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fallinnflower · 4 years

Text

keep the sunshine (in my heart)

minghao x reader (university!au, trip!au, fluff)

wc: 7k

a/n: this has been in the works for far too long. everyone pokes fun at mingyu but out of love. title based on the song “summer’s gone” by ashmute which i highly recommend. i once again attempted not to gender the reader but they do have long hair idk. this was posted twice before but tags didn’t work so it’s being posted again and hopefully it works now lol

The first time you meet Minghao, you're getting a piggyback ride from Mingyu because your walk on the beach ended with one of your sandals breaking irreparably. Thankfully, there are plenty of shops ready to sell you a new pair — once they open for the day. You'd forced Mingyu out to see the sunrise with you on this first day of vacation before the gaggle of friends you'd both invited showed up and made the house party central. He said this was just karma.

Your tall friend is walking with an exaggerated sway, and you squeeze your arms around his neck tighter.

"Yah, Kim Mingyu!" You snap, blowing at a strand of hair that fell in front of your eye. "Walk normally, I'm getting motion sick, you punk."

"You don't get motion sick, Y/N," Mingyu replies, and you huff in annoyance because he's right. Leave it to Mingyu to remember the stupidest things about you. As you're about to tell him to put you down, you'll just walk with one foot bare, he comes to an abrupt stop. You peer over the top of his head, eyebrows furrowed, but can't see anything notable. More people are on the beach, but you don't see anyone important.

You lift one arm to poke at Mingyu's cheek—

Suddenly, your friend starts running back towards the coast, leaving you to redouble your grip. You let out an awful screeching sound, cursing directly into his ear, but he pays you no mind.

"Minghao!" he yells. A lanky guy in a denim jacket who's squatting in the sand with a camera pointed at the horizon turns towards you both. His expression remains decidedly nonplussed as Mingyu continues barreling down the beach towards him like an excited puppy. As soon as Mingyu stops, you start pounding on his chest.

"Put me down, you maniac!" He lets go of your legs and stoops a bit to let you off his back. You grumble and begin tying your hair back into a ponytail, barely sparing his friend a glance.

"You're early," Mingyu says, totally delighted at the sight of his friend. Minghao lets his camera fall against his chest as he stands, nodding.

"Yeah, I decided I wanted to take some photos. I haven't gone to the house yet." His sharp gaze travels over to you, squinting slightly against the early morning sunlight.

"You must be Y/N."

"The one and only," you reply, ducking your head. "I hear you're Mingyu's smartest friend. Well, aside from me."

The Chinese boy smirks, snorting slightly at your comment.

"Well, if you're headed to the house then we'll just go with you. Then Y/N can change into some different shoes," Mingyu snickers, and you swat at his arm.

You take off your sandals, following the boys as they start up to the beach towards the house.

"Wasn't Jun coming with you?" Mingyu asks.

"He decided to drive himself. He wasn't done packing yet."

"Sounds like him," he laughs. "I'll just test my cooking on the two of you tonight then."

"And what's on the menu, Chef Mingyu?" You ask, poking him in the ribs. Minghao chuckles as Mingyu swats your hand away.

"If you keep acting like this, then all you'll get is ramen."

"You say that like it's a punishment," you retort.

"Depends on how much he's making," Minghao chimes in, leaning forward to look around Mingyu at you.

"Maybe I won't make you dinner at all!" Mingyu huffs, though his pout dissipates quickly when confronted with both yours and Minghao's laughter. As the Chinese boy shoots you a conspiratorial smile, you can't help but think that you like having someone like him around.

The three of you spend the evening together, preparing the house for the others to come tomorrow. You turn in relatively early, all sufficiently exhausted from the previous day.

After how yesterday morning had gone, you opted to go out to the beach on your own in the morning. Over the course of your years working and going to school you'd gotten into the habit of waking up early, especially when in unfamiliar places, so you were up shortly before the dawn.

You're putting on your spare shoes by the door when suddenly someone else starts down the stairs.

"Morning," you call, not looking up. The voice that replies surprises you into looking back, startled when you find Minghao grinning down at you.

"You're up early," you say, standing up and running a hand through your hair. Minghao looks exceptionally stylish, especially in comparison to you in your tank top and ratty shorts. His camera is still slung around his neck, and he motions to it as he replies.

"I wanted more photos of the sunrise. The forecast for today looked promising."

"Well," you reply, watching as he puts on his own shoes. "I'm not much of a photographer, but we could always go for breakfast after. If you don't mind me tagging along, that is."

"Sure." His response is cool, but his eyes seem to light up a bit at your offer. With that, the two of you head out the door.

The walk to the beach isn't far, and it's spent in surprisingly comfortable silence. You had expected Minghao to be more intimidating, but he seems relaxed as you make your way down the sandy sidewalk to the shore. The breeze is almost chilly, the coastline quiet with all the seabirds still sleeping. You can't help but cast glances at the boy beside you as you walk, noticing once again how attractive he looks. Even in such a casual setting, he's gorgeous, practically a work of art, his brown bangs gently ruffling in the wind. Catching a glimpse of his camera, you think that if you were any kind of photographer you would rather take photos of Minghao instead of the sunrise. He seems like a rarer kind of beauty in your eyes.

As the two of you walk, you're content to follow his lead. The sunrise is pretty from anywhere to you, but Minghao seems to have an artist's vision — so you decide to trust his judgement, especially since the window for his work is so briefly open.

He pauses for a moment when you both step into the sand, and you halt a few steps later. His brows are furrowed as he looks off into the distance, and you cock your head to the side.

"What's up?"

"I think we should head to the pier," he says.

"Fine by me," you shrug. "There's a restaurant over there." Minghao rolls his eyes at the playful grin you give him before nodding and leading the way once more.

The tide is gentle, the waves rolling in slow and short. Once you near the pier and Minghao finally settles into a place to take photos, you find yourself wandering towards the water. You may not have an eye for photography, but you've always loved collecting seashells.

As the waves continue rolling in, you find yourself wishing your sandals hadn't broken, trying to dodge the water so as not to ruin your sneakers.

You find a small handful of shells as you wander, none that are particularly extraordinary but a couple that look very similar with holes in them. You make your way back up the beach to Minghao, dropping into a squat beside him and holding one of those two similar looking shells out in each of your palms.

"Which do you like more?" you ask, and Minghao turns his gaze to you, though he keeps his camera pointed at the horizon. His brows furrow in concentration, and you find yourself amused by how seriously he's taking it. It's actually a bit heartwarming.

"The one in your left hand." You hum and place the shell atop his knee nearest to you, smiling.

"A token of our newfound friendship," you explain, turning your body to look out where his camera is pointed. "They'd make good necklaces."

"How fashion-forward of you," he says drily, but you catch him putting the shell in his pocket with a smile nonetheless.

After getting what he seems to deem a sufficient number of photos, he puts the lens cap back on his camera and stands, offering you a hand to help you.

"You said there was a restaurant by the pier?" he asks as you brush the sand off your shorts. His hand lingers in yours for a moment too long, but you try not to think too much of it — maybe he's still just tired.

"Yep," you jerk your chin towards the point where the wood of the pier meets the asphalt. "It's on the base of the pier."

"Lead the way."

You do. Soon enough the two of you are seated on the pier, overlooking the ocean with two steaming mugs of coffee between you and waiting on breakfast platters. The restaurant is otherwise pretty empty; you imagine it isn't exactly prime time, but it makes it all the better for you. Minghao has set his camera on the table and is leaning back in his chair, both of you looking out across the ocean.

"I think the view is better from here," you muse, chin propped in your hand. Minghao responds with a hum, then, lowly,

"Yeah, I agree." You turn and find him staring at you, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips, but before you can say anything your food suddenly arrives.

The moment you can see and smell it in front of you, you realize just how hungry you are. Forgetting any possible pretense of manners, you dig in hurriedly, shoveling a forkful of French toast eagerly into your mouth. Minghao chuckles, though he looks away in mock surrender when you shoot him a pointed look.

The two of you finish breakfast just in time for some of the shops to open, and so you resolve to buy yourself a new pair of sandals. Although you told Minghao he didn't have to accompany you, he decides to do so nonetheless, holding the door open for you as you enter one of the many shops on the main road.

You're in the middle of perusing sandals when suddenly you feel a slight pressure on your head. You turn in confusion only to find Minghao laughing under his breath, fixing a bucket hat onto his head. It's a faux denim number, ridiculous but not awful, and yet you can tell he hasn't been so kind to you. You glare at him as you pull your own bucket hat off, though even you can't hold back a snort of laughter when you see the ridiculous design. You reach up and pull Minghao's hat off his head, replacing it with the green frog hat, giggling as you look at the tiny little eyes sticking off the top.

"Mm, that's more like it," you say. "I think you should get it."

Minghao laughs and turns towards a small mirror near the sunglasses display messing with his bangs under the brim of the hat.

"Maybe I will." You laugh and turn back to the shoes. You finally find a plain black pair in your size, though when you turn you find Minghao laughing at something once more, with his back to you.

"What?" You ask, peering around him curiously. He shuffles off to the side, pointing out a bucket hat with ramen printed all over it.

"We have to get it," you say, looking over at him. Minghao shakes his head, turning the corners of his mouth down in an attempt to hide his obvious smile. You nudge him with your elbow until he finally breaks into an open-mouthed grin.

"If we don't get him a hat, he'll feel left out," you continue, and he sighs.

"Fine, fine."

By the time the two of you make it back to the house, Mingyu has woken up and is on his second cup of coffee. He offers a relatively lazy greeting when you enter, sprawled across the couch. You walk over and shove his feet off, making a space for yourself as Mingyu grumbles under his breath. Minghao rounds the couch and places the hat on Mingyu’s head, only for the taller boy to immediately pull it off and take a look. He laughs and places it back on his head, and Minghao takes a seat.

"Any word from Jun?" you ask, reaching for the television remote. Mingyu shrugs, gulping down more coffee before responding,

"He texted a few minutes ago that he’s on the road, but that's it. Anything from the girls?"

"Yeri had a final this morning, but I think it's finishing up around ten or something."

"So we're on our own for lunch, is what I'm hearing," Minghao says, and both you and Mingyu nod. After a moment of watching TV mindlessly, you suddenly turn to Mingyu again.

"Do we need to do anything before they get here? Like, grocery shopping or anything?" The mere mention of errands causes Mingyu to slump further into the couch, as you reach over to swat his arm, rolling your eyes.

"Not now, you're no use without enough caffeine in you. Once you've entered the land of the living, I mean." Mingyu huffs at your comment, taking another sip of his coffee before responding. He also takes the opportunity to drape his legs across your lap, and you roll your eyes and pinch his calves in an effort to get him to move.

"Yah," he says, pulling his legs away with a whine. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

"We should get seafood while we're here," you say, then fix your gaze on Minghao. "What's a seafood dish you like?" The Chinese boy looks startled for a moment, but quickly settles into a more thoughtful expression.

"Maeuntang?"

"Ohh, I love stew," you say, turning your gaze to Mingyu. You give him your best puppy dog eyes, but are met with his hand extended in front of your face.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's creepy."

"It's supposed to be cute!" you pout, moving his hand. "If I stop, will you make the stew?"

"Yes," he sighs, putting his hand down.

"Thank you!" you squeal, upping the cuteness to a level you know your friend will hate. He quickly pulls his legs off of you as he wedges himself into the far corner of the couch.

"Stop," he whines. "Did you have too much sugar or something? Minghao, help me!"

"You're on your own," Minghao responds drily, and you finally relent, using the opportunity to bring your legs up onto the couch instead. Mingyu shoots you a scandalized, hurt look.

"You're mean."

"Only to my bestest friends," you coo, reaching over to pinch Mingyu's cheek. The boy huffs in annoyance, slumping against the arm of the couch and bringing his mug back up to his lips.

"How long have you two known each other, again?" Minghao asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Too long—"

"Our whole lives," you say at the same time, cutting Mingyu off. "He's like the brother I never had."

"You're annoying," he grumbles, and you laugh, pinching his cheeks again and forcing him to smile.

"Says the one who followed me to college." Mingyu's ears begin turning red, and you ruffle his hair with an ever-widening grin.

"Just because you got your acceptance letter first doesn't mean I followed you."

"I don't know," Minghao chimes in, leaning forward in his seat. "Y/N makes a pretty convincing case."

"I thought you were supposed to be my friend," Mingyu grumbles, giving Minghao an accusatory look as he squirms out of your arms. There's a resounding thump as he slips off the couch and lands on the floor. He picks up his mug off the coffee table and downs the rest of its contents in one swig before sighing and getting up,

"I'm going to the grocery store."

"Want help?" Minghao asks, starting to rise from his seat, and Mingyu hurriedly shakes his head.

"No! Just stay here and then help me carry the bags in when I'm back."

"Fine," you say, as you cross the room to sit beside Minghao on the loveseat. You sling an arm around the Chinese boy's shoulders,

"I'll just stay here and hang out with my new best friend."

"You're so mean!" Mingyu calls, then slips out the front door, leaving you and Minghao to chuckle in his wake. You retract your arm and lean into the corner of the seat, stretching your neck slightly. Minghao fixes you with his sharp, inquisitive gaze, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you always give him such a hard time?" You immediately laugh at his question.

"Always," you confirm. "Unless it's really serious, you know? I mean it when I say he's like the brother I've never had. I give him a hard time but, like, I'd fuck someone up for him."

Minghao laughs again, leaning into the opposite corner of the loveseat. He runs one graceful hand through his hair, the strands falling back into his eyes immediately.

"Yeah," he says. Then, in a softer tone of voice, gaze drifting out the window. You find yourself smiling as you look at Minghao, studying his profile for a moment. After a beat of silence he speaks up again.

"He's lucky to have you in his life." Your grin immediately widens,

"Damn right he is."

Later, when you've both settled into your own little routines to pass the time, you find yourself thinking — he hadn't said someone like you. He'd just said you. And you may be overthinking it, but it makes your heart flutter, nonetheless.

Jun arrives in the early afternoon having stopped for lunch along the way, and by the time he’s exiting the car Joy and Yeri are pulling into the driveway behind him. You throw your phone down onto the couch and run to the door to greet everyone, waving excitedly. Jun, despite not knowing you very well, is the first to run up and accept your hug, the girls quickly joining in to make it a group endeavor. With a sigh you let go of them all, ushering them into the house.

"Mingyu, be a man and carry the bags in," you say, linking arms with Joy and Jun, Yeri clinging to the former. Mingyu takes a step back to avoid the chain of people flooding through the door.

"I'm not the only man here!"

"Then be the manliest man," Jun jokes. Minghao waves from the stairs, laughing as he watches the four of you trying to maintain your chain as you take your shoes off.

"Where's Mingyu?" Minghao asks.

"Proving his worth," you reply, earning a laugh from him.

"Who am I sharing a room with?" Jun asks, and you shrug.

"Don't know, but it's not me. I paid for that master room!" you say.

"I'm calling dibs on Joy as my roommate!" Yeri chimes in, and you roll your eyes.

"That was the plan anyways, Yeri—"

"I know, I just needed to make sure everyone else knew it!"

As the four of you make your way into the living room, laughing and chattering, Minghao makes the rest of his way down the stairs.

"Need help?"

"Yes!" Mingyu cries, dragging the luggage through the doorway. Minghao chuckles and takes a suitcase in each hand, making his way back into the house.

"Alright, baggage claim is in the dining room," Minghao calls, and as he comes into the living room you watch the others leave. You flop onto the carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling as you listen to their footsteps eventually making their way upstairs.

"Resting after a hard day's work, I see."

"Shh." You press a finger to your lips, closing your eyes as you hear Minghao take a seat beside you. "I took care of the booking and planning, Mingyu does the manual labor. Fair trade."

"Mm. A match made in heaven." You scrunch your nose up in disgust, opening your eyes to fix the lanky boy with an accusatory glare,

"That makes it sound romantic. Try again." Minghao raises an eyebrow, letting out a laugh,

"Teamwork makes the dream work?"

"Better," you say with a nod. It seems as though Minghao is about to say something else, but suddenly Joy calls down the stairs,

"Are you guys going swimming with us?" You look over at Minghao as you sit up, offering a shrug.

"When in Rome," you say, more to him than to Joy. You stand up from your seat on the floor and shoot Joy a thumbs up; she flashes you a broad smile before running back up the stairs. Although Minghao hadn't done more than smile amusedly at your statement, you hear him behind you as you leave the living room — although you simply head down the hallways to your room while he goes upstairs.

After changing into your swimsuit you make your way out onto the porch to slather on sunscreen. Given your prime location and the fact that you've already unpacked all your things, you manage to be the first one out, followed shortly by Minghao and Mingyu.

"Get my back?" you ask, holding the tube out to the first person on the porch. Mingyu eyes it.

"Only if you get mine."

"Deal." Minghao lingers by the door, and you wave him over in front of you, squeezing sunscreen into your palm before passing the tube to Mingyu.

Although you had waved him over like it was nothing, you felt almost immediately embarrassed touching Minghao so casually. It isn't exactly a regular occurrence for you, putting sunscreen on a boy's back.

A cute boy's back.

You try not to think about it too much as you rub the sunscreen in, but when Minghao curls his shoulders forward slightly to make the plane of his back more flat and even for you, you find yourself mesmerized by the way his skin glistens under the bright sunshine. His skin is a warm but light tone, like honey in color and just as smooth. You hesitate for a moment, hands lingering near his shoulder blades, only shaken from your stupor when Mingyu announces that he's done and needs someone to do his back. Hurriedly, you clear your throat, rubbing the last of the sunscreen into Minghao's back in quick circles.

"Done," you announce, softer than you meant to. You barely see Minghao's grateful smile before turning around to Mingyu, trying desperately to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. Maybe you can just blame it on the sun…

Thankfully, the porch is soon crowded with the rest of your friends, all laughing and talking. Joy pulls her hair up into a bun and turns her back to you expectantly almost as soon as you finish with Mingyu's back, and although you roll your eyes you oblige.

Once all of you are properly covered with sunscreen — a fact which Mingyu is sure to double check before letting you all off the porch — you make your way down the beach.

The back porch leads off directly into the sand, although the path to the beach itself is too narrow for you all to walk in anything other than a single file line. That, of course, doesn't stop the conversation from flowing between you all as you follow Mingyu's lead down to the beach. You find yourself acutely aware of Minghao directly behind you, suddenly conscious even of the way you walked, wondering what his sharp gaze might notice about you.

You're snapped out of these thoughts once again by Mingyu — although this time it's out of reflex. Being his friend so long has made you finely attuned to his clumsy ways, and you register him tripping over his own flip flops almost before it even happens, quickly reaching out to grab his elbow. At first, you're so focused on saving your friend from falling flat on his face that you don't notice someone has taken hold of you as well, helping to provide a counterweight for you and your much taller friend.

Mingyu rights himself and chuckles awkwardly under the teasing remarks, flashing you a grateful smile. You glance back at Minghao just as he pulls his hand away.

"Thanks," you say, feeling oddly bashful. Minghao sweeps his windswept bangs out of his eyes, smiling.

"No problem." You stare for a moment too long before nodding and scrambling to catch up with Mingyu just a few steps away, trying to convince yourself that your heart is racing because Mingyu almost broke his nose and not because of a sudden, stupid crush.

It doesn't quite work, but your splashing match with Joy and Yeri takes your mind off of it at least.

The first afternoon with everyone at the beach house is spent in a relaxed state; after returning from the beach, almost everyone took showers and then naps. Unable to sleep, you simply sprawled out on the couch in the living room with a glass of tea and your laptop in your lap. With your earbuds in, just in case anyone decided they wanted to use the television, you caught up on some recent videos you had missed in the bustle of the past couple of days.

It isn’t until you’ve exhausted your YouTube subscription tab that you find yourself becoming restless, eager for something to do. You go into your room for your wallet, thinking it might be nice to get some ice cream and just walk along the beach, and then you spot the shell from earlier sitting on the top of the dresser beside it. You examine the hole in it once more, smiling as you remember your morning with Minghao. On a moment of impulse, you start digging through your bag until you finally find the necklaces you had packed — or, well, left in the bag from your last trip and hadn’t bothered to put away. You unclasp them both and let the pendants slip off the chains, replacing one with the shell and clasping the other closed again; the other chain you let pool atop the dresser, fully intending to give it to Minghao later.

Only to find said boy standing outside the door to your bedroom, one fist raised in preparation to knock. The two of you jump slightly at the sight of the other, but you quickly dissolve into laughter with Minghao following shortly behind.

“Hey,” you say. “I thought you were napping.” He shakes his head.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies. “So I was hoping you’d want to go for a walk.”

“Perfect timing,” you chirp. “I was about to go get some ice cream, care to tag along?” Minghao’s expression slips into a grin, and he chuckles,

“Sure, why not.”

He’s already turned and started towards the front door when you remember the chain on your dresser, and you quickly duck back into your room to retrieve it.

“Wait!” you call, and Minghao does so, looking back at you with a puzzled expression. “Do you still have the shell from earlier?” An amused smile once again makes its way across his face as he notices the chain in your hands.

“Yeah, I think so.” After fishing around in the pocket of his jeans, he brandishes the shell. You eagerly hold out your hands for it, passing him the new jewelry item with pride.

“There, now we can match!” You hook your thumb under your own shell to show Minghao, who only chuckles and shakes his head. However, you think you see a faint wash of pink across his cheeks, even though his hair hides some of his face from you as he looks around for his shoes. You watch him for a moment longer, unable to keep from smiling, before finding your own sandals and slipping them on — only to realize you left your phone in your room.

“I’ll be right back!”

As you dart back to your bedroom, Minghao takes the chain and wraps it twice around his wrist, fashioning it into a bracelet. After pulling the shell around to rest atop his wrist, he pulls out his own phone and snaps a picture of it in front of the window, smiling fondly at the image once he’s cropped it and adjusted the coloring. By the time he’s pocketed his phone, you’ve re-emerged with your own. You slip on your shoes again and offer him a breathless grin,

“Ready?”

“Yeah, my treat,” he says, grinning to himself in amusement as he listens to you whine as you follow him out the door.

“Good morning!” you hear from behind you as you’re putting on your shoes. Just the sound of Minghao’s voice is enough to bring a smile to your face as you stand back up fully.

“Do you ever sleep?” Minghao asks teasingly as he makes the rest of his way down the stairs. You shrug,

“What’s the point of a beach-house if you’re not taking walks on the beach?”

“Or photos,” he adds. You step aside to give Minghao room to put his shoes on, shoving your hands in your pockets. While you wait, you lean back and peer out the windows bordering the front door, smiling when you see that the skies are still relatively dark. The two of you will make it out to the coast just in time to see the sunrise. You rock back on your heels as Minghao stands up, opening the door and motioning for him to lead the way.

It’s quiet as you stroll down the driveway of the house, with even the birds remaining quiet prior to the dawn. Minghao’s camera thumps gently against his chest in tandem with his feet falling on the pavement. As the two of you make your way onto the sand towards the water, you let out a sigh and let your gaze fall on the waves.

