today is my tattoo's first day to breathe and I'm so scared to take off the bandage jabdhwbdbhwhw

ink

leon has tattoos. ethan was never informed.

leon/ethan. mild swearing. smug leon, done-with-life ethan. fluffy!

It's fine. It's fine. This is totally fine.

Is it weird? Is he weird? God, he must be weird. It's nothing to get this riled up over, yet here he is, peeking over at Leon every now and then to catch a quick glimpse of the ink that spirals up his forearm.

Ethan bites his lip. Twirls the pen in his hand and clicks the button on top a few times, his desk work momentarily forgotten.

No, this isn't normal. Then again, neither is Leon with tattoos, so how is one supposed to think? React? He's been pretty good about hiding his (admittedly disturbing) attraction to the special agent; but things like this… well, they're on the same level as glasses, or piercings. A small change that—for a select few—can turn their entire world on an axis.

How far up do they go?

Does he have more?

When did he get them, and what do they symbolize?

"Ethan?"

The blonde startles, blue eyes flickering up in embarrassment.

Leon blinks at him. "What's your damage?"

Oh, Jesus Christ. "Nothing, sorry. Just a little spacey… today."

"I'll say."

Ethan hurriedly scoots closer to his desk, quickly turning his attention back to the papers that scatter across it. He isn't even sure what he's supposed to be doing with these, or why he even got assigned to deal with them, but if things keep going the way they are, he's gonna be here all fucking night.

Ethan frowns. And then he hesitates, realization dawning on him slowly that… hey, doesn't Leon work crazy late hours, too?

No.. no, no. He's on the clock. He needs to pay attention…

"Ethan." It isn't a question this time. Ethan meets Leon's gaze with a sheepish expression, and the other man draws his brows together. "Seriously, what's going on with you?"

How does one go about confessing their guilty, weird, quid-pro-quo attraction to their superior without coming off as a freak? Better yet, how does one go about it without getting fired? Ethan feels a cold sweat prickle beneath the collar of his button-up.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

"I like…" It's like there's a solid chunk of ice stuck in his throat. "Well, I mean, your… you know."

Leon's look of concern quickly shifts into one of bewilderment. "No?" He says, real slow-like. "I don't know."

Ethan wants to die.

"It's just…"

The atmosphere in the room shifts. Ethan's hands are clammy and cold and he regrets even opening his mouth; wishing he could've just opted to say that he feels sick and his head hurts, and maybe even take the rest of the night off so he could reflect on all of this – perhaps over a nice glass of red wine. Instead, because he's terrible at socializing and even worse at socializing with Leon, he's currently staring the agent down with terror flashing in his eyes.

Leon doesn't say anything, but it's obvious that he's dying to get this over with, just like Ethan is.

"Y– you can't get mad," Ethan stammers, clenching his fingers.

More silence.

Ethan sighs. Then, finally, he lays down his cards with a quiet, "Your tattoos."

Leon tilts his head. "... Mine?" He asks, a bit delayed, and Ethan has never wanted to evaporate into thin air more than he does right now.

"Yeah."

"Like, the ones on my arms?" Leon rotates his wrists, glancing down at his own artwork. 

"Yeah."

"Ah." 

Great. When should he start packing up his belongings? Now? Tomorrow? There's a spare produce box in the break room, and he only has a couple of personal items on his desk. His name placard, a picture of his childhood dog, a cup full of pens he got on clearance at Staples…

Although Ethan doesn't get to stand up or prepare before Leon is speaking again, his voice surprisingly nonchalant. 

"And...?"

Ethan sucks in a deep breath. That's a good question. "They're… distracting me?" Vague enough to keep matters civil. He can do this. "And that's why I'm a little… slow, today. I think. Because they're doing that. Distracting me, I mean."

Leon hums, acknowledging that he heard Ethan's answer. He waits, silent until Ethan manages to scrounge up the courage to meet him eye-to-eye, and then he laughs.

There's something to be said about the way in which Leon handles all things; from topics as serious as bioweapons wreaking havoc on unsuspecting townhomes, to things like this – Ethan admitting he's intrigued by the older man's ink. He's good at finding the balance while still remaining cool and collected, and that's a trait Ethan's always admired.

Because, sadly, he cannot do that.

"I knew there was something about you, Winters," Leon says jovially, as if he's uncovered some grand secret. He leans back in his chair, pushes himself a little further away from his desk, and says: "Do you want to come have a better look?"

Ethan nearly chokes on his spit. "W– wh– what?"

Leon's grin widens. He's enjoying this. "I can't have distractions in the workplace. So if you're curious, and think it might help you refocus, I implore you to get your ass over here and take a gander."

The blonde flusters, his lips screwing into a scowl. Implore. What did this guy know about words like that?

Regardless, he still obediently gathers himself to his feet, taking the necessary steps to close the distance between him and Leon. The fine hairs on the back of Ethan's neck stand at attention, and he's acutely aware of the personal bubble he is now officially bursting— not that Leon seems to notice, or mind.

Infact, the only thing he does when Ethan comes to stand beside his chair is jut both arms out, letting Ethan do whatever he likes.

Instinctively, Ethan grabs them. Then panics, because holy shit, he's touching Leon fucking Kennedy. Then double panics, because why did he do that? Why is he still doing it right now?

"Uh…"

"You just wanted to hold hands?"

"N– no!" Ethan exclaims, immediately letting go. Leon bursts out into full-bellied laughter, and the blonde has to take a deep breath before he passes out from his nerves. "Jesus, Leon, I– I was trying to bring them a little closer."

"Oh right, the bad eyesight," Leon drawls. "I forgot you wear glasses sometimes. Near-sighted?"

"Far-sighted. Now shut up and let me look," Ethan snaps, finding his second wind. He reaches for Leon's arms again and finds relief in how the older man wordlessly obliges; giving Ethan the opportunity to twist his arms and inspect the patterns that dance across them. It's not a situation Ethan could've expected, or even predicted, but Leon's right about one thing—this is definitely scratching that terrible itch he feels, somewhere deep down. No more needing to sneak creepy, uncomfortable glances to figure out what they are.

However, he'll always wonder where the tattoos lead. And how many more of them Leon has, hidden underneath all those layers of fabric.

"I see." Ethan nods, smiling faintly as he releases his grip again. "They're cool, I wasn't expecting you to have them. Then again, I've never seen you wear anything other than long sleeves."

Leon quirks a brow. "You pay attention?"

Ethan's smile drops. "Oh. I mean, not in like– not in a weird way, that isn't what—"

There's the sound of a scoff, and then Leon's hands are on Ethan's wrists, gently pulling him down to his level. The blonde stumbles forwards and catches himself with a knee on Leon's chair, and the situation is so intense and utterly stifling that Ethan has to rear away with his eyes narrowed in firm on the office door.

"Ethan," Leon coos.

The blonde makes a noncommittal sound in his throat. 

"Ethan, c'mon, look at me."

There's no way this is happening right now. No feasible way. He must be dreaming.

Ethan registers with rapt attention as Leon let's go of his wrists in favor of bringing both hands up to cup his cheeks, and whether Ethan wants to submit or not isn't really an option anymore. Determinedly, the older man coaxes him to meet his gaze again.

"Shy?" Leon teases, and then quickly changes his tune when Ethan struggles in his grasp. "Okay, okay, I was just kidding! Damn."

"Leon—"

"Hold on for a second, sweetheart. I've got a few things on my mind." Ethan's face burns as he tries to process this, process the feel of Leon's touch as it sears itself into his memory. His heart pounds so fiercely in his chest he fears that Leon can feel it, but if he does, he doesn't comment.

Leon brushes his thumbs over Ethan's cheekbones. "You thought I'd be mad?"

"It's... unprofessional," Ethan breathes.

"What is?" Leon asks. His eyes are so blue. "Wanting to see my tattoos?"

Ethan nods. Leon snickers, pulling him that much closer, and the blonde is enveloped in the smell of bergamot and gunpowder and something spicy like sage, and… what was the question again? He can't think clearly when he can feel Leon's words flit across his lips.

"The only 'unprofessional' thing I see is the subordinate about to climb into his boss's lap," Leon murmurs with a wry smile. Ethan lets out a small gasp, jolting, and Leon makes sure he doesn't slip away. "Woah, hey! I never said I didn't like it."

"L– Leon, I don't understand what's…" Ethan stutters, shivering, feeling the traces of electricity that follow Leon's fingertips. He doesn't know whether to lean into him or settle his entire weight on top of Leon, so to play it safe, he refrains from doing either.

The agent takes a moment, eyes sweeping over Ethan's features, before letting out a soft exhale. "Well, now you've seen them. I hope that helped you find some kind of clarity..."

Not even a little bit, Ethan thinks miserably.

"... But it'll probably kill you to know that there's more than just this, and I can assure you, they are much more interesting." Leon chuckles as he tugs the blonde in one last time, and kisses him, right on the corner of his mouth.

"Still distracted?" He whispers.

Ethan can't even think of a proper reply. His brain has turned to mush.

"You…"

"Mm?"

Ethan sucks in a deep breath. "You're a fucking asshole."

Leon throws his head back and laughs, and when he recovers Ethan is already swooping in for another kiss. To hell with professionalism.

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It’s the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I’m so excited to finally share it with you.

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Also posted at AO3

—-

Chapter 3: Dancing On Glass

I've been through hell // And I'm never goin' back // To dancing on glass // Going way too fast...

Need one more rush // Then I know, I know I'll stop // One extra push // Last trip to the top...

Soundtrack: “Dancing On Glass,” Mötley Crüe, 1987 [click here to listen]

Three P.M.

Group.

Claire’s hands wrapped around the hard sides of the plastic chair, holding herself upright, watching about two dozen fellow patients? inmates? addicts? shuffle into the room.

Two people stood at the door – greeting others as they entered, handing out small packets of tissues and bottles of Coke.

Today’s facilitator – a middle-aged, bearded man – stood to one side, chatting with a few people.

“Hey!”

Claire startled – and turned to her right to see Jamie slide into the chair beside her.

“How’s it going today? Day two, right?”

She nodded. “Met with my therapist this morning.”

“That’s great! Who’ve you got?”

“Gillian.”

Jamie cracked open a bottle. “Oh, she’s great. Been here a long time. She’s married to the director – did you know that?”

Claire’s eyebrows raised. “No, but that’s really interesting.”

Jamie gulped about half the bottle in one shot. “Yeah. We owe everything to them.”

“Yeah, well. I got assigned to dinner set-up duty.”

He beamed. “Great! I’ve been on that rotation for the last few weeks. I’ll show you all the ropes.”

“Few weeks? How long have you been here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He set down his Coke. “I don’t. And I’ve been here eight weeks. The best eight weeks of my fucked-up life.”

“Don’t say that,” she chided. “Surely everything can’t be so terrible.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“It can be, if you were the reason why a sold-out European tour couldn’t happen, and it cost your backers and buddies tens of millions of dollars, and it pissed off countless thousands of fans.”

Now the greeters took their seats within the circle.

“Couldn’t, or didn’t?” Claire hoped her words were gentle, but when her head split with pain like this she could never tell. “And what do you mean by ‘tour’?”

His eyes narrowed. “Couldn’t. My manager said I’d come back from Europe in a body bag. He’s a bloodsucker but he had enough sense to not kill the golden goose.” He finished his Coke in one long gulp – flexing the tattoos swirling on his forearm and elbow. “And I’m a professional musician – in case you couldn’t guess from the way I look.”

“I see.”

He grinned. “How about that – someone who doesn’t recognize me.”

She folded her hands in her lap, closing her eyes against the pain, so desperately wanting to disappear. “I guess between medical school, and being a surgeon, and my ex-husband…and the pills…there are a lot of things I haven’t paid attention to.”

“Hey.” Softly he reached out to touch her knee – and she looked up at him.

“I’m not making fun of you, Claire. It’s just…I don’t know. Refreshing.”

She smiled tightly.

The facilitator clapped his hands. “Everyone – are we ready?”

People around the circle nodded, and the man sat down in the last empty chair.

“Great. Well, hi everyone. For those of you who don’t know me – I’m Murtagh. Been clean for just about eleven years now. Before that I spent a small fortune that I didn’t have – ”

“ – on enough blow to kill an elephant,” Jamie and several others chorused.

Murtagh smiled. “Wiseasses. Now – today’s topic is: clarity.”

“Can you be more specific?” A heavyset, bearded man across the circle piped up.

“You mean – provide more clarity?” Geneva snickered from somewhere near Jamie.

“Easy,” Murtagh interjected. “And yes, Rupert, of course. What I mean is: something I hear a lot from people here is that being away from substances gives them clarity for the first time in years. Clarity of thoughts – meaning, you’re logical and rational. Clarity of judgment – meaning, you feel like you are empowered to make good decisions. And overall, clarity to step away from all the bullshit that the substances made you do, or made it easier for you to do, and say – damn, what the hell was I doing?”

Across the circle, Rupert nodded. “OK. Oh – hi everyone, I’m Rupert, and I’m an alcoholic. Yeah – I can definitely relate. I wanted to not have clarity, so that I didn’t have to think about how much I was screwing up my job, and my marriage.”

“Good,” Murtagh praised. “And now that you can’t avoid it – how do you feel?”

Rupert stroked his thick beard. “Like shit. I love Scarlet so much, and I fucked it all up. I understand that now.”

“I feel the same way,” Jamie added. “Hi, I'm Jamie, and I'm an alcoholic, too. I drank because I’ve always felt so responsible for everything going on in my band – because I’m the guy that brought us together, and I’m the guy who writes the songs, and I’m the guy who’s across the table from the record company executives, advocating on our behalf.” He bounced a long, thin, jean-clad leg rapidly up and down. “I felt like I was being used, and that I was the only one who cared. I felt that really clearly. So I drank to…to avoid that clarity.”

Claire carefully watched the others around the circle. What Jamie was sharing could make any one of them a quick buck – all it would take was one phone call to a tabloid. But everyone was listening raptly – clearly thinking about parallels in their own lives – and it began to dawn on her that Jamie had one thing she didn’t have much of for herself: respect.

“And then when I drank, I’d just get really mean,” he continued. “I’d say things to rile up my drummer. I had a fling with my manager’s girlfriend, just to fuck with him. And yeah, I’d destroy hotel rooms.”

“Your reaction was to want to hurt people,” Murtagh said gently. “You had had clarity – clarity that you were shouldering too much, for too many people – and you reacted by wanting to push them away.”

“Yeah.” Claire spoke without thinking. “Um – hi everyone, I’m Claire, and I’m addicted to pills. Halcions, mostly.”

“Oh, those are the best,” a woman to Claire’s left remarked.

“Hey – no positive talk,” Murtagh interjected. “You know better than that, Letitia.”

Letitia huffed.

Murtagh turned back to face Claire. “Tell us more, Claire, if you’re comfortable?”

Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “I was – am – a trauma surgeon for an emergency room. I love it – I love the adrenaline of it, and of course being able to help people on the worst day of their lives. I love being able to heal people. But…but it’s pretty heavy stuff. People die, no matter how hard you try to save them. People wake up and they’re not happy that they don’t have a leg anymore – and I say, would you rather be dead?”

“And you wanted to get away from that?” Jamie asked gently.

She closed her eyes. “I had to have clarity to do my job properly – it’s hard to describe, but it’s like having a laser focus on what’s in front of you. Getting in the zone. Shutting out everything else. And then when it’s all done – I would crash. The whole world would come rushing back, and I’d be covered in someone else’s blood and barely able to sit down before I had to work on the next person. That was so, so hard to deal with.”

“I understand.” Claire opened her eyes – it was an older man speaking right next to Jamie. “Hi everyone – I’m Ned, I’m a lawyer and crack addict, and there are a lot of jokes I’m sure you could make based on that.”

Claire managed a small smile.

“I’m a defense attorney – I’m that guy you see on TV arguing in a courtroom and presenting to a jury. I totally get what Claire said, because I needed to have that kind of really focused clarity, too. It was kind of like acting – I had to remember my argument, and I had to present it to the jury, and I had to pick up on cues from them to see how well I was doing. And then afterward I’d just crash. But I still had to have energy to prep for the next day, and that’s where Miss Crack came in.”

“So what I’m hearing is that clarity is something you already had – and then you turn to substances to get away from it.” Murtagh folded his arms. “Because it’s hard to flip that ‘off’ switch. And then eventually, the substances change from being something to take a vacation from that clarity, to completely blocking out that clarity altogether.”

“Exactly.” It was easier for Claire to focus on Murtagh than the sea of faces surrounding her. “And it’s a deliberate choice. I’m sure, Ned and Rupert and Jamie, that you deliberately sought out something to prevent that clarity. I know I did – I wrote the prescriptions for the pills that I consumed.”

Rupert nodded. “The bottle didn’t pick itself up and pour the liquor down my throat. And you’re right, Claire – at first, at least, it was a conscious decision. Until it became something I had to depend on.”

“I think that there are ways for this to happen more positively.” A woman seated beside Rupert quietly spoke. “Oh – hi, everyone, I’m Marsali, and I’m an alcoholic. What I mean is, there are ways to flip that ‘off’ switch that aren’t so…destructive. You can go for a run. Listen to music. Cook a meal. Watch a movie. Make love to your significant other.”

Murtagh nodded. “Marsali brings up a good point here. I’ll repeat something that I’ve already told many of you before, because it bears repeating. Substance addiction is addiction, first and foremost. All of us are here because our brains are hard-wired for addiction. We can’t change that. But we can change what it is that we’re addicted to.”

“Like what?” Letitia had calmed down a bit, but clearly she was skeptical.

“Whatever works for you,” Murtagh shrugged. “Jiu Jitsu. Flower Arranging. Reading. Playing the drums. Writing. Riding motorcycles. Not all addictions are bad – we just need to find the addictions that help us, and don’t hurt us or the people around us.”

Everyone’s heads nodded in agreement, quietly reflecting.

“So – that’s my homework assignment for all of you.” Murtagh pulled a small spiral notebook from his pocket, flipped to a fresh page, and began scribbling in it. “To think about the thing that you can become positively addicted to. Something you already enjoy, or something you’ve never done before. But I hope that even just thinking about it will give you focus. Improve your clarity.”

“Got it,” Ned said quietly.

Murtagh flipped back to an earlier page in his notebook. “Now – I have here my notes from the last time I facilitated Group. OK if I start going around and asking people for follow-up thoughts to those? Rupert?”

Rupert nodded, and began to speak.

“Facilitators take turns hosting Group every fourth day.” Claire started a bit, but held steady as Jamie leaned in close, spoke quietly into her ear. “We talk about things, and we’re assigned homework, and then the next time the facilitator is back we talk about it.”

“Thanks,” Claire murmured.

Jamie didn’t pull away. “If you ever just want to talk…”

She swallowed. “Thanks. I do. I just – it’s a lot to process.”

“It is. But you’ll get there. Talk more at our dinner prep.”

With that he pulled back, and a low buzz settled somewhere between Claire’s ears as the people around her chimed in to the conversation.

chain reaction 02 | jjk

genre: fluff and angst 

rating: PG 

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember. 

banner by me!

read part 1 here! 

 If you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask! 

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

When you had imagined what Jeon Jungkook’s apartment would look like, you had definitely thought it would look something like an evil lair (except messy, because Jungkook definitely struck you as the messy type). 

However, upon stepping into his surprisingly well-finished apartment, you found the exact opposite case. Before this, you had planned to make a ton of jokes based on whatever you would find in Jungkook’s apartment. And the truth was, you still could. 

Jeon Jungkook was an absolute neat freak. You watched the way he subtly shuddered as a fleck of dirt from your shoes travelled off of his doormat and you took note of how his kitchen counter was so clean you could probably eat directly off of it (which was especially rare from someone in college). If he had a roommate, there was no trace of him right now, as the apartment pretty much looked like a showhome.

“I didn’t know you were such a clean freak, Jeon,” you said with a smirk.

For the first time, you saw Jeon Jungkook look the slightest bit timid. 

“I like to keep things tidy, I guess,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. 

He gestured for you to enter his quaint but somehow spacious living room as he sped to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water (he may not like you, but he’d be damned by his mother if she found out he let a guest into his place without giving them a beverage).

You had a very clear game plan when it came to entering Jeon Jungkook’s apartment: Enter. Talk about the project (and nothing else). Grab the chemistry notes from the class you missed on Monday. Leave. 

It definitely seemed like an easy peasy 4 step plan  -  except that all seemed to flow out the window once you saw the photo Jungkook kept on his coffee table. From what you could decipher, it looked like a high school aged Jungkook in a music studio, right in front of the mic, with some of his friends around him. You had never seen Jungkook smile as big as he was in that picture, and it even managed to pull at your heartstrings.

Before you could open your mouth to ask about it, Jungkook had already come over to you and slammed the picture to be face down on the table, leaving smiley high school Jungkook out of sight. 

“An invitation into my apartment isn’t an invitation into my private life, Y/N. Don’t get it twisted.” he said coldly, dropping the glass of water hashly onto a coaster by the picture frame. 

To be fair, you kind of deserved that (and looking into Jungkook’s personal life definitely wasn’t part of your 4 step plan to seeing him today), but he didn’t have to be that mean.  As a peace offering you moved as far away from the photo frame as you could.

“Let’s just get this over with, Jeon. I have a pilates class in an hour on the other side of campus.”

Now Jungkook couldn't pass up that opportunity to make a joke. 

“Pilates, mmm.”  He let out an overexaggerated moan to make his point. 

“ Think you can slip my number to the hot girls there Y/N,” said Jungkook with a smirk. 

“In your dreams Jeon. You’re lucky if any girls will still want your number if you fail organic chemistry, which is what you’re going to do if we don’t work on this project.”

“I think you’re forgetting Y/N.” he said as he bent down, bringing his lips to your ear - “if I go down I’m taking you with me sunshine”. 

Ignoring how his close proximity to you was making your heart race (it was probably due to anger, right??), you jumped away from him and pulled out your macbook.

“Our group contract is due tomorrow so let’s just finish that up and then I’ll be out of your hair okay?” you said with an air of desperation and potentially sexual frustration.

For the most part, you and Jungkook worked in silence besides the occasional sound of you typing or clearing your throat. Looking at the live google doc in front of you and the progress you both were making, you were starting to think that working with Jungkook might not be the worst thing in the world. 

Jeon Jungkook and Y/N L/N : CHEM 251 LAB PRESENTATION CONTRACT

Topic - Green Chemistry 

1. Answer all communication from your partner (emails, messages) within 24 hours

2. Complete all portions of assignments at least 1 day before it is due. 

3. Any changes to your availability should be communicated to your partner. 

4. Y/N will handle the background literature and introduction of the presentation. 

5. Jungkook will look for future applications of Green Chemistry and direct applications of course material in the field of Green Chemistry. 

6. Don’t fall in love with your partner. 

As soon as you saw Jungkook type the last point on the document, you glared at him beside you on the couch. 

“Seriously Jeon? I forgot you have the mindset of a 13 year old boy,” you muttered as he looked at you cockily. 

You took a deep breath as your internal monologue started to run: 

Okay, Y/N. you’re not here to let Jeon Jungkook mess with you. 3 strikes and you’re out of here - there’s no reason to need to keep up with his bullshit (especially since at least the first part of your project was over).

Jungkook had then had to add more rules to your group contract. 

