terribly sorry for progressively getting more and more annoyed and tired with jn. this show kinda gets a lot more exhausting on a rewatch when you know its not going to get better

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 16

Pairings: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors Author’s notes: Thanks for the support! xx (also kinda personal but I just got accpected into uni?! Crazy!) 

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 16: Everything Goes According to Plan

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January 30th, 1976

“Where’s my camera?”

“Be careful — Oi! Don’t step on me!”

“Ouch!”

“Shush!”

The squeaking of floorboards creaked throughout the small room as everyone kept on stumbling into each other, all fidgeting from excitement. That morning, they’d all woken up earlier than usual, decorating the room with streamers, leftover Christmas decor and a large banner that hung above the entrance of the doorway that read, Happy Birthday, Petals! (which was Y/N’s idea — she was very proud of the nickname). Even Mary snuck into their dorm, making everyone wear small pointy party hats as they huddled around Lily’s bed, circling her like vultures and raised their hands high. With a quiet count of three from Marlene, their hands lowered, hovering over Lily’s arms and legs, then shook.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They bellowed.

Lily woke with a jolt; her eyes flew open as she let out a scream. Her back slammed against the bed frame while Toulouse swiped at them, specifically at Marlene and hissed.

Lily’s heart hammered against her chest and she felt the small prickles of needles subside all over her body. Her hand clutched her nightgown, attempting to even out her breathing. “You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

“Happy birthday, Lils!” Mary repeated before climbing into her bed, hugging her.

She grunted at the impact as a smile replaced her features. Her eyes hopped from person to person before landing on Y/N who gave a sweet smile which had Lily blushing as she averted her eyes back to Mary.

When the group realized that Lily’s birthday fell on a weekend, it left them giddy and beyond excited for the endless opportunities that lay ahead of them. Not only did it leave the entire group to have a small break from their ruthless studying, but they could thoroughly celebrate the day and have enough time to spare for any last-minute plans for the surprise birthday party that night.

“Get your arse up and get ready to start the day!” Marlene declared, already trying to tug her crimson blanket away.

Lily yawned, rubbing her eyes, “Do we have to? I’m tired…”

“Come on! Life is short! It’s time we make memories,” she cried, “You never know when you’re going to die! Would you rather celebrate your birthday as a ghost or six feet under?! I, for one, will not visit your grave.”

Lily rolled her eyes, getting up with a stretch. Dorcas moved to turn on Marlene’s record player, settling a record by Nancy Sinatra as everyone continued with their usual morning routines. Lily got dressed in her favourite long sleeve lilac dress, pulling on tights to prevent herself from freezing. Mary wore her usual gold eyeshadow and wore a red jumpsuit while Marlene dressed coolly in all black. Although, Dorcas decided to stay in bed, still recovering from her nasty flu.

“You look very pretty today,” Y/N told Lily while detangling her hair from the loose braid she had it in. She took a brush and hair styler, primping her hair to Lily’s usual style and placed a headband in her hair.

“I — I, er — thanks!” She replied somewhat flustered.

“No… problem — there! Finished!” She handed Lily a handheld mirror, letting her go over her appearance. Pleased, she turned around to the group.

“So, first order of business, what did you want to do today?” Dorcas asked before going into a fit of coughs. Marlene rushed up to her side and popped off a cork from a nearby potion for her to drink.

Everyone had been slightly worried. It had been four days now and Dorcas still wasn’t recovering from the flu despite the ad of magic and potions. Thankfully today she seemed to perk up, even just a little, but they worried she was pushing herself.

“How about we just stay here, with you? We can all up a Healer and —”

“No,” Dorcas coughed again, she waved her hands in front of her, “I’ll be fine. Don't worry about me. What do you want to do?”

Lily remained quiet for a moment and Y/N assumed she was going to suggest staying in their dorm with Dorcas again, but her eyes gleamed with unusual mischief. Her eyes hopped from person to person before landing on Y/N. “I want to do a prank and I think you’ll love it.”

Everyone’s brows rose. Lily, the goodie-two-shoes prefect, Evans and pranks?! Those two do not belong in the same sentences.

“Okay…” said Mary, nodding her head despite being confused, “We’re listening.”

Lily sat down on her bed, crossing one leg over the other as she motioned everyone to sit. “Do you think it’s possible if we can dye someone’s hair? Obviously, safely,” she used her prefect voice, “But do you think we can?”

A beat went by — that was strangely out of character. What happened to the Lily they knew?

“Yeah,” Marlene begins, “What colour are you thinking?”

“Orange — bright orange with a bit of green.”

Then, Lily turned over to look at her again, a ghost of a smile appearing that told Y/N that whatever she was planning was going to be worth it — especially if Lily out of all people, was going to pull it off.

“Someone's going to be sorry for calling me Carrots.”

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At breakfast, they arrived later than usual after they all planned out their prank. Marlene, who had been a part of too many pranks with Sirius and James, helped the most, while Y/N and Lily created a hair-changing potion using one of Dorcas’ old cauldrons — but unlike James, they stuck to a potions textbook with a reversal potion. Since it was Lily’s idea, she would be the one to slip the potion into Sirius’ drink. So, she tucked the vital into the sleeve of her dress, hidden from prying eyes.

They all huddled around her as they entered the Great Hall; their hands were pushed forward protectively, guarding Lily as if she were a celebrity being swarmed by adoring fans and they were her bodyguards. They paved her way from students while shouting:

“She’s declining photos at the moment!”

“Birthday girl coming through!”

“She’s a very busy lady! Out of the way!”

Lily kept on protesting for them to stop, hiding her face in her hands. As they reached their table, they sat beside the marauders while Lily made sure to take a seat next to Sirius. But, that wasn’t the end of Lily’s humiliation. Mary stood up, clapping to gain everyone’s attention. Once she realized what was about to happen she quickly got up, but Y/N and Sirius clapped a hand on Lily’s shoulder, shoving her back down on the bench.

They opened their mouths, singing,

“Haaaaapppppy birthday to you!” The six of them hollered before the rest of the hall caught on and started singing. “Haaaaapppppy birthday to you! Haaaaapppppy birthday dear Lily —” “CARROTS!” Shouted Sirius at the top of his lungs.

Lily kept shaking her head, blushing incredibly hard — even the tips of her ears started to turn pink. She covered her ears, attempting to muffle out the singing.

Y/N snapped a few photos of her, shoving them into her pockets.

“Haaaaapppppy birthhhhdaaaay tooooo youuuuuuuu!”

The Gryffindors and any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs that knew Lily cheered loudly. A few teachers, like Slughorn or McGonagall, made their way over to her, congratulating her along with a few other of her friends from different houses. Well wishes could be heard, along with a few people even handing her cards too.

Even an owl came swooping by when she had her back turned, dropping off a small package addressed from her parents and her sister, Petunia.

Swarmed and distracted, this left the group to huddle together as they leant over the table, forming a small circle of sorts. James was excluded as he sat back and drank a cup of tea flicking through the Daily Prophet.

“Operation: Lily’s birthday party,” said Marlene, “Let’s go over what our positions are for tonight.”

Mary was assigned with Dorcas to decorate the common room while Remus distracted Lily tonight during their rounds. Marlene and Sirius were in charge of drinks and snacks, leaving Peter and Y/N to bake a cake and bring any additional food.

They all quickly pulled apart once the crowd around Lily subsided. She settled back down, nodding and faking a cough. This signalled to the girls as Marlene quickly roped Sirius into a conversation about a New-Maj band he liked; Y/N talked to James about the upcoming Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch match which left Mary to distract both Peter and Remus.

When none of the marauders were looking, Lily popped the corkscrew from the vital and grabbed a bowl of muffins on Sirius’ left. While she lent over, the potion poured directly into Sirius’ cup and she sat back down, smirking to herself. Y/N gave a discreet small high-five to her as they waited.

After a few minutes, parched from his talk with Marlene, Sirius picked up his goblet and tipped back the drink. He took a large gulp, wincing at the taste as he pulled it away from his face, but returned to his conversation like normal.

For several minutes, nothing happened. The girls kept quickly glancing upwards to check out his hair, but nothing: still bleached blond. They sighed, dejected that their plan hadn’t worked and Y/N nudged Lily underneath the table and gave a small smile, trying to cheer her up.

Another ten minutes went by and only then did the root of Sirius’ hair begin to tint into a bright orange colour rather than his dyed hair. This caught the girl's attention, however, the rest of the marauders who were still engaged in their conversations, did not notice as their heads were turned away from him.

His hair rapidly turned into orange as the tips were tinted green. Sirius didn’t seem to notice until James laughed, quickly turning to him to tell him a joke until his eyes widened at his hair.

“Ugh — Padfoot?!”

Sirius looked at him bewildered at his worried tone and expression before catching his reflection in James’ glasses. By now, Peter and Remus looked at him, their eyes widened, leaving the girls to force down their laughter, showing false concern.

“What the fuck?!” Sirius exclaimed, running a hand through it. She’d never seen Sirius this panicked before. More than anything, he looked shocked and even a bit… happy? No — definitely not happy. He continued to chuckle nervously before fretting over his appearance. For once, his laughter did not bother her.

Students began to take notice, pointing over at the Gryffindor table while some even began gossiping with others about the prank. As soon as the bell rang, everyone got up from their seats while the marauders surrounded Sirius, trying to help him out. The girls, on the other hand, got up and ran out of the Great Hall, practically howling.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe I just did that! I did that! We did that!” Lily exclaimed in disbelief before taking a seat down at their usual hangout near the library. “Did you see his reaction?! Jeez! I see why they pull so many pranks now!”

Y/N was about to burst into tears. That was by far the funniest shit she’d ever seen before. Marlene was in a similar boat as she clutched her side. Her stomach hurt from how hard she laughed.

“Lily! You little minx!” Mary cried as flopped beside Lily, her head dropping into her lap.

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Their day was jammed packed. They went skating on the black lake, hit up the library, walked around school grounds which ended up in a huge snowball fight. After a bit, they decided to take a moment to separate themselves to give each other a bit of space while Lily went to find Snape.

This left the rest of the group two hours tops to themselves.

Y/N walked over to Honeydukes, buying a bunch of Jelly Slugs and a couple of other things before dashing back to the castle; she needed to wrap all of her presents and she promised to help Dorcas wrap hers too.

Before she entered Hogwarts again, Y/N took a moment to herself and enjoyed the small moment of peace around her. The soft crunching of snow, the cold breeze and the stillness — how quiet it was — there was hardly a moment since the break that Y/N had felt the comfortable peace Hogwarts had to offer.

Stepping inside the corridors, the atmosphere suddenly changed with the torches ablaze and a constant bubbling ambience that never seemed to settle.

In the distance, to her right, she could hear distant shouting and a rush of footsteps nearing. Out of nowhere, James seemed to come barreling towards her.

“Whiskers!” He yelled, sending her a fast wink as he continued to run down the corridor, making a sharp turn. Then, Marlee popped out, dashing after James.

“Marls?! What’s happening?”

“Running from Filch — get him off my trail!”

“What did you do?!”

“Told me to cover up, so I hexed him — Potter called him a rent boy!”

“Are you going to miss the party?” She yelled as Marlene’s body kept getting smaller and smaller as she ran. Y/N began to panic, without Marlene, surely things would take a lot longer than planned.

“Like hell I am! I won’t be late!”

Marlene disappeared, shortly being replaced by Filch who ran in a strange mixture of running and hopping.

“Where did they go?” He breathed, bending down and clutching his knees. “I heard them over here, where are they?”

And so Y/N decided to have some fun. “Who?”

“You know!”

“Um — you mean the one with blond hair?” “And the boy with black hair!”

“Oh! Yes, I know who… What’re their names again? Severus Snape and —” she paused, trying to think of another blond person, “Ugh — Sirius Black?”

Well, he used to be blond.

“No! The Potter boy and McKinnon! Where are they?!”

“Hmm… Oh! Oh! I think they went,” she pointed outside to the thick, cold snowy path, “That way!”

Filch didn’t even question her and ran off. Laughing, Y/N ran away from Filch; the last thing she wanted to do was face his wrath once he knew she lied.

Opening the door to her dorm, Dorcas was asleep. She walked up to grab a nearby folded blanket and placed it over her body to keep her warm before starting working.

She cleared off a table, unfolding her wrapping paper and wrapped the sides before creasing them, taping everything down with a pretty bow.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Nobody had seen Marlene or James for the past couple of hours — they’d even skipped dinner which caused everyone to go into a state of panic. Without Marlene, Sirius would be in a lot of trouble completing his task alone.

The common room was filled with fighting in hushed whispers as Lily and Remus were set to leave for their rounds in a couple of minutes.

“I’m going to kill her,” Mary fumed, “The one day they’re not supposed to go mucking around, they pull this!”

“How about we find them —” “And lose the little time we have now?”

Sirius, in particular, was on edge, aggravated, as he turned towards Y/N, “Why didn’t you think of saying anything sooner?”

“Because I didn’t think Marlene and James would be stupid enough to get caught! Not today!”

He closed his mouth, his lips pressed into a tight line. Even he hadn’t expected them to be that stupid either — not today.

“Everyone, shut up. All of you! Why don’t we take a moment to breathe?” Remus said calmly, effectively shutting the entire group up. In moments like these, Y/N understood why he was a prefect. He breathed in and looked to Sirius, “You can do this by yourself, can you?”

“Course not, Moony. Have a little faith in me!” Sirius gave a tenacious laugh, although forced.

Remus’ eyes then flicker to Y/N and Peter, “This shouldn’t affect you, will it?”

They shook their heads.

“Okay then, we’ll continue as planned. I’ll buy you as much time as —” He quickly cut himself off as everyone’s ears perked up. They all heard it, Lily’s footsteps. With that, Y/N, Sirius and Peter weaved their way out of the common room, walking quickly to avoid Lily and Remus from catching up to them. Unfortunately, Sirius took the invisibility cloak before she or Peter had the time to ask for it.

They sneakily made their way down a flight of moving stairs, passing several empty corridors and made their way down to the kitchens.

Once they began working on Lily’s cake, Y/N instantly knew why Peter was assigned to the kitchens.

He instructed her most of the time, telling her which ingredients or utensils to find. Currently, she grabbed a metal ladle and watched as Peter churn the ingredients, watching as they blend into a seamless, smooth mixture. She sat back most of the time, baking and cooking was never something she was great at. 

Y/N rifled through the cabinets, searching for a cake tin. “Ah-hah! Found some!”

They were heart-shaped, rather than the usual circular ones. She placed them onto the counter before turning her attention to grease the pans and focus on making a couple of sandwiches.

“So,” she started, trying to make small talk, “Where’d you learn to bake so well?”

Peter went pink as he wordlessly flicked his wand; the cake tin and floated it into one of the pre-heated ovens and turned to make the frosting. “Erm — it was James’ mum, Euphemia, who taught me. She’s a great baker — honestly she’s good at everything.

“James and I grew up close to each other; we’re childhood friends. He never did fancy baking — liked cooking more and I felt bad he never wanted to help out Euphemia. So one day I offered to help and now whenever I’m at their house, I help around — like a tradition — and I do it in my spare time now. Helps clear my head.”

Just then, two house-elves popped in, each holding a cup of tea for each student. Y/N gave her thanks while Peter turned to talk to them, making them laugh and asking questions that seemingly were a follow-up from a previous conversation. A light dust of flour scattered the side of his cheek while he smiled with them. The more he spoke with the elves, the more Y/N grew fascinated.

Out of all the marauders, even beating out Sirius and James who were amongst the most popular students at Hogwarts, Peter was the most liked out of all of them, especially amongst her friend group.

He wasn’t James who at times was a bit too much and talked an awful lot. He wasn’t Sirius who was dramatic, nor was he Remus who was quiet and intimidating. Peter was just Peter — who was a bit skittish, insanely good at Wizard’s chess, bold enough to sneak into the Slytherin's common room all by himself and loved to bake, clearly was in the kitchens often enough to have full-blown conversations with the elves when most people would so much as spit on before walking away.

It spoke volumes of his character, especially since he was from a Pureblood family; bound to grow up entitled and look down to his inferiors.

She noticed Peter had quite a lot of friends, mostly women, always seeming willing to help someone in dire need whether it be listening, giving advice or comforting another person. It only made her recollect the time Peter had engaged in small conversations with her, seeking to make her feel more included. Like that one time he’d mentioned the Holy Harpies. Small, ostensibly insignificant, but contemplating it now; he'd been trying to make her comfortable — settled — welcoming her with open arms into his group; into the marauders and the girls.

Within moments, there was a newfound appreciation towards the boy.

The sandwiches they made, along with pork pies stolen, were stuffed into a bag, ready to be transported. Y/N boredly spun her wand between the length of her finger while Peter whirled around in his seat until the ring of the timer went off. The elves were already gone, zipped away into thin air as they grew tired with sleep.

Placing a cooling spell onto the cake to avoid the icing from melting off, Peter began layering on a thin layer of icing.

“What’s Lily’s favourite colour? Is it still purple?” He asked. Y/N gave a curt nod.

“Never been a fan of purple. One time I walked into my Grandmum’s room, she only wore purple knickers for my Grandad. Makes me shiver all the time — honestly, the woman traumatized me. S’pose it might be my Boggart.”

Peter also had a sense of humour.

While diligently working, she marvelled at his creation. A two-layer heart-shaped cake, decorated all in light purple icing covered the surface before Peter piped small designs and swirls onto it.

“Wow. I feel like I can barely hold my wand at times yet you —”

“My, my — what do we have here? Students out of bed?” A voice came from behind them. “Tut, tut, tut.”

The two craned their heads backwards where Peeves smiled and let out a squeal of delight.

“Peeves,” Peter began politely. He slowly set down his piping bag and put his hands up in a submissive, yet defensive manner, as if he’d encountered a feral animal. “Please — please, we’re doing something for a dear friend. Don’t get us thrown out.”

“What would happen if I told Filch about you,” the ghost responded in a saintly voice, but his eyes glimmered wickedly. He brought a finger to the side of his face, tapping his index finger to his cheek, thinking.

“What to do, what to do…”

“Psst, Pete, what’s happening?”

Nobody answered her. With Sirius gone with the cloak, it left her and Peter completely out in the open wishlist a ghost threatening them — not to mention the lie she told Filch earlier, there was no way she nor Peter were going to get out of this unscathed.

“Please,” he pleaded.

She looked at him, wide-eyed and started panicking. She repeated louder, “What’s happening? What do we do?”

Peeves then grinned largely and started doing large loops into the air. His cackling rang through the empty corridors, becoming progressively louder.

“Shit. Run.”

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE HALLWAY! I REPEAT, THERE ARE STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE HALLWAY BY THE KITCHENS!”

Peter grabbed the cake while Y/N swiped the bag filled with the rest of the food, piping bags and a small jar of edible decor. They ducked under Peeves, dashing out of the kitchens leaving a huge mess for the unfortunate elves to clean up the next morning.  

Peeves floated behind them slowly as he watched them run. Peter ran slower, trying to make sure he didn’t face plant into the cake while Y/N urged him to run faster.

“He usually helps us,” Peter grits out, “But he’s a two-faced git! Never trust him unless you’re doing a prank! Never!”

Just then, Peter lost his footing and tripped over his feet, letting out a half-shriek, mixing in with Peeves’ evil laughter. They sucked in a sharp breath, watching as the cake flew through the air but Y/N, quick on her feet, grabbed her wand, casting a quick non-verbal charm and watched as the cake and plate froze mid-air before the plate clanked down first, the cake following and settling ontop. She ran up to it, cradling and wrapping a protective arm around it to prevent the cake from dropping again. She called out for Peter to get up before he took the cake again, this time with a shout from Y/N to not drop it, before leading her into a secret passway down the corridor.

Peeves could be heard laughing maniacally down the hall before they both could hear Filch’s footsteps running towards his shouts.

Peter maneuvered through the passage while Filch’s voice became more and more distant as they continued to hurriedly walk. Lily and Remus’ shift was going to end soon and it would be a lost cause if they didn’t make it up to the common room.

They both turned sharply, about to exit before Y/N crashed into a shadowy figure, tripping but being caught swiftly by the figure. They cradled her head to keep her from falling, but the sudden scare caused both students to open their mouths to scream, loudly.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Sirius’ familiar voice runs out, waving a hand to shush Peter while the other was still on her back. Y/N felt herself relax and erratic heartbeat to calm. She’d never been so happy to see Sirius before. Until she realized that they were still touching and they both ripped away.

Her heart spiked, and she felt oddly light headed. Soon enough, her eyes then immediately went to his hair and held back from chuckling — perhaps right now was not the time.

“I came once I heard people shouting and I figured it was you two. You okay?” His eyes darted to her at the last part.

Perhaps her eyes tricked her, that she was too tired or bumping into Sirius too hard, but it felt like he’d been making sure if she was alright. Since when did Sirius care? Although, Peter didn’t seem to notice or he’d ignored the interaction entirely.

“F-fine,” he wheezed out, “Peeves… Peeves caught us while we were decorating the cake. We’re not done yet.”

“What time is it?” She asked.

Sirius placed his wand in his mouth while pulling out a silver pocket watch from his trousers. “Ten to ten.”

“We have time then.” 

Peter placed the cake down gently on a nearby ledge in the passage, causing Sirius to cast Lumos. Sirius kept a watch out, his head moving from side to side every so often as he listened for anyone or anything walking past them.

Pulling out the icing bags and sprinkles, Peter began to finish his work. He continued to create flowers as Y/N wrote on the cake (although with help from her wand), ‘Happy 16th Birthday, Lily!’ and then placed a couple of candles around.

As Peter continued to add his small touches, Y/N’s eyes drifted around, not landing on anything in particular but zoned in on the shining of Sirius’ rings. Her eyes slowly drifted upwards, studying him. The remainder of the full moon that recently passed spilled a muted milky light onto the stone floor and touched Sirius’ face. He wasn’t wearing his normal school robes but dressed in Muggle clothing. Black jeans, a nice sweater, notable messy hair and his body language was relaxed. This Sirius was tolerable, likeable even. She liked this Sirius — but perhaps it was because he finally wasn’t talking. This Sirius gave her an insight into what he was like aside from his annoying, bitchy self. Loose, wild, messy in an elegant way, confident — in his prime — looking for a thrill, sneaking around; mischief.

Suddenly, Sirius’ wand went out as he ducked down, huddling beside her and Peter.

“What —”

They met each other’s eyes, locking, as he brought a finger up to his lips which made her flicker down to look at them, quickly.

Their eye contact was brief, so brief, nonetheless, it contained a flurry of emotions too complicated for Y/N to process.

But being up close for those brief seconds, she was able to examine him — truly, for the first time. Her eyes traced over the singular scar on his face, hidden by his hair that made her wonder where he’d gotten it from. Soon the questions enclosed her mind like an overflowing river.

His small, unexpected gesture had been one of many which had been nicer and oddly thoughtful recently.

Sirius’ brain was written in cryptic code — so advanced and intertwined — too complicated for her to understand. She wanted to understand his actions.

Even if she didn’t like to admit it, Sirius had a depth that greatly attracted her. She had so many unanswered questions.

And since her brain ran a mile a minute, her emotions weren’t filled with that annoyance of ranger — no, for once she didn’t feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Maybe it was because they both had one goal in mind: Lily’s party and that working against each other during something as high stakes like this would fail a good friend of theirs. Or maybe it was that instead of her or him starting something — or maybe — maybe it was because the boy was so close to her, closer than they ever had been before. Or maybe it was the adrenaline that set every fibre of her being on fire — making her feel like honey-dipped in tea — or the odd thunderous throbbing of her heat spiking suddenly; Y/N grew warm all over.

It didn’t help that Sirius didn’t look angry either, but rather a sudden cognizance filled his gaze, looking both shocked and calm.

But quickly, she just chalked up her flurry of emotions to adrenaline or wanting to hex him — either worked.

For Sirius, he felt utter disdain as his gaze fixated on her. He was tempted to flicker down to her lips but her eyes, bright and filled with glittery stars, were enchanting. It scorned him — made his heart beat in an iambic pentameter, creating its own sonnet that would make even the most accomplished poets jealous.

He wanted to refuse her presence. Wanted to focus on anything but her.

But Sirius was a weak man. He failed. He always did.

Their eyes ripped away and they heard the familiar sound of footsteps and voices neared them as they spotted the familiar red hair and tall figure.

Their voices were slightly muffled.  

“— times have changed! You aren’t a second year anymore.” Lily chimed while they walked.

Remus shook his head, instead of flicking his wand as a dozen torches lit up in mere seconds. “Whatever you say, Red.”

She swatted at his shoulder while Remus ruffled her hair, his smiling becoming genuine.

“Seriously, I support it.

“Merlin, Evans — it’s not going to happen. Look at me!”

“Not with that attitude and you look more than fine!”

Peter shifted his eight onto his other foot which made an audible scuffle. However, it was so quiet that neither she nor Sirius caught on but Remus, whose head swirled in their direction, did. He took a deep inhale, a look in his eyes, confusion melting into realization — there and gone — as if he knew they were there despite being hidden by the shadows of the night. He turned his head once more and started walking faster while Lily skipped down, trying to catch up to him.

Remus Lupin was an odd one alright.

Nobody moved until they were positive they were gone.

The entire night had been a shitshow.

“Okay,” Sirius exhaled, he felt his entire body tense up, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Do you think the cake is okay?” Y/N asked Peter as Sirius tossed the invisibility cloak over their bodies, hiding them from onlookers.

“Bloody well hope so,” he grunted, “We didn’t get caught almost three times, freeze our arse, almost get a month's detention, and probably destroyed the kitchen for it not to be great.”

Without another word, they made their way back to the common room where everyone made a fuss about how late they were. Quickly, Peter placed any last-minute designs, Mary handed everyone small party horns, Dorcas put up last-minute balloons while Y/N and Sirius helped each other layout all the snacks and drinks — this time, civilly.

“God… How’d you even get this much? Me and Peter were in the kitchens and we couldn’t even get half of what you got.”

At this, Sirius smirked before collapsing into the plush velvet couch behind him, an exhausted sigh as he sank further in. But as soon as the smirk was there, it was gone as everyone heard the clicking of the portrait open.

“Hide — HIDE!”

All the lights were blown out as they all hid behind the couches — they heard quiet footsteps — someone shuffling towards the middle — footsteps getting louder — louder — and —

Sirius lit the entire room as they all sprung up and Y/N quickly held her camera to her face and snapped a photo as everyone shouted,

“SUPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHD —” “Godric fucking Gryffindor!”

“... I’m going to KILL YOU MCKINNON! POTTER!”

Everyone groaned in disappointment at James and Marlene’s arrival before they heard the faint sounds of footsteps outside of the portrait again. Mary yanked Marlene down, shoving her behind the couch along with forcing a party hat on her head and confetti in her hands. Sirius grabbed James by his red sweater and rushed him up the stairs before getting back into place.

“Told you,” Marlene whispered into her ear, “Wasn’t going to be late.”

The real Lily could be heard as she spoke excitedly with Remus. The portrait swung open — everyone waited before she stepped inside — they put most of their weight onto their toes, waiting to jump — Sirius’ wand was about to light up the room — Y/N held her camera — Dorcas and Marlene were going to throw up the confetti —

“Why is it so dark —”

“SUPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!”

Light rushed back into the room and Lily’s face lit up brighter than the sun. Mountains of sweets were piled into bowls while a small table was lined with drinks. Sirius outdid himself, seemingly raiding Honeydukes; there was taffy, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, sherbet lemon, caldron cakes — plus the food Y/N and Peter had hauled from the kitchen; sandwiches, fruit, crisp (she made the mistake of saying chips in front of James and Marlene only to then be hassled by them for it) and pork pies.

ABBA played in the background, much to Remus’ demise as her purple cake sat in the middle on a table, all the candles lit. They all ushered Lily to blow out the candles while they all held wrapped gifts, cards and small gift bags.

“You didn’t need to do this!” Lily said, although there was a thankful look in her eyes, “This is too much! Thank you!”

“Anything for you, Evans!”

“You’re lucky we didn’t bring fireworks!” Marlene and Sirius grinned.

“You would have all gotten detention —” “Stop being a goody goody, not today, Lils!” Sirius slung his arm around the redhead.

Gifts went around; Lily had gotten so many cards from other teachers and students, handmade jewellery from Dorcas, Remus knit her a sweater with hearts, Mary and Marlene gave a joint gift, Peter bought her a small yet overly fancy tea set Lily had mentioned offhandedly before, Sirius gave her a first edition books she loved while Y/N gave her the gifts she bought from that old book store. Alice had even dropped by and given her a small package before heading back up for the night.

They all smiled widely at her and were thrilled to see her so happy. Y/N lifted her camera and took an abundance of photos throughout the entire night, before shoving them into the back pocket of her pants.

By the time everyone reluctantly returned to their dormitories, it was three o’clock in the morning and everyone was beyond tired, deciding it was time for bed.

“Night,” Dorcas called out. Marlene yawned loudly before falling into her bed, muttering out another round of happy birthdays to Lily. They were out the fastest — soft snores filling the room.

White specks seemed to blur through her vision as Y/N rubbed her tired eyes. She was about to call over to Lily, say goodnight, roll over and sleep before the creaking of her bed altered her to Lily padding her way to the bed. Y/N looked up at her, confused before scouting over for Lily to slip in, under her blankets.

“Are you okay, Petals?”

“Beyond perfect,” she replied with a wistful voice, “I’m so thankful. Thank you.”

Y/N chuckled, although she was a tad perplexed, “Y’know, it wasn’t just me who helped.”