“You know, it’s kinda nice to have someone to walk with,” you say.

“Is that your way of saying you like my company, Y/N?” Minghao’s grin is annoyingly smug, and you elbow him slightly, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t get too excited,” you say. “Mingyu still has years over you.” He laughs into the wind, and you watch as he begins to slow his steps, looking for a good place to sit down and take photos. You follow him halfway down the coast before he finally stops in his tracks, squinting out at the sea before finally dropping into a squat. You stand beside him, trying to pick out exactly what he’s taking photos of like a game.

However, after barely becoming settled, your hair starts getting in your face, with the wind seeming to change directions every few seconds rendering it impossible for you to keep it out of your eyes. The only sound to disrupt that of the natural seaside is the shutter of Minghao's camera. As your hair once again whips against your eyes, blocking your view, you let out a frustrated grumble and stoop down behind the Chinese boy. He turns curiously to look at you as you bow your head, and you nudge him,

"Stay put and block the wind for me." You rake your fingers down through the strands, twirling them up into a haphazard bun. With a contented sigh you drop back off your heels to sit in the sand beside Minghao. He grins crookedly at you, eyes curved up into amused crescents.

"What?" You ask, noticing his gaze.

"Your hair's a mess," he says. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can manage to form a word Minghao has let his camera fall back against his chest. His long, slender fingers suddenly reach towards your face, gently tucking some hair behind your ears. As his fingertips skim against your jaw you find yourself falling breathless. Minghao leans back, dipping his chin in a nod of satisfaction at his work. You clear your throat and look back out towards the sea, hoping the light of the rising sun masks your blush.

"It was because of the wind," you grumble. Then, after hearing Minghao's shutter go off once again you mutter, "Thanks."

Out of the corner of your eye you see Minghao smiling smugly, and so you shove him with your elbow — though you yourself can't keep a smile off your face. You draw your knees to your chest and cross your arms atop them, dropping your chin atop them.

With a long breath you close your eyes, the backs of your eyelids burning redder than the sunlight on the sea—

And with them closed you don't see where Minghao's camera is suddenly pointed when the shutter goes off, leaving him smiling to himself as he looks at the image.

"We should order a pizza," Joy says, lying back on the living room floor. The half-open window lets the evening breeze into the house, and you watch the fan spinning in lazy circles above your heads.

"Ooh, and beer! Do we have beer?" Yeri chimes in, looking towards you. You shrug and jerk your chin towards Mingyu.

"Ask the chef," you say, earning a playful glare from him.

“Fine by me!” Mingyu pipes up, “You all have bottomless pits for stomachs anyways, feeding you is a hassle.”

“But you still love us, right?” Jun asks, and you bat your lashes exaggeratedly at Mingyu,

“Yeah, you still love us, right, mom?”

“Shut up, no child of mine would behave like you do. Or be as ugly,” Mingyu whines, throwing a pillow in your direction. You catch it with a laugh, wrinkling your nose in amusement.

“Mm, you’re right — with your genetics, they’d be even uglier.” Joy and Yeri break into giggles at your words, Jun following suit and Minghao snickering alongside them. Your best friend glares at everyone in the room, folding his arms across his chest with a huff.

“You guys are gonna have to order pizza every night from now on! Such ungrateful children.”

“Alright, someone find a local place that delivers!” Yeri demands, clapping her hands together as everyone continues to laugh at Mingyu’s expense. Minghao pats his shoulder, still chuckling however, as Joy lifts her phone above her face announcing,

“On it!”

The next few minutes pass in a whirlwind of chatter, everyone pitching in their ideas about what pizzas should be ordered until finally your group settles on three — and play through multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors to determine who’s going to get the beer.

“Here, Mingyu, here’s the money — remember, at least four packs, okay?”

“I hate you all!” he grumbles, but he shoves the money in his pocket regardless as all of you swarm around him, forcing him out the door.

It’s only once you’re all at least a few drinks deep, reclining in the living room full with your stomachs full of pizza, that Yeri suddenly sits up from where she’d been leaning against Joy’s shoulder and makes the animated suggestion:

“We should play truth or dare!” When nobody disagrees with her, she picks up her half-empty bottle of beer and downs the rest before setting it down on its side in front of her. The rest of you shuffle into an approximation of a circle, lopsided and elliptical at best, watching intently as Yeri spins the bottle for the first time.

It lands on Mingyu, who’s still sober enough to take one look at Yeri’s devious grin and choose truth. The game goes on for what seems like forever, and by the time it’s Yeri’s turn to spin again your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much. Breathlessly, you lean against Minghao’s side and watch the bottle spin around, ooh-ing dramatically with the rest of your friends when it lands on Joy.

“Dare,” Joy says without even being asked, looking confidently at Yeri. The youngest grins with the same degree of confidence, smugly announcing,

“I dare you to stare into the eyes of the most attractive person here for as long as possible without reacting!” Your drunken selves all lean in to see Joy’s reaction, which is in exaggerated pout.

“How am I supposed to compete with myself?”

“Yah!” Yeri cries, swatting at the tall girl’s shoulder as Joy dissolves into laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Joy finally says, pushing at Yeri’s hands. “Since you came up with it, why don’t we compete?” Yeri tips her chin up confidently, and you scramble for your phone as the two girls shift so they’re facing one another.

“I have the timer,” you say, before counting down for the competition to start. Barely fifteen seconds pass before Joy begins to slip into a smile, causing your small group to break into disappointed groans.

“Come on, did you even try?” Mingyu laments, and Joy narrows her eyes at him,

“Are you saying you could do better?”

“Anyone could do better!” you chime in, and both Joy and Mingyu turn to you.

“Then let’s all try it,” Yeri suggests, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Everyone find a partner, and we’ll each have a timer. Losers have to clean up!”

You turn to look at Minghao who’s seated beside you, and he offers you a smile as the both of you reposition yourselves. Joy demands a rematch against Yeri, leaving Jun and Mingyu as partners. Once everyone has their stopwatches at the ready and poker faces on, the competition begins, the only sound in the room is the faint music you’d almost forgotten was playing off the smart TV. A new music video starts up as you stare into Minghao’s eyes, and you find yourself lost in the swirls of color reflected there, the bright reflections from the television making his eyes kaleidoscopic.

It’s Jun and Mingyu who end up losing, with Jun taking advantage of Mingyu’s obvious embarrassment by leaning in closer and closer to the tall boy until he falls onto his back on the floor.

“Yah, why were you so close to me?” Your best friend cries, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep from smiling. It proves futile, however, once Jun begins laughing, and you find yourself giggling. You catch a glimpse of Minghao’s smile as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. He shifts his opposite arm to tap the stop button on the stopwatch app, and silence falls over the room once more for a few seconds. With your eyes closed, you focus on the rhythm of Minghao’s breathing, all other sounds slipping away.

Joy’s victorious cries eventually cause you to lift your head, and you turn to watch her as she excitedly announces the new time — just over one minute. Yeri pouts as Jun affectionately pats her head, and you notice Mingyu is still lying down, one arm laid over his eyes. You lie down on your side, snickering when you see through the gap that his eyes are closed; he’d managed to fall asleep. Of course, being his best friend, you’re quick to point out to everyone that he’s totally passed out, prompting Jun to sneak towards the kitchen in search of a marker. Joy and Yeri follow in search of more beer from the fridge, and you roll onto your back, watching the shadows play across the ceiling for a moment as Minghao stands up to stretch his back and legs. You hear the gentle fluttering of the curtains and feel overcome with a sudden desire to see the ocean once again. Looking up at the Chinese boy, you can’t help but smile, and make the decision to take him along on your little field trip.

"I need fresh air," you declare before rolling onto your stomach and pushing yourself up onto your knees. You hear Minghao huff out a laugh under his breath as he reaches a hand down to help you up, which you accept. The room tilts slightly, and you let out a short laugh as you lean into him, forcing him to bear your weight as he leads you out the back door. Although you’re sure he expects you to stay on the porch, you move immediately towards the stairs. You jump down into the sand, laughing as the grains seem to spring up around your feet. Minghao follows behind you, less energetically. Eventually, you both sit down a few yards from the house, in view of the waves.

You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your crossed arms. The night air is humid as it rolls off the sea, but not quite warm, leaving your skin feeling sticky yet covered in goosebumps. Out of the corner of your eye you see Minghao pulling out his phone and aiming the camera towards the moon where it shines into the water. You find your gaze drawn to him like the tides to that silvery orb, unable to keep from smiling as you tilt your head to the side. With your cheek pressed against your folded arms you watch him snap photo after photo. After a moment you close your eyes, trying to breathe in time with the waves as they crash along the shore, the only other sound that of Minghao’s phone camera going off intermittently.

"You like taking photos of the beach, don't you?" you say without thinking, cracking one eye open and watching as he pushes his bangs back out of his eyes. Minghao lets out a laugh that's more of a breath than anything,

"I like taking photos of anything beautiful." You giggle, the laughter fading into a sigh as you sprawl out onto your back in the sand. With less alcohol you know that you would be annoyed by the feeling of it sticking to your skin, tangling in your hair — but that's a problem for sober you, morning you. For now, you find yourself content with looking up at the sky. It's cloudless, probably the best view of the stars you've had in years. You can see when Minghao turns his phone off again, plunging you both into darkness.

"Minghao," you say, drawing out the last syllable as far as possible. You like the feeling of saying his name, the openness of it, the smoothness as it rolls off your tongue. The stars above look like they're moving, spinning in lazy circles.

"Hm?"

You watch the spinning stars, laughing a little to yourself. With a sigh, you pull your gaze back down to earth, focusing on Minghao's face. Even with the alcohol in your system, his features are sharp, distinct, attractive.

"I think you're the coolest person I know."

He might be smiling. But before you can say anything more about it, a breeze blows off the water, spewing sand onto your face. You let out a squeal and scramble onto your feet. The sand seems to give way beneath them the moment you stand, but as you dip sideways you find yourself in Minghao's ready arms. He holds onto you for a moment, looking you over for any sign of injuries, and you lock your gaze onto his face. Center yourself. Once he's confident you're not going to keel over, he loosens his grip on you.

"Come on," he says, finally, sighing. "Let's go inside."

Without a word, Minghao takes your hand. Your fingers lace together naturally, and you focus on the warmth of his palm compared to the cool night wind, smiling broadly and unabashedly as you follow him back up onto the porch.

“By the way,” he says, pausing before pulling the sliding door open to let you back in. “I think you’re pretty cool too.” You giggle.

“Is that your way of saying you like me?”

Minghao holds your gaze, and you feel your breath catch in your throat for a moment. But he doesn’t say a word, just gives your hand a squeeze and offers you a playful, mysterious smile before opening the door and pulling you back into the room where Jun is drawing what he calls catstronauts on Mingyu’s arms. As you take a seat, trying not to laugh too loud, Minghao leaves his hand in yours, and the smile remains on your face for the rest of the night.

#caratwritersclub #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop texts #kpop writing #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #my writing

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malarkay · 3 years

Text

To Walk With Dreams and Darkness

Chapter two up! For the perusal of the two of you who are actually seeing this and, presumably, reading it. Thanks, gatorkid509 and yami268!

Chapter 2: Goodbyes and Greetings

Piper pushed her eggs around her plate as she tried to decide how to tell her family about her being magical. "Hey, eat up," Robert told her as he deposited a pancake onto her plate and dusted it with confectioner sugar. "Florence said the train leaves at 11:00 sharp, with or without you on it."

"I'm just not very hungry," she told him as he gave Finn and Aaron each a pancake before returning to the stove to get a new batch from Agatha. She had barely finished her sentence before Finn snatched the pancake from her plate. "Hey!"

"What? You said you aren't hungry. I am!"

"Finn, we do not steal food off other people's plates in this house," Agatha chided from where she was pouring the last bit of batter into the pan.

"But she didn't want it!"

"Yes, I did!"

"You're only saying that because I took it!"

"It's a pancake! Of course I wanted it!"

"Then don't say you're not hungry!"

"You don't have to be hungry to eat a pancake!"

"It helps!"

Beside Finn, Aaron just shook his head slowly as he quietly ate his own breakfast. Robert came back and gave her two pancakes, then added another one to Aaron's plate.

"What about me?"

Robert gave Finn 'The Look' and waited.

"May I please have another pancake?"

"Yes, you may, thank you for asking so politely," Robert told him, giving him one more. He added the rest to his own plate while Agatha came to join them with her own.

"Are you excited, Piper?" she asked.

"Nervous."

"That's understandable. I think everyone is feeling a bit out of sorts this morning," Agatha said, looking at Finn, whose brow was furrowed in a frown as he shovelled food into his mouth.

"You're going to be just fine," Robert said. "People are going to love you."

She smiled at him, and breakfast finished up without any further arguments.

Ms Davies arrived a little after 9:00 and pulled her aside as Robert loaded her things into the boot of their car. "Have you told them?"

"Not yet. I didn't want them to think I was crazy, so I thought I'd wait until we get to King's Cross Station. If what Professor Skeelur told me about how to get onto the platform is right, then there's no denying that magic is real when they see it for themselves."

"Well, you're not wrong about that," Ms Davies agreed.

All six of them couldn't fit into one car, so they split up for the ride to King's Cross. She and Aaron went with Ms Davies, while the Wrights took Finn with them.

"Promise me you'll write," Aaron told her as they drove.

"Of course I'll write," she assured him.

"Every week."

"I'll do my best, as long as you do the same."

"I will. And if you have any problems with any of the other kids and you can't handle it, not that you won't be able to handle it, but if you can't, let me know. I'll come up there, and I'll deal with them!"

She laughed.

"I mean it!"

"I know you do. That's very sweet, but I don't think you're going to have to."

Once at King's Cross, they reunited with the others. "Where'd you put your ticket, Piper?" Robert asked her. "We need the platform number."

"Um, about that," Piper said, pulling her ticket out of the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. "There's something you need to know first."

"You're having second thoughts?" Finn asked.

"No. It's just the school I'm going to; it's no ordinary school."

"Pfft, okay, we knew that already. It's for super-smart kids like you," Finn said dismissively.

"Not exactly. It's, well, it's easier if I show you. We need to get to Platform 9 ¾."

She watched for their reactions. Robert and Agatha exchanged concerned glances before looking to Ms Davies for confirmation. Aaron looked confused while Finn laughed. "Good one, Piper. Seriously, is it platform 9 or 10?"

"Platform 9 ¾," Ms Davies confirmed. "You have to run at the wall that separates platforms 9 and 10."

"I'm sorry? Florence, we've known each other a long time, but this sounds absurd," Robert said.

"You want us to run into a wall?" Agatha asked.

"No, I want us to run through a wall."

The Wrights still looked rightfully sceptical, so Piper spoke up. "Let's just go, and then Aaron, Finn and I will show you."

Robert shook his head but gestured for her to lead the way. "Alright, but I really don't want to spend the rest of the day in hospital while the three of you get patched up."

For their parts, Aaron and Finn looked excited at the prospect of either running through or into a brick wall. When they got to the column between the two platforms, they backed up to give themselves a good running start. "Okay, on the count of three," Aaron said. "One."

"You're really not even a little bit hesitant?" she asked them.

"No, we trust you. Two."

"This is the stupidest thing we've done all week!" Finn said, grinning.

She glanced over to her foster parents. Agatha was shielding her eyes from what she must assume would be imminent disaster. Robert stood with a hand covering his mouth, looking perplexed.

"Three!"

They raced each other to the column, and when they reached the brick, there was a moment of darkness as they passed through, and then they were on the other side. The platform was packed with families seeing their children off to school. On the tracks behind them was the Hogwarts Express, an impressive-looking steam locomotive, all shiny red and black and looking brand new even though she had read that it was 150 years old.

"Awesome!" Finn yelled, drawing several eyes toward them. "This…this is magic! You're magic?"

"I'm magic!"

"The school you're going to is a magical school?"

"Yes."

"That's so cool! And unfair! Why can't we be magic, too?"

"It's a rare gift," Ms Davies said from behind them. They turned to see that she and the Wrights had made the journey through the platform. The Wrights were looking around as if they thought they were having a shared nervous breakdown.

"Aww."

"By the way, the school isn't named Saint Cyprian's," Piper explained to the Wrights and Aaron while Finn was busy pouting. "It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When you write, just put my name and the school's name on the envelope and drop it into the post. Professor Skeelur said it will get to me."

"I don't understand. That professor didn't look like a wizard," Agatha said faintly.

"To be fair, Ag, Piper doesn't look like a witch," Robert replied.

"None of them do," Aaron said, looking around. "Aren't witches supposed to be green? With warts?"

A girl a few years older than them shot him a dirty look as she passed, shaking her head. "Bloody stupid Muggles," she muttered under her breath.

Piper crossed her arms, "That's just in the movies."

"They do dress kinda funny, though," Finn said, getting over his disappointment.

It was true. While everyone was wearing Muggle clothes, not everyone was doing a very convincing job of it. Most of the kids had managed to pull together a look that wouldn't raise too many eyebrows. The same couldn't be said for the adults. One woman in the crowd was wearing an elaborate ball gown, which wouldn't automatically be a problem except that it was 10:50 in the morning on a Wednesday.

"Well, they do have their own world that's separate from ours," Piper reasoned. "It makes sense they dress a little differently."

"As much as I'd love to stand here and discuss wizard fashion, we better get you and your luggage boarded," Robert said. "The train leaves soon."

Piper nodded and turned to Aaron first, hugging him. "I'm going to miss you," she told him.

"I'm going to miss you, too. But you'll be back for Christmas. And we're going to write each other all the time," he reminded her. "It'll be like you never left!"

She let him go and turned to Finn.

"Well, I'm not gonna miss you even a little," Finn said.

"Good, because I'm not going to miss you either."

"I suppose you expect a hug."

"This is the last time we're going to see each other for the next three and a half months, but I'm not going to twist your arm."

He scoffed and hugged her, surprising her a little with the fierceness of it. She hugged him back just as tightly, and he buried his face in her shoulder. She felt a bit of dampness seep through her shirt. "Are you crying?" she whispered, even as she felt her own eyes start to sting.

"No," he lied.

They broke apart after a long moment, and Aaron threw an arm around Finn's shoulders as she went to hug Agatha goodbye. She even hugged Ms Davies. Once her goodbyes were said, she and Robert went and got her trunk settled into the luggage van. After that, there was nothing left to do but board the train herself.

Students crowded the corridor, congregating to greet old friends or looking for a compartment to settle down in.

She picked her way slowly down the corridor, searching for a seat. The compartments were filling up fast, but she managed to come across one that carried only three occupants, two boys and a girl who all looked to be fellow incoming first years.

"Do you mind if I sit in here?"

The three looked at her appraisingly before exchanging glances, coming to an unspoken consensus. One of the boys, a stocky kid with shaggy brown hair, spoke, "Compartment's full."

She put her hands on her hips, frowning at the blatant lie. If they didn't want her around, the least they could do was have the guts to be honest about it. "It doesn't look full to me."

The group's spokesperson scowled, but it quickly shifted into a grin as he looked over her shoulder and waved to someone behind her. "Lark! Saved you a seat!"

Piper glanced around and spotted the girl from the wand shop. Their eyes met, but if she recognized her, she did a good job of not showing it. "How very thoughtful of you, Alex," she said dryly as she slipped past Piper to join them.

"You know me, always thinking," the boy said. "Besides, I haven't seen you since you've been back. We've got a lot to catch up on." He looked back to the doorway, feigning surprise that Piper was still there. "I thought I already told you that there's no more room. Find somewhere else to be. Oh, and close the door for us on your way out, would you?"

"Close it yourself!" Piper turned on her heels and stormed off. Her departure was met with a chorus of snickers from the group. In her annoyance, she failed to watch where she was going and ended up nearly bowled over a lanky boy with ginger hair.

"Whoa!" He reached out to take hold of her shoulders, steadying them both after their collision. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she snapped and immediately felt terrible. "Sorry I ran into you," she told him more gently.

"It's okay. And are you sure you're fine? Because I might not be if I had to deal with that gang of tossers."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You saw that?"

"Yeah. You're better off, honestly. You don't want to be friends with them."

"You know them?"

"Well, no, not personally," he admitted with a slight frown. "More by reputation. Come on, let's find somewhere to sit, then we can talk more."

She trailed along behind him until he found a compartment that was empty save for a blonde girl.

"Mind if we join you?" he asked her.

"Not at all. I'm Dierdra Macmillan."

"Bill Weasley. And this is," he paused to let Piper introduce herself.

"Piper Cochran," she said, sitting next to Dierdra. Bill sat across from them.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts?" Dierdra asked. They both nodded. "Mine, too. I can't wait! What House do you think you'll be sorted into?"

"My mum and dad were both in Gryffindor," Bill answered. "It wouldn't surprise me if I'm put there."

"My father was in Ravenclaw, my mother in Hufflepuff. But I'm not sure where I'll be placed, honestly."

Piper's face grew hot as they spoke. She curled up in her seat and tried to stay out of the conversation, but Bill had other plans.

"I'd wager Piper is going to be sorted into Gryffindor. You should have seen how she had a run-in with a group of bullies and didn't let them intimidate her," he grinned.

Dierdra's face twisted as if she'd been force-fed a lemon. "Bet I can guess who you're talking about. Alex Nott and his friends? I saw them earlier."

"Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately. We're distant cousins on our mothers' sides. Not distant enough for our paths to never cross, sadly. He's always been an insufferable prat."

"My condolences."

"Thank you. Anyway, I don't understand why the Ministry is even allowing the children of Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts."

Bill shrugged. "You can't really punish them for what their parents did, can you?"

Piper chewed her lip as curiosity warred with her embarrassment over not understanding what they were talking about. In the end, curiosity won. "What's a Death Eater?"

Dierdra looked at her in surprise before realization lit her face. "Oh, you're Muggle-born! Why didn't you say so? Death Eaters were followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Piper's lack of comprehension must have shown because Dierdra elaborated, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a dark wizard who believed Pure-bloods should rule the world. A lot of good people who disagreed with that died in the war against him."

Piper gaped at her, "There was a war? When?" How could there have been an entire war going on right under their noses, and they had never noticed?

"It went on for practically our whole lives. It just ended last October when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally stopped. As for his followers, a lot of them have been sent to Azkaban."

"And a lot of others managed to lie their way out of trouble," Bill added.

"Or buy their way out of it," Dierdra added with distaste. "And who knows how many others are out there who haven't been caught yet?"

"So those kids back there, you're saying their parents are Death Eaters?"

Dierdra shrugged, "The Ministry suspected Thaddeus Nott of being one. They even put him on trial, but in the end, they couldn't prove it. That's Alex's uncle, though. They never suspected his father, but as someone who has met the man, I can tell you that the odds are good that he was one, too. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"The Cyclonis' definitely were," Bill said. "It was a real shock when that came out after they died. Cyneric Cyclonis had a good reputation within the Ministry. My dad works there, too. He says a lot of people thought it was only a matter of time before he'd run for Minister for Magic and that he'd probably win."