7. Y/N will give out Jungkook’s number to any hot girl at her pilates class. 

You groaned and hastily deleted off the document. 

That was strike 1 for Jungkook. 3 strikes and he’s out. 

Jungkook was still relentless in his attacks. 

“Seriously though Y/N, do you really not think I’m attractive at all? You really don’t want a piece of this?,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his body all too suggestively. 

“Cut it out Jeon, I’m not dealing with your shit today,” you hissed, your eyes shooting metaphorical lasers into Jungkook. 

Strike 2: He’s getting close. 

“C’mon Y/N, what’s the chance that you’ll ever be able to bag someone as hot as me. I mean, look at me and look at you!”

Strike 3: you were DONE  with Jeon Jungkook today.

Not even stopping to put on your shoes fully, you took one last glance back at him before you walked out the door. 

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The glass of water he got you sat untouched on his coffee table, drops of water spilling onto the photo frame beside it due to his apartment shaking from you slamming his door.

Mirroring the new droplets on his coffee table, you found tears starting to drop across your face as well. 

--♡--

Even though you loved your chemistry lecture, you’re not sure why chemistry labs had such a bad vibe to you. The most obvious explanation for this would be having Jeon Jungkook as a lab partner (especially after your last meeting, the situation speaks for itself). But what could be is probably at least part of the reason is because of what happened in your first year 8AM chem lab. After getting through a grueling 3 hour titration (that you messed up and got no results for in the end), you walked back to your dorm to find your (now ex) boyfriend Jimin in bed with your roommate, Soomi. 

Needless to stay you left that day with one less friend, no boyfriend (and you had also gotten 16/30 on that lab… yikes), so chemistry labs did leave a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth. 

It had been months since that incident, but even after getting a new lease and cutting any ties you remotely had to Jimin, you still carried the insecurity that Jimin instilled in you by cheating on you with someone who you thought of as a sister. 

You had yet to run into Jimin against post-breakup, and had managed to successfully avoid him, until now.

“Y/N?” 

You knew that voice all too well. Turning around, you were met with the sight of your ex, Jimin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as you looked him over you noticed your old roommate, Soomi, hanging off of his arm. You had no clue that they were still together (you had lost all contact with anyone remotely related to Jimin), and somehow seeing them together hurt you even more. 

Jimin looked even prettier than you had last remembered him; his prince-like hair shone in the afternoon sun, his charming smile seemed even brighter. Knowing Jimin was still with Soomi made you feel that he didn’t even feel a pang of regret for cheating on you, like he didn’t need to take some time by himself to reflect (like you definitely did) or stop to grieve your relationship. From your point of view, it seemed like you never even mattered to Jimin. 

You suddenly felt self conscious of everything under the judgmental gazes of Jimin and Soomi. Those baby hairs that you didn’t bother to pin down with a bobby pin this morning now felt like they were sticking straight out of your head and the pimple that was poking through your concealer on your forehead suddenly felt like a volcano. In your mind, compared to Soomi, you looked like a hot mess.

Your brain was on autopilot for all the small-talk you made with the two of them, and you didn’t snap out of your trance until you heard these words from Jimin. 

“I only wish the best for you Y/N”

You internally scoffed at this statement. Who the fuck was Park Jimin to say that he “wishes the best for you”. You took months to get over him and the hurtful words he said to you. Every mean comment and snarky comparisons he made to you felt like it was tattooed onto your skin and stuck with you forever. But now he was standing in front of you like nothing was wrong?

In a different world, you probably would’ve slapped Jimin across the face. But instead you rose above like your mom taught you to. 

“You as well Jimin.” you said courtly with a nod, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes from escaping your tear ducts. 

After receiving a small nod from Jimin as a response, you turned around as if you had somewhere to be (in reality, you didn’t have class for another 2 hours).

Getting as far away from Jimin was all you could think about at the moment, and you moved as far as your legs could take you in whatever direction you thought would take you out of your college’s quad, even as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision.

You didn’t know how to feel. You had imagined what seeing Jimin for the first time after the break up would look like; maybe he would grovel at his knees and beg to have you back (it’s not that you wanted to date him again or that you had feelings for him, but it would feel nice to feel wanted), maybe you would just throw a drink in his face and walk away like a bad bitch, maybe you could’ve flashed a new boyfriend in front of his face. 

All of a sudden your phone started to ring.  Your first fear (and somewhat hope) was that it would be Jimin calling you, but little did you know that it was something so much worse.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

“as if this day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought to yourself as you pressed decline. You had yet to talk to Jungkook since that day at his apartment (you didn’t even call to congratulate him on his 

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

You groaned and hit the decline but at the speed of lightning again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

Seriously, could this guy not take a hint? You were tempted to turn your phone off all together, but settled for hitting the decline button again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You realized that for whatever reason, Jungkook was not giving up, so you either had to answer him or listen to your ringtone of “Love Killa” by Monday X play every 10 seconds. Praying that your voice wouldn’t betray you, you took a deep (albeit shaky) breath and tried your best to wipe your tears before clicking “answer”.

“Look Jeon, I’m - uh - sorry but I really can’t do this right now okay? I’ll call you later.” you choked out, your voice obviously wavering as you tried to be as professional as possible. 

Before you could press the “end call button” you heard Jungkook’s concerned voice through the speakers.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t sound too good. Are you okay?”

Ah yes, “are you okay” - probably the most loaded question a person could ever ask. 

You probably could’ve kept it together if he had asked any other question, but his “are you ok” truly pulled at your heartstrings.

You felt your chest tightening but you tried your best to help the feeling subside. You had yet to show weakness about how Jimin had affected you to anyone, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start with Jeon Jungkook. Clutching at your chest and taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm your racing heart, you continued on. 

“Is that genuine concern I’m hearing from you Jeon? Be careful, you’re losing your bad boy persona,” you said as you tried to make a joke to distract him. 

“Y/N, no. I’m serious. are. you. okay.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobs broke free from your chest and you heaved into the phone, your whimpers and whines striking Jungkook on the other side of the phone. 

“I, I can’t- I just-“

The words barely broke through your sobs. Your chest was tightening and you could barely hear Jungkook through the ringing in your ears. 

“Y/N where are you, I’m coming’” said Jungkook. You could hear the jingling of his car keys and the rustling of him putting on shoes. 

As if mother nature felt your pain, the rain started pouring down on you at the same time.

You barely got out any more words to Jungkook,  but he didn’t hang up on you. He just kept whispering comforting phrases, trying to calm you down from afar as you could hear his car engine roaring in the background (in another world, you definitely would’ve yelled at him for using his phone while driving). You barely even registered that Jungkook was there at all. Every memory of you and Jimin seemed to reopen like a fresh wound, and you couldn’t feel anything except the pain. All you could do was sit on a random curb by the edge of campus, your wails probably reaching the sorority houses nearby. 

You felt broken. The sound of the thunder overhead mixed with your cries as the rain pelted you, soaking your thin sweatshirt. You don’t know how much time passed there. In your head, it felt like time was frozen, while for Jungkook it felt like he was wasting hours zooming through campus (he truly was zooming - a month later he found out that he had accumulated 3 speeding tickets trying to find you, but he would never tell you that).

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, voice laced with pity and concern as he pulled over his car on the curb in front of you. 

You and Jungkook hadn’t even said a word to each other since the feud at his apartment, and you had absolutely zero clue how he even managed to figure out where you were through your jumbled phone call. But all you knew is that right now you needed him. You needed someone to give you a bit of comfort, and Jungkook was somehow here to do that for you. Despite everything between you twom you couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that ran through your body as you looked up and saw Jungkook in front of you.

Coming to your side, Jungkook crouched beside you. 

“Jungkook”, you wept as he pulled you into his chest. It was probably one of the first times you had actually addressed him by his first name, which came as a surprise to him. 

Holding you closer, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel protective over you. He couldn’t help but hurt with you as he saw your fragile figure shaking in his arms. 

“You’re gonna be okay now Y/N, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”  

And in that moment, on a dirty curbside off campus, you weren’t Jeon boy and little miss sunshine,  mortal enemies and chemistry lab partners. Instead, you were just Jeon Jungkook and Y/N., and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

--♡--

To your surprise (and the surprise of anyone else who knows you), you and Jungkook had not been stepping on each other’s toes as much. What had started out as extreme, extreme dislike had turned into a mild dislike (maybe even a very slight enjoyment of his presence, although you weren't about to admit that anytime soon). And of course, you both refuse to acknowledge the “Jimin incident” that had occurred a week ago and you both refuse to believe that it may have had something to do with you and Jungkook not hating each other. Your emails stopped being signed off with “do your part Jeon, or else” and instead now usually started with “Hey Jeon!” and “Thanks, Y/N”

That brought you here, in your apartment on a Friday night, eating old pizza in an old sweatshirt, no bra, and some comfy shorts that had definitely been through the wash one too many times. Researching for your chemistry project, you chuckled at how much of a londer you would look to an outsider. Sending off the articles you found on Green Chemistry to Jungkook, you closed out the email with some casual pleasantries and then turned to continue rewatching episodes of your favourite kdrama. You definitely weren’t expecting a response from Jungkook until Monday. You were sure that someone like him was at a frat party (was he even in a frat? You had no idea). Either way, Jungkook probably was lounging around in some party house with like 6 girls on his arms, while you were doing quite the opposite. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook was actually doing quite a similar thing to you. Instead of watching kdramas, he was watching Iron Man (for what was probably the 50th time), and was huddled under a makeship blanket fort like a child and scrolling through reddit. Don’t be mistaken though, Jeon Jungkook was definitely a partier, but he also knew when he needed to give his head (and liver) a break.

He saw his phone chime with a gmail notification. He took a brief scroll through the articles you had sent over to him (those were definitely work for another day since there was no way he could digest academic jargon without at least 3 cups of coffee in him), but he was pleasantly surprised with what you had come up with. 

At the same time, the Facebook tab he had open on his Macbook also lit up. 

It’s Y/N L/N’s birthday today! Leave a message on her wall to celebrate!

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. 

It was your birthday and you were sending him chemistry research papers?? Jungkook chuckled because he could already think of 1000 bad jokes to make fun of you, but he also felt some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  

Jungkook’s mother had always taught him that it was important to celebrate birthdays, and that is was bad luck that it was  He wasn’t sure if it was just a farce that his mother had come up with to make sure that he still attended those family-wide facetime birthday celebrations once he went to college, but either way, he still believed it to some extent. 

He had no clue why he was doing this, or how he even got here, but somehow Jungkook found himself in sweatpants and a hoodie in front of your apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, cake in tow in one hand, his other hand out ready to knock on your door. 

On the other side of the door, you were equally astonished. It almost felt like you were seeing a hallucination, as if your email to Jungkook had somehow summoned him to your door. You couldn’t help but rub your eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he was actually there. 

“Jungkook?”

Bashful Jungkook seemed to make an appearance again as he tapped his feet in anxiety. And before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling from his mouth”

“Happy birthday?” he said as a question , posing it as if he didn’t know whether facebook was just playing a prank on him (which he honestly didn’t know). “Can I come in?”

You didn’t even really know how to process this situation, but all you could mutter was a “uh, thank you?” in a similar inquirable tone and gesture for him to step into your apartment. If Jeon Jungkook showed up at your door at 10pm on a Friday night, he probably deserved to be heard out.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.”  You were sure that Jungkook’s neat freak brain was probably frying itself into overdrive based on the empty now-empty pizza box sitting on your coffee table and stray utensils and crumbs on your kitchen counter. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to see this.

Mirroring Jungkook’s hospitality last time you were at his place, you brought him a glass of water and hoped that this evening would go a LOT better than the last time you and Jungkook were alone together in an apartment. 

Jungkook’s cake was still held in his hands. It was a little cake from the 24/7 cafe on campus; he could only find one that said “happy” with little sunflowers and smiles, so hopefully the “birthday” part of it was implied. 

“I, um, I brought cake - for you. I mean your birthday.”

You sat down across from him. 

“Oh you didn’t have to Jungkook, uh that’s really nice but you didn’t have to do that,” you said as you leaned further away from the cake, as if it was an item that scared you. “I’m not big on birthdays anyways, just usually me chilling in my apartment!” 

However, Jungkook was not planning on taking no as an answer. He tried his best to plead with you, but was still getting nowhere. 

“you… you have to do it for my mom!” he said as he thrust the cake even closer to your face. 

You tilted your head in confusion at his statement. 

“I mean uh-, my mom says that it’s bad luck if you don’t blow out candles on cake on your birthday and that if you don’t do it then you won’t live to your next birthday. And um- i know we’re not friends Y/N but I’d rather see you alive next year”.

 Jungkook tried to look as nonchalant and cool as possible, and when he realized his statement was a little too thoughtful he followed it up with a “i mean you could do whatever you want i don’t care it doesn’t matter to me”. 

You were beginning to like this side of Jungkook, the one that was more thoughtful than he was a selfish, inconsiderate dude.

Taking the cake softly from his hands, you muttered a soft “thank you”. At this point Jungkook didn’t know whether you took it from his hands to throw it on the ground or actually use it for its intended purpose. As you leaned over to grab the lighter by your candles on your coffee table, Jungkook let out a breath of relief. 

Throwing open the cake box, you lit the candle in the cake and stared patiently in front of it. 

“Well Jungkook, I believe if I am going to be blowing out candles there should be singing too, no?” You joked with a silly smile on your face. 

Knowing he had no way out of this (and to be honest, he secretly wanted to anyways), he began to sing. 

You had never heard a more beautiful rendition of happy birthday in your life. Jungkook turned the most mundane song, one that you didn’t have many happy memories with, into a tune that made your heart start to swell with joy. You wished the song was longer, because as he stopped to sing you wanted nothing more than for him to keep going. 

“Make a wish, Y/N” , he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to wish for. There were a lot of things that needed to be fixed in the world, and lots of things that you needed too (like a new toothbrush, or the experience of true love). It seemed fitting that since you were only blowing out these candles because of Jungkook, you should at least dedicate the wish to him. So all you wished for was for you and Jungkook to get along just like you were in this moment. 

You looked up at Jungkook from the cake, and from there all you could say was a sincere “thank you”.

The moment was all too sincere, and you and Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift to one that was all too intimate and friendly for your relationship. As moving away from a hot flame, you both picked up your phones and mumbled excuses to move away from the situation. 

Jungkook was the first to break the ice again. 

“I don’t know how good this cake is going to be, the expiry date was at least a week and a half ago”

“Well Jeon Jungkook, if you brought an expired cake into my apartment, it feels like a right of passage that you have to try this cake with me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from picking up a piece of cake on a fork and shoving it into his mouth. Immediately, his face scrounged up in disgust, and you could pretty much see him gag. 

“That cream is… very creamy to stay the least,” he said as he thickly swallowed it down, grimacing the whole time. 

His expression made you chuckle. There was something about the way his naturally fluffy hair seemed to move as he swayed like a piece of seaweed on your couch (a mannerism that you had picked up on quite quickly), that made you feel warm inside.

“Considering me sacrificing myself to this cake as a birthday present to you, Y/N” 

The laugh that bubbled out of your chest almost made that gross cake worth it to Jungkook. And some words of sincerity slipped out before you could hold them in. 

“Best birthday present ever, Jungkook, thank you.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Taglist: @apollukee , @mrcleanheichou , @monvieesdaebak 

If you want to be tagged, please send me an ask! 

 If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

Based on these two posts. Title comes from the Hadestown song Doubt Comes In.

Part of my TLH Tattoo Shop AU

Warning ⚠️ Fluff and Angst ahead!

Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions of toxic relationships

Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions of Ch*rles Fairchild (derogatory)

Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions (one mention) of El*as Carstairs (derogatory)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doubt Comes In

Thomas is hiding something, Alastair is sure of it. He’d been jumpy for the past two weeks, barely letting Alastair touch him.

Alastair knew that he didn’t need to know every detail about Thomas’s life but he couldn’t stop the little voice in the back of his head telling him that maybe Thomas had gotten tired of him and was slowly starting to push him away. He didn’t want to believe any of that, of course, but he couldn’t stop the inklings of doubt slipping through the cracks.

He hated that insecure voice inside of him, the one that seemed permanent when he was with Charles. It had dwindled away as his relationship with Thomas continued, no more thoughts of doubt, of doubting Thomas.

This needed to end.

Alastair hated that he was even doubting Thomas, but the behavior Thomas had been showcasing lately, made him suspicious and insecure. He wished it would stop.

He needed to talk to Thomas.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked at dinner that night, not looking at Thomas, choosing instead to focus more on where he was picking at the skin around his nails. He’d been doing that a lot lately, another thing he’d done with Charles.

His skin was always scratched raw and bloody back then.

Thomas promptly choked on his food, hazel eyes widened in concern. “W-what do you mean? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been acting so different lately?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was acting different? But how would me acting different mean that you did something wrong?” Thomas looked adorably confused and equal parts concerned.

Alastair bit his lip to stop it from quivering. “You haven’t kissed me in nearly a week and you’ve barely let me touch you in two! I must’ve done something wrong for that to change-” he was rambling by the time Thomas had pressed his lips firmly to his.

Alastair felt himself melt. It had been so long since Thomas had kissed him like that.

The kiss was nice, nicer than he remembered (even though it hadn’t been that long since their last kiss). But he still needed to know what was wrong with Thomas.

He started to talk when Thomas’s lips made their way down his jaw. “Wait, wait, wait. As nice as that was, it doesn’t explain why you’ve been acting weird the past few weeks.”

“Well, um, that.” Thomas wouldn’t meet his eyes, he was flushed all the way from his neck to his ears. It was rather adorable if you asked Alastair.

“Yes?” Alastair asked with a raised eyebrow.

Thomas moves back and stands up, his hands reaching down to pull the left side of his shirt up passed his hip, the other moving to pull his jeans down slightly to reveal a bright white bandage there.

Alastair stared at the bandage on confusion for a second before the concern kicked in. “Tom, why do you have that? Please tell me you didn’t get seriously hurt and decided not to tell me!”

“No, no, no! It’s not that! I mean it did hurt but only a pinch!”

Now Alastair was even more confused but Thomas (gratefully) had started to remove the bandage and he moved a bit closer so Alastair could see. Alastair couldn’t help but gasp when he caught sight of the black letters on Thomas’s hip.

It was a tattoo. More specific two tattoos.

Esfandiyār

اسفندیار

He had gotten his name-Esfandiyār-tattooed on him, in English and in Persian. Alastair wanted to cry.

“I had Cordelia help me with the Persian lettering, she made the stencil but Kamala was the one to do the actual tattoo itself. I swore her to secrecy to make sure she didn’t tell you before it was all healed.” Thomas was blushing and there was a small contented smile on his face.

“You really did this? For me?” Alastair whispered, barely trusting his voice.

Thomas looked at him worth soft eyes and walked closer to him, cradling his jaw in his hands. “I know how much you associate your name with your father, and it gives you bad memories. So I thought maybe this would help you associate your name with something good.”

“Damn you, Thomas.” he said right before kissing Thomas, hoping to convey all his feelings into this one kiss.

When they pulled back for air, Alastair could feel tears running down his cheeks, and he was helpless to stop them.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my Esfandiyār.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Am I really going to write a Hadestown AU? That’s a secret I’ll never tell, xoxo Gossip Girl

*laughs in Gossip Girl reboot*

Ardere - A Helion/Lady of Autumn Fic

y’all heathens made me have feelings so i wrote a thing. hurt/comfort, angst, all sorts. Tagging some folks who inspired this with their emotional dashboard shenanigans/that I feel would Appreciate the content. @exiledelain @confused-as-all-hell @asteria-of-mars @ratabrasileira @ladyvanserra @vanserrasvalkyrie @rarephloxes  @queen-hypaxia

Title: Ardere

Length: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, given Lady Autumn’s situation

Summary: Set during the High Lords meeting in ACOWAR. Canon compliant, I suppose, but do any of us care about that anymore?? Hestia, the Lady of the Autumn Court, seeks her oldest lover and comfort Helion for a stolen night of love and reconnection. Helion POV, emotional hurt/comfort, bit of angst.

Teaser:

‘" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

For a moment he thought she might refuse him, might insist upon caution. But the next she was in his arms, and as he held her close and breathed her in, he knew he hadn't been truly warm since last he'd been able to embrace her.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

AO3: Link

"I cannot spare long." 

The book he'd been flipping idly through dropped at once from his fingers at the sound of that voice.

Before he'd finished turning to her, her scent hit him. So warm, so inviting, it nearly knocked him back into his chair.

Then he beheld her.

The first time he'd clapped eyes on her, all those centuries ago, she'd left him breathless and stunned. 

Like an Autumn storm that had ravaged every part of his being and left him, naked and awed, before its power and majesty. She had blown into his life with an unexpected abruptness as yet unmatched.

He'd been an arrogant prick at that age. Cauldron, he was still an arrogant prick. But he'd been used to everyone's eyes, male or female, following him as he moved through a room. 

Those gazes found him and they didn't leave. He was High fae. He was a High Lord's heir. He'd been made to rule Day and to look damned good while doing it.

 He'd been accustomed to being wanted, to inspiring lust and envy by simply existing.

Never, before her, had he been on the other side. 

He'd never seen someone so beautiful. So consuming and captivating that he hadn't been sure of being able to win their lust and love with a simple smile and an effortless word.

She'd shaken something in him that day. She had entered his world and unmade him with a glance. Then reconstructed him, exactly as she'd found him, with one stark difference. At the core of the man she had rebuilt was a need for her. Not merely her beautiful body, but her heart, her soul. He'd known, in that moment, that she had him. And always would.

The years had taken much from her. And holy gods, did he know it. But they had not taken this, her ability to so thoroughly destroy him that he was reborn at once as her servant in but a single glance.

" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

For a moment he thought she might refuse him, might insist upon caution. But the next she was in his arms, and as he held her close and breathed her in, he knew he hadn't been truly warm since last he'd been able to embrace her.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

For all that he made a show, and tell, if he was fair, about what the Cauldron gave him with regards to his body, particularly his glorious thighs, that wasn't his true pride.

No, the thing he held most valuable was his mind which contained the knowledge of a thousand libraries and more.

He didn't earn his name by clearing through spells with his thighs. Fuck no. His wit, his cunning, his intellect, that was where his true power, his true strength as a High Lord came from.

That was why Hestia had always managed to claim him so thoroughly. All these centuries later and he still couldn't think around her. Couldn't form a single coherent thought while her scent filled his lungs. It travelled from there directly to his brain, and filled it with stolen afternoons and illicit nights spent in the only place they truly belonged.

Drawing away, in itself an agony, but one he was rewarded for, as it let him look into her face.

He cradled it between his hands, so careful. so delicate. She was not a fragile woman, he knew that well. She was of the forge, with fire in her veins, and iron in her bones.

The world saw the silence, the frailty of her body, and the resignation of her fate and mistook that for softness, and docility. He knew better.

This woman put the heroes of the War to shame. Her strength, her courage, her will - if they had any idea they'd have written epic poems about her resilience and ballads to her spirit. 

Drakon wouldn't have lasted an hour in her place. Had she been in his, the damned War would have ended so fast they wouldn't have been able to call it one.

Yet he held her with all the gentleness that was in him. Not because he feared she might break without it; but because he knew she would find none elsewhere.

His fingers tenderly brushed her hair from her eyes. Like her, their, son's it was a red as sure as blood. But hers spiralled from her in a cacophony of raucous curls. They were contained, now, with a thick leather band around her head. He would always remember them wild, and free, as she was meant to be.