“I know, but still. This birthday feels different from all the other ones I’ve had and I can’t help but think it’s also because of you.”

Lily Evans never ceased to amaze her. “Well, I hope you mean that in a good way,” she teased.

“Obviously!”

Silence fell around them before Toulouse hopped onto Y/N’s bed and settled himself between the two friends.

Y/N’s eyes wondered to the banner: petals... “What’s your favourite flower? Surely it’s not lilies, are they?”

Lily gave a small huff of amusement and shook her head, “No. Peonies or irises. What about yours?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll just say lilies for now.” She said absentmindedly before her eyes shot open. “Shit! I forgot —” Y/N reached over Lily and opened her drawer with the pouch of Jelly slugs before placing them into Lily’s hands. “Forgot to give you these.”

There was a soft look in Lily’s eyes and something Y/N couldn’t quite place. Her friend was acting quite strange.

“It feels like I’ve known you forever,” Lily says softly, her face flushed a rosy colour.

She stayed silent for a while, at a complete loss for words. Even a slight look of confusion crossed Lily’s face. 

“Yeah, you too.”

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two 

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fianc��e who was the cause of all these things. 

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is. 

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him. 

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough. 

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you. 

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless. 

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range. 

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary. 

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea! 

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing. 

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters. 

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!” 

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours. 

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression. 

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?” 

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you. 

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it. 

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.” 

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.” 

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway. 

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship. 

—Reveal to me

[Shakespeare portrait au - part 1]

Suitor(s): Shakespeare

TW: Claustrophobia, nyctophobia, betrayal, manipulation

Genre: Starts off angst, ends off fluffy/ hopeful

Notes: Gender neutral MC || Damn the quality of this went 📉 the closer to the end I got 😃 || Shakespeare portrait au explanation || Inspired by @pondlilies00 's drawing

Part 1 (you are here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Good ending | Bad ending

The tapping of shoes. Irregular and quick along side another pair which walked at a smoother pace, almost silent if not for the clicking of heels across the floor.

They were sounds that Shakespeare was accustomed to. He was even able to distinctly identify the pace and weight of the steps of the fine Comte out of the two pairs. One was unidentifiable,one he hasn't heard in the entirety of his time in the portrait but Comte's Oxfords tapping along the floor were unmistakable. After all, he had heard them almost everyday for the past- the past...

How long had it been? A month? A few years? More? Perhaps a decade or two? He had lost count and there was now no way to differentiate night from day with the accursed cloth that was draped over him, cloaking him in the darkness that he hated on so much.

He loathed it. Truly. How it rendered him vulnerable, unable to see that which occurred around him. If course it wasn't an issue for the others.

Vampires, they had privileges such as these. The ability to see perfectly in the dark as though there was no difference between the lighting of night and day.

That privilege was not one that Shakespeare had access to and it gave him the urge to curse his eyes, to simply gouge them out for he would find it better to not see at all than to see the accursed red tint of the cloth that kept him obscured from the rest of the world shine upon his darkness once the sun rose and shone through the glass of the mansion's windows.

If only he hadn't trusted Vlad.

Comte warned him. So did Leonardo.

They told him that Vlad saw him as nothing but an expendable pawn, a chess piece that he would toss aside as needed, but, as many times as he would hear that he shouldn’t and that he should just walk away, he trusted Vlad.

After all, the man had come through many a time before so why not now.

To play on the human fear of being trapped in every sense of the word. To be physically trapped, to be trapped in time, to be trapped and unable to do anything as the world around you and everything you’d known fell apart and everything becomes distant and lost to you. A display of this is what Vlad had offered.

The prospect was tantalising and oh so delightfully promising that he couldn’t say no and that was his mistake.

As a result of this. He was not able to see who the new footsteps belonged to. He had every set of footsteps in the mansion committed to memory. From the weight of each step, to the make it each shoe, to being able to tell what each person's mood was based off of the speed of their steps, he had even memorized the steps of a few regular guests at the mansion from Le Comte's various balls.

There footfalls were new to him, the stranger's that is, and he burned with the curiosity to know who you were.

He could hear your voice beyond the cloth, confused, almost scared, as if he was listening to a lost child and he wished to know who it was. Who you were that had managed to, even in the presence of a man as welcoming and warm as the count, still speak with lingering fear in your voice.

Perhaps you had found out about them. About their true nature.

While unlikely, there was a chance.

He could hear your footsteps growing louder, louder, until they came to a halt, Comte's stopping soon after. You had stopped. Right in front of him.

He could hear your breaths, almost silent if not for the fact that he had become so accustomed to using his hearing as his dominant sense. It has been all too long since he had seen something, touched something other than the almost glassy walls that kept him caged in so rightly that it felt suffocating, smelt something other than the dust that was accumulating along side him in the space, threatening to engulf him if he stayed still for too long, tasted something, anything at all.

"Comte?" The sound of your voice reached him and he found himself burning with curiosity, almost hope which he immediately snuffed out.

"What's behind this cloth? If you don't mind my asking, I mean. It's just kind of unusual placement for a window or the like." Did you really-?

"Hm? I don't actually seem to recall what's hung here." whatever hope had managed to arise in him was instantaneously torn away from him.

He... He couldn't remember him. The first man that Le Comte had turned, spent the most time with, and get he couldn't remember...

Of course he couldn't a voice in the back of his mind whispered, wallowing in its own self pity. After all, he put the cloth over your portrait. He didn't want to remember you. You'd caused him more harm than good.

He knew that the word were his own thoughts, bubbling to the surface as they is often did when he allowed himself to delve too far into the recesses of his mind but perhaps the words were true.

He, an immortal with the memory of hundreds of years, could not remember him.

The cloth shifted and soon Shakespeare was assaulted by the light. It was blinding and yet refreshing, a new inconsistency in the dullness of his prison.

Blinking rapidly and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he caught the vague blue or your figure standing beside a figure draped in the gold that he knew so well.

Eyes finally becoming accustomed to the light, something he had not had the pleasure of seeing for oh so long, his eyes first fixed themselves on Comte. He took note of the slight furrow of his brows, the barely noticeable frown of confusion which followed up with his eyes widening, recognition flashing through them.

He was right. The count could barely remember him.

He pressed his lips together tightly, eyes almost watering, the feeling burning him at the realisation.

It was your gasp of shock that stopped the imminent flood of tears.

He looked to you, almost having forgot you were there and cocked his head in confusion at your current state. You'd jumped back, eyes wide in fear.

What could have possibly caused that reaction?

"Ma chérie?" Your eyes flickered to Comte who's hand was outstretched to you.

"It moved." Your voice was barely above a whisper and yet it was crystal clear to the two vampires.

"Pardon?"

"The painting. Is it magic or something..?" You stated at the painting hesitantly and looked like you'd been electrocuted at the sight of Shakespeare cocking his head to the side in question, jumping back even further.

Did you see him..?

Hope fluttered in his chest once again and he raised his hand, giving you a small wave to test if he was right.

Your eyes widened further to the point that he wondered if it hurt but you yourself brought your hand up and hpgabe him a small wave in return, seemingly only half aware of the gesture as you stared, almost unmovingly at the painting.

"-mc?" You jumped at the sound of Comte's voice and turned to him. He'd been trying to get your attention for a few moments before that but found you enamoured with the portrait.

He looked at you, worry I'm his eyes and a silent question behind them.

"Ah, Comte. Sorry, I..." you glanced at the portrait once again before turning your gaze back to the pureblood. "I just got distracted..."

He gave you a smile, assuring you that it was okay. He too then turned his head to stare at the painting. There seemed to be something in his expression. Longing perhaps? For his first resident to return? Hope that he wasn't gone?

His eyes made their way back to you, slowly, as though making sure not to miss anything out of the corner of his eye.

"I assure you, the painting is simply something that was gifted to us from a... An old friend. It doesn't have any magical properties." His face twisted into mild disgust at the mention of his old friend. "Would you mind my asking as to what made you think that?"

You paused for a moment. you didn't want to seem crazy. Sure, the door was magical and you were in a mansion of vampires who also happened to be historical figures that have been dead for longer than you'd like to recall but moving paintings? This wasn't a Harry Potter book.

"Oh, nothing. It just seemed plausible in my head considering everything else that's happened. I just wanted to make sure that there would be nothing else to startle me, I guess." Your response seemed somewhat farfetched, something that a person would think up on the spot but Comte didn't pressure you into giving any further explanation. You had had a long night and day, for that matter.

Upon realising that you could see him, that you could seem him move even in his trapped state, a plan formed in Shakespeare's mind. Perhaps it was the desperation that made him to through with it but, as you and the count turned away, he called out to you.

"Wait!" He'd had to confirmation that you could hear him speak but he had to try. "I bet of you, please wait!" He could almost cry in joy when you turned back to him.

He had to be quick, it wouldn't take longer than a few seconds for Comte to wonder why you'd stopped.

"Come back here! When they have all fallen to sleep, return here! I wish to speak with you!" You gave an almost unnoticeable nod, dazed and hesitant but it was still there.

A flurry of emotions flowed through him at that moment. He had no reason to trust that you would come but he did. The hope, the happiness, the sheer joy that he felt was incomparable to anything else he'd ever had the pleasure to feel in his life.

He watched as you walked on, the sorrow of moments previous forgotten to him. He had hope. Something he hadn't felt in what felt to him like a lifetime but it was there and he wasn't about to let it go.

Tags: @a-chaotic-dumbass @otome-scribbles @laito---sakamaki @vcl-1807 @shad0cat @alby-rei @rurifangirl @daisiesandshakes @lucyw260 @simplycuriouscourage @namine-somebodies-nobody @shameshomalo @101waystobeadumbass @itzsunset and @yanderepuck because Shakespeare <3

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The One Where YN Meets Will.

Hello, hi!

I’m Emily, I’ve had this blog for a few months now and I’m not sure what I want to do with it, apart from reblog gifs of Will and catch up on all things Youtube and the Eboys and the Sidemen and all that. Thought about giving writing a go, since I’ve done some before on another blog for another fandom, and this came from my brain as an attempt at writing for WillNE.

I am willing to take requests or write anything that anyone wants me to write about, if anyone would like one written for a specific idea.

Hope you like it. x

A consistent buzz came beside her.

Rumbling on top of her bedside table, her phone laid overturned and ringing with an incoming call from someone, charging on the thick Stephen King book that she was halfway through reading, ripples rolling over the surface of the water in the tall glass placed next to it, that she took to bed with her the previous night. She glanced at the salt lamp, small and jagged-looking and emitting a dull orange glow behind the sunlight that streamed through her windows, and gave herself a tut for leaving it on overnight; she couldn’t remember leaving it on although she couldn’t help but give a mental clap at how truthful the benefits of having a Himilayan salt lamp had been.

‘MUM’

The three letter word flashed at her in bold text, above a candid photo that someone had taken of her and her mum in a heart-to-heart chat in the middle of a family barbecue that had taken a turn once her father had found the alcohol stash in the garage and turned a casual family get-together into a night where everyone stumbled over the front doorstep on their way out. A heart-to-heart conversation that had them both smiling brightly at one another.

“Mum, hi.”

“Hi, darling.” Her voice sounded so soft, so sweet, inviting and warm and YN missed her more than anything; if she had anything to say about moving miles away, she would always give the advice of making sure distance was something you could handle. “You sound tired, did I wake you? I thought you’d be on your way to work by now.”

YN looked at the red numbers on the screen of her alarm clock, reading 7:45, and she had a tiny freak-out for a brief moment before she came to the realisation that it was her day off and she wasn’t due into work until after the weekend had finished.

“You did, yeah. I’m not due at work today though. They gave me the day off since my boss’ schedule is just meetings out of town today. He’s up North for conferences and such and it was late notice for me so he didn’t mind me not accompanying him. I wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway,” YN clarified and she used her free hand to push herself up from the mattress. Her hair was knotted and pillow-messed, sticking up in all directions and falling loose from the ponytail she’d thrown it up in before she fell asleep. Her t-shirt twisted around her middle which she adjusted with her fingers, bringing her knees to her chest and staring out the window as the sun continued its rise in the horizon. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t fuss about me,” she heard her mother tut from down the line. But YN couldn’t help but fuss over the two of them; if she lived closer to them, she wouldn’t worry so much because they’d be just a short distance away if they needed her help. But she didn’t live close and she hadn’t done for almost two years; she lived almost 300 miles northeast of where she used to live with her parents and it wouldn’t take her more than twenty minutes to tend to their needs. “We’re both fine, stop worrying yourself, darling. Your dad’s been back doing his gardening so he’s out there already. Watering his flowers, spraying fertiliser, cleaning all the fox poo up. He’s been growing some veggies in the plot next to the greenhouse so you can take some back when you next come to visit.”

YN smiled to herself, bringing her shoulders to her jawline before dropping them and relaxing against her headboard. The back of her head resting against the plush velvet, coloured a clean white, and her toes curled into the sheet beneath her, her fist clutching the duvet as she brought it tighter to her body.

“You can always send me some in a box? Or you could come and visit and drop them off yourself? You know I’ve got the spare room in the new place if you want to come up for a weekend. It’s vacant, just full of my empty moving boxes and bags that I haven’t gotten rid of yet,” YN said, a yawn creeping up her throat that she hid with the palm of her hand, “I need dad’s handyman work to come and help put some shelves up. You’ve not seen it yet.”

“Your dad said it’s a lovely flat. Lovely view. Lovely building. But, you know what he’s like when it comes to describing things. Everything’s lovely,” her mother snorted and YN laughed softly; her father had always been vague and she’s pretty sure that she’d never heard him use any other word to describe something other than ‘lovely’. “We’ve been talking about paying you a visit.”

“Please do. It’s a little lonely here by myself. I’m yet to meet new friends or have a chat with the neighbours. Everyone’s either back in Cornwall or back in Hackney and both are a hefty distance away.”

YN had never considered herself as an introvert so to call herself lonely felt strange.

She was always the friend who asked for the bill, she was the friend who made the complaint in a restaurant when a plate of food came back wrong, she was the friend who made advances on blokes in pubs and clubs because her friends were too shy to go and introduce themselves and she was the friend who always carried the responsibility of making polite conversation with people in pubs when they needed a table to perch themselves at. She was that friend. So making friends with strangers and starting conversations with her co-workers and approaching others who she found had kind features was never something she struggled with.

Moving to a new place and having to make new relationships and form new bonds, regardless of how far it was from the bonds and relationships you already had, she found it daunting to start fresh.  

“What are you doing today?”

“I’m not sure. The weather is really nice and it looks warm out so I might go and explore Canary Wharf and see what’s around. I need to do some shopping, food and furniture, so I might do some of that,” YN rolled onto her side and let her cheek rest against the cold side of her mattress, the backs of her thighs exposed to the cool air of her bedroom as her t-shirt rose up her body; and she made a mental note to buy herself so proper pyjamas because knickers and an oversized t-shirt could cause more problems than expected. “We’ve got a lovely grass area outside the block of flats so I might sit out there, soak up the sunshine, read a book and eat some lunch. I don’t know. Might see how the day goes, I have a good feeling about it.”

“Go exploring. You can find some places to show us when we come to visit,” and YN smiled.

“I’ll do that. You’ll love it mum. This place is amazing. I feel so lucky to have been given something as beautiful as this. I had a crack den for my first flat so this feels like a dream,” she stared at her ceiling. There was no yellow tint from how the previous tenants smoked inside and there were no unusually coloured stains on the ceiling’s coving that caught the eye because of how a stain of that colour shouldn’t have been there, leaving the mystery of just how it got there… and YN didn’t need that kind of stress over something like that. “It doesn’t smell like pee, there’s no syringes outside and there’s no sign of vomit or shit stains on the floor because it’s all laminate.”

“You deserve it, darling. You really do.”

“It’s clean, mum. It came clean, it smells clean, it looks clean. Everything looks brand new and,” YN pauses for a moment, rolling onto her stomach and she sighs with content, “I love it.”

*

After hanging up, she contemplated getting up and getting dressed for the day.

It felt rather tempting to stay in her comfortable loungewear and enjoy the silence, the time to herself and the time off she had been after for so long, taking advantage of Deliveroo and ordering food for breakfast, lunch and dinner rather than cooking something homemade and having the leftovers the next day (or for when she woke up in the early hours with a hankering for something to nibble on, because she could, because she didn’t have an authority figure to tell her no).

By the time her phone call ended with her mother, it was a little over forty-five minutes later and her alarm clock showed a time that she didn’t want to see on her day off; 8:35am. She expected another hour or two added on to her usual sleep schedule, to make a difference to the usual 6am alarm call that had her detesting her job just a tiny bit, but it wasn’t frowned upon because she’d take any given opportunity to speak to her mother. The one person she called her best friend because she really was the only person, apart from her father, that she’d drop anything and everything important for. Her sleep didn’t matter when she got to her the voice of someone she missed so dearly.

Porridge and fruit, a colourful array of strawberries and blueberries and bananas and cranberries in her bowl, and a warm cup of tea had been her breakfast as she caught up with the lifestyle Youtube channel she had been in the loop with. A Youtube channel that she had been a big fan of from the moment she moved to London, one who she turned to in times of need, one that she stumbled across when googling aesthetically pleasing ways to decorate a flat because she really needed to do something about how her Hackney flat had looked before a lick of paint and a hanging plant, one that she continued to view and like and followed tips from, even when it came to her new flat.

“Don’t be afraid to like monochrome and definitely don’t be afraid to follow a colour scheme that might seem ‘out there’ and in your face. If you like lime green then go paint a portion of your wall that colour. If you like the brightest shade of pink then go mad and add some colour to your life. You can never feel more organised than when your surroundings follow a consistent pattern that brings immense amounts of joy when you enter.”

The young girl on her screen, with space-buns either side of her head and an outfit that definitely came from a trendy thrift store clothes rail, sat before a wall of a delicious shade of peach that YN thought looked lovely; not for herself, because she’d stuck with the whites and the greys and the blacks that her flat already consisted of, but perfect for the young twenty-something year old.

“There are loads of websites where you can buy hanging plants, or artificial hanging baskets, and hanging canvas prints and wall art. I’m always looking for new things to buy so I’ll link some of my favourite online stores for you to check out; hit my Instagram mentions up with photos of things you’ve brought, too. That’s what I love to see.”

YN’s spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl in front of her as she pushed it away from her, reaching for her television remote and turning off her Youtube app, her television turning off completely and leaving a black screen behind. The flat falling silent. She looked around her, drumming her fingers against the tabletop, eyes squinting as the sunlight streamed through the wall-to-ceiling windows and made everything feel bright..

As much as she warmed to the idea of staying inside and ordering furniture and decor for her home, scrolling through online stores to buy something she thought she needed but really didn’t need, she had a good feeling about the upcoming day.

*

“Listen, love, I’m not sure if you could tell but I’m not exactly a people person. I don’t know you, don’t want to know you, have no plans to get to know you. You might live in the building but that doesn’t mean we need to be friendly.”

He spoke with such vigour in his voice that YN could only keep quiet so as to not entice a negative reaction out of him in such a confined space because confrontation was something she was never comfortable with. Sure, she’d endured confrontation before but that was from people she had been acquainted with, the ones she was friends with, people she saw on a daily basis and from people she worked with, from those who were supposed to confront her when something was wrong or hadn’t been down in a way it was supposed to be done; her boss, mainly. This man was a complete stranger, someone she didn’t know,someone she’d never seen before so instant regret filled her veins. She thought he looked friendly enough to start a quick conversation, to make the lift ride seem a little less boring, filling the empty space with general chit-chat.

Cowering away from him and almost closing in on herself, even though his attention stayed focused on the screen of his phone as he scrolled through a social media app, she thought he’d finished with her and she hadn’t expected him to perk up anymore.

“Not everyone likes to chat to strangers.”

“Well, I like chatting to strangers so don’t mind him,” a quirky Geordie accent perked up from behind her, her posture adjusting at the sudden appearance of someone behind her; she’s sure she didn’t see anyone else in the lift, apart from the towering bloke beside her, when she stepped into the lift but, then again, he was tucked away in the corner with a cap on his head and she had been looking at the floor as she entered because a mark on her white shoe had caught her attention. “Come chat to me, if you want. Promise I won’t bite your head off like matey-boy there.”

Her trainers squeaked on the floor as she spun around, eyes raking up and down his figure so she could get a good look at who the voice belonged to, almost staking him out in a way. He was a handsome chap, with brown hair sticking out from beneath a black cap upon his head that he’d pulled quite far down his forehead, a cheeky grin on his face that made the mood in the lift much brighter. There was a graphic print printed on the front of the black hoodie he had decided to throw on, the commonly-known Adidas stripes lining the length of his joggers, trainers on his feet with the laces loose and almost untying by themselves (clumsy, she assumed he was, because there’s no way he wouldn’t trip over them as soon as they loosened completely).

“I’m Will. Will Lenney.”

“I’m YN.”

“Do I get your surname? S’only fair since I told you mine.”

She laughed softly and replied with her surname, a look of appreciation on his features as he held his hand out for her to take, which she gladly shook with her own. Skin so soft, fingers so delicate, with a hold so strong that she couldn’t find herself letting go. She didn’t want to let go. This was the first contact she’d had with someone new, in a month of being new to the area, and it just so happened to be with someone she found rather attractive to the eye.

The bloke from before, who had tore down her attempts at being the friendly neighbour who he would, no doubt, see quite often, couldn’t help but let out the strongest sigh of annoyance. A sound that brought them back to reality, hands falling from their hold, dropping back down to their sides with a faint rosy-look on their cheeks that didn’t come from how warm it was. A sound that made the both of them turn their noses up, that made them their eyebrows scrunch on their browlines and made them want to really throw words at him until he gained some manners. Yet they ignored him because he wasn’t worth the time.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he started, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder that had slipped with the movement of his arm falling down to his side. His fingertips and right down to the middle of his palm still felt heavy with the thought of her hand still in his. “I’d remember such a beautiful face.”

The heat already on her cheeks reached boiling and she knew her flushed look caught his attention. His smile turning into a grin which had her looking at her feet, shyly. A handsome lad with a sense of immense charm about him; she liked him and it wasn’t typical of her to form an attraction at such an early stage.

“Yeah, I moved in about a month ago. Floor 10, right at the end of the corridor. A proper upgrade from where I used to be located but thanks to my work, they moved me from my previous office block to my current office block in Canary Wharf and said they’d move me closer if necessary,” she thought she was rambling and she expected a look of faint annoyance on his features that would silently tell her to shut up. She picked at the loose string hanging from the hem of her t-shirt and twirled it around her finger, looking up from her feet and seeing a look of intense concentration on his face, enticing her to carry on. “The move was necessary. Completely necessary. It wasn’t a nice place where I was before, it was the first thing I saw on the website and I was desperate for somewhere to live. If I stayed there, I would be half an hour away otherwise.”

Canary Wharf.

It was a complete upgrade from the streets of Hackney and the dingy flat she had become so accustomed to for a little less than a year; the smell of weed and tobacco would fill the corridors and hit her in the face when she left her front door, the lights were always dim and flickered and the lifts were rickety and untrustworthy, discarded bikes and scooters and old prams and baby-carriers littered the space between one end of the hallway to the other, suspicious figures dressed in black hoodies and grey joggers always greeted her with stone-cold faces and squared-up jaws. An attempt, she guessed, to look like they were the typical hardnuts of the complex and that they weren’t to be messed with, even if it was just a polite ‘excuse me’ to pass them by and to be out of their hair within a moment.

It wasn’t all bad, regardless. Her neighbours were sweethearts, they always said hello and invited her in for cups of tea and a slice of cake after she finished work, most people were kind and warm and had their own back stories as to why they chose such a place to live - she could only imagine that the building was a nice place to live, with residents who took care of themselves and the place they lived in, before London gangs took over and were on the high of increasing and before drug dealers became more frequent on the streets - and her life, thank god,  was never bothered. No one intervened, no one found her life to be their business to spread and life felt normal; she had a home, somewhere to live, somewhere to sleep and eat and shower and feel warm and cosy in a bed. Even if it wasn’t as nice as she had wanted it to be, she had somewhere.

Her new flat was almost dream-like if you compared it to what she lived in before. It made her Hackney flat look like a pit; a drug-den, if you will. She could wake up to pure sunshine filtering through double-glazed windows and there was no chance that she would be rudely woken up in the middle of the night from the ghoulish moans of the wind getting trapped between cracked window panes or the drunken yells of people stumbling down the hallways back to their homes. She could walk to her new place of work rather than hop on public transport and she could take the time to explore a side of London she never had the chance to see. Her floor was laminated wood, heated when the nights were cold, and there were no stains of garishly and disgusting colours of god-knows-what from previous tenants who had lived there. The view was beautiful, she could see right to the end of the horizon, and the scenes she was greeted with on her arrival home were almost picturesque… except pictures could never do it justice.

She’d been there for a month.

A whole four weeks.

And she could already feel improvements in her lifestyle that weren’t so bold before. She woke up happier and didn’t feel the need to stay in bed for a lie-in, she felt happier during the day and had a bob in her step that brought light to her office block, she felt safe when she walked out the reception and into the open space by the entrance and didn’t feel like she would be jumped by hiding predators if she arrived home late at night. She was friendly with her neighbours, always popped round to give them any post that had been posted through her mailbox by accident or if deliveries were left with them when she’d been at work and always started a conversation with them when they stood waiting for the lift to arrive on their floor.

“Oh, nice. What is it-”

The ding of the lift stopped Will mid-sentence, silenced them and halted their conversation as the doors opened to reveal the reception floor, empty and desolate from people. It was mid-morning, almost lunchtime, so YN had assumed most were working or out in the streets of London to enjoy the sunshine; the latter being what she had planned to do.

The man from the lift, who had tucked himself in the corner and stuck earphones in to block out their conversation, made sure he was the first one out and disappeared before YN could give him a sarcastic goodbye, not that he would have heard her anyway so she settled with a wave, a really exaggerated and over-the-top wiggle of her fingers, and hoped he saw it in the reflection of the window as he left and disappeared into the mass of people walking by their block of apartments.

“You’re a right character, you,” Will admitted, nudging her with his elbow and smirking at her, “what is it you do, job-wise? That’s what I wanted to ask.”

“I’m a PA for a CEO at an advertising company. A personal assistant who runs and gets coffee for everyone, gets lunch during her lunch-break, who organises meetings and creates schedules and gets the big boss what he wants when he wants it,” she clarified, “it’s not exactly the best job and I wish I was doing something I wanted to do but it pays well. For now, it’s enough to get me by and keep this place.”

They started walking toward the automatic doors of the entrance, feeling the cool air of the shade on their exposed skin that definitely disappeared as soon as the sunshine hit them, coming to a stop just by a brick wall. Young children were running around with their parents walking behind, cyclists were dinging bells to pass through large groups and groups of university students were huddled on the grass, eating lunches they’d brought from restaurants on their way, backpacks discarded and being used as pillows as they laughed and joked. Tourists were taking photos and posing to show off where they’d been and what they got up to when it came to showing their friends back home and businessmen and businesswomen were almost speed-walking to get back to their offices in time with a styrofoam takeaway lunch in their hands.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? Just tell me to piss off if I am.”

“No, no. Don’t be silly. I’m only popping round the corner to see my mate. He won’t mind if I’m late,” he said, perching down on the brick wall and patting the space beside him. The legs of his ankles rose up to show the white ankle socks he’d paired with his trainers., “What is it you want to do as a job? Just, the way you talk about your job now makes it sound like you don’t like it.”

“I do like it there. But I don’t want to be a personal assistant, running round London to get coffee and sandwiches, for the rest of my life. I’ve always dabbled in blogging, taking photos, talking about nonsense and stuff. Posting videos and vlogging, too. I’ve tried it out as something fun, documenting holidays and stuff, and I’d love to do something with that and take it further but... I don’t know,” she sat down beside him, sliding her bag off of her shoulder and setting it on her lap, arm looped underneath the handles to keep it from spilling the contents inside, “I don’t want to be a social influencer but someone who does what she wants to do and gets by by just being herself. No companies to promote her or anything. Nothing to boost her. All her,” she stared off into the distance, tapping the heel of her foot against the concrete. Will nodded. “What do you do?”

“I, uh,” he scoffed out a laugh and rubbed the nape of his neck. His hat fell from his head and he decided to swap the shade of the cap to the sunglasses he had hanging from the neck of his hoodie, “funnily enough, I post videos on Youtube. I’m a Youtuber.”

Her head whipped round and she gawked at him. Eyes wide, mouth agape and her hand found his forearm, squeezing it tightly with excitement.

“You’re not?”

“I am, yeah. I was in university, didn’t like what I was studying, and I was told that if I really felt strongly about this Youtube malarky then I should pursue it to its possible potential and see where I end up. My mum’s words, not mine,” he snorted. He felt her hand loosen around his forearm and he watched her face become rigid as she came to the realisation of what she’d done. He dismissed it because he didn’t want to embarrass her but, really, he didn’t mind and he found it endearing.  “I’m not that big or popular or anything but I’ve got a couple million subscribe-”

“Not that big,” she mocked and rolled her eyes, “a couple million subscribers is huge. I’ll have to search you up. What’s your channel name?”

“WillNE. Like, Will then an N then an E. Like a-”

“Like a play on words with your surname,” she grinned as she proudly finished his sentence for him and he nodded, rather pleased with himself; and she had to give it to him, it was something special, unique and rather creative than some of the stand-out names she could think of from the platform. Some were really out there and had no relevance to who they were nor what they spoke about, some were vague and some were almost as bonkers as the people who came up with them. “That’s really cool. This is really cool. A famous Youtuber lives in my flat complex... I’m talking to a famous Youtuber right now... heck, I’ve managed to keep my cool around someone famous and I’m amazed I haven’t embarrassed myself. Wait till I tell my friends about this. They won’t believe me.”