"How'd they die?"

"No one knows. My dad says it was probably You-Know-Who," Bill answered. "He'd do that, sometimes, kill his own followers if they upset him badly enough."

"Was there never an investigation?"

"There was, but…"

"But what?"

"But they were Death Eaters. The Ministry wasn't going to put too much effort into solving the murder of a couple of Death Eaters, no matter how popular they may have been before their secret came out," Dierdra finished bluntly when Bill hesitated.

"That's awful."

"A lot of awful things happened in the war," Dierdra said, in a tone that suggested that the story they had just told her was amongst the least of them.

Piper knew what it felt like to lose both parents. Dierdra may not feel any sympathy toward Lark, but Piper couldn't help it. But the way that Bill and Dierdra spoke made the Death Eaters sound more like terrorists than soldiers in a war. She couldn't make herself feel too bad for Lark's parents in that case. Still, it'd drive her crazy if her parents were murdered, and no one cared enough to find out who did it or why.

"You still with us, Piper?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

"That was a lot of information we hit you with all at once," Bill said apologetically. "I'm sure the school library will have old copies of The Daily Prophet if you want to read up on the war. Some of the stories are pretty bad, though."

Piper nodded, "I'll take a look. I want to be able to understand what people are talking about, after all."

"You'll get used to the wizarding world pretty quickly," Dierdra assured her. "It can't be all that different from the Muggle one, can it?"

Piper laughed. Just from what she'd seen so far, she knew they were very different. "You have no idea."

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Piper looked toward the door where a kindly looking old woman stood with a trolley laden with sweets.

"I brought something from home, thank you," she said.

"Me, too," Bill said.

"What?" Dierdra sounded absolutely scandalized. "Piper, you at least have to get your first chocolate frog." She hopped out of her seat and handed the trolley attendant some money. "Three chocolate frogs, please."

She was handed three fancy looking boxes. She passed one to Piper, one to Bill, and retook her seat with the third.

"Thanks, Dierdra, but you really didn't need to buy us anything," Piper said.

"But I wanted to. Open it up! Each chocolate frog comes with a collectable card."

Piper pulled off the seal that held the box closed and flipped open the lid. As she did, the chocolate frog within leapt right out of the box. She made a grab for it, snatching it out of midair before it could hit the ground.

"Whoa, nice reflexes!" Bill exclaimed.

She held the squirming frog out at arm's length. "Is it supposed to do that?" she yelped.

Dierdra covered her mouth. She was trying not to laugh and not doing a good job of it. "Sorry! I know I should have warned you, but I really wanted to see your reaction."

"The frogs are enchanted," Bill explained with a grin. "They're fine to eat once they stop moving."

Piper tentatively opened her hand. Luckily, the frog's enchantment really had worn off, and she was able to put the now still frog back in the box after retrieving the card.

She looked down at the pentagonal card. A blonde-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned aviator cap and goggles smiled up at her. At the bottom of the card read the name Jocunda Sykes. As she watched, the woman waved and snapped off a little salute.

"They're animated!"

"Well, sure, why wouldn't they be?"

She flipped the card over. There was a little blurb about Jocunda's accomplishments printed there. She was the first witch the fly across the Atlantic Ocean on a broom back in 1935. Piper thought that sounded like a lot of fun.

"Are we going to learn how to fly on a broom at Hogwarts?"

"Of course! Not only that, but if you're any good at it, you can try out for your House Quidditch team."

"Quidditch? Oh! There was a shop in Diagon Alley that had that in its name, but I didn't think to ask what it meant."

Dierdra and Bill grinned at each other.

"You might as well get your lunch out and make yourself comfortable; we've got a lot to talk about."

~*~*~

Talk they did, until some older students came along, walking down the corridor and knocking on doorframes. "One hour to Hogsmeade Station. Time to start thinking about changing into your robes."

Dierdra pointed a finger out into the corridor. "Out, Bill. We'll change first."

Bill went to stand out in the corridor, and Dierdra slid the door closed, pulling down the window shade.

They changed into their uniforms without much chin-wagging, so they didn't keep Bill waiting too long. Piper had to admit that she felt a little silly as she slipped her robes over her uniform.

Once ready, they swapped places with Bill. By the time they were all dressed, the older students were making their rounds again. "Half an hour to Hogsmeade Station! Make sure you have everything you brought with you! The train won't be coming back until the Christmas holiday!"

Before she knew it, the train was pulling into the station. They made their way to the exit and stepped out into the night. The station bustled with activity.

"All luggage and pets over there! They will be brought to your dormitories!"

"Second through seventh years, make your way to the carriages! Four students per carriage, please! We won't have a repeat of last year! Looking at you, fifth-year Gryffindors!"

"Firs' years? Firs' years this way, follow me!"

Piper and the others followed the sound of the last booming voice and discovered that it belonged to an immense man with long dark hair and a beard. He was broad, but more than that, he was tall. Taller by far than anyone she had ever seen before. Twice her height, easily, and then some!

Looking around, she saw many of the others openly gawking at him. So, some things took even wizarding children by surprise. Good to know.

He led them to the edge of a lake, where a small fleet of rowboats waited.

"Alrigh' then, in the boats yeh go!" he told them, overseeing them all. They sat four to a boat. Piper, Bill and Dierdra were joined by a boy who introduced himself as Liam Logue.

Once all the first years settled into their boats, the giant man stepped into one of his own. It creaked loudly under his weight but stayed afloat. His boat moved of its own accord, pulling out in front of all the others, and all the other boats followed.

She looked out over the lake to their destination and inhaled sharply. An expansive castle rose from the craggy shores at the far side of the lake. A gibbous moon rose into the clear, starry skies behind it, casting its glowing reflection into the lake in front of them. It was beautiful. A low murmur of appreciation rippled through the fleet of boats at the view.

As they drew nearer to the castle, the man called out, "Watch yer heads!"

She ducked slightly as the boat glided through an ivy-covered opening in the cliff. They sailed on through an underground tunnel before coming to a stop on a rocky shore. They climbed out and followed the man up a flight of stone steps to a heavy wooden door. The man knocked three times, loudly, and the door swung open.

They followed him into a large entry hall, coming to a stop in front of a strict looking woman with her black hair pulled into a tight bun.

"Professor McGonagall," the man greeted. "The new firs' years for yeh."

"Thank you, Hagrid," the woman replied. "Follow me," she said to them. She led them across the large entrance hall, stopping before another large door.

She turned to address them. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. But first, there are a few things you should know. There are four houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each of you will be sorted into one of these houses, where you will remain throughout your years here. Over the course of the year, you will have many opportunities to win your house points. Any misbehaviour, however, may lead to the deduction of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Now then, are you all ready?"

They all nodded, and Professor McGonagall pushed open the doors, striding into the Great Hall beyond. They trailed after her, and Piper stared in wonder. Four long tables stretched along the length of the hall, two on each side of the walkway they followed the professor down. Dozens of kids already sat at each table, watching them. At the head of each table hung a banner depicting what she assumed was each house's crest. Green and silver emblazoned with a serpent, blue and bronze with an eagle, scarlet and gold with a lion, and yellow and black with a badger.

Hundreds of candles floated in midair above them, casting a soft flickering glow throughout the hall. The ceiling, well, she wasn't sure there was a ceiling. It looked exactly like the night sky had outside. Even the phase of the moon was the same.

Upon a raised dais, at the front of the hall, sat another long table where the teaching staff sat. She spotted Professor Skeelur amongst them and tried not to gawk. His hair was styled into a tousled quiff; the long top section dyed green while the shorter sides were purple. Even his goatee was purple. He was dressed in robes, black with silver trim on the outside, but with a violently fluorescent lime green lining that glared out from the inside of his hood and sleeves. She could just imagine the look on her foster mother's face if he had shown up to their house looking like that. Aaron and Finn would think it was the wickedest thing ever, though. She felt a twinge at the thought of them. She really wished they could be here, too.

In front of the table, right in the centre of the dais, sat a stool with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat sitting atop it. The hat looked ancient and worn, and she wondered what purpose it served in all of this.

Professor McGonagall led them right up to the steps leading up to the dais before climbing the steps herself to stand behind the stool.

An expectant silence fell over the hall, and after a moment, the hat began to sing. Because, of course it did.

Before I Sort you all tonight, there's one thing to make clear,

A note to both the tall and small that I find apt this year.

When Godric, Helga, Rowena and Salazar began,

They joined forces to achieve their illustrious grand plan.

For all four were well aware that they could not unaided,

See their great ambition reached; they were not yet so jaded.

So all together they succeeded in their common quest,

To build a school that the wizarding world would name the best.

And while it's true that each had certain values that they sought,

When it came time to fill these halls, it's everyone they taught.

So, while it is my job to place in Ravenclaw the wise,

And make sure that it is the true that Hufflepuff comprise,

And while in Gryffindor it is that boldness must reside,

And into Slytherin go those whose aspirations guide,

I bid you to remember that united we are strong,

And don't forget that each and every one of you belongs.

"When I call your name, come up and take a seat on the stool," Professor McGonagall said once the hat fell silent. She retrieved a scroll of parchment from a pocket in her robes, unrolled it, and called the first name.

"Agarwal, Arjun."

A nervous-looking boy wearing a black turban climbed the steps and took a seat, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. They all waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen next. They weren't kept waiting long. About fifteen seconds later, the hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

The kids at the yellow and black table broke into applause, and the boy smiled and hopped off the stool to join them.

She watched as the same scene played out for a couple more kids, and then the professor called out, "Avery, Josephine."

Piper frowned. She recognized the plump, bespectacled girl as part of the group that had rebuffed her on the train.

Less than ten seconds went by before the hat yelled, "Slytherin!"

The green and silver table burst into loud applause as she joined them.

"Boo!" someone called from the scarlet and gold table, and Professor McGonagall shot them a look that Piper was very happy to not be on the receiving end of.

"Decorum, ladies and gentlemen," the professor said sharply. "This is your one reminder! Brimble, Claudia."

"Gryffindor!"

That was met with riotous celebration by the scarlet and gold table.

Bryne, Elliott and a pair of twins by the name Cadwallader all went to Hufflepuff. And then...

"Cochran, Piper.'

She slowly mounted the steps and sat on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, and the brim slipped down over her eyes, obstructing her view of the Great Hall.

She nearly jumped when a voice spoke to her. 'Let's see what's in this head of yours, shall we? Hmmm, interesting. You're quite intelligent, aren't you? I see a great deal of curiosity. You're studious and creative. You'd do very well in Ravenclaw. Very well, indeed.'

She waited for the hat to shout that out to the rest of the room. Instead, the hat spoke again.

'Not so fast. I'm not done with you yet. There's more here. I see bravery. I see a desire to do the right thing. You're someone who won't tolerate injustice when you see it, who won't back down from a fight. Fine traits in a Gryffindor.'

Again, she waited for the hat to make its announcement, and again it did not.

'I haven't decided yet. You're a difficult case. I believe you'd excel in either house. But what about you? What do you think?'

'I don't know,' she thought to the hat. 'I don't know enough about either house to decide.'

'You don't need to know anything about them. You just need to know yourself. What matters to you?'

'I don't know!' she thought, frustrated. 'I want...'

'Yes?'

'I want to feel like I'm part of something, like a team or a family. I already miss mine. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about learning magic. Really, really excited! But I worry I'll end up too homesick to enjoy it.'

'I see. Each house is like a family to its members, but it is true that some form closer bonds than others. Of the four, Ravenclaw is the most individualistic. And so, I believe, the matter is settled.'

"Gryffindor!"

The hat was pulled off her head, and she made her way to the cheering Gryffindor table.

"I told you!" Bill said as she passed him, and they grinned at each other.

She found a place to sit at the table, getting handshakes and backslaps from everyone within arm's reach. She couldn't stop smiling as she turned her attention back to the sorting.

"Coventry, Maximus."

That did make her smile falter a bit. The scrawny kid with dark, curly hair who took his place on the sorting stool was the other silently judgmental boy from the train. It came as no surprise to her when the hat called out, "Slytherin!"

"Everyone is getting sorted so fast," she commented to an older girl who sat next to her. "When I was up there, it felt like it took forever!"

"You actually were up there for a while," the girl told her. "Close to two minutes. Some people aren't as easy for the hat to figure out as others. It's not a bad thing. The hat wants to make sure you end up in the house that's right for you. I don't think I'd trust it if it sorted everyone in five seconds."

"I suppose that's true," Piper conceded as she turned her attention back to the ceremony.

"Cyclonis, Larkspur."

Piper expected her to be sorted as quickly as the Coventry boy, but ten seconds passed, and the hat remained silent. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. A minute. It was a minute and a half before the hat made its decision.

"Slytherin!"

"See?" the older girl told her reassuringly. "It's not uncommon."

The sorting went on for some time. Their boat mate Liam went to Hufflepuff. Dierdra ended up in Ravenclaw. Alexander Nott landed in Slytherin. Eventually, the group was whittled down to three.

"Weasley, William."

The hat had scarcely settled on his head before it declared, "Gryffindor!"

He took a seat across from her and smiled. "Mum and Dad will be happy."

Winters, Gideon was sorted into Hufflepuff and Woodlock, Aisling into Ravenclaw. And with that, the sorting was complete.

The stool and hat were replaced with an elaborate owl lectern, and a man stepped up to address the room. He looked exactly how she expected a wizard to look. He was a tall, thin man draped in midnight blue robes, with long white hair and a long beard. He studied them through gold-framed, half-moon glasses.

"I'd like to start with a brief announcement. As many of you may have already noticed, Professor Skeelur has returned to us. He will not be resuming his role as Divination professor, however, as Professor Trelawney will be staying on in that position. Instead, he will be taking over the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Professor Skeelur stood and gave a jaunty bow as the students applauded.

"Now then, for those of you who may not know, I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school, and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to a new year at Hogwarts. You know, I've always found the beginning of a new school year to be a magical time, a time of new beginnings and new possibilities. And this year, I feel it even more keenly. We have been through tumultuous times in recent years. For some of you, that is all you've ever known. But we have weathered that storm. Those days are behind us now, and we are free to look to the future with a renewed sense of hope. And that is what I feel when I look at all of you now. Hope. The hope that we can help guide you into becoming the best possible versions of yourselves. You are the future of the wizarding world, and it is my fervent wish that your future is a bright one, one full of peace, and prosperity, and progress. That is the world you deserve to know."

He paused, letting his words sink in as his gaze slowly swept across the hall.

When he spoke again, his tone was more light-hearted, "But that's enough talk for one night. Enjoy the feast!"

With those words, a multitude of steaming serving bowls and platters laden with food appeared in the centre of the table.

She helped herself to a slice of roast beef and one of baked ham, roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary, Yorkshire pudding, peas and glazed carrots and tucked in for a night of good food and conversation.

She discovered that the older girl she had spoken to during the sorting was a fifth-year prefect named Cathy Wells. She assured Piper and the other first years within earshot that they could come to her with any questions or concerns.

She also learned that two other first years at the table were Muggle-born and just as excited as she was to be here learning real magic. Connor Monohan was from Wexford, Ireland, while Edgar Grant was from Leeds. When they found out that she was from Brixton, they wanted to know all about her experience with the riots from the previous summer. Her foster parents had kept her and her brothers well clear of the violence, but she told them what she could of those days and their aftermath. The conversation fascinated the wizarding kids, who didn't seem to grasp the concept of racial tension until one of the older Muggle-born students compared it to Pure-bloods versus Muggle-borns. That had everyone chiming in with their own stories from that same summer. Apparently, the Death Eaters had been particularly emboldened in the months leading up to You-Know-Who's downfall.

Cathy only let the conversation get so far before she steered it away from the grim turn it had taken. No one complained.

The dinner dishes vanished as Bill told them funny stories of his five little brothers and baby sister. In their place, an entire spread of pudding appeared. Being stuffed from dinner didn't stop her from taking a slice of Victoria sponge cake.

About half an hour later, all the plates disappeared. Professor McGonagall, who Piper had learned was both Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor, announced that it was time for the prefects to lead their houses to the dormitories.

Piper followed Cathy out of the Great Hall and off to the staircases. "Pay attention," Cathy instructed them. "The staircases change, and you don't want to get lost on the way to Gryffindor Tower later when you're all on your own."

Sure enough, as Piper watched, some of the staircases overhead shifted from one landing to another. "We're this way," Cathy pointed out before mounting the steps. "Seventh floor."

She led them up several flights of stairs and down a hallway to another spiral staircase that led to a large landing where a portrait of a large woman hung on the wall.

"The Fat Lady guards our common room entrance," Cathy explained.

"Password?" the portrait requested.

"Frabjous day!"

"Callooh! Callay!" the Fat Lady replied with a delighted laugh, and the portrait swung open to reveal a round door that opened into a circular common room. The room was warm and cosy, with a fire roaring in a large fireplace. A lion portrait hung above the mantle, and the walls were lined with paintings and tapestries in varying shades of red and gold. Overstuffed scarlet chairs and sofas dotted the room. Several long tables could accommodate multiple students for studying, along with smaller side tables that held books or chessboards. Tall windows were spaced in even intervals along the walls. During the day, the common room was sure to be bathed in sunlight. A few nooks and alcoves were cut into the walls, which would lend a small amount of privacy to the few occupants they would allow. Near the door stood a message board. Cathy explained that they could find announcements such as Quidditch tryouts, club meeting schedules, and changes to the common room password posted there.

"First-year girls, follow me. I'll show you to your dorm," Cathy said. "First-year boys, follow Matthew. He'll show you to yours."

She pointed to a blond boy who looked about the same age as Cathy. The boy saluted, "Matt Higgins, at your service."

Bill and the other boys broke away from the group to follow Matt while Piper and the girls followed Cathy up a side staircase to a room that housed five four-poster beds in a circle around the room, each bed draped with heavy scarlet curtains. Their trunks were placed at the end of the beds for them, and they each had a plain wooden chair and nightstand of their own.

"Breakfast is served in the Great Hall from 6:30 to 8:30. You'll get your class timetable at breakfast tomorrow. Classes begin at 9:00. Whatever you do, don't be late! We don't want to start the year with negative house points. Curfew is between 9:00 PM and 6:00 AM, except when you have astronomy. Other than that, no wandering the castle in the middle of the night. It's against the rules, but besides that, it's dangerous. Lights out at 10:00. Bathrooms are one flight up the stairs we took to get here. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads no.

"Well then, sleep well!"

With that, Cathy left them to their own devices. They chatted as they prepared for bed. Her dormmates were Claudia Brimble, Maeve McCarver, Catriona Taggart, and Jocasta Erskine. None of them were Muggle-born, although Claudia and Catriona both had one non-magical parent, so the Muggle world wasn't a completely foreign concept to them. They all seemed friendly, and Piper thought they would probably get on well enough during their time here.

"We should probably get to sleep soon," she said as she laid out her uniform for the following day. "Like Cathy said, we don't want to be late."

The others agreed, and soon they were all tucked snugly into bed for the night.

#storm hawks #storm hawks fanfic #storm hawks aerrow #storm hawks finn #storm hawks piper #Cyclonis #arygyn the skeelur #crossover fanfic

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abizarreyodelingincident · 4 years

Text

Linked Universe: Regrets

“Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after... At last, I have eased my regrets.”

Twilight had never forgotten those words. He had carried them with pride. Used them when his hands faltered. Remembered the strength that had been taught to him. Swords without courage meant nothing. With the lessons of the Hero's Shade, Twilight struck down Hyrule's greatest enemy for good.

(He thought. But there would be another after him, long after, but one nonetheless, and he would suffer greatly from the shadow of Hyrule's first enemy.)

Nowadays, it's a white lie that haunts his nights.

“Link... I... See you later.”

He's learned when things aren't meant to be. And he loves his fellow heroes. Wouldn't trade them for peaceful days wandering his Hyrule. He loves them. Like brothers. Like another father. But he knows it can't last. Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. And theirs... through time and space... there will be no reunion after they've completed this quest.

He should shield his heart better, but they slip past too easily for that. One day, they'll go their separate way. He can't change that. Still, any time he looks at the old man, his heart squeeze and he just wants to help. To save him. He can't.

Is it like that for anyone else? Does Hyrule hide something like this from Legend behind all his sweet smiles and his eagerness to learn? Does he also think of a nameless grave by a tree? Maybe a grand mausoleum, because it's Legend, and he's earned at least this much, to hear him speak of his many trials?

He smirks to himself at the idea, but it slips soon enough.

Four? No one's quite sure where he fits in the timeline, but the best guess is 'early'. Wind? No, he's said the legends exist, but the hero never showed. Warriors thinks it's the timelines diverging when Time returned to his youth to prevent Ganon's rise. He's another odd one out. Knowing a bit of everything and everyone's legacy. Does Warriors know how it'll end for me?Wild certainly doesn't.

The truth is Twilight knows that Time will never be fully content despite Malon, despite a future as a father, and he hates the fact that he cannot save his mentor. Cannot prevent that regret from taking root in him. He's only ever known that he hated leaving his Hyrule defenseless, with no one to learn from the hardships he was shoved into as a child.

Twilight hates it so much. Sometimes, Zant's pendant pulsed with the dark emotions that want to choke him up. He almost wonders if there isn't something right in the ranting of the old usurpers. The Goddesses were so many things, but kind?

It's hard to remember their blessings when the people you love most see their fate as cursed. When Hyrule is doomed without that pain.

“Green rupee for your thoughts?” Warriors ask, watching the sun set over the horizon.

“I know I'm country folk, but we ain't that cheap, Captain,” Twilight drawls.

Warriors shrugs, then pulls his sword out to run a whetstone over its edge. “Well, I'm broke. My queen and I hadn't thought it'd stretch out over this long.”

The thought sobers Twilight, who is decidedly not looking dusk painting the sky like a bonfire. “Miss her?” he says, quieter than usual.

Warriors' glance is a bit sharper than warranted, but he makes no comment about it. “Certainly,” he replies easily. “She was one of the few... mhmm, wait, did I never tell you about my situation back in my era?”

He sees the non-sequitur and accepts it with a sigh of relief. Sitting down by the same tree, he settles just close enough for them to touch shoulders. “No, but I sense this is a long story.”

“It's the perfect length, thank you,” Warriors haughtily counters. “So, it all begins roughly ten years ago-”

Twilight snorts, and pushes his brother roughly. Warriors is agile enough he slips back into place without dropping the sword or the stone, radiating smug triumph.

In the end, he joins Warriors on first watch just to distract himself from his thoughts.

***

Lon Lon Ranch is one of his favorite place to visit. Stepping inside feels like being served a slice of Ordon on a platter. It's a piece of home, without the awkwardness that comes from the odd looks here and there. Unspoken questions about every little way he's changed.