As he moved them aside, he saw the shadow of a bruise around one of her beautiful russet eyes. Hidden well, but...

His body went taut, jaw clenching instinctively. She felt the tension coiling in him, and laid her hands gently over his.

"Don’t," was all she said, voice soft, but unyielding, like the sun’s gentle rays as it rose each morning.

"Not a heartbeat has passed for me since that day," he rumbled, voice deeper and darker than his usual light, playful timbre." That I have not thought about the choice that was made, and begged the Mother to let me change it." 

She faced him steadily and said, " You know I made the choice that was available to mem" she moved closer, her body melting against his, like the hot metal of a blade folded around itself to create something more, "Not the one I wanted."

"I know, my hearthlight,” he whispered softly, sensing her smile at the old pet name he used for her, “And I would never blame you for that. But as for myself-"

A coward. This woman. This holy, burning creature. This caged forest fire... She loved a coward.

Hestia placed a finger to his lips, silencing him, " What good does it do," she murmured the rich warmth of her voice caressing him like a thick blanket on a cold winter night, “To dwell upon the past? To linger, in misery, and shame in a single moment of your immortal life?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, but she knew him too well, and silenced him with but a single look.

"Will your regret force back the sun?” she demanded with that quiet spirit he loved so keenly, “Will your sadness take us back? Will your guilt rewrite the pages of the history books which have been gathering dust in your libraries for centuries?" 

She was such a small thing. She always had been. And seemed more so, held between his muscular arms. Yet she dwarfed him now.

Like the flicker of a candle flame catching and summoning a raging inferno to remind him she was but a fragment of a force of nature, bound in skin, but never truly caged.

"If I could have," he said at last, voice a little hoarse as though he'd inhaled thick smoke, “I would have done so a thousand times over. And paid any price to do so."

He had tried. He'd never confess it to another soul, not even to the Mother herself upon his deathbed, but he had tried. Tried to rip apart the fabric of all reality with nothing but his bare hands and love for her.

A part of him was still surprised that it had not been enough. Because it was. Reality had simply not accepted that particular facet of its existence.

"I know you would have, lucky fluke," all these years and still she called him that. 

A name she'd hung on him to tease the first day they had met. He'd baldly called their meeting the Mother's own ordained fate. She'd laughed, with a sound like falling leaves, and named it, and him, lucky fluke. 

Then, the words had been edged with mockery. Now they echoed with all of their history, with all of their fondness, and all of her love.

"But time goes on. That sun of yours still journeys East to West, and we still live with the decisions we made upon a summer's night a million fireflies' lifetimes ago."

" Hestia-" he began, but she quietened him once more.

"When I wish to look back, Helion, I shall find myself a mirror,” she said, with the strength that had held her together all these decades of pain and misery, turned upon him now to remind him that she would not yield.

“I will not live my life wading through times I have already endured,” she said, voice softer now, but no less intent, “I have no wish to allow him to cause me pain in the few and rare times that are my own. I shall make pleasant moments here, with you, and that is what I ask of you. To be with me. Here. Now. And to love me while we can."

"I am yours, Lady,” he breathed. 

With the same breath he’d first pledged that to her centuries ago. Before the world had taken the freedom she craved so much, and given him a power he’d never wanted. A tattoo of her heart had etched itself over his own, in a vibrant red, a marker of the bargain he’d made. Unintended, but not regretted. 

“From now until my sun fades from this world unto the next," he promised her once more, one hand over his heart.

"Until I find you there as well," she replied, as she had all those years ago, leaning up, while drawing him down, and touching her forehead to his.

He loved her. Oh, Cauldron, he loved her, and whatever the Mother had used to make her, he loved that too.

"Come," she said softly," Let us make the most of what time we have."

So they did.

"What do you want from me, Hestia?" he whispered, pressing the worlds into her thick hair, his face buried in the crown of her head.

She looked at him, and answered as she did each time with aching certainty, and absolute truth." Everything."

"Then take it." he whispered, a devoted priest at last within the presence of his deity, “All I have, and all I do not. Take it all."

So she did.

They had no need of words in that hallowed space when bodies and beings connected, skin to skin, and soul to soul.

The breath it would have cost to provide a vessel for their thoughts would have only felt like a barrier between them.

They had no wish for that.

He knew her thoughts. And she knew his. They did not need to share them with the air and fireflies. 

For themselves, they gave voice to those thoughts in the lost language of lovers. Spoken in the gasps of breath and sweating palms.Thundering hearts, and hungering lips. Gasping lungs, and grasping touch.

And every thought the same: I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Then came the quiet. The gentle tangle of limbs. Eyes closed, heartbeats aligned. Willing the dawn to wait for them.

They did not sleep. They would not waste time on dreams when they already had everything they could ever hope to find in that untamable oblivion already contained within their embrace.

"It has been some time," Helion said at last, loath to break the spell of the silent commune of their souls, but such was his nature,"I thought the most of you I would ever make love to again was the echo of our last time, the memory of you."

He shifted slightly, so that he could see her face, all peaceful lines and soft curls, her eyes still closed.

"Why now, Hestia? With him," his jaw tightened at the mere mention of that excuse for a male, "So close the risk-"

"Is minimal," she interceded smoothly. Still without opening an eye, she continued." I drugged his wine. He shall sleep until daybreak. At least."

Helion opened his mouth, then closed it, refusing to be drawn off course "You didn't answer my question."

"I thought the answer would be obvious to you, lucky fluke," she murmured.

"You know you reduce me to the wits of a mere mortal, hearthlight," he said, half burying the words in her thick hair.

" Hmm," she hummed, thoughtful, "Must I spell it out for you, then, brightheart?" 

"If you would be so good, my lady." 

She was quiet so long he thought she might have succumbed to sleep, despite their pact.

At last she said, quiet as an Autumn breeze, " Each morning, when I open my eyes, and watch the sun rise beyond my window, I prepare myself for pain." 

He flinched, but she seemed not to notice, continuing calmly.

"This has been my burden to bear through all my years of marriage And I have borne it well, without falter, or complaint.

"I have known pain in many forms, and I have carried every one. But upon the horizon, I saw a new pain. One I had not confronted for so long. And I knew, in my soul, that I was not equal to it. That, at last, I would meet a battle I could not win. And so I found a way to avoid fighting it altogether."

"What did you foresee, hearthlight?" he forced himself to say.

"This war," she murmured, her ever-steady voice cracking in a way that made him pull her closer still. "This war came. And it claimed you. It took you from me when you had not been mine in centuries. And I could not abide that."

"I am always yours," he whispered fiercely. 

"Peace, brightheart," she soothed, "I know that. But I had to feel it. I had to erase the idea that last time was the last. I had to have you, and hold you, and love you once more before the end. Or else I knew I could not face this war. Not alone."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and held it, eyes closed, heart pounding, fighting every urge not to speak the words batting past the lump in his throat. But he had never been as strong as her.

"I cannot let you go this time, Hestia," he groaned, " I cannot sit idly, and smile, and tease while I've willingly let you go again."

"If I can find the strength to do what must be done," she said, with iron in her words, "Then you must find the strength to let me."

"I can't," he said, voice breaking. She found his hand and squeezed it, "I am a High Lord in my own right now, Hestia." he breathed to her." I could-"

"No, you could not." she said, firm, unyielding, a rock in an icy stream, with waters all around, that had not moved in centuries, and would not now.

"There is a war coming, Helion. Win or lose in a fight for me, it would shatter this fragile alliance, and any hope for Pythian. So you will do no such thing." she went on, before he could protest, "For we must win this war. For our courts. For our people. For our freedom. And for our son."

For the first time her voice broke. Before they fell, his fingers had already lifted to wipe her tears. the only ones she would shed. Not for herself. Never for herself. But for her, for their, son... She had never confronted him with it so boldly before.

He closed his eyes, unable to deny her. Unable to even deny her.

"We have to tell him, Hestia," he said, so softly.

"We must," she agreed, "But I have not been allowed to see him in almost three hundred years. And I will not have you tell him alone. As much for his sake as for yours."

He nodded, head bowed. 

"Together, then. If I make it through what is to come."

Reaching up she took his chin between her fingers and drew his face down to meet her eyes.

"You will not die this war, Helion," she told him.

Her words flared with that fire she was forced to hide from everyone, everyone but him.

"Because if you try, I will drag the Mother by her hair to your grave and force her to dig you up for me."

He smiled at those words, at the certainty that she would do exactly as she said.

"That almost makes me want to try it, you know," he purred, tracing vague patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with his thumb as he spoke, "Just to see you do that."

She actually growled at him which, from her, was enough to utterly dissuade him from the notion.

They lay in gentle silence together, until the velvet blackness of night bled to indigo, as the careless artist of time spilled the white she used to craft the stars into the sky itself and melted its darkness.

"I've always found it ironic," he mused, "That being High Lord of Day hasn't blessed me with the power to halt the sun, and stop the day from intruding."

"That is your duty, brightheart." she replied with a soft smile." You must assert yourself upon the land, its sleepy lovers, and restless thieves alike, and force them to make haste and more. Without you there would be no growth, no change, only stagnation and decay." 

She cupped his face in her hand, a hand now lined, to show the life she'd lived. Without him. His heart lurched at the thought.

But her voice drew him back to her as she said, "And without Day, the nights would not seem nearly so precious."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her waiting mouth, silent thanks for her words, the feeling behind them. He held her eyes a moment more. spinning out this last bit of thread, like a frugal weaver making the most of fate's allotment.

Then he said, irritably, "I'm still going to have words with Thesan later today."

She laughed as he said that, but she laughed as she withdrew from him. 

How fittingly ironic that the sweetest sound he'd ever heard paired in this moment with the bitterest sorrow he'd ever felt.

He watched her as she withdrew the new gown she'd thought to bring. At a silent glance from her he rose, still naked, and helped to seal her back into her cage of cotton and lace.

He combed and braided her hair, as he'd done a thousand times before. Then, heart aching, as it had a thousand times before, he spun a ward around her, to mask his scent where it mingled with hers. She could carry no reminders of this night save fragile memory.

Then, like the night, with one final kiss, she was gone. The chamber felt cold, even as it was bathed in his light.

Wordless, he pulled on a robe and strode onto his balcony to greet the rising of his sun.

It was a hollow warmth, compared to her, and brought him little comfort. 

As he gazed ahead into his eternity. Alone, once more. Lonely in a way only she would know. For the world saw the friends he surrounded himself with, and the lovers he brought to his bed, without ever knowing the gaping void in his soul that he could never fill with them.

Closing his eyes, he drew in one last breath of her, of them, their scents still mingling on his skin, then banished it.

He turned towards the light, facing this new day, and begged the Mother to lend him even a fragment of his heartlight's strength that he might face it.

***

Fics of 2020 - Masterlist

Words Shared: 402,493 Words Written: 501,289 Favourite Fic: Living Your Life - Jensen x Reader Favourite Series: Owe You One - Dean x Reader Goal for 2021: 500,000 words and to complete ALL my bingo cards. Read more! 

A big thank you to everyone who read through all of those words! Even bigger thank you to those who left their own words behind on each one. Y’all are amazing and there is a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate each and every one of you.  💜

Fitting a Square into a Circle - Dean x Reader

~~After a hunt with an old friend goes a little different than you planned, you make a call to the Winchester’s to help you out of a nasty situation. A situation that leaves you with more  wounds than anyone really knew about.  Square Filled: Dean Winchester for @spngenrebingo

Another Year - Dean x Reader

~~ It’s January 24th. You are awaiting the arrival of the Winchester brothers from a hunt so you can begin celebrating Dean’s birthday. When they do get home, things don’t quite go to plan. Squares Filled: Cuddling ( @spndeanbingo) Bed Sharing ( @spnfluffbingo) Kisses ( @spngenrebingo) Thigh Riding ( @spnkinkbingo)

Valentines Day Sucks - Jensen x Reader

~~Another Valentine’s Day has arrived. You are awaiting your fiancee, only to be stood up. Your best friend comes to the rescue unexpectedly with one of the same issues. Who knew two break ups on Hallmarks favourite holiday would result in some one on one time with someone you had been pushing your feelings down for. Square Filled: Post Break up AU ( @spnfluffbingo​) Friends to Lovers ( @spngenrebingo​) Accidental Kiss ( @spndeanbingo​) Coitus Interruptus ( @spnkinkbingo​)

A Night on the Town - Jensen x Reader

~~You’re attending your first Supernatural convention with your friends, only they ditch you to go out to a different bar. You are stuck waiting for them when an unfortunate event drives you out of a bar and straight to a man that you never expected to meet this way. Square Filled: Jensen Ackles ( @spngenrebingo​) One Night Stand ( @spnkinkbingo​)

The Man on the Side of the Road (Masterlist) - Dean x Reader

~~Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life. 

End the Night- Jensen x Reader

~~On a stormy Sunday evening, Jensen ends his birthday with his girlfriend who has something special to share with him. Squares Filled: Birthday ( @spngenrebingo) Laughing together ( @spnfluffbingo)

Owe You One - Dean x Reader (series)

~~Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Isolation - Dean x Reader

~~ When the croatoan virus takes over half the country, you haul ass to the bunker where your two best friends are to keep you safe. Only, one of them you have had feelings for and the other keeps encouraging you to tell him.

Squares Filled: The Bunker (spndeanbingo) Cuddling (SPNFluffBingo)

D.W. - Dean x Reader

~~The reader ended things with Dean suddenly six months ago. A tragic fire leaves her in the hospital with one pissed off Winchester and a heartbroken brother who just wants to figure out why.

Squares filled: Tattoo (spnkinkbingo) Playing Pretend (spngenrebingo)

Here For the Weekend - Dean x Reader

~~You and Dean met on a dating app ten years after you last saw each other. The two of you matched and became close again, getting off to the sight of each other. Only, it’s not enough for you anymore and you have to decide whether to tell him how you feel or move on.

Squares Filled: Masturbation (spnkinkbingo) Long Distance Relationship (spngenrebingo)

Poison - Jensen x Reader

~~ An abrupt end to a friendship leaves you shattered inside. Words ringing in your head, over and over again. It takes it’s toll and damn near tears you in two. With the help of someone close to you, the words become whispers, and the wounds slowly begin to heal.

Square filled: Caught Red Handed (spnfluffbingo)

Seeing You Again - Jensen x Reader

~~Fifteen years had passed since you had seen the love of your life, Jensen Ackles. Your childhood sweetheart, the man of your dreams. The two of you separated against your wishes. Until he walks into your bakery one day without knowing you owned it. You never expected old feelings to resurface, let alone something more

Squares filled: Childhood Sweethearts (Spnfluff) First time (spngenre)

Been Hurt Before - Dean x Reader

~~You come face to face with your past in one of the least expected places. The face of trauma leaves you feeling like you had been toppled over. The biggest problem of all? Dean doesn’t know about your past and you don’t want him to see you any differently. Squares Filled: Angst to fluff (Spngenre)

The Arrangement

~~After a hunt gone wrong, you take Dean up on the extremely useful  arrangement you both agreed on many years ago to help you get through the night.

Squares filled: Hurt/Comfort ( @spngenrebingo​)  Hunt Gone Wrong ( @spndeanbingo​)

Two Weeks Notice - Jensen x Reader

~~ You’d think that working on the same set for six years would make you feel accomplished… not feeling like you don’t fit in anymore.

Square filled: Friendship (Dean Bingo)

One Mistake - Dean x Reader

~~the reader and the boys are on a witch hunt and the witch made a spell so the reader sees her dead family members and it’s driving her crazy,and dean helps her get through it and they confess they love each other?

Square Filled: Case!Fic (Dean)

Chocolate and Vanilla - Jensen x Reader

~~Jensen sets his best friend up on a blind date to get her back out in the dating world. Little does she know, the man he had in mind was someone that she could see a future with. Squares Filled: Handholding (Fluff) Friends to lovers (Dean)

Personal Assistant - Jensen x Reader

~~It’s review and raise week on set and you’re looking forward to yours. Only when you get yours, your whole world is flipped around followed by a week of hell. It isn’t until Jensen takes notice that you’re a little off that something gets done about it.

Squares Filled: Free Space (Fluff) Hugs (Dean)

This Feeling - Jensen x Reader

~~Depression and Anxiety are the world’s best team when it comes to taking you down. Your head convinces you of things that aren’t always true. Your best friend Jensen is there to remind you of that.

Square Filled: Free Space (Dean)

Know How it Feels - Dean x Reader

~~Normally, your monthly visitor is something you can handle and the boys can’t. An early period brings you a lot more pain than you anticipated. To Sam, it’s just cramps. Dean has a little more concern. Neither of them really know what it’s like to get your period and everything that comes along with it.

Squares Filled: Mutual Pining (Dean) Playing with their Hair (Fluff)

Some Kind of Sadness - Jensen x Reader

~~A Friday night shift at the coffee shop brings you an unexpected customer with a lot more than a cup of coffee on his mind. Squared Filled: Coffee Shop AU (Dean)

Nothing like Heart Break - Jensen x Reader

~~Tonight was the night you were finally going to meet the guy you had been talking to online for the last six months. The person you least expected showed up, leaving you speechless before taking off and heading home to your roommate, who has a few choice words to share.

Squares filled: Feelings Accidently Revealed (Fluff) Online Dating (Genre) Roommates (Dean)

Living Your Life - Jensen x Reader

~~A tragic accident leaves you on the side of the road, not daring to look down at the warm sensation your body is feeling. The only thing on your mind is the man you walked away from over a stupid fight. The feeling of regret is almost stronger than the pain from the injuries you sustained.

Squared Filled: Engagement (Fluff)

Fragile Heart - Dean x Reader

~~You’re out celebrating your new job with your two best friends. When you part ways, you find an attractive man sitting next to you. A man who you have more than a few things in common with, along with an attraction to one another that could get you into trouble. Squares Filled: One Night Stand with New Boss (Fluff)

One and One Make Three - Home for the Holidays

~~Jensen and the Reader are headed to New York to spend their first Christmas together as a couple with the Y/L/N’s. Jensen learns something about the Reader that has him wondering about any other hidden secrets.

All I Ever Wanted - Dean x Reader

~~You had been staying with the Winchester’s since the beginning of the quarantine. A nice, safe place to stay with your favourite people. After months of being stuck at home, you’re really missing out on hugs and affection and you’re wondering if you were wearing out your welcome in the Bunker.

Jensen Hugs - Jensen x Reader

~~A tough day has you calling your best friend Jensen for some much needed hugs.

Reasons to Keep Going - Jensen x Reader (Jensen’s POV)

~~Jensen heads home after a long day of shooting to celebrate the remain hour of October 23rd with his girl. A day that quickly became so significant in their relationship that they look back on it in detail as a reminder of how far one of them has come.

Just One Day

↳ being the extraordinary Choi Yeonjun’s ordinary ex girlfriend had begun to feel like nothing more than a fun fact the longer you two had been apart. He had gone to Korea to chase his dream, and you had all but forgotten about the way he made you feel. When Yeonjun calls and explains he’ll be back for a day, do you go for it?

➤ fluff, angst, smut, idol!yeonjun x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 5,313

Requested?: yes

Warnings: This includes (badly written) mature content! Please do not read between the illustrated borders if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable! Smut warnings include: unprotected sex (don’t do it!), some dirty talk, slight male masturbation. General warnings include:swearing, awkwardness, slight pining, self doubt, mentions of crying/heartbreak, Yeonjun is a sly little shit, Feelings, me not editing or proof reading, me not keeping a very good time line for the story (how long ago did they date? How long were they together? What era are txt in when this story takes place? I didn’t bother to specify so feel free to let your mind run wild)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

It felt weird seeing the Snapchat memory pop up. A younger you smiled back through the screen, hair messy from the wind. Even weirder is the sight of a younger Choi Yeonjun, cheek pressed right against yours and a wide smile taking over his face. You hadn’t forgotten him, there was no way you could, but you had certainly forgotten this day. This date. The two of you had spent the day at an amusement park, skin turning red under the sun as you rode every attraction the park had to offer. As you clicked through the memory, you found a video you took of him dancing next to the picnic table the two of you ate overpriced fries and pizza on. The sound of your own laugh made you smile. You had really been so happy. So many happy memories with Yeonjun cropped up in your mind. All of the movie nights, walks along the lake, lunches and mini golf dates flooded you.

With the happy memories also came the hurt. The countdown to the day he had to leave for Korea, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. You had blocked out so many bad things, but one you could never forget was the night before he left. Since he was leaving so early in the morning, you had come to sleep over so you could be sure not to miss saying goodbye. As the night fell, you clutched onto his shirt and begged him not to forget you. It was pathetic how much you sniffled and sobbed into the thin fabric and pleaded with any entity listening to keep Yeonjun in your life. He had cried too, although you never noticed. The sound of your sobbing consumed his senses as the two of you laid down in his bed and he knew he could do nothing but hold you until you fell asleep. When the heaving and shaking stopped, he looked down on your swollen, tear streaked face and began shaking with his own silent sobs. He loved you. You loved him. But that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together in the way you wished. Yeonjun didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he watched you sleep and pretended everything was okay. Pretended he wasn’t leaving you behind minutes after sunrise. 

That night is one of your very worst memories. You threw your phone to the side, rubbing your hands over your face to reduce some of the weight laying on your shoulders. A hot shower was definitely in order to relieve some tension in your muscles.

Your worries washed down the drain with the scalding water. With a clearer mind you were able to push the sad memories of years past back to the dark corner of your mind where you left them originally. The rest of your day was normal, save for the fact that you felt as if the selfie of you and Yeonjun you had seen earlier was permanently tattooed behind your eyelids. At every spare moment you had you were thinking of him. The Yeonjun you had fallen in love with way before he had millions of other people following his every move. You had neglected to keep up with his actions many months ago when you decided that there was no point in mulling over a guy who would never come back to you.

And given the general lack of interest of kpop harbored by your family and friends; it wasn’t hard for you to reduce Yeonjun to nothing more than a boyfriend who had to move far away. Most of the people in your life now didn’t even know about the years old relationship, anyway. You had decided it was much better that way.

Your day was boring, to be totally honest. You had dedicated the day to cleaning, but your small apartment needed less attention than you originally thought. By 6:30pm, you had already made and eaten dinner and started yourself on a marathon of Hunger Games movies. Right in the middle of Katniss’ adventures in the 74th games; your phone began to vibrate against your thigh with a phone call. The number came up as unknown, and you didn’t recognize the area code as a local one so you let the call drop. Katniss was mourning the death of Rue when your phone vibrated again. This time you saw a voicemail from the mystery number. You were confused. A little bit annoyed at the intrusion, but mostly really confused. Usually scam callers didn’t leave messages, and everyone else that was important to your life was in your phone as a contact.

What the hell, you thought. Just listen to the voicemail and see who it's from, you can always delete the message and block the number later. Disregarding Katniss’ heavy breathing, you clicked on the notification and pressed your phone to your ear. There were a few seconds of silence and some shuffling that made you think it was an accidental butt dial to a very wrong number until a clear voice broke through.

“Hey, Y/N. I know this is super weird but-“ you dropped your phone out of your hand as if it had bitten you. You knew that voice. Yeonjun. What the fuck? With your phone left forgotten on the couch you nervously walked around your apartment. What did he want? How did he get your number? Why was he calling you?