“They’re not fangirls or anything, are they?”

“No, ha. If anyone’s the fangirl out of my friends then it’s me. I’ll find myself watching Youtube when I’ve got nothing else to do,” she admitted, “cooking dinner? I’ll stick someone on to watch. Can’t sleep? I’ll just binge watch someone until I’m tired. Day off and there’s nothing to do? I’ll find a channel and just let it go from there.”

“Maybe I’ll pop up on there one day. I’ll help cure your boredom,” Will grinned, “then you can say ‘hey, that’s one of my mates there on my telly, that is’.”

A comfortable silence swallowed the both of them as they sat and let the seconds tick by. The tweets of the birds came from above, distant chatter came from the students lounging on the grass behind, scuffs of soles signified people were walking and jogging nearby and despite the feeling of time coming to end between the two of them, neither of them wanted to leave the other, neither wanted to bring the conversation to an end and neither of them wanted to part ways.

“So, we’re mates, huh?”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Will smiled. Eyes locking with hers for a brief second, long enough to catch the twinkle in her eye and the genuine smile that lifted up her lips, “you’re a good’un. I like you. I think we’ll get along really bloody well, me and you.”

*

(WILL’S TEXTS. YN’S TEXTS.)

Filming a video tomorrow. Fancy coming by?

Won’t I get in the way?

Bollocks will you. Come along. Please. You can see firsthand how to make a Youtube video since you said you’ve always thought about it.

Where?

Only at my place. A TWOTI.

This Week On The Internet… nice one. I’ll be there.

You’ve done your research on me!

Spent all day googling you. As soon as you walked away, I started my research and I cut my day short so I could come home and watch your videos. Just call me a superfan now.

Superfan, ha.

I’ll have to test you. Could get you in a video to see if you’re my biggest fan.

Try me. I’ll get full marks. Your subscribers will look like phonies compared to me, hahaha.

You might have to sit off camera, out of shot, tomorrow. If I don’t finish everything by the time you get here, that is. No distractions. No pulling faces behind the camera.

I’ll be on my best behaviour. I’ll fangirl at the door, drop my Twitter handle into conversation, ask for a signature and a photo and then I’ll be fine.

I’m not going to regret this, am I?

You won’t hear a peep out of me. Promise.

Come by after lunch then. We can get some takeaway for lunch or something, if you don’t eat before, and I’ll have some bits filmed by the time you get here so you won’t have to sit in silence for too long.

Make it 1pm and it’s a deal.

Why 1pm?

It’s Saturday tomorrow. I don’t get up before noon on the weekends. Not even for you, mister big-shot Youtuber. ;)

And here I was, thinking you would throw your routine away for your new best mate.

Nice try.. see you tomorrow, William.

Ohh, serious. Full name and all. I see how it is, YN.

Goodnight, you muppet.

See you tomorrow. x

Stitched Together part 1

The creature/Adam x fem reader

Frankenstein AU/ Modern Frankenstein

Warnings: brief mention of suicide, death, and body horror (a little)

Summary: The reader is a mortician and a friend of Victor Frankenstein. After receiving a strange message from Victor, the reader finds herself with a lot of unanswered questions and a new roommate.

A/n: Yay! I wrote something! Sorry I didn’t finish the drawing, but I’m satisfied with it, mostly, lol. Anyways, I’m pretty excited about this story. Enjoy!

Tags: @rusticup​ @luna-xial​

This was insane, in fact, it was by far the craziest stupidest thing you had ever done in your life, but here you were standing out in the rain, in the middle of the night, with no flashlight trying to pick a lock. 

Yes, technically you were breaking and entering, but you had to know if Victor was alright. Rationally, you probably should’ve called the cops, but you weren’t exactly thinking rationally right now. For all you knew, he could be laying on the floor, clinging to life somewhere in his lab. 

God, you were going to feel like an idiot if everything was fine and you were just overreacting.

You blinked in surprise when you heard the lock finally clicked. 

Pushing the door open, you gasped as you entered Victor’s lab, immediately upon entry you were assaulted by a foul stench. Using your shirt, you covered your nose and mouth. 

It was too dark to make out anything, except for the occasional flash of lightning that lit up the room for a brief second. 

“Victor?” You called, feeling along the wall until you found a light switch. However, after flipping the switch nothing happened. 

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath. With shaky hands, you reached into your pocket taking out your cell phone. 

The small light didn’t reach far, only illuminating a couple of feet in front of you, but at least you could see a little.

His ‘lab’ was an old warehouse he was renting. Why he needed such a large space was beyond you. Victor was very secretive of what he was working on, deflecting your concern with vague answers. Very few people were even aware that he was renting this place to use for his experiments. 

With your small light, you scanned the area nearest to you. 

The warehouse was an utter disaster. There were notes with anatomical drawings littered everywhere, furniture tipped over, and broken shards of glass scattered on the ground. 

From the state of his lab, you could safely assume it had been abandoned. It appeared as if Victor left in a hurry, or as if it had been ransacked. 

Neither option gave you much comfort and just brought you more worries. This warehouse, those drawings, all the notes were Victor’s life work, and his work meant everything to him. 

From the moment you met him, all he seemed to care about were his studies. He spent all his time here, rarely slept, and only left for absolute necessities. He even lost the lease on his apartment, so he could continue to afford the rent for the warehouse. 

“What the hell happened?” You whispered to yourself. What had Victor been up to? Why did he disappear? Where was he now?

...

Victor had become an acquaintance of yours through a mutual friend. 

You were a local mortician who lived near the university your friend was attending. You often mingled with various professors and graduate students, because of it. 

Victor had been part of a graduate program to become a doctor before he dropped out. Amongst his colleagues, Victor was known for his peculiar curiosity of death. Upon discovering your friend’s relationship to you. 

Victor practically demanded him to arrange a meeting between the two of you. 

You were able to answer most of his questions, having more expertise on the subject than his peers. At first, his questions seemed innocent enough, but as you continued to get to know Victor the more strange and morbid his questions had become. 

You chalked it up to his youth and his ambition to learn. Not to mention, at the time, you didn’t really question his odd fascination with the subject. 

In all honesty, you almost welcomed his straightforwardness and his interest in your work. So many of the people you met always skated around the subject of your job, or visibly cringed anytime you mentioned the morgue. It was very refreshing to be able to talk about your day without having to worry or freaking someone out.

In a short time, you became friends with Victor. You checked in on him frequently, dropped groceries off at his place hoping he’d take a break and eat something, but 

Then suddenly he fell off the face of the planet. He stopped visiting the morgue. He didn’t return any of your calls. Weeks passed before you received a rather cryptic voicemail from Victor. 

What he said in the message didn’t make a lick of sense, he just rambled on and on about how he had finally figured it all out, that it had to be done tonight, and that it was all thanks to you. 

You had tried calling him back several times but each time it went straight to voicemail. 

...

Letting out a long sigh, you hoped you would find the answers to all your questions. 

Steadily you took a few steps forward, and slowly moved the light your phone provided, scanning your surroundings. You frowned as you stepped in something wet, the squelching sound underneath your foot was rather unpleasant. 

Looking down, you covered your mouth and stumbled backwards. Dropping your phone in the process. 

“Oh God!” On the floor was a pile of discarded limbs in a pool of blood. “What the hell did he do?”

You noticed a familiar tag hanging off of a toe in the pile.

“He didn’t,” you thought out loud. “He wouldn’t...”

You shook your head and closed your eyes tightly. He used you, he got close to you so he could learn about the morgue. God, how did you not realize it? 

A few weeks before, around the same time Victor seemed to disappear, several bodies were taken from your morgue. You reported the break in when you arrived to work the morning after. You couldn’t imagine why anyone would steal bodies. 

Feeling an overwhelming mixture of disgust, betrayal, and stupidity, all you wanted now was to leave this nightmare and report your findings to the police. 

Grimacing, you bent down to pick up your phone wiping the screen off with your sleeve.

Lightning flashed, and suddenly, you heard a loud crash, as if someone had bumped into something metallic knocking it to the floor. Your head whipped around to the direction of the sound, “Hello?”

The silence that followed was somehow quieter than before. You stared out at the vast darkness, waiting for a reply. 

“Victor?” You called, rising to stand. “Anyone there?”

Once again there was only silence. You used the light from your phone as you proceeded to search. 

Your brow furrowed as you discovered various machines you didn’t recognize. They were large, with all sorts of wires, cords, and coils. In the center, was a surgical table covered in blood. 

As you studied the scene before you, from the corner of your eye, you saw movement. Without thinking you pursued whatever it was. 

You managed to corner it, watching as the creature withdrew into the darkness, cowering on the floor.

You shined your light on the shadows to reveal a man huddled in the corner. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his arms curled over his head. 

As you got closer, the man curled further into himself even more, shrinking down as far as he could. He flinched back, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Oh, sorry,” you murmured, lowering your phone. “Is that better?”

Slowly, he moved his arms down. His yellow eyes watched you cautiously, but he gave you no indication as to whether he understood anything you were saying. 

Crouching down to his level, you noticed that he was completely nude. Long strands of greasy black hair hung in front of his face. His skin was pale and sickly looking.

You wrinkled your nose as you noticed the stitches all around his wrists, then the ones on his forearms, shoulders, neck, knees...

Slowly reaching out, your fingertips lightly brushed against his arm, feeling along the stitching. Upon further inspection his skin appeared thin like paper, and almost transparent with a bilious yellow tint to it. Underneath, you could make out clearly, blue and green veins all over his body. 

Your teeth clenched and your stomach dropped, as you started to realize what Victor had accomplished. 

This poor man and those poor people he used for his experiment, they were all victims of the careless ambition of Victor Frankenstein, a foolish boy trying to play God. 

The creature trembled under your lingering touch like a scared rabbit.

“Are you cold?” You asked him, without thinking you stood up faster than the creature cared for, who flinched and shrunk away again due to the sudden movement. 

“It’s alright,” you cooed, reassuring him as you would a scared child. You made a conscious effort to make your movements slow and fluid as you searched for something he could cover up with. 

You spotted a thin white blanket on a cot that was in the corner. You figured Victor was probably sleeping here after he lost his apartment. 

Returning to the creature, you slowly knelt down once more and offered him the blanket, but he remained still. It was unnerving how he kept staring at you, but you doubted he meant you any harm. The poor thing was simply so frightened that you couldn’t hold it against him for being so wary. 

“Here,” you murmured as you gently placed it around him. “Isn’t that better?” 

You smiled, as he clutched the edges of the blanket and wrapped it around himself tighter. 

Slower than last time, you stood up again. “I’m y/n,” you introduced yourself offering him your hand. “Would you like to leave this place with me?”

This was crazy, but you didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t just leave him here alone, he had already been abandoned once in this dark cold warehouse by his negligent creator. You couldn’t do that to him, he seemed so helpless. 

Shyly, he accepted your hand and rose to his feet.

Looking up at him you couldn’t help but gawk. The man towered over you. He didn’t appear to be so large when he was cowering in the corner. 

“We’re going to my house, okay?” You shared with him giving his hand a light squeeze. Still holding his hand, you led the way out and back to your car. He moved awkwardly and walked with a slight limp, so walked at a casual pace. 

Reaching your car, you adjusted the passenger side seat moving it back, to make more leg room so he could sit comfortably.  Helping him into the car, you buckled him in. 

You didn’t say much on the drive. It all seemed so surreal, like you had been dreaming. Even when you arrived home and he followed inside it still didn’t seem real. 

“Home sweet home,” you chirped, opening the front door and turning on the lights. You guided him inside and kicked off your shoes . 

Finally, seeing him under some better lighting, you realized how dirty he was. He was covered in all over with some kind of filth, mostly dirt and blood you assumed, but you couldn’t be sure. 

“You need a bath,” you announced. Walking into the bathroom, you turned on the faucet, allowing the water to warm up before putting in the stopper. 

Once the tub was full, you guided your guest into the bathroom. Gently, you took the blanket from him and discarded it on the floor. 

“Get in,” you gestured to the bath. “It’ll be alright. We just need to get you cleaned up.”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping in and slowly sinking down. He held the sides of the porcelain tub with a tight grip, as if he were to slip he’d drown in this shallow tub. 

You couldn’t help but giggle over how endearing he acted. Getting on your knees next to the tub, you gently started to wipe off the dried blood on his face with a washcloth. 

Despite the discoloration of his skin and the unnerving yellow of his eyes, he was handsome. He had a strong jawline, pouty lips, high cheekbones… you shook your head when you noticed you had been staring, not that he seemed to mind. 

His own eyes were busy moving, looking at everything, taking in all of his new surroundings. It was kind of cute how awfully skittish he was for such a large person. 

You couldn’t imagine what he was going through, or even what was going through his mind. As much as you hated Victor after discovering what he had done, you were still aware that this man was just the product of it, not the cause. He didn’t ask for any of this. 

As you began to wash his arms and chest, that’s when you noticed a familiar scar on his wrist. One of the bodies Victor had stolen was of a young man who had taken his own life. 

It always broke your heart when you had cases like that, not that your job was a happy one and that you didn’t care for the other people who ended up in your care. It was just that you often wondered what sort of pain were they feeling that ending their own life was a better solution. 

You recognized a few more familiar body parts, but what rattled you was how the creature’s face and a few of his other limbs weren’t familiar at all. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out where else Victor could have gathered parts for his experiment. They would’ve needed to have passed away recently, they were probably taken from a nearby location...

You shook your head, none of that mattered right now. The only thing you should be worrying about is this strange man, who was sitting in your tub patiently waiting for you to finish.

Once he was clean, you helped him out of the tub allowing him to lean on you for support so he wouldn't slip on the tile floor. He seemed to still be figuring out how to move correctly, as he kind of moved in a disjointed fashion. 

Grabbing a couple of towels, you wrapped one around his waist, and then led him to your living room and had him sit on the couch. With the other towel, you leaned in front of him and dried his hair, arms, and chest. 

He tilted his head to the side as you dried his face, his eyes focusing on you. Unexpectedly, he caressed your cheek, you lowered the towel and smiled at him. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told him, before getting up and  heading into your bedroom. 

Digging around your closet you tried your best to find anything that would fit him. Sadly, the best you could do for now was letting him borrow your bathrobe. You laid it on your bed, so you could change into something more comfortable. 

Stepping out of your room, your heart almost jumped out of your chest, as you came face to face with your guest, who was waiting patiently outside of your door. 

“Sorry that took so long,” you laughed, recovering from the slight scare. “I found this for you to wear for now. Tomorrow, I’ll try to figure out how to get you some actual clothes.” 

You covered your mouth hiding your smile. The poor dear looked ridiculous. The silk robe barely reached above his knee and the sleeves ended at his elbows, but at least his private bits were covered. 

Now that he was clean and dressed, you wondered what else he needed. Was he hungry? thirsty? Was he bored? 

“Do you need anything?” You asked, knowing there was a good chance you wouldn’t get any kind of response. He simply just looked down at you. 

You bit your lip, as the two of you just sat there in silence, side by side, on the couch. Hopefully, he’ll learn to talk or perhaps find another way to communicate with you. You weren’t sure how long you would be able to care for him if not. 

“Well, I’m feeling a little hungry, so I’m going to get us a snack,” you explained standing up.

He watched your movement and then followed you to the kitchen, similar to what he did earlier when he was waiting outside your bedroom. The creature stood outside of the kitchen and watched as you prepared a couple of cups of tea and grabbed a pack of cookies for the two of you to share. 

You felt a dull ache in your chest as you realized that him following you around, was probably out of fear, scared that you were going to leave him.  

Gently, you placed your hand on his arm and tried to comfort him, “I promise, I’m not going to leave you.”

Carrying your snacks into the living room, you turned on the TV, putting on one of your favorite movies and started eating. The creature sat next to you, and watched carefully as you took a few sips of tea. 

He didn’t seem all that interested in any of the cookies even after you offered him one, but he did pick up his cup and repeated what you had done, including blowing on it before taking a sip. 

You tried to focus your attention on the movie, instead of worrying about the crazy day you just had. This was usually your way of unwinding, having a warm cup of tea and watching a little TV before bed. But your eyes kept wandering over to the creature. 

You frowned at yourself, referring to him as the creature was wrong, even if it was just in your head and not out loud. The poor guy needed a real name.

Resting your chin on your hand, you mulled over different options, making an imaginary list of names, and trying to decide which one suited him best. 

Lost in thought, you were surprised when he suddenly yawned, in fact the action seemed to startle him too. He looked over at you wide eyed, causing you to laugh lightly. He probably hasn’t slept since being created.

“C’mon,” you started, getting off of the couch and taking his hand. “It’s time for bed.” 

You led him into your room. “Here,” you said, pulling back the comforter on your bed. “You can sleep here for tonight.” 

He climbed into the bed, his feet hanging off of the edge. Despite his size, you couldn’t get over how small he acted, how timid and afraid. 

You brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, and caressed his cheek, “Good night, Adam.” You smiled, glad you finally picked a name for him. 

As you started to walk away, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. Adam looked up at you with pleading eyes. 

He didn’t have to say anything for you to figure out what he wanted, since meeting him it seemed that all he wanted was not to be alone again. 

“Oh, alright,” you relented, approaching the bed. “But just for tonight.”

Adam shuffled to the other side making room for you. You crawled into the bed, and turned off the light on the nightstand. 

Laying down, you realized how exhausted you actually were. Before passing out, you felt Adam’s hand finding yours, his fingers curling around it and holding it gently as you fell asleep.

buckytony for the ask game?

1. Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Tony frequents the coffee shop. Bucky has been working at Bean True to Yourself (the owners are hipsters) for the last three years, trying to put himself and Steve through college because while they both got scholarships, it wasn’t enough and Steve’s health doesn’t let him hold a study job. Bucky has gotten pretty good at latte art actually. Only Natasha knows that it’s because he’s got a crush on the cute brunet with the messy hair and Bambi eyes that comes in sleep-deprived every single morning and probably doesn’t even notice the hearts Bucky puts in his lattes.

Tony definitely notices and it’s only because he’s spent so much time in the spotlight that he doesn’t blush every single time he sees the new art. Besides, he remembers when he first started coming here and the latte art was terrible. Bucky’s probably just testing out his artistic skills on Tony cause he knows he won’t judge him. There’s no feelings involved, right?

2. Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Tony has come to the conclusion that the only way to get Howard’s attention is if he puts absolutely no effort into anything at all, which is why he’s currently taking graduate-level courses as Edward Carbonell but Tony Stark is failing out of high school. Any attention is better than no attention, right?

And maybe it helps that his teachers come to him after class and suggest that he find himself a tutor and did you know that Bucky, Mr. Gorgeous himself, works in our tutoring program? I’m sure he’d love to help you, Mr. Stark. Okay, so maybe they don’t call Bucky gorgeous, maybe that’s just Tony’s own mind, but it’s not like he’s wrong. But Tony gave up on school a long time ago and Bucky has a motorcycle and wears leather jackets and is super popular all while having straight-A’s. There’s no way he even knows Tony’s name, let alone would ever like him.

3. Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

Bucky isn’t entirely certain how he ended up as a supervillain’s sidekick and he definitely isn’t sure that he really wants to be there but he won’t deny to himself that the best part of the job is facing off against Iron Lad while Captain America and the Black Widow are fighting each other for control of the Deathstick of Destiny or whatever it is this week.

Iron Lad’s just so cute with his sense of justice and his wit and the conviction that he and Bucky are destined to be nemeses for life. And one time, a building fell on top of them and Bucky got to peel him out of his compromised suit and that was the best thing ever because he got to see Iron Lad’s flight suit, which accentuates the most perfect ass ever. Seriously, Bucky just wants to reach down and squeeze but he’s pretty sure that then Iron Lad might actually use the unibeam that he’s been threatening to use for ages.

4. Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Oof, Bucky does. He comes back from HYDRA to find a world that’s absolutely a bigger mess than he remembers it being and maybe that’s those rose-tinted glasses Sam keeps accusing him and Steve of wearing but he looks at Iron Man, taking out the ultra-wealthy and distributing the money back to the people, and then he looks at the Avengers and how they keep causing more property damage than they can fix and decides that he knows what side he wants to be on.

He slips out of the compound in the dead of night, unnoticed by all except Natasha who just wishes him luck, and tracks Iron Man across two continents and an ocean back to his secret hideout - in Latveria of all places, who knew that Doom could share? - knocks on the door and when a man with the prettiest brown eyes Bucky has ever seen answers the door, Bucky announces, “Hi, I’m here to be a villain.”

In retrospect, he decides as he’s dragging a fainted Tony inside, that might not have been the best way to introduce himself to his future employer.

5. Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

The thing is, Tony knows that soulmates aren’t always perfect. His parents were soulmates and they absolutely hated each other. But Ana and Jarvis were soulmates too, and so is Aunt Peggy and Uncle Daniel, and they loved each other very much, so even though he’s been alive for almost 40 years and never once met his soulmate, he still has high hopes.

Bucky fell from the train without knowing his soulmate and the only thing he can thinks is Good. They won’t wind up with someone like Bucky, someone who has nightmares from his time as a lab experiment, who kills people without even blinking, whose main purpose in life is to be the shadow that dogs Steve Rogers’ heels. But then he wakes up.

And then he forgets he ever even had a soulmate.

The next time Bucky remembers anything, it’s 2014, he’s in a glass room (cage, really), and there’s someone standing with their back to him outside of the cage, doing something on a tablet.

“What’s it gonna take to let me out of here?” Bucky asks.

The person jumps, turns, and then a slow smile spreads over his face. “I don’t know, how about dinner?”

Fuck.

6. Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Harley’s got a protective streak a mile wide (Bucky thinks he’s learned it from Uncle Steve), which is why Bucky isn’t surprised when Harley comes home with a black eye and immediately proclaims that it wasn’t his fault, there were these two big kids picking on a younger girl on the playground.

“Oh yeah and here’s this, I guess,” Harley mumbles and shoves a piece of paper with a phone number on it in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky holds an ice pack up to Harley’s eye and asks, “What’s this?”

“Mr. Stark’s phone number. I said I wanted it in case Peter wanted to play but he seemed nice and looked like your type and I’m tired of you going out with jerks who don’t like me so I got it for you.”

Well, leaving that aside, “Who’s Peter?”

“Morgan’s brother. He’s in my class and he helped when he saw I was helping her out.”

Right, like that explains anything. He dials the number, intent on seeing if this Peter can tell him the full story, only for someone to say, “Stark residence, can I help you?”

Bucky doesn’t believe in love at first sight (er, voice) but whoever it is has got such a pretty voice and he kind of wants to hear them moaning his name so he purrs, “You sure can, doll.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised when they make an offended sound and hang up.

7. Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

“Mr. Stark, please, I’m begging you, wear PPE when you’re working in your lab.”

“But then when would I get to see you?” Tony chirps, seemingly uncaring that Bucky is setting his fingers.

“At dinner,” Bucky says before he can think better of it.

They both freeze. Then Tony slowly says, “And that’s okay?”

Honestly? Probably not but Tony has been coming to the ER for months for his lab-related injuries and Bucky is always his doctor and they always end up flirting and he’s tired of this back-and-forth. So when he’s done splinting Tony’s fingers, he raises his hand to his mouth and brushes the softest of kisses over the back, smiling when Tony gasps.

8. Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Howard Stark is convinced that someone is out to get him, his wife, and his son. He can easily take care of him and his wife but Tony recently moved out of the mansion, insistent on making his own way in the world so surreptitiously, Howard hires Bucky to keep an eye on Tony by moving into the apartment next door.

It’s probably the easiest job Bucky has ever had because Tony almost never leaves their building, too caught up in his projects as he is. He gets food delivered and sometimes, he has friends over but otherwise, he’s pretty much a recluse.

And that’s a damn shame that is because Bucky has really only seen Tony twice so far and both times have about knocked him flat out on the floor.

9. Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Crown Prince Anthony Edward Stark, first of his name, heir to the throne, would like everyone to know that he absolutely did not sign up for this, no way, no how. Just about everyone on the ship though, sees it when he gives Captain Barnes what he obviously thinks is a secretive wink. And they all know that they’re going to hear it when the captain and his “captive” go below the deck that night.

Sam scratches his head awkwardly and looks over at Admiral Rhodes on the other ship. “You want to come over?” he calls. “They could be down there for a while.”

Rhodes sighs and crosses over. “Chessboard still set up?” he asks.

“Nope, Nat had to move it for one of her poker games. But I remember where the pieces were.”

10. Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Everyone knows that Tony and Bucky are going to get married someday - except for Tony and Bucky themselves. Steve has been trying for ages to get Bucky to see that Tony is pining just as hard for him as Bucky is and Rhodes has been doing the same for Tony but they’re just...so oblivious. It makes Natasha want to bang her head against the wall - or maybe just lock them in a closet.

Except Clint tried that, right after Tony gave Bucky his first kiss when they were fifteen and Bucky just thought it was because they were friends. They’d been in that closet all night and when Clint finally opened the door in the morning, they were snuggling but still not together so he thinks they’re just too oblivious. There’s a school-wide betting pool on if they’ll get their act together before graduation.

(It’s okay though because Tony and Bucky have been dating since they were freshman. They’re just waiting to see how long it takes everyone else to notice.)

Power of Antimony

An alternate ending to the Plague of Shadows. With the Enchantress defeated, Plague Knight had succeeded in creating the Ultimate Potion, only to find out he didn't need it to win over Mona, she already fell in love with him. But then things start to take a turn for the worse...

He finally succeeded. The Enchantress’ essence was finally his. He can finally begin the distillation process.

Plague Knight extended his small arms upwards, holding the incomplete potion high enough for the last of the essence to resonate with the others. Colors exploded from the containment, a fantasia for the eyes as the essences surrounded the enchantress’, colliding elegantly until they finally merged into the fabled elixir he and Mona took years to perfect.

Everything he has done has led up to this moment of triumph as the potion slowly descended into the knight’s green, sweaty hands.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he watched the colors inside change rapidly. It was perfect. Now, he can finally be strong, powerful enough to confess what had hidden away for so long. So agonizingly long. He could not help but smile as he imagined his rose-tinted future; a future where he and Mona are loved ones, betrothed, doing what they do best; becoming the best alchemists the world has ever seen.

It was perfect. Everything will be perfect!

His thoughts of the grandeur were interrupted however when the feeble knight heard metal on metal and footsteps rush his way. It was Black Knight.

“No! Stop your assault!” Black Knight pleaded. “Look! I’ve brought someone!”

After he said those words, Mona graciously rushed inside. Plague Knight’s eyes immediately focused on his blue-haired maiden, his heart softening as she ran past Black Knight and only stopped when she was a few feet away from him.

“Plague Knight! Come to your senses…” She begged. “You don’t need to go through with this!”

Mona’s statement confused the green knight. After everything they’ve done, she wanted him to just stop? No, no he was doing this for her. He is going to use this potion to become someone worthy of her love. He has to. He has to.

“Mona! You don’t understand!” Plague Knight said. “I was too weak to say it before, but now I can show you I’m good enough!”

Mona shook her head. “Black Knight told me everything.” She took a few steps closer. “You don’t need a potion to win me over. You already have!”

Almost immediately, it felt as if Plague Knight’s heart had stopped. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Mona loves him the way he is? Small, weak, pathetic him? And yet the sweet smile she gave him was all the proof he needed. Tears started to well up in the green knight’s eyes, though none were able to bear witness when it was hidden behind his mask. It felt all the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders. He felt lighter than air.

Too light.

His eyes widened when he realized when he was actually being lifted off the floor by the potion that was now starting to destabilize.

“Wh-what?” Plague Knight stuttered, his hands feeling as if they were glued to the glass as he tried to let go of the potion. “I…but it’s too late, I already defeated the Enchantress and began the final distillation!”

Black Knight cursed himself. The Enchantress wasn’t here anymore! He needed to find her before it’s too late! “I must go after her!” He went to run back to the tower entrance when he stopped himself and pointed at the two alchemists. “You two—touch nothing until I return.”

Mona raised a brow when the Black Knight disappeared into the corridor—as if things weren’t already falling apart as it is.

The essences were going out of control, colors flying in and out of the potion as it pulsed vehemently as if it was about to explode at any moment.

And Plague Knight was helpless to stop it.

“Where is all this…power coming from?” He yelled. “This wasn’t in our notes!”

Mona had to shield her eyes as the potion grew brighter and brighter, threatening to blind the female alchemist. “The essences are reacting unpredictably!” Then suddenly, the potion burst. The essences escaped in a calliope of colors before reversing their course, aiming directly at the exhausted, plague knight. She ran to him. “Watch out!”

But it was too late. The colors zeroed in on him and when Mona tried to shield him, both instantly met with black.

*****

Mona awoke to find herself on the ground, alive but weak. It felt like something ran her over with a carriage. She felt lightheaded and her knees felt weak, but she was able to get back onto her feet. It took a minute for her eyes to finally focus before she could finally absorb the area around her. But what caught her eye the most was the black mist surrounding her colleague in front of her.

He was standing there, his head and shoulders drooped, his hands twitching. The black mist completely covered him, only show his silhouette.

Mona took a step forward. “Plague Knight?”

He didn’t move nor respond to her.  

She took her chances and moved closer until she was only an inch away. She knelt down until she was eye level and reached a hand out towards him. “Plaguey?”