Twilight shakes his head. What's he doing? Somewhat forcefully, he pulls back the sleeves of his tunic and spits in his hands. He's got some work to do, and it's not Legend (who is egging Warriors more than he's shoveling) or Wind (who is having the time of his life learning how to ride with Time's Epona) that'll finish the chores for him.

“Here, sweetheart.” Malon holds out a waterskin to him and a towel. “Don't forget to rest and drink every once in a while. With this sun, it's not healthy to neglect it.”

He accepts gratefully, swallowing a mouthful of cool water first. “I will, Ma'am.”

“Oh, hush with that. It's Malon for family,” she corrects him easily, and he ducks his head, pleased. “And I'll be watching you, sweetheart. The Goddesses know my Link's not one to recognize his limits.”

Time straightens and leans against the handle of his spade. “Now, now, honey, you know I'm a reasonable man.”

“Did I tell you about the time my clever husband decided to renovate the ba-!”

Malon lets out a fake shriek when Time grabs her with his dirt-covered hands. Pretends to fight back. She's not fooling him or her husband. They've both witnessed her handling the cattle. It's not from Time's side of the family that Twilight inherited the strength.

(They're the type of couple that teases each other constantly. He wonders what it would have been like if Midna...)

There's something a little different about Malon today. Something under her skin. Like she was holding on to a secret with both hands and it's threatening to explode the whole time. He wouldn't call her nervous. Excited, though? Yes.

He finds out at dinner.

They've just finished another two course meal courtesy of Malon and Wild when she pulls her husband aside during dessert. It gets a glance or two, but the conversation keeps going on the topic of stupidest things they've ever done. Since it's Wild's turn though, Twilight can still focus on the married couple by the sink.

(It's a sad day when he can name more for Wild than Wild remembers. They've got diverging definitions of what constitutes a 'stupid' thing. He will forever argue against the monster masks, especially the lynel one.)

“I was waiting for a chance to tell you in person. I saw a wisewoman last week.”

“What for...?” Time asks, and he sounds a little anxious for once, hands hovering closer to his wife.

Coy, Malon bites her lips and glances at Twilight. Time has to turn to see where, exactly, she's looking, and his breath hitches when he realizes. His mouth twitch as he grabs both her hands, focused on her with such intensity she giggles.

“You mean...?”

She breaks into a grin, nods and whispers-yells: “Yes! We're going to be parents, Link.”

The kiss he lands on her lips is indecent enough to attract whistles from some of the others, who seem to be clueing in to the excitement in the room. When those two come apart, a pleasant blush colors their cheeks, and he tells her, over and over that he loves her. When he's had his fill, he whirls around to face them and their cheering.

“Boys!” Time calls out, exuberant, absolutely unguarded. “Boys! I'm going to be a father!”

The roof, improbably, resists the eruption of screams. Time's pure joy is contagious and it's the best news they've got since starting this quest. Congratulations rain on the happy couple.

“Someone's going to have competition, huh?” Legend nudges Twilight's ribs, wagging eyebrows.

Normally, Twilight would be flattered that his bond with Time is that obvious. Normally, he'd grab Legend and give him a noogie for his insolence. Make him cry 'uncle'. The classic big brother behavior he's used to. But he barely hears the words as it is, his mind bogged down by a sudden realization.

He stalls.

He's a second delayed in joining in the congratulations, behind Sky and Hyrule who are a little less physical in their affections. They've formed a circle around their leader and his wife, offering their best wishes, joking, patting Time on the back, kissing Malon's cheeks.

And then it's his turn.

Twilight remembers to breath. Offers his hand first.

“Oh, come here, you!” she swats away his hand and forces him into a hug that's warm, soft.

“You'll make a wonderful mother, Malon.”

Her expression shifts slightly, more of a knowing smirk, and he can see her laughter in her eyes. 'Oh, now you tell me.'

It's impossible for him not to smile back.

And below that elation, the flare of hope in his guts, is a heart stopping dread.

***

The next few battles are some of the worst Twilight had to struggle through. The enemies' number swell. Their ambushes turn elaborate with unheard of combinations of monsters that never coexisted naturally. The puppeteer behind them has tightened the strings, and Twilight has trouble keeping his head above water when every second he looks away, he fears his mentor (father) will die.

It's sheer experience and a heaping dose of help from his companions that ensure he's not dead. And even then...

“There, good as new,” Hyrule proclaims, slapping Twilight's bicep for good measure. “Now how about you don't pull a Wild and drop your weapon next time? We're counting on you to teach him caution, not the opposite.”

“Heard you, 'Rule!” Wild protests from where he's helping Four hobble back to them.

“Great, because we all saw that thing with the peahat.”

“It was the only way!”

And here goes the bickering, Twilight huffs. Wild and Hyrule get along like a house on fire, which means that it's warm and toasty for a while until everything collapse into ashes for a bit. Then they rebuild it better and stronger than before with perfect coordination. It's impressive, honestly, how they both push in the same direction without a second thought.

At least this doesn't look like he'll need to turn into a wolf to fetch them in a forest on the other side of a mountain like last time (he's still bitter about it, a mountain?).

“Pup,” Time's voice jolts him back into awareness. His mentor's standing right behind him. “Come with me for a minute?”

For a second, he hesitates. He likes to imagine a thousand explanations for it, but he already knows the one. Sky shot him the odd look during the fight. Saw him sloppier than usual. And Time keeps an even closer look on all of them.

The clearing is just far enough to be away from prying eyes, though not far enough they can't hear the others if they pay attention. Both sides could hear and rush at the first sign of trouble. It's a good place for a talk.

“Twilight,” Time begins, voice brimming with concern, “what's wrong?”

“It's...”

Silence lingers between them, with all the things Twilight can't say.

“Does it have anything to do about Malon's pregnancy?” Time asks, and Twilight cringes. “Ah. I figured as much. Are you bothered?”

Twilight fights the flashback to one of those evenings Rusl took him aside for a fatherly talk. He feels about as small as he did back then too. “No, of course not! It's... before, when I met Malon and saw you two didn't have kids, I realized you were safe. Every one of us is risking his life on this quest, but I could hold onto the idea that you'd live through, that it was impossible that you didn't because I'm here.”

“Were you not worried for my safety before this, Pup?” Time teases, a full on smirk on his face.

Twilight's face burns. “I, no, that's not it at all! It's just... Goddesses, I'm being silly.”

The hand that rests on his shoulder feels solid. Grounding. Like Time means to give him back some of that certainty through sheer force of will.

Twilight's relieved that it works on him.

“Pup, I promise I have no intention of dying and leaving Malon to raise our little hellion all on her own. I wouldn't do that to her.”

“Oh, right, the poor gal,” Twilight hears himself reply.

Time blinks. Then hooks his arm around Twilight's neck, an unholy glint in his good eye. “A youngster like you's too ignorant to mock your elders like this. But I suppose I should teach you.”

***

Time's few additions to the prank war ongoing inside their camps gives Twilight chills.

But he joins in the laughs with the rest of them.

And he almost forgets.

***

They have a lead on the object of their quest.

A location they must investigate. No guarantee, but reports seem promising.

It's hard not to get swept right in by his brothers' enthusiasms. He's found more family through this quest than he had ever hoped to get, but it's also been a mess of ambushes, lost directions and insufferable assholes (some of which, he loves because they're his pack, his siblings, his dad).

“I'll cut the fucker's balls right off!” Wind cheers, which gets nods from Legend and Wild, and winces from Sky and Warriors.

Twilight is more in the 'rip their throat out' camp, but he's also got a unique perspective on how to get personal with killing off your enemies.

(If their quest is to end, he will stand between any number of enemies so that his family returns home safe.)

***

The Temple of Souls.

A place of power, of memories. Deeds commemorated here. Statues of the various chosen heroes during their adventures. Honored and immortalized in stone.

Twilight hesitates before the one statue of a beast, and the imp riding its back. It's a testament to how much the other heroes helped him heal that he mostly feels nostalgia looking at his past. The pain, muted by Wild's enthusiasm or Four's more solemn amusement.

They search through the history of the Hero's Spirit together, with Warriors leading them. Their captain's light-hearted jester attitude's been replaced by his battlefield look. A strategist and a soldier, at the head of a battalion of legends. And yet, there's a tightness to his expression. Twilight gets why and he makes sure to stay close. The sorceress had been reformed, so this world's Zelda said. But the fear's longer lasting.

Time lingers near the statue of the Hero of Time. So do the others, with Warriors deciding to keep watch, since they clearly couldn't deal with the idea of Time having once been a child.

A little kid. Probably not even as tall as Colin or Talo. Twilight tries to imagine letting these two go on a quest to save Hyrule and his mind buckles in protest at the knowledge of what kind of monstrosities can crawl up from the darkest corners of Hyrule. Imagines them in the Arbiter's Ground, and he feels acute pain in his left hand, where he is gripping his sword's hilt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Hylia stole Time's childhood, but Twilight won't let her take his future.

***

They found the enemy.

It found them in return. Hyrule is the first to realize, and it's their wanderer's words that ring in their heads during the worst battle of their lives.

'Impaled by a shadow in my likeness. Everything I gave, he returned right back.'

Dark Link. The other side of the coin. The shadow of the Hero's Spirit, grown with each incarnation.

It is not an opponent for any one hero to take on anymore. Dark Link is the sum of every dark turns their minds have ever taken, every moment of fear, despair, anger. Every dirty trick. Every method of handling a sword. It reflects all nine of them, in turn and at once.

And it means that each one of them know a piece of Dark Link as intimately as the back of their hands.

The battle does not end quickly.

While most encounters with monsters last minutes at most and encounters with bosses sometimes stretch twice or thrice that, this battle goes on for what feels like lifetimes. There's not a thing Twilight knows that he doesn't see at some point in Dark Link's arsenal. He's forced to see his journey thrown back at him, and he only went on a single one.

(He loses both his shield and his sword midway through. Has to join in the sniping until that's destroyed. Breaks two more of Wild's weapons. Fought with fangs and claws till he desperately needed healing.)

They came prepared. Armed with every weapon they have. Overstocked with potions and blessings and fairies.

They're still all exhausted, wounded and little more than dead on their feet when Wild lands the apparent fatal blow with a shock arrow. Electricity dances on the shade, its face a mask of silent agony, and it stumbles, shape unsteady, and sinks back into nothing.

“Is it... is it over?” Wind asks, his shirt shredded and an ugly burn on his collarbone.

“Steady!” Warriors calls out. “It might be trying to trick us.”

They watch every corner of the room with the hard earned hatred of a difficult opponent. They're all on their last leg and they can't keep going much longer. The air's so thick with tension Twilight tastes it. His instinct's screaming at him. He knows, in his heart, that this is it.

(It might be why he looked.)

(None of the others have spent as much time as him watching shadows, longing for the way they might waver and twist and become a beloved companion.)

Time's shadow shouldn't be this inky black.

Time's grip on his sword is also looser than his shadow's.

Twilight breaks into a sprint.

For a long time, Twilight had no choice. No matter what, his old mentor couldn't die before he had children.

Somehow, he'd been naïve enough to find comfort in that. Since then, he's dreamed of Time holding his baby, happier than he had ever dared express before. The memories of years that aged his heart faster than his body no longer a burden in his quiet little corner of the world.

There still isn't a choice. Time must go back to his wife and child. Twilight won't accept any other outcome. He'll turn silly images conjured from his resting mind into rock solid visions of the future.

Time's shadow stands up.

Hyrule shouts a warning.

And the blade swings.

“TWILIGHT!”

The taste of copper washes over his tongue. Drips from the corner of his mouth.

He looks down. A blade's shadow is impaling him straight through the chest. And Dark Link's face splits into a savage grin. Triumphant.

Heat bleeds out of his wound too fast. Somehow, he's certain this isn't poison, or at least, the traditional kind. It's climbing up his limbs, through his torso, and squeezes as if it were the coils of a snake. There's something wild, uncontrolled to it. Malicious. Its embrace tightens. Tries to leave him helpless, paralyzed.

It's fine. More so than any other hero, he's used to darkness. Made it a tool for himself in the ways the others haven't dared. And he's suddenly so thankful for it. That it's him. His country doesn't need him anymore, not like Sky who needs to build it from the ground, not like Legend who can never step outside his doors without getting roped into saving another country, not like Hyrule who guards the secret of his royal family, not like Warriors who is working so damn hard to earn back trust and honor amongst his own, not like Wild who wants to serve his Zelda and pay back his past mistake.

He doesn't even have grand projects for the future, like discovering a new land with pirates, find a lost brother, or simply build a home with his wife.

He's just... a farmer who picked up a sword and had help at the right time. Even if he dies, he knows his friends in the resistance could still protect Hyrule in his stead. The kids can look after themselves and each other now. Queen Zelda has always been stronger than him. And Illia... he'll finally let Epona go back to her. He can only hope that will be enough.

Because here and now, he is needed one last time.

Dark Link snarls and grins and begins to pull back his sword.

Twilight's hand catches his wrist. Grips.

Dark Link flinches. Red eyes flickers between his wrist and Twilight's serene smile. The other hand lashes like a whip, dagger's shade aimed right at his face, but that one instead pierces through Twilight's palm. Closing fingers lock Dark Link's arm into place. Neither can escape the other now. For the first time, hesitation flashes on the doppelganger's face. Tilts into fear as it starts to struggle. Each movement is rough, violent and murder on Twilight's battered body. The thing's strength should scare him.

Except Twilight learned to wrestle gorons for fun. He wins every time.

The others rally. He catches them rushing forward in the corner of his eyes.

It tries to slip inside his shadows, but Twilight remembers that trick too. He pulls back, welcomes the darkness and Dark Link's feet blur, fuse to the ground, to Twilight's own shadow. It's oddly fitting.

With a deadly chime, the biggoron sword sails over his shoulder and catches Dark Link's arm. It rams itself against Twilight, tries to stagger him, but his mentor's at his back now, and the battleworn heroes, his wronged family, repay their suffering with interest.

One skewering echoed eight times over. Every aspect of the Hero's Spirit stabbing at their inner darkness, fighting the demon that claimed their faults. It cannot escape this time. Its face shifts with every blow. From young to old to young again, a twin lost at birth. Bitter. Resentful. It's weak and faltering when at last, it becomes Twilight's.

With one last battle cry, Sky executes a point perfect great spin that slices straight through Dark Link's neck. Its head goes flying and dissolves before it hits the ground. The body remains longer. Some of it clings to Twilight, sinks into him. He might have worried about this eventually, but the black sword fades and his tunic become slick with blood.

Yeah... there's no coming back from that one.

Dark Mirrors had always been his greatest weakness. What set him on his journey, what broke him in the end, twice. He thinks... he thinks he managed to pick up the pieces well enough.

“Sorry, guys...” His attempt at a smile turn into a grimace of pain. “I don't think I can walk this off...”

“Hyrule! Heal him!”

Hyrule's corpse-like pallor is all the answer they need. The fight exhausted the last of his magic. He's still stumbling forward like he will put his own life into the spell if he needs it. Sky's the one to pull him back, looking sick.

Legend's bag is upturned over the floor, and three of them kneel amongst the items. Twilight notes with faint amusement that this time, their prickly veteran does not yell at them to be careful with his stuff. Rare items gathered through harrowing adventures just go flying on the sides, discarded as useless. He hopes none of them break. He'd hate that to be one of the last things Legend remember about him.

“Don't,” Twilight says, but it's too weak to get through his family's panic. “It's okay...”

Four, the one trying to help him stand, snaps at him. “Don't say that!”

“I-” His knees give out from under him. Four goes down with him.

“Twilight!”

The others snap their heads in their direction.

It takes one look at Time's face to realize what a fool he'd been. It's almost enough to make him regret it. But no, given another chance, he'd make the same decision over and over again.

“Please...” he tries to say, but it's lost in a gargle of copper and red.

The screaming worsens.

Will Time go to his grave with this on his mind? He can't. Twilight wants to beg him not to. Wants to explain. Free himself of the fear he's clung to for the months they traveled together. But his lungs refuse to cooperate, filling with blood. Every attempt to speak just pains him more and produces mere wheezes.

Not on my behalf, he thinks, a last jolt of strength going through him from frustration and fear and sorrow. He hates the knowledge he'll put his mentor to rest with false hope. That he'll move on, thinking that his training might save him from this fate.

(From Ganondorf, yes, always. Hyrule saved because of the old man. Always cursed not to be known for his heroism, wasn't he?)

High whistling notes edge the confines of his consciousness. Fast notes, frantic, played with the fervor of a dying man, and he almost chuckles thinking he has a much better understanding of this as darkness creeps on the corner of his eyes and heat leeches out of his wound.

He can't see Time anymore. Just vague outlines of all his brothers, the color of their cloaks and hair the best way he can distinguish them by now. Hands push down on his shoulders, lift him gently. Scarred hands. Strands of blonde hair tickle his face.

Wild.

“'M sorry...” he breathes out. Tears prick at his eyes, knowing how much this'll hurt his cub. His little brother who already bears the weight of so many deaths. “Not... f-f-au-lt. Swear,” he tries to sound stern, he really does.

He can't go to his grave otherwise. He'll stay alive just so Wild and Time and the others don't pick up the guilt.

Eh...

She did always call him an optimist.

He's probably in some dying dream, he sees hands the shades of her skin join Wild's, brush his hair away from his eyes. Liquid flames frame a face like hers. The mocking lilt of her voice is broken by a sob though. He's never heard that before.

He wishes he could stop the pain for all of them, but he's tired.

Maybe... maybe Hylia granted him that one last favor. Maybe it's just him and his stupid heart that won't heal right, that makes him see what's not there...

He doesn't have the strength to do more than believe anyway.

“Midna...”

Tender warmth brush over his lips, one last little balm before he goes. It's gentle. So unlike her, so like her too. Eh. He always imagined they'd be cold.

***

Wild sees Twilight's eyes close, and his world snaps in half.

His brother slips from his arms, but thankfully, the woman's grip on him is steady. Familiar. It makes Twilight look at peace, as if he was sleeping in his lover's lap. It's something he always wished for his big brother, from the moment he heard that joke about a princess and a mirror. To have someone who loved him worth the pain he'd gone through.

And he only gets it in death.

It can't end this way. It can't! Mipha! he grapples with the thought and it wins. “MIPHA! PLEASE!”

She'd healed him from the brink so many times. Twilight's even more of a hero than him, so it would only be fair, right? Just this once. Just this once. He can't lose someone else because of his incompetence!

But Mipha has long gone to rest, and no one disturbs their group of heroes from their loss.

Wild feels himself scrap at his old hood, pushes it down over his head. As if that would stop reality from sinking in. He can't look at Twilight's body. He can't. He just wants to wake up in the shrine, like nothing ever happened. Like he hasn't watched-

“It was you!” Warriors snarls at the woman, his tone as biting as a sword's kiss. “All this time! It was you that broke his heart! He said he lost you, but you just left, didn't you?! You could have gone back to him!”

The strange woman – Midna – finally turns away from Twil- from... she turns to Warriors. Tears trail down her cheeks despite the faintest hint of a smile. “I always hoped he would forget me, the sweet fool.”

It's spoken with the sort of affection in one of Twilight's hair ruffling, but the insult feels searing. Wind's on her the next second.

“Don't you dare call him that!” he howls in her face, the shout less intimidated by the snot and tears he can't hold in. “Don't you- Twilight's not- not...”

Somehow, Sky can move. He lifts Wind away from Midna. It breaks the teen's rage, and he curls into Sky's shoulders as if their chosen isn't crying himself.

“He was,” she says, and it strikes Wild that she is just like Twilight had said. Fierce. Powerful. And a bit cruel. Like a jewel barbed in thorns – even if she'd laugh at the description. “It could have been different, if he hadn't been who he was. But he would always make this choice. You know this.”

Memories come to Wild, unbidden, of days in his Hyrule, where the only one he could count on was himself and a wolf. Hordes chasing a beast whilst he picked them off one by one. Enormous monsters fell side by side with his friend. Cold nights buried in fur. Panicked barks getting closer to him as he struggled to stand in the middle of a battlefield.

Goddesses...

The music – when, who, had started, – breaks into a horrible screech that should never come out of an instrument. It's half scream. Half something shattering.

“Why isn't it working?!” Time croaks, hands trembling around his broken ocarina.

“That power was only ever borrowed,” Midna says as if every syllable costs her. “The price would be too high.”

Legend is the next one to move from sorrow to rage. “No! We'll do it again!” He kneels by his bags and he's tossing aside items by the dozens. “We didn't come all this way for this!”

“You did,” Midna's voice falters. “And so did I. It was always meant to end like this.”

An horrible sinking feeling seizes Wild's heart. “You... knew?”

They freeze.

Midna looks down at Twilight's face and brushes a strand of hair away from his markings. “At the very end of our adventures, I was spared by the Goddess. Salvaged, maybe, from the ruins of forbidden power and the home of my dearest friend. Hylia spoke to me then. Told me.”

Wild sees her chest shudder before her voice breaks.

“Told me that Link and I would only be reunited on the day of his death. That I'd be the one to take his last breath. It was the only way Hyrule could be safe.”

“Fuck Hyrule!” Legend shouts, hoarse. “What is the point-? Every time! F-fuck this kingdom and fuck Hylia! What about us?! Why does she hate us so much?!”

Legend's arms fall to the sides, his grief spent. He stares at his feet and doesn't react when his successor hugs him tight. Warriors gets his other side.

Wild feels numb. He had done his best the first time around, to believe that Hylia wanted the best even when she let his Zelda suffer through her silence. He thought, maybe, her late answer had a purpose. But he can't figure it out. A kingdom she claimed to protect, destroyed before she helped.

His chest hurts. He can't breath right.

Ahead, the air tears with a jarring noise and a burst of black particles. He can't help the flare of hope they bring, the very same magic that Twilight used to become a wolf. But his brother's not moving. Midna's arm is raised toward the black portal.

“No, no!” Time finally breaks out of his paralysis, reaching out for Twilight's body. “You can't take him!”

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't have much time left. I must bring him back to his village. I owe him that much.”

None of them stop her from walking back into the shadows, their lost brother in her arms.

***

The greatest threat to their world has finally been defeated. Months of hardship, over. The purpose for which Hylia assembled them, fulfilled. It should have been heralded by a feast, a last evening together before the final goodbyes. The weight of their mission should have been lifted, but now it won't leave them.

They try.

They find the seediest tavern, in the darkest corner of town. They are not looking for a celebration. They want to drown the sorrow in something less painful than grief, be it a bar fight, a hangover or a round of the bard's singing.

All eight of them around a table, nine drinks before them. A toast.

Unshed tears.

Stories. All those times Twilight played big brother to them. Tried to be the reasonable one even when he was smirking under his wolf pelt. Those games of cards he won the pants off Warriors, literally. Those times he teased Legend with his incomprehensible slangs (they'd never know what that one about goat horns mean, would they?). Those nights they woke bundled up under a wolf. Those days he would spend at their bedside, caring for injuries he sniffed out better than most.