After some self convincing and a cold glass of water, you decided you would get all your answers if you’d just finish listening to the damn voicemail. This time, you listened closer and in the silence of the beginning you could hear some faint Korean that made your blood run cold. This was for real. Yeonjun’s voice crackled through the phone again.

“I’m, uh, in the US right now. LA, actually. We just landed like an hour ago and I though of you- is that weird?” He cleared his throat, “I have a day off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d want to meet up? If you don’t, it’s okay.” A heavy sigh and some more shouting of Korean in the back. “But if you do, we can meet at 10am at that breakfast place you like? I looked it up, the one between the library and the corner market we used to go to? Okay. That’s it. Um, bye.” Even after the end of the message you kept your phone pressed to your ear, in total disbelief of what you’d just heard.

Numbly, you unpaused the movie although none of the horrors of the Games stirred you like normal. The only thing you could focus on was whether or not you should go meet Yeonjun in the morning. What did you have to lose? Other than a little pride if he stood you up or something of the sort, you couldn’t think of much. You could easily catch an Uber there in the morning. But would it be weird? You knew the other members would be with him, but how much did they know? Your nerves made you queasy. The option of not going at all seemed more and more appealing with every passing moment.

You played the movie again, watching but not processing any of the presented images. You wanted to talk this out with someone, but no one really knew about your time with Yeonjun and the situation was way too far fetched to be boiled down to hypotheticals for a friend. Twenty minutes must have passed with you mulling every little detail over in your head. The movie had ended without your knowledge but it didn’t matter anyway. You were already in your bedroom, computer open to YouTube. Skimming your fingers over the keys, you gave the universe time to stop you. To make someone knock on your door, or your mom to call you, or for the power to go out; but nothing of the sort happened. You typed in “tomorrow x together” and shut your eyes as if it would change anything.

Pages of videos- both official and fan made beckoned you down a dangerous rabbit hole. One where you began to miss Yeonjun all over again. He had grown a lot since the last time you had seen him. He was taller, broader. HIs jaw was much more defined and he had taken to wearing jewelry all the time. Side effects of becoming an idol, you supposed. None of those details hurt more than the fact that his personality seemed unchanged. Amplified, yes; but he was still the same goofy, clingy and heartfelt boy you had fallen in love with years ago. You watched the way he interacted with the other members and you felt your heart swell with joy. Some small part of you was worried that pressure and fame would change him but you were amazed to see that was not the case.

Autoplay took it upon itself to load up the next video for you. You felt oddly warm at the idea of seeing even more content; this time through the lense of an adoring fan. A title flashed across the screen in a handwritten font: “Best of Choi Yeonjun”. Edited video clips of him singing, dancing and playing around with the other group members flashed before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lull yourself into a state of comfort upon seeing and hearing him so much. In the back of your mind, you knew you had already silently decided on meeting him tomorrow. You closed your laptop with a renewed excitement before you began to get ready for bed.

When you woke up there was still an hour before your alarm was even set to go off. Despite the early hour you were wide awake as if your nerves had been connected to a live wire pumping electricity through you. There was no grogginess in your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the jumble of nerves in your gut you could have believed you were going to have a perfect day. Your mind stalled at the reality of facing Yeonjun in just mere hours. You think you dreamed about him last night; in some weird, hazy fashion where you can’t remember much other than his presence. Vague details swarmed through your mind throughout the entire duration of your morning routine. Even though you had just showered the night before, you took another one to pass the extra time and take the opportunity to shave as well as you could in the dim light of your bathroom. You were oddly aware of just how quickly your heart was beating through the whole process. The drumming sound in your ears became second nature by the time you stood in front of your closet.

Suddenly, the extra hour your body had subconsciously given you became a blessing as you decided that you had absolutely nothing to wear. The outfit you had planned during your shower looked much worse in real life than you ever would have thought. It was almost as if the open drawers were mocking you, laughing about the fact that you were so nervous about meeting Yeonjun again that you couldn’t even pick out an outfit. You shuffled through all of your hangers multiple times, slipped different dresses and pairs of jeans on until you settled on something that you decided would be good enough- especially with the time of 9:10 am glaring back at you. With the consideration of morning traffic, you needed to be out of your apartment as soon as you possibly could. It was sort of embarrassing how sweaty your palms were as you locked up your apartment door and requested an Uber. Luckily your driver came so fast that you didn’t really have time to dwell on just what you were about to do. Even the ride there gave you no time to overthink, as your friendly driver made polite conversation that you felt bad for slacking on.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk after stalling for as long as you possibly could. The breakfast spot was surprisingly unpopulated compared to the rest of the stores, but just as quaint and adorable as you always remembered. Yeonjun used to live over this way so the two of you frequented the family owned restaurant so much that all of the servers knew your order. Your heart felt as if it was permanently stuck in your throat with the knowledge that Yeonjun was just steps away from you. A few bystanders eyed you suspiciously as you tried to work up the courage to enter the building. Fuck it, you thought. There was no way to avoid this any longer.

The hostess working the front stand seemed to notice your nervous disposition. “Can I help you? Just one?” Suddenly the back of your neck felt warm under her questioning.

“Uhm actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.” The hostess nodded politely.

“Oh, can I ask your name? A man here said he was waiting for a girl to come meet him,” she shuffled a menu around on her podium.

“I’m Y/N,’ you supplied meekly. The hostess’ face lit up as she waved to you to follow her further into the restaurant. The layout was familiar even though the decor had evolved over the last few years. At a corner booth sat Yeonjun with his fluffy hair, intently examining the menu as you approached. The hostess announced your arrival and left in the blink of an eye.

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, totally caught off guard by the sight of him actually in front of you. He rushed out of the booth seat and immediately squished you into a tight hug.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, pulling back to examine you once again before you both sat down on the vinyl seats. “I don’t know what to say, I-” he rubbed his hands over his face, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” You just stared at him for a second, waiting for the cogs in your brain to start up again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come either. But I’m glad I did. I just saw old pictures of us from when we were dating.” It felt so foreign to hear that phrase coming out of your mouth that you almost flinched. Yeonjun’s face softened and he opened his mouth to speak just as your waiter sidled up to the table. He took your orders, and you couldn’t help but realize that you had both ordered your regulars from years ago. Yeonjun picked at his nailbeds for a second. There was so much to talk about that your mind could not settle on a single thing.

“I just wanted to say,” Yeonjun’s voice startled you, “that I’ve missed you a lot. I feel awful about the way we left it, and as soon as I heard we were coming back to the US I had to try and make time to meet you. Unfortunately I only have this one day off so I was hoping you would want to see me too,” he couldn’t contain the smile that grew on his face; the one that hadn’t changed since the last time you ever saw him.

“Of course I wanted to see you, Junnie,” the nickname was automatic and made him crinkle his eyes up happily, “I’ve missed you too.”

It was almost unbelievable how easy it was to fall back into conversation with him. The food was just as good as you always remembered, but it paled totally in comparison to the colorful stories the two of you traded. His were-of course- much more riveting and star studded than yours could ever hope to be. He told you tales of everything from his friends to his late nights practicing, to all of the places he had traveled since going into the company. All you had to offer were some stories of your adventures with family and friends but Yeonjun still listened with rapt attention. The flow of conversation was just as easy as you always remembered it to be. Even through mouthfuls of your breakfast you were having a better time with Yeonjun than you had with anyone else in months.

The waiter came to clear your plates during a natural lull in your conversation and suddenly the magical spell casted on the two of you seemed to lift. Yeonjun’s face was flushed red and you became extremely interested in your cuticles.

“I’ll pay for our food,” he reached for the check that had been placed face down on the table as you scoffed.

“No, I can pay for myself, it’s fine,” you held your hand out expectantly but he never handed over the receipt. Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed.

“No, absolutely not. I’m the one who asked you to meet me here out of the blue after not seeing you for years. And it’s just one day that I’m here. The very least I can do is pay for your meal, Y/N. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a guy treating you?” He waved down the waiter and handed over the check along with a credit card.

“Well to be fair, I haven’t really had a guy ‘treat me’ in a while,” you grumbled at him, “but that’s an unfair way to guilt me into letting you buy my food.” You were pouting now, you knew. Yeonjun cooed at your change in behavior.

“Too bad. I want to be your complimentary boyfriend for the day. So I’m paying. And you get to pick the next place we go.” There was no way you could argue with him although the thought of him being your “boyfriend” again made your brain set off alarms.

“Okay, Junnie. Just remember you dug your own grave.”

Following breakfast, you drug him into your favorite boutique where the two of you had your own coming of age movie style try on in the dressing rooms. You hated to admit just how well Yeonjun had pulled off every single outfit he put on. Even the bright green button up and cheetah print bucket hat you had picked as a joke looked amazing on him. It was hard to miss the way he had bulked up, arms bulging against the fabric of the shirt as he twisted around in front of the mirror to admire himself. Mentally you slapped yourself. No drooling allowed, Y/N. This was no longer the Yeonjun who was your first love. This Yeonjun was famous and in the eyes of the public, living halfway across the world. There was no way he still thought about you the same way you thought of him.

He had noticed your lapse in behavior and chalked it up to him actually enjoying your prank outfits.

“Awe, it’s okay Y/N. We can go to Goodwill and you can find me something really awful to try on. I promise I’ll look hideous,” he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and guided you towards the cashier with a grin so he could buy the last two items you ever thought he would enjoy. You pushed through your slowly souring mood to dutifully follow Yeonjun to another small shop nearby. Your thoughts were beginning to wander farther and farther until you completely tuned his voice out of your head. A hand ruffling up your hair ended your daydreaming. You grabbed Yeonjun’s hand and yanked it away.

“Leave me alone,” your tone was flatter than you wanted him to hear. His face instantly crumpled in confusion before turning serious. You could tell he wanted to say something to you but the atmosphere of the store was just not right. Pop music was piped through the speakers and you could hear the faint hum of the workers talking to one another. Without another word, Yeonjun guided you out of the store and back out to the front of the store.

“I think we should talk in private. Would you feel comfortable if we went back to your apartment?” Your heart swelled at his consideration of your comfort.

Just one slightly awkward Uber ride later, you were letting Yeonjun into your apartment. Suddenly you were worried about the fact that your bed wasn’t made and that you hadn’t dusted in way too long. Of course he didn’t notice, but as he sat down on your couch you couldn’t help but remember the pizza sauce stain on one of the cushions that you had hidden with a well placed throw pillow.

“C’mon, sit down. This is your home and you’re acting more awkward than I am,” he patted the cushion beside him but you chose to leave an intentional space between you, intimidated by the way he spread his legs out in front of him. “What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle, just the way you remember it from all your late nights and early mornings together.

You sighed. “It’s just weird. You being here, I mean. Before, I just saw you as a boy like the same way I was just a girl. Now I’m still just a girl but you’re,” you struggled for the words, “now you’re an it boy. But you still had my number in your phone. You still chose to use your day off to walk around with me! I guess I just don’t know why.” He was silent, watching you with slightly pouted lips and wide eyes.

“Oh,” your eyes crinkled in shock. Oh? That’s all he had to say? Before you had time to fume, he continued; “I thought it was pretty obvious. I still like you. A ton. Leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. You’ve never been just a girl to me, Y/N. I chose to come see you on my day off because I couldn’t bare the thought of being in your city with free time and not at least trying to make you understand.” You could feel yourself shrinking under his intense gaze.

“Understand what?” you whispered. He leaned closer, eliminating the gap you had created between the two of you. Just inches from your face, you could clearly see the way his sparkling eyes shifted between your own eyes and your lips several times. You knew he was giving you an out. Time to back away and tell him no. But you didn’t want an out. His lips were chapped but just as full as you had always remembered them to be. The first kiss was short and sweet, just a little testing peck as the initial spark lit a larger, raging fire inside of you.

He wasted no time going in for a second kiss, this one much longer and slower and very reminiscent of what you used to share with him. It felt as if he was pulling all of the air from your lungs and replacing it with his own. You felt your dormant feelings leak from the inside out in such a rush that you had to push him away from you. Chest heaving, you laid your head against the solid muscle of his chest. Your eyes burned with unshed tears and all of the thoughts you desperately wanted to spill. Yeonjun stroked your hair and said nothing as you quietly collected yourself.

“It’s been so long. How do you still make me want you so bad?” Yeonjun laughed in a tone that bordered on remorseful.

“Guess I’m magic,” his lips descended on yours again, this time much needier as his hands began to roam all over your body. He kept a strong grip on your hips before sliding a hand up the front of your shirt. You gasped at the feeling.

“Are you okay? I can stop if-“ you shook your head rapidly and wrapped your hand around his wrist to guide him farther up your shirt, resting over your bra.

“I’m fine, please touch me.” He pushed you down against your couch and pressed his weight between your spread legs. Every part of you was on edge, hyper aware of every single movement that Yeonjun made. Mouthing at your neck, using both hands to squeeze at your breasts, the subtle rock of his hips against your center. Jolts of pleasure wracked through you.

“You’re so beautiful. So much more perfect than I even remembered,” Yeonjun stripped your shirt over your head and traced his fingers down your sides. You shivered as he worked his hands behind your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You couldn’t help but snort at the scrunched up face of concentration that melted away his dominant facade.

“Need some help?” Trying to bite back your laughter only worked for so long before you turned into a giggly mess under him. He tipped his head back and let out a whine that made your stomach stir in arousal given your situation.

“Don’t laugh, it’s been a long time,” his voice was thicker, deeper than it had been for the rest of the day and only served as a reminder of the tell tale bulge pressed against your inner thigh. Unclasping your own bra was a breeze, but you allowed Yeonjun the pleasure of actually pulling it away from your body. Before you had time to cover yourself up, the boy above you was diving down to press kisses on each breast, paying special attention to your nipples until you were squirming uncontrollably under his weight. He got the message and made short work of your jeans and panties.

“Hold on,” he groaned at the sight of you while he struggled to get off of the couch and strip himself down as quick as possible. He had no shame, and the way you were laying gave you a perfect view of all of the exposed skin. His well built arms and torso flexed underneath his virtually flawless skin. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one go before eagerly climbing back on top of you. You were at a loss for words at the sight of his body but luckily Yeonjun didn’t mind your silence. He used it to his advantage as he rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs teasingly.

“Jun,” your hips canted upwards and caught on the head of his cock, “please.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and that seemed to break his resolve instantly.

“Okay, fuck. I can’t resist you anymore princess,” he grunted his understanding and weaved his fingers through yours on either side of your head. Slowly, he pushed into you. He bit back moans the whole time, occasionally rocking his hips against you to stimulate your clit as well as he could. Your back arched off of the couch; neck bent at an awkward angle although it was the least of your worries as Yeonjun’s cock was fully sheathed inside of you. Your body was in overdrive; impossibly warm and sensitive even at the smallest roll of his hips.

Instantly you were a needy mess and could only focus on the feeling of Yeonjun’s skin against yours. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as he pinned you down and began to thrust with the kind of intensity you weren’t expecting. Hard thrusts shifted your body underneath his and forced sounds you never heard yourself make from your throat. Yeonjun was just as loud, grunting and moaning at every snap of his hips.

With a slight shift of his weight, he was laying on top of you, totally encasing your body in his presence and burying his nose in the sensitive skin of your shoulder. The new angle forced him even deeper into you and a new wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your inner walls contracted around Yeonjun’s cock as a result and his hips stuttered at the feeling.

“Oh, do that again,” he commanded before biting into the soft skin behind your ear. You followed his orders easily and felt his cock twitch as a reward.

“Fuck, I’m close already, you’re so hot. You made me like this. Shit, princess. I missed you so much,” his thrusts became impossibly faster and deeper, bringing you just moments away from the feeling you were so desperately chasing.

“Jun,” your voice was high and needy, “I need more, I need more,” your words melted into incoherence but he still got the message and dislodged one of his hands from your shared grip to harshly rub at your clit. The touch was absolutely electric. Your eyes rolled back in your head and it only took a few more thrusts from Yeonjun before your vision turned white. You knew you were yelling and whining pathetically but you couldn’t get yourself to stop as he continued drilling into you to prolong your high and chase his own.

As soon as you began to calm down, Yeonjun pulled out. Although you felt painfully empty, your attention shifted immediately to the sight of him working a hand over his cock. He hadn’t given you the time to marvel at him earlier, so you took the opportunity to wonder at the perfect size and curve of his reddened cock, glistening with the sheen of your release. Yeonjun’s voice heightened the faster he moved his hand; swirling his thumb around the tip shakily before he finally released in hot spurts across your body. The sounds he made as he came all over your stomach and chest were nothing short of heavenly. Even through his ragged breaths he called out to you, chanting praise that made your stomach turn in more ways than one.

Despite the messy state of your skin, Yeonjun pulled you upwards and insisted on wrapping you up in a hug. You felt a little disgusted at all the fluids involved but said nothing. The two of you hadn’t really hugged since the day he left. He placed a kiss on your forehead and there was no denying just how tender the action was, especially following the spontaneous sex the two of you had just finished.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I do like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I didn’t just say that to have sex with you, I hope you know that. I would say I even love you but…” his voice was raspy from overuse. You stared into his eyes, trying to read the odd mix of emotions swirling in his irises.

“It’s okay, Jun. I know you can’t...with work and everything,” you traced patterns on his bare chest, “I like you too. Even though we’ve found ourselves in a super weird spot here. And I’m happy we, ya know.” Your face was burning at the absurdity of being shy about it when a mere three minutes ago you were begging for him. “And I love that we’re cuddling and everything, and it’s a great moment for us, but I’m cold and sticky,” your nose scrunched involuntarily at the confession. Yeonjun couldn’t hold back the loud laugh that brought you back to every other moment you’d heard it before.

“Guess those things are my fault, huh?” Yeonjun teased, leaning down to place a light kiss onto your nose. You feigned upset but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he wiggled his way off of the couch. You tried your best not to stare at his towering form as you took the hand he held out to you.

“Shower?” He questioned, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you as you stood to your full height. For a second you hesitated, knowing the fondness growing in your heart would only hurt you even more in just a few hours. But you had him for just one day. Why not make the most of it?

The damn jacket

Word count: 2,210

Pairing: none rlly

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, like a sentence of Mötley Crüe slander xD, um bad structure??

A/N: this is a mess. modern AU, kinda character analysis, idek but it was fun. Inspired by @pirate-shrimp  (if any of u catch the MSI reference I will marry u on the fucking spot)

Kid had bar vibes. He was the kind of guy you found sitting in the corner of your local pub, just far away from the others not to be forced into a conversation but also not far away enough to seem lonely.

He was the local phenomena of the man you didn´t want to get close to but whose story you wanted to know at the same time. The guy who pushed people away because he was more scared of hurting them than being hurt.

Hell, he doubted he could get hurt anymore at this point, over the years he´s lost so many friendships, been betrayed so much by the people he considered the closest to him, it was laughable.

Maybe that was why he didn´t let anyone get close anymore, why he always seemed so distant, his thoughts stuck in a past long gone or perhaps a future he knew he´d never have.

A good for nothing college drop out, those were the hard facts he had to face every day.

It wasn´t because he was dumb that he quit, far from it. Kid wasn´t thrown out, he quit himself because college was too restricting for him. There were some classes that were nice enough, but working towards exams really wasn´t his style, he wanted to do something, anything really.

People like him didn´t have it easy, society measured your worth in degrees and results. But what if the way was so much more fun than the end result?

Kid had a lot of jobs to make a living, never staying in one though, he got bored so easily. How could anyone expect anyone to keep doing the same routinized thing for over 40 years? It was insanity. To him anyways.

Being punk, never fitting in, living the life of sex, drugs and rock n roll…. It all seemed so much more fun than it really was.

Kid´s band was a bad ripoff of Mötley Crüe, though some might argue that the band itself was.

Yes, he fit into some stereotypes that he was so sick of hearing: playing in a band, being that eccentric lead singer that caused too much trouble for his own good, though the second part wasn´t true anymore. Lately he just wanted people to leave him alone.

It was nice being a small town band, the bonds with your audience were so much stronger, it felt like hanging out with friends rather than playing a show for money. Kid never wanted that feeling to end, he never wanted to end up like those big bands who lost their spark, who lost that glimmer in their eyes, their racing heart when Killer counted and initiated their first song, the immense feeling of belonging whenever the crowd would sing his words back to him.

This.

This was what he was made for. Passion. That was what was missing when he was studying, he needed to do things, be that sketching or tinkering with his car or writing everything down that was going on in his head.

In truth Kid started writing because it all got too much, too many fake people around him, too many people acting like his best friend and leaving him cold the next day, too many people telling him they loved him and then spitting at him, gossiping behind his back.

A part of him missed the times when he cared, when he was shocked and hurt by this. By now it´s become so common, like the energy drink before work.

Kid didn´t have the dream rockstar life, not the one where people looked so cool shooting up in those movies, that shit was fucked up and society was sick for portraying it like that.

He only had bad experiences with drugs, living in a small town like this he saw the addicts everywhere, sad creatures who couldn´t support themselves anymore, who got dependent on things that destroyed them because nobody would help, because nobody gave a shit about them. Why would they? They were good for nothings who couldn´t work ten hours in some shitty job that didn´t pay them enough to pay rent.

The system wasn´t corrupt? Yeah, bullshit.

The problem he faced was that of a fleeting society, a society that sped up so much, never once slowing down and looking around to see what was out there. They never thought about expanding their horizons.

Schoolings were looked down upon, but at the same time cheered for. It was so strange… the craft was dying but also needed.

Nothing held value anymore, nothing lasted, nothing strove to.

Kid was happy with his life as it was now. He hated being selfish and arrogant but learned that a certain amount was needed to survive, you needed to look out for yourself before you could look out for anyone else. A local rockstar, frequent bar visitor, the best mechanic in town. All those fit him so well but at the same time he looked the part, oh how he hated it sometimes. The acquaintances he made because of his looks, because people spread rumors about him, making him more myth than man, it was pretty tiring.

Especially when they all were disappointed by the rather bland truth.

Not that Kid was bland in any way, it was just that people expected so much more from him, they wanted him to be this rebel, this punk, this heartbreaker.

Expected him to have tattoos and piercings but the truth was that he had such a low pain tolerance it was embarrassing. Yes, he bore every punch and kick he ever got without any complaints because there were parts of him that told him he deserved it, parts that hated him more than anything else.

Just try it…. there´s nothing you can do that I haven´t already done myself, you can´t hate me more than I hate myself.

Ah yes, the typical phenomenon of this generation: being way too soft and overly sensitive.

That was it, they weren´t more considerate and aware of their mental health and other people´s wellness, of identity and morals, of things that got swiped under the rug because ´it was always this way´. Why the fuck would people so desperately try to keep something misogynistic, racist and homophobic up? Just because it existed the majority of time doesn´t mean it was a good system.

Fuck, it never was.

And Kid was sick of everyone playing down those things. So what if he was a fucking crybaby and didn´t get humor? He wouldn´t take this shit anymore, yeah it mostly didn´t affect him but he got angry beyond belief for the people it did affect.

It wasn´t fair.

He couldn´t do anything? It wouldn´t matter anyway? It wouldn´t make a difference? So fucking what. He´d never know if he didn´t try.

Just now Kid finished up his work at the garage, closing up shop for the day. It was a busy day, many people who were driving through came to him to do a check up, others came by for their regular reparation. He loved that busy meant fun in his world. He was so fucking happy that he could do the things that brought him joy, that burned like a fire in his heart. And no, he didn´t care how cheesy that sounded.

