they have a bathroom in their corridor. Probably John B, then – he seems like he cares enough about the way he looks to have some nicer hair products.

Looking in the foggy mirror, Kie feels as if the mirror is making her face look thinner than it is. That could be the case, but knowing what kind of stress she’d put herself under for the past few days… and the lack of eating…

She leaves the bathroom looking a bit better for the wear, and smelling like a minty coconut.

(I’m not trying to make an impression, she tells herself, but the lie falls flat even in her own head.)

Kie dries hair quickly with a fancy cotton towel she took—stole?—from home. She puts on the clean clothes, feeling very Lara Croft-y in her black tank top and denim shorts; it’s a confidence boost, for sure. She finishes it off with a pair of converse trainers (she forgot to pack slippers) and sets out for the kitchen. The smell of food fills the corridor, and her stomach churns.

‘What smells so good?’ she asks, right before entering.

‘Hey, Kiara.’ Pope’s leaning on the island counter as he eats out of a massive pot with a spoon, giving her a warm grin. ‘You’re looking fresh.’

‘Had a shower. Works wonders. It’s Kie for friends, by the way.’ Pope hums in response and Kie approaches the kitchen, looking into the pot. It looks like a bolognese sauce, except the colour seems is more of an orange than a begie, and there’s a few scents to it she can’t identify. ‘What’s that?’

‘Bolognese a la Pope Heyward. I’ll get you a spoon and a fork.’

‘Is it spaghetti?’

‘It’s penne, why?’

Kie pretends to gag, taking a seat at the island counter. ‘I hate spaghetti. I just can’t’—she makes a rounding motion with her hands—‘twist it the right way.’

Pope laughs as he hands her a plate and a fork. He has a nice laugh, Kie notes – it involves the entirety of his face, with his eyebrows going up a little bit. It’s sweet.

‘Yeah, spaghetti tends to be ridiculous sometimes,’ he tells her, leaning on his elbow against the counter. ‘You’ve got to cook them just the right way. Timing and salt is everything.’

‘I don’t like to cook by the rules, so precise dishes don’t really suit me.’

‘You’re more the type to cook by the heart?’

‘Eh, I guess you could say that.’ She takes the fork and pushes the penne around until it’s all mixed together – and realises just how much food that is. She brings her eyes to meet Pope’s. ‘This looks absolutely amazing, but I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all of it.

He waves her off. ‘JJ will finish it, if you don’t. He told me to leave him everything that’s not eaten by the end of the day, although he had more than a fair share already.’

Kie perks up at this, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. ‘He’s home? I thought John B said he was at work.’

‘He came back about an hour ago. Wanted to use the shower after eating, but you must’ve been using his bathroom, so he went for a jog instead.’

There’s no way—

‘His bathroom? But I thought John B said everything was communal.’

She should’ve known the toiletries would belong to one of the two flatmates she hasn’t met. She should’ve known that at some point, her luck had to start running out.

Kie runs a hand through her hair and the scent of coconut and mint both engulf her; she pulls her hand down immediately, gauging Pope’s reaction. Can he smell it on me?

‘It’s communal,’ he says, ‘but he’s been the only one using that bathroom since Topper left. John B’s lazy, he likes to shower in the one that’s closer. Or at Sarah’s.’

‘So I can use it, right?’

‘Of course!’ he says, as if he hadn’t pretty much just told her it’s JJ’s. ‘JJ will get used to it, as long as you’re clean.’

Come think of it, the bathroom was unusually clean for a boy. ‘Is he a clean freak?’

‘No it’s more like… He just likes to have a safe space. It’s him and showers, or water in general – I often joke that he’s a siren.’

With her heart finally at peace, knowing that JJ won’t gauge her eyes out for taking a shower, Kie takes the first bite of Pope’s dish. It’s still warm and absolutely delicious, and he laughs when she lets something along the lines of a moan.

‘Pope, this is — oh my god.’

Tilting his head down, the boy’s face stretches into a shy smile. He grabs a wet glass from the drying rack and starts wiping it with a cloth, leaning against the counters. ‘Thanks. I’m having a good day, so.’

He doesn’t finish. Kie takes another bite and says, ‘So you’re cooking for everybody.’

‘Yeah. Kind of.’

‘That’s pretty nice of you. I’ll cook tomorrow, if you’ll have me. I’m not the greatest of cooks, but there’s some Asian dishes I can cook pretty well and—’

‘Kie, that would be amazing.’

‘Yeah, well – I try. Don’t judge before you try.’ Kie isn’t too keen on hyping herself up. Offering to cook is fine, but she doesn’t want anyone to have expectations.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence; all Kie can hear is her munching on the bolognese, and Pope drying the dishes and putting them away (Kie makes a mental note of what goes where, and another note to ask what is communal and what isn’t.)

‘Why do you call JJ a siren?’

Pope seems a bit stricken with surprise at Kie’s question, but answers quickly regardless. ‘He’s like that. Mischievous, will die if away from a body of water for too long, lures a lot of people to his bedroom… He’s got quite a reputation.’

‘He’s a player,’ Kie interprets.

‘I— Yeah. Kind of.’ Pope makes a grimace that tells her he’s not the greatest fan of that. ‘It doesn’t happen to often, anymore. Work’s been keeping him really busy these past few months.’

Kie just nods. She’s not a fan of casual hookups herself (there’s gotta be…something to them) and she usually doesn’t mind someone else doing that sort of thing, or one-night stands, but she doesn’t quite fancy the idea of random people being around the apartment.

It may be a bit evil, but Kie likes to hear he hasn’t been having sex as often.

(She doesn’t even know the first thing about the guy – it is evil.)

‘What does he do?’ she asks in an effort to distract herself.

‘Mechanics. Engineering.’

‘Mechanical engineering?’

Pope frowns and tilts his head, shaking it a little. ‘Not quite. It’s complicated. He’s a really smart guy, he’ll explain it to you himself. He should be back anytime now, I don’t know what’s taking him so long. Usually he jogs for half an hour only – must’ve been a long day at work.’

Kie opens her mouth to ask what JJ does for work, when she realises that she’d kind of already asked that. Instead, she finishes her meal and then washes up, listening to Pope talk about his own issues at work (he’s a coroner, which is only slightly morbid, but somehow fits him.) He talks about it a lot, so when John B joins them fresh out of the shower and lets them know Sarah’s coming over in a bit, she’s saved. John B drags Pope into telling her some of the shenanigans the group has been up to during their long friendship, and Kie notices how much John B’s energy makes Pope more energetic.

That’s the thing about John B – his energy is contagious even when he’s not the one talking the most. Even Kiara feels more awake than she did minutes earlier.

Nothing about moving to Kildare is how she expected it to be. It seems too easy – too natural. John B and Pope accepted her into the apartment group as if she’d always been a part of it, and they’re all like a family (cooking for everybody? Where did they come from?) and Kie is not used to it.

She’s never had friends who felt like family. No, scratch that – she’s never had a family that felt this much like family.

Eventually, Kie goes to rest on the couch while John B updates Pope on the latest news about Kildare’s football team (Kie’s starting to think he might actually be a football coach, now.) Pope doesn’t seem to be listening that much, but John B doesn’t notice, so it’s fine.

She sees JJ for the first time about an hour since she came out of the shower, and he’s no more than a blotch in the corner of her eye as he marches from the main entrance into his room.

‘JJ?’ calls John B. No answer, but they hear a door shut. ‘Kiara’s here!’

‘Kie,’ Pope reminds him, and gives the girl a gentle smile.

No answer comes. The door shuts again. This time, Kie sees a boy slide by, too fast for her to see him properly – but he’s tall, with hair definitely a dirty blonde or a light brown.

Right before they hear the bathroom (her bathroom) door slam, a voice shouts, ‘I’ll be there in ten!’

Pope sighs. ‘Multiply that by two.’

‘Three.’

‘Maybe four, if he got really sweaty.’

‘He could be doing himself up for Kie.’

It’s an offhand comment that’s supposed to be a joke, including her in this whole banter thing, but Kie’s cheeks go ablaze at the idea. Not too long ago she was doing herself up for them in that very same bathroom.

(First impressions matter, okay?)

‘We apologise on JJ’s behalf,’ says Pope. He’s looking at her over the island counter, with one elbow propped up on it to hold his chin. ‘He can be a hardass sometimes.’

‘And he won’t apologise,’ adds John B. ‘Got a stick up his ass.’

‘He’s a nice guy, though.’

‘Yeah,’ Kie muses, ‘I can tell.’

The boys just sigh, telling her that they can’t convince her otherwise until he convinces her, and Kie starts cataloguing everything she knows about this JJ guy.

Tall, probably blonde, probably lean. Uses coconut-scented, quality hair products and keeps his bathrooms clean – high maintenance. Demanding, or at least that’s what she got from his asking Pope to save him the food. He seems to go on jogs often, so he’s probably sporty, caring either about his appearance or health. He’s got a job that keeps him busy and it’s got something to do with mechanics and engineering (but not together), so he’s probably quite smart. A player who’s currently on hold, so he could be cranky if there’s a lot of sexual frustration pent up. Slightly possessive (his bathroom?) and not really the one for manners, if him not introducing himself is anything to go by.

From what the boys told her, she thought he’d be fun – the guy she has in her head doesn’t seem like the guy who’d tape fairy lights all over the living room and decorate it with stolen road signs, or really like the ocean.

So, JJ – Kie’s not his biggest fan.

(He definitely pales in comparison to John B and Pope. Maybe he doesn’t take change well; maybe he doesn’t like newcomers in his inner circle.

She isn’t already making excuses for his behaviour.)

There’s the irritating iPhone message chime somewhere in the room, interrupting whatever conversation the boys have been having while she’s thinking about their friend. John B reaches into his pocket and reads the message from his phone. ‘Sarah’s here. I’ll go get her, JJ must’ve locked the door.’

‘Dumbass,’ says Pope, as if locking the door isn’t the sensible thing to do.

(Maybe JJ isn’t all bad.)

Surprisingly, Kie isn’t too bothered about the girlfriend coming up. She sounds nice, from what John B has told her, and she’s actually looking forward to a dash of femininity in the place.

Sarah Cameron ends up being an incredibly lovely girl, and a completely suitable match for John B – neither of them know when to shut up. In a good way, of course, because Kie likes listening to both of them.

‘So, how are you enjoying your room? I wanted to get you some plants and stuff, but John B said it’s probably best if you get them yourself. I know you probably don’t know a lot of people in Kildare and I thought I’d help out. Boys, as you know, aren’t the best at being welcoming.’

‘Actually, I’d say they’ve been pretty welcoming.’ Despite the fact that her housemates are engaged in a very passionate conversation about something, she doesn’t want to trash-talk them. ‘Better than I expected, anyway.’

Sarah chuckles, draping an arm over the back of the couch. ‘Just you wait, honestly. They’re absolutely ridiculous, I love them. They’re chaotic as it is, but with JJ around, it’s all hell breaking lose.’

‘That bad?’

‘That bad.’

Exciting, crosses Kie’s mind in a sarcastic tone, until she realises that she genuinely is excited at the prospect of chaos. His life’s been lacking it for a good few years now, if she’s being honest. Besides, all these conflicting statements about JJ and the lack of any mention of Kelce whatsoever is making her curious about the two missing housemates.

And Sarah is nice, which is why she says, ‘We can go get some plants together, if you’re down. I’ve been meaning to get some anyway.’

The blonde clasps her hands together, cheeks stretching into a wide grin. ‘Great! Could you do tomorrow? After three, though, because I’ll be in kindergarten until then.’

‘Yeah, tomorrow sounds great, just let me know when you’re back here.’

And any other day. Any time. It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be.

Another part of her mind concerns with the whole “kindergarten” part, but she figures she’ll find out, eventually.

‘You drive?’ asks Sarah.

‘Yeah, but I don’t have a car here. Yet.’

She thinks of her car back home – it was a nice car. Kie loved that car, especially when something would need fixing and she and her dad would get into their ugly and old clothes and—

Kie rests her arm on the back of the couch, glancing at the girl sitting next to her. She’s wearing a floral tube top and high-waisted denim jeans, with her blonde hair loose save for the two front pieces on each side that she plaited – it’s an effortlessly chic look.

‘That’s fine,’ she says. ‘I can drive. I’m honestly so happy there’s finally a girl in the flat, I’ve been telling them that this place is lacking a feminine touch for ages. As much as I love them, it gets a little too full of testosterone sometimes.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be giving it much of a feminine touch.’

It’s a joke, but it catches Pope’s attention: ‘The most feminine thing we’ve got is JJ’s coconut hair set. I feel like that says enough.’

Kie’s cheeks flare up at the comment. She tells herself no one will connect the dots despite her smelling like minty coconut. First things first, she needs to go shopping tomorrow, and she’s happy to hear that Sarah is more than willing to accompany her.

‘So, shopping tomorrow?’ asks the blonde.

John B makes a groan that sounds a lot like “girls”, but blows Sarah an air kiss the moment she gives him the death glare.

Kie doesn’t hide her laughter, and neither does Pope hide his groan that sounds a lot like “couples”. It only makes Kie laugh harder, before she composes herself.

‘Shopping, definitely. I need things.’

‘And we can go sightseeing. I know all the best places in Kildare—’

‘Unless you’re showing her the Boneyard, you’re not showing her anything worth seeing.’

Her eyes are drawn to the unfamiliar voice coming from the corridor, and she stifles a small gasp.

Kiara Carrera has seen a fair share of shirtless boys throughout her life. Most of them, however, were expected – at the beach, at the pool, or in the bedroom. Most of them she was mentally prepared for and they didn’t catch her off-guard. Realistically, she knows he just came out of the shower – but there is absolutely no fucking need for him to be walking around in just a towel, and a loosely wrapped one around his waist most of all. Not with hair that’s still damp and dripping down his bare torso, making him look like he’s glistening.

And Kie’s got eyes – the lean muscle covering the entirety of his torso and arms doesn’t go unnoticed.

(It should.)

Pope sighs as the group watches JJ make a beeline for the hob with the sauce and the pasta on it. ‘And this is JJ,’ he says. ‘JJ, Kie.’

She tries looking everywhere but his body, and it’s surprisingly difficult. ‘Hey.’

The blond boy glances in her direction and nods, then glances at John B. ‘I went to the pier today. Had a fucking day at the workshop, the fucking asshole kept giving me the most tedious jobs just because I told him he was wrong.’

‘Was he?’

JJ snorts and fills up a plate. ‘Fuck yeah.’

As he continues telling the boys about his day, munching on the food with his back turned to Kie, Sarah indulges her in a conversation about music. Kie tries to focus, she really does because she really appreciates the girl trying so hard, but she can’t focus on anything when she’s staring at the back of someone built like that.