They call up more drinks, left the ninth alone, and pour their soul into making themselves almost believe he was still alive. That Midna had taken his sleeping body back where he'd finally get to be in love with her.

For the time of a few laughs, it works. Then they look at the empty seat.

“He died.” Time drops his head into his hands, smaller than they'd ever seen him before. “Twilight died, and I wasn't even holding him! I was playing that goddess-curse ocarina! He told me! He told me he would die for me and I didn't listen!”

“He would have died for any of us,” Warriors says, weakly. “Just like we would have died for him.”

At the end of the night, when they stumble out, unsteady, Wild picks up the ninth drink and empties it outside.

***

The arrow's tip strikes one eye and detonates.

Cracks in the stone spread a little further. But the statue is still standing. It waited for him when he came back. Here. The only thing still standing in the ruins of the temple. Where his first journey began.

He can't hear her voice as he did before. He has no crest to offer, no proof of his valor to receive a blessing. Even now, the thought makes him want to hurl. To carve out the gifts he'd received from the monster that parades as a goddess right out of his chest.

“Why?!” Wild screams at the unfeeling block of stone.

The damage reaches the statue's middle, and a chunk tears off. A piece of her cloak. Dust follows. He shoots another bomb arrow. Almost grins to see a piece of her hair fly off.

“Why? Why WHYWHYWHY?!”

Fingers close on air. He's emptied his quiver.

Glowing bomb runes materialize in his hands, and he can barely wait out the cooldown time between each new explosion.

He switches to a club.

“Why him?!” He wails at the stone. “Why was it him?! Why not me?!”

The shout drains the last of his strength. With a sob, he falls to his knees.

“You did this to him! You killed my brother!” he spits every inch of venom that's making his chest heave, that burns his eyes and that opened this gaping hole inside him. “Why did you do that?! You're supposed to be good! Everyone told me you protect Hyrule! But you don't! You just send the same mortal do your job over and over again! And now he's... he's DEAD! What's the point of you?!”

“Link!”

Zelda's voice.

It rubs his skin raw that she sounds so happy. She should be disgusted to see such a worthless hero! She should have left him to die in that field!

She stops by the broken entrance to the Temple of Time, her gaze flickering to the statue, to his sorry state. The ecstatic looks vanishes and a far more fitting sadness replaces it.

“Link...?”

For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to hate her. Hate Zelda for what she represents. He thinks he won't be able to look at her without knowing what she is. That there'll always be a voice in the back of his mind telling him she shares her soul with the unfeeling thing that lead his brother to his death.

“What happened?” she asks, gentle.

“T-Twilight... he's... ”

The club hits the ground.

Zelda closes her arms around him, and he clings to her like she's going to disappear.

***

“It's a boy!”

The wisewoman presents the small squirming body to Time.

Wisps of strawberry blonde hair crown his son's mostly naked head. Not dark enough to be...

He banishes the thought from his head. It's unfair. It's cruel. He can't compare them. His son. His son, he repeats to himself when the little bundle shifts against the inside of his elbow. Malon was right. That button nose is far cuter than his.

He's perfect.

His heart is threatening to jump right out of his chest. He doesn't think he can express all the love he has for this little hylian boy properly. He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone that much. For years, he'd feared a pauper's grave, a hole on the side of the road. A monster getting lucky at last and no one to mourn him. And now he was holding his firstborn child.

Malon had pushed past that fear and the walls he'd built around his heart. Twilight had shown him without a doubt he could have a family.

Twilight had...

It could have been different. But he would always make this choice.

Always choose to save Time at the last possible moment. For Malon. For their son.

Time dabs the corner of his eyes, and loses himself in the feeling of his son's skin against his own. He's so lucky to be able to hold him. To kiss the top of his head. To look at the beauty of his wife and child together. He doesn't know if he deserves it. Doesn't feel like he does anymore. But he can't throw it away. The price was so high. He wants every moment spent well. A full life to shower his child with love, for all the children he might have on the ranch.

I promised you.

Twilight is his successor, his son. A strong, kind young man that died too soon for Time's mistake. If he'd been stronger, if any of them had been a little stronger, perhaps...

He's never resented the lack of recognition over his deeds so ardently before. Never felt the bitterness take root this deep. Everything he was, everything he did, forgotten, lost. Accounts of his deeds, his prowesses, gone. Sword techniques. Tricks. Items. Twilight had been a farmer before Hylia had pushed his fate onto him. How could his own descendant have nothing of Time's knowledge and treasures passed down to him? If he had...

On the Triforce, he swears. He will pass on everything he knows to his children and his grandchildren after them, make them promise to perpetuate that tradition, so that Twilight might live longer. He couldn't fail him again.

He swears.

He will do anything to help Twilight survive their last quest.

In this world or the next.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #LU Twilight #LU Time

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sunflowerhae · 4 years

Note

HI GWEN I'm here to request 🥺🥺🥺 Can I request johnny as your college boyfriend (fluff please ☺) Ily byeeeee

AN• hi zainoo sorry i didn’t actually really do what u asked :( I’m Sorry:(((( if you want me to do another one, just ask 🥺🥺🥺🍓💖

⚠️language

You wanted to smack all of your friends for being the stupidest people on Earth. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, or that they weren’t good people, they were just so stupid.

You should have listened to your gut when it told you to reserve a study room in the library. Exam season was coming up, and kids were cramming before they had to deal with the worst two weeks of their life, so of course there wouldn’t be a group study room open to take. You offered going to the library before hand and reserving one, yet your friends insisted that one would be open, and worst case scenario, the whole group would have to go back to the home of your friends - the NCT frat house - in order to study. The thought made a deep sigh bubble from your throat.

All in all, you respected the NCT frat house. The members were pretty nice, they kept their house relatively clean, and they always had the best parties.

That being said, it was a terrible place to study. There was always someone in the living space, so it was never peaceful, there seemed to always be music blasting from god knows where, so it was never quiet, and there was always something going on, so it was distracting. It was the perfect recipe to retain zero information, and you were surprised some members even had good grades. You really didn’t want to study there, but, unfortunately and unsurprisingly, you all had made it to worst case scenario.

So there you were, trying to store the boring and repetitive information about the process of dissecting a starfish - all the while two younger members named Haechan and Renjun haphazardly made brownies in the kitchen with Michael Jackson blasting, the front door was wide open - as were all the windows - and a couple of members were moving kegs in for a party not even 6 hours away, and you were trying to focus while your best friend, Lucas, shoveled chex mix into his mouth at an alarming rate.

“Lucas!” You finally snapped after the fourth handful, and you startled your friends so much, that mark yelped a bit while dropping his pencil, Jaehyun looked up almost immediately from his book to look at you in surprise, and Lucas just about choked on his chex mix. “Shut the fuck up, stop chewing so loud! And take smaller bites, you’re going to choke!” After swallowing his mouthful, Lucas pointed at you with an accusing glare.

“Don’t project your frustration about the working environment on me, y/n. It’s not my fault there was no open study rooms for us.”

“I- yes, but it IS your fault we didn’t have one reserved! You were the biggest advocate for winging it.” Lucas scoffed while he reached for another handful.

“Hey, don’t just blame me, okay? These two idiots weren’t complaining with the idea!” At the mention of themselves, Mark - who was watching you both already - raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands in defense, and Jaehyun sighed while setting his book down once more, seemingly ready to throw it at the first person who tested his patience.

Mark seemed like he was about to debunk Lucas’s accusation, when his eyes went wide and he smiled and waved someone behind you over. You turned just in time for whoever it was to walk out of your peripheral vision, and when you turned back towards Mark, you were surprised to find a tall boy standing next to him and smiling down at the four of you.

“Mark, Jaehyun, Lucas, girl I don’t know, how are you on this fine day?” The unknown boy smiled at you, and you could have sworn that smile went straight into your stomach and turned into a butterfly.

“Johnny, please tell this dumbass-“ Mark motioned to Lucas’s hunched frame, “-that our failure to score a group study room was all due to him?”

“Johnny tell this idiot that I’m not the only one with opinions in this group, and he totally could have spoken up if he didn’t believe it was the right thing to do?” Lucas rebutted.

Johnny pretended to think on it for a second - even going as far as to place a finger on his thumb and stare up at the ceiling while making a hum noise - before answering with, “tell you what, I’ll give you my answer - IF someone tells me the name of the pretty girl in the middle of our frat house,” while looking at you with a smirk painted on his features.

Before anyone could say your name, a smile etched its way onto your face as you calmly stated, “oh that’s Mark”.

Everyone was silent for a second, and you thought you had overstepped a line with this stranger (you didn’t care about Mark, you had known the dude for four years), but when “Johnny” looked up at the ceiling out of sheer force from how much he was laughing, you knew he was quite okay with your joke.

“I don’t know who you are, but please let me take you out on a date,” you thought it was pretty smooth of him, so even though all three of your friends groaned, moaned, and practically begged you to tell Johnny to fuck off, you just laughed, smiled up at the tall boy, and said,

“Why not, stranger?”

🍄luv🍓u💖

#mine #my works #nct #sunflowerhae #asks #zainoo asks #ask sunflowerhae #requests #requests; open #<- att of the ask #johnny #johnny suh #johnny crack #johnny fluff

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 32)

They fight more often than not. Over the stupidest things. He invited her into his room again for some movies and story swapping. She makes the mistake of picking up one of his old, outgrown shirts and, with a laugh, asking if he really needs it still.

“Yes I need that!” He had snapped. He doesn’t think that it was his words but his tone. He can still vividly see her roughly tossing it into his laundry basket with a muttered, “you really don’t but fine.”

She didn’t leave and he didn’t ask her too but she was silent until he mustered up the courage to ask if she just wanted to get to the movie. She hesitated before saying yes. And then he makes a mistake of his own. He suggested one of the few movies they always watch. It was innocent enough when she suggested a movie that he had never heard of. A movie that came out during his absence. She mentioned that it was a popular one and that it would probably help to see it so he can jump into conversations about it. She added that she would show him a few new songs too. He was already too disgruntled to appreciate that she’d mentioned that they were reggaeton specifically. In retrospect it is a good idea. He should have taken the offer. It would have been logical and smart. Instead he complained. Complained and insisted on one of the old movies until she sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and left with a final comment, “let me know when you’re ready to move forward.”

He overheard a hasty exchange of goodbyes between she and his parents. He had asked Katara to talk to her for him when she had the opportunity.

That was the first fight, there were several more over things so mundane he can’t remember what they were. The fighting grew more intense when school resumed. This is no surprise to him, the first week of school leaves her grumpy like clockwork. It always had since he could remember.

Currently they sit on the patio of the Cod Shack. Soft gusts weave around tables and chairs. They are a bit too strong for his liking and he has to set his soda on his napkins and menu to keep them from blowing away. He watches the patio lights sway and looks to the clouds. They are still white but the forecasters have called for a light but steady rain.

“So did you pick out any colleges yet?”

He knows that her senior year has only just begun, but he also knows that she is always prepared leagues ahead of everyone else.

She hums in thought. “I did…”

“But?”

“I was going to try to surf professionally and get a higher education on the side. I have something else in mind now.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“A surprise.” She smirks.

“Oh come on!” He throws his hands up with a laugh. “Don’t I get a hint.”

She ponders it. “During my high seas adventure I unlocked a hidden talent.”

“Another one?”

“There will be more to come, don’t worry.” She pauses. “I already know where I want to go so I can help you re-apply to some of the colleges. I actually already have a few ideas for when you begin applying for scholarships. You have quite a story to tell and…”

He doesn’t mean to but he tunes her out, her voice lost beneath a rushing current of unease. She has already done the hard work for him and yet he still feels horribly overwhelmed. College? Scholarships? Letter? He just got back. He doesn’t want to think about scholarships. He doesn’t want to think about the future at all. And Azula keeps smacking him in the face with it. A new feeling mixes in his belly with the fear. It takes him a moment to process it as anger. No; mild agitation. Why can’t she just let him be and stop hounding him? If he were thinking logically, he would remind himself of who he is talking to. Would remind himself that she would--that she already has treated herself the same way.

He heaves the itching irritation aside and changes the subject. “Have you made up with Jet yet?”

Azula sighs. He expects her to steer the conversation back on track. “No, he won’t talk to me. Unless it’s surf team related.” She pauses. “But it’s fine, I have you and pretty much everyone else. Helping father with AA and the lighthouse keeps me busy enough after school…”

Again he finds himself zoning out. He doesn’t know how she does it; plans for further education, attends surf practice, manages the lighthouse, and helps Ozai with AA, all while attending school. His eyes wander to the scars on her arm and chin; a subtle reminder that she probably is pushing herself too far. Farther than he could ever know. And what is he doing? Working one lax, family run job.

He rubs his hands over his face. For all he knows she has done much more. He remembers her mentioning that she helped repair and remodel La-bsters. She’d already confessed that she’d let her mother die to save Zuko instead. He knows that he shouldn’t but he does. Curiosity gets the better of him so he asks, “I guess you’ve had an eventful summer then?”

Azula nods. She leans in and whispers, “Jet and I snuck out and had a few drinks.”

“That’s your big news?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m talking about the kid I stole from father after he told me to throw them out for him.”

Sokka blinks. “Oooh, those kinds of drinks…”

She nods and in his head he checks off one more thing that she has done before him. “Did you get…”

“Drunk?” She thinks for a moment. “No, not quite.” She backtracks, “maybe a little.”

“Is it because you have so much going on right now?”

“I’m not my father, Sokka, I have more control than that.” She picks up an onion ring. “It was a one time thrill. I just wanted to see what it was like.”

Just a simple life experience…

Simple and yet suddenly it feels like she is much older than he. His stomach turns again.

.oOo.

Things are forced more often than not. He always seems so uncomfortable around her when she isn’t faking. He watches the same movies over and over again and the more she pushes for him to give a new release a try, the more furiously he pushes back.

Everything is ‘remember this, remember that?’ Everything is a nostalgia trip and she wants to leave the vehicle. She wants to move away from the remember’s but she doesn’t want to move away from Sokka. She doesn’t think that he will leave her a choice if she doesn’t play along with his childish antics. He gets moody and frustrated and she is probably one more, ‘Sokka, let’s try something new’ away from a breakup.

So she forces a smile and bares another trip to the Cod Shack while Zuko and Katara meet Aang and Toph at the new arcade. He is blabbering on and on about how good it is to be home; she doesn’t mind this, this is actually rather adorable. But then the ‘I’m happy to be home’ spiel spirals into how great it is that she is willing to stick to ‘the good stuff’ and not that ‘stupid new arcade.’

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she goes to the arcade with Zuko and Katara when he takes up his shifts at La-bsters.

He pushes in their chairs, “let’s walk along the beach, I was thinking that we could build sand castles like old times!” He holds up a pail and a blue plastic shovel.

“Sure, Sokka.”

“Are you okay?” He asks. “You seem unhappy.”

“I’m fine.”

“In other words, something’s bothering you. Is it your dad?”

“No, father has been great. He’s getting his life together and moving forward.” She is too slow to keep the emphasis on ‘moving forward’ out of her voice. “I’m fine Sokka, let’s go to the beach.”

Sokka’s expression brightens so much that she almost doesn’t mind the prospect of building sandcastles like children. But that charm only lasts until they are on the beach and she spies Chan, Ruon, and most of the surf team.

Chan gives her a wave that she returns with a fluttering stomach. She takes the shovel that Sokka extends to her.

“What brings the two of you to the beach?” Chan greets.

Azula’s phone buzzes and Zuko’s name flashes across the screen; he is bragging about finally beating Toph at one of several of her favorite arcade games.

“We were just going to build sand castles!” Sokka declares proudly.

“Like kiddie sand castles?” Ruon asks.

“That’s right.” He is much bolder than he ought to be and her cheeks grow gently pink on his behalf.

“Actually, Sokka, father just texted. I have to go home and help him make a repair to the lighthouse.” The look of disappointment on his face leaves her feeling rather horrible. And the drive home seeps with an atmosphere of letdown. It only grows as they get closer to the lighthouse. “Maybe tomorrow, Sokka? Would that be fine.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” His smile is as forced as her enjoyment of their dates.

“Alright, I’ll see you after surf practice.” She leans in for a kiss. She feels no spark. She hates to think it, much less say it, but it feels like kissing a kid or a little brother.

.oOo.

Sokka flops down upon his head and puts the heels to his eyes. He is potently aware that he is blowing it! He knows his options; he can cling to the way things used to be and lose Azula or he can embrace the changes with her.

Still, he isn’t ready to leave his childhood behind. Not when it was so bright and so happy. He isn’t ready to take on the world and leave the shores that he loved. Not so soon after he has gotten back. Not ever.

He picks up one of several pictures of he and Azula. They are kids, they are looking at the camera and smiling. She holds a fishing pole with the smallest fish he has ever seen. He is holding a tackle box.

He swallows. Fishing had been a new experience at one point. La-bsters had been new at one point. Going from swimming at the eastern beach to the western beach had been a change… He swallows once more. He supposes that he wouldn't have met Azula at all if not for one simple and subtle change.

One simple and subtle change that made him feel so much happier for years to follow. He rubs his hands over his face. Tomorrow is going to be an awful day.

.oOo.

Azula takes a seat on the lighthouse patio and watches for Sokka’s car. She tries to prep herself for a night of silly activities and pretending to enjoy them. She wonders if she should skip the faking and feeling sparing and break things off. She has already broken Jet’s sensitive heart, she may as well continue her streak.

She spies his headlights and hears the pops and snaps of the gravel. Hears the car door slam and the sound of Sokka’s sneakers shuffling up the driveway. He gives a sheepish wave and a, “hey.” Maybe he knows what is coming.

“Hello, Sokka.” She pauses and opens her mouth to speak.

“Uh...so I left the pails and shovels at home.”

Her chest floods with relief. Though it quickly fades as she processes what that likely means. She guess that she will let him rip the bandaid. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I was hoping to maybe just go to the boardwalk or something. Or we can stay here. I just want to talk.”

She hears the door creak slightly ajar. “We can stay here and talk if father will give us some privacy.” She hears the door shut once more. “He has been a little board without the bar.”

Sokka laughs. “He knows that he can go to the bar and order a soda or something, right?”

“He isn’t ready to be that close to the bar yet.” She shrugs. “Anyways, let's get this talk over with.”

He gnaws on his lip. “I’ve been gone for kind of a long time.”

“Yes. What of it.”

“So I missed a lot.”

“We’ve established this, yes.”

“And I was wondering, are you still willing to help catch me up?”

She thinks for a moment. “No.” She replies. His world seems to fall apart. “I’ll help you get ahead.”

He still tears up but she is certain that it is with relief and joy. “I looked up some of those movies that you mentioned. Or maybe you can show me some of the new restaurants on the boardwalk.”

“How about the arcade.”

“I don’t like arcade games.”

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s go see a movie. If you would like, we can rent one and watch it in your room like we usually do.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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henrikvanderswoon · 4 years

Text

Tomb of the Lost Queen Live Reactions:

Alright, guys, you know what time it is! Yep, it's time to eat too many snacks and ignore all other responsibilities well into the night! In honor of the plague, we're uhh... going to Egypt.

...

Anyway:

I love the music in this game so fucking much. I'm only at the menu screen and I'm already so happy. My childhood Ancient Egyptian phase is repeatedly fed whenever I hear this shit. 🐫

I'm a little offended that there isn't a pyramid emoji, tbh.

Okay, I appreciate the little opening in this game. The bit of background information about the other team, and the sandstorm in present day, I'm here for it.

Lily's got some nerve putting herself in charge of me.

"I'm not gonna go on a power trip or anything crazy--" bish, you already have. This is what you are doing.

Did anyone else watch House of Anubis??? That's what Senet makes me think of every time I play this. Actually this entire game makes me think of that show... Hot damn, what a good ol' time that was.

Gotta say, losing to Lily in Senet is literally the most dissatisfying thing ever. All that gloating makes me wanna tug on her braid. 😡

I have wasted a good 20 minutes playing Senet over and over again because I keep losing and I want to win.

ITS BEEN AN EMBARRASSINGLY LONG TIME COMING BUT I FINALLY KICKED HER ASS

Drunk on victory, I immediately celebrated by making Nancy drink like 7 or 8 glasses of water at one time until she got sick. What a time to be alive.

Nancy, you can't just walk into the tents and take everyone's shit. Abdullah is gonna march up one day and be like: "Who touched the flashlight I was charging?" And we're gonna have to be all: "...what flashlight?" 🤷‍♀️

Abdullah, please get your head out of your ass, please and thank ye very much, sir.

"A few tips? Yes. That's how I learned to read hieroglyphs - at first they were inscrutable and mysterious, but then I got some tips..." Frankly, I find this so fucking funny. Abdullah you're a vain egg head but you got jokes.

Shit, I forgot to grab a shovel.

"I need the right tool to clear this away--" Nancy, just use your hands and dig like a dog.

I really do love a lot of the puzzles in this game. I love figuring out the hieroglyph messages based on the glyphs and even the sliding one we have to do to open up that tomb and reveal the curse. Up my alley.

"You know why we stopped trying to take over the world?" Dylan, I uhhhh hate to break it to you bud, but... 😬😬

Also, I'm still confused as to why Dylan was ever allowed on the site to begin with. And Jamila. Who the fuck said: "SURE! COME CHILL OUT WITH US WHILE WE'RE WORKING ON A PRIVATE ARCHEOLOGICAL DIG! IT'LL BE FUN!"

"Are You Alien or Aliout?" is the most Sonny Joon thing I've ever heard and I love it.

"Insanus Totallus." Ha-ha-ha, wow, Dylan, what a... great jab. You really snatched Jamila's wig with that one, huh?

"Suckers Talking to Crazies." Oh. Just kidding. Lily wins the competition for Lamest Jamila insult. Christ.

Goddammit I get too trigger happy with the mouse as I fly down the corridors that I consistently click on jamila by accident and I'm not exaggerating when I say I scream every time. 🙃

I can't get Lily to leave the tent and I need to get into Jon's things because I need his lighter and i am FRUSTRATED.

Lily...pls leave. Let me set you and Dylan up on a date out in the middle of nowhere so i can sneak around while y'all bone, how does that sound???

No?

Fuck you too, then.

"If life were a good book, you'd be my favorite reoccurring character," is such an endearing line. I love it so much. Thank you, Beatrice. This almost makes me feel better about the fact that I can't get Lily to get her ass out of the tent. 😔

It's "talking to and calling literally everyone you possibly can until you literally can't anymore" time!

Baahahahaha I figured it out (sometimes I swear I feel so stupid replaying these games because I know for a fact that I figured these things out several times before lmao)

Dylan, you seriously had so much time to think up a good lie to keep Nancy off your back about why you're there, and you failed miserably.