When her fingertips were about to the brush the top of his head, the mist vanished into the air as colors ascended from the plague knight’s form colliding once more to form the ultimate potion. Mona jumped back in surprise as Plague Knight reached up and grabbed the potion from the air, as if he hasn’t fallen under a trance just mere seconds ago.

Mona took a deep breath. “You did it! The reaction has stabilized!” She had no idea how he did it or why he was surrounded by such a thick layer of dark mist, but she was just happy he was okay. “…wow…there it is…the ultimate potion…” She looked from the blue potion to Plague Knight. “Well…are you going to drink it now?”

Plague Knight held the potion down to eye level as he gazed into the swirling bottle. “Heh. I…” Unbeknownst to Mona, what Plague Knight had seen—what he had fought—terrified the alchemist. He didn’t know what it was; his shadow, his desires, his obsession? But whatever it was, it made the Plague Knight think twice about the “Ultimate Potion” that was in his hands.

Besides, he already got what we wanted.

“I don’t…think I need it anymore, Mona.” He finally said, putting the bottle away inside his cloak pocket.

Mona smiled. “But we-“

Mona was interrupted by the tower suddenly shaking. A large explosion could be heard above them, coming from somewhere higher in the tower. Chunks of the walls and floor have started breaking and falling from above. Debris littered the floor as the two alchemists were forced onto their knees when balance seemed to be impossible with how ravenous the earthquake was.

A large boulder fell a few feet away from Mona, causing the stone floor to splinter, the cracks spreading as more large rocks started to fall and break into the floor.

“Mona!” Plague Knight called out as he slowly crawled towards her. He hobbled as fast as he could, but his large sleeves kept getting in the way. Even so he was determined to get to Mona to give whatever little protection he had from the chaos.

But he was too focused on her to see a large piece of debris heading straight for him.

Her adrenaline kicking in, she sprinted to him as the world seemed to slow down. Her long strides helped her keep balance as she narrowed the distance. Plague Knight noticed and immediately stood to his feet in hopes to embrace the rushing beauty coming his way. Instead he was shoved away just as a large chunk of the tower made contact Mona; hitting directly on the head.

Plague Knight watched in horror as his love went rigid and her unconscious body fell forward and collapsed onto the floor, hard.

“MONA!”

He ran to her and did his best to cradle her head in his lap. Blood started to drip down the side of her face from a small gash the rock had left behind. Panicking, Plague Knight tried to arouse her by gently slapping one side of her cheek, but there was no response. He grabbed a spare health potion and lifted her head, pouring a little of the substance into her mouth in hopes she would ingest it, but it wouldn’t go down.

He didn’t know what else he could do.

Bigger rocks started to fall from above, the ground becoming more and more unstable as the cracks grew bigger and were ready to break. If he didn’t do something soon, they would both surely die.

But what can he do? There’s only so much a bomb can do in this situation without making it worse, he is too weak to carry Mona, the rocks have closed the only entrance long ago…

…he can’t do anything.

Tears spilled down Plague Knight’s cheeks. His chest felt like he was being squeezed until all the air was out of his lungs. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His beak crinkled into a scowl as he wished he wasn’t such a weakling, none of this would have happened.

He wished he was strong enough to save them.

He wished he was-

Plague Knight’s eyes widened. He dug into his cloak pocket and pulled out the Ultimate Potion, it’s blue light illuminating the two alchemists. He stared hard into the swirling vortex inside the bottle.

He can use this. He can use this to make himself capable of saving Mona.

But…

The thought of that thing he had faced crawled in the back of his mind. But he can’t be scared now, he can’t afford to. Not when Mona’s life is at stake. If he has to face that shadow of himself again to save Mona, he’ll gladly do it. He would do anything to save her!

He uncorked the top and pulled out his straw and placed it in the potion. He squinted and looked into the bottle, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he slowly raised the tip of the straw to his beak.

In a swift motion he drank all it.

He placed the empty bottle on the ground and repositioned himself, so he was by Mona’s side. For the first time Plague Knight prayed that this potion would work, after everything they’ve been through it has to work.

But he didn’t have to wait long, the effects were almost immediate.

Everywhere; his head, his back, his legs, his hands…Pain. So much pain. He tried to scream but no sound came out. He could feel the bones break and reposition, his muscles tearing and reshaping, his veins and nerves on fire. He could feel himself grow bigger, his fingers growing razor sharp, his plague doctor mask breaking to reveal an identical but larger beak, yet oddly enough it seemed like his clothes was growing with him.

But the worst of it all was his back. Something erupted from his back, tearing his flesh and adding a huge weight as it seemed to stretch and grow until it overshadowed his already large body.

Then the pain stopped. Plague Knight immediately collapsed to the ground, taking large gulps of air as he tried to steady himself. His mind was in tatters from the trauma, yet strangely he had never felt more…alive. He could feel the power flowing through him, a strength he had never once carried.

Between feeling scared or determined, he didn’t know how to feel.

His inner turmoil however made him feel something flap.

He slowly turned his head to find a pair of large wings gracing his back. He gave them a test flap and let out a yelp when they responded—a yelp that was much deeper and gravelly than expected.

A light went off in his head. He could fly them out of here.

He didn’t hesitate.

When he reached down to grab Mona he was taken aback by how…small she was. But he didn’t have time to wrap it around his head when the tower began to crumble, large pieces falling, revealing the outside world as the floor began to collapse.

Plague Knight quickly grabbed Mona and held her close to him as he ran to the opening that broke open in front of them. He jumped out and the ground was replaced with air.

Gravity took hold. They started to fall. Adrenaline kicking in, Plague Knight opened his wings. Flap, flap, flap, flap, please flap! He scolded himself as he continued to fall.

It was not graceful, but he was slowing their descent until they were finally at a standstill. His flapping was very unsteady, but he was starting to get the hang of it—though he was sure if Mona was conscious right now she would probably be feeling pretty nauseous.

A large boulder barely skimmed him, reminding the knight that they weren’t quite out of danger just yet. He lost his focus for a moment before composing himself to lurch forward and fly towards the Explodatorium for the care Mona desperately needs.

*****

He needed to work on his landing.

He didn’t want to go through the front entrance, he didn’t need to deal with his minions right now—especially given the circumstances. Instead he opted for the balcony that connected to his room. In his mind he figured he would try to ease himself onto the balcony and squeeze through the door, instead he ended up crashing into his room when he quickly realized he didn’t know how to slow down.

Luckily, he was able to protect Mona from the impact and some of the broken and wood and stone that fell on him. It hurt but the pain was surprisingly dull. He felt much worse from hitting his pinkie toe on a table leg.

He was able to get up and move the debris off of him without compromising his hold on Mona. He carefully shuffled over to his bed, removed the covers and slid her underneath, pulling the sheets up to her chest before tucking her in.

He sighed. It felt like a large weight was lifted off his shoulders. They weren’t in danger anymore, they were out of that crumbling tower and back at the Explodatorium, they were safe. But now, Mona needs medical treatment.

Although Plague Knight resembled a plague doctor, he was, in fact, not a doctor and had very little to know about medical science. Luckily—or unluckily—he has hurt himself through experimentation enough to know how to at least do some basic treatment.

He pulled out a small first aid kit from underneath his bed and placed it on a side table. He opened it to reveal many bandages, a small bottle of pure alcohol, and a needle with complimentary thread.

First things first, gotta disinfect the cut. He told himself as he grabbed a small cloth and poured some of the alcohol onto it. He carefully placed the cloth over the gash. Mona exhaled through clench teeth in response.

Plague Knight’s heart skipped a beat. “Mona?”

Plague Knight clasped his hands over his beak. Was that his voice?  It couldn’t be, it sounded so wrong. It sounded too deep, too gravelly, too…

…monstrous.

Then there was a pounding on the door.

“Boss? Boss is that you?” A muffled voice asked.

“Was that explosion you, Boss?” Another asked.

Plague Knight panicked, his wings puffing in response.

“Maybe it’s an intruder?”

“Should we open the door?”

“NO!” Plague Knight lurched forward and slammed his body against the door. Realizing what he had just done, he’s lucky that the door is still standing.

“What was that?!”

“That can’t be the boss!”

“It has to be an intruder!”

“That voice is too scary to be our Boss!”

Plague Knight’s blood ran cold. His voice…was too scary? His attention went to the bathroom across from him, his reflection showing what he had feared most.

It was…that thing. He was that thing.

No, no….no, no, no…

He was a monster.

No no no no no no no no…

Tears swelled in his eyes.

“P-plaguey?”

His heart stopped.

He slowly turned his head to see Mona sitting up, looking at him, her eyes half focused; the cloth on her wound sliding off and onto the sheets.

No, she couldn’t see him like this. She cannot see him like this.

“Open the door!”

“Open the door!”

Mona rubbed her eyes and she gave one long look at Plague Knight, her eye finally focusing. Her expression fell. “Plague…Knight?”

Tears streamed down his face.

In a broken voice he said, “I’m sorry…” Before rushing out through the hole in the wall he had carelessly made.

*****

It all happened so fast; Mona barely had enough time to register what she was looking at—Plague Knight but…bigger? With wings? Before he rushed out of a hole in the wall? The minute his figure jumped out, Mona flung the sheets off of her and staggered to the wreckage in time to see Plague Knight fly away and disappear into a forest nearby.

She called out to him but to no avail. He didn’t come back.

The door to Plague Knight’s room burst open. A small flock of his minions rushed in, bombs at the ready when they stopped in their tracks to only see Mona gazing out through a large hole in the wall.

“Where did the intruder go?” One said.

“Did it flee? Did it get scared of us?” Another said, puffing out his chest.

“Hey isn’t that the Boss’ partner?”

They didn’t get an answer to their burning questions when Mona rushed past the confused birds and out of the door. Her head pulsed as she tried to remember the layout of the Explodatorium. She still hasn’t fully recovered from her head injury yet, but she knew she didn’t have the time for that, she needed to act fast.

She needed to find Plague Knight.

She needs to know what happened.

A stray potion hit the female alchemist as she rounded a turn, leaving a small burn mark on her right arm. She hissed as she held her arm close to her, examining it only to find a small red mark—nothing too serious, but she needed to take care of it soon before it left a scar. The culprit gawked at the wounded alchemist and sheepishly yelled a “sorry” before running flapping away before.

A scowl graced her features. No wonder Plague Knight doesn’t care much about his minions. She thought to herself as she continued down the corridor. These guys are accident prone!

When she finally reached the exit, she was blinded by the sun. She paused for a moment to shield herself from the bright light before running off towards the direction she last saw Plague Knight heading.

She ran, jogging down a small trail as her lungs burned and her head continued to throb. She was not the athletic type, and she was getting more of her dues when her brain felt like it was going to explode as it is.

When she felt she was deep enough in the forest, she called out for him. There was no response, but that didn’t deter her from stopping. She slowed her pace to a fast walk as she continued down the small trail. The cover from the trees provided a nice shade for the exhausted alchemist as she trudged onward until she arrived to a small opening.

She moved a few of the shrubs lightly obscuring the end of the trail and entered to find a clearing with a small pond reflecting the beautiful, blue sky.

“Plague-“

Her eyes fell on a lone figure at the edge of the pond and she felt her chest lighten.

It was Plague Knight.

He was hunched over, it looked like he was looking at his reflection in the pond. It didn’t seem like he was aware Mona was there yet. She slowly walked over, her hand subconsciously grabbing the burned mark on her arm, it still stung but that was the least of her worries right now.

Closing the gap, she got a better look at him. His new wings were the first thing she caught, it easily towered her and him. It looked like he still wore his trademark cloak, but other than that she couldn’t discern anything else when his back faced her.

Even when she was only a few feet behind him, Plague Knight still didn’t register that she was there, it was only when she appeared by his side, her reflection looking up at him that he finally did.

“Plague Knight?” She softly called out.

The said alchemist jumped and let out a deep squeal before accidentally diving rear-first into the shallow pond. The water splashed and soaked the bottom Mona’s skirt. Her smile widened as a small chuckle escaped her lips. Nothing hasn’t changed, the poor, green knight still gets easily startled when he gets so absorbed in something; Mona had to admit it was one of the cutest things about him.

Plague Knight looked at her in shock. “M-Mona?”

Hearing his deeper voice again was like a slap to the face. Mona’s eyes widened, surprised by the voice as well but her smile never faded. She never imagined she would hear such a low pitch from the green alchemist.

Plague Knight was reminded of his predicament and immediately used his wings cover himself, not wanting to see his lovely Mona see what he had turned into.

Mona’s smile fell. “Plague Knight?”

His wings bristled. “M-Mona…I…”

She carefully swathed through the shallow pond to reach the self-conscious alchemist. She reached out and carefully touched one of his wings, feeling the soft feather on the tip of her fingers. He flinched and she reluctantly moved her hand away.

“Mona…I…I don’t want you to see me…like this.”

“Plague, what are you talking about?” She answered softly.

“I’m…I-I’m…” His voice became broken, holding back a sob. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Plaguey.” Mona assured as she subtly looked for the opening in his wings. “Just because you had a growth spurt doesn’t mean you’re a monster.”

“B-but…but…”

When she found it, she opened his wings to see Plague Knight looking down at her with teary eyes. She smiled up at him. “I told you already…you already won me over.” She closed the gap and embraced him. His breathing hitched, his arms held out awkwardly before finally returning the hug and wrapping them around Mona. He leaned into her, careful not to put all his weight on her, and basked in this moment.

He has waited for this moment for such a long time…

…it was everything he had hoped for.

It was worth the wait.

They stayed like that for a long time until Plague Knight was the first to break it off, instead opting to her hold her little hands in his. “You’re not…scared of me?”

Mona blinked in surprise until a smirk deviously crossed her lips. “Scared of you? Plague Knight you are anything but scary.”

“R-really?”

“Yes really.” She did her best to squeeze his large hands with hers in affirmation. “I love you, Plaguey. I’m afraid whatever excuse you try to give to make me think you’re not worthy isn’t going to work; So sorry to say…your stuck with me.”

Plague Knight’s couldn’t help but snort from the cringey retort, his beak widening into a big smile. “Hee Hee Hee. Oh Mona…you always know just what to say to cheer me up…”

Mona smiled. “I’ve had a lot of practice…you want to get out of this pond? My feet are getting cold.”

Plague Knight’s eyes widened as his wings fluffed up in embarrassment. “O-oh uh…y-yeah! Hee hee! We should get out of the water…”

Still holding his hand tightly, Mona led him out of the water and back over to the grassy edge. She coaxed him to sit down next to her as she poured out the water in her boots and allowed it to sit to dry. Plague Knight sheepishly watched, feeling bad that he made her walk into the pond—at least it was shallow.

Afterwards, the two gazed out at the pond, marveling the shimmer of light reflecting off the water. They don’t usually get to slow down and take a moment to take in their surroundings, alchemy is a tedious study and it can be hard to take a break in something you’re very invested in. Even so, their results always ended being something even greater than shimmery water.

Mona was the first to break the silence. “So I take it you drank the Ultimate Potion?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Was it right after I…uh-“

“Yeah.”

Mona paused for a moment before leaning against Plague Knight. “Thank you.” She whispered.

He didn’t respond, instead he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She welcomed the embrace and leaned into the touch.

“I love you Mona.” He angled his beak to lightly nuzzle the top of her head.  

The minute he paused, Mona reached up and grabbed his beak before he could have a chance to move away. Plague Knight froze and gave her a flustered look. Mona gave him a playful smile before pulling him close until her nose booped his. “I love you more.”

She closed the gap and gave him a small kiss on his beak. His cheeks burned bright red as his wings started to mildly flap in unconstrained excitement.  Mona couldn’t help but watch in amusement as Plague Knight got pouty when he finally noticed the playful smile stretched into a smirk

“You’re so adorable.” She chided.

“I’m not adorable!” He retorted, puffing his wings out.

She laughed at the cute display of anger. Her laughter was cut short however when she felt two hands lift her up into the air. “P-Plague!”

“Who’s cute and adorable now?!” He mocked as he effortlessly held her up in the air like a child.

Mona started to laugh again. “N-no put me down!”

Plague Knight gave her an exaggerated sigh—not wanting to part from his new toy—and gently put her back on the ground in a huff. Mona’s eyes watered a little as she finally calmed down from her laughing fit.

She subconsciously rubbed the sore spot on her arm, the pain resurfacing after Plague Knight squeezed her, but she paid no mind to it. Plague Knight on the other hand couldn’t help but notice. He lifted her sleeve a little to see a red spot about the size of her hand on her arm.

Plague Knight’s eyes widened. “What happened to your arm? D-did I do-“

“No, no, no! I got this earlier.” She immediately answered, rubbing the hand that lifted her sleeve in assurance.

“What happened then? It looks like a burn mark.”

Mona sighed. “One of your “minions” accidentally threw one of their potions at me when I was making my way through the Explodatorium.”

Plague Knight growled. “Those idiots, I swear…sometimes they’re more of a hassle than they are helpful!”

She patted his hand. “I’ve had worse though, this is nothing.”

He lifted her arm to get a closer look at the wound. “Still, we should soak this in cold water.”

He scooted her closer to the water and extended her arm out, submerging into the pond. Instantly, Mona felt relief from the burning sensation, dulling it to a more numbing sensation.

“You worry too much.” Mona said. “We didn’t need to do this now.”

“The sooner the better! Hee Hee!” He said nervously.

Mona placed her other hand on his lap, patting it gently as the two quietly took in the surrounding area again. Although, Plague Knight’s attention was more to her arm than to anything else.

She had a feeling of what was going on in that alchemist’s head.

“You’re scared to go back…aren’t you?” She guessed.

Plague Knight closed his eyes and hung his head in defeat—he couldn’t keep anything from her could he?

“Y-yeah…I am.” He confessed.

She leaned into him. “It’s okay to feel scared, you know. We can stay here a little longer until you feel comfortable.”

He slowly raised his head and turned to give her a sad look. “P-please?”

She grabbed his arm and nestled into his chest. “Okay.”

He hummed in relief, the rumbling in his chest a soothing feeling to the female alchemist. She never imagined she would ever fit so snugly into his lap until now. He removed her arm from the pond and dried it with his sleeve before placing back by her side. He lowered his head until it nestled perfectly on top of Mona’s head, enjoying the peaceful moment.

“Plaguey?” Mona asked.

“Yes Mona?” He answered.

“You know I’ll always be there for you…right?”

A warm smile stretched across his beak. “Yeah…but…can you still remind me? Just in case?”

A warm smile of her own reached her lips as a small chuckle escaped her. “Of course, my Plague Knight.”

Undefeated - Jeon Jungkook

Scenario Requested: Do you think you could write about the boys meeting a girl and she ends up being good at everything, even better than the golden maknae, and he’s torn on his feelings because he’s jealous but severely attracted to her, with a happy ending please? 

Warnings: None; it’s pretty fluffy uwu

This is for the lovely @worldclasscassy

When your best friend had spilled her secret and let you know that she was the sister of Min Yoongi, you laughed. As if it wasn’t ridiculous enough that she was claiming to be a sibling to such a popular group, but to compare Sana’s personality to someone like Min Yoongi was hysterical.

That was until all 7 boys were running around the apartment you shared with her. You could barely keep yourself contained from freaking out. It was easy to see them as normal people while they binged pizza and made smart comments about each other, but they were still too gorgeous not to fawn over.

“Where the fuck did you get a trophy like this, Sana?” Yoongi’s voice broke, as it went up in pitch.

Sana laughed. “You know I’ve never won anything, Yoongi. Where the fuck do you think it came from?” He glared back at her while the rest of the boys giggled. “It’s Y/N’s.”

All heads turned toward you. You could feel your cheeks burning up as you dropped your eyes to the ground.

“Y/N’s good at everything. She’s like fucking Kookie.” Sana rolled her eyes as a few of the boys (you were pretty sure it started with Taehyung and then Jimin and Hoseok joined) started a chorus of ‘oooo’s’.

“I feel like that’s a straight challenge, Kook.” Namjoon elbowed Jungkook while he chuckled.

Maybe if everyone had been a bit more sober, things wouldn’t have developed as they did. Before you could quite process it, and definitely before you could figure out who had initiated it, you were in a heated competition with Jungkook.

It started with something completely based on luck. You played rock, paper, scissors and somehow bested him every time. You could see his eyebrows furrowed together after the fifth game. You suggested dropping it, but that seemed to only push him further.

The next game the group decided you should be tested on was a video game. It was an easy round of Halo for you, considering you played it at least a handful of times throughout the week. You could practically feel Jungkook getting heated as you won round after round.

The boys were really getting a kick out of it. At the forefront was Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. Everytime you won, they would cheer your name and absolutely die pushing each other over. Your heart sunk with each win. You hated seeing the look of defeat in Jungkook’s eyes. You even tried to convince the boys that you were tired, so there was no reason to continue.

And yet, somehow, you ended up outside of your apartment ready to race Jungkook.

“I really think this is unnecessary.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you eyed Jungkook.

“Come on, Y/N! This is the first time we’ve ever had someone completely school, Kookie.” Taehyung cheered while Jungkook gave him a quick glare.

“Yeah! You are a serious legend, Y/N!”

“Beat his ass, Y/N!”

“Your ass is grass, Kook!”

You swallowed as you watched Jungkook harden his gaze at you. You felt your heart break a little as you realized the emotion his eyes. It looked like he hated you. That was when you confirmed that you weren’t going to win this race, on purpose.

&&

Jungkook felt his temperature rise throughout the night. He wasn’t used to losing at anything, but he couldn’t catch a break all night. It was funny to think back to the beginning of the night. His first thought had been how attractive Y/N was. Then, when they had started casual conversation, she had been a delight to talk with. But now … all he could think about was how he had to win.

He gritted his teeth as he listened to his friends countdown. He didn’t glance at her once it had started. He felt his heart thumping in his chest as he ran as fast as he could. There was an elation that buzzed through all his limbs as he beat her to the finish line.

His friends had a mixture of boo’s and yay’s, but he didn’t pay attention to those. He panted with a smirk as he brought his eyes to her. His smirk faltered as he watched her give him a small smile in return with a nod.

“Great job, Jungkook.” She practically muttered the words before quickly shuffling back into the apartment.

He barely noticed his friends talking him back up. He left them outside and tried to find Y/N in the apartment. He finally found her in the kitchen, watching every little move as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

He cleared his throat as she finished.

She spun around and her mouth fell open slightly. “Oh, Jungkook. Did - did you want some juice?”

He nodded. She handed him hers before reaching for another cup from the cupboard.

He was silent until she had turned around with a new cup in her hands. “You didn’t have to let me win on that last round.”

Her eyes widened as they locked with his. “You … you knew?”

He scoffed. “You were barely trying. Of course I knew.”

A pink tint rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jungkook. I just thought, I mean there was just so much teasing and I thought,” she stopped as she noticed he was grinning.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry for letting myself get a little competitive through the night.”

This was her turn to laugh. “A little?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a very competitive person. I can’t help it.”

“Well, if we’re being honest then I totally could have beaten you out there.” She snickered as his shoulders stiffened a little.

His brown eyes stared her down. He had never felt such a mixture of jealousy and attraction. It burned. On the one side, he couldn’t stand how good she was at everything. On the other side, he felt such a need to push his body against hers and remove all space between their lips.

“You’re on.” He arched one eyebrow as he smirked. He was determined to win at both goals tonight.