Besides, he’s acting like Kie’s not even there. She tells herself that she isn’t hurt, that she expected something like that – she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and…

Yeah.

He doesn’t even so much as look at her.

Not too long after that, Kie bids her goodbyes as she goes back to her room. Things seem a little weighty now that JJ’s around and the boys seem to not understand that there’s something off – it’s easier to just leave the room.

She’s got to unpack, anyway. There’s a load of clothes and knick-knacks she took from home that she needs to put somewhere.

Kie begins with her backpack, seeing as it’s got the least things in it. The first thing she takes out is the phone and the charger along with it; the device is heavy in her hand. If she turns it on, she knows she’ll have dozens of missed calls and texts, despite her leaving a note before she left.

The note doesn’t matter. They don’t understand.

(That’s why she left, but it’s not like they’ll understand that, either.)

She puts it off for a while but the pressure is on the fact that she applied to jobs with this phone number and she needs to be available. If she wants to act like a grown up then there’s some sacrifices that need to be made.

Reluctantly, Kie plugs the phone into the charger, but doesn’t turn it on just yet.

★

Kie doesn’t plan on seeing anyone again. It’s nearly two in the morning already, so she doesn’t think before she goes to the kitchen wearing nothing but an old Bob Dylan sweater and pyjama shorts.

She just wants some berry tea, really, because falling asleep in a strange bed is more difficult than she thought.

The fairy lights are on – all of them. The blue light is bright enough to shine the corridor, reflecting pleasantly from the brown walls. Kie rubs her eyes, having come out of a completely dark room.

It’s almost intimate, the little differences in colour from one set of lights to another; all in different shades of blue. It must be John B, but hopefully she doesn’t walk in on him and Sarah – not like she’s judging a book by its cover, but both of them seemed confident and open enough so that Kie wouldn’t be surprised if they have a sort of a public kink, or something.

(Sometimes it’s fun to be risky; the possibility of getting caught adds a certain kind of flavour.)

Kie steps into the kitchen, and the light shines on the back of JJ’s tee.

Fuck.

This is, like, the worst case scenario. Of all the people—

‘Hi,’ she says.

JJ doesn’t react. He’s fiddling with something on the counter, his body swaying from side to side in rhythm. He turns his head a bit to the right, reaching for a cutting knife, and she finally sees the earbuds.

Kie lets out a heavy sigh, feeling her fingers going a little cold.

(It’s not from the room temperature, because the apartment is roasting.)

Bracing herself, Kie makes a beeline for the kettle, feeling much like JJ earlier today. He still doesn’t notice; he’s humming along to a song and it’s familiar enough that she almost gets it. She checks the kettle—empty—and turns to fill it up when she nearly bumps into the blond’s chest.

JJ whisper-screams a profanity, just whatever he was holding thumps on the ground.

Kie flinches, too, so she figures an apology isn’t necessary (it’s not like she wanted to scare him. She said hi.)

Still, she takes a step back. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to— We must’ve turned around at the same time.’

‘Yeah, must’ve.’ JJ crouches and picks up the bread and whatever’s fallen out of it, all with a melodramatic sigh. ‘Can I eat that?’

She looks at his hands – ham, cheese, pickles, and a sauce. She feels her face distort. ‘Absolutely not.’

JJ sighs again, then throws it all into the bin. Kie notices he hasn’t taken out the earbuds as she fills up the kettle and sets it to boil; he delves into the fridge and starts making another sandwich.

Rude.

Then again, it is the middle of the night. She’s not feeling very chatty, either.

She starts making her tea and struggles to find the mugs and the teabags, but doesn’t ask for help. It’s odd; all she can hear is the clanking of her moving around the kitchen, JJ preparing a sandwich, and his humming along to the music in his ears.

It’s exhausting.

‘How come you’re still up?’ she asks. He doesn’t acknowledge her so she taps on his shoulder, waits until he takes an earbud out, and asks again. ‘Can’t sleep?’

‘I’ve got work.’

He doesn’t elaborate. Kie’s jaw clenches and she lets out a huff, just in time for it to be drowned out by the sound of the kettle boiling.

She goes to tend to her tea, then looks back at JJ – it must be a good sign that the earbud is still hanging off his neck. ‘What’s the Boneyard?’

‘You still don’t know?’

JJ’s tone is demeaning, almost amused – and Kie doesn’t like it the least, so she decides to be just as respectful. ‘Would I be asking if I did?’

He looks at her, for once; his eyes gaze into hers as if he’s trying to decipher her. The chuckle he lets out is a little more amused and the corners of his lips turn upwards ever so slightly.

That’s the closest to a smile she’s seen on him so far.

‘No, guess not.’

‘So, you gonna tell me?’

His hands come to a still. He frowns, then grins. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

Right.

Kie has two options here – fall back, make her tea and leave, not cause any trouble, be the best possible flatmate she could be so they don’t kick her out. If JJ doesn’t like her, that’s on him. It’s also probably what he’s expecting, for her to do all the work.

A smile flutters on her lips. Kie has never been one for choosing the passive option.

‘What’s your deal?’ she asks, pulling her mug up to her chest. ‘Having a bad day?’

He looks at her with his head tilted a little; she’s pretty sure there’s annoyance written in the wrinkle between his brows, tiredness in his bright eyes. ‘Have I not made that clear enough? What’s with all the questions?’

‘Dunno.’ She shrugs, holding her mug to her chest. ‘We’re living together, shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’

‘I don’t really care, to be honest.’

He might’ve as well just slapped her across the face. She blinks and swallows the sudden lump in her throat. ‘Right.’

JJ puts the new sandwich on a plate and he starts walking out of the kitchen when he turns on his heel, sighing. ‘Okay, what’s your deal, then? Why’d you come all the way here from Outer Banks on such a short notice? What are you running from?’

The blue light is behind JJ, softening his silhouette and making him look like he’s glowing. Menacing or benevolent, Kie would go for the former. Her blood runs cold and that’s not a feeling she wants to experience in her new home.

(But the way he’s looking at her, it’s not menacing. It’s curious – it’s as if he wants to gauge her reaction more than the answer itself.)

What are you running from?

Instead of giving him what he wants, Kie takes a sip of her tea and ignores the liquid scorching her tongue. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

JJ raises his eyebrows and she thinks she sees a smile betraying him in the corners of his lips, shaking his head. ‘See?’

‘See what?’

‘Questions,’ he says, ‘they’re too much.’

He’s the type of guy Kie usually cannot stand – full of self-assurance and bravado that may or may not be real. He also knows how to get someone like Kie, usually very vocal and confident, into tripping over her own words.

At a loss for words, she squeezes herself into the counter so he can pass between her and the chair, when his head tilts, nose scrunched, and his eyes glancing at her hair. ‘Do we have the same shampoo?’

‘Oh, I used some of yours,’ she replies, pressing her mug even closer to her chest, forcing herself to not look away from him. ‘Sorry. I didn’t have my own, but I’ll get it tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘It’s fine, just don’t do it again.’

‘Okay.’

He turns around the island counter and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to sit there and her mind starts wondering whether that would make her want to stay in the kitchen more or less. But he keeps walking and nods at her from the entrance into the corridor, muttering an almost inaudible ‘goodnight.’

Kie waits for about a minute, sipping her tea, before she turns off the fairy lights and goes back to her room.

(She thinks about how fluffy JJ’s hair is when dry; how deep the circles under his eyes looked under the intensity of the blue light; about the tension in his shoulders that was present the entire time she was in the kitchen.)

She plops into her bed, finishing off her tea. Her phone’s still on the desk, now fully charged, calling to her.

It’s been nearly a whole day. Dragging it out will make the whole thing more painful than it already is, so she takes it in her hands, and holds the button on the side.

Kie spends the next fifteen minutes scrolling through the sea of messages her parents have drowned her phone in. Not just her parents – there’s messages from aunts and uncles, great aunts and cousins, both sets of grandparents as well. Much like she expected, instead of keeping their problems to themselves, her parents made them everybody else’s.

Some of the messages were encouraging – her dad’s mum told her to stay safe and smart and return home whenever she’s ready; her mum’s sister said that she understands her choice. Some were the exact opposite – a lot of them called her ungrateful, or attention seeking, or childish and irresponsible.

The worst one was from her mother. Granted, it was followed by an apology and a change of attitude, but the message is clear.

If you really think you’re ready to leave, be ready to make it permanent.

Kiara goes to sleep with one thought on her mind, and it’s that even with a housemate she doesn’t like, and one that she doesn’t know, and being on completely foreing ground, moving to Kildare was the smartest decision of her fucking life.

★

next chapter

#jiara #jiara fanfic #outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #my foolish heart series

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noonachronicles · 4 years

Text

The End of the F**king World Pt. 1

Byun Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Language. Violent imagery if you squint.

Genre: Apocalyptic/Alien Invasion AU. Slow Burn (ish?). One pining pup and one idiot in denial to eventual lovers.

A/N: I mean, idk, but do I ever? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Don’t forget to read the Prologue!

There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, which left the sun free to beat down on every inch of the city. Showering it completely in light. It was nice, the sun, especially when it had been mostly dark and rainy for weeks. Basking in the light of the sun this city looked like every other city in the world. Absolutely every other city.

Cement sidewalks and asphalt roads with their gaping holes from where bombs and missiles had landed. Skyrise buildings half destroyed by fires or from flooding. Windows covered in plywood, plywood riddled with bullet holes. Not a business in sight that hadn’t been ransacked. Nearly every inch of wall space and every abandoned or crashed vehicle was covered in spray paint. Messages of hope for survivors, warnings about certain spots in the city, brief apologies and goodbyes from those who just couldn’t do it anymore. Plants, weeds, grass, and flowers growing through cracks in cement. Overgrowth in certain places making the city look like a literal urban jungle.

Every major city in the world looked like this because every major city in the world got hit in exactly the same way. If not in the first wave then the second, and if not in the second then the third. And so on and so forth until they were all just empty shells of what they had once been.

The sound of your boots crunching against gravel and broken glass didn't even register to you any longer as you made your way down the empty street. Finally you found what you’d been looking for. A shop you’d noticed the other week but hadn’t had the chance to visit yet. The toy store was dark inside, left mostly untouched by looters except for the cash register. It had probably been busted open in the very beginning when people thought there would still be a use for money.

Old currency was rendered useless and the only survivors left now were the innovators, you thought to yourself as you peered through the window frame. It didn’t matter anymore what you had. Survival was about what you could do with what you found. The thought left you wondering how many people had walked past this shop without realizing its potential.

The storefront consisted of a three paneled window. Two of the panels had been smashed to nothing leaving an easy entrance into the store. The third window stood untouched, looking pristine. You rapped your knuckles against the completely intact glass and waited. It only took a couple of seconds. You could hear them before you saw them. A low hissing that sounded like getting the drool sucked out of your mouth at the dentists broke up with intermittent clicking. The sound either made your skin crawl in terror or it annoyed you. Today, luckily, it was just an annoyance more than anything else.

Grabbing the knife from the strap on your thigh, you focused in on the shadows of the aisles. There were two sets of four beady, silver eyes lurking in the dark. With a sigh you stepped through one of the broken windows and into the store. The hissing and clicking grew louder and more chaotic at your more obvious presence in the room. Resting the blade of your knife on your shoulder you made your aim. Then with a quick snap of your wrist the knife had shot through the air and projected into the shadows.

What happened next went fast, you knew it had to from your experience. As the first blade slipped from your fingers your hand had already dropped down to grab the second. The blade of the knife stuck between the four silver eyes and they went black. As the first grayish green, scaled beast fell forward into the light it’s counterpart opened its mouth wide to release a shrill shriek. The noise only pierced your ears briefly as you’d already thrown the second knife, the blade catching the beast in the throat. Those silver eyes drained to black as well and then it also fell forward into the light. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your small flashlight and clicked it on. Quickly, you scanned the other aisles of the store for other Lurkers. You were pleased to find none.

First things first. You moved over to the cash register and searched the shelves of the rounded counter. As to be expected it was mostly tiny plastic trinkets at eye level that children would have instantly fallen in love with and would offer one last minute, desperate plea for. You did eventually find what you were looking for. There on the bottom self seated between a box of rock hard tootsie rolls and several bags of gummy worms that looked like they’d melted during the summer heat and then cooled into a blobby swirl of sugary color. A jar of, likely expired, blow pops. Tearing off the lid you shoved your hand in to grab one. You unwrapped it quickly and shoved the candy between your cheek and teeth with a satisfied sigh.

With your sweet tooth satiated for now you bagged the rest of the suckers as well as a jar of jolly ranchers. Then you went to pull your knives from the Lurkers you’d left bleeding out onto the linoleum floor. Placing one foot against the head of the first Lurker you tugged at the handle of the knife until the blade was released with a nasty squelch. You gagged at the sound, for some reason that was always the worst part for you, and moved to the second. With both blades freed from their victims you stood up and looked around your immediate area. Thick, black, gooey blood dripped from the blades onto the floor with little splats. On the shelf next to you there was a display of stuffed kittens with big, pitiful eyes covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Sorry, buddy.” you said snatching one of the kittens and swiping your blades clean against the soft fur before tucking them back into their holster.

You walked the front part of the store first, making a mental inventory of what was there that you would consider usable. On the other side of the room there was a spinning display rack that had been completely stripped of its contents except for one single package of batteries. That’s what you’d come in for.

“Fuck.” you muttered and snatched the lone package from the rack and tore it open.

At least you could replace the batteries in your flashlight, which had been functioning on borrowed time.

Once your flashlight was back at full power you started to make your way down the aisles. Continuing to take more notes of inventory, you searched for something that would be useful now. Dragging your finger through the dirt on the shelves you passed left a cleared line in its wake. You’d found baby dolls, Barbie dolls, and more stuffed animals. Princess dresses and plastic jewelry. There was plastic, silver tiara on one shelf, with little plastic jewels. You grabbed it and placed it on your head before continuing on.

Basketballs, tennis rackets, and skateboards lined the next aisle. The one after that had action figures and puzzles. You took a mental note to let Baekhyun know about the rack of lightsabers. Though considering how much trouble he’d gotten in the last time he had one you’d have to save both of you the trouble and tell him when Chanyeol wasn’t around. By then you’d nearly given up on finding anything when you reached the back corner and saw exactly the kind of thing you were hoping for. An entire display of toddler toys, each box with a red sticker and bold white letters that read, Batteries Included!

“Oh, jackpot.” you grinned, dropping your backpack on the ground and getting to work.

The first few months after the invasion were the hardest. The stress from uncertainty had aged everyone a hundred years. The four of you had stayed in the safe room for four days before venturing out. It took four days of Baekhyun and Chanyeol watching the security cameras endlessly and listening to the random frequencies the radio would pick up, trying to learn what they could, before they felt confident enough to open the door. It ended up being lucky because the night they decided it was time, was the night the electricity shut off for good. None of you slept that night. You just sat with the flashlight in the center of the room and waited for what you’d hoped would be enough time for there to be daylight outside.