Washing his hands and closing the door behind him he called Killer to let him know he was done. Killer was also just now finishing up his shift at the record shop. Now was their time to rehearse, band practice was always the best part of the day, though quite honestly most of the time it was just the guys hanging out and having a good time. And they wouldn´t have it any other way.

Kid grabbed his jacket and locked the doors before making his way to his car.

The jacket. That damn jacket.

It was where it all started. He bought that old thing from his first ever pay at the garage, his boss told him to spend it on something nice for himself, something that´d make him a man. He didn´t ever ask what he meant by that, his boss said weird things at times. But this was true, at least in a sense.

It was the first time Kid ever stepped foot inside of a second hand store and it was like heaven revealed himself to him, it was pure paradise. Just going through the aisles, finding treasures like no other, it became one of his favorite things to do.

The jacket was the first thing that ever caught his eye, the firs thing he purchased. The black leather with the yellow and dark red details, the skull on the back… it was calling to him. Those were his favorite colors, he didn´t even have to think about it before he bought it.

But what about it made him a man? It was just a jacket after all. But that´s where you´d be wrong.

It was so much more than that.

The very next day he started wearing it religiously, he noticed people staring at him at the streets but this time it wasn´t because he was a loser, it was because he looked fucking cool. The jacket boosted his confidence immensely. And it showed.

His boss complimented him and said that from this day on his journey was only beginning, and how right he was with that.

It was the day he reconnected with his high school friend Killer, he didn´t even know he was back in town, let alone working at his favorite record shop and searching for a band to play drums for. So Kid got his first guitar and played it to death, jamming with Killer and searching for others, thus meeting Heat and Wire, the coolest guys on earth.

He grew so much, finding more and more passion in his life, only his jacket stayed the same. He decided that it was time to change that.

Kid went to the crafts store and bought red leather protectors with a quilting pattern, sewing it to the shoulders of the jacket. He also decided to pimp the skull, making it his own personal jacket in painting on the goggles he wore at work, two knives as a cross because it was edgy and of course: his hair. His untamable hair that would never hold up so he got used to wearing any sort of silly glasses, sometimes even the goggles from work. Hair gel was a lie to him, so was hairspray.

He painted bright red flames in homage to his dyed hair, yeah, it wasn´t just a phase.

Everything was coming together.

He grabbed his stupidly large square blue sunglasses that made him look like a dad. Yes, Kid had a dad style. He loved second hand shirts more than anything, not the boring ones, the ones with the stupidest prints, he wore dad shoes like no one´s business and he was proud of it. He was the cool dad, the cool dad with the big car and puns that were so bad they somehow got good again. But damn, did he have talent with words. Screw not being able to formulate shit in speech, that man could write like a god, or rather the devil. Because, let´s be real, the devil sounds so much better on the mic.

Starting the engine, he drove home to at least make some room to sit for his friends, on the way he shopped for groceries too. Now that he was home he got the snacks, drinks and notebooks ready as well as the tons of pens where he never knew which one worked but never threw any away because somehow he thought he´d exchange the mines. Yeah, as if.

He threw on a black shirt and some black joggers before tying his hair up into a tiny ponytail, still his bangs fell in his face as always. It was annoying so he clipped them back with some black hair clips. He didn´t care if he looked stupid with that, at least he could see clearly now.

But getting a hair cut? No way, he looked too cool for that.

Kid opened the door when the others came and sat down on the couch with his acoustic guitar, lately they decided to play around with reimagining their songs after supporting and motivating Kid to sing rather than growl. He had such a nice guttural and gruff voice, these imperfections when singing, the edges just made the song that much more genuine.

Listening to Kid you just couldn´t help but get mesmerized, the way his biceps flexed when he held the guitar, the emotions in his eyes, the way he frowned and squinted whenever the lyrics got emotional and close to home, it made you want to protect him, to keep him happy, to keep this alive, this wonderful world he created for himself.

The others also scribbled down ideas and practiced new melodies, tried out new lyrics and solos. After a while work mixed in with private chats and the night faded into distant, nostalgic laughter and the crinkles around Kid´s eyes that showed how much it all meant to him.

Year of the Rabbit — Four: Resolutions

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Yoongi, Taehyung x Jimin

Tags — best friend!Jungkook, non-idol au, flower shop au, gym au, florist!MC, gym owner!Jungkook, brother!Namjoon, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining

Genre — fluff, slight angst

Word Count — 3.9k

Summary — Blame it on the storm or the secret feelings or the snow-in, but one thing is for sure: a lot can happen to two best friends when they're confined to their stores overnight. 

Warnings — language

Part — 4 / 7

Previous — Next

When you've gathered a couple pans and utensils, you scurry back to the baker. The moment to yourself made things a bit easier to hide. But the thought of Jungkook's closeness still presses against your mind's backdoor. When you return, it's even harder to ignore. He's meticulously counting ingredients, lips pursed in an adorable manner. He's organized the containers around him, with the portable stovetop in front. In the makeshift kitchen, he's completely at home as he chops protein for the Tteokguk. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the beautiful array of ink is on display. He sits cross-legged, oddly domestic in front of the bakery.

"You just gonna stand there, or are you going to get down here and help me?"

You shake your head and walk towards the dimly-lit space. On the way, you admire the colorful array of rainbow lights around you. "They really went all-out with the Lunar New Year decor, didn't they?"

Jungkook takes the pans and utensils you offer him, muttering a swift thank you. "They're pretty. I think they give the space a nice ambiance."

As he measures ingredients, you remove the blanket from your shoulders, fold it several times over, and use it as a cushion. Jungkook's skilled hands work on measuring the oils and spices, along with a healthy dose of soy sauce. He places each ingredient in small bowls and sets them off to the side. 

"How'd you get the power for the stovetops?"

"The generator's through the door behind the bakery," he replies. "I plugged it in and borrowed some from that." He nods to the bottled water at his side. "Can you get some water going on the stove? Fill it up halfway. That should be enough."

"Then we add the brisket, right?" It takes four or five bottles before the pot on the largest of the three burners is to your liking. "I barely remember this from when Mom used to make it."

Jungkook smiles up at you as he offers a smaller dish of protein. His arm maneuvers around the burner, avoiding the heat source to not risk any burns. "And the garlic."

You shake your head, and after the water begins to boil, you add both ingredients. "It's a good thing you remember this, Gym Bunny. Otherwise, we'd both starve."

"No need to thank me for that," he snickers. "What you should be thanking me for is coming back for you at all. I could've stayed at your nice, warm apartment with the damn cat, but no. I braved the winter storm—"

"—Like an idiot—"

"—To save your ass. You're welcome." 

"Maybe you should've stayed with Elizabeth the 3rd, then! I could've made it out on my own, or found this place, and would've had some nice peace and quiet."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. As he reaches for a knife, placing the edge of the sharp blade against the green onion, he winces. The painful twitch of both his expression and his fingers isn't lost on you. He tries to grip the knife again, and when you glance down, you see his fingers are still tinged red from the cold. That hour he spent trekking from your apartment to the flower shop took a toll on him. It's one that he's refused to acknowledge.

"Dumbass," you mutter under your breath. Reaching across, you take the utensil from his tattooed hands. You slide the makeshift cutting board (an upside-down plate) over to your side of the little kitchen. "Stop trying to grip things. Your fingers are still half-frozen."

Jungkook relents, which surprises you in and of itself. He doesn't comment on the state of his hands. He only moves onto the next task of separating the egg yolks from the whites. 

Your attention shifts from the green onions up to your best friend. It's difficult not to be caught off-guard by his silence. "You okay, Kookie?"

The brunet's dark eyes move up to yours, and he gives a soft smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, didn't realize they were still hurt...and you know how I feel about not being able to do things."

You finish the chopping and set the greens aside. "Don't beat yourself up about it. You need to learn to lean on others from time to time. A little teamwork won't kill you."

"It won't?"

A loud laugh slips out at his snide comment, which brings back Jungkook's adorable smile. He continues to tell you what to prep next, and as the minutes pass, you find yourself slipping into a rhythm with him. It's not the first time you've cooked together; far from it. Between after-school study sessions in high school, midnight mental health breakdowns in college, and post-education hangouts, the two of you have made a mess plenty of times. Much to Yoongi's dismay.

A chuckle slips out at the sudden resurgence of those college-era memories. "What do you think Yoongi would say if he saw us here right now, trying to make Tteokguk in the middle of a supermarket?"

Jungkook giggles as he adds the rice cakes to the boiling brisket and water, along with most of the spices and oils. "He'd probably just roll his eyes and warn us to clean up or he'd bury our bodies in the woods. His reaction doesn't scare me as much as Seokjin's."

The mention of your mutual friend causes you to double-over in laughter. Seokjin, the most traditional Korean man you know, would be horrified. "He'd probably just...die."

"But not before he'd scream at us," Jungkook adds, raising the large wooden spoon and gesturing to you. His eyes widen and he changes his voice to mimic Seokjin's satoori. "You can't just cook Tteokguk like that! What are you thinking? You're lucky you're not my son or I would have disowned you if I saw you using pre-made, frozen rice cakes! Hey! Stop it! I raised you better than this!"

The impression is spot-on, so much so that it has you gasping for air and red in the face from laughing. Tears burn your eyes, and you wave your hand at Jungkook, a silent plead for him to stop. You're unlucky enough that your best friend is a slight sadist and enjoys seeing you lose your mind.

"If you think it's so funny to cheat out on a thousand years of Korean cuisine history, then go ahead! But not in my house, and you have to be obedient to me because I'm an older person!"

"Stop, stop, stop," you gasp, curling in on yourself as you fall over onto the soft blanket. "It. Hurts." 

Jungkook continues his impression. His expression and voice grow more dramatic as time goes on. "Is this the thanks I get for buying your meals, huh? Do you know how many times I did that when you were a broke college freshman? I can't even count on my fingers! I don't have enough! I can't calculate! Because I secretly can't count!"

"Jeon Jungkook!" you rasp, smiling so wide your face hurts. "Please, god, stop."

Finally, he relents, voice shifting to a collection of giggles. Your breathing returns to normal, and your facial redness subsides. "You okay there, Flower Child?"

"I will kill you."

Jungkook smirks as he begins to add the final ingredients to the Tteokguk. "Highly doubt that. Especially with the Tteokguk almost done!"

Pulling yourself back into a seated position, you give Jungkook a pouty expression. "You promised me Hwajeon." You hold up a container of edible flowers.  

The brunet chuckles at your childish expression. He rolls his sleeves up a little farther, showing more of his tattoo sleeve in the process. He pushes the bag of flour to your side of the burners. "Have at it then. I'll finish up the Teokguk while you fry the cakes."

Your smile widens and you take the ingredients with eager hands. As you measure, Jungkook begins final preparations for the meal. He adds nori and strips of fried egg yolks. The smells that fill the supermarket are divine. For a moment, you forget the situation that brought you here. The blizzard outside. The lack of power. The fact that you're trapped in the store until morning. None of it matters anymore. Jeon Jungkook has always had that effect on you; he excels at making people forget their problems and sadness. It's one of the reasons you missed him more than life while spending time as an exchange student.

"What're you thinking about?" he asks, after a moment of silence.

Shrugging your shoulders, you begin to roll the ball of warm dough into smaller balls and prep them for frying. "Just about the past year. A lot's happened." You take a few of the edible flowers and press one into the flattened face of each bough ball. "A lot's changed."

Jungkook nods his agreement, once again stirring the pot. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "How do you feel about your last semester at university?"

"Glad it's finally almost done," you scoff. "Been a long time coming. I loved traveling abroad, but it made me realize that what I have here with my friends, with the shop...this is home. Once the three of us graduate, I bet business will pick up."

Jungkook's shoulders relax, and he sighs in a way that almost sounds relieved. "So you think you're with those two idiots for the long-haul, huh?"

Thinking of Hoseok and Yoongi brings a sentimental smile to your face. You toss the first round of flattened dough into the oiled skillet. "I think so. We all work together well, and I love Seoul. I don't see myself living anywhere else, really. As a small business owner, you know what I mean when I say you're kinda anchored to your business."

"At least you have an online aspect," he snickers. Reaching for the serving bowls, he nods his chin towards the front of the store, as if to his gym across the street. "Can't exactly work out virtually."

"Ha! I wish."

"But I get what you mean, and honestly? I'm glad to hear it. I was kinda worried you'd end up loving the U.S. and...I don't know, want to move out of Korea or something."

As you flip the Hwajeon over, your gaze drifts upward. Jungkook's hair hangs over his eyes, but under that, you can see a rosy blush spread across his cheeks. His lip is between his teeth as he focuses on pouring the soup without spilling. If you didn't know better, you'd say he was embarrassed.

"Would you miss me if I did?" 

The question comes out without you thinking too hard about it. From the way Jungkook keeps his eyes away from yours, you second-guess if it was the right thing to ask. God knows it could be read into pretty easily. But the little feeling in the back of your mind, the one you'd locked away, has found a lock-pick. It's desperately trying to free itself. It wants to know the answer. For that reason, you wait with bated breath for a response.

"Like hell," he admits. "You're my best friend. I go to you about everything. I...don't know what my life would be like if I didn't have you in it, to be honest."

His words are sentimental, filled with truth, and drag out a complex array of feelings. You're both elated and terrified. Mostly the former, but the tiny prick of dread in your chest won't go away. Your realization from earlier in the evening is accompanied by these intense feelings. 

And since you have no idea what to do with them, you answer the best way you can, through a clouded mind. "Well, you don't need to worry, Bunny. I'm not going anywhere."

Jungkook's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. Finishing with the plating, he nods to the Hwajeon. "About done?”

"What? Oh—yeah. Just about."

He passes you a plate and turns off both burners. "Then let's eat. Put them on the plate and follow me. I found the perfect place for a Lunar New Year meal."

After the Hwajeon is plated and the dual bowls of Tteokguk are on a platter, Jungkook leads you towards the front area of the supermarket. It's farther down than you previously ventured. It's past the food and drink to the small home goods, clothing, and electronics section. He must've come across it when he was looking for the burners. 

In the corner, next to the large windows at the front, there's a window display similar the one at the flower shop. It's a cubby of sorts, where the bay windows extended into the sidewalk. There used to be mannequins displayed with a variety of winter clothing. Jungkook's shoved them aside. In their place, he's arranged several blankets and pillows around a low table. He's even pushed one of the storage bins up behind the pillows to have something to lean back against.

"You did all this by yourself?" you ask.

Jungkook nods, sets the food onto the low table, and settles onto one of the cushions with a sigh. "You took forever getting the utensils, so I came over here and messed with some stuff." He pats the spot beside him. "The snow's lightening a bit. It looks so pretty from inside. Maybe we'll even see some fireworks in a little while."

You take your seat beside him, trying to ignore the fact that his thigh presses against yours and his arm brushes your shoulder when he offers you your bowl. For a moment, your eyes lock. Jungkook averts his attention, his dimple popping out as he purses his lips.

Taking it with a small "thank you" and slight bow of your head, you turn your gaze from the awkward boy down to the meal. Inhaling the aroma, you let a lazy smile spread across your face.

"Holy shit, this smells amazing."

"Just like Mom's," he breathes. Turning to the side, he holds up his glass bowl towards yours. "Cheers?"

"To a Happy New Year." You tap your bowl against his, giggling at the soft clink that it makes. 

After digging in and continuing to praise yourselves on a job well done, you change the topic of conversation. "So, you have any New Year's resolutions?"

"Isn't that an American thing?"

"It never hurts to look forward," you say in a snide tone, rolling your eyes at Jungkook's grin. "Fess up. What are you looking forward to in the Year of the Rabbit?"

Jungkook settles back against the pillows, taking another sip from the broth. "You first."

"Well..." you trail off, watching the blizzard slow to a soft fluttering of snowflakes outside the neon-lit window. "Kinda already told you mine, to be honest. Graduate. Grow the shop. Expand the business. Things of that nature."

"What about in your personal life?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I wanna get back to Ilsan to visit Mom and Dad more. I should also probably track down Joon and spend more time with h—"

"—Not what I meant, [Y/n]," Jungkook interrupts.

You tilt your head when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. "What did you mean then?"

The brunet shrugs and grabs a piece of Hwajeon. "You've been single ever since you dated that douche in high school. What was his name?"

"Ugh, Hae-song," you groan, not at all enjoying the resurgence of your exes name. 

"Yeah! That one," Jungkook chuckles. "I get best friend rights to know if you're seeing anyone lately."

"Awfully brave of you to assume that Hae-song was my last boyfriend."

Jungkook's eyes widen. "Did I miss something—Wait, when you were in the States?"

You nod once and set your finished bowl aside, glancing over your shoulder at the drink aisle a few meters away. Hopping up, you scurry over and grab a couple of bottles of you and Jungkook's favorites. "This conversation's going to need some soju," you murmur under your breath. "I can feel it."

Settling back down at his side, you offer one of the bottles to Jungkook with a tired smile. Cracking yours open with ease, you take a long sip before settling back against the cushions. Jungkook opens his in silence and allows you to collect your thoughts.

"Yeah, I met a guy," you admit. "He was another exchange student from Daegu. Whatever the odds, he ended up in the same group as me. We studied together a lot, and then we started dating a few weeks in."

"Are you still together?"

"God no," you reply, shaking your head fervently. "I would've told you if I was by now. We broke up a little before I left. He wanted to stay in the States long-term, as in, like, get a work Visa and move there. I'm not about a long-distance relationship. So we both thought it best to go our separate ways."

Jungkook nods along to your story, doing his best to understand where you're coming from. "Do you miss him?"

"Not really. He was nice and all, but we weren't all that close. I knew what I wanted out of life; so did he. Neither of us was gonna change, so it was easier to let go."

"Oh..." he breathes, then takes another gulp of the alcoholic beverage. 

"Sounds horrible when I say it like that." You laugh it off, then bump your shoulder against Jungkook's. His silence makes you a tiny bit smug, and his intense focus on the soju bottle invites a little giggle to escape. "Is someone jealous?"

Through flustered words, Jungkook manages to sputter, "Yeah, you wish. I...again, would've missed the hell out of you if you'd stayed. For a second, you scared me."

In a burst of bravery, aided by the alcohol in your system, you reach for Jungkook's free hand. Your fingers brush against his tattooed knuckles as you hold it between your own. Your touch is gentle. Even more so when you notice the slight scarlet hue that still ruminates on his fingertips.

You smile, softly running a forefinger across the ink on the back of his hand. "I hope you believe me when I say I'm not leaving."

Jungkook doesn't move an inch as your hands rest on his. He barely even breathes, afraid to move or speak or exhale. If it means running the risk of pushing you away by accident, he'd rather stay frozen for the rest of the night. 

"Promise, jagiya?"

Emphasis is given to your words as you hook your smaller pinky around his. Despite the cold outside, his skin is warm, and the touch sends sparks through your body. It doesn't help that he's close enough to hear your breathing. Close enough to rest his head on yours if he wanted to. Close enough kiss if you wanted to.

You shove that thought away, squeezing your pinky to mask your true feelings. "I promise." Embarrassed, you let his hand drop to his thigh and cross your arms over your chest. The action readjusts you to put a little more space between you both, much to Jungkook's dismay. "Your turn, Gym Bunny. What are your resolutions?"

"You never answered my question, though."

Rolling your eyes, you retort, "Fine. No, I'm not seeing anyone, nor do I have anyone in mind. Happy? Now, your turn."

Though taken back by your sudden withdrawal from him, Jungkook tries to focus on the question instead of the way the ghost of your touch lingers on his tattooed knuckles. "Well, like you, I wanna grow the business. Jimin and I are planning to look at some locations in Gangnam later this spring. If all goes well until then, we're going to open a second location before the year's up."

"That's great, Kookie!"

Your best friend chuckles at your enthusiasm. "We're excited. Feels like a step in the right direction. Growth, y'know?"

"What about personal life?" you inquire. "Don't think you're getting out of that one either. You broke up with your girlfriend before the holidays. Interested in anyone else lately?"

"Actually...there is someone," Jungkook admits. He reaches for another bite of Hwajeon and offers you a second piece. "I'm not sure they see me the same way as I see them, though."

"How do you know?"

He shrugs again. "A feeling. I realized how I felt about them last fall, which is why I broke up with my ex. We weren't in love, and we both knew that."

"All this while I was gone?" you ask, feeling a sense of dread wash over you. Maybe he was lying before when he said he hadn't met anyone new in the time you were gone. From the way he's talking now, it sounds like he's interested in someone else.

"Yeah. It's been building for a while, I think, but it only hit me right before the holidays."

Popping the cap off the second bottle of soju, you take a long swig before adding, "Sounds like you got it bad, Bunny. Why haven't you said anything to them?"

"Scared of messing up?" he replies, answering it more like a question than a statement, as if he's unsure himself. "Scared of what they'd do. Scared of ruining our relationship now. Scared that it'll end up being one-sided." The brunet finishes his bottle and places it on the table. "I was lucky with my ex; both of us realized that we weren't right for the other. What if, this time, I let myself fall, only to have the rug ripped out from under me?"

If you're honest, hearing his concerns about the person he's falling for gives you a plethora of mixed feelings. Half of you desperately wants to believe he's talking about you. The other half is terrified that he's thinking of someone else. His words could lend themselves either way. You've only ever been best friends. And you realize how long it took you to finally realize your true feelings. You doubt that he's come to the same conclusion, at the same time.

No one is that lucky.

Even as your chest aches, the wish for him to be happy—no matter what—forces you to put your own emotions aside. "Do you trust this person?"

"Yes."

"Okay. And do they trust you?"

"I think so. I hope so."

You offer your companion a second bottle, which he gladly takes. "Do you think you could truly be happy if you kept your feelings to yourself? If you never told them?"

"Probably not," he sighs, forcing a smile. "I don't see this feeling going away anytime soon."

"Then, in my humble opinion, you gotta tell them. Even if it's scary, even if it ends up being awkward, even if you feel like it might be one-sided. You're not going to rest easy until it's out in the open." Your blatant hypocrisy is not lost on you, even as you speak. "If you really feel this way about this person, I don't think there's another option."

"And if they reject me?"

"'Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all'?"

Taglist — @kooala​

Demon!Kyōjurō [x F!S/O] Saying Goodbye to His Daughter: Change (Angst, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Basically, Kyō got turned into a demon during the Infinite Train Mission and had been MIA for a few months. Part 2 of “Going Away”. Read Part 1 here.

***

Warnings: Angst, Sad Kyō, Implications of Character Death

For the longest time, ever since he had gained consciousness, Kyōjurō had felt a vast emptiness inside him that he couldn’t fill; nor could he bury so deep inside into his conscious to forget about it. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that kept urging him to look for whatever he was missing, he had no idea where to even start searching.

And so, that was how he found himself wandering aimlessly; going with the feeling in his gut, and leaving everything to chance— after all, he had an eternity to look for whatever it was.

He only fed when absolutely necessary, as he still couldn’t get over the guilt he felt at preying on such innocent people. They hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve the fate he had bestowed upon them, but it was necessary to retain his strength.

Because the more that he dwelled on that heavy feeling that weighed him down, the more that it sapped his strength away from him. It also didn’t help at all that all that he had to guide him were two measly coins, that he had found tightly clasped in his right hand when he woke up.