Vampire Academy FF pt.1

I had never been away from home this long on my own before. Although, I did run away, so that could’ve been affecting my levels of paranoia. I felt like I couldn’t sleep. Like around every corner was someone, or something, that was going to hurt me. I sat on the train and tried to just look out the window and listen to my music. I vaguely knew where I was going. The seat next to me was being occupied by a taller gentleman. He looked pretty young, but his features were…different. He looked so pale and his eyes were severely bloodshot. I couldn’t really say anything, though. I hadn’t slept in about twenty six hours so I’m sure I looked just as bad. I glanced over at him to get an idea of my surroundings and the people that I would most likely have to interact with. Unfortunately, he looked over at the same time and my dusty green eyes locked with his ice blue. I gave a quick smirk and went back to looking out my window. I felt him tap my shoulder and begrudgingly turned to him while taking out my earbuds and putting on a fake, nervous smile. “Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if you knew a good place to stay where we’re headed,” he asked. “Oh, honestly? I’m not even totally sure where that is,” I replied with a small laugh. “We’re going to Baltimore, you don’t know that?” “I mean, I do. I did. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” “Why aren’t you sleeping? I’m sure we have plenty of time before we get there.” “I just get really nervous when I travel,” I lied. “Oh, well where are you headed?” “Pennsylvania, I think.” “I’d be nervous too if I had no idea where I was going,” he said with a smile. “I have a general idea.” “Look, I have a friend that gets really good deals at hotels. How about when I call to get a room for myself, I hook you up too?” “You don’t have to do that, honest.” “You’re a weary traveler, I’d love to help.” And with that he pulled out his cell phone and went to make the call. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that he had a lankier build and blonde, styled hair. He kind of looked like one of those California hipster-surfer-type guys, but hell if I know. I looked at the people across from me and saw two more guys; one was reading a book and the other seemed to be asleep. But they both had the same pallor and bloodshot eyes as the man that just left. I started to get scared and paranoid, even more so than before. What if these men were after me? The one reading the book looked up at me and I quickly darted my eyes to look out the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move over to the seat next to me. “So where are you from?” “Atlanta,” I lied. “Really? Because this train was supposed to be non-stop from Florida.” “You only asked where I was from, not how I got on this train.” “Fair enough,” he replied with a glare. “So where are you headed?” “Pennsylvania.” “What’s in Pennsylvania?” “My destination.” He chuckled. “So, you’re a smartass.” “I’m just cautious of sketchy guys on trains.” “You didn’t seem cautious of that guy.” I looked up in the direction that he was gesturing to. “People make mistakes. I wasn’t cautious before, now I am.” I could tell he was smiling at me. He leaned in closer. I finally turned to him to tell him off, but when our eyes met I just stopped. “Why are you going to Pennsylvania?” “I need to find Eli.” What was I doing?! Why was I telling him this? “Who’s Eli?” “This guy I met back home. He left and I need to find him.” “Where is ‘home’?” “New Orleans.” Fuck, what was I doing? “Why did you lie before?” “I was scared.” “Why?” “I don’t want them to find me.” Why the fuck couldn’t I lie to him? “Who?” “The bad vampires.” He leaned away from me and quickly glanced at his friend who was no longer sleeping. “How do you know about them?” “Town legends.” At least I could bend the truth. “Legends don’t mean anything. How do you know they’re real?” “I’ve seen them.” Fuck. “Where?” “In town. They always come during the summer.” “Why do you think Eli is in Pennsylvania?” “That’s where he said his school was.” “A school for vampires?” Luckily, the blonde guy came back and the other two quickly stopped their interrogation and everyone went back to their respective seats. I breathed a sigh of relief when the blonde guy sat back down next to me. But that feeling was short-lived because soon I was under his control. He stared into my eyes. “My name is Cole. This is Damian and Alek. You’re going to stay with us for a bit until we figure this out. You won’t scream, or yell, or run away. You will stay with us until I say otherwise. Once I let you go, you won’t remember anything about your encounters with us. Now tell me that you understand and will follow these directions.” Without thinking I said, “I understand. I will follow your directions.” And then it was over, I was in full control of myself, but I wasn’t. I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind to run away and find help, but there was no part of my body that actually did anything about it. I simply sat there while the three guys went about their business. Eventually, I just fell asleep. The next thing I remember is being in this huge hotel, walking down the ornately decorated hallways. A set of double doors opened in front of me and I stepped into a massive suite. The main room was about the size of a studio apartment and had a similar layout; the sitting area was in the front, and the bed and side tables were at the back wall. Next to the bed was an archway to a kitchenette. Cole led me inside. On both sides of the suite were huge doors that led to balconies; one overlooking the courtyard to the hotel, the other overlooking the city. At either balcony were Damian and Alek, locking and chaining the doors from the outside. The entire room was illuminated by the yellow-orange glow of the sunset. “This will be our room,” said Cole. “The four of us,” I asked, taking note of the one bed. “No, my dear, just us.” “Oh, okay.” It was like I was in a trance. I couldn’t disagree or question. I was perfectly content with the answers that he was giving me. Cole walked us over to the bed and sat me down. He knelt in front of me and looked into my eyes. “I have to step out for a moment. Please stay put, get comfortable if you’d like. I’ll be back before you know it.” I lay back in the bed as he walked out of the room, resting against the oversized pillows. I kind of just sat there for a while, taking in the scenery. At one point, a maid or bellhop or someone entered the room and set my bags next to my side of the bed. I looked over at him and gave a polite smile to show my thanks. All I got in return was a disgusted look and an eye roll before he turned and walked away. Despite the shitty service, the hotel was pretty nice. The lighting in the room really fascinated me. Surely it couldn’t be that late in the afternoon, and there was no way sunlight looked this beautiful even in a room like this. I looked at the windows and realized they had been tinted, not just the typical window tinting for car windows. It was as if all the windows were tinted like sunglasses, giving everything a golden, vibrant hue. I got up and walked over to one of the glass balcony doors. Clearly, I couldn’t open it, but the view of the courtyard was astounding. It was essentially a miniature botanical garden; there were rose bushes and hibiscus and a grand fountain in the center that I really wanted to go splash in…. “I see you’ve discovered the view,” I heard from behind me. I quickly turned around and saw Cole hovering over me. “Oh, uh, yea. It’s really pretty.” “What would you like to do,” he asked tilting his head to the side. The look he gave me made me feel like the injured antelope, and he was the lion. “Honestly? I was thinking about splashing in the fountain.” “Unfortunately, I can’t allow that. They’re mad enough that I’ve brought the two idiots, when they saw you in tow they all about threw us out.” “Why can’t I be here?” “Because you’re a human. We have no use for you other than food, and since I have no plans on using you as a food source, you’re essentially useless.” I felt a lump of fear stick in my throat. “Why am I here?” He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Sweet, sweet Claire, you’re here to lead me to Court.” I was honestly so confused that all I could muster was: “Wh-what?” “Ah, I see they haven’t told you everything,” he was giving me a look of amused sympathy. “We can discuss this later. For now, let’s just relax.” I was back under his control. “Ok.” We walked over to the bed and lay down next to each other. We were on our sides facing each other in silence for a long time, seemingly forever. “Tell me, Claire, what’s it like to be in a community where humans and Moroi and Dhampirs all interact and reproduce together?” “It’s all I know. My parents are both human and I have dhampir cousins. But I have plenty of distant Moroi relatives. None of whom are royalty, but they do live amongst the Tainted.” Cole snickered at my use of colloquial language. “Yes, the Tainted: those Moroi who separate themselves from dhampirs and humans.” “Except they use dhampirs as their own personal bodyguards because they don’t know how to defend themselves. They refuse to fight, to remember the old days, how it should be.” “You seem proud of your heritage.” It was the first time I had seen Cole look…honest. “It’s all I know,” I repeated. “And Strigoi?” “I’ve never seen one. Not many people from my community have. They tend to stay away from groups like ours because they know it’d be a death sentence to mess with us.” “As a collective, yes. Individually, no.” My eyes jumped up to meet his, fear all over my face. “Don’t worry, my little Keeper. I’m not here to kill you. At least not yet; I need you first.” He smiled as if that would make it better and at first I was insanely terrified, but then I didn’t feel any fear at all. We were just looking at each other; I was looking at myself in his bloodshot, icy blue eyes, just as he was looking at himself in my dusty green. “Kiss me, Claire.” Without thinking, I leaned towards him and allowed him to kiss me. But we didn’t stop. Soon enough he had pulled me on top of him, but we wouldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop. Something was really wrong. Why was this still happening? I didn’t feel right; it was unnatural and wasn’t leading anywhere good. All I kept thinking about was Eli, how much better it felt to kiss him; his warm lips, his hands on me, the contact of our body heat. Eli, Eli, Eli, Eli…. I pulled away from the kiss in such a way that I almost fell of the foot of the bed. “Stop, stop, no! What are you doing to me? Let me go! I don’t want to be here!” I was cowering on the edge as he got up and walked over to me. I couldn’t move. “My dear, why must you make things difficult?” He had used a pet name, but there was no sense of joking or affection on his face like before. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and crept closer; I was frozen with fear. He approached me and grabbed both of my arms. I yelped in fear and turned my head away from his face, closing my eyes tightly. “Please, stop,” I whimpered, tears forming behind my closed lids. “You really need to start trusting people, Claire. I told you I wasn’t going to kill you.” And then I felt his fangs biting into my neck. The pain was quickly replaced by sense of drunken euphoria. It was amazing, and once he was done, I fell back onto the bed feeling entirely content with the situation that I was currently in. I was high. I had heard other girls, and some guys, talk about how good the bite feels, but I had never gotten to experience it myself. Now that I had, I wondered if Eli would ever bite me. I knew that we had opposing views of biting for fun, and biting for food. But how could this be wrong? It felt amazing and if he bit me, not only would he be feeding himself, but he’d be getting me high. It was basically a win-win. I soon fell asleep, probably from the blood loss, and woke up to find my neck bandaged. But the dream I had while I was out felt so real. At first it was just me standing in an empty room and then, all of a sudden, the room turned into the botanical garden in the hotel’s courtyard. The sunlight felt so nice on my skin. “Claire?” I knew that voice; I turned and saw Eli standing by the fountain. “Eli! I’m so glad to see you,” I said running over to give him a hug. Unfortunately, he quickly pulled away and his face was all business. “Claire, where are you?” “Um, Baltimore? I think. I’m on my way to find you,” I explained with a smile. “Isn’t the sunlight fantastic?” I pulled my hair to the side and Eli stared at me wide-eyed. “Claire, what happened to your neck,” he asked carefully. “I was bitten, I think. There are these guys I met on the train. I can’t leave them, they won’t let me.” “How many times have they done this to you,” he asked with anger in his voice. He took my hands and was inspecting my wrists and forearms. “It’s just been the one time, and it was only Cole.” “Cole? Who’s Cole?” “He’s a Moroi, obviously. He looks a lot different than you and your friends, though. Actually, they all do, Damian and Alek, too.” Eli looked worried. “What’s wrong?” “Claire, you have to get away from these men. You need to go back home.” “I can’t leave,” I said matter-of-factly. “Have you ever bitten someone? You know, just for the hell of it?” “What? No, of course not; that’s wrong and dirty.” “What if you liked it dirty,” I asked flirtatiously, moving closer to him. I reached to put my arms around his neck but he took a step back. “What now?” “Claire, please, do whatever you have to, but get out of there.” “I can’t fight like the rest of the Keepers, Eli. My parents never entirely believed in it so I was never taught. These guys…they’re doing something that I can’t fight. I can’t run or fight like my dhampir cousins. I don’t heal like the rest of you. I’m just human.” Eli looked at me with concern. And then the dream was over. I woke up in the hotel’s bed and rolled over to look at the door. I didn’t see Cole anywhere, but I could hear angry voices from outside the suite’s door. I got up slowly, but even that gave me a head rush. I tried to creep towards the door so that they wouldn’t be able to hear me over their muffled shouting. I finally crossed the room and was able to put my ear to the door. “She’s fine, she’s asleep,” said Cole. “She’s not supposed to be here this long. Are you trying to seduce her or something? That’s not part of the plan.” I didn’t recognize this voice but I assumed it was Alek. “She’s not a pet, Cole, we can’t keep her around for our own amusement. We just need her to get us into Court, and then we kill her,” scolded Damian. “I understand that,” snapped Cole. “I was just trying to get her to trust me. This bloodwhore compulsion bullshit only gets us so far.” “If you want her to trust you, convince her you’re her boyfriend or something,” said the unfamiliar voice. “Do you understand how stupid that sounds? We’re not actually compelling her; we don’t have the magic for that.” “Just get her high enough that the only thing she’ll want to do is stick around and help us,” ordered Damian. “The only reason she freaked out is because we only bit her once before. It wasn’t enough to get her to follow us completely.” “What? I’m supposed to just bite her every hour, on the hour?” “No, not necessarily. Just enough so that she’ll start asking you to bite her and you won’t have to force her hand anymore.” I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I was stunned, I couldn’t figure out where to go from there. I sat on the step before the door and looked at the room. I tried plotting my escape, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it. How had they bitten me before? When I was asleep? On the train? So much was going on in my mind that I almost didn’t hear the door open behind me, but I was still too stunned to react. “Claire,” Cole sounded surprised. “You’re awake, good. Are you feeling better?” He walked over so that he was crouched in front of me, looking for a reaction. I decided to try and fake my way out of this. I looked at him and smiled, trying my best to look drunk or stoned. “I’m feeling fine, why?” “You just didn’t seem like yourself earlier.” He was choosing his words carefully, wary of my current attitude. “Really? That’s strange,” I tried my best to look innocently confused.

Legend Of The Painted 「jaehyun」

genre › art to life!au ︱ fluff ︱ angst 

pairing › reader ︱ jaehyun ft. taeyong

word count › 8,327

warning › character death

The sun rose its way up to the highest point in the sky, illuminating the entire space you liked to call your home. It wasn’t the largest or grandest place, but you lived here with Taeyong and the prism glass windows which bordered along one huge wall in the living room from floor to ceiling, offered the brightest sunlight on any day and kept you warm, which was more than enough. Rent was reasonably cheap too, and for struggling college students like you and Taeyong, it was the finest you could get. It was midday, and the clock in the kitchen was ticking obnoxiously, telling you to get a move on before you would risk being late.  

“You don’t mean to tell me that you’re blowing me off for what? An art museum?”

Taeyong had never been a fan of your interest in art or even the topic itself. He much preferred for you to fawn over his music or even music in general or divulge yourself in a book; but you would prefer to sit in obscene silence and you couldn’t seem to sit still or concentrate enough on a book for long before all the words start to blur together into one big incomprehensible bubble. Art didn’t need words or a sound to be what it was, which was what you loved most about it. You could find yourself immersed in a painting in complete silence because it wasn’t telling you what to feel. Taeyong simply didn’t know what made you so fascinated by the topic and found it a rather boring thing to be desirous of.

It wasn’t just a mere topic to you though. It was a form of life.

“I am, and I’m going to continue doing it until you learn how to deal with it, or God forbid, join me.” You spoke out, not even sparing him a glance though you could tell there was a look of betrayal on his handsome features. There always seemed to be one on his face whenever you spoke of art, as if one day you would pack your bags and leave him for it. But there was slim to impossible chances of that happening, for you loved him entirely too much for that.

“Are you coming back for dinner at least?” Taeyong asked, which made you turn to finally spare him a look.

The tote bag which you held in your right hand fell out of your grasp and onto the couch when you saw the jilted look on his face and rushed to throw yourself into his arms, offering comfort the only way you knew how. He gladly welcomed you and breathed in your familiar scent of neroli and oranges, telling himself that he was overreacting because art couldn’t magically come to life and steal you away from him.

“I can’t promise anything. You know what I get like, but I’ll try babe.” You offered a smile, pulling back to look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes. The pleaded look he gave almost made you want to stay home and cuddle with him for the rest of the day, but the newly opened museum was beckoning your name and somehow, your heart too.

Taeyong bit his lip and nodded in affirmation, knowing there was no way he could stop you even if he so desperately tried. Sometimes he wondered if he had your heart, or if art did.  

Whenever you visited an art museum or saw a new painting that had recently been hung up on the pristine white walls of the Seoul Museum of Art, or even a local exhibition held by members of your community and high school students, you often found yourself completely immersed in the art for hours on end – you’d only be pulled out of the trance when a security guard came to inform you of the closing hours, or when you’d finish sketching an imitation of the painting for references that you’d put to use later when you got home.

“Eat without me if I’m not back by seven. I love you, Taeyong.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Taeyong parted with you after placing a chaste kiss on your cherry red tinted lips, wiping the stain off when he realised after your sly chuckle. You blew him a kiss in return, walking backwards until you reached the door and slipped on your dirty white sneakers.

There was a new museum opening up today near your crummy apartment, and you had been anticipating it with high expectations ever since you found a notice posted through your door informing you of its building hours and how it might get quite polluted and noisy at times. The months of fine dust and drilling noises were hardly a bother when you could look forward to the opening of the gallery and have even more artwork to marvel at.

In the entire Seoul metropolitan and maybe even the whole of Korea, there wasn’t a painting or sculpture that hadn’t been visited by you. While Taeyong spent most of his time in a recording room or dance studio to create and ameliorate his music and choreographies, you were almost always out in search of a painting or sculpture to glower at. When you got home, you’d dive into your art studio that you dedicated the vacant guest bedroom to, and waste the night away, painting and sketching what you saw earlier in the day in finer details, though you would never come even close to getting it to look as magnificent.

Jung Arts Gallery was opened by a couple who were art patrons popularly known amongst art students in your prestigious university. There wasn’t a soul in the art department who didn’t know of their names and reputation, thanks to the countless times they have donated and funded different exhibitions and gifted you with an enormous amount of supplies. They never showed up in person to deliver the goods themselves, but the bundles of paints, papers, marbles, canvases and clays that were delivered always contained a heartfelt, handwritten message from them, overflowing with their kind words and earnest wishes for you all to do well and excel at artistry.

To say you were excited to see their museum today was an understatement of the century. On other days, you might’ve reconsidered going to spend more time with Taeyong, but you felt something telling you that you must go today, no matter what. And there was always the possibility that the Jungs would be there to greet their visitors, since it was the opening day and quite a special and memorable one for them to celebrate. You could only dream about being able to meet them and send your sincere thanks for everything they’ve done for your school. Without their donations, there was no way your school would’ve been able to come close of building a reputation for itself and allow a chance for students to thrive in their talents and hone their skills.

There was a rumour that went around once, about how their alleged son had attended your school and was an art major who dedicated his entire life to painting and sculpting masterpieces, but who had passed away in an unfortunate accident that was never disclosed to the public for it being much too heart wrenching. People say that’s the reason why the Jungs donate so much to your school – as a way to give what they were never able to give their son while he was alive. But you never listened long enough to hear the full gossip. They were merely rumours after all.

–

“Welcome. Please take your time in having a look around.”

A middle aged woman was standing near the entrance of a grand and pristine building, made entirely out of the finest quality of oak wood and glass windows. Her hair was tied back professionally in a low bun and it was a flattering shade of brown in contrast to her milky white skin. She wore a white turtleneck and a pair of crisp beige slacks that matched the oak floors of the building. She wore a warm smile and greeted every person who was entering through the large glass doors that towered over her nearly twice her height. She shivered after a particularly cold gust of wind passed, at the same time that a man who looked slightly older than her walked out and put his arms around her in an attempt to warm her up.

You bounded over just as he was urging her inside to keep her protected from the cold, yet she still greeted you with a friendly and welcoming smile. “Welcome to Jung Arts Gallery. Take your time to look at the art and feel free to help yourself to any of the refreshments.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jung. I’m Y/N, an art major at Seoul Arts University.”

You weren’t usually an assertive or very talkative person but you wanted to introduce yourself to her and thank her for all of the donations she’s given your school. The way she carried herself and stood at the door welcoming people was a dead giveaway of who she was, even if she wasn’t wearing a nametag or had a flag over her head bearing her name. Mrs. Jung was graceful and elegant, and she aura exuded told you that she was a highly respectable and professional woman. That much was obvious, and the spectacular building behind her was just an added bonus to her endowment.

“Ah, yes. It’s lovely to meet you too. Are you here to see the art?” She asked, the gentle smile still on her face and if it was anyone else, you would’ve thought it to be fake, but she was truly genuine.

“I am. I’ve been looking forward to this day for months.”

“I see. Will you be here for long?”

“Probably until the closing hours. I tend to get lost in the art sometimes.” You smiled sheepishly as you scratched your head. Mrs. Jung nodded to herself, allowing her husband to pull her into the building. “Feel free to stay as long as you’d like. We can talk over a cup of tea afterwards.”

Nodding, you bowed respectfully to her and thanked her for her kindness before making your way into the first area of the building which was brightly lit by the sun’s rays and LED lights and had high ceilings windows, similar to the ones in your home. Paintings of sceneries and mountains were in this room, and it looked to be the most popular. Although you haven’t seen the other ones yet, more than half of the room was filled with observers and a small circle around each of the eight paintings, so you gave each one a brief glance and made a mental note to come back when it was less crowded. Regardless, they looked amazing from what little bits you saw and you were highly looking forward to coming here again.

The next room was similar, but there was only one window and five paintings. They were portraits. You recognised one to be of Mrs. Jung, another of Mr. Jung, and the three others you didn’t recognise. One of them was a painting of a young man though, pictured to be around your age and he looked breath taking. There was only three other people in this room, all absorbed in the other paintings and leaving you to stare at the young man in peace and solidity. You were almost sure that you let out an involuntary gasp, mesmerised by his handsome features and the detail of the painting, so much so that it rivalled Taeyong’s looks.

Getting reminded of Taeyong, you looked away from the painting to grab your phone and shoot  Taeyong a text that you wouldn’t be home for dinner, almost completely sure that you would be joining Mrs. Jung for that cup of tea which she offered. It would be a delight and absolute honour if you could chat with her and learn about all of the art pieces in this gallery and you’d be a fool to pass up the once in a lifetime opportunity.

When you slipped your phone back into your bag and switched it off to avoid Taeyong’s bombarding messages that were almost guaranteed to come with his protective and sappy side that was missing you dearly, you looked back up to marvel at the painting again only, it was gone. Disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times, thinking that you were just seeing things from lack of nutrition or sleep but it was to of no avail. There wasn’t even a painting in its spot to replace what you had seen, or a plaque stating what the painting was of, of who it was.

“Excuse me, but are you okay? You’ve been staring at the wall for quite a while.” A gravelly and considerably deep voice spoke, and you turned around to answer only for your breath to completely hitch and die in your throat, leaving you speechless. He was the man in the painting.

His hair was styled the exact same way as in the painting – gelled up and parted to the side slightly, with wisps of hair falling down in front of his forehead. It was a light brown colour, and his skin was milky white and crystal smooth, not even a speck of a blemish aside from the dots of freckles that were scattered from his nose and across to his cheeks. They weren’t blemishes, but somehow added to his ethereal look, making you briefly wonder if he was real. His lips were red and plump and when he smiled unsurely at you, dimples appeared on the sides of his mouth in a magical manner, again, adding to his surreal and stunning look. His eyes were a warm brown colour, similar to Mrs. Jung and somehow, the sunlight was shining in directly from the sole window in that moment, illuminating his orbs and making them the prettiest golden colour that was utterly indescribable.

“Do I have something on my face? That’s why you’ve been staring for so long, right?” He spoke, and you held your breath, too dazed by his beauty to speak a word.

“Are you real?” You blurted, eyes blowing wide when you realised what you said aloud and getting embarrassed. The young man laughed, and you found yourself marvelling at him yet again. There was no way he was real.

“I’d hope so.” He amused, grinning at you as he shuffled awkwardly on his feet. He scratched the back of his head, and you noticed how pretty his hands were too – adorned with silver rings on almost every finger, which were slender and thin, with perfect nails too, not a trace of a bad habit to be seen such as picking on the skin around the edges or biting his nails.

Taeyong often bit his nails as a nasty habit and it was probably the only thing you hated about him. The thought of anyone biting their nails and leaving it ragged and unruly was unimaginable and revolting to you. Yet this man standing in front of you had nothing you wanted to hate. Physically, there was nothing possible about him that anyone could detest; envy, yes, but despise, definitely not.

“Am I interesting? Do I look like a phantom creature?” He spoke up again and raised his eyebrows slightly in mirth at your current dazed state. His eyebrows were tinted a brown colour to match his hair and were groomed to perfection, yet another thing to add to his list of perfections. This man was the human embodiment of perfection.

“It’s just that…weren’t you in the painting? On the wall?” You admitted, but as soon as the words left your mouth you realised how dim-witted you sounded. Of course he wasn’t in the painting. There was no possible way he could have been in the painting from just now. You convinced yourself that you were just tired and hallucinating today.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t come from a painting. Although I know my looks are out of this world.”

He laughed, and your heart sped up just from the sound of it. His voice, similar to his laugh, was of a gravelly and deep, baritone pitch – it was calming and peaceful to listen to, just the right tone of deep but not too deep and easily captured your heart. It wasn’t too excessive or fake. His laugh was genuine and intense, making you want to laugh and feel happy too.

“There’s no way you’re real.” You stated in disbelief, closing your eyes and wishing for him to disappear so you could stop feeling so out of your head. You opened them again and he was standing even closer to you, eyes almost in line with yours but his height wouldn’t allow him to be any closer unless he wanted to practically fold himself in half.

He was tall. Insanely tall. His legs were long and his torso was long too. His body was clearly built and well-defined, if the muscles bulging out the arms and chest of his white shirt had any say, and his thighs which were almost straining against the skin tight black skinny jeans he had on. If he was real, then he had to be a model or an actor, or maybe even both professions. Every detail about him screamed illusionary and if there was someone else in the room, you would’ve asked them to confirm his presence but it was only the two of you.

“Hmm, if you don’t want to believe that I’m real, how about this. We walk around the rest of this gallery together and you can decide by the end of it. Deal?”

“Deal. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

He laughed heartily, throwing his head back and his eyes crinkled slightly. There was no way he was real.

–

“So, what’s your name? Or will I just call you angel boy from the painting?”

“That works. Whatever you’d like, baby.”

“Okay no. My name’s Y/N. And just to be clear, I have a boyfriend. So what’s your actual name?”

“You can call me Jeffery.”

Jeffery frowned at the mention of Taeyong, looking mildly unpleased but you chose to ignore it and move on, looking at the paintings which were hung up flatteringly in a straight row across the room. They were still-life paintings, mostly of different kinds of food and you found yourself growing hungry, completely forgetting about the fact that you skipped breakfast and lunch to make it here to the opening on time without being tardy. And you were way too excited to be able to stomach anything regardless.

“Do you like art?” Jeffery asked in curiosity after a few moments of silence. He had never been one to keep quiet and preferred to talk, unlike you.

“I do but painting especially. I’m an art major too, but I’m not great at many aspects, just enjoy it.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing. It just takes some time to find the right mediums.”

You snorted, “if it takes my whole life then sure. Guess I can live with the ‘if I’m trying, one day it’ll work out’ mindset. Do you?”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m horrible at art but my paintings are somewhere between bordering on being boring and just right. I love painting the most too.”

“Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Sketching.” He stated simply. There was no reason to elaborate, and you didn’t push because you couldn’t sketch anything for the life of you either.

You wandered into the next room, where a single grand piano was placed in the centre and there was no windows. A painting of the piano was framed and placed on top strategically, but the rest of the room was empty and the walls were bare, as if to draw attention and focus to the instrument as the centrepiece. It was shining and glossy, reflecting the bright light that was above and in the ceiling, and the keys were cleaned to be flawless, not a speck of dust or fingerprint to be seen.

“Do you know how to play piano?” Jeffery asked you, to which you shook your head.

He gestured for you to sit in the leather stool and reassured you that it was completely okay to do so. Reluctantly, you sat down on the plush leather and placed your hands on your lap in a shy manner, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Put your hands on the keys, I’ll teach you how to play.”

You shot him an apprehensive look, not believing that it was appropriate to do this in the middle of an art museum and if he even really knew how to play. But then again, you haven’t found a single flaw or shortcoming on his body and probably even in his talents so trusting him on this couldn’t hurt.

“Trust me. I’m close with the owners and they put this here for people to enjoy some classical music. I was a top class pianist back in the day, baby.”

You snickered, laughing at the way he smirked and cocked an eyebrow in an attempt to feign confidence. “Sure you were. Show me what you’ve got, Jeffery.”

He stood behind you, hands ghosting over your arms just above your elbows as he moved them up to rest on the grandeur black and white keys. Your nimble fingers pressed down on a key experimentally, startling yourself when a low, resonant note played, echoing around the entire room and you were thankful no one else was around. If locals saw you with another man in this position, it wouldn’t be your brightest of days and Taeyong definitely wouldn’t be the happiest. Jeffery placed his hands over yours eloquently, his large hands almost twice the size of yours.

His hands cupped over yours slightly, as if moulding them together and they fit splendidly with each other, like they were made to be together and intertwined. Taeyong never really liked holding hands.

“The note you just played is a low E. Any songs you want to try or shall I just go for it?” He mused, waiting patiently for your response, although never taking his hands off of yours. They were warm and shielding yours from the cold air that travelled around the room, and you were glad because you can never quite do anything with cold and stiff hands.

“It’s up to you.”

Jeffery’s hands carried yours fluently across the different keys, as if he knew this piano like the back of his hand and was familiar with each and every note that your finger came into contact with. The melody that the instrument produced as his hands glided with yours across the keys was harmonious and one of the most angelic sounds you’ve ever heard – as expected of an angel boy.

You both played together like that for a few fleeting moments and you found yourself wishing it would never end, but like all good things, it must come to a breaking point.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before? That sounded great.” He expressed animatedly, eyes blown wide in amazement because he had never been able to play that well, even when he was a young student who was claimed to be a prodigy. Or maybe it was the emotion and soul in the music that he lacked, but either way, it sounded better by tenfold when he played it with you just there.

“One hundred and ten percent sure. I don’t even have enough money to afford a keyboard, let alone a piano or lessons.”

“There’s a piano right here.”

You groaned at him. “You expect me to learn how to play and practice here?”

He nodded back innocently and you chose to ignore it with a shake of your head, though you couldn’t disguise the smile that masked your face. You took his hand and pulled him into the next room, which was painted black and had no windows – a severe difference from the previous rooms you had just been in. Another thing you noticed too, was the difference of art works which had switched from paintings to unique and resplendent sculptures made with finest blocks of marble and moulds of clay, painted, sculpted and chiselled to utter perfection.

Sculpting wasn’t your strong suit and had never quite peaked your interest either, but there as something resonating with you from the different chiselled and carved faces of men and women alike. But there was a strange face on each of them, embodied entirely as different people and that was very apparent, but their facial expressions were all that of sadness and longing. Frowns and downturned lips, hazed eyes and even some had visible tears in their pupils which made your heart speed up from how genuine and realistic they were, and somehow even their body language looked sad – hunched shoulders, titled heads, slumped body and as if they were caving in on themselves in sadness.

“Are you crying?” Jeffery paused to round the corner that was your body and inspect you closer, but you avoided his gaze and moved your head away from him, in a similar structure to the sculptures. “You are crying. Is it because of the sculptures?”

“No, dumbass. I have an something in my eye. I may be emotionless half the time, but I don’t cry at art pieces.”

“The tears would beg to differ.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?” You asked incredulously, frantically wiping away the tears when he looked away to think.

“Not exactly, but you’re not being truthful either, are you?”

“They’re sculptures and not living people,” you admitted, glancing around at each of them, lingering for a moment longer on the large, white marble statue in the far corner or the room. It was the furthest away from all the rest, as if separated intentionally to draw less attention, but it intrigued you the most. The features were similar to the painting of the man you saw earlier that disappeared, and similar to Jeffery’s build – large and tall, well proportioned frame that had bulky arms and equally as bulky thighs, hair styled into wisps and locks atop of his crown, and the facial features were too small to make out from where you were but they would’ve been undoubtedly striking aswell.

“They were real people.”

You turned to give him a look full of swivvet, judging the words that just came out of his perfect mouth. “And how would you know that?”

“I’m close friends with the sculptor of these statues. He was inspired by the people around him who were always happy, and he wanted to add a twist by making them look sad.”

“And would he happen to have a name?”

“He wishes to remain anonymous.”

You huffed but said nothing in return.

–

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No way am I going to believe that.” You snorted, eyes staring into Jeffery’s as you both challenged each other, playful smiles on your face in mock anger.

“It’s true,” he snorted. “All the girls loved me in high school. I grew up in America for four years, and it did me wonders in getting all the ladies when I came back to Korea.” He raised his eyebrows in confidence, as if was an attractive action but it only served to make you double over in laughter.

“What, did girls chase you around the school and bombard you with chocolates on White Day?”

“They did!” He exclaimed, mirroring your laughter and adding in his own gravelly sound that was like music from the heavens. “I received a love confession too.”

You bit your lip to contain your laughter, examining his features that were almost bursting with joy to gauge if he was lying or not. How the topic even came into discussion was a wonder to you, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. You figured it was from the sculpture you just passed which was a broken heart made out of complicated and intricate paper designs to weave in and out of each other as it flowed whenever the strings it was attached to move to create a full heart. It briefly reminded you of Taeyong, but you chose not to dwell on him because you weren’t doing anything explicitly wrong with Jeffery; you were just gaining a new companion who you’d probably never see again after you disembarked at the end of the gallery’s trail.

“So, you have a boyfriend?” Jeffery inquired, shuffling his feet as he looked around at each of the paintings that were now of animals though they were mostly pet dogs or those fish and marine animals that you find in tourist aquariums. You hummed in response, immersed in one painting of a koi fish which was swimming majestically and was of the prettiest shades of oranges, reds and whites which made the whole thing look piebald and delineate. The way the water was coloured too created a surreal feeling and made the fish look like it was jumping out rather than just swimming beneath the surface.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You tore your gaze away from the painting for a brief moment to shoot him a look, raising an eyebrow quizzically when he laughed softly.

“Nope. Never have, never will.”

You cocked your head to the side. How was someone so stunning, not taken? And he didn’t even have plans of getting with someone. If it wasn’t for his vulnerable expression right now, you would’ve pushed for reasons but it didn’t look like he really wanted to talk about himself. You coughed to gather his attention away from the paintings and to you, wearing a soft smile on your face. “Busy with work huh. Gets to the best of us.” You joked.

He nodded as if he was diffident and pursed his lips, “is it fun? Dating, I mean.”

“As fun as life can get. Makes you see the world in a whole new light I guess, because you have someone to share it with.” You proclaimed, happy with just the thought of Taeyong.

The rapper had come into your life unexpectedly, but they say that love comes when you least expect it. And there were more good than bad times with him in your entire two-year relationship, so there was nothing to really complain about. Like the man standing before you, Taeyong was too good for words and sometimes you found yourself doubting if he was even real.

“Do you love him?” Jeffery probed, and you turned around to face him yet again after you had rotated away to lightly sketch the koi fish. He was looking at you intently this time though, and his eyes held some sort of desire, as if he really needed your truthful answer.

With a proud nod of your head and a halcyon smile dancing on your lips, you confirmed. “I do.”

He turned away without another word, walking briskly into the next destination and leaving you to scramble after him.

–

The sun was finally setting and night was creeping up the country, the moon rising slowly to illuminate and bring a soft glow into each room of the gallery. Most visitors had already departed, and you saw Mrs. Jung standing by the entrance again, thanking everyone for making the time to visit and that they were welcome to come again anytime. She looked the same as earlier, not a hint of fatigue or weariness to her which you greatly admired, because truthfully, you looked like you just went to sleep and woke up again – hair in a frizzy mess and makeup smudged from earlier when you were crying at the sculptures.