It had to be daylight. If nothing else the guys had confirmed that the creatures never came out during the day. There were hoards of them during the night hours but there was something about the light that made them sensitive. Baekhyun had a theory that there was something wrong with their eyes. He didn’t think they could see or if they could they couldn’t see very well. He felt confident that their strongest sense was their hearing. He ended up being correct, you’d found out after watching them a little longer.

In fact they ended up being relatively ineffective threats once you’d figured them out. They were easy to maneuver around as long as there weren’t too many. They were blind as bats and pretty easy to kill if you got them in any of their softer areas which turned out to be anywhere on their necks and the diamond shaped patch between their eyes. The unfortunate part was that if you found one there were more than likely a dozen more and that’s when you’d find trouble. One or two were easy to kill. Even three was doable for a select few of you, if you were on your own. If you ran into a pack or you ran into them at night however, you were done for. They became chaotic attackers when they had the support of a hoard behind them. Like wild, rabid dogs they would tear their victim to shreds in a minute or less. Which was why they still terrified you even after three years.

What you’d found when you walked out of the jewelry store on that fourth day was the complete destruction of everything you’d ever known. At that point almost everything still seemed to be on fire. Looters had come and gone, and were likely dead if they hadn’t gone into hiding in time. Buildings were still crumbling, sending debri crashing to the ground. Electricity was out everywhere but you did find that water was still running in some areas. You cried when you washed yourself for the first time in days. It wasn’t even anything nice. It was you in the bathroom of a coffee shop in your underwear, standing in front of the sink and wiping your body down with paper towels and hand soap. Still you cried. You’d cried a lot those first months, that whole first year really. You cried less these days.

Anywhere you walked you could see the creatures lurking in the dark, watching every move you made. Hissing, clicking and waiting for the sun to set. It’s why you’d all agreed they would be referred to as Lurkers, because that’s what they did. You didn’t go back to the jewelry store that night. You didn’t go back for more than a year. Instead the four of you collected food and what weapons you could before finding somewhere new and safe to stay. You did that every night for a week. You didn’t know exactly what Chanyeol and Baekhyun were looking for but you knew when they found it you could finally settle.

Hopping around from place to place is how you found Irene. She was a mess when you found her. Holed up in the corner of a broken cooler at a convenience store behind a barrier made out of boxes of beer. Trembling, sobbing, and dehydrated. It took hours for you to get her to even speak her name clearly. Later you found out her boyfriend had barricaded her in the cooler for her safety after he promised her he’d be back once he found his little brother. Then she watched him get torn apart by Lurkers through the cooler door while having to remain completely silent or risk being attacked herself. After that she joined your family, and the four of you became five.

As the days and weeks passed and you had become more comfortable and confident you started to explore the city. It was less for entertainment and done more so out of necessity. You needed supplies like food and weapons. The more you wandered and scavenged the more survivors you found. Groups of people like yours who’d been together since the invasion. As more people came out from their hiding spots obvious leaders showed themselves within your families, as your groups had been defined.

There were eight families and together you were the Community. The heads of each family met constantly in the beginning, trying to work out how best to work with one another and what they could offer each other. They all wanted to make sure that their families had everything they needed to survive without taking from any other families. In the end the city was separated into nine boroughs, a space for each family, each equal in square mileage. The ninth borough was the city center. All of the major arenas and theatres were there, all of the city's largest buildings. Underground parking lots at every corner. It was a hotbed for Lurkers. Entering any building was more than useless, it was a deathwish. Though it was safe enough to pass through during the day, so long as you stuck to the streets, by night it was wall to wall Lurkers.

During the first year the Community met once a day after scavanges and doled out supplies. Each family took only what they needed and then the rest was stored by the original scavenger. After the first year half of the survivors were gone. Mostly loss came from accidents or illness. Things that happened that required a doctor, a doctor that you didn’t have. However on the rare occasion someone would walk outside in the middle of the night and scream at the top of their lungs.

Nobody thought them cowardly. It wasn’t an easy life, there was nothing desirable about it. You weren’t even sure where your own will to survive was coming from. It hadn’t been as if there was an expiration date on Lurkers. There was no timeframe for when this would be over. No ETA of your old life getting back to you. No visible end to the invasion. Still you woke up every day and you tried. When you went to bed you went to bed with every expectation of doing it again the next day.

After the first year the Community had become a well oiled machine. Everything had been so well organized. And there were so few people that supplies started to last longer and there was less of a need to meet up everyday. Now the whole Community only came together once a week for a check in. This week's meeting happened to be today.

Once you’d broken apart every toddler toy in the store and collected their batteries, you found a manager's office in the back. You sat down in the pleather chair and pulled your walkman out of your backpack, replacing the batteries that had been dead for a couple days. Having the sound of music flowing through you brought you a sense of joy and content that you couldn’t explain. It was the only thing you’d found since the invasion that could bring you any sort of content or calm. Without it your brain was constantly running a thousand miles a minute with worry and anxiety. You weren’t sure what you’d do when the city stopped providing you with AA batteries.

As the music played you twirled around in the desk chair a few times with a yawn, before deciding to check the room for supplies. There wasn’t too much, a couple things here and there, but in the bottom drawer of the desk you found five of the little airplane sized bottles of whiskey and a dusty, water warped copy of 50 Shades of Grey. After downing two of the little bottles you’d kicked your feet up on the desk and flipped open the book. Then, with a pretty good buzz brewing, you read aloud to an audience of two dolls, a stuffed monkey and three Batman figurines sitting on top of a file cabinet. The next thing you knew you’d amused yourself to tears and were late to the meeting.

Luckily you weren’t too far from the amphitheater where the meetings were held, just a handful of blocks away. You’d even tried to sprint it but were embarrassed to realize that the little amount of alcohol you’d had left you in less than peak condition. In all fairness it had been a while since you’d really had a drink. It had been a long while since anyone had indulged in a drink really. In the first few months a lot of people drank heavily as a way to cope and to avoid thinking about the reality of the situation. Reckless, unchecked drinking unfortunately led to a lot of accidents and those accidents led to the deaths of several people. There had been one night when a member of one of the bigger families drank half a bottle of tequila and didn’t close the door to their shelter well enough. That night twenty people were lost. After that it was rare for people to drink, it was even rarer for them to get drunk.

The meeting had already started when you’d arrived. You could hear Chanyeol’s voice from outside the amphitheater as you stopped to catch your breath. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a ticket booth window, you realized you were still wearing the toy tiara you’d found. Spitting the gum from your blow pop into some grass, you pulled the tiara from your head and shoved it in a trash can near the entrance.

Everyone was already there, which wasn’t a surprise but it was still embarrassing when they realized you’d just come in. Every head turned to look at you. Chanyeol, Hyunwoo, Jihyo, Taeyong, Solar, Hongjoon, Hanbin, and Seungcheol all sat in the center as the representatives of their families, silently watching as you made your way towards the group. You avoided eye contact with Chanyeol at all costs, ducking your head as you made your way to your usual spot next to Seulgi.

“You’re late.” she whispered as Taeyong continued with what it was he’d been saying in reply to Chanyeol.

“Obviously…” you whispered back, she pinched your side until you flinched, “Did I miss anything?”

She shook her head no and you both turned your attention to Chanyeol who had stood again to speak.

“General census has been that all families are low on food and the map doesn’t look great either, we’ve almost scavenged the entire limits of the city with the exception of the red zone. All food source locations are near depleted in zones with larger families, the others are getting close as well. Next week each family will send two members to the Farm for supplies and fresh food. Heads have been discussing that we need to put more focus on our own gardens around the city. We’ll be changing priorities from scavenging to gardening and livestock. The few of us who will continue to scavenge will need to...will need to start moving outside of the city.”

Unease ran through the group, and there was a steady hum of murmurs. Leaving the city limits was a nerve wracking suggestion because no one in the Community had left the city since the first wave. No one knew how things were out there. And of the very few people who had gone to scope it out, no one had ever returned. The only place the Community went that was outside of the city limits was the Farm.

The Farm was a huge compound on a stretch of farmland where an actual family had taken up residence. They had well stocked food storage, thriving gardens, and hoards of livestock. It was also protected under a massive security system. The family who lived on the Farm had come into the city not realizing it was occupied. When they found the Community and what you had to offer, they made a deal . They would exchange fresh fruits and vegetables, and eggs and meat from the livestock where they could spare it for fresh water which was the only thing they couldn’t seem to get steady access to. So twice a month the Community would send a group to collect the food supplies and drop off a water truck with a full tank.

Once the group had settled down after Chanyeol’s announcement there were still a few topics to discuss before the meeting was over. The end of the meeting really only meant that it was time for the group to break off into smaller cliques for further discussions and gossip.

“What if they don’t accept the water after the rain? That was a long stretch, they may not need it. What are we going to do without food?” You heard Sehun say as everyone talked over one another.

You’d actually been pretty interested in listening in on that conversation but Chanyeol had sat down beside you. “You were late.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Yeol.” you looked up at him with your most convincingly innocent smile which only made him laugh.

“You know I worry. And worse, you know I had to hear about it endlessly from Baek.” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding you pulled one of the suckers from your jacket pocket and offered it to him. “I got caught up and lost track of time. I’m sorry I made you worry. Forgive me?”

He already had the sucker unwrapped and stuck in his cheek when he nodded, “Forgiven. Just don’t be late back home. I don’t need you getting locked out.”

He patted the top of your head as he stood and you watched him take off. Seulgi who was talking in a group a little ways away saw him leaving and ditched her friends to chase after him. You frowned as you watched. It had turned out that they hadn’t been dating before the invasion like you thought. They’d definitely shared some pretty deep feelings for each other, but neither one had the nerve to make any moves. The invasion and imminent threat of death had apparently been the kick in the ass they’d needed to confess their feelings to each other. Still, of everything that had happened over the last few years the one thing you couldn't wrap your head around was people getting attached to each other. You just couldn’t understand falling in love.

Over the last three years the Community had lost so many people from death and disappearance. You had lost so many people. All your friends and family from before the first wave were just gone. Any family and all of your other friends. They were all dead as far as you knew. You would never get to say goodbye, never get to tell them how much you loved them. The hardest out of all of them to get over was Siwon. Things weren’t always perfect between the two of you but you’d been together for five years. As far as you had been concerned he’d been it for you. You’d been ready to spend the rest of your life with him, if he’d ever gotten the chance to ask you to. You’d imagined a future with him, buying a house and starting a family. Then in one day you had it all ripped away from you and the pain of it had been unbearable. You didn’t have a future, you didn’t have love. You didn’t even want it anymore. All you had and all you needed was to survive.

You couldn’t see the appeal of falling in love with someone who could be torn from you at any moment. Or intentionally putting yourself through the eventual pain of loss. You didn’t even like that you had to worry about losing Seulgi. The chance of risk versus the low reward just didn’t seem worth it to you. However, Seulgi was happy and as much as you didn’t understand giving your love to anyone anymore, you were happy for her. She was happy. She had a reason to keep going, and that’s all you could really ask for her or anyone else for that matter.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulder you waved goodbye to the others that were left and took off back up the stairs alone. Outside of the amphitheater you saw Hyunwoo chatting with Hanbin and Baekho, while Taemin and Jongin waited nearby. When he saw you Hyunwoo smiled and said something to the others before hurrying over to where you had been walking.

“Hey,” he said, catching up to you.

“Hi.” you grinned.

“Hold up a second, I have something for you.” he said, grabbing your elbow.

You stopped walking and turned towards him, “For me? Why?”

“You know why.” he smirked. He moved closer to you so there was hardly any space between your bodies. One of his hands reached into his jacket and he pulled out a small, square, gold box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. “I know you didn’t want a big deal made out of your birthday, but I had to at least get you something.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” you assured him, turning the box over in your hands.

“Fine. I wanted to get you something.” he corrected, “Will you just open it?”

You tugged the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid. A tiny gasp escaped your mouth at the sight in front of you. “Hyunwoo…”

“It’s expired, but only by a few months.”

Your eyes had filled with tears so quickly you couldn’t stop the single tear from slipping down your cheek. “It’s so beautiful. I love it. Thank you so much.”

He grinned as you pulled the chocolate bar from the box. “Don’t share it with anyone, okay?”

“Oh don’t worry, I will not be sharing with anyone. Not even you so don’t ask.” you laughed and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Thank you so much. Seriously, it means the world that you would give this to me.”

“You mean the world to me.” he said quietly squeezing you back, and then he pulled away, “To us. You mean the world to all of us. You’re always doing so much for the whole Community, my two idiots especially.”

You were grateful for the excuse to look away from him, to look over at Taemin and Jongin as your cheeks burned with a blush. “It’s nothing. You know I love them.”

“Alright.” he cleared his throat and looked over at the still waiting Taemin, Jongin duo. “Get home safe tonight. I have to get the kids home for dinner.”

“You be safe too Hyunwoo, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tucking your gift into the pocket of your backpack you smiled to yourself. Maybe...maybe you could see yourself with someone like Hyunwoo. You’d seen him in action, you knew he could handle himself well in a fight. He didn’t need to be protected or taken care of. You wouldn’t need to feel responsible for him all the time or to worry about him too much. Plus he was a sweetheart and absolutely gorgeous, which never hurt.

“What was that about?”

Pulled from the thought you looked up to see Baekhyun. He was sitting on a short, brick wall. His feet dangled from side to side as he chewed anxiously on his thumbnail.

“What was what about?” you asked as he hopped off the wall and fell in line with you as you walked.

“Whatever just happened between you and Hyunwoo.” He was trying to be casual about the conversation but you could feel the energy vibrating off of him.

You sighed, “Nothing, Baek. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you guys like together? You never said anything. Are you going to leave us? Are you going to stay with his family now? It’s just guys over there, you know? What about Seulgi? Does she know? She’ll be really upset.” he rambled nervously.

“No, Baek,” you chuckled, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not dating anyone.”

“What did he say? It looked like he gave you something. What were you hugging him for?”

“Baekhyun!” You growled looking over at him with wide eyes, “Breathe. Calm down. Christ.”

He did as he was told and shut his mouth. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m chill. You still didn’t answer any of my questions.”

“Well you asked about twenty all at once…” you said sarcastically and looked over at him and his big sad eyes. “Fine.”

Pulling your backpack around to your chest you pulled the chocolate bar from your bag and handed it over to him. He grabbed the candy and flipped it over in his hands.

“Shit. This is like ...European chocolate.” he said in awe, “This is the good shit. I haven’t seen stuff this nice in…”

“Months.” you said quietly.