Those coins were the only things that tied him to whoever he was before he woke up in that shabby, run-down hut. And he would be damned if he kept on turning a blind eye to the fact that the person he was at that moment... really wasn’t who he was meant to be.

With those thoughts firmly embedded in his mind, Kyōjurō hitched his black haori higher up on his shoulders, then brushed off the dark red and black yukata that he had woken up in, and resumed his trek to where... he didn’t know.

At that point, he was solely relying on his feet to get him where he needed to be.

But the more that he walked, the more familiar some sights seemed to him; as if he had been there before— numerous times, in fact.

And the closer that he got to a small village called Komazawa, the heavier that his heart became. With every building that passed, the more that he couldn’t deny how familiar all of it felt to him.

Even in the darkness of the night, he could still see everything clearly; he automatically knew whose houses were whose, as well as the history of those houses, but what struck him the most were of his foggy memories.

Blurry visions of him walking the very same roads, with his hand clasping a much smaller and daintier hand than his. He could also remember the feeling of happiness that coursed through him in those moments; the sheer joy that enveloped him during those times were incomparable to anything else he’d ever felt.

It was almost tantamount to the sadness and longing that hit him— especially when he smelled such a faintly familiar scent.

Sunshine and sunflowers.

The overwhelming smell hit him square in the chest and, before he knew it, his feet had already brought him towards a house that he knew lived in his memories.

And, without really thinking about it, he had already walked through the open gates— like it was the most natural thing in the world; as if he actually belonged there.

His eyes took in the impeccable state that the house was in; the sunflowers that lined the wall to his right, and the hydrangea bushes that framed the walkway on his left. In the back of his mind, he saw himself hard at work with those plants— wiping the sweat off his brow, before looking up and seeing a face that made his chest tighten, and his heart leap in joy.

And when she smiled right at him, it felt like a punch to the gut— as it had knocked the breath out of him, what with how even more beautiful it made her.

He frowned in confusion, because the memory was much more vivid than all of the other ones that had played before it. What threw him even further through a loop was the fact that it had come unbidden. He had made no effort to get the memory from the recesses of his mind; it had just showed itself.

As if merely being in that strange yet familiar house had unlocked a huge part of his subconscious.

Kyōjurō had been so deep in his own memories, trying to make sense of the things that his mind was showing him, when the quiet sound of small, sandal-clad feet hitting the stone walkway sounded behind him.

“Tou-chan?” The little girl whispered— completely in disbelief— as she rubbed her eyes with her tiny fists; as if doing so would help reassure her that the man in front of her really was the real deal, and not a figment of her imagination.

And without any hesitations, Ran had launched herself at her father— the very same person whom she had always, secretly been waiting for.

After all, it was the reason why she always volunteered to be the one to close the gates at night; so she could check if he had just been late at coming home— even though everyone told her that he never would.

She, out of everyone in their home, still believed that her father was going to make good on his promise to return home.

And he did. Just not in the same state that he had left in; but that wasn’t important to her.

“You said five sleeps!” The little girl practically screeched, as she hugged her father’s waist— making an effort to keep charging at him to knock him down to the ground; like she used to do to him when she was mad. “It wasn’t five sleeps!”

However, Kyōjurō didn’t budge from where he was; not even pretending to be fazed as he tried to make sense of all the things that were coming at him in his subconscious. It was making his head hurt, but the more that he looked at the fiery-haired girl clinging to him, the more that he remembered.

And the more that he realized that the thing he had been missing hadn’t been a thing at all; it had been his family all along.

With a shaky, clawed hand, he carefully cupped the back of his daughter’s head— right before kneeling down in front of her to hold her in his arms.

He held her so tightly to make up for all the moments he had missed; the nights when he was supposed to tuck her into bed, the mornings where he was supposed to send her to school, and those odd days when he had planned on taking her to her ballroom lessons— if only to learn more about what his daughter liked.

Before long, he found himself crying silently, pressing chaste kisses to the side of Ran’s head as often as he could; because with every kiss, the pain he felt in his chest lessened by the tiniest amount.

And, even though it was supposed to be the other way around, Ran kept on patting Kyōjurō’s back as best as she could with her small hands.

“I’m so sorry, Ran. I’m so sorry,” He whispered over and over, while the young girl held him tighter— like how he would comfort her when she cried to him about something.

“It’s okay, tou-chan. You were only late by a lot of sleeps,” Ran answered as chirpily as she could, before pulling away from her father and moving to squeeze his face between her pudgy hands. “You made kaa-chan cry a lot, so you should say sorry to her.”

In the most ungraceful manner ever, Ran wiped her father’s tears away; blatantly running her hands over the tear tracks that marred his cheeks, and erasing the physical evidence of his sadness. The action made Kyōjurō smile slightly, as he was happy that his little girl was growing up to be such a soft and caring person.

“You even have a tattoo now. Kaa-chan’s gonna get mad,” The little girl said, by way of acknowledging the dark crimson flame marks that framed the left side of his face.

Despite her warning though, Ran still had a warm smile on her face; one that had Kyōjurō’s chest tightening painfully, as he lifted a hand up and touched his daughter’s cheek— being very careful not to cut her with his claws.

The very same claws that he used to hurt others.

He’d never felt so filthy in his life; but, just as he was about to pull his hand away, Ran gripped his hand tightly in both of hers— all while staring wide-eyed at his orange-tipped claws.

“Tou-chan,” She breathed out, eyes never flickering away from his extremely sharp claws. “I want to paint your nails. Kaa-chan just got me blue polish ten sleeps ago, and it’s so pretty. Your nails will look so pretty. Please, tou-chan?”

How she had the lung capacity to say all of that in one breath, he would never know— but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he was proud that his daughter got his lung capacity.

A lopsided smile made its way onto Kyōjurō’s lips, as he cupped his daughter’s right cheek— savoring the feel of her warm skin, because he knew... it was the last time that he was ever going to see her.

With the return of his memories also came the realization that he had become what he had sworn his life to eradicate. He had turned into the very monsters that he promised to protect the weak from; and that weighed heavily on his conscience.

As much as he wanted to pick up where his life had left off with his family— he knew that that wasn’t possible; not with how much pain and suffering he had already caused others. Not to mention the fact that he had broken his oath by merely lifting a hand to a human.

There was only one way to atone for his sins, and living happily with his family wasn’t it.

Of course he longed to hold all of his children, and even kiss his wife— to have her be the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night once more, but that was nothing more than a pipe dream at that point.

It hurt him so much to subject Ran to losing him twice, but what was done had already been done— he couldn’t change the past anymore. He just hoped that, when she got older, she would find it in herself to forgive him for hurting her so much.

With those hopes floating around in his mind, he pulled his right hand away from her and reached into his pocket to pull out the coins that he had held on to as he took the last of his mortal breath; the very coins that she had given him so he could buy a bento all those months ago.

Gently, he took one of her hands and laid the worn out change in her tiny palm. “I brought you back your change.”

He could feel tears starting to pool in his eyes once more, but he held them back for his daughter’s sake. For her, he needed to be strong; even if he felt like his heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces in his chest.

“Save it for a rainy day, okay? And if you buy anything with it, remember to share it with your brothers, and your Kaa-chan too.” Kyōjurō barely held in the urge to start sobbing, because the confused expression on his little girl’s face was enough to make him feel like his already-broken heart was getting pulled out of his chest— what with how painful it felt at that moment.

“Always remember to eat well, and to never skip any meals,” He took a shaky intake of breath at that, and held it in as he desperately pushed back the urge to start sobbing profusely. “If you have any problems, you can always tell your Kaa-chan about it. You’re a big girl now, so you can do big girl things; especially at school. Always remember that tou-chan believes in you, okay? Even if everyone says otherwise, I know that you will always grow up to be the perfect little lady; because you’re my baby girl.”

Silence blanketed over the father-daughter duo as, slowly, Kyōjurō got up to his feet and gingerly led his daughter over towards the sunflowers that stood proudly right by the gates.

With well-practiced motions— as if her were merely picking them to surprise his wife before she woke up— he picked three of the biggest sunflowers among the selection. And, wordlessly, he untied the tie that held his hair back, and used that to twine all three stems together in a makeshift bouquet.

“Your Kaa-chan’s favorite flowers are sunflowers, okay? During her birthday, or whenever you want to make her smile, always give her sunflowers— and always, always remind her that she, and all of you, will always be the best things that have ever happened to me.”

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark  /  remove it with the kiss of a knife  /  even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

Hazbin Hotel: Perma Frost Full Bio

General

“It’s BULLSHIT that I’m down here! Stuck in this ugly ass form! I did the shit I did to SURVIVE! No one has ever watched out for me! So I watched out for myself the best way I knew how!”

- Perma Frost to Charlie

Full/True name: Petra  

Nickname(s) or Alias:  

Perma Frost, Perma

Perm

 The Killer Frost Demon

Kid (By Husk)

Ice Queen (By Angel)

Little Girlie (Niffty)

Young Miss (By Alastor)

Bruja de hielo (By Vaggie)

Gender: Female

Species: Human (formerly), Ice Demon

Age: 14

Birthday: Jan 6th 

Sexuality:   Autochorisexual-Aegoromantic

Nationality: Icelandic

City or town of birth: Vik, Iceland

Currently lives: The Outskirts of Pentagram City

Native language: Icelandic  

Relationship Status: Single  

Appearance  

Height: 5'5   

Figure/build: Slender, somewhat curvy build, with long, dark blue icicle-like fingers. Powder blue skin

Hair color: Light Blue (Normally),   Transparent light blue (when angered or frightened)

Hairstyle: Long and unruly  

Eye color: A glowing icy blue hue that shifts

Tattoos: A snowflake on her back    

Preferred style of clothing: ALWAYS wearing a large hooded jacket/coat that covers the entire top half of her body. Large black snow boats. And navy blue tights

General Past life  

Human Name: Petra (She renounced her last name)

Birthday: 6th Jan 2005

Age of Death: 14

Cause of Death: Froze to death/Blood loss

Death day: 23 Aug 2019

Personality 

Perma is an intense, cautious, volatile, and resentful teenager. She’ll do whatever it takes just to make it through the day regardless of who she has to harm or fight. She loathes adults and doesn’t trust them or their judgement, and always believes they're going to hurt her. Nor does she like being told what to do. So she often gets into a lot of fights with older demons, Perma will at times rush head first into a fight without thinking things through due to being blinded by her violent nature and past trauma. She has little to no friends or acquaintances because of the sheer brute force of her powers, somewhat lack of control and unwillingness to listen to people. Despite being unapproachable most of the time, deep down Perma wants a kind soul to turn to for love and guidance. But, pushes away this feeling due to the bad hand life and death has handed her. 

 History  

Born in Vik, Iceland in 2005, since she could walk; Petra knew nothing but misery and neglect. Abused and mistreated by her egg and sperm donor, growing up in a strange cult certainly didn't help little Petra. Forced to deal with going hungry and cold from the old shredded clothes she was forced to wear. As well as participating in her mother's questionable practices. Her family often took part in the ancient art of Icelandic witchcraft. Writing questionable symbols everywhere in the blood of animals they caught. Reading from old books with disturbing otherworldly images. Even carving up their own bodies as a sign of devotion to some strange dark entity. Petra didn't understand these events but knew only bad things could come from it.

Life didn’t get much better for the young Icelandic when she was set up to be a sacrifice in one of the cult's shamanic ceremonies, she managed to slip away and ran until she arrived at an old rundown village. Only 9 years old at the time. From there, the next 4 years were awful. Petra had to survive on scraps she found in the trash or steal food and clothing from unsuspecting villagers. Years on the street, being treated like dirt from those around her, a child no one wanted around, caused Petra to grow hateful to world and the vile people who inhabited it. No one had any concern for her. No one cared about her. Her life meant nothing to ANYBODY. So after that, the lives of others didn’t mean a damn thing to her.

At 11, Petra committed her first murder. She was low on scraps and slowly starving. Following a frail elderly woman with a bag full of food, Petra took out an ice pick she had swiped from some workers and drove it into the back of the woman’s head. 

Soon after, the dreaded streets Petra wandered were now becoming littered with the bodies of the people she stole from. Little did she realize, these malicious acts were changing in ways that were beyond human understanding. Something malevolent and cold started growing inside her body. Warping her soul.

Two years, this continued...until Petra chose the wrong target. A lanky young man, who looked a few years older than her, was smoking in an alley. Driven by survival, bloodlust and greed to what type of goods the man had on his person, Petra struck with her signature ice pick. Too bad, the man wasn’t unarmed. Nor was he alone. That’s all she remembered from that specific day. And how she wished she just kept walking.

The man was part of a group of sex traffickers looking around for young girls and women to add to their market. And 14 year old Petra was added to that collection.

The following year was a new level of Hell for the young girl. Beaten, abused, used in the most vile of ways by these men and others. Petra resisted at each turn but the suffering increased more and more. Then the vile concoction, meth they called it, they forced her to take each day. Told her that it would make her more “enjoyable company”. Some days and nights blurred into each other. This...drug made her forget the pain, the misery, the horrid existence she was subjected to. But reality came back full throttle to punch her in the face once it wore off. It made Petra feel disgusting and free at the same time. Just like the girls around her, empty shells with blissful smiles on their faces.

  She was right at the edge of just ending it, but the stubborn part of her refuse to give her tormentors the satisfaction. One night, while she was getting prepared for a client, Petra managed to break away and shank one of the guards with an icicle she snatched from outside of a window. That kill was easy, but the second guard managed to let out a shout before Petra rammed the spike into his eye.

Petra rushed out into the winter forest, away from the building she was held captive. Wearing nothing but a pair of booty shorts and a flimsy tank top and armed with a bloody icicle. The traffickers hot on her trail with guns and rope. Each day of hiding, running, and avoiding bullets was made worse with trying to fight the freezing cold. One bullet managed to pierce her side. On that night, Petra finally found a small cave to duck into, her feet and hands black and swollen. She was practically a light blue.

Using the last of her strength to make a small, pitiful fire, Petra packed her bullet wound with snow as a sad attempt to stop the bleeding. She leaned against the cave wall and closed her eyes. Thinking back to all the events that transpired that lead her to this. The memories slowly getting darker and darker...

She woke up abruptly from crashing down onto the ground. The teen shot up, disoriented and looked around. Her eyes fell onto a large sign reading, “Welcome to Hell.”

Sins committed to get into hell: Theft, Murder, Assault, Manslaughter, Prostitution (Not her choice)

Any regrets in what they have done: No...depends 

Likes:  

Doing whatever she wants

Warm food

Parkour

Heavy metal music

Necessary Violence

Beating up adults

Animals

Children

Being left alone

Dislikes:  

Adults

Being touched

Limited freedom

Being told what to do

Guns

Silence

Drugs

Anything sex related

Short clothing

Frozen Food

Fears/phobias:  

Men touching her/being near her

Being tied up

The sight of her own blood

Dark rooms

Cults

Sexual acts of any kind

Being drugged

Favorite color: 

White 

Hobbies:  

Ice/snow surfing

Brawling/Street Fighting

Reading scary stories

Parkouring

Stealing

Talents/skills:

Great at the drums

Ice skating (lol)

Parkouring

Intimidation

Fighting

Very Observant/ Quick Learner

Favorite food(s):  

Skyr (Yougurt)

Harðfiskur (dried fish)

Reykjavik's Hot Dog

Favorite drink(s):  

Slushies

Pineapple Soda

Hot Chocolate

Significant/special belongings:  

Her icepick

Spiked choker

Combat  

Fighting skills/techniques:  

Very good street fighter/brawler

Excellent stabbing and hacking skills

Weapon of choice (if any):  

Ice Pick

Unique Abilities:

Cold Magic- is able to perform a form of magic that allows them to utilize cold, either magically manipulating it

Cryokinesis- can create, shape, move, control, interact and manipulate ice.

Cold manipulation- can create, shape and manipulate cold by reducing the kinetic energy of atoms and thus making things colder

Atmospheric Freezing- an freeze the air/atmosphere itself regardless of air quality, abundant and trace gases, air temperature, etc., allowing her to either convert that air/atmosphere directly to ice or simply super chill it.

Absolute Freezing- can freeze anything, from tangible targets to intangible energy such as fire, or concepts such as time, even a person's mind.

Cold Embodiment- acts as the personification or manifestation of cold in their reality and has limitless control over coldness and can use coldness in different ways.

Cold Breath- able to generate and manipulate cold energy within her in a way that allows her to shape the exhaling of the effect.

Cold Presence- has the ability to project a field that lowers the temperature around her, creating a constant chill.

Cold Weaponry- create or wield weaponry with power over cold, which grants Perma a wide variety of cold-based abilities, including slowing down molecules, freezing a target solid, and limiting healing.

Cryo-Phasing- combines intangibility and ice powers to freeze the objects she passes through.

Cryogenic Bodily Fluids- possesses freezing cold bodily fluids (blood, sweat, saliva, etc.

Cryokinetic Creature Creation- is able to create beings of ice or shape existing ice into wanted shapes and purposes. She can grant the beings varying levels of independence (controlled, automatons/programmed, semi-independent) and existence (momentary to permanent) and delete the creature once she is done with them.

Cryokinetic Claws- can project and retract razor-sharp claws of ice from her fingertips for offensive purposes.

Cryokinetic Combat- able to utilize ice manipulation with her physical combat, allowing her to both create tools and weapons for attack and manipulate the environment for her advantage

Cryokinetic Cloning- can create clones of herself, others and/or objects by using ice.

Cryokinetic Surfing- controls the ice in a way that increases her ability to move and/or maneuver either by granting her abilities she otherwise lack or allowing them to ignore normally needed equipment.

Cryokinetic Regeneration- can use ice to regenerate her bodies with the amount of ice used defining the speed of healing.

Demonic Ice Manipulation- One of her most powerful attacks. She can generate and manipulate mystical demonic ice, which cannot be melted by mortal means, drawn straight from the darkest fears sentient minds have about winter, ice and arctic areas, including the fears of treacherous ice breaking, burying/devouring, damaging or tripping the victim in malicious awareness.

Demonic Ice Breath - able to generate and manipulate demonic ice within her in a way that allows her to shape the exhaling of the effect. These shapes can include bursts, streams, spheres, even a mist of it from the mouth.

Dark Ice Manipulation - More powerful attack. She can create, shape and manipulate the ice of a darker, detrimental nature; that which damages, destroys, and consumes anything/everything she comes across, representing the hazardous destructive side of ice, which in turn ignores most of the limitations and weaknesses of the normal ice. In essence, this is about solely controlling the negative dark powers of ice.

Frostbite- can freeze up any part of an enemy's body where she can turn the tissues and flesh into solid ice making the victim shatter into pieces due to freeze drying, or cause a swelling making it hard to move for the victim.

Frozen Surface- can cause surfaces (often floor) to emit ice/cold, causing ice/cold-damage on anything in contact with her or the ice.

Hail Generation- can generate and project hail.

Ice Aura- can release and surround herself in/with ice/cold for defensive and/or offensive purposes, possibly becoming almost untouchable and granting her various abilities/attacks.

Ice Vortex Creation - can generate spirals/vortices composed of ice. The vortex can be projected as a long ranged attack or as a tornado of ice for both offensive and/or defensive purposes.

Omnidirectional Ice Waves- can release massive amounts of ice in every direction at once for almost unlimited scales. This power allows Perma to dispatch many foes at once and destroy large areas like cities/villages.

Snow Ball Projection- able to launch spheres of snow at targets with varying degrees of force.

Snow Solidification- can solidify or give solid-like properties to snow-based substances with the level of solidity going from loose jelly to metal-like hardness or beyond. Alternatively, Perma can also harden snow to make it denser and harder to break.

Un-melt able Ice- can generate and project snow/ice that is extremely difficult to or cannot by melted by normal means, such as extreme heat or fire.

Weaknesses in combat:  

Intense heat/fire

No control when pushed too far

Turns to solid ice when she goes overboard

Due to her constant chill, she can’t sneak up on people

Strengths in combat:  

Wide and short range attacks

Nearly indestructible ice walls

Hidden demon form 

Wild unpredictable street fighting style

Can create ice creatures, structures, and weapons

Relationships

Past life Relationships

Parents: Unknown 

Siblings: None  

Other Important Relatives: None  

Children: None 

Best Friend:   None yet

Other Important Friends:  None yet

Acquaintances:  None yet

Pets: None  but wants one

Enemies:  

Anyone who tries to mess with her.

Alastor (Frenemy-ish)

Hazbin Relationships: 

Charlie- Put off by her eagerness and determination to redeem sinners. Didn’t trust her at first and kept her distance. Slowly warmed up to Charlie’s kindness and learned to trust her and others.

Vaggie- Disliked her attitude, and authority. Would tick her off with snide comments and constantly freezing her and/or Charlie. Started to bond over their dislike of Alastor and men a bit. Told Vaggie of her life and hardships, now have a big sis/little sis connection.

Angel Dust- Because of his sexual nature, she was terrified of Angel and avoided him. Even freezing him solid a few times out of fear/self-defense. Calm down a little once, she learned that he’s gay. The two became close once Angel shared his own stories of abuse. Also adores Fat Nuggets.

Alastor- Instantly loathes Alastor due to his disregard for personal space and creeper smile. Sees him as a closet pervert and often talks trash about his radio broadcasts and calls him an "a limp dick old man". Perma was unaware of Alastor's reputation, but sees him as a sicko who likes to inflate his own ego and harrass those he sees as beneath him. One of the few demons who doesn't fear Alastor, but that's due to her own ignorance and inexperience. Often tries to start fights with him by crude derogatory comments. Or freezing him.

Husker- Didn't think much of Husk at first, but liked the fact the he's a cat. The two barely interacted until she sang to herself in German and Husk responded back. They slowly began to converse with each other more and more. Husk actually listening to her woes and offering some advice. Vice versa. Due to Husk keeping to himself and respecting boundaries, Perma respects and listens to Husk more than anyone. Calms down whenever he's around. The two soon form a father/daughter like relationship.

Niffty- Was put off by Niffty's persnickety and energetic persona. Also irritated her by the frost she leaves behind. But they grow to tolerate each other over time.

Trivia 

Sin - Wrath

Can speak 5 languages: Icelandic, German, Polish, English, and Dutch. This is due to the men she came in contact with during her time on the streets and while trafficked

The spiked choker she wears was a gift from one of the older trafficked girls. It was the first time she was given ANYTHING nice.

Speaks with a thick Icelandic accent

Her lips are dark  blue from her cold

Given her sexual abuse, Perma doesn’t just hate sex, she’s TERRIFIED of it.

Perma keeps to herself and talks to no one unless confronted. 

She knows nothing about the Overlords or power scale.

She keeps her distance from friendly people. To her, everyone is out to get something.

Perma loves heavy metal, it helps her release the pain and fury she feels

With enough patience and practice, Perma could fight on par with an overlord

She likes animals, they never harm you

She eats warm food, to feel ‘alive’. 