The dialogue in this game is so fucking good to me. It's hilarious, but also Abdullah makes some excellent points about things, and Dylan makes himself look like an idiot and Nancy's sense of humor is great. Ah. I love it 😂

Dylan: "Ask me the stupidest question you can think of." Nancy: "Can I live here?" GOD. All your response options are golden, actually.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dylan, my guy. We all know when we say "distract Lily" we mean "bang her." Have fun, kids.

Speaking of banging: Dylan. Why are these noises you're making while I'm trying to save your life so overtly sexual??

"AH! YES!" ... "Yeah! Oh, that's it." SHUT UPPP.

The Egyptology facts they give us when we accidentally kill Dylan really just kills me too.

I keep killing him. Which means I keep having to listen to him 🤪

Me: *aggressively muting the game* Please stop moaning, Dylan, I'm begging you.

I love how Dylan tells you that the doctors think he'll literally die if he falls asleep within the next 8 hours, and every time someone asks how Dylan is Nancy's all: "He'll be fine! Right as rain! 100% completely out of the woods!" 😁👍🏻

When Abdullah freaks out about the columns moving and you just... blame the aliens. 10/10.

Even better. Abdullah is LITERALLY RIGHT THERE. And he doesn't notice you jumping from column to column??? BOI.

This... is all for now 😂

#i had to share this first half now honestly #im really having a time with this game xjdjsjsjjsks trying to play bit by bit throughout the days #tomb of the lost queen #tmb #long post #talking to myself #nd game reactions #(thats the new tag for this i guess???)

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softlunars · 5 years

Text

60 things. — sorry.

things you said too quietly. — non-idol!kim woojin ; stray kids

requested: [yes!]

“this is the stupidest drama to ever exist.” you glared at the tv screen in front of you, angrily shoveling popcorn into your mouth. woojin sat beside you, trying but failing to stifle his laughter at your popcorn-muffled anger.

“you think every drama is stupid.” woojin took the bowl of popcorn away from you as he said this. your speed of shoving it into your mouth slightly concerned him; he didn’t want to deal with a dead best friend.

you huffed, puffing your cheeks like a little kid. “well this one’s stupider than the rest! who just watches their first love get hurt over and over without intervening?! that’s stupid! they’re stupid!!” at this, woojin choked on a laugh. he really couldn’t believe he was watching you throw a tantrum about some tv show.

“i didn’t know i was best friends with a toddler.” woojin teased you and reached over to pinch your cheek. you yelped as he did, falling sideways on the couch to avoid any more possible attacks.

“i’m not a toddler, for your information.” your voice was slightly muffled due to your squished face. pushing yourself up, you poked your tongue out before continuing. “i just have very strong opinions that need to be heard—”

“—is what a toddler would say.” woojin dodged a pillow you threw at his face, a chuckle erupting from his throat at the way you grumbled incoherently. he shuffled across the couch, throwing an arm behind your head once he reached your side. you instinctively leaned into woojin’s side, but immediately jumped back up when you felt him jolt.

“stop getting electrocuted and let me get comfortable.” you groaned and settled back into woojin’s side, barely comprehending that he said something.

another show illuminated the dim living room of woojin’s apartment. you’d randomly barged into his house, exclaimed “it’s the love of your life!” – and subsequently raided his kitchen before he could even exit his bedroom.

it was a common occurrence – you showing up to woojin’s house without telling him beforehand. most times, it was during exams, where you’d walk into his apartment just to collapse on the couch. woojin never minded – the most he’d do was tease you about being in love with him as he handed you a drink.

a month ago, though, woojin started minding for some reason you didn’t know. he’d come out to the living room slower, act different around you, do so many things differently that you couldn’t ignore it. you confronted him once about it, but the conversation didn’t get far before getting shut down by woojin.

you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. woojin would tell you what was bothering him when he was ready.

“‘jin, seriously, stop acting like you’re getting electrocuted; i just wanna relax.” woojin whispered a quick apology as he tried to halt his movements. that didn’t happen, however, which not only annoyed you but worried you.

you lifted yourself from woojin’s side, turning to make eye contact with him. he was trying to act nonchalant, but you saw right through it. you’re his best friend; you know him better than yourself.

“‘jin, you’ve been acting weird for the past month. seriously, what’s wrong? what’s bothering you? i know you shut me down before when i asked, but i’m worried. so you’re not shutting me down this time.”

woojin sat in front of you quietly. he didn’t respond to your words; he didn’t know how to. how was he supposed to say he liked you – more than as a best friend?

you leaned forward, placing your hands on his knees. “i’m not gonna stop pestering you until you tell me what’s wrong, kim woojin.” you tried to catch his gaze but ultimately failed, seeing as he was looking everywhere but your face.

he could see you growing impatient, but no words fell from his lips. it felt like his throat was completely constricted – even if he wanted to, he couldn’t say something.

you sucked in a breath as you roughly poked his forehead. “tell me. what’s wrong.”

you could barely register that woojin had spoken; his voice was so low, barely reaching a whisper.

you didn’t know what he said, but woojin heard his voice ring loud and clear in his brain. “i like you. and i don’t wanna risk losing you.”

you pinched his cheek to bring his eye level up to your own. you could see the distress and sadness swirling in his eyes, dispersing to the rest of his face. it worried you extremely; woojin wasn’t one to show his emotions with expressions. or much at all. you’d only become aware of his problems whenever he cracked and let every frustration out. seeing him like this, now, made anxiety start to pump through your veins.

“‘jin, i didn’t hear you. can you please tell me? please? i wanna help you.” your voice took on a pleading tone, contorting woojin’s heart.

he let out a breath of air as he willed his voice to gain volume. his eyes looked into yours and his lip was sucked between his teeth before he tried to vocalized his issue once more.

“i like you. i don’t want to risk losing you.” his voice was still barely above a whisper, yet somehow, you managed to hear him this time around. you wished you didn’t.

your blood seemed to run cold as woojin’s words processed in your head. all of his actions from the previous month flooded your thoughts, each one revealing telling signs that yes, your best friend liked you. more than a best friend usually should.

you tried to rack your brain for a response, desperately trying to relieve woojin from the panic you could see welling inside of him.

just as you opened your mouth to say something in reply, woojin’s voice broke the silence that settled around you two.

“i knew you didn’t like me back, so i didn’t wanna tell you. and i tried distancing myself from you bit by bit, but i knew that wouldn’t stop you.”

“woojin—“ you tried to interrupt him, but you were cut short as the man in front of you continued.

“i know i’m stupid, just like those drama characters you poke fun at for falling in love with their friends. so i’m sorry. i’m sorry our friendship turned into a shitty drama plot line.” he let out a half-hearted chuckle when he finished.

by this point, you had leaned back from woojin’s body, trying to allot space between the two of you, in case your touch hurt him.

“i’m... i’m sorry, ‘jin.” your own voice diminished in volume as you took in what was happening. you watched woojin stand up from the couch and open his mouth.

“i wanna be alone right now, (y/n).”

you nodded, feeling yourself move from the couch to the apartment door. slipping on your shoes, you merely nodded to tell him goodbye.

once the door clicked shut, woojin collapsed back onto the couch, his head finding purchase in the palms of his hands.

he whispered – this time with no one surrounding him:

“i’m sorry for falling in love with you.”

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foreverwayward · 5 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 2 Chapter 11: What is and What Should Never Be

Summary: After the sudden death of John, Sam and Dean, along with Riley, continue their quest for vengeance. As Sam and Riley’s powers continue to grow, the three young hunters find themselves closer to the Yellow-Eyed demon than ever before. The strength within themselves and their loyalty to each other will be tested as they are left to fight their families’ lifelong war alone, unaware that unimaginable evil will lead them to face darkness itself as they carry the weight of their fathers’ legacies.

Masterlist

Word Count: 10,693 (yes, it’s HELLA long)

Content Warning: language, light smut and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Sam and Dean got out of Baby and stepped into the night covered graveyard. They were tired and obviously flooded with adrenaline as they moved quickly and on completely on edge.

The Winchesters had just escaped the Green River County Detention Center in Arkansas. Both had been arrested on breaking and entering charges that had been a part of the plan along. They needed to get inside and find the spirit that was taking the lives of several convicts and C.O.’s on the inside.

Only the hunt didn’t go quite as planned. Agent Henriksen had found them after being on the hunt for Sam and Dean since the incident at the bank in Milwaukee.

Popping open the trunk, the brothers grabbed their flashlights, duffel, bag and shovels before locking it back up.

As they went to begin their trudge across the cemetery, a car’s headlights rushed across the quiet road. The Honda came to an abrupt stop next to Baby and its tires squealed on the pavement.

Sam and Dean waited, frozen in fear that they had been caught.

Riley nearly leaped from the car and ran to the boys with her arms open. Dean dropped his gear and caught her in his arms as they held each other tight.

“Oh, my god,” she breathed into his jacket. “You made it out.”

“Of course,” he told her with a smirk. “I wasn’t worried.”

She let go of him and threw her arms around Sam. Riley felt she could breathe for the first time in days. Not being able to be involved in the hunt in any way, she had felt completely helpless.

Spinning around on her heel, Riley slugged Dean in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“That was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had in a long line of stupid ideas, Dean Winchester.”

Sam shot his brother a knowing look. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Dean humored them before bending down to give Riley a kiss. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”

That look in his eye and the dimple that sat at the edge of his troublesome grin made her cave instantly. “You better have. Just glad you didn’t get made someone’s bitch,” she teased.

“Well, we kinda did,” Sam added as they all grabbed their gear again and hurried towards their destination. “Henriksen found us.”

Riley’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“You and I are both suspects in murder cases ourselves now. It’s not just Dean anymore. They’re after all of us.”

“Shit. Alright, lets salt and burn the bones and high-tail it outta here. You guys know we’re fucked, right?”

“I know,” Dean agreed. “This time, we gotta go fuckin’ deep.”

Sam scoffed. "’Deep’, Dean? We should go to Yemen.”

“Ooh, I'm--I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep.”

------

About a week later, in a quiet motel room, Riley and Sam sat diligently doing research on their newest case. Missing people all in the same stretch of area that had brought them to Joliet, Illinois.

The hunters knew they had to stay in the wind, but come hell or high water, the job was always the priority.

Riley called Dean’s cell and put hers on speakerphone before laying it down on the table. It rang among the spread lore, books, and John’s hunter’s journal.

“Hey, Rye.”

“Hey, yourself. You got anything yet?”

“No way. There’s like 50 miles of real estate out here.”

“Well, that’s where all the victims disappeared,” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah, well I got jack squat. What about you guys?”

“Just one thing. We’re pretty sure of it now. We’re hunting a Djinn.”

Dean chuckled. “A fuckin’ genie?! You think these suckers really grant wishes?”

“I don't know. I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Koran.”

“My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn't she? Way hotter than that Bewitched chick.”

Riley rolled her eyes before barking, “Dean! Focus.”

Clearing his throat, Dean’s tone went more serious. “Yeah, so you find out where Djinns usually lair up?”

“Bigger the better,” she answered. “Ruins, abandoned massive buildings--gives ‘em more places to hide.”

“You know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out.”

‘Wait--no, no, no, no, no,” Sam interjected. “Come pick us up first.

“Nah, I'm sure it's nothing. I just wanna take a look around. Talk soon.” Dean hung up the call and continued his drive down the dark road through the rain.

------

The Impala purred as it stopped in front of an old abandoned warehouse. Rain poured down and Dean got out with his flashlight as he headed towards the building.

He swung open the large metal door as it creaked. The sound of dripping water came from all around and echoed into the empty space. What was an office once upon a time, was now covered in dust and cobwebs. It looked like a time capsule where nothing had been moved for years.

After clearing the area, he walked back to the hallway. Dean looked back and forth, having to watch his own back without his partners.

The hunter pulled out his knife and armed himself as he turned the corner. He quietly went further inside before a creature rushed at him and pinned him to the wall.

Dean dropped his flashlight at the attack. Staring back at him was the Djinn, bald with curling blue tattoos over its face.

The Djinn slammed Dean’s hand against the wall over and over until the hunter dropped his weapon.

As he opened his left hand, the creature’s palm was covered in what looked like a blue fire that grew hot, his eyes turning a bright blue.

The Djinn put its lit up hand on Dean’s forehead and the Winchester’s irises rolled back into his head as the white of his eyes took on a faint, blue hue.

------

Dean jolted awake to the sound of crashing thunder. He was in a warm bed and bare-chested as an old black and white horror movie played on the TV near him.

He briefly looked around, unsure of his surroundings until his eyes fell on the woman asleep at his side. It was Riley. She was wearing nothing but the thin bed sheet that barely covered her.

Confused, he reached over to gently wake her. “Riley…Rye…”

She groaned. “Babe, what is it? Scratch that, what time is it?”

“I--I don’t know. Where are we?” he asked in a panic.

“Uh...we’re at home?” she chuckled. “Jesus. You must be exhausted. Go back to sleep.” Riley rolled back over onto her side.

Dean’s face scrunched, completely perplexed. “What? Home? What the…” his voice trailed off as he gazed around the room again.

He got up and quickly got dressed before running to grab his phone and hiding in the bathroom. Dean dialed up Sam as fast as he could, his mind reeling.

“Dean?” the voice on the other end answered in surprise. It was Sam.

Dean tried to whisper even though his somewhat frantic voice. “Sam! Dude, I don’t know where I am. Riley’s here too, but she’s just as clueless as I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Djinn. It attacked me. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“The gin? You’re--you’re drinking gin?”

“No, asshat. The Djinn. The...scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and then I woke up...next to Riley in a bed that sure as hell ain’t my own.”

Sam sighed with a small laugh. “Dean, you’re drunk. You’re drunk-dialing me.”

“I’m not drunk! Quit fucking around!”

“Look, it's late. Alright? Just get some sleep and, um--I'll...see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Wait, Sam! Sam!” he whispered firmly before realizing the call had been dropped. Dazed and more disoriented than he was when he woke up, Dean left the room to explore.

The hallway walls were covered in framed original vinyl classic rock record covers.

As he went into the main area of the home, he looked around at the decorated family room. The walls were a muted dark blue with nice curtains on the windows. Soft and welcoming furniture filled the space. It was relaxing and homey, somewhere he could definitely see relaxing with a beer.

On the coffee table sat a pile of bills. Dean picked them up and read one with his brow creased.

Dean Winchester

#53 Barker Avenue

Lawrence, KS 66044

“Lawrence?” Dean sifted through the rest. All had either his or Riley’s names at the same address. “What the hell?”

“Dean?” a sweet voice called from behind him. When he turned, there was Riley. She was in one of Dean’s large t-shirts. “Couldn’t go back to sleep?”

“Uh, yeah--” he chuckled awkwardly. “My god, she’s beautiful.”

She walked over to him with a flirty smile. “Well, if you come back to bed...I might be able to help you with that.” Riley put her hands around his neck and kissed him before staring up into his eyes lovingly.

“Sure…” he grinned. “It’s just--you, uh--you’re feeling alright, yeah? Like--not weird or...out of place?”

Riley looked at him with bewilderment. “Uh, no,” she laughed. “What’s gotten into you? I mean, we didn’t have more than a couple beers tonight.”

Dean remembered their signal for her to read his mind and rubbed the tip of his nose. When nothing happened, he did it again, and then again. “Can you hear me, Rye?”

“You having allergies or something there?” Riley teased.

She couldn’t hear his thoughts. “No, I--I’m fine. Why don’t you head back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” The lips he loved and knew so well found his once more. “Don’t be too long.” Riley began to head back to the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder with a sweet smile before disappearing down the hallway.

“What the fuck?” he mouthed.

Dean stopped as his eyes went to the pictures all around him. They were of him and Riley. Christmases, birthdays, ridiculous photos of them in the Impala together...all telling a story of a life they had never known together.

He turned to see yet another photo, only that particular picture made his legs nearly collapse beneath him. Dean picked it up to look closer before dropping it at his feet. It shattered on the wooden flooring as he took off out the front door.

------

Later into that same night, Dean pulled the Impala over to the curb of a small and sleepy suburban street. His eyes refused to lift from across the way as his heart pounded in his chest.

The hunter got out of the car full of excitement and a hint of fear that it wouldn’t be true.

As he walked up the steps of his childhood home, he hurried the last few feet until he was at the familiar yellow door. Dean pounded his fist on the front door and rang the bell multiple times as his swirl of emotions grew.

Suddenly, the porch light lit and he jolted at its awakening. The door opened to a blonde woman in a pink and white robe with a soft and loving voice of concern,

“Dean…” It was Mary, it was Mom.

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked over her face with longing and love. 23 years without her had nearly stolen her image away from him. Tears formed and he stood nearly speechless.

“...Mom?” he could hardly utter.

“What are you doing here?” Mary asked with concern as she reached to touch her son’s arm. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” he practically whispered.

Her head tilted slightly with worry. “Well, come inside.”

Dean stepped into the home, his eyes never leaving Mary as she closed the door behind them.

“Riley called. She said you just took off.” She walked into the family room and turned to face Dean as she waited for him.

“...you--you know Riley?”

Mary chuckled awkwardly under her breath. “Of course, I know her. You’ve only been together nearly four years.”

Stunned, his eyes grew again. “Four years?! Jesus,” Dean beamed, but his face quickly fell realizing he was probably being tricked; Mary couldn’t be real. “Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?”

“Dean, I don’t understand--”

Cutting her off abruptly, Dean pushed, “just answer the question.”

“I told you angels were watching over you,” she answered sweetly.

Dean’s muscles relaxed as he sighed with joy and rushed to her to hug her tight. “I don’t believe it,” he smiled.

His mom rubbed his back as she spoke into his shoulder. “Honey, you’re scaring me.” Dean took a step back to look at her again. “Now, just tell me what’s going on.”

“You don’t think--you don’t think wishes can come true, do you.” When Mary looked at him quizzically, he shook his head. “Forget it,” Dean smiled as he hugged her again. “I just--I’m just happy to see you is all.”

The hunter’s green eyes began to cry with joy, but he pulled himself together as he stepped away from the embrace. Dean looked her over, still in awe of seeing her. “You’re beautiful,” he uttered from a breathy laugh.

Mary grinned. “What?”

Clearing his throat, Dean had to ask her more. “Hey, uh--when I was a kid, was there a fire here?” He stepped away to examine the bookshelves and pictures.

“No. Never.”

“Oh. I--I thought there was.” Dean stumbled across a picture of John and Mary smiling with Sam and Dean as kids in front of them. They looked so happy. “I guess I was wrong.”

His wandering eyes studied the other photos. Dean in a cap resting on the couch as a teenager, one of him with his prom date, and another of Sam as a graduate. He picked up another picture. A black and white photograph of John, dressed in baseball clothes with a matching cap, a bat in his hand ready to swing with a huge grin on his face. “Dad’s on a softball team,” he murmured to himself with amusement. Dean turned around to see Mary staring at him, puzzled. “I mean--Dad’s softball team. That’s--that’s just funny to me.”

“He loved that stupid team,” she said softly with sadness in her eyes.

Dean’s smile fell. “Dad’s dead? ...and the thing that killed him was…?”

“A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that.”

“He went peacefully.” There was a brief moment where Dean felt comfort over his father’s passing for the first time since his death. “Wow. I just--”

Mary sighed. “You’ve been drinking.”

“What? No, mom. I haven’t.”

A rapid, soft knock came from the door and Mary went to open it. There was Riley, her face covered in worry.

“Is he here?” she asked hugging Mary. Her gaze went to Dean, standing in the living room. Riley hurried to him and took his hand. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I just--I’m sorry, Rye. I just needed to see mom.”

“Rye?” Her face scrunched with amusement. “That’s new.” Riley squeezed his hand. “You know you can always tell me if you wanna come over here. You know I’m always happy to see your mom.”

Dean gave Riley a half-smile to her response. “Right. ‘Cause we--we come here often.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded with a bit of humor. “We’re here every weekend. Well, that or my parent’s house.”

He tried to hide his shock and swallowed it hard. “Your parents? They’re--they’re both here?” Dean sat on the couch with anticipation.

“Yeah…” she chuckled.

“And--and Deb?”

Riley’s forehead creased at his question. “I don’t know a ‘Deb’, Dean. Did you have another drink after I went to bed?”

Almost sad that Riley didn’t even know the aunt she adored so much, he just answered, “no, no. I promise. No drinking.” Dean turned to Mary. “Mom, can, uh--can we stay the night? I just miss the old place, you know?”

“Sure,” she replied hesitantly. “You can both stay in the guest room.” Mary stroked his face gently. “Are you sure you’re alright, honey?”

“I think so.”

Mary bent over and kissed his forehead. The touch was like a breath of fresh air that Dean hadn’t been able to breathe since he was four years old.

“I love you,” she told him.

“Me too.”

As Mary disappeared up the stairs, Riley took Dean’s hand once again. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. And this time...stay put, ‘kay?” she teased with a smile.

------

Waking in a comfortable bed with Riley in his arms, Dean could hear the sound of birds singing outside. His eyes focused on a large picture framed on the wall. It was all of them; Sam, Dean, Mary, and John when they were all younger. John was wearing a Santa hat and they all seemed to be laughing.

He was still there. Dean was still home and he gasped at the realization. Pulling himself away from his sleeping girlfriend, he quietly got up to go leave the room and dialed Sam’s number. His brother’s voicemail answered.

“Hey, it's me. I can't come to the pho--”

Dean hung up and his eyes darted back and forth as he tried to understand what was happening to him.

------

The professor’s office at the local college was filled with books and smelt of old leather and worn pages. The dark man sat at his desk as he looked at Dean. “Well, I don't think I've seen you in my class before.”

“You kiddin' me? I love your lectures. You--you make learning fun,” he said pointing at him with that awkward ‘Dean grin’. They both chuckled.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“What can you tell me about Djinns?��

The professor was slightly taken aback, but also humored. “Djinns. Huh. Haven’t had many of my students ask about those.” He went to his shelf and pulled out a large book before going to a table nearby to open it as Dean went to his side. “Well, a lot of Muslims believed the Djinn are very real. And they're mentioned in the Koran--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Get to the wish part.”

“What about it?”

“Do you think they could really do it?”

“Um--uh, no. No, I don't think they can 'really do it'. You understand these are mythic creatures?”

Yeah, I know. I--I know. I know,” he reiterated, trying to cover his tracks. “But uh--I mean in the stories. You know, say you had a wish, but you never even said it out loud. Like that, uh--that a loved one never died, or that, uh--something awful never happened.”

“Supposedly, yes. I mean they have godlike power. They can alter reality however they want. Past, present, future.”

“Why would the Djinn do it? What, self-defense? Or maybe it's not really evil.”

“Son?” the professor studied Dean with concern. “You been drinking?

“Everybody keeps asking me that. But, uh--no.”

------

As Dean left the campus, he realized there was something he never checked. He fumbled for his keys and opened the Impala’s trunk. Inside was only old magazines, paper cups, and a rag. There were no guns, no weapons or paraphernalia of any kind.

He laughed. “Well, who’d of thought, Baby. We’re civilians.”