“At least.” He handed the bar back to you, “God, what did he do? Ask you to marry him with that thing?”

You laughed as you put it back in the bag and then swung the bag back over your shoulders. “No. It was just a gift.”

“A gift? What for?” he asked, kicking a chunk of cement off the sidewalk.

Baekhyun wasn’t going to let it go. You’d spent enough time with him to know that about him. Taking a quick look around the street to make sure there was no one nearby you said as quietly as you could manage without whispering. “It’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday?” he shouted, his voice echoing against the towering buildings that surrounded.

“Shhh.” you hissed.

“Why? It’s really your birthday?” He asked looking wounded, “You didn’t say anything.”

“It’s not a big deal, I don’t want anyone to know. So please...just shut up about it.”

“Hyunwoo knew. Did you tell him?”

You groaned, “Yes, but it had been by accident. He wasn’t supposed to find out.”

Still he looked upset, “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I would have gotten you something.”

You rolled your eyes subtly. “It’s fine, Baek. I swear it’s fine. I didn’t want anything, that’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”

“No, I should have known already. I should have remembered from before.”

“I’m honestly glad you didn’t.”

“I just wish there was time for me to find you a good gift. I feel like a real jerk.” He sighed, “And Hyunwoo got you chocolate? Damn.”

“I promise you, it’s okay.” You assured him once more as he trudged dramatically down the sidewalk beside you.

Suddenly he lit up with a smile, “What about a joke? Can I tell you a joke? Have you had a really good laugh today?”

You grinned. Secretly you’d become pretty fond of his daily jokes. “That sounds like the perfect gift.”

“Okay…” you watched as his face turned quite serious while he thought of the best joke. “Got it. What do you call bees that produce milk?”

“I don’t know. What do you call them?” You couldn’t help your half smile at the fact that he was already chuckling at his own joke.

“Boo-BEES.” He said with the biggest, cheesiest smile.

The laugh came even if the joke was terrible. A real shoulder shaking, teeth out laugh.

“Oh my god, I hate you so much.” You continued laughing and he just smiled back at you.

“Good. I love you too.” He said, the same way he always did when you told him you hated him. “Happy birthday, Y/n.”

You blushed, the tiniest of blushes. “Thanks, Baek.”

“You’re welcome.” He sighed happily. Pleased, you assumed, that his joke had gone over so well. After that the rest of the walk back was comfortably quiet.

Cordially was a club downtown, or it had been before the invasion. It had been made wildly popular by its exclusivity. It was the only by-invitation-only club you knew of. They would hand deliver invitations every week. White cardstock with red embossment that red simply, ‘You are cordially invited”. Then on the back it either said Friday or Saturday to indicate what day your invitation was for. For a monetary fee an invitee could bring up to ten plus ones. The add-ons were where they really made their money. That and of course the alcohol.

The building was on the corner of tenth and main, which was the most popular area for high end restaurants and bars. It was a two story building that had been built originally for use as a concert hall. It had housed operas, plays, and musicals. Then it had shut down for a couple of years and came back renovated into a burlesque club. After that it became a venue for punk shows. For awhile after that it was a gay bar that played venue to drag shows. And in its final form it was Cordially.

Immediately upon walking into the building occupants would find themselves in what appeared to be one big empty hall. On one side of the empty, dust covered hardwood floor there was a short hallway that led to two restrooms and an office. The big empty space had previously been the dance floor. Along the back wall was a bar and on the other side of the dance floor, opposite the restrooms, was a staircase. Upstairs was a horseshoe balcony. There were two more restrooms, a half bar, and private alcoves that had been reserved for vip invitees who’d paid major money for the privilege. None of that was why the Cordially was so important to you. It was important because, technically, its final form was home.

“Honey I’m home!” Baekhyun shouted as you walked in through the main entrance. “Oh, I forgot...I don’t have a Honey.”

“Is everyone else here?” you asked, ignoring his comment, as you looked outside one last time as the sun set on your birthday.

He looked over at the dusty bar top where five shot glasses had been placed. Three were upside down, two were still rightside up. “Yep. everyone is accounted for.”

With a sigh you let the door close while you grabbed the two by four leaning against the wall. You slide the wood through the door handles, and secured the locks at the top and the bottom of the door, and as a last step unhooked the blackout curtains Chanyeol had installed. The room was still lit with the orange glow of sun through windows that lined the second floor. Moving passed the bar as he whistled a tune, Baekhyun flipped over the remaining two shot glasses. He stopped at the door on the farside of the bar and held it open as he waited for you.

“Thanks.” you said quietly before moving passed him and making your way downstairs to the dark basement.

“Anything for the birthday girl…” he muttered to himself as he shut and secured the door.

“Uh...Baek.” you said stepping cautiously down into the unusually pitch black room. “I thought you said everyone was here?”

“The glasses were flipped. Is there no one down there?” he asked as you felt him step behind you.

“No, everything is off and I can‘t see shit.” you complained, searching your pockets for your flashlight.

“Huh...so weird.” Baekhyun said flicking on his flashlight and illuminating the wall switch. “Hit the lights.”

Flipping the switch up illuminated the bright, white christmas lights that had been strung all across the basement ceiling. The room had also been decorated with streamers and balloons. Chanyeol, Seulgi, and Irene all stood in the center of the room sporting paper party hats and cheerful smiles. They’d been popping poppers and shouting happy birthday, but you could barely register it through your haze of emotion.

Baekhyun had come around you and put a cheap, cheesy sash that said Birthday Princess over your head along with a tiara on top of it. Chanyeol lit candles that had been stuck into the top of a stack of just-add water pancakes that had rainbow sprinkles mixed in. After a moment of genuine shock you realized they’d been singing the birthday song to you and were now waiting for you to make your wish.

I wish I was this happy all the time. You thought to yourself before blowing out the candles.

“I-” you chuckled lightly, “I’m speechless.”

“Do you love it?” Irene asked hopefully, “I know you don’t like to make a big fuss about this kind of stuff. I worried it would be too much.”

“Oh, no! I love it! Thank you,” you said giving her a hug and then giving one to Seulgi too, “I don’t deserve all this.”

“That’s not true.” Chanyeol said wrapping you in a tight hug before guiding you over to the couch where a large pile of gifts were waiting. “You deserve more.”

“Do you like your cake?” Seulgi asked, sitting down on the cushion next to you. “Isn’t it cute?”

You smiled reassuringly, “I really love everything. I swear. It’s perfect.”

“I made it, the cake, but it was Baek’s idea.” When you looked over at him he was leaning against one of the surveillance desks. His cheeks were a little flush as he smiled over at you. “It was actually all his idea. He did most of the planning and the work, but we all helped out a little here and there.”

“You really thought I forgot, didn’t you?” he asked, looking so proud of himself. It was only then you realized he’d been the one that had remembered the last two years. Of course it had all been a show. Baekhyun didn’t forget anything. “Oh man, I really got you so good.”

“Open my present first! It’s the best one!” Irene said with a grin as she shoved a flat, wrapped box into your lap.

After you opened it you laughed immediately and then pulled the diamond chandelier necklace from the box. It had been a running joke between the two of you over the past few years. Whenever a gift giving holiday rolled around the two of you exchanged frivolous gifts. Grossly expensive things that were useless at the end of the world.

“I...It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to have some fantastic event to wear this to. Thank you, Irene.” you grinned.

“I got it at that jewelry store on third street if you want to return it. The receipts at the bottom of the box.” she smirked, “But you should know it was twenty thousand dollars, and I think it’s going to look fantastic on you. You should wear it every day because every day we’re alive is a fantastic event.”

Seulgi’s gift was next. She dragged over a tall box that was wrapped up to look like a gift bag, and that was clearly very heavy. When you pulled the tissue paper from the top of the box you revealed no less than thirty bottles of your favorite shampoo.

“So,” she started, “I have spent the last six months during scavenges looking for this shampoo. I took every bottle from every store in the city that had any. Cherish them, they are probably the last bottles we will ever lay eyes on.”

“I love you, Seul.” you said as you wiped your cheek of it’s tears.

“Love you too, bestie.” She said squeezing you tight, feeling quite pleased.

“Alright, that’s enough of the lame gifts.” Chanyeol said, reaching over Seulgi’s lap to hand you his gift. “I hope you’re ready for a real gift, Y/n. Something actually useful and still very fun.”

“Shampoo is useful!” Seulgi said, pinching his arm, “Dick.”

You laughed at the two of them as they bickered and unwrapped his gift. It really did take your breath away when you opened the package. “Yeol...oh my god.”

“You know I don’t know anything about knives.” he said as you pulled one of the shiny silver blades from its sheath. “Sehun helped me. He promised they were the best knives in the whole city. He said you’d really love them.”

“They’re so beautiful, Yeol. Really, I’m...I’m so happy.” you sniffled as you tucked the knives back in the box, “I can’t even tell you how much I’m looking forward to being able to use them.”

“And!” Irene said enthusiastically, “We’re all giving up our wash time tonight, so it’s all yours.”

Cordially was one of the buildings in the city that still offered running water. The problem was that it was such an old building that too much use throughout the day caused the ancient pipes to groan and when they did it was less than quiet. The five of you learned early on that there was a certain length of time that the water could be used after dark without attracting Lurkers with the noise. That time was divided and a bit of time was allotted to each of you for any night time activities like cleaning up after a long day or even using the toilet.

“No.” you argued, “That’s too much.”

“Yes!” Seulgi said, shooting you a terrifying glare, “Take extra care with the shampoo I worked so hard to get you. Rinse and repeat, for once.”

“It really is too much.” you groaned.

“Just let me know before you want to go, Y/n.” Baekhyun said, and you realized he’d been unusually quiet this whole time. “There’s just one more surprise.”

The group refused to listen to your complaints about wash time so you let it go. Instead you all indulged in your pancake cake and talked about your days. After a couple hours had passed you had to switch from the beautiful lights overhead to your regular LED lanterns so that Chanyeol could turn the computers and surveillance equipment back on for nightly security checks.

Together Chanyeol and you checked the reports from other cities and the surveillance outside of your building as well as the water storage. After your first yawn hit you mentioned wanting to clean up and get to bed soon at which point Baekhyun disappeared upstairs for sometime. You’d been ready to give up on him and crash for the night without even washing when he finally showed up. You grabbed one of your new shampoos, a towel and pajamas before following him quietly upstairs with your lantern in hand.

In the beginning you’d refused to leave the basement at night. The sight of the dark open dance hall creeped you out and you were always worried that there would be something hiding in the shadows. Ironically, it had been Baekhyun that had helped you out of your fear. You’d gotten into a pretty good system of making sure you’d done everything you needed to before the sun went down. It worked out really well for you at first.

That was until you, and everyone else, started to realize that things were changing. With every month that passed you realized that the invasion was having a lasting effect on weather patterns. Even now, after three years, they were unpredictable. Winter had come fast that first year. Sunlight was sparse, nights were seemingly endless. Some nights lasting literal days, as if the invaders were trying to force people out into the night to search for food and water, leaving them open and vulnerable for attack.

It was one of those long winter nights that Baekhyun realized how uncomfortable you looked. He’d laughed at first when you told him you had to pee, but when he noticed the genuine fear on your face when he suggested you just go upstairs he stopped. You’d been so embarrassed, it felt silly that of all the things left to be afraid of, that the dark was what paralzyed you. Then he offered to take you whenever you needed and promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about your fear. That winter night lasted eleven days and every time you had to go to the bathroom or wanted to wash up, Baekhyun was there to take you. He’d check all the shadows and stand outside the bathroom until you were ready to go back down. Even if you shook him out of a dead sleep you never heard a complaint.

It had been a long time since you’d needed someone to help you in the dark. On several occasions you’d even gone on scavenges at night. Like for the past four weeks when it rained all day everyday. There had been no sun but you also had no choice, your family needed food. So it seemed silly to you that he had offered to take you upstairs now. In front of the upstairs womens restroom Baekhyun stopped and held out his hand, “Lantern please.”

“I’m going to need it, Baek…” you whispered back knowing fully well the solar powered electricity that Chanyeol had set up didn’t run upstairs.

“Your lantern.” he requested once more, quietly, but sternly. With a deep sigh you handed him your lantern and he smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

He knelt down putting your lantern on the ground and picking up a container you hadn’t noticed before. Standing back up straight, he offered you the container.

“My gift to you.”

“You’ve already done enough.” you said taking the container, “Your stupid joke was more than enough for me.”

“Then this will just be the cherry on top.” he grinned, “Open it.”

You pulled open the lid of the container to find actual cherries. Cherries, strawberries, and blueberries to be exact. “How? I thought we were out of fresh food until the Farm trip?”

“I’ve been stockpiling my portions for you.”

“No, absolutely not. I can‘t accept this, Baekhyun.” you said shoving the container back towards him.

“You have to. I won’t eat it. I’ll let it all go to waste.” he shook his head defiantly, and you knew he was telling the truth. “It’s yours now.”

“Here,” Pulling open the lid once more you searched for the biggest piece of fruit you saw. You held the strawberry up to his lips. “Just eat one. I won’t be the reason your dumbass gets scurvy.”

He smiled happily, “Okay.”

You moved the fruit closer to his mouth and watched him wrap his lips gently around the fruit, you gulped at the sight but he didn’t seem to notice. “Do I get my lantern now?”

He shook his head as he chewed and swallowed down the berry, “Just go in, you won’t need it. I’ll wait out here on guard, You can have your lantern after.”

You looked at him suspiciously before turning to the door. With your fruit and your shampoo in hand you pushed the door open. You inhaled sharply at the sight. The entire makeshift shower room had been covered in candles and wildflowers. It was the most beautiful display you could ever remember seeing in your life.

“Baekhyun…” you whispered his name, not really knowing what else to say.

When you turned back to him he was smiling from ear to ear and he asked very hopefully, “Better than chocolate?”

You may have rolled your eyes but your smile and bright glow said everything he needed to hear, “I hate you.”

“Ah,” he blushed, “I love you too.”

#byun baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenario #exo scenario #kpop scenario #TEOTFW #do we hate this? I feel like maybe we hate this.

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years

Text

genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff

warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms

w.count: 5.4k

summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier! That is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night.

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13]

a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh)

“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment. You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.

Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul. “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out. Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.

It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul. But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof. It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.

You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap. You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing. Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school. It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be. Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were. Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more.

“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes. “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around. Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening. Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.

It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes. Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well. Dance history and theory for example. Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must.

Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds. Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates. Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student.

You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped. You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.

You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.

As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years.

As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare. You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality. Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about.

You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares.

When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him. Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head. He smiled, waving at you.

“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years. Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding.

“Makes since though. This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat. “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.

“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void. Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.

“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed. He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand. He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away. You looked back to your lap and let out a breath. You smiled. If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.

Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner.

At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you. Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students. Some familiar, some not. He just smiled at them all as a group.

“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him. “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that. If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors. “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.”

You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against. You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age. Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories!

However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you. One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.

Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career.

Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie.

It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes. You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it.

You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule. He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad. Rules be damned.

You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor.

Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s.

Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it. Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead.

You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos. All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.

“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes. You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.

“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not.

“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm. “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.”

“You’re walking with me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.

“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you. You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class. Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could.

You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.

“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes? Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.” Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job. It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet. You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows. She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no.

“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there. “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.

“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do. Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled. She ran to you behind the counter. Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.

You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours. You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you. Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.

He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand.

“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock. He cringed as you addressed him so formally. Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested. You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.

“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered. “Just call me by name,” he told you. Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was. He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine. “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.”

“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint. “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going.

You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape. “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.”

“But of course,” your boss mused. “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood.

“It was good seeing you-”

“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart.

“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago. “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true. The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby. Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift. “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel.

“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.”

Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk. You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend. It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back.

“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused.

“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep.

“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused. You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to. He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off.

Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching. He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.

You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes. Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness. A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.

You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return. Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing.

This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time. In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.

You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely. When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out.

Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.

His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you.

“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio.

Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour. How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.

A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.

You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door. You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression.

“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure. Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room.

“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness. “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out. I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel. We just have to tough it out for one night.”

He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders. He could understand though. You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits. Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him. You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead. Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover.

However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous. It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either. It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious.

The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties. You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous. The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.

“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck. “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.”

“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.

Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you. He cleared his throat. “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results.

“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation.

“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile. You cracked a smile back to him finally.

“That’s-”

The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window. The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle. The instructor whistled.

“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms. “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap. You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll.

It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you. He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him. He offers it to you, hoping to ease you. You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head.

“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.”

“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite. “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.”

Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning. Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least.

He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.

“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back. You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled. “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position.

“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing. He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist. Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks.

He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance. You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.

What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again.

Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible. He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip. He showed you how to dance certain parts as you mirrored him.

You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing. You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter.

The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am. Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.

“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face. He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look away now. “Hoseok?”

He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush. “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them. “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?”

You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin. You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.

“I- uh, huh?”

“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.”

“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him. He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything.

“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up. You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.

“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished. Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.

“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep. We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.

How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.

~END~

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krisanderwrites · 3 years

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Malachite and Sparrow 02

My second summer there was a mix up in the paperwork and I had to vacate the dorms for two weeks until it was sorted out. None of my classmates lived close enough to make couch surfing a viable option, so I eventually swallowed my apprehension and called my mother. Although I attempted to keep the conversation short, she was elated to hear that I would be coming home this year. When I finally hung up, I knew that there was no way Malachite had not overheard my given name. Of course she was considerate enough to not mention it.

The long trip home was peppered with anxiety attacks and countless worries. By the time I finally arrived in the airport, I was exhausted. Thankfully that gave me the excuse to ignore the way my parents did not recognize me until after a second glance. They shuffled me into the car, berating my tardiness and how it was messing with my sister's schedule since she had an important meeting. Everything felt dull and far away, much worse than my depression ever was while at college.

I took it easy, as much as someone going to Elsewhere University can on break. Unable to break the habit of watching every word I uttered, I found solace in furthering my research online and at the local library. I cleaned out my old room, throwing away most of the things I had no use for anymore. I visited my great-aunt Hazel in her nursing home. When she pressed a plastic bag full of small boxes into my hands, I gave her a strange look.

"For exchanges," she said, smiling. Opening one, I found a kitschy set of matching topaz earrings and necklace. Realizing the gift, I gave a small gasp. She would not accept me doing anything for her in exchange, simply saying that she had no use for all of them anyway. I still have no clue how she knew about the Gentry. However, she had certainly given me ideas.

I began to talk to my sister and mother, telling them about Malachite's love of jewelry of all kinds- how she even made her own on occasion. In response, they gave me all of their old things that they no longer wanted to pass along to her. A few of my cousins even dropped off their old mismatched earrings and pendants and charm bracelets. I went to the nursery and picked up seeds of plants I had not been able to get my hands on while on campus. In the back of my closet I found my old fighting gear and packed it into an old gym bag my brother was going to throw out.

To make sure there were no debts I mowed lawns, weeded gardens, cleaned out gutters, scrubbed bathrooms, and bathed dogs. Each present got a chore in payment. Money exchanged hands as well, but I tried to reserve as much of that as possible for more important things than trinkets to trade. In the end I left with two more bags than I had come back with, full of all sorts of helpful things. I think somehow I knew even then that I was never really coming back.

"You know... you really have changed," my mother remarked as she dropped me off at the airport.

My mouth was dry, "Yeah, I think I have too."

"I'm not sure it is for the better," she snidely added.

"Well, I do," I shrugged and grabbed the last bag out of the trunk.

She seemed uneasy, "I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yep," I said.

"Will you at least call?" she asked.

"Probably not," I answered, not even attempting to stretch the truth. "I think we both have very different ideas about who I am, and it would probably just hurt more."

There were tears in her eyes when she laughed, "You really have changed. I will wish you luck, then. Don't worry about your father; he already knows. He's considered you dead for at least six months now."

"That does explain the lack of conversation," I had quipped. "Well, I have to somehow get through security with all this."

I walked away without looking back even once. Somehow it felt like I was shedding my old skin. I checked my bags and got onto the plane with no troubles. Smooth sailing for the Captain. The feeling of overall sluggishness left upon entering campus again. Dropped off in front of the dorm building with my bags, I was delighted to see a greeting party of crows waiting for me. They were rewarded with the best sugar cookies my hometown had to offer. Overall it felt more like coming home than visiting my family ever had.

* * * *

Settling back down into a dorm room felt strange knowing that it was going to be just me on my own again. I planted all the seeds I had bought in trays that I placed upon the windowsill. I sorted through all the jewelry I had amassed and threw away the unnecessary packaging; it still filled most of a duffel bag. My old fighting gear was relegated to the back of yet another closet; I could not bear to throw it away but for now it served no purpose. Perhaps I could find a new group to practice with on campus later. I took a part-time job at a local veterinary clinic to help expand my knowledge and experience.

To be truthful, everything was just a distraction until Malachite returned. Without her nearby I felt the pull of the Else at my veins. Sometimes I would stare out at the forest with a longing- an urge- to simply walk among the trees and then keep walking. Realistically I knew that this was a terrible idea, but it was true all the same. The Fair Folk were more numerous on campus as autumn drew closer, all eagerly anticipating the return of the students as much as I was.

With no small amount of glee, I showed off my acquisitions to Malachite. She stared, wide-eyed, and asked what in the world I was planning on doing with all of that jewelry. I laughed her off, claiming that I was just going to save it all for a rainy day. It was mostly true. (I was something of a zombie-survival plan person anyway.) I did not tell her that my intuition said that there were storms coming.

Still, things continued on much as normal for quite some time, if perhaps a bit busier. I gave presents to Jimothy- as many beads as my cousins had managed to trade for me doing their chores. Clients at the veterinary clinic occasionally brought me gifts for helping to care for their animals, which I in turn gifted to fae or other students. My study group commandeered a room in the library where the time distortion was not too terrible. I set a broken wing for one crow and stemmed the bleeding broken beak of another.

Sometimes I attended parties just to escort people back to their dorms safely. Ever curious, I worked endlessly on ideas and inventions that I never intended to see the light of day. After all, knowledge of how to heal and soothe comes only after knowledge of how to hurt and break. The contraptions piled in my closet next to my unused fighting gear.

It took some time for me to realize that Malachite had plans of her own.

By helping others and trading in offerings of homemade bread or sweets for crystals and gemstones, she had amassed quite a literal treasure trove. Taking these precious finds, she then created jewelry from them. Homemade trinkets are always worth more to the fae than ones that you buy in a store. As I watched her collection grow, I suddenly understood her concerns with my own hoard.

Then one day I walked in during a break from classes and realized something had happened. Malachite was burning sage in the room which showed evidence of a recent bout of furious cleaning. When pressed, she simply said that the salt lines had been worn away over time and needed replacing. The fearful glances to the corner of the room, however, spoke a different story.

I decided that though my hands were often burned with silver nitrate (so useful in stopping small bleeds), perhaps having the Sight was something I should keep around more often. Just in case. I began wearing a mood ring on my middle finger. It immediately turned to black and then remained that color whenever I wore it. I tried not to feel anxious about this and failed miserably.

* * * *

Right at midterms there was a brief flurry of activity before things settled down again. Hardly anyone got taken over midterms that year, as there were several days that were designated safe due to the school fair. Then there was a night where all the signs were there for A Hunt. There was a new moon and strange yelling that could be mistaken for baying. Everyone kept to their dorm rooms and locked the entrances.

What came knocking at our door was our new RA, who was a nice enough woman studying business and law.

"Captain," she had said.

I had tilted my head and informed her that was not my official nickname.

"No," she laughed, "but it suits you well. You're already rather well known as a Knight." Something about that title rang true in my bones and I had to suppress a shiver as she continued, "Anyway, there is a bit of a situation. They are asking for you to come out and see to one of their hounds."

"What they?" Malachite had demanded.

"You know, the Fair Folk," she explained.

"Absolutely not."

Blinking, we both turned to the side. Malachite pushed forward to stand in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"I'm not letting Sparrow take one step outside on a night of A Hunt. Even if it were not suicide, the chances of being stolen are far too great."

I laughed, "All my new surgical tools are made of steel. I doubt any of Them would want me."

Despite her protests, we both ended up following the RA to the threshold of the dorm hall. Standing there was a perfectly respectable attempt at a humanoid form, albeit with an extra limb or two. At least they were trying. The hound itself was, as typical, an eldritch abomination that could possibly be construed as canine if you were on LSD and also only had ever known dogs from the story of The Hound of the Baskervilles. However, the long, hungry glances the Good Neighbor kept sending towards Malachite were disconcerting.

"I will heal, for that is what is right," I offered readily, "but should you attempt to take or harm my companions, I will fight, as that is also right. Do we have an understanding here?"

The hissing reply was not pleased-sounding, but not being attacked outright was a good sign. When finally it nodded petulantly, I stepped forward to the heaving mass on the grass and kneeled down. Luckily it turned out to be a small favor. The monster had thorns in its hide from a hawthorn tree dipped in iron. Snarling at the wicked items, I palmed them with the thought to destroy it later by fire. A small salve applied to the wounded areas and the Hunt was once again ready to leave.

"Freely given," I said as they vanished into the mists.

"You're foolish," noted the RA. "You should have asked for something."

"Asking for payment is more foolish than being a good person," I replied. "All my aid is freely given, and I won't charge the Gentry any more than the crows. I am a healer, after all."

"Talk softly, treat others kindly, and carry a big damn stick," supplied Malachite.

"Exactly," I smiled as I closed my fist around the iron-tipped thorns.

* * * *

The hungry eyes of the Gentry were long forgotten as time slipped past. There was too much to do and too many who needed aiding for paranoia to set in fully. It did not catch my attention at the time that my plants were starting to grow a little too well or my newly acquired pet fish seemed more colorful than was natural. I did not notice when I began to avoid eating my food with excess salt.

No, my first sign that something was terribly wrong was an itching, sore rash across the back of my neck.

It took some time, but eventually we figured out the trusty iron chain that our talisman rested upon was causing the problem. For a few days, neither of us spoke about it. Suddenly developing an allergy to iron was greatly concerning. And telling. We both knew what it meant, despite trying to ignore it.

Slowly, things began to change. The salt lines in the doorways and windows became complex symbols and runes. The gemstone satchels somehow migrated away from my side of the room. I began to take my coffee with creamer and sugar, despite always having had it black before.

"Fae-touched," someone told us when they noted me sitting on the grass to avoid the iron bench. "Not quite a Changeling, but not entirely human either. You've gained a lot a favor with the Gentry. Or a lot of ire, I suppose."

"Don't listen to her," another student rolled their eyes. "Everyone knows Captain Sparrow's a knight and a healer. The Good Neighbors like you just where you are."

It explained a little, we supposed. My family was mixed, but both sides had come from areas steeped in tales of the Fair Folk. Those with links to the old countries always were a little more at risk. So we simply decided to take more care and discuss our options. And we agreed. Neither of us would leave for the Else without the other. We would remain together through thick and thin.

Thus our third year at Elsewhere University ended with us just as close as before.

#elsewhere university #elsewhere student #malachite and sparrow

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clouds-rambles · 3 years

Text

Selene’s Story

You know the cool story section of the character menu? Yeah that’s what this is

Don’t come at me for inaccurate science pls lmao

Feel free to ask questions!

Read under the cut!

Story 1

Selene was once a Knight of Favonius but after serving in the ranks for close to a decade she decided that it was time to pursue their childhood dream of exploring the world. While she may have only just made it to Liyue in the last year, they have been on the road for over two years the first half of which was spent mainly exploring Mondstadt before she decided it was time to move onto exploring the next country.

Story 2

Selene has dreamt of grandeur for most of her life, bedtime stories were often about exploring the world at their feet. Selene’s father told young Selene many stories about different adventures, some that he may have taken before they were born. Selene’s father was what triggered the want for exploration, Selene’s mother fuelled the fires while Selene was a child. Selene’s mother was an adventurer that would often spend months at a time away from the Mondstadt home. And while their mother never took them on the trips she still would tell a young Selene all about the interesting things she found on her adventure, and if Selene was especially lucky they would be gifted small trinkets and fruits from lands far away.

Selene longed to be like her mother in many senses... well apart from one

Story 3

Just as Selene first joined the Knights of Favonius they found out a concerning set of news’ about her mother. She had left a week before Selene’s knight try outs and not three days after Selene had become an official knight both her and her father received letters. Through all these years that Selene had looked up to their mother, she had actually been creating a family Fontaine and had finally decided to pick between which family she cared for more... Selene just didn’t make the cut. Selene’s mother has tried reaching out to them since then through letters, but, the letters were even returned to the sender, or thrown onto the fire without even a reading. Maybe she wants to reconcile with Selene, but she lost that opportunity when Selene became second choice.