One negative act towards her, no matter how small, can set her off

Hunter x Reader

A/N: What nobody asked for. I didn’t think a title would be appropriate for this particular piece of work. It really doesn’t coincide with any Star Wars themes, save for everybody’s favorite Sergeant making his debut within. It’s more of a Lil perspective. (Lol I’m sorry my last two brain cells have no sense of humor) For context: I have been absolutely suffocating lately, in every sense of the word. It’s almost indescribably oppressive, so I wrote this in desperately seeking comfort and therapy. Just a fragmented depiction, addresses underlying mental health issues and sensory disorders—in carrying my own subtle semblance of it, I love exploring those complexities with Hunter. It turns out soft. I think. Also, if you squint hard enough, you will see some song lyrics scattered throughout the fic in the form of thoughts. I wrote this in the format of Reader, though it’s practically a self-insert, I’m just not brave enough for those particular pronouns. :) Sorry in advance if this doesn’t apply to you...

▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️

Isn’t anyone trying to find me... Won’t somebody come take me home...

The silence was prodding. Hunter’s gaze darted to your tense form numerous times over the span of several painfully long, anticipating minutes. Each time, your lips remained pulled into a tight line while your extremities fidgeted in repetition. Agitation hung thick in the air. A terse statement of Y/N’s mystics echoed off the walls, to no-one in particular.

“I think... I’ve been gone for a long time.”

Hunter’s eyes incredulously searched you. “What do you mean?”

You see me standing, but I’m dying on the floor...

Your fists reflexively clench in grabbing at any semblance of weight to prevent your form from being dragged down into the mental abyss. You could feel it’s foreboding pull. It’s impending chaos.

It’s coming.

“Talk to me, Y/N...”

Your grip slackens, and you slip right over the edge. Hunter is too late to grab you.

I only want to die alive...

Your broken, unbridled guttural cries in response to the months of overwhelming emotional suppression caused Hunter to wince, and his own sensory receptors gain enough momentum to inwardly complain. He instinctively stuffs it down before kicking into action.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m here—”

Electric. The touch. His touch. It pricked, and the very fine hairs adorning the skin along your arms instantly retaliated to the calloused padding of Hunter’s fingertips caressing. It exacerbated your state of distress and just like that, your neurons overloaded. Sharp, stale air seeped in between your grit teeth and inhalation of insecurity.

Your sudden intake of breath and harsh flinch caused Hunter to cease in brushing up and down the outer region of your upper arms. His eyes narrowed slightly and quickly picked apart your stance. It greeted him like an old adversary with the remnants of a longstanding history, and a discomfiture swirled around Hunter at it’s painful familiarity.

“I can’t do this...” You breathe out despair.

The existing in general? The physical connection itself?

The latter wasn’t your fault. But it sure as hell felt like it. It certainly wasn’t his fault. Thankfully, somehow, the glint in Hunter’s shifting irises reassured you that he was privy to your suffering, to some degree; he knew. He understood.

Of course he did.

For who to better understand heightened tactile sensitivity than Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99? He was neither confounded nor dissuaded by your particularity in the slightest.

It had always been an inherence of yours; a rather obnoxious caricature within the conundrum, some obscure accessory buried in your already heavily packed bags. An extra ingredient that completely screwed up the recipe. Constituted as awkward, plain and simple; the dramatized detail never became easier to address with age, and the thick lump of disdain in your throat only grew.

You set your jaw in frustration. How to even begin picking up and putting together the pieces of a person who’s constantly missing one, or several. You were never satiated, equanimity never extended it’s stay for long; simply just renting. There was always something, someone, leaving a smoking hole in your chest, forcing every euphoric guest out.

I seek to cure what’s deep inside... frightened of this thing that I’ve become...

Your features twisted in agony and discomfort that accompanied the stoked episodes. It made you bitter. It threw you to the streets and dubbed you a martyr before satirically exposing, taunting at the misfortune of your dealt deck of cards. It was downright embarrassing, obtruding. Trepidations instantaneously trampled your meager, sensory overloaded form each and every time. Your bitter, corrosive laugh was all the evidence in that moment; a feeble reminder of your hypocrisy.

Because how, pray tell, does one’s physicality simultaneously experience both a revulsion for tactility and desperate craving for touch itself? You never understood exactly the way the two collided and contradicted themselves. Your teeth clamped your tongue in quelling the deprivation and plea for more rising in your throat, while your neurons worked to whisk your form as far away from the man as possible—away to the repetition of obsolete emptiness and desolation awaiting to greet you. As always.

“Let me help, cyare.” Begging... the man was hurting for you.

Don’t want to say yes, don’t want to say no...

Your mind ached. You can’t stop the pendulum in your head. Forced to look through a kaleidoscope of melancholy. Pleas echoed in a cavernous empty shell, but fell on deaf ears. Tears cancelled their appointment, and the well currently ran dry. There was... nothingness. And you fought the growing complaisance with the notion. Numbness was terrifying, and being terrified was numbing. You didn’t do well with attitudinal changes, seeking restitution more than ever while you wholly acknowledged the aspect of a ginger touch; the literal power within one’s fingertips to effectively mitigate your suffering. An opportune moment standing before you, his brows furrowed in sympathy and the corner of his lips angled in assuring you of his patience.

But the sharp pang and quick successions of staccato rhythm reverberated deep in your chest and only exaggerated your pain. Curse your heavy heart. A huff of breath incited subtle movement in the loose strands hanging over your profile, to which Hunter borrowed a moment in reaching out to sweep the curtain back.

Your head was under water, yet... you were breathing just fine. You just had yet to find the damned drain to expel the pernicious and suffocating sea of psychological terror into.

I just need to clear my head... don’t let it go to your head...

You quiver under Hunter’s intense appraisal, and shame swirls thickly. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. Please.” He immediately interjects, his palm turns upright and opens invitingly. “I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

Just tell him what you need.

“I... I don’t know.” Your admission speaks in a whisper of loss and uncertainty. You roll the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, the lump returns to your throat, and it’s crawling. Your gaze flickers.

“Just focus on me, cyare.”

Another catch: you can’t maintain eye contact to save your life. Kriff your soul. “That won’t work.” Your eyes anchor to the cold floor as sheer panic and the sturdy walls themself began to rise around your trembling self.

I can’t come alive... I want the room to take me under... Feel myself fading away...

“Okay—it’s okay,” he soothes. Hunter fervently wracks his brain—the way he decompresses and approaches his own form of stimming is slightly different; it’s different for everybody with a hyperactive response to stimuli. It took the Sergeant years to cultivate those particular penchants and even longer to tailor and perfect them to his predilection. If anything, he felt slightly apprehensive in the success of his methods.

Your hands that now wrap tightly around your rigid form are currently the only familiar pair of hands granted permission to access the area. You give a brief squeeze and teeter on the balls of your feet.

Hunter didn’t require a sniper’s nonpareil eyesight to see right through your peculiarity, even if he was briefly taken aback at it’s sudden effervescing. Truthfully, he should’ve picked up on it days ago: at your fierce denial and subtle panic over Hunter’s harmless offer of a massage after you had worked out a particularly stubborn knot kinking his lower back—a simple requite of mutuality, or so he thought. At the time, the Sergeant found himself shrouded in enigma over your reaction; seriously, who—other than him who barely tolerates it—doesn’t enjoy massages? It now made perfect sense. He fought the urge to self-deprecate over his ignorance.

“I’m suffocating, Hunter.” You choke, and the cadence of your voice is like a knife twisting into his heart; he gleans vicarious pain from your own.

Clarity suddenly lights up the Sergeant’s features, and you’re briefly hyper-fixated with the way the inky but slightly faded outline of his shadowy tattoo fluctuates in natural contortion with his many facial expressions. Just behind his eyes he beholds his brothers—

‘I’m suffocating, ori’vod’...

Hunter remembers...

Of the exact way he presses against Tech in order to smother his vod’ika’s fleeting bouts of anxiousness—the pressure nearly breaking the kid’s goggles on more than one occasion, and the way he compresses Crosshair’s shoulders in squeezing out the pent up anger to placate amidst the sniper’s wavering, and the position of which Hunter managed to encompass his brawny brother in a comforting embrace whenever the big guy experienced despondency—that is until Wrecker quickly outgrew his ori’vod and began flaunting his own prowess of overpowering hugs.

The difference between the scenarios was minimal. Hunter knew exactly what to do. Like second-nature to him, his nurturing instincts fully kicked in and determination spread through every fiber of his being, quashing the previous buzz of his own nerves.

Hunter didn’t know how well he could alleviate your emotional pain, but there was something he could do for the neurological aspect, and hopefully, one could ease the other...

Hunter ambles up to you and in one swift motion, secures the length of his arms around your upper back, noting the delineate contour of toned muscles and shoulder blades poking into his forearms that now drape across before his hands encircle and come to firmly rest on each shoulder. Firmness. Pressure—for your state, this depiction is key. He determinedly pulls you to him, unrelenting in a tight grip. The position of the crown of your head settled neatly under his chin, and stray hair peppered his textured features with tickling kisses as Hunter dips his head to softly press his lips to your roots.

I wish that I could bring you back to me...

With your face suddenly buried in the man’s chest, you come to distinctly acknowledge two immediate sensations. One; the man is warm. Not the muggy, stuffy warmth of Tatooine that is unpleasantly abrasive and dry; but a soft warmth that permeates, stoking memories of baked goods within the cushion of a heated oven warmly enveloping you each time it’s doors open, and seeking to melt the hardened encasing that is your tense muscles. It eases you towards a serenity. You have a ways to go before you can make out the sign in the distance, but Hunter himself is one step forward along the path.

Two; he smells amazing. A faint smoky sultry, an obscurely mesquite scent, slightly tangy and reminiscent of raw timber that is both luxurious and intoxicating; a sweet smell you’d classify as anything but cloying. Like he bathes with suds of fresh mountain air and luscious forests. It’s soothing, and your mind immediately associates the tangibility with a daydream and mercifully blesses you with the glimpse; of your husband having just entered your cozy homestead from a day of hard but fruitful labor in his intricate works of carpentry within the serene seclusion of temperate countryside enveloping your favorite planet—

Handle with care... say you’ll be there...

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, cyare—is this okay?” Hunter momentarily shifts and the rich baritone of the Sergeant’s voice resounding through his broad chest reels you back while he briefly tenses at your pending answer.

It was okay—your head was still swimming in an infinitely deep ocean of thoughts, but the way his hand slips from it’s position on your shoulder to cradle the back of your head before curling around the soft locks equates to the physical manifestation of a life preserver cast to your drowning form.

Your muffled confirmation and sheepish thanks warmly enveloped Hunter, as did your hands shifting to wrap around his broad frame in reciprocation. His grip tightened, and he patiently waits for you.

Hold.... Hold on... Hold on to me, ‘cause I’m a little unsteady...

Hunter refrains from trailing to stroke further along your back; the sneaking suspicion that the sensation might further tip off your nerves. So he remained stationary, and deciphered the way you seemingly favored a firm, weighted grasp and a grounding touch over ghosting fingertips and light, feathery textures. He could relate to that.

But Hunter couldn’t stop the hum of contentment that escaped his lips at your fingers having absentmindedly wandered up to twirl at his ebony tresses. He, personally, loved your soft, well-placed strokes full of deliberation and meaning, and only you were allowed to grace him with them.

Hunter could feel your heart hammering against the veil of his blacks, and his ears hearkened to the rhythm of your burdened breaths. He shifted his weight and began to gently sway with you, unsure of the words to say.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” your conscience suddenly prods.

A snort fills the air. “Oh, I would’ve figured it out soon enough. I’m kinda smart like that,” Hunter cringes at his corny sense of humor, but he swore the faintest of chortles rumbled beneath him.

He grants a final squeeze to your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive areas along your arms, before pulling back to address your face. Trouble and distress still graced you, and Hunter laced his fingers with your own. He thumbed at the worn flesh encasing your defined knuckles, a relic indicative of steadfast manual labor. You slowly exhaled at the touch; pressure along the palms and backside of your hands was soothing to you. You often wrung them to keep preoccupied when there was no warmth to solidify the muscle, fingertips drummed erratic tempos along your thighs whenever the mood struck, and loud cracking of the stiff joints in transient tics was a regularly becoming thing.

Take me by the hand, take me somewhere new...

Hunter tugged lightly in ushering you to the cot, firmly planting himself on the worn, creaking edge before his gaze met yours in awaiting approval. If he blinked, he would’ve missed the barely perceptible nod of your head in confirmation. Hunter leaned back on his full weight in gesturing you with him, and your form followed suit as you found yourself abruptly layered directly atop the rugged plains of his chest. The quirk of his lips told you he didn’t mind being used as a body pillow. Hunter’s arms suddenly turned up empty to rest above his head.

“I want you to be comfortable. No brushing. Just tell me where to put my hands.” He clarified, and appreciation bubbled in your chest. You contemplated for a moment.

“Just... hold me close.” You began to guide his hands to the exact position. “Please.”

His limbs obeyed by wrapping snugly as a hand found rest at the small of your back, and the other nestled itself slightly higher up the expanse, fingers splayed. Hunter solidified the closed space, and not even a muted ray of light could pass between the two forms.

You found solace within the cage of well-endowed muscle, slowly suppressing your nerves on each side and physically shielding you from the works of mental oppression. But his touch left you hyperaware; from an overtly suffocating insecurity towards every part of your body now lingering against his own, to the precise and tranquil thrum of his heartbeat in contrast with your racing one. Your stimuli sparks again in response to the stress.

“Y/N.” Hunter cuts through your tension, his voice laced with concern—you cannot calm yourself down, and you’re certain your mind absolutely loathes you. “Everything will be alright, I promise—don’t tense up, baby. Relax against me.” You angle your head so that one side of your face plants to his chest; you wish to better hear his sturdy heartbeat. You suddenly remember your own. It’s still beating. Resounding; indicative of purpose. Your breaths; symbolizing life.

Just keep breathing... my air...

“That’s it. Just breathe.” Hunter encourages. He reaches up to press against your temple in stroking at the hairline. Unbound locks cascaded around each other, a mixture of two colors softly tangled on either sides of the furniture. You lost count of your numbered breaths in the midst of solitude when a question unveils from your thoughts.

“How do you do it?” Your words trump the stagnant silence, a desperate inquiry that peaks through the fibers. You tilt your chin to better regard the man.

Confusion tugs at the corner of Hunter’s lips. “Do, what?”

“Anything...” you unload, and there’s a crackle to your voice. “The stress, the sensory... how do you manage? What’s your anchor in this wretched, kriffing life?”

A smile creeps up Hunter’s features, and his deep, reflective pools burn through you. “I’m looking at my anchor. And she helps me manage just fine.”

Your eyes blow protuberant and you manage to stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Honey, you are it.” His satisfied smirk grows wider, digging into his cheeks.

Something twitches at the corners of your lip and pulls into an upward curve; the feeling is tight, foreign. Your cheek muscles are unsure of how to compensate for the expression. You can’t remember the last time a smile has naturally graced your features. Now, it’s genuine. It’s... nice, and the hot rivulets currently streaming down your face are in a unanimous agreement.

Hunter moves to cup your face and thumb below your eyes, and his lips kiss the salt away. You grab hold of his forearms and shut your eyes.

“You want to know how I manage?” He croons in determination, “When my visual is overstimulated, I close my eyes and focus on the features of your face ingrained in my memory. When certain auditory has me weak at the knees, I remember the lull of your voice, comforting. When my nerves are on fire and I want nothing more than to be physically desensitized, it’s your soft touch that acts as a blanket, covering, making it easier for me. You make it better. Me better. Life better.” Hunter finishes his declaration in lovingly swiping at your face once more, expunging your pain. Words make a prompt exit along with it.

Your lips find purchase at the stubble along his jaw, in response. You love being able to fully make out the intricacy of his irises, now that you’re lovingly gazing into them. When you exit your captivated trance—his eyes are beautiful—you vaguely note with a twinge of pride that the encounter was indefinitely your longest standing record for maintaining eye contact. Another gentle smile fills your features. You remove your weight from him.

“Take this off?” You shyly tug at the collar of his blacks, seeking his consent, respectful of his own sensory receptors and their boundaries.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hunter sits to quickly shed the upper article of clothing. He pulls you on top once again, and you are relishing in his bare skin. Your fingers map out a path of their own volition along the various textures and scars dotting the pectoral flesh.

“You never told me what you were thinking about earlier,” Hunter nonchalantly called you out. Your brows furrow in confusion. “There was something different on your face when I first held you. Just a flicker. But you looked... happy. Content, even.” Hunter smirked. “Hope you’re not planning to keep all that happiness to yourself.”

You certainly weren’t planning to. You recalled the picturesque and beckoned it forth... there was your sign of serenity. Just the shape of it, but solid, and clear. Hopeful, and promising, just on the horizon. It made your chest flutter, and ebbed away at the heartache. You realized Hunter’s brow arched in anticipation.

“How would you feel about working in carpentry?” A chuckle. Hunter was thoroughly humored, and surprisal was briefly evident on his features.

“So I can build you and I a house? To fill a bunch of babies with? Gladly.” He chased the daydream alongside you, and it was your turn to borrow the surprise; your mouth hung agape as heat crept through the apples of your cheeks. Hunter’s laugh boomed as a hand fit under your chin to close your parted lips. He wished to use his own to do the trick, but, another time.

“I’m with you.”

Damned Royalty (Chapter 13)

Return to Chapter 12.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Jimin Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 13

You woke up in a pitch-dark room, still covered by the blackness of the night. Your body was sore – an ache between your thighs, your muscles tensed as if you had run a marathon – but the feeling was so satisfying. You remembered immediately where you were – Jimin’s bedroom. You must’ve finally fallen asleep after he made you come for a third time. You rolled over, the silk sheets slippery, fresh and crisp against your skin, but beside you was an empty bed.

You sat upright, pulling the sheets with you to cover your still naked body, squinting through the dark room as your eyes search for him. But he wasn’t there.

You listened carefully in the stillness of the night, for any sign that he was somewhere close. The bathroom perhaps? But you didn’t hear a thing. What happened? Was he upset? Did he leave?

A knot formed in your stomach as you remembered your last conversation.

“Spend the weekend with me,” was what he had asked of you. You remembered the anxiety that bubbled within you as he did. How you instantly wanted to say “yes, of course,” but how somewhere in your gut, you still feared him. Feared your feelings for him.

You remembered how he tried not to show he was hurt when you said you’d think about it – and how he tried not to show how elated he was when you said you’d at least spend the night. How he fucked you afterwards, like his cock and his tongue were trying to convince you otherwise. But now he was gone – and you felt a sense of guilt.

You reached over and clicked on the light on the bedside table and scanned the room again – in case he was somewhere watching you from a darkened corner, but he wasn’t. You pulled yourself out of the bed, wincing from the shots of pain that ran from your core down your legs. You found his shirt, crumpled on the floor at the base of the bed, right where it had been discarded only a few hours ago. You slipped the cotton over your shoulders and fastened a few of its buttons. You then crept across the floor, through the door and out into the darkened hallway.

You could see a warm light beaming into the hall from the far end of it. If you remembered correctly, it must’ve been coming from the living area. As you stepped closer, your ears picked up on a low murmur – he was talking to someone.

“Jimin?” you called out softly, but you didn’t hear an answer. As you stepped closer, it became clear that there was in fact a second voice in the penthouse. A voice you didn’t recognize. You continued your ascent up the hall until they were clear enough for you to pick up words.

“He refuses to talk,” said the strange voice.

“Where is he?” you heard Jimin ask.

“In a container down by the shipyard. Picked him up just an hour ago.”

“Good. Get it out of him. Do whatever it takes.”

“You want him dead or alive?”

“If he doesn’t talk by Monday, I’ll come see him and decide then. I’ll fucking pull the trigger myself.”

You covered your chest with your hand, in a poor attempt to muffle the sound of your beating heart. He was talking about killing someone. Torturing someone. And you knew you weren’t supposed to overhear it.

You should have returned to Jimin’s room. You should have found your clothes – pulled them on you and made your escape from his home – made your escape from him. But something kept pulling you forward, making your feet creep closer to the bloodied conversation. Perhaps your conscience wanted to hear the brutality for itself – create a spark that would convince you that whatever you had been doing this whole time with Park Jimin was wrong. Or, perhaps your heart wanted him to say the right thing, let you believe what you were hearing was nothing but a misunderstanding – let him know what you heard so he could lie to you – tell you otherwise – convince you to stay.

You stepped around the corner and into the light and there he was. In nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly to a rough, tattooed, burly looking stranger in a denim jacket. The stranger saw you immediately, and he glared over Jimin’s shoulder towards you. His gaze frightened you. Jimin saw the exchange and followed the man’s stare, turning to see you standing there in his hall. A look of disappointment washed over his features – he wasn’t happy you had seen what you had seen.

He brought his hand to the man’s back, ushering him away from you and towards the front door. They spoke quietly – quiet enough so that you couldn’t hear as they wrapped up the last of there conversation.

“Call me when it’s done,” Jimin reached for the front door and swung it open. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, getting the message that he was no longer welcome here. With that, he took off towards the elevator and Jimin closed the door behind him. He then turned back to you, dipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, he leaned against the wall and stared you down.

“How much did you hear?”

You looked down at your hands and fiddled your fingers, unsure of how honest to be with him.

“Just a little,” you confessed.

“I told you not to ask questions you didn’t want the answers too. And yet here you are.”

“I’m sorry. I woke up and you weren’t there. I was worried is all.”

He sighed and dropped his head.

“I’m sorry too.”

Not knowing what to say to each other, a long silence filled the room and the space between you.

“I don’t know what we’re doing, Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you and me. What are we doing? What do you hope to happen here?”

He lifted himself from the wall and strode toward the living area, looking down at you with a light smirk as he passed by you on his way, just a little closer than necessary. You followed him into the living area and joined him as he stared out over the city skyline. You watched him, waiting for an answer – unsure about what answer you wanted from him. He turned his head to look you up and down, his face still amused, like he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“You look really fucking sexy in my shirt, you know that?” he finally spoke.

Annoyed, you scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Can you not be serious for a minute?”

“I already know where this conversation is going, Y/N. What do you want me to say, huh? That I’m not a criminal? I am. That I have good reasons for the things that I do? I don’t. That I’m not dangerous?” he turned his body and stepped forward, closing the gap between you – forcing you to look back up to him. His eyes narrowed and you felt a chill trickle down your spine – but this time it wasn’t because you were lusting for him. “I am dangerous, princess. But you knew that already.”

He reached up and gripped your upper arm in his hand, holding you in place - punctuating his words. He held it tight, and you froze beneath his display of strength.

“I’m no good for you either… but you knew that already too. And yet, you’re here. In my place… just waiting until I decide I wanna fuck you again.” You felt your face flush slightly as he called you out. He was right after all. You did know all these things about him, and yet here you were, begging him to give you a reason to stay. “I can’t say the things you want me to say, Y/N. So, why don’t we skip these games of should I or shouldn’t I slum with the mob prince.” He released his grip from your arm and turned back to the window. “This is just sex after all.”

You stared back at him, stunned for a moment as his final words cut through you. At first, you wanted to scream at him. Pound his chest with your fists. Make him take it back. But as quickly as those feelings came, they vanished and were replaced with a sense of calm.

You stepped forward towards him. He turned his face to look down at you – his eyes cold but curious. You reached up with both of your hands and cupped his face, then pulled him downwards. You brought his lips to yours, and you kissed him – long and chaste – trying to remember how it felt so that you wouldn’t forget. When you were satisfied that you could, you pulled away.

“Thank-you. I needed that.” You stepped back from him and he reached for you. But before he could grab tightly on your waist, you pushed his arm away then turned and left.