There wasn’t a single room or artwork in this entire gallery that didn’t charm and entice you beyond comprehension. Each painting and sculpture was of such a high quality and skill level that you couldn’t believe the artist wanted to remain anonymous. When such skills are put out to show to the world and for people to gaze at, you’d want your name to be plastered everywhere and for everyone to know who you were, but not everyone thinks alike.

You wished you could buy a souvenir or steal away one of the paintings for your own personal benefit, but that was undoubtedly illegal and there wasn’t even a gift store built to facilitate you desires. This whole gallery was truly only for admiring and appreciating art – not a single thing costed anything and you knew it cost a fortune to build because of the grandeur demeanour of the upscale building in your expensive Gangnam metropolitan.

“So, what did you think of everything?”

You almost forgot that Jeffery was still with you after staring at Mrs. Jung for so long. But he didn’t startle you, because his voice was soft and careful as if he knew that you were in a trance from all of the new art pieces you’ve seen today. It was almost pitch black outside, but you didn’t get nearly as enough done as you would’ve liked, thanks to his numerous distractions that pulled you in and out of a daze and you’re pretty sure you talked more today than you had in an entire month with Taeyong. You really didn’t see each other too often, which was why he got so upset whenever you left him to visit an art museum. You would say it’s completely worth it this time round though.

“Everything was so magnificent and beautiful. I loved everything, but I’ll have to come back before to really take in everything, because you talk so much.”

He laughed throatily, throwing his head back. “Do you have a favourite piece?”

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying, ‘the painting I saw you in’, instead choosing to say, “the koi fish painting was resplendent. The colours were blended unbelievably well and I could get lost in those water ripples for hours. If it wasn’t for your blabbering.”

“I love that painting too.” He trailed off, and you followed his gaze to see him staring at Mrs. Jung, who was still smiling happily and bidding farewells, with the addition of Mr. Jung since the last time you were looking at her. Jeffery looked melancholic, like those sculptures you saw earlier. He wasn’t quite frowning, but his eyes held a sort of sorrow that the statues also had and you had to stop looking at him in order not to burst into tears like an overflowing water dam.

“I’d love to stay with you for hours, but I recall us making a deal. Have you decided whether I’m real or do I still look like a God to you?”

He sounded like he was amused by the whole situation, a smile parading around on his face as his eyes brightened and sparkled, making the sad look from earlier completely disappear into thin air, almost as if it never existed.

If you were being quite honest, the whole day had been so much fun and a totally new experience for you. There had never been someone you wanted to discuss art with, let alone allow them into your personal safety bubble and walk around a museum with you. They were like your sacred places and no one had ever dared to enter, but Jeffery seemed to make you want to start doing otherwise. The course of the day made the deal from this morning completely slip from your mind and you didn’t even take any time to contemplate your answer.

“I never said you’re a God, but you’re real I guess.”

“I promise I’ll make you completely sure of my existence the next time we meet, but I’m afraid this is where we part today baby.”  

You shouldn’t have felt sad at the thought of departing with him, but you did. He said you’d see each other again and he promised, so you wanted to believe him and trust his words. But words are just that.

“Are you not going to leave through the door?” You shot him a questionable look when he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off in the direction of the first room with the scenery paintings.

“I’m gonna take one last look around. You head on off though.”

“I’ve got a tea date with the owner. See you around, Jeffery.”

“See you around, baby.”

He turned his back to you first, walking slowly to the first room of the Jung Arts Gallery for one last tour and you briefly wondered if he would wind up getting locked in as it was getting increasingly late, but shook it off when Mrs. Jung approached you with the same friendly and warm smile she had given you this morning, unwavering and completely confident.

“Are we still up for some tea?” She asked you sweetly, and you nodded with enthusiasm, allowing her to show you the way but not before you turned your head back to where he had gone to possibly catch a glimpse of him again.

Somehow, you felt like you had answered wrongly about him being real.

–

Rose tea was quickly becoming your favourite fragrance and taste – it was subtle and sweet but you could taste some of the floral and fruity flavours it infused into the boiling hot water that Mrs. Jung poured into your clear mug. The deep, hibiscus pink colour of the tea was esthetical to look at and you desperately wanted to capture a photo of the glass and the tea, because you have never tried it before, but Mrs. Jung was staring at you expectantly, although she wasn’t saying anything.

“Did you enjoy the art?” She calmly asked, wisps of her hair finally falling loose from the bun she had it in earlier, and she looked eerily similar to the man you had seen in the painting, and the more you thought about it, one of the melancholic statues.

“I loved everything. They’re all fascinating to look at.”

“Would you like to know who created all of the pieces?”

You nodded eagerly and watched as she stood up and wandered off to a shelf in the corner of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. She crouched down to be level with the bottom shelf, fingers and eyes scanning over each book that was on it before she landed on the thickest one present, “aha.”

She flickered through a few pages as she walked back over the table where you were seated, smiling triumphantly when she paused on the one she was looking for.

“My son created all of the artworks you saw today. We left them anonymous as it was something he would’ve preferred; he never really enjoyed being in the spotlight and would have favoured people appreciating his talents more than his looks or name.” She explained, smiling fondly at the baby photos she had in the photo album she was bearing in her frail hands.

“I know someone like that too. What’s your son’s name?”

She glanced up at you, tearing her gaze away from the photos she was clearly fond of and smiled nostalgically, “Jaehyun.”

You were pretty sure that your breath hitched audibly in your throat and no words didn’t manage to escape, but you concealed it as best as you could. Maybe the rumours around your school might’ve been true all along.

“He attended the same university as you. Are you a second year?” She asked, leaving the book open and astray on the table as she gave you her full and undivided attention. You nodded, not sure how to speak without stuttering with your newfound revelation.

“Jaehyun was a second year before he passed away. He would’ve been graduating this year if he was still here.”

“Are all of the pieces, his?” You managed to say, eyes pleading for confirmation.

“He created one every month and gifted them to my husband and I. Our whole house was filled to the brim with his artworks, but we kept every single one. Who knew that we’d end up opening a gallery like this with all of them.” She trailed off, glancing down at the photobook again. “Would you like to see a photo of him?”

You nodded again, craning your neck slightly to share a look at the photobook with her. “This was him as a child. He lived in America for four years and we lost most of the photos in the move back, but we salvaged this one.”

It was a photograph of a young boy in a playground, wearing a striped t-shirt and denim overalls with an adorable red cap atop of his head. He had prominent dimples on the sides of his mouth, and he was chubby but undeniably one of the cutest and purest children you’ve ever seen.

“This is him a few years after we came back and he first started painting. Jaehyun was always an active child and his friends nicknamed him Jeffery when he came back from the States as he was so energetic but then he began straying from them and painting more and more.”

You stilled at the mention of the familiar name, memories of Jeffery who had led you around the gallery flashing through your mind but you brushed it off as a simple coincidence. Surely there was no way he was the same person as Jaehyun.

“And this is him when he was presented a scholarship at Seoul Arts University. He opened a letter in the morning stating his admission and he ran to us crying happy tears, claiming it was the best day of his life. I still remember all of us cheering and crying happy tears together.”

The photo showed a young college student, wearing the signature School of Performing Arts yellow blazer, white dress shirt and black trousers. His skin was milky and smooth, hair a tinted black colour and the same dimples as the one from his baby photo. Your gaze flicked between Mrs. Jung and the photo, finding an almost identical appearance and it made a fond smile bloom on your face, before the realisation dawned on you. Jaehyun graduating from high school looked uncannily similar to Jeffery, and you felt a shiver run down your spine the more you looked into it.

Mrs. Jung shut the book after a moment of awkward silence, deciding there was nothing else to show and more than likely sensing the sudden tension you created.

She peered at you with interest, but you were avoiding her gaze and looking anywhere but at her. You gulped down the rest of the rose tea that had gone cold from when you were looking at the photos, picking up your tote bag and slinging it over your shoulder hastily. Mrs. Jung followed your movements, standing up when you did. You knew she sensed that something was wrong, but chose not to pry, instead letting you go with a motherly smile and a promise for you to come and meet her again because it was a pleasure to her. She didn’t disclose the fact that you reminded her of her son.

“Thank you for today. I really enjoyed the tea and chatting with you.”

“Come again anytime, we’re always open.”

You gulped, still avoiding her gaze as you bowed respectfully, shaking her hand firmly in farewell. You turned to walk away after you accidentally met her eyes which looked melancholic and somewhat mournful. She was smiling at you, but there was a tinge of sadness that you really couldn’t bear.

But you turned back after retreating back a few steps, eyes wide and almost bulging out of their sockets. “Would you mind if I take one last look around the gallery? I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She nodded assuredly, “take your time. I’m in no rush to get home.”

–

You walked straight to the room full of the portraits, scanning around the area for a sighting of the damned painting you saw this morning that had magically disappeared right before your eyes. You wondered how you could’ve been so clueless this whole time – from a strange guy appearing out of nowhere, walking around with you through the whole gallery, teaching and playing piano with you, talking with you as if you were childhood friends to asking you if he was real. He evidently wasn’t, and you were a fool to have fallen for his charms and tricks.

As expected, the painting wasn’t there and you sighed in disappointment. There was no one else around as it was past the closing hours but you wanted to walk through and see if you could find him. Or conjure Jaehyun up in your mind again since that’s what you did from the start anyway.  You thought you were simply hallucinating and seeing things the whole time while Jaehyun was haunting the gallery, remnants of his legacy all over the gallery which he clearly wanted to be close to. Tears sprung to your eyes as you pictured the sad looks on his face whenever he talked about the art pieces or about himself, as if he was longing to live again.

The room full of the mosaics was poignantly sadder now that you didn’t have the company of Jaehyun’s ghost and spirit with you. The statues’ frowns were deepened and you found yourself mirroring their looks, remembering how distant Jaehyun sounded when he was talking about how happy his muses were, and how he wanted to add a twist to them.

You realised it was all because he was seeing his artworks again after a presumably long time and being reunited with them. Mrs. Jung mentioned how it’s been two years since his passing, so you figured he was wandering around the area for the past while until the opening and he’s going to spend his afterlife here, revelling in his art and picturing what could’ve been if he was still alive. He sounded as if he really missed working on his art, and the look he had given his mom before you parted ways was just another example of what he deeply missed.

Your heart twisted and shattered itself as you pieced it all together, and the longer you stared at the freestanding statues in all of their majestic glory, you recalled the one who was isolated from the majority in the corner – the one who looked like the painting, and who you now knew to be the infamous Jaehyun, or Jeffery as he wanted you to call him. You didn’t understand anything anymore.

With slow footsteps, you approached it with caution, afraid of it coming to life and jumping at you like the painting version of Jaehyun. It towered over you significantly, dazzling in the light and shining with a manner of sadness. You closed your eyes tightly and stretched out a hand to touch the marble, coming into contact with the cold, hard stone and not the rock-hard abs you had hoped for. If you could see Jaehyun one last time before you bid your exit, you’d be more than relieved, because even if he was only a ghost in your imagination, you couldn’t bear to leave him heartbroken and conflicted like he did earlier. Like he would every time he looked back on his works or at his loving parents who were still grieving over him.

But Jaehyun didn’t come back; because he was dead and because he was never there in the first place. The pained look of anguish and misery that were permanently etched into your mind and would surely come back to haunt you in your nightmares, was just that – a look you had conjured up.

In all the times and visits you’ve been on to hundreds of art museums and galleries all across the Republic and even its neighbouring islands, you had never been so emotionally invested in anything to conjure up your own person and imitation of a mock story. Never had you ever felt or seen something so vividly and unequivocally to tug on your heartstrings and bring real tears to your eyes. Even without Jaehyun being here, his mere presence and arts had such a significant impact.

His art would live on forever, as would this gallery. Walking through each of the rooms that had been so symbiotically designed and structured, you knew his life and his emotions would live on forever too. You had felt it first hand, and you wouldn’t know if anyone else did too, or if you would ever experience it again, but you were eternally grateful to have felt Jaehyun today.

The emotions, sentiments and passions that he poured into each and every piece of work in this building would show and tell the story of his life, and how beautifully he lived up until the very end. He wasn’t actually with you today, you realised, but you had imagined him and was able to go through his story that was revealed through his pieces of art.

Jaehyun’s name wouldn’t be spoken often, and the true meaning and intention behind each piece would never be revealed or described by its origin, but you could feel everything just from looking at each of his creations and attaching your own special meaning to them. You felt his life today, through the masterpieces he left behind.

His spirit would always be in this gallery, and in your heart. Jungs Art Gallery wasn’t just a place for pieces of artwork, but a place where Jaehyun could live on happily and in anonymity, without the fear of having to leave or having to run for the rest of eternity.

“I’ll remember you, Jaehyun.”

The Beach House - Part 1

Notes: I couldn't decide who to do my next story with, so I decided to do ALL OF THEM. This is a choose your own adventure story. There will be one point in the story where you can choose what happens. You get to choose which guy you want to end up with. You'll have to then go to the chapter that corresponds with your choice. Have fun until then!

Warnings: none

Words: 5.5k

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Shooting for Bohemian Rhapsody was coming to a close. You were both sad and relieved at the same time. This was your first big movie set and you were sad to see it end. As a production assistant, you weren't that important to the overall movie. Not like an actor or director or even a makeup person. Just someone who ran around doing the little things that needed to be done. But, the good part about your job is that you got to be friends with everyone. Especially the actors.

You got to know each of the guys fairly well. You would have small chats here and there with them, but it wasn't until a couple weeks into shooting that they actually started to be interested in you. You began to notice how each of them remembered small facts that you had told them. Small details about your life that you might have forgotten you said. But, they remembered. And it shocked you. You were insignificant in the eyes of the movie, but the people who were important also found you important.

It got to the point where you were going out for drinks with them quite a bit. Mainly Ben, Gwilym, and Joe. Rami would come every once in a while, but he had to work more than the others because he was in more scenes. You were still friends with him though, just not as much as the others.

There were times when you would be out with them and you could swear that they went out of their ways to be around you more than the other guys. Each of them did it a little differently though. Ben would always try to usher you somewhere with his hand on the small of your back. Trying to keep connected to you as much as he possibly could. Gwil would be extra sweet, making sure you were always comfortable and had everything you needed or wanted. He would check up on you both during a day of filming and whenever you went out as a group. And Joe would try to make you laugh. He would tell you jokes all the time, but when he really found out what your sense of humor was, you could tell he began tailoring jokes just for you.

You had never been the recipient of such pure affection. People who liked you for you. People who didn't care where you came from or where you were going. They just liked being around you. This was important because you had come from a rich family. Not a very well-known family, about as unknown as a rich family can get, but still very rich nonetheless.

Your entire life you were looked at through the lenses of your wealth. Sure, your parents kept you pretty grounded, but that didn't stop other people from only seeing the material things. They thought that because you came from a rich family, you must be spoiled and rude and snobby. None of these things were true, but it didn't stop them from thinking that way. Because no one really stopped to know you for you.

So, when you got old enough, you went off to college. Got a degree in film and design and headed off to LA, where no one knew you. You figured you would find some kind of job there. When you explained all this to your parents, they didn't quite understand. They wanted to give you money for a place to stay. They wanted to contact their friends who lived in LA to give you a job. They wanted to help you just as any loving parent would. But, you refused. You had lived that life for 18 years and you wanted to try something new. If it failed and you fell flat on your face, you would come back and go back to the life you once had. But, you needed to try. You thought, for the sake of your own self-esteem, you needed to be unknown for a while.

And that's what happened. You built yourself from the ground up. Taking small design jobs here and there before you could finally get a job in the movies. You had been a PA before, but not on a movie as big as BoRhap. You would call your parents every so often to tell them what you were doing and what was happening in your life, and they would be very proud. You were finally being seen without any rose-tinted glasses. So, to have these boys like you for who you really were, instead of just seeing you for your money, meant a great deal.

The night before the last day of shooting, you called your parents. To let them know that the movie was coming to an end and to ask them a question. You dialed their number and sat on your couch in your small, but cozy London apartment that you were renting for the duration of the filming. There were boxes all around filled with your belongings, ready and packed to go back home within the week. It rang for what felt like forever before your mom picked up.

"Hello?" you heard a mousy, familiar voice on the other end.

"Hi, mom," you said. You heard a sigh on the other end.

"Hello, Y/N darling. How are you?" She asked. You hadn't called her in about a week and a half so she was probably worrying about you a little.

"I'm fine, how are you?" you asked. Ready to get past the small talk and get to the important things.

"I'm just fine honey. Your father and I just got back from Berlin. Isn't that right dear?" you heard your father agree from the other side of the room. Well, you assumed. There was no way you could have known where he was. But you knew he wasn't right to your mom. "Oh, it was lovely. We just went for a nice vacation and I told your father not to do any work while we were there. But, you know him. Always on that phone talking to someone about his business."

"That's nice," You said, not really listening to her side of the conversation. You had heard this type of story pretty much every month. Your parents would go somewhere on a small vacation, your dad would promise to not do any work, and then he would always end up cutting the trip short to come home for work. You'd heard it a million times. It never bothered you though because you knew that because of his work your mom could live the lavish lifestyle she deserved. They were poor when they met and your mom was the only one around to raise you, so you liked that she was living extravagantly now.

"It was nice," she said in a light tone. She didn't care that you weren't listening. She knew you well enough to know that there was a reason for this call. "So, what's going on with you dear?"

"Well, shooting for the movie ends tomorrow and I'm really sad about it. I actually cried a little bit earlier." It was true. Just thinking about the goodbyes and possibly never seeing these people again made you weep openly. You figured if you got it all out now, you wouldn't be such a mess tomorrow. "It's gonna be hard to say goodbye. I mean, I've worked with these people for six months straight now and it's gonna be hard to say goodbye." Everything you said was true, but you didn't know why you were telling your mother all of this.

"I know, dear," she comforted. "But, all good things must come to an end." She would repeat that all through your childhood. It rang in your ears because it never felt truer than right now.

"I know," You sighed. "Oh," you remembered. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"Go ahead," she said excitedly.

"The beach house in the Bahamas? You and dad aren't going to use that anytime soon right?" It was a long shot, but you had a plan. You didn't want to stop seeing the boys. You wanted to be around them more because you felt so alive when you were with them. You wanted to have a good time with them and bring them to one of your favorite places to go, your family beach house in the Bahamas. It big and spacious enough that everyone could have their own bedroom. Plus, it was right on the beach. You just needed to take a couple flights of stairs down to it. You wanted to invite them there as a big celebration to signify the end of the movie.

You also wanted to tell them that you had money. You trusted them now and you just wanted them to know. Kind of like a reverse Cinderella. You knew that the fact you were rich wouldn't change the way they saw you because you knew their feelings were pure.

"I don't think so, haven't used it in forever,"your mother said. "Why? Do you want to use it?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just haven't been there in so long and I'd like to bring a couple friends to it." You were being as vague as possible as to not raise any suspicions.

"Alright, just tell me when you want to go and I'll get you the keys." You finished up the call with your mother. Happy that it went the way you wanted it to. Now you just had to convince the guys without letting the secret slip.

----------

After saying your goodbyes to everyone and still crying your eyes out, Joe invited you, Ben, Gwil, Rami, and Lucy out for drinks at the same small pub you always went to. You all sat in a booth in the back of the bar, far away from all the other patrons and the music that was usually blasting was at the perfect volume for dancing or talking. You guys liked this booth and as far as the owner was concerned, it was yours.

Everyone downed a couple of drinks, either hard liquor or beers or wine. Lucy was sitting next to you. She was your greatest friend and ally during all of the filming. You two had become fast friends as she was very aware of the way the boys looked at you. In fact, she was the one who pointed it out to you. But, you got her back because you pointed out how Rami gave her the same kind of attention. She would brush it off and say that he was just a friend, but you could tell that there was something else going on there.

The boys kept getting rowdier and rowdier. You had made sure to not get drunk, fearful of what you might say to them. You laughed along with them and just watched the boys interact with each other. It wasn't a surprise that you had a crush on each of them. They each had an amazingly attractive personality and they were all hot in their own ways. You would be surprised if any girl who met them didn't fall in love with them instantly.

Over the course of a few hours and a LOT of drinks, there was enough of a lull in the conversation to bring up your plan. You thought it through and you knew what you were going to say. But, that was back when you were sober. You weren't drunk, but you were definitely not sober. You slammed your hands down on the table making a louder bang than you had wanted. Ben and Joe laughed as you scared yourself with the noise. You pulled your hands away and noticed that you had everyone's attention.

"So," you started. "I am going to miss you guys, like a lot."

"We're going to miss you too, Y/N," Gwil chimed in.

"Hold on," you said, putting one finger up to halt him. He smiled at the action. "I went to take all of you on a vacation. Like a proper one." No one said anything. They all just seemed confused. "I'm not kidding and it's not the alcohol talking either. I would have said this if I was sober."

"How are you going to do that?" Lucy asked.

"I have my ways, you don't need to worry," You responded. "I want to take you all to the Bahamas." Again, silence. "Say something, goddammit!" Now that was the alcohol talking. "I just offered you all a trip to the Bahamas, my treat, and no one is saying anything."

"We don't know what to say," Joe said. He seemed suddenly sober. "Are you sure you can afford this?" I nodded deliberately at him.

"Yes, I can. And I won't take no for an answer." You almost yelled.

"I'm in," Ben replied, relaxing back in his seat.

"Me too, I guess," Lucy answered in a confused tone. Shaking her head at you and raising an eyebrow.

"Then, I'm in as well," Rami said, holding up a beer like a toast before taking a sip.

"Are you sure this won't break you?" Gwil asked being his sweet self. Wanting to make sure everything was alright and that you knew what you were proposing. You put your hand on his shoulder.

"I promise," you said looking right into his eyes.

"Then, I'll go," he replied softly, almost so faint that you couldn't hear it over the music.

"Fuck it," Joe exclaimed, attracting everyone's attention. "I'll go to the Bahamas, what the hell."

"When are we going?" Lucy asked. She was the soberest out of all of you and right now, she was the only one with a level head.

"We'll figure that out tomorrow when we aren't completely wasted," You replied. You lifted your glass in the air and everyone else followed suit. "To having a great time in the Bahamas. I'm sure it will be a vacation we won't forget." Everyone clinked their glasses together and finished off their drinks, continuing the wild night you all were having.

----------

The next day, you all met for lunch. Everyone, except Lucy, was pretty hungover from the night before. You all didn't remember much of that night, but the one thing everyone remembered was your proposal to go on vacation together.

"I promise you that was not the alcohol talking. I actually want to take you guys to the Bahamas," You tried to convince them without revealing your ultimate plan.

"Can you even afford that? We're all willing to chip in. It would be a fun time no matter who paid for it," Rami said.

"I want to pay for it. I want to do this for you guys because you all have been so nice to me," You tried to make it sentimental so they couldn't say no.

Finally, everyone agreed again and you decided on a day. You would all go home for a month, get everything settled back in, and then all of you would go to the Bahamas. You bought their tickets for them, they didn't like that part, but you insisted again. You had enough money that this trip could go unnoticed in your family's expenses. Thankfully, your mom and dad knew this was happening and they were happy that you wanted to use their money, something other parents would hate.

Over the next month, you got texts from everyone asking questions. Is there a beach close by? Is there a pool? Will we have to share bedrooms? Where exactly are we staying? You just answered them with vague answers and kept repeating that it was a surprise. You planned it out even more. You would go down there a day early and set everything up. Get a feel for the place again and know the ins and outs of it before they got there.

When the day for you to leave came, you got very excited. You had packed your bag full of everything you would possibly need and boarded a plane. While on the flight, you looked through your photos as a way to pass the time. You saw many selfies with Lucy from lunch dates you would both go on, but then you hit selfies with the boys.

The first one was with Joe. He had found a Dave and Busters near where he was staying in England. He invited all of you out for a night of drinks, food, and games. No one got drunk that night, a rare occurrence, and you all had a very fun time. At one point in the night, you ended up alone. Everyone else had gone around to play different games in the huge building and you couldn't find anyone. You decided to play a game where you needed to throw a football into different sized rings and get points if you made it through said rings. You kept trying to throw the strangely shaped ball, but you weren't any good. Only making it into one hole through a sheer miracle of it bouncing in. You didn't know it, but Joe had been walking around trying to find everyone and had seen how bad you were at the game.

"Man, you're really bad at that," You look at him and shook your head.

"Thanks," you said as the game flashed your pitiful final score high in the air for everyone to look and laugh at.

"Do you even know how to throw a football?" he asked, walking a bit closer to me.

"No, I never needed to learn." You had played a lot of sports for fun in your time, but never football. It was never a skill you thought you needed to learn.

"Okay," he laughed. "Here, I'll show you." He walked up next to you and picked up a ball from the game. "You have to put your fingers on the laces. Otherwise, you'll throw it all wonky," you laughed at his wording. "Then you pull back like a baseball and keep the tip pointed where you want it to go. And when you throw it, let your fingers roll off it," he was trying to teach you as best he could, but he could tell it wasn't really getting into your head. "Here," he said as he came around to your other side. He placed the football in your hand. "Fingers on the laces, show me." He demanded. You wrapped your hand around the ball and put the laces under the crooks of your fingers.

"Like that?" you asked innocently.

"No," he scoffed. He brought his hands over to fix yours. Touching them lightly and adjusting your hand so your fingertips were on the laces. "Like this," he said. Your fingers were in the right spot now, but he didn't pull his hand away. You both just stared at the ball until Joe snapped back into reality. He cleared his throat. "Now, pull it back like a baseball and point the tip at the place you want it to go." You pulled your hand back and Joe grabbed the tip of it. Putting his hand on the small of your back to position you a little bit. "Now, I'm going to show you what it should feel like when you throw it. So, pretend to throw it slowly," You did as he said and let the ball roll off your fingers. Joe twisted the ball in tune to what you were doing and kept it slowly spinning in the air. "See?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," you answered looking over at him. He dropped his hand down and looked into your eyes. There was a pause and you felt your heart beating faster. There was something there, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was. Once again, he broke the moment. He looked away from you and you felt a pang in your heart. You lifted your open hand and Joe placed the ball into it. "Fingertips on the laces," he clarified. You nodded and gave him a sweet smile. You swiped your card for another play and the game booted up.

You did everything Joe told you. You didn't get it in many times, but it was definitely more than before. Your final score was 500, meaning you made it in 5 times. You started to jump and down, extremely happy with your improvement. Even if it was at a significant game. Joe smiled at you as you began to giggle. He seemed lost in your happiness.

"Let's document this," he suggested. He moved over to you and pulled his phone out, ready for a selfie. He lightly placed his hand on your back as you pointed up to the score with a huge grin on your face. Joe took the picture and left his hand on your back for a couple seconds more as he checked how it turned out. Moving slightly slower than usual. When you both confirmed that you liked the picture, he pulled his hand away.

"Send me that," you commanded. And Joe did exactly that. You had saved the photo to your phone because you both looked really happy and you liked reliving the moment in your head.

The second photo was with Gwil. It had been Christmastime, about three or so months ago, and Gwilym was excited to tell everyone about a Christmas market that was coming to town. No one really paid attention to it and you felt bad about that. You liked the proposition. A Christmas market on a brisk London afternoon sounded like the perfect thing to do during the holiday season. You would talk to him about it and he would glow when he told you stories of when he used to go there when he was younger. You would smile at how he looked. Happy and nostalgic. He told you he hadn't gone in a couple years and going back would mean a lot, especially if he had someone to go with. You gladly offered your services.

"Really? You'd go with me?" He asked.

"Yeah, it sounds nice. Honestly, it sounds like a fairytale, but I'm not getting my hopes up." You replied. Gwil had been talking it up so much that you knew there was no way all of that was true.

"Alright, well then, we'll go tomorrow during lunch. Does that sound good?" He was once again making sure you were alright with the situation he was presenting.

"It's a date," you joked. You could see Gwil's face flash with seriousness. "Oh geez, Gwil, I'm joking," you laughed, hitting him on the shoulder. He gave a forced chuckle in response. You weren't sure how to read that response.

The next day, you bundled up in a jacket, some gloves, and a beanie. Ready for the cold weather you would endure for the next hour or two. Gwil eventually found you in the parking lot, wearing an overcoat and a gray scarf.

"Ready? I've got a car to take us over," he said. You widened your eyes at him.

"Fancy," you joked.

"Come on," he said with a laugh. You followed him to the car and after a short ride, you arrived at a semi-crowded plaza. There were small booths made out of wood that lined the pathways. Jovial people were talking to each other and laughing as they walked through, looking at each booth and commenting on what they were seeing. You could see smoke rising from some of the booths that must have had food. The streetlamps had been turned on even though it wasn't dark yet and the smell of fresh baked bread and pastries wafted through the air.

"Wow," you said softly. Simply seeing it all and taking it all in.

"Exactly," he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You began walking with Gwil into the crowd. Weaving from booth to booth seeing what they were offering. From ornaments to cookies. From coo coo clocks to scarfs and clothing. They seemed to have everything to fit the Christmas season. You walked with Gwil commenting on all the things that were being sold. You ran towards one booth that was particularly crowded, you couldn't remember why you ran over, but you got lost in the crowd. Losing Gwil as well. You turned around and couldn't see the tall man anywhere.

"Gwil?" you called out. People began pushing to get closer to the booth. Your claustrophobia began to set in. All these people pushing against you and crowding you made you start to panic a little. "Gwil?" you yelled a little louder. Some panic in your voice this time.

"I'm here," you heard, but you couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. There were too many voices talking at once.

"Where?" you asked. The same amount of panic in your voice as before. Then, you saw a hand burst through the crowd. You were hesitant, not sure if it was Gwil's.