Selene was rather close to her father in comparison to their mother. Especially considering her mother would go away for months, sometimes years at a time. Their father was always there for her, a fact that Selene came to realise a little after his death. One of the memories that stick in her mind, considering it’s one of the last ones of them and their father. Was at knight try outs, her father was cheering them on from the side-lines, a grin on his face. Maybe he was living a little vicariously through her, but Selene never minded that. The support is what she always loved from him

Shortly after his death was when Selene started contemplating leaving Mondstadt, but she didn’t leave for another three years

Story 4

The traveller lifestyle has in no means been easy for Selene, they often find themselves longing for the comfort of a soft bed in comparison to their hard bedroll. Sometimes she’ll just save up some mora on the side-lines just to have a comfortable night in at an inn. Though on the subject of mora, most of Selene’s income is made through finding various treasure chests through the world, but also selling things like game and veg. Selene has learnt over the past couple years how to haggle in the best, most legal, way possible to get the best price on her produce. Mora often goes to supplies that Selene can’t easily find in the wild, ie- salt, pepper, cured meats and jams, but on the occasion they’ll use their money to have a comfy sleep

Vision

The night Selene left the Knights of Favonius was a rainy evening. Not in a melancholy sense, in a more new beginnings kind of sense. Selene had longed since childhood to pave their own fate and write the road she walks on. And the fated night cemented to Selene that he choice was a great idea. Celestia blessed Selene with a vision and the electro archon decided the element she was blessed with. Selene never looked back from the decision from then

Storms

Selene can sense electro in the air in general, people find it a little off putting but it’s basically impossible to sneak up on Selene. It’s hard for them to explain because they don’t fully understand it themselves but they think that they can sense peoples hearts, not the beats per say but the electricity that the heart gives off. The only person quiet enough to sneak up on Selene is Cael, and that’s probably thanks to the way he can just appear at random times.

However, during storms Selene can feel their senses heightened. They feel energised in storms, as if their elemental skill has filled up and ready to pop at any time. Through storms Selene can sense people in a different way, the air is hold a lot more charge in a storm whereas people do not. So to notice where people are they can sense where less electro charge is in the area. And from there she can find the heartbeat of the creature to figure out what, and sometimes who, they are

#genshin impact #genshin impact oc

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Ridikulus Pt 26

Four in the morning came with another rainy trip out to the quidditch pitch again with an odd peek into the nursery now with Teddy on his next to last night here as Tonks had taken up Remus’ offer to freshen up their home in Godric’s Hollow. After so long apart they wished for a night alone before she would bring Teddy home to their house next to Bill and Fleur’s so they could have more time to be used to being together again. His crib would be moved to their home leaving more room for Fin and Em. Surely the boys would want to spend more time at your home possibly leading to a possible solution. Mid workout you had thoughts to design their own room sort of like your Puff dorm, full beds built into alcoves in the walls with wardrobes and desks that they might enjoy over sharing a large bed since Em had her own space.

You knew they had their own nursery in Northern Greenwood in Glorfindel’s suite soon to be joined with the King’s through a sitting room a doorway would be carved into easing the growth of space to welcome you all comfortably into what would be your new home as a family. They hadn’t approached the topic of moving in together yet, though it had been mentioned in passing once, your thoughts on how his apartment had looked to see if you might want to redecorate.

Between laps you still tried to wrap your mind around the fact both men were wanting to be yours, both of whom now having four sons under their care. Now on top of Em you would have more children to add to your own daily lives that would be shifted to fit all of them. It was hard enough to figure out how your own days would go as you were trying to settle in the new state of this world while also settling into the reality you would have to shuffle Em in and out of Barty’s attention so she wouldn’t feel left behind or set apart from her younger siblings.

Finally you had grown centered enough to not feel like you had to find a man to fill in the gap you assumed you had missed out on romantically growing up due to the death trap your life was. Now it was just trying to settle with the fact that your blondes were soul mates of sorts and the fact you had to wait, die twice and watch your world burn to have to meet them. Things seemed to be going well and your nights were significantly less vision filled since reaching Rivendell, it just took some work not to swerve yourself out of things assuming the worst was coming around the corner.

Mid final round of pull ups your eyes shifted to Ginny seeing her own exhausted self pushing through things physically, always settling through as you had, physically to work out your aggressions or irritations. Fin was absolutely adored by her, there had been enough time for her to have processed the infidelity nearly a year back now, merely feeling the weight of the loss of her first love still while getting to know a wonderful soul mate who had been waiting for her all this time. The Elves were a bit odd to get used to, lovely people just differently cultured and socializing than you all had been. Slowly but surely he was coming out of his shell and was learning to slip into the group outings he had attended more comfortably. But on your way to shower before breakfast you could tell she might need a bit more of a workout to help her get through what seemed to be a rough day for her.

An hour to the workout and Ginny had woken remembering nothing more than a late night rainy night session of cards with Harry, his comforting way of seeing her through the summer after she had split with Dean. Not just as her former boyfriend and father to the baby she had lost, but her friend who knew subtle ways to help her out when you weren’t around. It wasn’t often when she couldn’t reach you, though as the youngest she did have the best spot to notice what the older teens couldn’t, just how tired you were, how hard things were, subtly missed signs that you weren’t okay and you needed someone to save you leading to her nudging Harry to realize it too. As she grew she wanted to be just as supportive as everyone had been to her but the sting of this new world did have her in a haze some times.

Shifts at the shop were going to help, starting up in the next week when the shop would be freshened up and the routine would do wonders in helping to keep her from shaking Haldir into just saying what he was thinking. She wouldn’t let him be the third guy not saying what he was thinking. It was obvious that there was so much he wanted to say. She just had to find the subtle way to get him to open up, the one way you seemed to find easily she was trying to learn and was getting better at. He just seemed to be a new sort of puzzle and clearly he liked her but the Elven way of things was really trying her patience on not tackling the stunning man in a fiery kiss just to get some oil on the gears of all this past another foot between them stroll through gardens or supervised visits.

Showering and a stop to visit Mum where she broke into a frantic bout of cleaning shooing everyone out of the house so she could fix what another kerfuffle had done to her kitchen. Chuckling in a path to head back to the Black Manor Percy was going to snatch up some time with Em and Fin on his day off to take up the chance to get the chance to spend the day playing after all the stress of the flue system.

Though on another stroll unwilling to go on a garden tour just yet, just another day where she would be treated as a Princess by the Elves she came into contact with. Truly her sibling relationship with you had somehow latched a title onto her whole family in connection to you that seemed to be aiding in the slow pace of her connection deepening with Haldir. Even Lindir had shown a reluctance to ease comfortably with Regulus at first until he somehow had caved the soufflé of a man into courting bliss welcoming him near daily to family meals when he’s available.

Being a Lady seemed to be hard enough as even Hermione had trouble being overly feminine, she could pull off respectable but even spending time with the Durins hearing about Dis especially Ginny was easing into knowing that Princesses could be strong and not be criticized or challenged for it. At least in that she could relax in not having to change from the strong woman her mother had shown for all of you to aspire to be. Some fresh air might be what she needed. The rain had stopped and looping between the puddles she strolled through the streets only to turn at the sight of the brothers who seemed to aim to give you a hard time. And turning out of their path she found herself right where she knew she’d eventually end up, where she always ends up on days she feels like this, right back at the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow.

Standing between the twin headstones that stabbed the deepest in the sea of tokens and mementos to honor those lost and left behind until the full memorial would be set up once the design suggestions would be weighed and voted upon. A subtle wave of her hand and a set of crystal flowers she left at each of the headstones with words to each of the relatives eventually losing her train of thought sharing more about Fin in his first days.

All night the Feanoreans, once again lost to their curiosity about your people to get better pictures of who you were, they had found the enchanted pathways and stared through the one marked Pumpernickel with narrowed eyes wondering what the odd word meant. When the rains had ceased the returned Lords led the way through the archway. After a glance around ensuring the Dragons were not loose and with sight of a few milling Elves exploring themselves they followed the path eyeing the various homes along the way until they came across a small set of cottages.

There behind a ruined and graffitied cottage they spied the fenced in courtyard filled with floating orbs in linked spirals containing glowing images of the faces of those that had been survived by your fleeing people above each of the worn gravestones in varying shapes. For a moment however Elrond froze at the symbol on the Peverell headstone parting his lips as he recalled it as Namo’s mark instantly reminding him of your ring. In the distance Elros led the path to the familiar red head in the distance rising from her knees at the base of the most unusual statue, at least from his position at the side of it.

Behind him Maglor flicked aside the vines covering the plaques below each statue he passed unable to read the markings on each while Caranthir and Clegorm stopped to each pick up one of the scattered notes only to eye them unable to read what they said in the Common Tongue. Curufin behind them raised a curious looking stuffed whale, their attentions to the items brought the stern glare from Ginny straight on them making Maedhros freeze in place as she called out, “Do your people not have rules against disturbing grave sights?” Instantly the men froze and gingerly set the trinkets and tokens back.

Elros raised his hand from a string of vines on her turn watching them approach her eyeing the statue behind her, “We were not aware what these lands were.”

Elrond tilted his head inspecting the statue behind her asking, “We did not intend on interrupting your mourning.”

Ginny drew in a breath, “I was leaving flowers for Jaqi’s Mother, they always say they will, but they can rarely stand to visit.”

Amrod, “She cannot visit her own Mother’s grave?”

Ginny raised her arm pointing at the crumbling cottage coated in notes they had all inspected in their trip inside, “That cottage is where Jaqi apperated to after watching her Mother be tortured to death. Where she watched her Aunt Lily and Uncle James get killed by Riddle before he tried to kill her and her Cousin Harry in his crib.” Her arm moved to the one next to it, “That cottage is where she lived before Sirius sent them into hiding, she hasn’t been able to go inside of it since then. My Mum had to help her Uncle Regulus pack it.”

Their lips parted and they eyed the statues again, Amras asked, “That is her Mother’s grave?”

Ginny turned guiding them to the statue of the couple holding baby Harry in their arms with their birth and death dates under their names at the base, with Harry’s having two death dates, “This is James, Lily and Harry’s grave.” In a step to the left she showed them the statue of Jewelia and Jaqi in her arms with a large black dog beside them, “This is Jewel’s and Jaqi’s.”

Curufin, “Jaqi’s?”

Ginny pointed at the second plaque reading, ‘Jaqiearae Suzsieanne Anistasiea Pluto Black’ with two death dates before another dash leaving room for your third, “She’s been killed twice. Well, technically three if you count the time in the third floor hidden corridor. When Riddle had possessed Quirrell and when she was assumed dead as a child and the Battle at Hogwarts.” Their eyes scanned over the dates leaving them gasping.

Clegorm, “How old is she?”

Ginny met his eyes coldly, “22 on the first.” Drawing out another gasp from all but Elrond, who already knew from your Father. Her eyes shifted to Maedhros, “For all you might not trust or like about her, she has spent the last 18 years of her life never once being considered for how deeply the choices our world forced her into would inflict pain on her. One single man hoping for power and immortality heard a prophecy naming an infant that would be able to bring him down, so he went to kill him. 18 years she has been a pawn in someone else’s war and an endless battle of egos and she somehow managed to survive and bring us with her here, to safety. We were children, and somehow we were expected to take out the darkest Wizard of our age. Before you came we had finally settled, started to heal again, what right do you have to doubt her when you were the one to kill those boys’ Parents. How does that give you any rights to them?!”

Maedhros, “Their cultures must be honored!”

Ginny stepped closer to him as her glare tightened, “Their cultures?! You destroyed their culture! Their home, Family and lives! You killed them that day! Who they were going to be, what they could have achieved! You just don’t understand!”

Maedhros huffed stating sarcastically, “Oh please do enlighten me.”

Ginny’s eyes sparked and she muttered an incantation casting the graveyard into a field of mist starting a stream of memories locked in this memoriam for any willing to witness them.

Starting with the public announcement of the events at Godric’s Hollow echoing with flashes of titles reading in their own native tongues, ‘The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Died Protecting Him’. After this it rippled through your years of hiding as a Weasely. Sirius’ escape short after. Next was the naming of your being named as alive and your house in Hogwarts to the world.

Then it was the news of each of the teachers being dismissed in your position. The troubling trip to try to save Quirrel leaving them covering their mouths when you saw that you had failed. Up till the Chamber of Secrets being opened leaving you sent to Azkaban leaving them with mouths agape at the headlines and image of you being carried bloody and beaten in Lucius’ arms from Azkaban in their tying to beat the location of the Chamber from you. After was the apologies and clearing of your and Hagrid’s names.

All the headlines of your trip to the States defending the Lycan Citizens flashed up with a memory of your speech to the President of MACUSA and the effect those words had on their lives. All of the Vaults in the school and creatures you had battled and protected the students from. That skipped to the trip to Paris where a lost child had been returned at least to be honorably buried bringing with it an entire family claiming up an entire chunk of your familial history.

The attack at the Quidditch cup and Triwizard tournament, that left Cedric, you and Harry the final survivors with the image of you gagging on your own blood after one of the Crabbe’s had nicked your neck with a cursed blade that inflicts wounds that slowly expands, nearly decapitating you. Shortly after the world exploding in half, all torn about Riddle being back or not.

After was the flurry from the Ministry about trying to hide Riddle’s return and Umbridge, revealing her methods of ‘teaching’ to the men watching. In the middle of the Department of Mysteries you battled in the sea of glowing orbs then raced to fight in the rocky hall with the smoky archway that dissolved your father’s ghoul when it was killed. From there at the heart clenching image of your rage at the assumed loss of your father into the Ministry of Magic the main hall of fountains was shown with you attacking Bellatrix, slapping Riddle then dueling in Albus’ form. Up until Riddle held you off the ground strangling you until you shifted back, just in time for the picture etched in the floating newspaper passing the group was captured moments before Riddle fled.

After this the images sped on, one after another of various deaths, battles and moments leading up until the final battle at Hogwarts leaving you trading places with Neville shifting him free from Bellatrix’ attack, starting your final battle with her. Helpless they watched on at the hidden dagger crashing into your leg before the final curse you triggered from her in your taunting. Growing burns from the cruciatus curse spread across your skin between your screams while Ginny clenched her fists glaring at the teary eyed Maedhros watching on helpless just as the students, Aurors, flocks of ducks and Professors had behind your bubble charm.

Finally your screams ended in a flash of green as you flew in front of Bellatrix taking the full blow of Riddle’s killing curse sending you both rolling across the dust and rubble coated ground. In a race Riddle got to your side and cradled you in his arms as the blackened ooze draining from your facial scars was releasing out a near silent scream under his wails of agony at your loss. Sharply he turned to Bellatrix, blue eyes burning with rage fueled tears and a sharp snarl at the cowering Bellatrix who was promptly killed after.

Slowly their eyes returned to you, seeing Neville standing shouting at Riddle distracting him from your body slowly slumped over onto your side and you painfully clambered to your knees drawing out your wand. In a slow rasp for air you apparated in front of Neville when Riddle cast his next spell causing his wand to launch his curse right back at him and his wand exploded. Falling unconscious right after the orb you dropped that captured hundreds of Death Eaters and those from the other factions of Wizards attacking your allies.