You canvased his bedroom for your clothes and belongings, being sure there was nothing important that you left behind. Leave you no reason to return to this place. Jimin entered the room just as you were busy straightening out your dress.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’ll be fine. I can get myself there safely.”

He watched you closely from the bedroom door as you sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on your heels.

“Have I offended you?”

“No, Jimin.”

“Then why are you leaving.”

“Because. I realized something.”

“And what was that?”

“That… I don’t want just sex. I thought maybe I did. Actually, I don’t know what I thought. But I know now.”

“So, that’s it. One night debasing yourself with me, and now you can go back to your perfect, pretty little life.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then tell me what it’s about.”

You stood up from the bed and took one more glance around the room. You were set - save for the soiled bed sheet, you had erased every trace of you ever being there. You then walked over to Jimin and stood tall and confident before him.

“I don’t want to slum with a mob prince, Jimin. I want to hold hands with a King. I want a partner. Great sex. Great marriage. Great career. For a second – for some crazy moment in my mind, I thought that maybe one day you could be that person for me. But I see now – I’ll never be anything more to you than a skirt chase and a good fuck.”

You ducked around him and strode along the hall. He followed you once again - a déjà vu from the first time you visited this place.

“Y/N,” he called after you.

“It’s fine, Jimin,” you called back to him as you reached the door. “It was just sex after all. No big deal.”

 

You gave yourself a day to mourn Jimin – then you scolded yourself for needing to even take a day. Who was he to you, really? You hardly knew him, yet you climb into his bed and let him get under your skin. But you resolved to get over it, get over whatever it was that had drawn you to him and so you returned to work on Monday feeling ready to conquer the world. No Jinhyun. No Jimin. Only yourself to worry about – it felt great.

That is until you sauntered into your office and found, yet another, embarrassingly large bouquet of red roses sitting tall on your desk. You pursed your lips and sigh at the sight – annoyed by their mere presence.

You walked over and checked the card to be sure they weren’t from someone else. Call Me, was all the card said.

“Trudy,” you called out to your assistant. She jumped up from her desk and entered your office.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Could you get rid of these please?” you nodded towards the flowers.

“Yes, of course. Ummm… how do you want me to get rid of them?”

“I don’t care, Trudy – throw them out. Burn them. Keep them for yourself. Just get them out of my office.”

“Yes ma’am,” she took the vase in he hands and scurried away with the bouquet.

 

Of course, you didn’t call him. You worked all day and that night you went out to dinner with your parents, came home and went to sleep. You walked into the office the next morning feeling well-rested and ready to have another successful morning. Once again, however, you walked into your office and found a new item decorating your desk. This time, it was a smaller velvet box. You set down your things and picked it up in your hands, inspecting it for what might be inside. You popped open the lid and your eyes instantly met the gleaming luxury that was inside. He had sent you a diamond and sapphire tennis bracelet. It was stunning – you couldn’t deny the man had good taste. In the lid you found another card. This one read Please. You laughed lightly to yourself, but replaced the card inside the box and called to your assistant again.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Could you please have this returned to the sender today, please?”

You didn’t call him that night either. Instead, you went out for drinks with a friend from college. You got home a little later than you would have liked, but you had had such a fun time.

 

Wednesday arrived, and you entered your office cautiously, as if it was possibly boobytrapped. Your eyes landed immediately onto your desk, where, once again, something waited for you. This time, it was in a much larger box. It was white wrapped with a cream coloured ribbon. You pulled at the bow and lifted the top. Inside you found a designer bag. Well, not just a designer bag… the Birkin of the season. It was so exclusive, so sought after that even if you managed to get on the wait list at all, you were still at least eight months from receiving it.

“Dammit, he’s good,” you said out loud as you ran your fingers and drooled over the leather. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you called Trudy back into your office again.

 

That’s how the rest of the week and the following week went. Each morning you’d walk into your office to find some new luxury item spread across your desk – Louboutin pumps, Bvlgari earrings, Versace scarfs – and in a bold statement, Bordelle lingerie. And each day you’d send the packages back to him. That was until the day you walked in and found two workers on ladders hanging a piece of artwork over your wall. After you tried to scold them, you gave up and let them finish – realizing it wasn’t there fault – they were only sent here to do a job. When they pulled the covering off, you recognized the piece immediately.

“Zunuzin,” you whispered out loud.

“How did you know that?” Trudy startled you and she snuck up beside you to admire the piece. You shrugged her question off – you didn’t want to give her the reason why.

“It’s a Zunuzin,” said Jimin, noticing how you stopped to admire the massive painting that hung outside the kitchen. “He’s a Russian painter.”

“It’s beautiful. I really love it.”

“It’s my favourite. It wasn’t easy, but I finally got my hands on it.”

He’d given it to you.

“How are we going to send this one back?” Trudy mockingly asked.

“Oh! I don’t know,” you whined as you buried your face in your hands.

“You know how we could get this to stop?”

“How?”

“You could just call him,” she handed you a card which had obviously been sent along with the painting. You opened the card up and read today’s message. Just like the others, it was short and to the point.

I’m sorry. Please. - Jimin

Forever With You

Sam Giddings (Until Dawn) x Emo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Death, Mourning, Swearing, Slight Gore

Genre: Angst

Summary: Living with knowing that your life was basically given back to you from near-death thanks to the demise of a loved one is the closest feeling to death with your heart still beating. Sam now knows that. The whole group knows that. Good thing friends stick together even after death. 

Requested by my lovely Until Dawn Anon. Hi babyy! I hope you enjoy the read and I sure as hell hope this isn’t the last request of yours I’ll be writing. We’re business partners at this point LOL. Love you ❤❤❤

QUICK NOTE - Some elements of this fic, by request of Until Dawn Anon, have been inspired by a certain drama series. I’m not gonna name it to avoid spoilers for both the show and this fic, but whoever’s watched the show will recognize which show is being referenced.

Sam’s POV

“You’d make a mean hunter!“ Chris comments as Y/N lowers the shotgun after shooting her mark for the fifth time. 

“Nah, I’d never hurt animals.“ She gives him a sincere smile, “But I appreciate you thinking I have the proper skillset.“

We’re waiting for the world’s slowest cable car to make its way to our station, aka the lower station so we can meet up with the rest of our group, assuming that any of them are already there. 

When I arrived at the station Chris, Ashley and Y/N were already there. They were sitting on the benches outside the station, waiting for me. I was actually supposed to take the same bus as them but something came up right as I was about to head to the bus station, forcing me to take the bus an hour after theirs.

“Sam, I will never forgive you for this, I swear!“ Y/N says, standing up from the bench and heading in my direction, “You let me thirdwheel alone! I mean, I could only survive watching these two beat around the bush for so long!“ She lowered her voice when she said that, giving the couple us two and Josh call Chrashley a quick glance over the shoulder.

I took her hands in mine almost instinctively, “Aw, I’m sorry. But look on the bright side: the love radiating off them is so strong it kept you warm as well!” It was true, her usually freezing hands were not so frozen. Still colder than a person’s should be, but not yet to the point of provoking concern.

She smirked, rolling her eyes, “You know I’d rather freeze to death than have love keep me warm.” She spat the word ‘love’ as though it was poisonously bitter in her mouth. Luckily, before I could say anything more, Chris dragged us to the makeshift shooting range he had found at the side of the snow covered clearing.

It didn’t take long for him and Y/N to start getting competitive with one another, like the not-blood-related siblings they are, so now Ash and I are observing their little competition of who can hit the most marks with the smallest amount of prep time. It’s obvious Y/N the one winning, but Chris isn’t the quitter type so while she is shooting even the smallest of pebbles in the snow we point out to her, he’s still aiming for the hanging sacks of sand and the glass bottles.

With the two of them being so immersed in their ‘competition’, Ashley and I are chatting while remaining a safe distance away from the shooting pair - Chris especially. Y/N has at least slight experience in the field. Being at the distance that we are, we are also out of earshot for them. So, both Ash and I bring up the obvious topic that never remains unspoken - RELATIONSHIPS.

“You and Y/N have been really close as of late. Finally making things official?“ Ash nudges the conversation first as she adjusts the beanie she’s wearing.

I sigh, a white cloud created from that breath of something between disappointment and dread, “We’re not even unofficial. We’re just friends.“ I take the opportunity to take a teasing stab at her, “I’m not luck enough to have my...“ I make quotation marks with my fingers, “’crush’ feel the same way about me. Unlike you.“ I smirk at her, noticing the color of red appearing on her cheeks despite the cold breeze that’s caressing every inch of exposed skin, making it worryingly pale.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Sam. For both of those statements.“ She says diplomatically, scanning the shooting duo with a quick once-over. “She isn’t as reserved when she’s with you. I know you don’t notice, but everyone else does. She’s different, warmer even, with you.“ I expect her to go on, explaining her situation with Chris, but she doesn’t.

As much as I’d like to get her to go on and spill a little of what she feels about Chris, even though everyone and their grandmothers already know, I can’t help but let my mind go down the rabbit hole of ‘what if’s. I’m not oblivious nor blind, I can see the way her demeanor changes around me in comparison to, let’s say, when she’s around Mike. However, she’s ‘warmer’ with Josh, Chris, Matt and Ash as well. It’s called friendliness. It’s no secret that she’s never been too fond of Emily or Jess or Mike. The friendliness of a person can so easily be taken out of context when someone’s crushing on them.

And Y/N’s friendliness especially. This girl hates romance. Absolutely hates it. The word ‘love’ itself gets her annoyed and bothered to the point of discomfort sometimes. I have never tried to probe and try to figure out why. I say I haven’t cause I respect her privacy, but truth be told I am scared. I want to believe there is a small part of her that still wants to experience a romantic relationship, a love connection, and I’m afraid that prodding the subject would shatter all the hopes I have.

How did I end up falling for this dark, broody, Catwoman like emo girl? - I have no idea. It was only natural if you ask me. I think I’m not the only one who’s so whipped by her, but I could never be sure. I mean, how could someone NOT fall for this raven badass: black hair, eyes just a shade lighter than black, tattoos - perfect combination of beauty and brains. And balls, she’s probably the boldest person I’ve ever known or will ever meet. What really caught my attention when I first laid eyes on her was the way she shined. Literally. I don’t mean that as a cheesy metaphor - the girl is always covered in jewelry that reflects the sunlight perfectly. She mesmerized me from day one. She made me a big hypocrite - I was always the one to tell Chris and Ash to make a move, to confess their feelings, and now here I am, in their shoes as though they have cursed me.

“Hey, eagle eyes! Our ride’s here.“ Ash announces, handing Chris his backpack as they fall in step, walking side by side around the station.

Y/N falls in step with me, elbowing my ribs gently, “Slow down, let’s give them some privacy.” She slows her pace to a frustratingly slow walk and I oblige, “I don’t usually say things like this, but they are really cute.”

We’d be really cute

Wait, where did that thought come from?!

“Yeah, I know.“ I say through the fog of confusion that has taken over my brain. “They sure are.“ I clear my throat, trying to hide the fact that my own mind just shocked me. Damn, what is happening to me? What is this crush doing to me? It’s exhausting and terrifying but....I don’t want it to stop.

                                                              *  *  *

“It’s ok, baby. You’re ok.“ Y/N’s voice echoes in the eeriness of the mines.

How did this night make a swerve for the worst so suddenly. All of it, all the horrors just piled up so suddenly. We’re fearful of our own shadows at this point. We are terrified of each other as well. We’re all in a fragile and vulnerable state, with out sanity hanging by a thread. We are all slowly losing ourselves more and more, the events of the past few hours and the hours to come dragging us in the depth of this seemingly endless void of terror.

And then there’s Y/N. Mike, her and I have just found Josh who was having some sort of hallucination-riddled breakdown in the mines. While Mike and I stood aside, contemplating our next move, Y/N didn’t waste any time hesitating. She ran right to his aid and literally pulled him out of his horrific delusions, wrapping her arms around him tightly, murmuring words of comfort as he cried on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I should’ve done something...I should’ve saved them.. I shouldn’t have done this to you guys.“ Josh’s sobs tear my heart to pieces. Seeing him like this is like watching a disaster happen right in front of me, but I’m incapable of doing anything to prevent it or aid help the people affected by it. I’m helpless, I can just stand aside and watch. Watch as he falls apart and Y/N desperately trying to keep him together as if she’s strong enough to carry such duty on her shoulders.

“It’ll all be over soon, it’ll all be ok. Hannah and Beth know it wasn’t your fault, Josh. We forgive you too. Please, don’t do this, at least not now.“ Just as she says those word, an inhuman screech comes from somewhere in the distance behind us, accompanied by another shortly after which came from right up-front. 

Good thing we don’t have to head in either of those directions, not that we’re safe no matter which path we take. We’re walking through thigh deep water which could be hiding anything below the surface yet we wouldn’t know because it looks more like ink than water. We’re not the most discreet nor quiet as we move forward, taken that we are doing our best to push through with letting out as little curse words and sneers due to the inability to feel our lower body.

My foot hits something solid and rather sharp, most likely a large stone, causing me to let out a loud hiss before I could stop it. I freeze, listening on the noises surrounding us, expecting those screeches to emerge from behind the nearest wall and put an end to this torture we’re enduring. 

I nearly jump out of my skin when a hand wraps around my wrist gently. My first instinct is to pull away, all my muscles tensing as I try to take a step back. 

“Hey, hey relax. It’s ok.“ Y/N’s voice is unusually soft and sweet, just like when she was comforting Josh. It’s the voice she uses when aiding a hurt animal, or calming a weeping baby. “You’re ok, nothing bad will happen to us, ok Sam? We’re making it out of here.“ She’s carrying the mom role, the older sister role, the nurse role and the pillar we’re all leaning on for support. She’s keeping it together so we can too.

Her hand moves down to mine, unfolding my fingers that I’ve curled into a tight fist due to the uncomfortable sensation of being half frozen and half numb. He holds my hand open while quickly slipping off a ring from her pointer finger and putting it on mine. It has a small brightly blue rock on it. I recognize it right away - it’s the only ring she wears permanently. She changes all her other accessories, but never this ring. I can swear I’ve heard her joke that she’d like to be buried with it when the time comes.

“The lady that gave me this ring said it symbolizes the courage to carry on while carrying the world on your shoulders, and that really stuck with me.“ Her tone takes me to a different place, somewhere nice, safe and warm. Her words wrap around me like a safety blanket, for a moment letting me forget everything: the past few hours, the present and the yet to be determined future. “I have a feeling you need that courage more than I do.“

I nod but I’m physically unable to look up and meet her eyes. My gaze is fixated on her hands, which I’ve never felt so warm, holding mine as though it’s made of porcelain.

“If you keep going at this rate, all your jewelry will end up on me.“ I fish the necklace from underneath my hoodie, holding the charm so she can see it.

It’s a necklace she gave me right before she went on her first forest ranger training program. We weren’t sure if we’d see her again when we were at the train station saying goodbye. She said there was a chance of her staying at the camp to fully devote herself to what she wanted for her future. Thankfully though, she returned about four months later. I remember how hard I had to fight my tears that day. I should’ve know it would be useless - Y/N notices everything. That necklace, a beautiful blood red circular pendant hanging on a silver chain, was her saying ‘see you soon, hopefully’. I haven’t taken it off me since.

“I’ve already written it all to you in my will.“ She gives my hand a squeeze before letting go and continuing forward. After a brief return to the present reality I follow, making sure to always be an arm reach away at most from Y/N. Being within close proximity to her makes me feel like it will be alright. I mean, she said it would be, and she’s never wrong.

We enter an area where the water isn’t as still anymore. It rushes towards this small cliff where it creates a waterfall, pooling in the lower level in the form of a deep lake. The water is way higher there and the ground at the bottom is not reachable.

“Let’s try not to get pulled.“ Mike declares, his walk now more of a struggle just like everyone else’s “If we can reach that wall without dying we should be ok.“

We all nod, more as a way of reassuring ourselves than a response to his statement. We are less than fifteen feet away, I have a strong belief we can make it.

Ten feet away. We’re almost there.

And then we hear it - a deafening screech. It’s right next to me.

We turn to see that monster grab Y/N by her throat, throwing her into the water. Before we even have time to react, it’s too late. The thing has once again picked her up, holding her high above the surface of the water. She looks at me, her eyes screaming the way her vocal chords can’t. The fear has silenced her.

The wendigo’s other hand pierces through her chest, pulling her heart out. 

She’s gone. She’s gone. She can’t be gone! WHY HER?! Why couldn’t it be me?! Why am I still drawing breath when she just let out her last one?! WHY DID IT GO FOR HER?! Is it because it knew that’s the quickest way to kill me?! TO KILL ALL OF US?!

The wendigo throws Y/N’s body over the cliff and into the deep lake below right before it climbs one of the stone walls and leaves our sight. It didn’t see any of us. We were too frozen to move even if we tried, of course it didn’t see us. 

“We..- we gotta keep moving. Sam, come on. It’s over. She’s gone. We can’t help her.“ Each word shakier than the last, but still like sharp stabs right through my chest. Mike has taken hold of my arm and is leading me towards the wall we are supposed to climb to get out of here and back to the lodge.

                                                            *  *  *

I don’t remember climbing the damn thing. I don’t remember the way back to the lodge. I can faintly recall the pained cries of everyone in the basement when Mike told them what happened. All that time I couldn’t utter a single word. I couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It all happened so out of the blue and it was over so quickly, like it wasn’t the end of a human life. Like it didn’t matter and it wouldn’t have any lasting effects on anything that followed. As though her death wasn’t worth to be remembered.

It all sunk in only after I was out of that hell-hole lodge, the flames dancing in front of my eyes, surrounding the structure that within its walls held several of those monsters, one of which was the one that killed Y/N.

Y/N

Thinking of her got me to look down at the pendant of the necklace around my neck, the fire being reflected off its smooth red surface. Like a pool of blood in the middle of a forest caught by a wildfire.

See you soon, hopefully

I take one look at those woods, my heart sinking at the thought that behind those trees there’s an entrance to the mines. The mines that are now the resting place of the girl I loved. The girl that deserved better.

“Sam, they’re here. We’re safe. They’re saving us. It’s finally over.“ Mike’s words are nothing but a faint echo at the back of my conscience.

What’s on the front lines of my mind is that phrase - See you soon, hopefully. I’ll be seeing her soon. But not through death, she would never wish that upon me or anyone.

She’ll come back. She won’t let this be the end. She’s too stubborn.

“SAM!“ The screams fail to reach me completely as I run as though my life depends on it. My feet barely touch the ground, my instinct leading me to the nightmarish depths of this mountain. 

I will not allow it to be your resting place, Y/N!

I jump from the top of the wall into the shallow water, letting the water drag my shaky form towards the cliff. With zero hesitation or doubt, no regard for the filthiness of the water or the horrors that may await me below its surface.

It’s pitch black. I can’t see or feel a thing. My body feels like it’s being stabbed by thousands of needles, causing it to go numb. I push my lungs to their limits, testing every cell of my body, begging them to not fail me.

The discourage starts settling in, accompanied by the pain that’s spreading throughout my chest due to the lack of oxygen. I’m just about to swim to the surface to breathe when I see it.

A glow. More of a reflection, actually. The reflection I was talking about earlier. The minimal light that’s pushing its way into the mines has made it to this depth and is being reflected by a metal ring connected to a pale hand.

Dizziness and pain all but forgotten, I push myself to swim lower, grasping the hand and giving it my all to pull it up. I only realize I’m above water when air enters my lungs in large gulps. It takes me a second to take in the fact that I’m holding the bloody, pale, unmoving body of Y/N with a hole through her chest.

“Please...“ I beg through gasps for breath, “Please open your eyes, live. Oh God, a wendigo or not just...just please come back to me, Y/N! Come back to take me with you!“

Despite my words of desperation, my screams of agony, I know they are in vain. I know she wouldn’t come back even if she could. She would rather stay dead than return as a threat to her friends with the risk of actually hurting them. She would never bring harm to her loved ones.

Images flash before my eyes: The hurt in her eyes when Josh’s scheme was revealed; Her comforting Ashley while Chris was out with the Flamethrower Guy; Talking Mike into putting the gun away and not shooting Em; Her standing up to Emily, grabbing her arm before she could hit Ash; Her comforting the disoriented and scared Josh we found in the mines; Her looking at me a second before her death.

There are two scenes that have been permanently engraved in my memory: Seeing her shining form for the first time and seeing her ink-like eyes, filled with terror for the last time.  

                                                            *  *  *

We’re sitting in a room with bright neon lights and security cameras in each corner. I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t even remember leaving the mines. We were all given a change of clothes and a blanket. They offered us food and something to drink to refuel our bodies but after those horrors we saw, non of us are able to hold anything down. Josh was taken to a separate room the moment the helicopter landed and we haven’t seen him since.

I’m sitting on a bench next to Chris and Ashley, opposite Mike, Jess and Emily. Poor Jess has had it the roughest out of all of us. She has been drained of all emotion, her face isn’t even pale - more see-through. Mike’s arm is protectively wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close. Matt and Emily are holding hands, unable to say anything to each other. Chris has Ashley tightly wrapped in his arms as though he’s prepared to protect her from anything. 

And I’m alone. 

I saw a black body bag being unloaded from the helicopter. I knew whose body it contained. No one dared say a word about it. We had run out of tears and words at that point.

I keep my head hanging low, my eyes fixated on the white tiled floor beneath my feet. The lights are too bright compared to my pitch black world. It’s all just empty and meaningless now. Looking back, I should’ve taken my own advice and spoken up about how I felt. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, maybe everything would’ve been different. And that’s the real torment - I will never know.

I straighten up, squinting at the artificial blinding lights, resting my back against the wall behind me. As I’m doing so, I catch a glimpse of something shiny in front of me. 

My heart leaps. 

It’s such an irrational reaction to something so simple. So ordinary to anyone else.

The shine is coming from the light reflecting off the chain Mike’s wearing around his neck. A familiar chain I’ve seen on someone else.

“That’s Y/N’s.“ I bark at him angrily, gaining his attention, “Why do you have it?!“

“Sam...“ Chris’ hand rests on my arm, “We all have something hers. She was sentimental, remember?“

‘Was‘. That change from ‘is‘ to ‘was‘ is killing me. And the ease with which everyone has accepted that Y/N is now a thing of the past.

“She gave me a bracelet.“ Ashley shows me her wrist

“She gave me this cool watch...“ Chris rolls up his sleeve, “I’m glad it survived all the crap it was put through with me. Not a scratch.“

“She’d haunt you if you scratched it.“ Matt smiles but his eyes are dull with sadness

“She’ll haunt us regardless.“ Emily says, “I hope she does.“

The rest of the crew shows the pieces Y/N left them of herself and it’s the most heartwarming while also heartbreaking feeling. The room has a different atmosphere all of a sudden. We are seven people, each with a soul of our own and a piece of Y/N’s. 

As long as all the pieces are near each other, she’ll be alive and present. She’ll live on to watch over us and guide us. She’s probably looking down at us right now, relieved that we made it out. Overjoyed that Chris and Ashely are finally where they’re supposed to be - in each other’s arms. Glad Matt and Emily have found a stable middle ground. Proud of Jess for what she survived back there and happy she has found safety in Mike’s embrace. And what does she feel about me? As I said, I’ll never know, I can only hope she heard what I said to her back in the mines.

Assumptions aside, her message is crystal clear and leaves no room for speculations:

As long as we’re together, she’ll be with us. Forever.