"Come on, Y/N, take it," you grabbed his hand without any further complaining and he helped you out of the crowd. Guiding you through the last couple rows of people. Once you were both in the open air again, you hugged him tightly. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yes, now I am. Thank you," you said slightly out of breath. You looked up at him. You met his gaze and his beautiful blue eyes. He gave you a sweet smile and you felt like you should do something. Your heart beat faster, but you weren't entirely sure why. You hadn't thought about Gwil that way. But there was something about him saving you that made you want him. And from the expression on Gwil's face, it looked like he wanted you as well. But, the moment was interrupted by some snow hitting your face. You broke the gaze and stared up at the sky and then down to the other people, confirming that it had started snowing. Big globs of beautiful slow falling snow started to fall over this scene, making it picture perfect. You didn't want to miss the opportunity.

"Let's go take a picture," you said, slowly backing out of the hug, much to both of your dismay.

"Alright, where?" he asked, feigning happiness.

"Over there by the big tree." There was a large Christmas tree decorated to the nines with ornaments, garland, and lights. You had wanted to take a picture by it since you stepped out of the car. You both walked over to it and you pulled out your phone, trying to get a good angle so the both of you would be in the photo, but he was just too tall.

"Let me," he said with a laugh. He grabbed your phone and snapped a picture of the two of you. Smiling and happy with the tree behind you and the snow falling all around. Truly a picture-perfect moment. Your heart panged thinking about that day at the market. But, to stop thinking about it, you swiped one last time.

The third and last photo was with Ben. You had all gone out for some drinks after a hard day's work. Everyone had the next day off, so no one was worried about getting too drunk. You admittedly got a little too drunk that night. You weren't blackout drunk, but you were surely on your way there with the amount you were drinking. You were all sitting in that same pub, in the same booth. Being the loudest patrons by far. Telling stories and anecdotes that had everyone rolling with laughter. Each person took their turn buying drinks. Then, suddenly it became your turn. You were happy to oblige. As you stood up, you stumbled a bit, falling back down right into Ben's lap.

"Sorry, Benny," you slurred as you hit his shoulder. He laughed at the nickname. You moved over to the bar and, as sober sounding as you possibly could muster, ordered another round of drinks for the table. You messed with your dress, pulling it down so that you wouldn't accidentally reveal yourself to any unsuspecting patrons. There was a guy at the end of the bar who was staring you down. You had looked over at him once and gave him an innocent smile. Once you got your drinks, you walked very carefully back to the table, handing each one out to your friends. Ben moved over so you could sit by him. It was easier than trying to scooch back into your spot.

"I think that guy at the bar was checking you out?" Ben noticed. He was a bit soberer than you. So, he was a little more astute to what was happening around him.

"Was he?" you asked, looking back over at the man at the bar. He had averted his gaze elsewhere. You shrugged. "Doesn't matter," you said. It really didn't. You weren't out to find a date; you just wanted to hang out with your friends. When everyone came close to finishing their drinks, it was Ben's turn to buy them. "I got 'em," you slurred.

"You sure? It is my turn after all," He said.

"I got it," you repeated. "I'm on the end anyway." You got up and made your way over to the bar again. It was slightly more crowded this time. You ordered another round of beers and waited patiently, tapping you high-heeled clad foot to the music. Suddenly, a figure came up next to you.

"Hello," he said. It was the man who Ben had accused of 'checking you out' earlier. The man from the end of the bar.

"Hi," you said back before focusing your attention back on the bar. Again, you weren't here to find a guy.

"Come here often?" he asked. You rolled your eyes before looking back at him with a fake smile.

"Yeah, I do actually. With all my friends. They're sitting right over there," You waved at the table. Ben was the only one to see. For some reason, his eyes were already on you. He wasn't paying attention to the rest of the group. You gave Ben wide eyes saying Help me. He just raised a subtle eyebrow at you as he waved back. You turned back to the bar.

"This is a nice dress," he said before putting his hand on the small of your back. "It would look nicer on the floor of my bedroom," You turned to him and knocked his hand aside. You had sobered up at his touch. Enough to realize that this was not a good situation. But then, a different hand snaked around your waist. Ben had come up by your side.

"Is there a problem here, mate?" Ben asked. Holding you close to his side.

"No problem," the guy said. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm her boyfriend. Who the hell are you?" You knew he was doing this to help you, but hearing those words from his mouth when referring to you made your heart skip a couple beats. Ben puffed his chest up at the guy. He put his hands up in defense.

"Sorry, man. Big misunderstanding," The guy sulked off back to the end of the bar. Ben ushered you back to the table and then went back for the drinks, passing them out to everyone. He sat on the end to make sure the guy wouldn't mess with you again. Over the course of the next 15 minutes, you saw the guy move over to a part of the bar where he could easily watch you all night. You pointed it out to Ben as subtly as possible.

"We have to act like a couple or else he won't believe us," you suggested. Ben immediately wrapped his arm around your waist again, pulling you as close as he could. Your drunken brain had an idea. You leaned in a whispered to him. "Let's take some selfies." Ben shrugged.

"Alright," he responded. In your alcohol-fueled minds, this seemed like a brilliant idea. You took your phone and started to take some selfies. Ones where your head was on his shoulder, one where your heads were against each others, and then a couple of normal ones. The last one you took had you smiling into the camera and Ben looking at you lovingly. At the time, you just passed it off as some good acting. But, when you turned to him and his gaze never left you, you could feel something between you. Something you hadn't felt with him before. You broke the gaze and looked over at the guy. Thankfully, he had left.

"He's gone," you said with a sigh. Ben slowly removed his arm from you and you finished the night off. Having a terrible hangover in the morning.

You locked your phone and thought about the boys. You plan was in full swing, but you had no idea what would happen when they were all in the same house as you in such a romantic setting. You hadn't thought that far ahead. You decided to think about it later. Now, you were going to get some sleep and wait for the plane to land in the Bahamas.

----------

Part 2

Ooh SQ Prompt Please: "Cyinide? I know it burns the tongue and taste acrid." Have fun with this please haha.

I had problems on deciding how to take this oneXd One of the things I wanted to do was to take this into my Of deals, magicand secrets ‘verse but that would have made me create quite the info-dump and Ichose against it Xd I absolutely love worldbuilding but I wasn’t sure thatwould have been enjoyed as the idea I had had very little SQ interaction perse.

So, that got me thinking into a canonicalscene, one that could have had that line or one that in where I could work theline on. And that led me to Jekyll and Hyde. (Seriously, killing both at season’s6 episode 4 was a waste for me, they built up these two characters only to killthem very quickly Xd)

So…

Set in at the end of 6x04. I hope you like itanon, thanks for the prompt

A03 version

“You don’tlike it.”

Reginalooked up as Emma entered into the living room; glasses of wine in hand.Schooling her features at the sight of the blonde offering her a drink thatRegina wouldn’t have considered to be the woman’s favorite, she tilted her headas Emma shrugged and sat the other side of the couch, maneuvering through the severalboxes here and there that filled the -up until now- almost ascetic space.

Taking theoffered glass, Regina stared as Emma put hers on top of the nearby coffeetable, nerves shinning through her in the form of sparks that clung to herfingers as she brushed her hands against her thighs, movements jittery. Turningto look at her, the blonde offered a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes asshe rose her right hand, pointing at the living room as if that would explainher statement. When Regina remained silent, Emma sighed softly before speaking,her voice echoing slightly in the space.

“The house,I mean.”

Reginapursed her lips as she covered her stomach with her free hand, the movement notgoing unnoticed by the younger woman as her eyes fell into Regina’s lap. Lasttime they had been seated at the couch the blonde had been quite the differentperson and Regina wondered that, if she squinted, she could draw back the whitehair over Emma’s blonde locks, the black leather over the flowery pattern ofthe blouse the woman was wearing, the harsh angles of her cheekbones over the nervousnessshe now sported. She also wondered if Emma was doing the same with her throughstolen glances; comparing the differences she knew that were there on her, onthe way she walked and spoke, on the way she felt the Queen’s absence beyondthe bloodlust and anger.

Clearingher throat, she shook her head but stopped just as Emma’s lips curved slightly,disbelievingly.

“I guess ahouse is not something that I’d have thought that suited you.” She bit down thetip of her tongue, hating the way her back muscles tightened, just like theydid whenever her mother asked her questions, probing, examining, Regina’sthoughts. She never had had this reaction with Emma before and yet there theywere. Rising her chin, she also put the wine aside, the thud against the table’ssurface unnaturally loud to her ears. “An apartment, however…”

She didn’tfinish the sentence, but Emma nodded, subdued, and Regina thought back on thewoman that had created the house in the first place. The anger that had fueled hermagic in the same way her own had created the town they were still walking in.

She lovedher mansion, she thought, but ever since the split the place had felt as muchas a home as threateningly huge; a side effect she guessed. One of many.

Pursing herlips together, she focused once more on Emma. The blonde’s fingers had starteddrumming against the blonde’s lap and the woman’s eyes were darkened enough tobring out the specks of blue and gold rather than the green. Narrowing her own,Regina waited, curious as what could have made Emma ask her to come by,especially after what had happened hours before.

“I doubtyou have called me here for me to tell you I don’t like the house.”

Emma chuckleda little at that, shrugging and Regina thought once more on how smaller shelooked against the larger than life blonde she had met years before. Hands onher lap, shoulders hunched, the blonde looked tired, worried, and Reginapressed the still tingling tongue against the back of her teeth, her magiccurled on her throat.

“I wasthinking… on what you made me promise.”

Regina startled.She had asked Emma to go where she knew others wouldn’t be able to go becauseshe knew, just as Emma had known, that there would not be other capable ofsuch. No other who would see beyond whatever walls they both tried to putbetween them and the rest. Emma knew this. She knew this. Talking about this,however, wasn’t something they did. They reacted to things, they fought againstthem. But never talked to each other, not after all was said and done.

Herexpression gave her away because Emma closed her eyes and sighed, pressing herback against the one of the couch, the resulting squeak of the material just asloud as the glass had been at the table’s surface.

“I just…”Emma stopped and let her head hung limp for a second, blonde locks obscuringher face. Regina waited, the grasp of the red dress she still hadn’t changed fromtightening. She needed Emma into this, she thought, she needed to know that ifno other option was found Emma would be there.

“You askedme the same thing.”

Her voice,which at any other time would have been veiled with anger almost sounded as ifshe was begging and she closed her eyes tightly for a heartbeat. She knew shehad changed; the Queen had been more than her anger and hate but it was painfulsometimes when she tried to reach to the bottomless source of what had been herstrength for so long only to find it lacking. She was able to feel anger, tofeel rage, but, just like every other time she had had her heart plucked out,those negative emotions were subdued, softer now, more human, less like thetitle she had once displayed haughtily and proud.

Emma’svoice made her blink back into the present, the blonde moving slightly closerbut remaining well away from her; another change she supposed. But one that hadbeen brewing way before the split. Another one they didn’t truly talk about.

“I won’tback away from that.” Emma seemed earnest and Regina could see the sincerity onthat just like she could see and feel Emma’s magic sparkling at the bottom ofher eyes, dancing on her irises. “But I’ve been thinking.”

Impatient,Regina reached for the glass, taking a sip as Emma fiddled with her fingers,eyes lowering once more. Her tattoo peeked from the sleeve of her blouse and Reginaglanced at it. She knew the story of course, had pieced enough parts of itherself, but she still felt compelled to ask even if she knew she never would.Not in her current state that is.

“I want youto recreate Jekyll’s serum.”

Thesentence hit Regina like a punch, her lungs emptying as she gasped, surprised. Yet,when she zeroed on Emma the blonde was looking at her with her jaw locked,tense but ready.

Loweringthe glass but never letting it go, it was Regina the one who scooted closerthis time, enough that she could see Emma’s neck muscles tense and thenrelease, her eyes darkening even more.

“You know Ican’t do it without him.” She began, still trying to put the pieces together. “I’ma potion brewer, but the serum wasn’t a potion, Emma.”

“Then Iwill ask Gold. He helped Jekyll, knowing him he could have stored the recipeaway.”

The wayEmma spoke, brusque, emphasizing each word rather than muttering it, madeRegina dizzy with the sudden image it created. Not of the Dark version of thewoman but one farther in time, one she had almost accepted as gone and buried. Theblonde’s green eyes, suddenly lighter, spoke of that and the blouse she worefelt even more like a cage than ever before, the collar tight but askew as Emmarun one hand through her hair.

“You askedmy help.” She finally said, and Regina was brought back to the docks, the wavesalmost swallowing Emma’s almost question but not the way she had looked at her;trusting her wholeheartedly even when Regina wasn’t able to. They were in themiddle of a conundrum after all; if nothing else came up she needed to be…

“I didn’task that so you could ask me to brew the serum! What would you do with it anyway?”

Emma’s lipscurled in a short, sharp smile, one that was almost as cruel as her darkercounterpart, or maybe just as bitter and Regina realized exactly what theblonde was thinking about.

This timeit wasn’t all that difficult to reach for anger, for indignation, as bothfeelings were mixed with utter worry.

“You wantto split yourself.”

The blondeshrugged and, rising, she started to pace, shoulders still hunched, still somethingthe younger self wouldn’t have done but her face just as full of righteousnessas Regina had one known her. When she spoke, her voice was filled with agitationand Regina could feel purple beginning to pile up at the edges of her own eyes,tinting everything in mauve and lilac light.

“You wereright, back at Robin’s apartment.” Flinching, Emma growled softly beforespeaking once again. “I was just at the brink, I didn’t fall like you did. ButI came close, very close.” Stopping her pacing, Emma turned brusquely, offeringher empty hands to Regina before taking them back, her skin alight in dirtywhite cracks. “You might not need the savior, Regina, but Storybrooke does.They are asking for it. And if things get complicated, really complicated…” Shehalted once more, her teeth trapping her bottom lip for a moment before shereleased it once more. “I don’t know if I will be able to do it. If I took theserum…”

Regina felther head reeling, the way Emma had said her name, the way she had been so sureRegina didn’t need the savior herself, telling enough. Anger still seeping, butstill never enough to light her skin like it had once done, she stood as welland walked to the blonde, movements never as quick as they had once been. Muted,once again.

She longedfor the anger, the ire. But she found herself tired as she eyed Emma’s face andshe almost took a step back as the blonde simply stood in the middle of a fartoo empty living room, lips not even stained with the wine she was able totaste on hers.

“How about a glass of the best apple cideryou've ever tasted?”.

The memoryflashed in front of her eyes, quick and blurry but her voice felt as if she wasshouting it at herself from some dark corner of her mind. Wincing at it, sheglared as Emma shrugged.

“I’m notgoing to let you die.” She spoke, and her voice hold such finality that Reginashivered at it. She had already shivered like that back at Camelot, as she pushedand prodded at a quickly dissolving Emma, back at the well. That time she hadbeen the one holding cards against her chest but now it was the blonde who waseyeing her like she felt ready to barrel through whatever emotional bunkerRegina was trying to hide away from and that made the brunette pause. Unsure. Meanwhile,Emma spoke once more. “But that’s not enough for the others, is it?”

Reginaparted her lips, ready to say that yes, it was, only to realize that no; itwasn’t. Snow had gone back to teaching, David was more focused on the fact Emmawas finally taking a step away from their shared apartment and Henry…

Henry wasfinally being a true teenager, Violet floating the outskirts of her mind justas she thought about it. All of them looked at Emma and saw a Hero. They lookedat her and saw the split. None of them were truly free from that and Reginaknew how that pressure could mount behind one’s eyes until it felt ready toimplode, destroying everything in the process.

“You don’tknow what the serum would do to you.” Her voice came out high-pitched, worried,and she hated that, hated the loss of the deep drawl, the one the Queen seeminglyhad also taken from her. The loss had been greater than what she hadanticipated. What would do that to Emma? What else would she loss? The questionparalyzed her just as the possibility of an answer and so she kept pressing on.“You can’t know how you will be divided. And that only if it works! It could meanyour own death if the serum isn’t made correctly, worse than cyanide.”

Emmashrugged at that, curt, sharp smirk back in place.

“Cyanide? Iknow it burns the tongue and tastes acrid."

This timeRegina felt flames lapping at her fingers, anger redirected, and she squeezedthe fireball out before focusing on Emma’s eyes, realizing belatedly that theblonde was eyeing the fire as well, something close to pride glimmering there, lightingthe green.

“I’m not joking.”She could feel her shoulders tense and she took yet another step. That’s howthey had always done this, she considered, this pull and push. She had missedit far too much.

“Neither Iam.” The blonde crossed her arms in front of her chest, fingers pressed tightlyagainst her forearms.

“Have youthought what your worse part could be?” As soon as the words were out of hermouth Regina realized the mistake. That was yet another thing neither of them hadthe energy to dwell on about. Not when Emma had virtually divided the darkness,storing it into him. The one who should be there but wasn’t, the bite onjealousy and anger flickering in and out of her. She was far too tired however,and far too drunk on this sudden burst of strength she had felt lacking thelast couple of weeks. And so, she pressed on, not registering truly she wasscreaming now. “Sounds like a solid plan; rather than having one major evil intown ask the second one to come back and play! I wonder what my other halfwould think of that. She would be delighted.”

“I don’tknow, you tell me!”

The screammade everything around them still, deafening silence following up Emma’soutburst and Regina swallowed, realizing her breath was hitched, her throat hoarsewhere she had risen her voice. Sighing, the blonde shrugged, the sudden burstof anger replaced by meekness. One Regina wanted to slap away, destroy it, turninto dust.

“I’m notyou, Regina.” The admission came almost unexpectedly, and the brunette blinkedowlishly at it, not sure what the sentence truly meant. Fortunately, Emma kepttalking. “But once upon a time you asked me to let you die as Regina, not asthe Queen. I’m not my title. I’m not. I can’t be. If this… doubt, is destroyedwith a split I’m sure you could talk with my other darker half. Storybrooke needsit. And you as well. I know you won’t fail, I know we will find a solution. Butnot with me like this.”

“And whatdo you need? What do you want?”

Thequestion escaped her before she was fully aware she had even thought about itbut Emma chortled at it, as if she had been waiting for it.

“That doesn’tmatter.”

But itmattered, Regina thought, it truly did because Emma could read her, yes, but socould she. And, maybe because of that, she let her hand, still laced withmagic, to raise and touch the blonde’s shoulder, rising, inch by inch, untilshe could almost cup the younger woman’s cheek.

“I won’t doit.”

Emmabristled but Regina stopped her before she could move away.

“You areright. I asked you that. I always divided her and I, I thought that’s how thisworked but after the split I’m starting to see that it wasn’t like this. You areyour own person, Emma. So was I.”

And, sheadded in her mind, she needed Emma, beautiful, gorgeous Emma. Not the washed-outversion, the one that had cut parts of herself in order to fit in boxes thatweren’t hers to even begin with. The blonde didn’t deserve that. She, as shealways did, deserved better.

But she wastoo much of a coward now to even say it out loud and so, she said nothing.

The Thorn of a Rose

hello! This is a Valentine’s Day piece I wrote for a contest in my discord server. It’s a Nalu x Gruvia server so if you’d like to join I'll leave the link here Genre: fluff, lemon mentions, little hurt/comfort with Lucy being slightly sad, modern au

read on ff.net here

Lucy eyes flittered open as she stirred from sleep, her dull stare meeting wilted roses that were placed in a vase on her bedside table. The blonde removed her naked body from the sticky mess under the sheets and let her legs hang off the edge of the bed. The roses her father sent her stared at her in disgust - her bed mate not even stirring as she tore her gaze from them and padded her way across her apartment in the nude.

The shower washed away the slick feeling on her skin as she stepped into the boiling water. She scrubbed at the marks her fling had left and the dried up substance between her thighs that were the only remainder of their short and uneventful night. Well, for Lucy that was all it was. Another disappointing flirt from the bar that managed to sneak into her bed when she had drowned herself in alcohol. They were always the same.

Her eyes were heavy as she dressed herself, her cheeks sunken and void of colour making her look like death. She had tried to apply make up, but everyone in the office already knew what a sorry of an excuse for a woman she was so she stopped trying. It was near impossible to not hear the rumours that the younger receptionists whispered to each other. Lucy sighed, her father was right about one thing and that was that people did know just what type of girl she was - an easy pass after a bit of buttering up and a glass to drink.

When she left her bathroom her one night stand was gone, but Lucy was happy he had. It was almost torture when the white knights tried to stay to have breakfast and then insist that they’d see her again. Which they didn’t. It was even more degrading than being a simple quick fuck that was later forgotten about - like they were teasing her with the romance she could never even come close to having that was filled with second dates and something more than just sex.

It left a sour taste in the woman’s mouth that deepened her frown as she briskly walked to work. Though, that frown was nothing compared to the scowl that set itself in stone on her face as she got her morning coffee. Everything was fine until the cute young guy working the register called out a quick ‘Happy Valentines Day’ as she turned to leave.

It wasn’t necessarily the fact that he had mentioned it to her, but that he had reminded her that this Thursday was the holiday that she loathed. She knew it was coming - the roses from her father being a reminder that it was close as he sent flowers to her for every bloody holiday. To remind her that he was ready to accept her when she cleaned up her act. However, she had been so caught up in trying to disappear from her own life that she’d forgotten everything.

She looked around her and scoffed, the deep red foil balloon hearts mocking her for not noticing them as they lined basically every shop. Her heart coiled in on itself and it was hard to breathe as she realised just how many happy couples were around. It made her sick and she picked up her pace as she nearly jogged to the office - hoping to drown herself with some spiked coffee and then have a snooze at her desk, or a mental breakdown.

When Lucy reached the sanctuary of her desk, she blew a loud sigh of relief only to have her momentary peace interrupted by the sing song voice of her co worker and desk buddy, Juvia Lockser.

“Good morning~” she chirped as she peeked her head out from behind her computer but then gasped immediately when she laid eyes on the blonde that was slumped in front of her, “what happened, Lucy? Juvia thinks you look worse than usual.”

The exhausted woman looked up and blew strands of hair from her face as she shot Juvia an unappreciative stare.

“I’m just peachy thank you very much,” Lucy grumbled sarcastically. She loved Juvia, the woman she had been working with for almost two years, to bits but sometimes she was just too honest for her own good.

Juvia cheeks tinted when she realised how rude she sounded but she pushed past it, a huge smile forming on her face as her blue eyes took on a sparkly look as she nearly yelled, “Oh, and Happy Valentines Day!”

She was also just too damn happy as well.

Lucy wailed, “Please don’t mention it.” Her head hit the desk again, a whine escaping her as she wondered how hard she’d have to do it to be knocked out, or better yet dead.

“Juvia knows you are having a rough time since you’re last break up,” she sighed, “but today is not time to be sulking! We must set forth and sail and see where our hearts take us.” The desk buddy Lucy had cupped her cheeks as she got a dreamy look about her that made the blonde want to roll her eyes. The mention of her ex stung as the dark cloud rolled over her mind as she recalled how he had broken off their engagement just a month before the wedding.

“Well I don’t know where your boat is heading, but I hope mines into a ditch,” she murmured.

Juvia’s scolded her with a shake of her head. “I do hope you at least remembered a gift for the game of secret Valentine today.”

Lucy froze.

“I thought I asked to not be included in that shit,” she hissed as she leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well,” Juvia said simply, “you have the pink card of who you’re meant to be getting something for on your desk.” Her blue eyes looked to the said pink card pinned to her stand up notice board along with many other documents and sticky notes.

Lucy reached for the envelope before ripping it open. Her face paling even more as she read the name of a man in the office scrawled in glittery silver cursive.

“Who the fuck is Max?” She asked bewildered at the woman across from her.

“Oh, he works on the upper floor close to maintenance,” Juvia stated. Her face wincing at Lucy’s foul language so early in the morning.

Lucy pulled at her hair as she groaned, “I don’t have anything!” The woman moped as her head once again slammed onto the wooden desk beneath her where it seemed to be taking up permanent residence. Why did she have to stuck in a stupid work game to buy some loser something. Did maintenance even count as co workers? All they did was keep the place tidy by sweep-

“I’ve got it!” She shouted before she quickly scurried out of her seat, whilst Juvia stared at her retreating form as if she had finally lost it.

.

.

.

Lucy cringed at the broom that was wrapped in newspaper and duct tape when she saw the many other presents that lined the offices pigeon holes where they collected mail or important documents from the bosses. Some had small pink boxes while others were stuffed with large bouquets and chocolates, but they all looked better than her disaster of a present no matter the effort they had put it in.

A sigh left her lips as she taped a large paper sign to the top of the broom that just read ‘MAX’ in capital letters. It wasn’t her fault, the blonde had specifically told the managers assistant Mira that she wanted no part in this stupid game! So with a shrug the blonde turned around to then crash right into someone.

A bag of chocolates fell to the floor and a cuss filled the air as the person tried to readjust their hand on the small bouquet of red and white carnations. Lucy immediately ducked down to help picked up the chocolates, lucky that only a few had spilled from the bag.

“Lucy!” he nearly shouted as she pushed the chocolate into his hand with the flowers, the other holding a hot takeaway cup of coffee that she was glad hadn’t spilt all over her.

“Uh, hi?” she muttered while she eyed him, his pink hair and dark green eyes not sparking anything familiar. She didn’t really know anyone that well in the office so she didn’t know how he had known her name. However, his sudden blush had her wanting to crawl into a hole.

Fuck, have I slept with this guy??

“I didn’t think you’d be at work this early,” he blurted as his eyes looked past her and at the many presents that filled up the pigeon hole.

Lucy’s eyebrows narrowed when she saw he wasn’t looking at her face. It made her angry that he couldn’t even give her enough respect to actually look at her when he spoke to her. Not to mention that the gifts that he held caused a spike of envy to shoot through her body.

“Listen here, buddy” she seethed while she stood up straighter, “I don’t know what we had but could you atleast grow up and treat me with a bit of respect.”

His eyes snapped to her’s in a surprised look. “What are you talking about, Lucy? You’ve really gotten even weirder since I saw you nearly beat up the front door.”

She blinked. Then again.

“Oh, Natsu!” she cried and he gave her a puzzled look. “I’m sorry I’ve had a really shit morning,” she pointed her thumb at the many presents behind her, “I completely forgot this entire thing was on and just, you know.”

“Is that broom wrapped in newspaper your present?”

“Yes.”

Natsu cheeks puffed as he tried to hold in his laughter, but lost it a second after as he bent over and nearly spilled his coffee all over the floor.

Lucy tried to look annoyed but the soft smile that pulled on her lips gave her away. She remembered him now. It had been a week after her fiance had called off the wedding. Lucy had taken time off work, but when she came back she would work overtime to try and distract herself from the cold and lonely apartment that she had to return home to. It was on one of those night where she had stayed back that Natsu ran into her trying to break the glass of the automatic doors because it wouldn’t open. After telling her to put the chair down and showing her the side door for night employees (the sliding doors were shut off after 7pm) they talked while they walked home and even stopped to get ice-cream together at the request of Natsu. Lucy hadn’t seen much of him since, only a grin and wave offered if they passed each other.

Lucy huffed, “I didn’t even ask to be in this! It was actually pretty smart last minute improvisation on my part if I do say so myself.”

Natsu grinned down at her, “No, you’re just a weirdo.”

The blonde’s eye twitched as she crossed her arms, “Well, sorry I’m not planning a highschool confession,” Lucy gestured to the gifts in his arm, “You look damn near ready to propose with all that cheesy stuff!”

“What?” his expression growing worried, “You don’t like this?”

A deep blush coated her cheeks as she turned away. An assortment of hand picked flowers and a bag full of different types of chocolate? No, Lucy didn’t like this. She loved it. Her inner child swooning at his nervous eyes and the pout that rested on his face.

“I mean,” she bit out, “What girl wouldn’t like that?” Her gaze soften, as she let go of the sour clip to her tone. It really wasn’t her place to put him down because of her own issues. “You did a good job.”

Natsu smiled, “Well that’s great because these are for you!” He said while pushing them into her arms.

“Happy Valentines Day!”

Her brown eyes bulged as she took the present.

“Oh, and I also booked us to go paintballing just cause you know… You don’t have to go, but eh yeah.”

She looked up at the sheepish young man as he scratched the back of his neck while looking away from her, digging his face in his scarf. It wasn’t like Lucy hadn’t received a valentine’s day present before, but her eyes watered as she looked back down to the soft petals of the carnations that he had given her. Maybe it was because there wasn’t no incentive that this was all to get her in bed with him, or maybe she had just been so wrapped in telling herself that there was nothing left for her in love that she had driven herself insane. Either way, Lucy couldn’t help the light feeling in her chest as she gave Natsu an ear splitting grin.

“I can’t wait to kick your ass.”

Natsu looked up, eyes wide. “Seriously? Yosh! I’m all fired up.”

Lucy laughed and teased him while they walked out of the break room, both with large smiles on their faces before getting back to their respective desks.

And when she finished work she would go home and dance around her apartment to sappy songs instead of down at the club. She would wash her sheets and hum with delight as she cooked herself dinner. The wilted roses would be in the bin and while she went to sleep the carnations would be in the vase on her bedside table - to be blooming bright the next morning as she opened her eyes and a smile would force its way on her face.

And Lucy would be happy.

I hope you liked it! Thank you UwU

Here & Now - Chapter 5

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 3,273

Warning: None. It’s a little longer than the others. 

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn​

Off days were something I tried to take once every two weeks. Off days with a strict, no contact rule in place was a once a month thing, but the last month was so much that I needed a second one.