After, your trial played following the scene of the Ministry tearing you from your hospital bed to your due diligence. Ending with you barely being able to stand through the announcement of your sentence, the uproar causing there to be a pause in judgment with the shout that you would never see your child again. Percy’s step in nearly had them collapsing in tears seeing finally someone stepping up to defend you until Rufus entered with Albus, Sirius and Regulus, once in session again you were sentenced to life serving as a teacher and given the warning of prison should the Death Eaters rise again. Next the flurry of the past couple years flew by with memories from each group ending with the flurried snatching up of what could be gathered in a staggering battle you caught more than a hefty helping of attacks from that ended with crashing in Bag End.

When their breathing had steadied their eyes fell on Ginny as the last of the mist rolled away leaving them trembling at her fading glare dropping into a deeply sunken expression, “We should have protected her. But we all used her as our shields while the former Ministry condemned her all while taking the information she fed them on how to arm and protect our people. And she never once condemned us for it, she just took the brunt of it, and took it and never accepted a thank you or apology. She was in the twins’ place, you do not understand because you are not trying to protect them. If anyone knows what they are going through it’s her. Say what you want about her, but you will never get those boys, and she will never let you hurt them again.”

Maedhros, “I have no intention-.”

Ginny flatly cut him off, “No one ever does, but they do.”

Elrond cleared his throat asking, “Have you eaten? I know in my own tours of our memorial gardens I require a meal afterwards.”

Ginny, “We’re always hungry. Family trait.”

Elrond smirked to himself and Elros said, “In that we can help. Tea should be prepared by our return.”

Elrond added in her turn to join the still trembling brothers around the twins reeling at all they had seen, Maedhros himself remembering his own torturing years under Melkor’s hand. “Tea would grant Haldir ample time to complete his first day on his new rotations.”

Ginny glanced up at him, “New rotations?”

Elrond, “Ah, yes, it was a late night decision by King Thranduil, Haldir must not have been able to inform you yet of his aiding on the training of the new guards for the patrols around Amon Lanc. Along with his brothers they would be aiding the lifting of the standard for the recovered lands.”

Caranthir, “Princess, you have interest in patrols of King Thranduil’s guards?”

Trying not to stammer at the title she replied, “Haldir’s my One.”

Curufin, “You would accept a March Warden as your spouse?”

At that Ginny asked, “Who did you marry?” Curufin looked at her with a shocked gaze, “Haldir is a phenomenal person who I doubt you barely know to judge on his job alone.”

Curufin, “My wife is a sculptor. Trained our son Celebrimbor in his crafting early on in his youth.”

Ginny, “Your son didn’t return?”

Elrond cleared his throat drawing her gaze, “He is in Amon Lanc.”

Ginny looked over his face then back to Curufin, “He does not speak with me for honoring my oath in retrieving our Father’s Silmarils and my part in the slayings following.”

Ginny, “Hmm.” In her look forward he glanced at her again, “Anyone else have kids?”

They glanced at her and Amrod replied, “No, our wives have arrived from Valinor with the new arrivals however.”

Ginny nodded, “So you’re going to try for kids then? What about jobs? Any plans?”

The questions widened their eyes and the twins could only smirk at the brothers stammering and sputtering lost for responses they still couldn’t form through the tea.

Still partially in her slump Ginny slipped out in the middle of what seemed to be a brewing argument and made her way home again. Though in her entrance the sight of you had her drawing in a sharp breath uncertain of how to answer the question of how she’d spent the day so far, first in the graveyard and then with the Feanoreans. “Wanna come throw me around?” The question was simple and was all she needed to hear earning a nod and her hand outstretched to settle in your offered palm, “Come on, let’s go throw me around.”

Through the house you guided her to change into capris and baggy t shirts over tank tops, barefoot for your walk to the smaller ballroom turned sparring gym coated in mats. To the floating tape rolls you walked removing your rings, extending your hands for the rolls to coat your hands. Pressing your fists into your other palms you tested the tape and on your way to grab the padded gloves you slid over your hands stepping into the circle Ginny was walking around inside. Joining in her circling you said, “Jabs first I think.” She nodded and stepping closer she split back into the usual patterns in her advancing steps with a set of high kicks to meet the glove you raised complicating the interweaving motions soon adding Hermione also in need of a good bit of steam release herself.

Curiously in her huffing slip out of a meeting to allow more Dams to be forced into Dis and Diaa’s attention Niro guided the young Princes after the irritated future Princess had sat through another session of lessons on what was to be expected of her new role on top of her job. Though wide smirks eased across their lips seeing her drip into a clearly impressive bout of sparring the other Durins grinned in settling around the benches along the walls. The dropped gloves came in Regulus’ entrance to guide Hermione into another lesson on trading elbows and kicks avoiding his try to take her down to pin her to the ground starting as Haldir slipped inside with Legolas behind your intendeds whose lips parted seeing Ginny toss you over her shoulders.

Onto your shins you were guided and folded back flat with her hands on your shoulders only to have the Dwarves oohing at the position she had left you in, open to her being pinned herself. With a smirk you asked, “What are you forgetting?”

Ginny looked you over, “You’re pinned. How-,”

A sudden lift from you made even the Elves smirk watching her feet leaving the ground allowing you to flip her over. Holding her head to aid her roll, pinning her down with your legs pinning her legs down behind her back with yours around her middle and a hand gripping her wrists making her giggle helplessly saying, “No one uses this move. No one but you can do this.”

To which Kili said in even Hermione and Regulus’ chuckle break, “Actually that’s a staple move in our traditional wrestling forms.”

While you let her up Ginny said, “No offence but with your legs and wide ribs I doubt you could pull it off.” That had you pulling back at Fili and Kili leaping up along with Thorin and Frerin both stripping their upper halves and out of their boots amusing you all to no end at their full display luring you three back in to learn some more moves and share some of yours.

“Let’s get this down,” the statement was mumbled and died in giggles at your waking from your dream on Thorin and Dwalin wrestling over a pack of cookies with Fili and Kili eventually eating them watching the pair wrestle before they darted away when the empty pack was discovered by the elders.

An early breakfast came and went with you bringing Em to Barty’s so she could meet her siblings, to be picked up in a couple hours by Ginny after her stop to help Hermione with something at the Ministry. Her night had gone way better after blowing off steam and next to you when you had held Fin to keep him calm through the bad storm that rolled through your lands she fell asleep as you had. Your intendeds had to return to check on their new patrols and eat with the boys while Molly has outdone herself with dinner on one of her sprees to distract from a hot flash.

More and more you focused on your classes with scattered notes received through the day from Em on how happy she was with her new siblings until they all started to cry at least. Lunch however had you sending off a note to Glorfindel with Em’s request to have dinner there the group gladly accepted and readied for.

“Alright, I got sippy cups and silly straws, which are you up for?” You said entering their dining room in Thranduil’s apartment turning the boys’ head as Em was set down at your feet to greet them.

“I want a cup, Mummy.” Em said then tottered over to the boys.

Looking them over you said , “Cups it is.” Catching their confused stares.

Around you Legolas and Glorfindel came closer with the former asking, “You brought cups?”

Giggling softly you said, “They have lids. Easier for children to use. Unless they’d prefer not to use them.” Pouring the juice on the table into the green cup you added the lid onto that Em accepted to drink from the boys agreed to try them and accepted their own drinks they grinned through using. Next came high chairs they all enjoyed being settled into at the tall person table instead of their kids table when they didn’t have a lap to sit on. The meal went swimmingly while you all giggled along to the conversation the children were having between comments and brief questions for the adults when thought of.

Again however once the plates were cleared the twins were reluctant to play nearly stirring a pout from Em until your tap on Legolas’ arm stating he was it. Crouching down you said, “How about Hide N Seek?” A simple instruction and request from you had Thranduil and Glorfindel out of their outer robes and circlets to play as well. The rules were simple and in usual fashion you had mentally guided the Lords to grant the children a bit of leeway on their far from sneaky spots luring terribly hushed giggles making them grin knowing why you had said to do so. Playing dumb made the game more fun for the children and more amusing for Lords Elrond and Celeborn in their visit to speak about Lindir and the new guards’ progress.

Though all in a group the twins led by Estel in his stumped search for you had Em saying “Mummy’s the best at hiding.”

A far from subtle rustle of a leafy branch in the tree you were hiding in had you giggling when they all finally found you unnoticed above their heads for the past few minutes. A hop down and giggling race to help them find Glorfindel next came and by the time you discovered Thranduil heads began to droop and yawns rippled through the tired quartet you all carried them up to the Royal Wing for the boys’ nursery.

In an empty closet for them you traced the doorway making a link to your door exiting from a spare coat closet in the hall across from your bedroom to carry Em through. The link now easing the worries of the men to have an easier way to check on you and bring the boys to you again if need be. All tucked in they slept under Taule’s watch and Legolas chuckled heading off to work on his bow for you wishing you a fun night. Stealing a glance at the smile on his father’s face as you were off on a suggested night ride with the pair between lingering stolen kisses and adoring comments on their time with you today. This time with Glorfindel you rode in their try to keep it even and until their list of sights they wished to share were awed at by you they clung to you then gladly took you back to the Palace for some tea.

Pt 27

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf, @pastelhexmaniac

Ridikulus- @long-cosmos-overhead, @partoftheminfamily, @alishlieb

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Glorfindel x Reader OC #HP Crossover #Ginny x Haldir

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c-is-for-circinate · 5 years

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---okay wait, no, nevermind, this is what I want to say about Vex and Percy, I found it after all. I love them because they’re a love story about choosing what you want to build after the world falls down around you, and finding somebody else who will look to the future and build next to you, even though you’re both working with shattered landscapes and cracked tools. I love them because the way both of their worlds broke is so fucking different, but they understand each other enough to recognize it, and neither one of them can keep from moving instinctively, unstoppably forward anyway.

Once upon a time, they both had lives with plans, and then those lives fell apart. And both of those lives, those sets of plans included love in their own way, but neither of them looked anything like the love Percy and Vex found with each other. They didn’t expect that at all.

I have a lot of feelings about teenaged Percival de Rolo, who is probably going to be a clockmaker. He has so many siblings in his vast noble family that he can do that, he can be semi-useless and artful. He expects to get married someday, a respectable arranged match to someone he’ll presumably like well enough, and live a quiet, clever life. I picture him as fond enough of his family, assuming that he’ll be fond enough of his hypothetical maybe-someday wife and his hypothetical maybe-someday children, happy enough in that partnership, with the time and space to be passionate about his cleverness and his books and his inventions. There’s such a specific kind of fulfilment in that life I think Percy once envisioned for himself, with people who are reliably there, loved but taken a little bit for granted, all of the focus and elation and ‘this is the point of me’ devotion towards intellectual pursuits. I think he would have been happy with that life, and that he would have been kind of a vaguely-inoffensive asshole because he never really paid enough attention to other people to bother really hurting them, or to learn that he could really hurt them and stop.

Of course we know how all of that fell apart. What I’m fascinated by is Percy himself, though, Percy who survived to join Vox Machina, because the Percy we know from canon never actually stopped falling apart. We know he hasn’t rebuilt himself a new life, he doesn’t have a future, he’s got a revenge quest and then he has a dragon distraction, sure, yes, we see that, but it’s not just the facts of what Percy does, it’s the feelings and the headspace he’s in the whole time. Taliesin’s said a few times, and I am so interested in the implications, that Percy spends 95% of the campaign mostly staying coherent through the middle of a constant, years-long nervous breakdown. He is constantly slipping back and forth along the edges of dissociating, present enough to react to things but not exactly here, not really processing the full weight of everything that happens, not quite. He can’t tell his Orthax-visions apart from nightmares cooked up by his own brain, and he talks more than once about how much the past few years with VM feel more like a dream than reality. His judgment is a mess, diving headfirst into deals with anyone who’ll have him, making whatever bad decision seems like a good idea at the time.

So Percy’s life was smashed to smithereens and the Percy we know has absolutely not recovered, has not even really begun to recover--but one of the really epic things about Percy is the way he just keeps moving forward anyway. Dazed, dissociated, acting on instinct, whatever Percy may be, it is baked into his very nature to keep on going. When Percy is surprised or threatened, he always seems to be shocked into action, not stillness. We see it when he goes full Determinator in Whitestone during the Briarwoods arc, and again chasing Ripley to Glintshore. We see it directly after the Chroma Conclave attack, looking for a plan, for a next step, when he tugs Vex to evacuate the keep; we see it in the ruins of Draconia when he’s the only one to notice Tiberius, and he is so careful about asking questions that won’t derail the thing they have in motion, so careful not to alert any of the others who might grind everything to a halt, because grief or no grief this has to keep going anyway. Even when he’s awash with useless emotions and there’s nowhere to go to, Percy broods at work, down by a forge or setting pen to paper, making and planning and doing. It’s so telling that even at his absolute worst, in that pit of nothing when Orthax first whispered in his ear, Percy’s reaction was to make something.

Which brings us to Vex, who isn’t quite a maker like Percy, but is still a builder in her own way. Vex who had her own life that fell apart, and I don’t really mean Byroden, and I certainly don’t mean Syngorn.

Vex’s life, Vex’s plans, weren’t handed to her. The life Vex expected to live was the one she was still living when we first met her: the traveling adventurer’s life she’d built with Vax. (And maybe that’s our first demonstration of exactly how much Vex is maker and a builder, that after her life fell to pieces the first time--after Byroden, after Syngorn--she’d already managed to put together a new one once.) She has her brother and she has her bear, and by the time we meet her she has Vox Machina, and it’s not much for convention but it’s a life. All of her expectations are locked into that life and that future. VM at level 9, with a keep under construction and the respect of Tal’dorei, was obviously already pretty different than the twins at level 1 living in the woods, but it’s also so easy to see how it’s just a continuation of the same thing. Vex and her twin live in each others’ pockets, and she shoots things and makes sure that there is always enough to eat and always money for a rainy day, and there’s stability in unconditional love and self-sufficiency right there. Laura’s mentioned on Talks that, if the Conclave hadn’t attacked and Vax had left the group, Vex would have tried as hard as possible to convince him to stay, and then would’ve gone with him for sure. Of course she would have. Vox Machina was the life Vex was trying to build, but Vax and Trinket were the life she already had, cornerstone and truth.

You can see how hard Vex works to create and maintain and secure that life with every coin she squirrels away so zealously against a rainy day. There is no doubt in my mind that, pre-Vox Machina, Vex and her bow and her hoarded pennies was the one who made sure there was always something to eat over the campfire every night. There is no doubt in my mind that when they found Byroden in ashes, Vex was the one who got her brother moving, who kept them moving, who kept them pointed forwards no matter what. And you can see how much Vex put into the bigger, richer, theoretically more-stable life Vox Machina was starting to build together when it all came crashing down.