Dean closed the trunk and looked back at the building. A girl was standing in a white shirt, skirt, and shoes as she blankly stared at him.

His smile faded as he sensed something strange. Dean watched her for a while and then started across the street toward her.

All of a sudden, a car screeched to a halt as it avoided running into him. The driver slammed on the horn and Dean held out his hand as he looked at the car.

When he turned back toward the girl, she was gone. Dean’s forehead scrunched with curiosity as he went back to the Impala, puzzled.

------

Dean sat at the table of the Winchester’s kitchen with a full sandwich in hand, stuffed with all the fixings. He groaned happily from how delicious it was as he took a massive bite.

“Mm. Mm! Mmm!” he called out with his mouth full. “This is the best sandwich, ever!”

Mary called out from the other room, “well, thank you!”

“I tried to get a hold of Sam earlier. Where is he?”

“Oh, he’ll be here soon.”

“Good, I’m dying to see him.”

Riley came inside with a relaxed sigh as she walked over to the table. “Hi, Mary!” she shouted.

“Hi, sweetie! There’s lunch for you on the table!” Mary still loudly spoke from the other room.

Coming over to meet him, Riley gave Dean a kiss on his full and puffed out cheek. “Hey, you.”

“Mmm. Hey,” he mumbled with a still full mouth. “Where you been?”

She chuckled. “Uh--work at the studio.”

“The studio. Right. Because that’s where you…” Dean hinted for her to answer.

“...teach guitar to kids.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Shouldn’t you be at work, at the garage?”

Dean realized how bewildered she looked. “Right. The garage. I, uh--called out for the day. Needed some time off.”

“Huh. Dad didn’t mention that.”

“...you mean Jackson?” he asked with curiosity.

Riley laughed. “Uh, yeah. Your friggin’ boss.”

“I work at your dad’s garage…”

She took a big bite from her sandwich and chuckled. “You are so fuckin’ weird today.”

------

Dean sat fully content on the porch of his childhood home as he sipped a beer. He had just finished mowing the lawn and found so much joy in the mundane things of a normal life. The fresh smell of the wet grass had him lost in a perfect daydream. Those moments were ones he only dreamed of growing up in the hunting life.

Riley opened the door behind him and joined with a beer in hand. She sat down beside him in the quiet and sipped her drink as the warm sun bathed them both.

“You mowed the lawn? Since when do you mow the lawn?” she playfully asked as her shoulder nudged him.

“Well...since now I guess.”

“Cool. Then you can mow the lawn when we get home too.” Riley gave him a closed and teasing smile that reached from ear to ear while her dimples came out from hiding.

That smile reminded Dean of all the reasons he fell in love with her, the little things that made her so perfect for him.

Dean leaned over and kissed her as his hand went into her hair. “I’d love to. Hey, where’s the mutt by the way?”

“...the mutt?”

“Yeah. Finn, your dog.”

She laughed. “That’s almost cruel, asshole. You know you’d never let me have a dog.”

A blue car pulled up the curb in front of the house before the doors opened. Out came Sam from the driver’s side and Jessica from the passenger’s. The young Winchester went to grab the luggage from the trunk.

Dean uttered to himself, “I don’t believe it.” Hurrying to Jessica and practically attacked her with a hug. “Jessica.”

“Agh! You’re uh--it’s good to see you too, Dean,” she awkwardly replied through the tight squeeze. “Can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry,” he added letting go. Dean turned to his brother with the goofiest and happiest of smiles. “Sammy!” he said patting Sam’s shoulder. “Look at you! You’re with Jessica. I don’t believe it.” Dean laughed. “So where’d you guys come from?”

“We just flew in--” Sam replied, baffled. “...from Califor--”

“California!” Dean finished his sentence. “Right. Stanford! Law school I bet, huh?”

Sam chuckled, somewhat disapprovingly and motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual.”

“Wait. Mom's birthday, that's--that's today?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That's today. That's why we're here.” Sam sighed, annoyed. “Don't tell me you forgot.”

------

Mary and the boys, along with Jessica and Riley, sat at a round table in a high-end restaurant. A slick, white tablecloth and a small lamp with flowers adorned the top. Soft, elegant music floated in the air as the five of them sat with glasses of wine.

The waiter brought over a plate of asparagus spears bound into an upright sheaf and placed it in front of Dean. Displeased with the food he was given, his face scrunched. “Mm. Wow,” he said sarcastically. “That looks...awesome.”

The entire table laughed before Sam proposed a toast in Mary’s honor for her birthday.

“Happy birthday, Mom.”

“Happy birthday, Mary.”

“Thank you,” she said with an enormous grin.

Dean watched his brother as he and Jessica shared a kiss. There was so much happiness between them and Dean couldn’t help but feel so much joy for Sam. Seeing him so content and at peace with his life was all he ever wanted for his little brother.

Turning to Riley, Dean smirked as he admired every part of her. She was in a black cocktail dress with matching heels and delicate dangling earrings. Her hair was softly curled, falling over her shoulders and her lips were painted a soft red that made her eyes look electric. It didn’t matter if she was in his t-shirt, in jeans and a jacket, or a dress, there was never a time he didn’t think she was perfect.

Riley caught his gaze and she beamed at the green eyes staring back her with admiration. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

She was nearly floored at his response. “Wow. Well, thank you,” she giggled. “Been a while since you said something like that.”

Dean couldn’t help the confusion written on his face. “What? I always tell you that.”

“Uh--no...not so much. But, hey--I’m glad you did.” Riley leaned over and kissed him. “Hey,” she whispered discreetly. “After this, you wanna go get a cheeseburger? I can’t eat this crap.”

He smiled. “How did I end up with the most amazing woman?”

“Just lucky I guess. We’ll go before we hit the bar.”

“Oh, I didn’t know we were going to the bar after.”

Riley turned to him with slight worry. “Don’t tell me you forgot about my gig tonight.”

“Your gig?” he asked somewhat excited. “No, no. Of course not.”

“Okay, whew,” she chuckled. “Our change of clothes are in the trunk. I packed before we left.”

“Alright, Jess and I have some news, everyone. Wanted to wait for mom’s birthday to share the news.” Sam could barely contain his thrilled look and took Jessica’s hand.

Mary gazed at her son with a hint of a smile. “Tell us what?”

Sam held up Jessica’s left hand and showed off the engagement ring that sat on her finger.

Mary laughed with elation and went to hug them both. “Oh, my god! That’s so wonderful!” As she embraced Sam, she whispered, “I just wish your dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Sam turned to see Dean standing behind him.

“Congratulations, Sammy. I’m really glad to see you so happy.”

Sam looked almost uncomfortable over Dean’s intensity. “Yeah...thanks.”

Over his little brother’s shoulder, Dean saw the same girl he had run into at the campus earlier. She was much filthier and her face looked tired and drained, her hair completely disheveled.

Dean brushed past Sam and walked over to her. As he passed through the crowded restaurant, Dean finally reached the spot where she had been standing, only to see her gone again.

As he turned around, Dean saw his family looking at him with worry, wondering what had just happened.

------

The bar was busy and bustling that night and everyone had already gone back to change into more comfortable clothes.

Dean sat with his family at a long wooden table with beers and wine across the board. There was a large stage in front of them with instruments lying in wait.

Riley was fidgeting with a napkin, full of nerves.

Dean leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re gonna be amazing.”

“God I hope so,” she sighed. “Dad! Mom!” Riley got up in a hurry and ran across the room.

Dean turned to look as she rushed to her parent's arms as they hugged her.

There they were, Linda and Jackson Munroe. Dean felt his heart swell seeing her so happy.

Riley headed back for the table and the others stood to greet them.

“Hey, Mary. Happy birthday.” Jackson’s voice was huskier than Dean remembered, still tough as nails, but with that gentle smile. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it to dinner,” he added, hugging her.

“No, no--I know you were away the last few days. I’m just glad you’re here,” Mary answered sweetly.

“Not gonna lie,” he started. “I miss John on days like this.”

“Me too.”

Dean went over to greet Riley’s parents and wrapped his arm around his girl. “Linda! Jack! So good to see you.”

“Dean…” Jack replied somewhat plainly.

Slightly stunned at the lack of connection between them, Dean left it at that.

The lights of the bar dimmed on and off letting the patrons know it was time for the performance.

Riley straightened her leather jacket and blew hard through her pursed lips.

“You got this, baby girl,” Jackson told her.

“Good luck, honey,” Linda added.

Riley looked at Dean one last time and he smirked proudly down at her. “Go get ‘em, sweetheart.”

The rest of the band made their way to the stage and the applause and whistles started as they set up.

Riley grabbed an electric guitar and put the strap over her shoulders, the bright lights nearly making her have to squint.

Leaning into the microphone, Riley’s lip curled with a hint of excitement. “You guys ready to rock?” The crowd cheered. “Alright, let’s do this. Happy birthday, Mary!” Her voice went low as she counted, “One, two, three, four…” Riley began her guitar solo until the drums joined her and then the bass. It was Def Leppard’s ‘Photograph’.

“I’m out of luck, out of love. Got a photograph picture of...passion killer, you’re too much. You’re the only one, I wanna touch.” Riley’s eyes went straight for Dean as she smiled through the lyrics. “I see your face every time I dream. On every page, every magazine. So wild, so free, so far from me, you’re all I want...my fantasy. Oh, oh, look what you’ve done to this rock ‘n roll clown. Oh, oh, look what you’ve done...Photograph. I don’t want your...photograph. I don’t need your...photograph. All I’ve got is a photograph. But it’s not enough…”

Dean couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. He laughed with sheer joy and love seeing her completely in her element, doing exactly what she loved. His eyes nearly watered up as he watched her every movement and every flick of her hair. That was the woman of his dreams and he knew it.

A large hand landed on Dean’s shoulder as Jackson sat next to Dean. “You know, that girl is my life. She’s so head over heels for you and can’t see that she could do better.”

“Wait...what?” Dean asked.

“You don’t show up for work, you’re always drinking, you’ve been with her for four years and still say you’re ‘not the marrying type’, whatever the fuck that means. She deserves better, Dean. That girl up there is the best goddamn thing to ever happen to you--don’t blow it. Break her heart, and whether you’re my best friend’s son or not, I’ll break your legs.” Jackson patted Dean’s shoulder and scooted back over to Linda to keep watching Riley’s show.

Dean ‘s heart sank. Riley had been shocked that he called her gorgeous, that he had a nickname for her, and now he learned that she didn’t know if they had a future together. It killed him. Dean knew he had to somehow make it right.

Riley sang the last line of the song and strummed her guitar with a giant smile as the crowd roared with applause.

Dean stood as he whistled and shouted with his hands clapping fiercely. She saw him and her eyes twinkled in the spotlight, sending a shiver down his spine.

That was his forever...Riley.

------

Outside of the bar, everyone was getting ready to leave for the night after Riley’s performance was over. They were all buzzing with their thoughts on how great the show was.

Dean couldn’t keep his hands off Riley and kept on raving about how incredible she was. “Sweetheart, you were just---ugh. You were amazing! They loved you!”

“Always the tone of surprise with you, Winchester,” she teased.

“Thank you all so much for coming tonight,” Mary told them all. “I had such a wonderful birthday.”

Dean kissed Riley hard in front of everyone and then wrapped his arm around her with pride. “And the night isn’t over. Alright!” he started, still grinning like an idiot. “I say we all go back to the house and hang out for a while--catch up.”

“Actually, I think we’re all gonna turn in, sweetie.”

Sam nodded and wrapped his arm around Jessica. “Yeah, it’s been a long day, Dean. We’re beat.”

“Oh, come on. One more drink...as a family.”

“Yeah, maybe another time.”

“Come on, man,” Dean beamed. “Look at us. Huh? We both have beautiful women on our arms. You're engaged, it’s still mom’s birthday, I got a rockstar for a girlfriend...let’s go celebrate!”

There was an awkward silence between everyone before Sam spoke up. “Would you guys excuse us for just a second? I wanna talk to my brother real quick.” The group nodded as he walked away and Dean followed. “Okay, what the hell has gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this whole warm, fuzzy, ecstasy-trip thing.”

“I’m just happy for us, Sammy.”

“Yeah, right. That's another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?” Sam stared at his brother and paused. “Dean, come on. We don't talk outside of holidays.”

“We don't? Well, we should. I mean, you're my brother.”

“‘You're my brother’?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah.”

“You know, that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card, or when you bailed on my graduation, or when you hooked up with Rachel Nave.”

“Who?”

“Uh--my prom date. On prom night.”

The older brother nodded, “Damn. Yeah, that does kinda sound like me. Well, hey man, I'm sorry about all that.” He walked closer to Sam and his little brother backed away.

“No, that--look, that's alright man, I just--you know I'm not asking you to change. I just, uh--I don't know, I...guess we just don't really have anything in common. You know?”

Dean blinked again and again in shock at his brother’s words as Sam began to walk back to the group. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“Hunting.”

“Hunting? I've never been hunting in my life, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, then we should go it sometime. I…” Dean smiled. “I think you'd be great at it.”

Sam began to walk away and then turned to see his brother one last time. “Just--go home and get some rest, Dean.” He continued over to the others and said his goodnights before they all left.

Dean stood where his brother had left him, saddened by how things had turned out in that reality--or dream, or whatever it was. The people he loved the most didn’t even know how much they meant to him. There was so much he had to make right and he was determined to do it.

As Jackson said goodnight to Riley, his eyes shot over to Dean with a disapproving look. It was clear where he stood on Dean’s and Riley’s relationship. She then hugged everyone and jogged over to Dean.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah...I am.”

------

Dean sat on the sofa of his living room, his brow furrowed and his mind wandering. He couldn’t tell if things there were better than his reality. Yes, he finally got the life he always wanted, but the switch cost him so much.

Plopping down on the couch with two beers, Riley handed one to Dean. It was easily after one in the morning, though the couple was still wound from the night.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

He realized how much he missed the connection with her and her telepathy. It brought them so close, made their bond intense in such an amazing way.

“It’s just--there’s a lot that’s not like I pictured, you know?”

“How so?”

“Sammy and I...we don’t get along.”

Riley rubbed his shoulder to comfort him. “Well, you just don’t know each other all that well. Not really surprising with how little time you spend together.”

“Hm.”

She turned his chin in her direction and looked him in his eyes. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Dean’s eyes welled and his voice went to almost a whisper as he told her, “I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Apparently, I haven’t been as good to you as I should have been. I mean, your dad hates my guts.”

Riley chuckled softly. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just...protective.”

“I should have been telling you every day how beautiful you are, how you constantly surprise me in the most amazing ways, how much I love you.”

“Well, I love you too, Dean.”

He shifted in his seat to look at her more intently and put his hand on the side of her face. “You’re the one, Rye. You’re it. And if you want a future with me, then I’ll give you everything you want. All I want is to be with you and make you happy.”

She swallowed hard as her emotions built. “What’s going on with you lately?”

“This isn't gonna make a lick of sense to you. But I kind of feel like I've been given a second chance and I don't wanna waste it.”

“Yup. Doesn’t make any damn sense,” she giggled.

Dean kissed her more passionately than he could ever remember. His lips spoke for his heart and soul and told her how deeply he loved her.

Riley went weak as she melted into him and felt it all as she returned the feelings. “Whatever’s gotten into you,” she said, “I like it.”

He looked deep into her blue eyes and lost himself as his thumb ran over her jaw. Dean needed her to know that she was his everything and he was going to show her.

Dean returned to their fervent kisses and pulled her close until they were flushed together. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she moaned as he gently picked her up to lay her down on the sofa. Dean’s lips softly trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck and up towards her ear where he breathed into her ear.

As she played with his hair, he whispered, “it’s you and me. Always.”

Riley pulled away only to look at him again and her eyes darted back and forth between those beautiful green eyes that made her heart flutter. “Always.”

Slowly, he took off her tank top before lifting off his shirt. Their bare, warm skin together felt like home in the most perfect way. Dean expertly undid her jeans, never taking his mouth away from her. He undressed them both and then removed her bra.

They locked eyes as he brushed the hair from her face and their mouths went agape as he connected them.

Dean and Riley groaned and moaned in pleasure with how perfectly they fit together. All that love and passion came to life in that single moment of bliss.

Riley panted in his ear and his hand explored her body as the other cradled her head and intertwined with her hair. She gasped at his movements and he was lost in all she was.

Every movement of her face, every sound from her lips, breathed life into Dean and drove him on. He never wanted that moment to end.

As they made love on that couch, Dean knew that they could have a real life together; a life without hunting, without death and constant danger, the normal and happy life that he so desperately wanted to give her.

Riley was his other half and no matter what world they were in, it made his heart soar knowing they would always find each other.

------

Later, Dean still sat wide awake with a blanket covering him and Riley as she slept in his lap. His fingers ran through her hair absent-mindedly as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

He rolled through a cooking channel, a cartoon, and then finally the news.

The reporter for the station went through the evening's highlights.

“And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424.” At the reporter’s words, Dean’s eyes grew and he leaned forward as he turned up the volume. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives…”

“No, no. I stopped that crash,” he muttered to himself. Dean gently snuck from under Riley and replaced his lap with a pillow for her before getting up.

Throwing on his jeans, he ran to get his laptop and searched headlines from the last few years on cases he, Sam, and Riley had solved.

“Indianapolis Sun”- December 5th, 2005 - ‘FLIGHT 424 CRASHES, 108 DEAD; Tragedy shocks the nation, as emergency crews continue to search rubble.’

‘Nine Children Comatose - mystery illness baffles doctors at Dane County Hospital.’

‘Parents Mutilated in Bed - brutal double homicide in quiet residential area causes shock.’

‘Girl Drowns in Indoor Pool - Mother devastated after discovering daughter drowned.’

Dean felt he was going to be sick reading about all the lives he had failed to save. Living the life he had always wanted, meant people died and continued to without him and his family hunting.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the woman dressed in white once again turn and walk down his hallway.

He quickly went to follow her. Dean let her lead him into his and Riley’s bedroom, but she was nowhere to be found.

Opening the closet door, Dean jumped in shock as he saw two, rotted, female corpses hanging inside.

A sound came from behind him and he spun around to see the ghostly woman, flickering in front of him, with a wound in her forehead and covered in blood. He panted, looking terrified and turned back to look in the closet, only to find nothing out of the ordinary.

------

The cool Kansas night was Dean’s only company in the Lawrence city graveyard. He stood in front of a large headstone, staring down at the inscription.

JOHN E. WINCHESTER

1954-2006

LOVING HUSBAND & FATHER

REMEMBERED FOREVER

“All of them--everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy, Rye and I saved. They're all dead. And there's this woman, that's haunting me. I don't know why. I don't know what the connection is, not yet anyway. It's like my old life is--is coming after me or something. Like it--like it doesn't want me to be happy. ‘Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... ‘So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?’ But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?” Dean began to cry as he spoke to his father’s grave. “What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's not supposed to get married? Riley isn’t supposed to have a normal life with her parents again? I can’t have a real life with the only woman I’ve ever wanted to be with? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?” He paused as his lips trembled.

He couldn’t understand. All Dean ever wanted was to be happy, to have peace. And now that he had it, it was tainted...stained by the truths that he knew and the burden he carried on his shoulders since he was a child.

The sound of the sky rumbling above, letting itself be known over the silent graveyard.

Tears fell down Dean’s cheek and he wiped them away.

------

After hearing a noise coming from downstairs, Sam awoke and hurried out of bed. He grabbed a baseball bat and tiptoed down the stairs. Stopping in the doorway of the Winchester house, he looked into the living room. He saw the window open and beneath it, someone rifling through one of the cabinets.

Sam went in swinging, ready for a fight.

The person got up and counterattacked, throwing him to the floor. It was Dean that hovered above him.

“That was so easy, I'm embarrassed for you,” Dean joked through his ragged breath.

“Dean? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I, uh--was looking for a beer.”

Sam looked at his brother with disbelief. “In the china cabinet?” He went to turn on the light and saw a box with their parents’ silverware on the floor, opened. “That's Mom's silver. You--you broke into the house...to steal Mom's silver?”

“It's not what it looks like. Okay? I didn't have a choice.”

“Oh, really? Why? What's so fucking important you gotta steal from your own mother?”

“You want the truth?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Sam scoffed.

Dean shrugged. “I owe somebody money,” he lied. “A bookie. I lost big on a game, I gotta bring him the cash tonight.”

Groaning, Sam replied, “I can't believe we're even related.”

“...Sam, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah,” the younger brother said softly.

“I'm sorry that we don't get along and I wish to hell I could stay and fix it. But I gotta do this--people’s lives depend on it.” Dean turned around and took a knife from the box.

“What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Just, uh--hey, tell Mom I love her. And, tell Jackson I’m sorry...that he was right.”

Sam frowned seeing that something was up with Dean as his big brother went for the door. “Dean.”

Looking at Sam one last time, Dean feigned a smile. “I'll see you, Sammy.” He opened the front door and turned his eyes to memorize the house one last time before leaving and closing the door behind him.

------

Sitting in the Impala as the engine was on, Dean waited in the same parked spot, lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, the passenger side door opened and Sam got into the car.

“Sam, get out of my car.”

“I’m going with you.”

“You’re just gonna slow me down. This is too dangerous. You could get hurt,” Dean’s voice rose as he spoke firmly and adamantly to his little brother.

“Tough,” Sam bit. “Look, whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not doing it alone and that's that.”

Dean froze and just stared back at Sam. “I don't understand. Why you doing this?”

“Because you're still my brother,” Sam sighed.

There was a silence between them and Dean smirked. “Bitch.”

Sam’s neck snapped in Dean’s direction. “What? What are you calling me a bitch for?”

“You’re supposed to say ‘jerk’. Never mind.”

As he went to put the car into gear, the back door of Baby creaked open and shut. The brothers turned around and there was Riley with a nonchalant look on her face.

“Alright, where we going?”

“Uh--you’re not going anywhere. You need to go home,” Dean told her.

“Pfft. I don’t fuckin’ think so. Something’s up and I wanna know what it is. You’re not going without me, so you might as well drive.” Riley folded her arms and leaned back in the seat, letting him know she was ready to go.

Dean exhaled heavily with worry as he pulled the Impala onto the road.

------

There was a duffel bag sat on the floor of the backseat. Riley leaned over to look and pulled it into her lap. “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing,” Dean said calmly.

“Nothing, huh?”

Riley unzipped the bag and as she did, Dean tried to stop her. “Trust me, you’re not gonna wanna do that.”

Taking out what was in the bag, Riley held a container of blood. Her face was one of pure disgust and Sam turned to look at it as his eyes widened. “What the fuck is this?” she asked.

“Blood.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Why the hell do you have a container of blood?!”

Sam faced his brother. “What the fuck is going on, Dean?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, no...we do...we really do wanna know.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well you're gonna find out sooner or later. I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood.”

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?”

“Because there's this creature--a Djinn, and I have to hunt it.”