Percy’s life fell apart pre-stream, and we all know exactly how. The super fascinating thing about Vex’s arc is that we get to see her life fall apart, right there in the middle of the story, maybe more than anybody else. The Chroma Conclave was hard on everyone for all sorts of reasons, but in terms of what Vex tried to build for herself and tried to keep, it’s easy to see how fast and how utterly she loses very nearly everything. Greyskull Keep is first, of course, with the heartbreak of watching Vex hesitating there at the edge of the tree with tears in her eyes, because this was their home. It’s such a big thing for her, more than for anyone else--and of course it is, because Vex more than anyone in the group saw Greyskull as her future. Keyleth always had the Ashari to go back to, and Pike had Sarenrae, Grog lives in the motion and Scanlan avoids plans, Percy could barely conceive of a future existing and Vax was lost and floundering for any next step he could find, but Vex had this castle and Vex called this castle home.

Of course it doesn’t end with the castle, though, because this love story is the story of how everything breaks, and the next thing of Vex’s to break was Vax. Before the dragons came, Vax was already falling apart and falling away from her in two different directions, half of him tugged away by depression and uncertainty, the other half pulled after Keyleth. The seeds of distance were sprouting there even before Vex died in the Queen’s champion’s tomb. And maybe that feels even more symbolic now than I ever realized it did before--Vex died and came back, but the deal her brother made, that vow he swore, wiped away any chance Vex still had for ever getting back that wandering rogue-and-ranger life that once was hers.

The Chroma Conclave arc takes nearly half of Campaign 1, and Vex spends it watching bits of her old life crumble while she’s much, much too busy to process or mourn. There are dragons in the world, and there’s no time to worry about what the world will look like once they’re dead. She doesn’t have plans. Vax has raven wings and a goddess and a girlfriend, and Emon is on fire, is turning to lava beneath Thordak’s feet, and Keyleth is a wreck and Grog dies for five minutes and god only knows what’s going on in Scanlan’s head ever--and Vex, like Percy, just keeps going. She reads the Raven Queen book cover to cover seventeen times. She takes things, and she hoards things, and she scrounges for loot, and she gets called greedy for it but the thing is that for Vex, acquiring things is very much a fundamental kind of building for the future, maybe even more than making and tinkering is for Percy. Stocking up now will save them later, it’s baked into the firmament of Vex’s soul, take whatever you can because you will NEED IT someday. She steals a broom because she wants it, yes, and then it saves all of their lives. She sets the group after Fenthras because she wants it. She bargains and she haggles, even when there’s no reason at all to believe that tomorrow will come, even when Vex has no idea what tomorrow could be, because whatever doubts she may have on the surface, her instincts can’t give up that last breath of faith: I will need this money later, because there will be a later. Just like Percy, scribbling plans in his journals late in the night for inventions he has no time or supplies to make. Neither of them have any fucking clue what the future could possibly be, but they can’t stop working towards it anyway.

This is the environment where they fall into each other, Vex and Percy, in the middle of the mess of the Chroma Conclave, in this violent limbo world where any day could be the last and next month might as well not exist. This is where they plant the seeds and start to grow the future they don’t even believe in yet.

The attraction and the flirting start before the dragons even come, of course. Percy builds things for Vex to have and keep and use or squirrel away, and it’s such a perfect expression of both of their attitudes towards the world. Vex keeps his coin with hers, and makes sure to shepherd it just as carefully, makes sure that Percy will have enough in whatever future comes. And there are hints of what they’ll be. There’s a reason that ‘Darling, take the mask off’ is SO MUCH, and it’s because ever-moving determinator Percy is stuck. He’s driving himself right into a corner, working himself off a cliff. He’s just killed someone horribly and he’s on the edge of blue-screening right now, of stopping, or maybe of smashing everything until there’s nowhere left to go. And Vex, who’s got a good life for herself right now but has already lost one and knows what it’s like, says, come on. Let’s back you away from this wall you’ve thrown yourself up against. Take the mask off. Let’s keep moving forward.

And they’re something, there, in the way Vex not only keeps going but tries to keep Percy going right through it all. So much of Vex’s constant planning and motion is wrapped around and embedded with keeping other people going too. We know she took care of Vax when it was just the two of them, because they took care of each other, and you cannot tell me Vex wasn’t the long-term planner of the pair. She gathers Trinket up out of horror and sadness and makes sure he has a future. She collects strays, angel slave-boys, the fruitless quest for the Gray Render baby. She pulls Percy out of a jail cell and keeps him in the first place. And there’s a selfless generosity to it, of course, or it’s easy to see one anyway, Vex who mothers, Vex who checks in on everybody else after her own death, but that’s not the whole story. The other half of it is Vex-who’s-never-been-alone. Vex who hoards people as tightly and as carefully as she hoards coin. She can keep going through nearly anything, so long as her people are there with her, so she is going to make sure that everyone she loves stays okay because she needs them to be.

The thing about Percy is that--because he’s a builder, a maker, a fixer, a determinator in his own right--he can return that favor. He can make sure that Vex keeps going, not by stopping and sitting in her feelings with her until she’s ready to move (which is very much the Vax and Keyleth energy), but by tugging her along in the direction she was already going. In Syngorn he gives her Whitestone, and oh, it’s a way to shut her father up, but more than anything it’s a someday. There in the city that helped destroy Vex’s first good life, while the dragon that burned the rest of it to ashes sits over the ruins of her last, Percy makes a promise that someday Vex can have a home and a future again. It’s far away and shrouded in mist. Percy can’t even really picture his own someday right now. They might both die before they get there. But there’s a someday ahead, and it’s enough to get Vex moving again, proud and hopeful and ready to go and collect that bow that’ll help get her there.

And Vex turns right back around again on Glintshore and in its aftermath, demanding that Percy have that future too, because she doesn’t want this one without him. If he’s going to promise her a someday to move towards again, then he damn well has to get there too. It’s because she wants him to be alive and happy, and it’s because Vex just wants him, needs him in her life, this human she collected and is so determined to keep.

So the promise of someday, in Whitestone is glittering on the horizon for them when they kiss in the woods after the Vorugal fight, and it’s just barely around the corner past the next couple of hells when Percy comes to her room before Thordak, but I think it also still feels like a far-away mirage, and I think that matters. They are both still lost in a world full of carnage and dragons and constant threat. Percy is stabbing Raishan in a council meeting because why the fuck not, this seems like a good idea at this time. Vex is still so unsure, trying to teach herself to forgive, trying to see a path forward to that someday-horizon, trying to deal with the fact that even if they kill all the dragons and even if they all survive she’s lost her brother to Keyleth and fate. The world is a wreck and they are a wreck in it, and the only thing they can do is not stop. The only thing they can be sure of is right here, right now.

So that’s where they fall into bed. On the eve of the Thordak fight, knowing they both could die tomorrow, knowing they most likely will. They’re about to go take on the monster that destroyed the only two homes Vex ever loved, a decade and a half apart, and there is no kind of promise that either of them will see the other side of the war, and that’s where they grab each other and hold on. They’re here in this impossible place together. They’ll take it as it comes, they’ll take whatever comes, and for this one night they have each other in it.

And then they survive.

So much of the episodes directly after the end of the Conclave--the next week or two in Vox Machina’s life, where they save Scanlan and try to bury some ashes and rip themselves apart, and then fight a kraken and die trying, and then go to Hell, and then come back--is just this string of, okay, nobody here knows how to stop. The dragons are dead, but the fugue state of violence and getting-the-next-thing-done, nose to the grindstone and figure this next step out and don’t worry about long-term plans because we might not survive to see them anyway, that’s still here. Percy’s been living there for years (and certainly didn’t have time, post-Briarwoods arc, to start thinking about pulling himself out of it). Vex’s specific life plans got trashed by the dragons more than anyone else’s. But really, the whole group is living there in one way or another. It’s just that Scanlan shattered under it and ran, and Grog’s never really suffered from it or lived differently anyway, and Pike keeps taking breaks to fix temples and tend to refugees and work towards rebuilding right through it all. Keyleth and Vax both found a sort of peace in fatalism and destiny, in knowing that they have set paths there in front of them and all they have to do is choose to follow them.

Percy and Vex, very fundamentally, don’t have those set paths. Nothing for them is a given. There’s Whitestone, yes, but there is a reason Percy isn’t Lord of Whitestone, king in his castle, leading his city through the dragons and beyond. When Percy’s life broke it shattered, and even when Whitestone was freed, he didn’t claim it as his. He only came back after the dragon attack because Emon was gone and it was the only safe place they knew. Whitestone is in Percy’s bones, part of how he defines himself and his life, but living there, running it, tying himself to the city--it isn’t a given. Percy could die fighting dragons or die to a kraken or spend eternity trapped in the Nine Hells, and Whitestone would be fine. He could leave and never come back, and Whitestone would be fine.

So coming back to Whitestone--sending Vex on the Gray Hunt--fucking in the castle treasury and setting up plans for whatever’s next--it’s a choice. Nothing about the people Percy and Vex become during peacetime is about destiny. They had lives and plans and destinies, the rich asshole clockmaker, the ranger on the road. Those are gone. Everything they keep from those old lives is a little broken, a little twisted from what they once expected it to be. Everything they do now is what they decide to build.

And this is the glory of Percy and Vex, the love that’s so big it makes my heart ache: the thing they decide to keep in this new world is each other. In the fugue of war with no future, they found each other and built things together, spent an entire evening tinkering on Vex’s stolen broom in Percy’s workshop, flirted and fucked and kept each other going even when nobody knew where. Neither of them had real, passionate romantic love written into their plans, back when they had plans. Neither of them needed it, not for the lives they wanted. But those lives are dead and gone, and they found this thing together in the weird wilderness between there and here, and they’re keeping it. They get to do that. They get to build their new lives in whatever shape they want, and that means they get to set each other as cornerstones and build everything else around them.

It’s so fundamental to this relationship and this new future that all the building blocks they’re working with, on both sides, are a little bit broken. Whitestone itself is still a struggling, recovering city sitting on a decimated continent. Percy is still so caught up in his own anger, still waiting for another shoe to drop, still not quite ready to believe any of this is real. Vex is pouring through libraries researching Orcus, researching Vecna, waiting for old debts to be called in. They are neither of them fixed. They are neither of them safe.

But we get to see, in one-year timeskip, how tentatively and tenaciously they keep working together towards something anyway. Vex builds a house and a Gray Hunt corps and a tentative detente with her father, starting to pick up those old pieces, starting to try. Percy builds civic works projects and an international early warning system, still ready for the next disaster, starting to entertain the idea that it doesn’t have to destroy everything. They get new glasses and open a bakery and invest in armor and ammo and art. They host a ball.

They get married, in secret, and tell almost nobody they know. It’s such an asshole thing to do! They are both still assholes, both still broken enough to be wary of the consequences of inviting their own loved ones to a simple wedding. They do it because the point isn’t the moment, it’s the marriage, all the future days to come in this new life they’ve agreed they are going to create together. They want it to be theirs, just theirs, this relationship they never expected to have and now intend to base the rest of their lives on. It’s kind of a messy, slightly dickish way to go about things, and that’s perfect, because Vex and Percy are kind of messy, slightly dickish people, and they own that together. They own a lot of things together now.

The epilogue of Campaign 1 walks the line between open-ended and closed story in a way I find so deeply satisfying, and so much of that is because of Percy and Vex.

So many stories end at a point where--the day is saved, or it appears to be, and the horizon is wide open for the heroes and the sunset, and everything is triumphant and victorious and anything could happen next. It’s perfectly satisfying and ripe for sequels, and nothing is quite guaranteed but everybody is happy for now and that’s a good place to tie things up anyway. It’s the ending of Return of the Jedi, or the first Pacific Rim--something has to happen next, somebody has to figure out what that is, but that’s not the heroes’ problem and that’s not the worry for today.

Sometimes, stories end with everything so tightly wrapped up that there’s no room to breathe. It’s the ending that says, what you’ve just read or watched or gone through is the entire story. It is everything that matters. It is full, and it is complete, and nothing that ever happens in the rest of these characters’ lives will ever be as important as what they’ve just done. Lord of the Rings does this a bit, and it actually works; Harry Potter does it badly, and I’d submit that The Adventure Zone: Balance does too. It’s the implication behind every Disney or fairytale happily ever after, although those at least tend to skip the epilogue describing exactly what that happily-ever-after means.

Vex and Percy do neither of these things at the end of their story, or they do both of them, and that’s so great. They do get the epilogue, with the closed ending and the happily-ever-after. The Lord and Lady de Rolo settle down, have at least five children, and live in peace for decades until Percy eventually dies of old age and Vex far-more-eventually follows. Their friends outlive them by decades or centuries. It’s tidy and nice and final...except. Whitestone could outlive even Keyleth, and Percy--and by extension now Vex, too--lives as long as Whitestone lives.

Somehow Percy and Vex manage to have an epilogue with every one of the trappings of a perfect picture-book ending, without feeling static. They’re going to have the house and the kids and the castle and the tiny little kingdom, and it’s going to be full every single day, because inherent in the very makeup of these two people is the inability to ever stop growing. With the dragons dead, with Vecna gone, they can keep doing exactly what they’ve been doing this entire time. They can move forward. They can build. And they can build something massive that outlasts both of them, lay foundations and groundwork for centuries and generations to come.

Fighting with Vox Machina will always have been the biggest, hardest, most glorious and dangerous, most epic thing that Vex and Percy have ever done, and it’s absolutely over. The book is done, tied off with a bow. But they’re not stuck and they’re not empty without it. They’re going to make clock towers and festivals and change the whole culture of Whitestone. They’re going to have half a dozen children and raise them towards their future. The Whitestone of fifty, sixty, seventy years from the end of the campaign when Percy eventually dies will be fundamentally different from the Whitestone they came home to when their adventures ended, and it will be the pair of them who made it so, together. Which means that even without him Vex will still have him, in civil infrastructure and all the things that let people keep living their lives, in this thing they created as a team, this thing she’ll continue to shepherd and grow without him for the rest of her own life.

And maybe that’s the key to Vex and Percy, to why their ending feels so satisfying, so inevitable and perfect and good. So many stories end before their characters can change and split away from each other. So many epilogues decree that their characters will never change, ever, so they can never grow apart. But Percy and Vex are built of growth and motion, and when they found a match for themselves in each other they decided to point that forward momentum in the same direction and change together for the rest of their lives. It’s what a real relationship looks like, a real happily-ever-after. They will pick each other up and help each other on along the way, because we’ve seen it happen. They’ll hold on to each other, and they’ll build.

#critical role #perc'ahlia #LOOK I JUST HAVE ALL THE VEX AND PERCY FEELINGS OKAY #THIS ISN'T EVEN ALL OF THEM #it's just a whole bunch #sometimes I just ship things #and then this happens

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