“Okay, um--stop the car.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“Do you, Dean?!” Riley asked emphatically.

“It's the truth. Alright, there are things out there in the dark. There--there are bad things. There are nightmare things and people have to be saved and if we don't save them, then nobody will.”

Riley leaned back again and ran both her hands over her hair, pushing it back. “Oh, my god. My boyfriend’s losing his mind.”

“Look, we wanna help you, alright?” Sam spoke softly hoping not to spook Dean. “I--I really, really do, but you're having some kind of psychotic breakdown, so, I...just--”

“I wish,” Dean uttered.

Sam picked up his phone and began dialing a number.

As he did, Dean calmly rolled down his window and grabbed Sam’s phone from his hands before chucking it out the window. He then coolly rolled it back up as if nothing had happened.

“What the fuck was that, Dean? That was my phone!”

“I'm not going to a rubber room, Sammy and we got work to do.”

“What? I was just trying to help you out, Dean. I don't--I don't want you to get yourself hurt.”

“What? You protect me?”

“Yeah!”

Dean laughed. “Oh, that's hilarious. Why don't you just sit tight and try not to get us all killed.”

Before anyone else could weigh in, Dean turned up the radio as ‘Mr. Saturday Night Special’ blared out.

------

Dean looked over at both of his partners, who were both sound asleep. He picked up his flashlight and turned it on before shining it in their faces to wake them up.

“Where are we?” Riley groaned.

“Well, we're not in Kansas anymore.” Dean chuckled at his joke and when there was no reaction, his smile died. “Illinois.”

Sam looked out at the large building they had parked in front of. “And you think something's in there?”

“I know it is.”

Once they were all inside the factory building, the three of them looked around, all with flashlights in hand.

“Dean…” Riley almost whined. “See? Nothing’s here.”

Dean started walking down the hallway toward the same place he was attacked as Riley and Sam followed close behind.

There was a sound somewhere nearby and the two untrained hunters jumped. They both started to take the situation more seriously as they grew a little more afraid.

“Um, what the fuck is that?” Sam nearly gulped.

Dean turned to whisper to them. “Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut.”

The three entered a large, open space where bodies were hanging from the ceiling. They were the same bodies Dean had seen in the closet earlier.

A large and drained blood bag hung next to one of the victims.

Riley tried to control her horror. “What...the actual...fuck?”

Dean looked further to the right where he saw the woman that had been haunting him since he first woke up in that different reality. They all approached her and saw yet another blood bag next to her that was being filled with her blood. Her eyes were open, but she looked close to death.

“It's her,” Dean said to himself.

The young Winchester and Riley both looked closer to see that the girl’s wrists are tied above her where she was held up by a large hook.

She moaned and whimpered as she slowly came to.

Sam’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Dean, what's going on?”

Dean grabbed him and Riley and pushed them both behind him. “Shh!”

They all rushed to the other side of a fence to hide behind leftover items of the abandoned warehouse.

The Djinn came out from the darkness and stared at the woman he had kept as his captive.

She sobbed, weakly. “Where's my dad? I won't tell--please. Please just don’t hurt me anymore.” The woman continued to weep. “Where's my dad.”

Reaching out to touch her face the Djinn told her, “sleep.” Blue flares went over her cheek as he stroked her and his eyes glowed a bright blue. “Sleep…sleep…”

Her head fell forward with her eyes still open and her feet relaxed as her body went limp.

The Djinn rested his face against her, touching her right arm and breathing heavily with his eyes closed. Pulling down what looked like a straw from the blood bag, he put it to his mouth and began to suck as he drank her warm, fresh blood.

When the creature was finally satiated, it walked up the creaky stairs nearby. The sound of a door closed in the distance as it disappeared.

Both Sam and Riley breathed heavy with fear. “This is real?” Sam asked. “You're not crazy?”

“She didn't know where she was,” Dean thought out loud to himself. “She thought she was with her father.” They all walked up to the woman as he finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. “What if that's what the Djinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.”

Riley patted his arm several times. “Dean, let’s get out of here. That creepy thing could come back.”

Dean walked past them both in the opposite direction and glanced up at the light bulb swinging above him. It flickered to a nearly blinding glow as Dean saw flashes of himself, hanging by his wrists just like the bound woman.

The hunter began to gag and had difficulty breathing as he panicked, realizing what was happening to him.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged.

“What if I'm like her?” Dean panted heavily. “What if I'm tied up in here someplace? What if all this is in my head? I mean it could--you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow.”

“No. Dean, that doesn't make sense. Okay?”

“What if that's why she keeps appearing to me? She's not a spirit. It's--it's like more and more like I'm catching flashes of reality. You know, like I'm in here somewhere,and I'm--I'm catatonic. I'm taking all this stuff in, but I--but I can't snap out of it.”

Riley grew more and more anxious as she kept scanning everywhere around them. “Okay, Dean--you’re not crazy. We know that. This is all real and we were wrong. But we have got to get out of here or we’re screwed.”

Grabbing his brother’s jacket, Sam began to pull Dean in his direction. Dean pulled his arm loose from his hold and Sam looked at him as he threw his arms up as if saying, ‘what?’

“I don't think you're real. Either of you.”

Sam grew more and more agitated and grabbed Dean by the arm. “Dude, you feel that? You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now, please--”

“I’m real, Dean. We’re both real.” Riley took Dean’s hand. “Please.”

“There's one way to be sure,” Dean told them as he pulled out the silver knife.

She gasped. “Oh, my god. What are you doing? Honey, put down the knife.”

“It's an old wives' tale. If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Sam fumbled over his words in fear. “That's crazy. Alright?”

With a determined look, Dean said, “...maybe.”

Sam started walking back towards Dean who had taken several steps away. “You're gonna kill yourself--”

Dean held out the knife and his other hand telling him to stop and back off. “...or I'm gonna wake up. One or the other.”

Tears fell from Riley’s eyes as she pleaded with Dean and fought through her gasps, “this isn’t a dream. You’re going to kill yourself and Sam and I are both right here with you.”

“No, I'm pretty sure. Well, like--90% sure. But I'm sure enough.” Dean turned the knife on himself and took the handle in both hands ready to thrust it into himself.

“Wait!” Sam screamed.

From the shadows, Mary walked in toward her oldest son, in the same nightgown she died in that horrible night. Behind them, Jessica appeared and joined them all.

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam asked. “Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?” Dean looked around at all the people he loved. “You were happy.”

Mary went to stand in front of Dean and peered up at him as she softly spoke to him, “put the knife down, honey.”

“You're not real,” he told her with tears in his eyes. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had.”

“What?”

“It's everything you want,” Mary smiled. “We're a family again. Let’s go home.”

Dean shook his head. “I’ll die,” his voice broke. “The Djinn...it’ll drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But, in here, with us, it'll feel like years--like a lifetime.”

Dean looked over at Sam and Riley and they half-smiled.

Mary took his chin in her hand and he looked down at her. “I promise. No more pain,” she told him as she stroked his cheek. “...or fear. Just love and comfort...and safety. Dean, stay with us.” Mary stroked his other cheek and he leaned into her hand as he closed his eyes. “Get some rest.”

“You don't have to worry about Sam anymore,” Jessica said with a grin and he turned to her. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

Mary stepped away and Riley walked up to him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “We can have a real future together here, Dean. No more wondering if we’ll even get to live to be old. We could have our own family like we never could as hunters. I love you, Dean. Please...stay here with me.”

“Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam questioned. “Haven't we done enough? I'm begging you,” he breathed in heavily. “Give me the knife.

Dean looked at Riley, Sam, and Mary with tears in his eyes. He backed away, his eyes cast down at the floor and then raised his head to look at his brother and the woman he loved.

The hunter took a deep breath as he whispered, “I'm sorry.” Thrusting the knife into himself, blood immediately came out of Dean’s mouth.

Voices echoed around him. “Dean! Dean! Dean!”

“No, no, no, no, no…” Riley begged as she shook him. “Wake up, Dean. Wake up!”

Dean groaned a little and his eyes began to focus on them both.

“Oh, my god. Hey, we’re here, Dean. We’re here.”

“Ahh…” Dean groaned. “Auntie Em, there's no place like home.”

“Thank god,” Sam sighed in relief. “I thought we lost you for a second.” He pulled the needle from his brother’s throat.

“You almost did.”

“Jesus Christ. Rye help me get him down.”

They both reached up and started to cut through the large rope as Dean winced over the pain and grunted a little.

Two bright blue eyes appeared next to Sam in the shadows as the Djinn came out.

Dean saw the creature and shouted, “Sam!”

The Winchester turned around, going for the Djinn with the knife. The creature grabbed Sam for a moment and got him to drop the blade.

Riley was working as quickly as possible to pull Dean down from the loosened rope.

Meanwhile, The Djinn got the upper hand on Sam and held him by the throat. The monster’s hand glowed blue and moved to touch the hunter’s forehead while Sam struggled and pushed against his wrist trying to stop him. The Djinn opened his fist, the blue light spreading over its entire hand.

When the creature was nearly at Sam’s forehead, Riley thrust the knife into the back of the Djinn and turned it inside its flesh. The blue light from its eyes went out and they closed as the Djinn’s head rolled down. When Riley pulled out the knife, the monster fell to the ground, dead.

Sam was breathing heavily from being strangled and Dean laid on the concrete floor behind them, his face pale with red-rimmed eyes. He pulled himself up to stand and walked up next to the girl that had hung nearby. Dean put his hand up to her neck, feeling for a pulse.

A tear rolled down one of her cheeks.

“She's still alive! Rye the knife…” He pulled the tube from her neck as Riley cut the rope and Sam held her steady. Dean caught her as her limp body dropped down. “I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get you out of here, okay? I gotcha.”

A small wheezing sound escaped the girl’s bleeding throat.

“I got you.”

------

Sitting on the edge of the motel bed, Dean leaned on his knees with his hands clasped together, his head hung. The tacky room around him smelt old and like a strange wood as the antique lamps hung nearby lighting up the room.

Sam was on the phone listening to the other end. “Okay, uh--thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye.” He hung up at looked to Dean. “That was the hospital--girl's been stabilized. Good chance she's gonna pull through.”

“That's good,” he replied.

As Riley heard the tone of Dean’s voice, she went over to his side and sat on the bed. “What about you, though? You okay?”

Clearing his throat, he answered, “yeah, I'm alright.” Dean paused. “You should have seen it, guys--our lives. And Sam, you were such a wuss.”

Sam chuckled. “So we didn't get along then, huh?”

“Nah.”

“I thought it was supposed to be this--I dunno...perfect fantasy or something. That doesn’t sound so perfect to me,” Riley added. “Was I there?”

“Of course you were. But no, it wasn’t perfect. I wished for Mom to live, that Mom never died, we never went hunting and Sam, you and me--you know...”

Sam’s hands found his pockets as he leaned on the wall. “I’m just glad you pulled yourself out of it. Most people wouldn't have had the strength--would have just stayed.”

“Yeah...lucky me. I gotta tell you though, man. You know, you had Jess, Mom was gonna have grandkids, Rye and I were gonna have a real life together...”

“Yeah, but, Dean-- it wasn't real.”

“I know. But I wanted to stay.” Dean looked sad, almost lost.

Riley could feel it all and she knew how hard it had been for him to leave. She took his hand in hers as he went on.

“I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad...all I can think about is how much this job's cost us.” He stopped to gaze up at them both. “We've lost so much. We've...sacrificed so much.”

“But people are alive because of you,” Sam told him and Dean scoffed at the thought. “It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair, and...you know, it hurts like hell, but...it's worth it.”

Dean looked down again, sad and pensively. “I wanted to stay....”

Tightening her grip on his hand, Riley heard his thought and sent one of her own. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

He glanced up at her again and she smirked. Dean realized just how grateful he was to have that connection with her again. It made them closer than anything ever had and his forehead leaned against hers.

“We can still have a life together--here. What we have is real, Dean. That’s better than any fantasy. This life is ours.”

He kissed her sweetly and a small smile curled on his face. “You’re better than any dream…”

------

S2 Chapter 12: All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1

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tespuco · 5 years

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PotC Liveblog: Dead Man’s Chest

I’d been looking forward to rewatching DMC for some time. It was the movie that canonized my OTP and inspired so many amazing Sparrabeth fics. I fondly recalled seeing it in theaters with my family, my eyes and shipper heart growing bigger and wider with every subtext-laden appearance of Jack’s compass. I remembered feeling personally betrayed by Elizabeth’s death-kiss, like the writers had deliberately buoyed my hopes only to ruthlessly crush them. Unlike CotBP, I had only seen DMC once before, and I couldn’t wait to appreciate the complicated Jack/Elizabeth dynamic with more mature eyes.

Boy, was I disappointed. Not by the Sparrabeth, thank the gods, but by literally everything else.

Is it just me or was this movie composed of a bunch of standalone scenes and set pieces strung together? Did they bring in Tim Burton just to direct the visuals of the interrupted wedding scene? Why does the Turkish prison sequence look like the opening cutscene to a high fantasy RPG videogame with the brightness setting turned down to zero?

OK I laughed at Jack popping out of the coffin and using a femur as a paddle, but I’m confused about everything else

Oh look, the crew’s on the verge of mutiny again, and this time it is Jack’s fault

Listen, I have Ted Elliott’s compass meta tattooed on my heart, but in retrospect the “Why is all the rum gone?” scene was probably too subtle. The audience doesn’t even know at this point how the compass is supposed to work. Maybe if they had the balls to actually include the deleted Sparrabeth scenes in CotBP, Jack’s emotional turmoil wouldn’t have seemed so opaque!

Still, a character being Vexed about their affections/feelings and doing a poor job of managing that vexation is my idea of high romance

(and both Jack and Elizabeth are quite vexed with each other indeed)

I CANNOT believe I had to sit through an uninterrupted half hour of racist filler that does absolutely fuck-all to advance the plot while ticking at least four boxes on my postcolonial bingo card what the fucking fuck

Let’s tally the cinematic sins: unfunny physical comedy in a style that would’ve been more suited to animation; indigenous cannibals speaking in unrealistic, buffoonish gibberish; said cannibals worshiping our hero (and later a dog) as a deity; and worst of all--

All the brown men that Gibbs hired as extras additional crew for the Black Pearl in DMC were put into a separate cage from the recurring white characters from CotBP (btw Anamaria is absent without even a throwaway line of explanation) because apparently even barbaric islanders know and practice segregation

And so segregated, the crew enters the stupidest, most contrived rat race up a cliffside with each other that ends with the brown people’s cage falling into the ravine THEREBY GETTING RID OF ALL THE CHARACTERS OF COLOR IN ONE FELL SWOOP

Also egregious racism aside, I’m put off by the film’s rather cavalier attitude towards gratuitous loss of life? Idk I feel like in the midst of all the action and adventure CotBP knew how to handle death and violence with the appropriate modicum of gravity and horror

Meanwhile on the island Gibbs is just like “oiya we’re standing in cages built from the bones of our former shipmates ha ha”

As for Jack - Jack has yet to save a cat or anything else besides his own skin, so he’s rapidly losing the goodwill he accumulated in the first film

holy shit yet another Elizabeth Swann-related realization about my sexual awakening: her look as a cross-dressing stowaway - pretty, delicate features in a boyish, flat-chested, slender form - is literally my sexuality

She’s literally pulling the strings of all the men on that ship! What a puppet-master queen

Tia Dalma’s interest in Will and the “touch of destiny” line is an interesting bit of foreshadowing that doesn’t get any payoff in this film. DMC and AWE have been criticized for being impossible to watch as standalone films, but I think there’s something to be said for a universe that strives for internal continuity and demands more than a casual investment in its proceedings (a related but distinct model from the MCU)

If you gave me half a reason to I would ship Jack Sparrow with anybody and everybody. Look at the flirtatious lines and looks he exchanges with Tia Dalma!! Give me that story! (Actually, artaxastra did, twice: once in her standalone Creole!Jack origin story, And All of Them True, and once again in Gods and Heroes, a Jack/Calypso interlude in her Outlaws and Inlaws ‘verse)

Tia Dalma’s acceptance (and release) of Jack’s payment for her services tells me two things about her that I really like: (1) she’s like a magpie that collects interesting miscellany (witty tricksters, cunning pirate lords, undead monkeys). and (2) she’s not interested in caging creatures (the foreshadowing!!)

FINALLY WE GET SOME JACK/ELIZABETH INTERACTION

God bless Keira’s face and acting choices!! The chemistry!! All the little smiles and smirks they share!!

How doth she look at thee? Let me count all the ways: her amused, tentatively credulous smile at Jack’s storytelling and posturing over a magical compass and chest, while Norrington scoffs disbelievingly in the background; her having to bite her lips and walk away before Jack notices her giddiness because she literally cannot handle their flirting; her little laugh as he gently rebuffs the idea that he’s a good man

Also “I have faith in you. Both of you,” were her parting words to Will and here she gets a chance to tell Jack in person yay

Their little dance of “persuasion” is hot and all (Jack literally looks like he has to bite back a groan and whimper), but I’m really here for the banter (“Friendly?” / “Decidedly not.”); they get each other, and, under the right conditions, can communicate so effortlessly

“Why doesn’t your compass work?” - alright so ofc I love the legendary “curiosity” exchange, but I’m so confused by the abrupt transition in their conversation here? Like why didn’t she follow through and tug on that line of inquiry?? The “Because you and I are alike” line that follows makes no logical sense in context (ETA: I guess it could suggest that Elizabeth already knows why the compass doesn't work for him, because he's torn between doing the right thing and the selfish thing... But at this point she doesn't suspect him of lying to her, so...idek)

“You’d never put me in a position that would compromise my honor” - my god what a TEASE my queer heart

Oh, Norrington, what’s happened to you?? What happened to serving others, not just himself?? :(( It kinda confuses me that he goes on about the “dark side of ambition” and the “promise of redemption” when he’s the one who voluntarily resigned from his post...

Norrington carrying both shovels while Jack just poses prettily though lol

JACK’S COMPASS FINALLY WORKS FOR HIM BECAUSE THE TWO THINGS HE WANTS MOST IN THE WORLD--THE CHEST AND ELIZABETH--ARE IN THE SAME PLACE AND HE KNOWS IT

idk I guess some people find the three-way swordfighting scene hilarious but I’m with Elizabeth on this one: men are stupid

ugh this script makes no sense

I’m so fucking confused by the narrative logic here: if Jones is dead, there’s no one to call off the Kraken?? But isn’t Jones the one calling the Kraken in the first place, to settle Jack’s debt? So if they killed Jones, wouldn’t the debt be null and void? NO JONES, NO KRAKEN, DUUUH.

OK but Jack is really unlikable in this film, last-minute “heroic” acts notwithstanding. Give me fix-it fics please

I mean it’s rather telling that by the time Jack returns to the Pearl there are only enough survivors to fill a single longboat. Oh yes he “saved them all” - the few that were left!!

This script has more holes in it than the Pearl does right now: everyone unquestioningly follows Will’s orders like he’s the captain (what happened to the dork who shouted, “Aye! Avast!”?? And there’s no evidence that since his engagement post-CotBP he’s practiced any sailing)

I mean it’s like no one but Elizabeth even noticed Jack was gone; the moment he comes back Gibbs chirps, “Captain, orders?” as if he never left. This coward just abandoned you all!!!

“It’s only a ship, mate.” - This is actually just the saddest line, and I’m glad Elizabeth was there to witness it because if there’s one thing she took away from their fireside conversation in CotBP it’s that the Black Pearl is more than a ship to Jack; what it really is is freedom, and here Jack’s set to lose both

And that’s what Elizabeth--not the Kraken--definitively takes from Jack: his freedom. Not just his ability to run away from his fate, but also the chance to take a stand and face it. (I like to think that, more than the murderous act itself, is what he finds so hard to forgive post-DMC. The darker Jack in salr323′s oneshot, Perfidy, written post-AWE, articulates this eloquently: “You know nothing of my debt, love, nor of my payment. But had you allowed me a nobler death, my account might have been lighter.”) His last act of defiance entails reclaiming what choice he has left: slipping slickly out of his shackles, hat on, “hello beastie,” into the monster’s maw.

Ugh they could have given Jack’s whole arc with Davy Jones such PATHOS instead of waiting until the very end--he struck a deal with the devil in all his youth and despair and hubris; now the bell is tolling and he realizes 13 years is nothing, no time at all, and he’s not ready to die; not today, not ever--yes it’s selfish and dishonorable (Will’s willing to square the debt of a father he hardly ever knew; he wouldn’t have blinked at paying his own) but how human is that? to fight and run even as the flames lick your heels?

omg Jack is the jackrabbit

The irony of that eulogy still gives me feelings tho: “Guess that honest streak finally won out.” Elizabeth wrested away Jack’s control over his own story, so now she has to write it for him. When she toasts, “He was a good man,” it’s in both unearned homage and recompense.

“And the world is a little less bright.” - OK but that’s too much. Moving words from Gibbs, but here it’s like he’s speaking directly to/for the audience, and not in a good way. It’s too obviously meta, and especially out of place in a film where Jack did not shine very bright at all

In-universe, it’s not very believable that two pirates like Pintel and Ragetti--who mutinied against Jack before, without a hint of remorse!--would now risk their lives to save him

Honestly if Disney wanted to include familiar faces/fan favorites in the supporting cast for AWE, they could’ve easily written a more realistic line like, “what the hell do we have to lose?” or some more selfish motive, none of these panegyrics

btw who are the native people standing in the swampwater? holding candles with mournful tears in their eyes?? no seriously who are they??? (I dearly hope such a striking tableau was meant to hint at Jack’s history with Tia Dalma and the residents of this bayou, but the more cynical part of me thinks: “Now hiring: extras of color, to play the part of human candlesticks lit in exaltation of an ambiguously white man” The writers get no benefit of the doubt from me after forcing me to sit through that cannibal island act)

It sounds sadistic of me but seeing how anguished Elizabeth is after claiming she’s not sorry gives me life

She keeps crying, and can’t even bring herself to drink Tia Dalma’s concoction against cold and sorrow! She just fakes a sip, which is such a great little character beat, because it shows she doesn’t think she deserves the remedy! She’ll just have to live with it...

That is, until Will decides he can’t stand the sight of her grief, and opens up Pandora’s box for her despite just catching her passionately kissing another man: “If there was anything to be done to bring him back, Elizabeth...” He really is too good for this world

And Elizabeth MUST know there’s a price, that she’d be staking not just her own life and happiness but her betrothed’s, and yet selfishly, always selfish, she says, “Yes”

BARBOSSA!!! Still the most epic character reveal ever. I still remember the theater bursting into gasps and applause, good times

#i've had this in my drafts folder for too long along with a whole bunch of dmc reblogs #it's time to air them out they're starting to stink #tl;dr i could've watched the youtube videos compiling the 12 minutes of jack/elizabeth interaction instead of the entirety of dmc #and i don't think i would've missed out on much #t-recs #the long and short of the meta #pirates of the caribbean

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