I wasn't allowed to do work, be asked about work or think about work. Either I sat home and did nothing or ventured out into the world to do something. The first day I slept, ate and caught up on some TV shows. It was so good I'd planned to do it again, but of course, that wasn't going down.

The moment my closest friends found out I was free they all had ideas on what to do, but I'd managed to dodge all of them. Sadly, Marcus liked to work against me. He was one of the few with a key to my home and he'd passed it on to Halsey. She broke into my house around noon with Yoongi.

I'd been standing in the middle of the kitchen singing along with Tiffany Evans' Promise Ring and drying off dishes when they appeared. As I was reaching to put the last plate in the cabinet the reflection in the glass showed them standing behind me. I nearly had a heart attack.

"Alexa, pause," I said, my voice shaky.

Turning around I became acutely aware of me being in a long shirt I'd had forever and pajama shorts that disappeared under it, but it was less important.

"What in the actual fuck people?"

At first, they just stared at me, Yoongi's poker face stronger than Hals. She broke first, laughing obnoxiously and then he followed suit. Almost making me piss myself something they found amusing.

My eyes narrowed and I crossed my arms over my chest. "Haha. Why are you here?"

After a few seconds, they collected themselves, wearing twin smiles. Hals had mischief in her eyes.

"You're off today, so we're doing something," she said.

Before I could open my mouth to protest she held up a hand and shook her head. "Nope. You told me you stayed in most of yesterday, so I know you're rested. Going out can be relaxing and good for you."

Again I wanted to shut her down, but she started pouting.

"Nothing crazy, I promise."

Sighing, I leaned against the counter and stared into her eyes. Nothing felt like I was being plotted against, but a lot of me didn't feel like venturing out into the world. My gaze shifted to Yoongi who'd taken a seat at the island. He just sat there and smiled.

"How did she rope you into this?"

He shrugged and Hals scoffed. "It was partly his idea."

My brow rose in shock and all my attention shifted back to him. His expression didn't change, he just shrugged again and continued smiling.

I had several questions, but I'd keep them to myself.

"Fine. You're right. Give me fifteen minutes."

With that I left them alone, dragging my feet to the bedroom. The situation didn't call for me to put in effort to look cute so I wouldn't. Though I'd say that I looked adorable most of the time without effort so whatever I wore would be fine. I snatched up some shorts, a Sailor Mercury top, and a flannel and threw them on.

Since I'd left the apartment only once the day before and that was to get my done I didn't have to do much. I always got it straightened to get it trimmed, so I whipped off my bonnet and carefully brushed it down from it's wrapped state. It fell the way I wanted so I left it be and wrapped a headband around my wrist just in case.

After going through my skincare routine and ensuring unchapped lips I ventured back out with my shoes in hand. Both of them had moved to the living room, playing on their phones.

"Ready."

They both glanced up at me, Halsey rising from the couch and messing with my hair. "It grew a lot in six months."

"Less split ends too. Lana actually sounded proud of me when she was explaining how much healthier it felt and looked."

"So switching braiders helped?" she asked.

"Yup."

All while we had our little conversation Yoongi stood there was a brow raised. He did that when we'd disappear into our own little world. As if he was intrigued with the way we interacted. It was honestly either very calm or very chaotic when it came to us. One could never be too sure what would go on.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, walking towards the door to slip on my shoes.

"Since someone here has people stalking him twenty-four seven," she paused and glared at Yoongi who just shrugged. "We're going a little far out to eat and walk a more isolated beach area. Hopefully, no one sees us, but if so it'll be fine."

"Statements ready in case," Yoongi added.

After grabbing my bag and phone from the table I swung the door open and motioned them out. As I locked the door something dawned on me.

"Wait, am I driving?"

They both paused and looked at each other than me. Hals smiled sweetly and Yoongi bit his lip, looking as he was fighting off laughter.

I groaned, tossing my head back. After a second I glared at her, but she maintained her "sweet" look. Yoongi finally let go of that chuckle and I could see on his face how prepared for this he'd been.

"One, I hate you." I then turned my attention to him. "Two, stop helping her. I thought we were closer than this Yoon."

With some fake sniffles on my part, I turned on my heel and stormed down the hall. My dramatics consistent until we'd reached the parking garage and my car.

Yoongi hopped into the front seat, all but shoving Hals out of the way to get it. Her sound of protest was so gentle I barely heard it, but it was still hilarious.

Once inside and with the car turned over I realized how warm it would be and was glad for air conditioning. There was no way I could put the windows down since the tint was the only thing stopping people from quickly spotting Yoongi.

With everyone buckled in, I pulled out of the spot and out of the parking garage. The car was silent for a while and then when we reached a stoplight Halsey was flinging herself between the seats to grab my phone. I slapped her hand and she reached again, but I moved it out of reach.

"What do you want?" I asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

"It's too quiet, we need music," she said.

She wasn't wrong, if I went too long in silence I'd be driven mad. Grabbing the phone I unlocked it, ensured it was paired with the car and went to my Spotify. Extending my arm I bypassed her hand and gave it to Yoongi. She grunted and sat back, probably rolling her eyes.

I'd only been able to catch a second of Yoongi's reaction before I had to pull off again. He appeared confused and then amused, taking the phone without question.

A minute or so passed before any sound filled the space and when it did my eyes went wide and I shook my head.

"Nope. Not that, change it." I tried to grab the phone, but he kept it out of reach.

"What? Don't like Thong Song? It's on your phone." He teased, like the butt he was.

In no way was I embarrassed by having the song, it had grown on me over the years; but my face did not agree. I could feel the burning of my cheeks and the mild discomfort in my stomach, but I pushed it down.

Clearing my throat I turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Different song or Hals gets control."

For a moment his thumb hovered over the phone as if he wasn't going to change it, but then he tapped the screen and a new song started. J. Cole's Cole World fills the space and my body relaxes.

It takes me getting to the freeway before I realize I had no clue where the heck we were going. Hals shrugs and Yoongi takes over, tapping an address into the GPS; his manager had researched some places that would lessen visibility.

On the way there we all talk on and off, avoiding work subjects. The moment I even slightly mention anything that will lead to work Hals shuts it down and eventually, Yoongi started to as well, leveling me with disapproving glances.

By the time we reach the small beach town, Hals is pouting in the back, upset that Yoongi and I started focusing our teasing purely on her. I all but dragged her from the car because of it, with her muttering under her breath about getting back at us.

The town was indeed not that packed. Of course, most people migrated towards the beach, but even then it wasn't a lot going on and they were all on the older side. Yoongi still kept on his beanie and mask on though, because fans came in all ages and you never knew when one could pop out.

Hals took the lead once she'd finished her fake sad girl act and we followed behind her. The beach farther down the road was less packed, so we spent a great deal of time loitering around there. We kicked off our shoes and walked partly in the water, we walked in silence or just talking about anything.

Something I'd learned and loved about being friends with Hals is we could have those random talks. With Yoongi it was the same way and it felt so natural even after a short time. Being able to talk and the other know if it was just you venting or needing some sort of response.

At some point, I waded father in, glad to be wearing shorts. Hals had stopped to take a picture of something and Yoongi was just staring out into the water. What I hadn't realized is that he snuck up on me, until I was being pushed forward.

"No," I squeaked.

A deep laugh came from behind me just as I was pulled back.

Once my feet were firmly planted I whipped around to see a smiling Yoongi. My eyes narrowed and I shoved him lightly, only displacing him a little.

"Don't do that, ya butt."

All my remark did was make him laugh, but when he saw me go to move past him he stopped.

"I would never. I know it would have effect on..." he trailed off and gestured to my straightened, and slightly poofy hair.

There was the smallest temptation to continue down my pouty path because I was annoyed, but something about it made me stop.

He understood what would come of my hair getting wet, but the fact that he felt comfortable enough to joke with me like that felt nice. Not like he'd been uncomfortable with me after a week or so, but there were levels to comfort and friendship.

A smile formed on my lips and before I could say anything Hals caught my attention. She was on her phone and was frowning deeply. Wading out of the water I stopped a few feet short of her.

"Mhm. Okay." With that she hung up and stared at us, frown deepening.

"What's wrong?" Yoongi asked.

She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. "Something came up at the studio. They thought it would be fine last night and this morning, but they lost half a song. I need to go back and re-record."

The urge to ask a million questions about how they fumbled that without any backups presented itself, but she didn't need that.

"Okay. We can grab our shoes and drive back."

"No, no, no, no, no," she said, pushing me back as I tried to walk further onto the beach.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head and took careful steps back.

"You two enjoy yourselves. I gave my manager a heads up on where I'd be, so a car was sent already because it looked bad like an hour ago. They're minutes out. I'll leave and you guys do whatever."

For a moment I wondered if it was some cliche set up, but nothing about the situation screamed that. And even with her facial control, she wasn't that good.

"You good with that?" I asked, turning to Yoongi.

He nodded.

"Okay then."

We walked her back to where I'd parked and were met with the car in a minute or so. After seeing her off we kind of just stared at each other, not really sure what to do next.

"So..." I trailed off.

A second or two of silence and he spoke. "Food?"

Without another word we got into my car and after a few seconds of him playing on his phone he tapped something into my GPS. The address was in Chinatown, which had me pausing because of the number of people that would be there.

"It's fine. Manager cleared it," he said without even looking at me.

I believed he wouldn't do anything to get himself mobbed or me, so I went along with it. We rode in silence and it was comfortable. How he always made the quiet feel calm and not awkward was beyond me.

"Favorite song?" he asked in Korean, drawing my attention.

"Um..." I hummed, chewing on my lip as I thought. "Can't think of an overall fave."

"Of the moment?"

"Hm..." Nothing was coming to me, my mind blanked completely.

Before I could get it together and respond I was being told by the GPS that we'd arrived at our destination. Yoongi directed me towards a different direction and I parked in an alleyway parking lot of the place. It was thankfully pretty empty.

Once out of the car, he led the way, knocking on the back door. In seconds we were met by his manager and led inside the place. Inside was much like the outside, which I chalked up to them ensuring there would be no random photo ops and swarms of people.

While we were seated closer to the back of the place his manager sat up front with someone I wasn't familiar with. I didn't care to know or figure it out though, seeing as it was none of my business.

A woman around my age came out to hand us menus and drinks, smiling politely.

"Take your time," she said as she left.

Yoongi skimmed his and I glanced down once before pulling out my phone to check for any messages. I had a few emails and an apology text from Hals. After responding to her I slipped onto my "professional" twitter to see what was going on.

I don't know how much time had passed before my phone was snatched from my hands and I noticed Yoongi's glare.

"I called your name."

"My bad."

I reached to reclaim my phone, but he slipped it off the table into his pocket. With a raised brow I stared him down, but he just shrugged and pointed to the patient waitress.

"I'll just have whatever he got."

"It was seafood."

"Then I will not have whatever he got. Instead, I will have..." I looked at the menu and pointed to something in the beef section. "...that."

She left us and he stared me down, expression blank. I stared back because what the hell else was I supposed to be. When that morphed into a competition I wasn't sure, but eventually, a throat was being cleared and my tea was being sat down.

My cheeks burned from being caught in our weirdness, while Yoongi tried to hide his smile. The dork.

I busied myself drinking tea as I regained composure. Mid-sip a thought came to mind. "Oh, it's Promise Ring by Tiffany Evans by the way."

"What?"

"My current favorite song. It isn't new, but it's what I listen to at least five times a day," I said.

His brows furrowed and then he nodded his head. For a second he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, and I protested vigorously. He just swatted my hand away until he was done and pocketed it.

The smirk he wore when I glared at him made me want to thump him, but I refrained and refused to speak until the food came.

We spent our eating time in silence or just talking about things we enjoyed. We'd spent enough time together that it wasn't some ice breaking get to know you stuff, but a deeper dive into our hobbies.

He'd grown more interested in my writing and though I'd begged him not to read anything I'd published he kept asking too specific questions. I tried to trip him up or get him to admit it, but he was a steel trap.

Just as we were finishing up his manager appeared and whispered something to him. Yoongi nodded and turned his attention to me as he walked away.

"I have a schedule later. So I have to leave soon." A small frown formed on his lips.

I waved him off. "It's fine. I too have a schedule... with my bed."

His frown vanished and he laughed at my lame answer.

Since I finished first I waited for him to be done and then we both stood from the table. When I turned to the front of the restaurant I noticed his manager with a credit card in his hand and a confused expression. The hostess was pointing in my direction and motioning for him to put it away.

A smile fought its way onto my lips, but I still tried to hide it with my hand. Yoongi handed me my phone and looked at me with confusion. Suddenly, his manager walked by and told him he'd wait out back. Before he left he thanked me for paying.

"How?" Yoongi asked, voice almost a whisper. The confusion from earlier only increasing in his expression. I guessed he was trying to figure out when I'd slipped away or called ahead.

"Oh sweetie, this is one of my favorite restaurants. They know me well and they knew that if I'm here then I pay. Regardless of how hard everyone else fights to."

He looked awestruck. I just laughed, patted his shoulder and headed towards the exit. "Maybe next time."

When we got out back his manager was already there in a car. We said our see you laters and then parted ways.

That evening as I was curled up on the couch half-watching The Office and scrolling through my stan account's feed something felt off. I refreshed the screen and saw a barrage of posts about Yoongi and it clicked.

Yoongi texted me just as my feed refreshed again to a post of pictures of the three of us and another of just him and me laughing. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and opened his message.

"Sorry, we tried to get it handled but couldn't. Statement already released. I'm really, really sorry."

I hoped he wasn't being too hard on myself, it wasn't his fault. The risks were known the moment I agreed to go out with them. Besides I wasn't bothered at all, especially since it was a good day.

But goodness, the shit show would not be fun to sift through later.

Wrote the First Chapter of Defenders of Tomorrow Just for Funsies

Also. I just love Leakira.

--

The Castle of Lions was a relic: living history. The building was old: very old, and nearly falling apart. Its walls hung tall and stony against the framework like it was going out of style and the thick slabs of pale stone that lined the walls looked like they were holding together by complete luck. Its pillars and columns were riddled with so many cracks, it was a miracle the place was still standing.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t beautiful: with its high walls and tall towers that shone brilliantly at the touch of moonlight. Intricate traceries weaved their way up the palace like vines, although much of the meticulous detail had chipped away over the years. The halls were lined with intricately mosaiced windows and padded with plush carpet that may have been exquisite at a time but had long since faded to a sour red.

The castle stood, a stark anachronism, contrasting quite spectacularly against the high rises and neon lights that crowded the inner city. It was perhaps the only remaining piece of Altea: the one thing even the Galra couldn’t bring themselves to destroy.

All was quiet in the southern wing of the castle. Servants and diplomats alike had settled down for the evening, and only the occasional guardsman disturbed the darkened halls. Pale light from the city filtered through the windows, casting broken, flickering beams across the walls. One briefly hit the form of a dark figure, passing unseen in and between the jagged shadows that lined the room.

His stature and figure indicated male, but only barely. He was still rather scrawny, not to mention on the shorter side, but this wasn’t to say he lacked agility.

The figure passed swiftly through the halls, clad in all black. The cape of a cloak billowed behind him soundlessly. He paused, cocked his head to one side and then the other, listening. Nothing other than the soft murmur of the city below permeated the space and, satisfied, he continued down the hall: markedly more cautious.

He looked like the shadow of a bird: darting about almost erratically. Hopping and stopping and inching. Pausing to search the air, to listen for sounds of trouble.

He stopped at a doorway near the end of the hall, just barely tilting his head out before darting back again. He repeated this twice more, each time inching out a little further. Finally satisfied, he scurried quickly across the length of the hall.

The figure stopped in front of a tall, stained oak door positioned between two large windows. One held in its glass a wilting lily, the other: a rose.

A hand darted out from under the cloak, holding something long and slender that flashed silver in the light of the window. There was a long pause, where the figure was quite still. The air stagnated with a lingering hesitation, one that lasted nearly a minute. And then the figure kicked the door in.

The headlines the following morning read: “King Zarkon’s Head of Tactics - Brutally Murdered. No signs of exterior break-ins. No leads.”

Two years later.

Leandro leaned casually against the dark brick wall of an unnamed alley that stretched between 1st and 2nd street. The evening air around him hung light and cool, tangy with the taste of salt. The sky had turned a dark amber as the sun had set over the bay, and was slowly fading a deep blue. Street lamps had begun to flick on around him, casting the grimy walls of the alley a soft yellow and slanting shadows across everything.

The buildings on this side of town were a lot more rugged than they were in the Galra district: all the skyscrapers and flashy lights replaced by lines of dingy apartments and shady alley after shady alley. It always seemed like people were...lurking here, more than living. Just slinking around from one sketchy part of town to the other. Leandro supposed that’s what they were doing now: hiding out in this mucky little side street like they were.

He slouched with one hand stuffed in the pocket of his faded blue jeans. The other held a thin sheet of paper that had a rather sizeable rip through the top where he’d torn it from the job board. Leandro regarded it thoughtfully, although he couldn't say he actually found it all that interesting. Mostly, he was trying to look busy, and serious. That’s what a squad leader was: cool and brooding and junk.

On the paper stared back at him the dark eyes of someone in their early twenties who’d seen a lot more in their two decades than most should have to in their whole lives. Of someone who was giving the world a rough time when that’s all it had given him. Now see, there was someone who was definitely good at brooding.

Longer, charcoal black hair fell in pieces around a sharply defined face: the rest was pulled back behind his head in a loose ponytail. A pair of tinted goggles hung loosely around his neck, and he wore a well-fitting black jacket with a fur-lined hood. The collar and sleeves were neatly trimmed in a red that complimented the color of his shirt.

Straight through the middle of the tear at the top of the page was  a single letter - “K."

Although, he couldn’t care less about the kid. Leandro was way more interested in the seven-figure reward posted in big, blocky letters just below him.

“Hey Hunk, I think Leandro’s got a new crush,” Petra trilled snidely from across the alley, wiggling her eyebrows up and down suggestively. She was a smaller girl with short, choppy blonde hair and big round glasses that nearly covered her whole face. And, although she didn’t look it, Leandro knew from experience that she was good in a fight.

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s nice,” Hunk was obviously not paying attention, eyes still locked on the line of cars moving down 2nd street.

“Can it, would ya Petra?” Leandro shot, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his trench coat. “I’m just making sure I know the guy’s face when we see him.” He crossed his arms tightly, turning resolutely away from Petra. The last thing he needed tonight was her incessant teasing. He needed focus, for this mission to go flawlessly. He needed that bounty.

“Still nervous about your first mission, huh?”

“No.” Leandro made a muffled, frustrated noise. He bit his lower lip. “Yes. Maybe. A little.” He turned further into the wall, pulling his arms tighter against his chest. “And it’s not my first! I’ve gone out plenty of times.”

“First time leading one.”

Damn it. Why was Petra still so good at reading him? A few years ago yeah, sure, he was new and naive, and you could make out just about everything that went through his head by a look alone. But he was better now! More controlled.

So it was infuriating when Petra could sit there and read him like an open book.

She gave him a small smile, “It’s alright, you’re doing great so far.” She began scuffing at the ground with the toe of her boot, “I’m sure Veronica was scared her first mission as squad leader, and I know Nadia was. And besides, you’ve got Hunk and me. Trust me, neither of us would be here if we didn’t think you were at least semi-competent at this whole leader business. You’ll do great.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leandro huffed. But he couldn’t help the small smile that briefly flashed across his face.

“Hey guys, we’ve got movement. Pretty big movement, actually.” Hunk called from down the alley.

Leandro pushed off the wall, jogging up behind Hunk with Petra close on his heels. He pulled a pair of sleek black binoculars out of the inside pocket of his trenchcoat, focusing them on Romelle’s Bridge. It was broad, cast iron, but not particularly spectacular apart from the fact it stretched across the entirety of the bay: linking them to the Galra district.

“Where, where, I don’t see,” Leandro bobbed back and forth, leaning forward until his knees were pressed against the back of Hunk’s reefer.

“Aw, he went behind that container ship. Here, wait wait, just listen.” Hunk held up a finger, indicating the other two fall silent.

Leandro lowered his binoculars. All three leaned forward curiously, heads turned towards the bridge. He couldn’t hear anything at first, just the dull thrum of traffic and the occasional shout or holler behind them. He craned his neck forward, letting his eyes slide shut and focusing solely on listening for anything deviating from the humdrum of the city.

It came as a soft murmur at first, not something you’d easily pick apart from the standard din, but it immediately caught Leandro’s attention. It was indistinctly the whine of a cycle. The murmur heightened in pitch suddenly, ascending to a dull roar and rapidly growing louder. Leandro’s eyes snapped open, scanning the bridge through his binoculars.

His eyes landed on a lone motorist at the other end, streaking across the bridge impossibly fast through the thick rush hour traffic. He was nearly halfway across when Leandro lowered the binoculars, grin spread wide across his face.

“Oh, that’s definitely him.”

“Yeah, well when I saw him across the bay, it looked like he had some guys following him. But I think they got kinda,” Hunk held a hand up in front of him, sliding it up and down to gesture a wall, “Caught in traffic. I mean that’s good for us. You know it’s nice not to be the ones the Galra are trying to kill for once. I mean, probably. I’d guess K is a higher priority -- I mean he is an assassin -- plus he’s the one with the big money over his head. Actually, I wonder how much our bounty would be if we--”

“Hunk, you’re rambling buddy,” Leandro had the binoculars trained on the dark shape of the motorcycle as it wove its way through the sea of cars. The bridge led out directly onto 2nd street and seeing as the road was one way, the motorist would have to pass right by their little alley.

Leandro’s grip tightened on the binoculars. “Petra, you all set?”

She gave a small, affirmative grunt. “Yeah. We’re ready for him.”

“Woah Woah Woah, wait is that a harpoon gun?” Hunk gasped, and Leandro could see him reel to the side in his peripherals.

“Yeah. Were you listening when I was going over the plan earlier?”

“Sorry,” Hunk sounded actually apologetic, “It’s just I haven’t eaten since noon, and you stopped us to debrief like right in front of this fish and chips place I like to go to sometimes, like oh man they have the best--”

“Hunk, not the time,” Petra shot.

“Get ready for him, he’s nearly at the end of the bridge.” The sound of the motorcycle was nearly deafening now. Leandro tensed, the muscles in his legs and shoulders coiling, loading like a spring. “Mind your timing Petra, fire too early or too late and it’s big trouble.”

He heard a slide and click as Petra slid the harpoon into place. “You aren’t the only one who can fire a gun, you know.”

“Hey guys, is our plan really just to fire a harpoon at his bike? Because that’s really not--”

“Shut it Hunk,” Leandro and Petra shouted in unison.

“Get ready,” Leandro’s eyes didn’t leave the motorcycle. His breath caught in his throat: bated. “Almost...almost...” He squinted, worrying the inside of his cheek. “Turned, he turned, he turned,” Leandro tore away from his binoculars, “Petra shoot now.”

Biting down harshly on her lower lip, Petra pulled the trigger and sent the harpoon whizzing through the air towards the street just as a loud, roaring streak of red passed them by.

At first, it looked like it had just barely missed the back end of the motorcycle. Leandro smirked. This wasn’t over yet.

The tip of the harpoon seemed to freeze mid-air, lingering a fraction of a second, before turning sharply in the direction of the motorcycle. It chased after it several more yards before piercing the back wheel.

Leandro’s hands flew to his ears at the ear-shattering bang that ensued, followed by the sickening sound of metal crunching. An eruption of car horns began to blare, and Leandro could taste smoke.

Petra pumped her fists in the air, jumping up excitedly. “Yes!”

“Uh, how did that actually just work? That missed him. That totally missed him. How did you get it to...” Hunk paused as realization dawned on him, “Ooooh that was that thing we planted on his bike last week! The electromagnetic pulsator whatever. I thought it was just a tracker.”

Leandro and Petra pushed past Hunk, running out into the open air of the street.

“Yup!” Leandro spared a quick glance at Hunk as he began weaving his way through the mess of stationary cars. “And then Petra put that doohickey on the tip of the harpoon, so when we shot it, it locked onto that electro whosma whatsit!”

“It was a little more complicated than that,” Petra huffed directly behind him. “Actually, if you’re interested in the schematics Hunk, I--”

“No time for science stuff! C’mon, we gotta get to him before he runs off!”

“Remind me why we didn’t just capture him when we found his motorcycle?” Hunk had already begun panting, “It took us forever to find that bike.”

Leandro slowed, turning back towards Hunk, “He’s an assassin, remember? We couldn’t just stand around his bike, hoping he’d show up. He’d get the jump on us!”

“We needed the element of surprise on our side,” Petra explained, “You don’t just get to drive around in something that loud doing something that sketchy without being good at disappearing when you want to. It would’ve been too easy for him to slip away.”

Thus, they’d staged the car accident. Using the tracker they’d planted, they were able to figure out where he was, and where he was likely going. Then it was just a matter of figuring out how to take out the motorcycle.

Leandro imagined outmaneuvering pursuers was hard enough without a mess of cars and confused passengers blocking your way. Plus it risked injury to their target, pulling the odds in their favor.

It had all been Leandro’s plan, naturally. Which is why they’d picked him to head the squad that would carry it out.

Leandro broke through the cluster of cars into a small clearing, at the far end of which sat the smoking husk of a motorcycle. Bent over it were the sparking remains of the lamp post it’d run into. The form of the assassin K sat hunched against the cycle, silhouetted ominously by several dozen headlights.

He was actually quite impressed K was conscious at all, after a crash like that.

Leandro’s sprint fell into a confident strut as he approached K, his hands thrown casually into the pockets of his trench coat. He stopped just in front of K, giving him a sweeping, uninterested glance. He looked exactly like the picture had. All sleek and stoney.

K sat, hands clenched into fists at his sides, panting heavily. He glared up at Leandro, thick brown eyes stapled into a head framed by choppy black hair that had fallen out of its ponytail. They bore into him, forced their intensity onto Leandro, made him feel the same heat they held. There was so much will in those eyes. This wasn’t a man. This was an explosion waiting to happen.

The picture really hadn’t done him justice.

In just a fraction of a second K’s hand had moved to the katana strapped to his back. He’d pulled the blade nearly halfway out of its sheath when K felt the click of a pistol press hard against his forehead. Leandro couldn’t help but grin at the bitter look that flashed across K’s face, realizing he’d wound himself up in check.

“So, you’re Akira.” Leandro grinned cockily at his target.

Akira’s eyes went wild for a second, filled with something primal. No, it wasn’t quite fear...it was anger. “How do you know my name,” Akira whispered harshly.

Leandro shrugged casually, “Did my research. Found a couple of people who knew you before you started running around as K. Hmmm K...K...what does that stand for anyway?”

“None of your business.”

“Killer? Kill...ing? That’s kind of on the nose though...or...oh! It’s like A-Kira. So do you actually go by Kira, then?”

“I said it’s none of your business!” Akira shouted, swiftly pulling his katana and slamming the hilt into Leandro’s hand, forcing him to release the pistol. It hit the ground with a sharp crack, skidding out of reach. In an instant, Leandro felt the sharp pressure of a blade held directly to his throat.

 Akira’s eyes blazed not inches from his own.

“Leandro!” Petra called roughly from somewhere behind him.

It was sweet of her to worry, but there was no need. Leandro shot Akira a toothy grin, pulling out the hand still stuffed in his pocket and with it a pistol identical to the first. He had it pressed to Akira’s chest before he had time to react.

“Hope you didn’t think it’d be that easy.”

Akira glanced down at the gun. “Quintessence?”

“Oh, you noticed?”

“The barrel’s glowing bright blue,” Akira deadpanned.

“Well, yeah, it’s quintessence. Just got them recently, if you care to know. Bit of an upgrade. I was promoted, actually.”

“Congratulations.”

“Oof. I can’t tell what’s sharper, your tone or the sword.”

“it’s a katana,” Akira growled.

Leandro did his best to shrug, “Looks like a sword to me.”

Akira tensed suddenly, his eyes darting up somewhere over Leandro’s shoulder, “Take one more step, and I slice his throat open!”

Leandro heard Petra give a muffled, affirmative grunt behind him. She must have been trying to help. He felt a little guilty for that: making his friends watch helplessly while he was bickering with the man who had a sword to his jugular.

Leandro sighed.

“Alright, I’ll just be the one to say it: this is super boring. And we all know you’re kinda trapped anyway, ya know with my friend there and the Galra on their way, sooooo....what do you say you lower your sword, and I drop my pistol, and we do this thing like respectable, murderous adults?”

Akira’s face was beyond incredulous, bordering on shock. He relaxed it quickly, letting a sly grin take its place. “You're pretty confident, buddy.”

“Yup.”

“You really think you can catch me? Something no other bounty hunter or Galra squadron has been able to do in the past two years?”

“Mmm...yes.”

Akira grinned, “Alright. Let’s do this.”

“Drop on three,” Leandro tensed. “Oh! And no cheating and slicing my throat once I lower the gun. Cause then Petra’ll totally shoot you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Three...two.....one and a half.......one and a quarter...”

“Leandro!” Petra shot.

“Alright, alright! Three two one go!”

Akira withdrew his blade, hopping back a step and Leandro lunged for his other pistol. He turned back, grinning. Akira leveled a stare with him, eyes lingering on Leandro’s a brief moment, before he turned and bolted in the other direction.

“H-hey!” Leandro called indignantly, “Come back! That’s cheating!”

“Leandro! Wait!” Petra called out behind him. He ignored her, obviously. What, was he supposed to just let this guy get away?

Leandro pushed himself into a sprint, hoping his long legs would give him the advantage on speed. Akira slid over a car a dozen feet ahead of him, then turned left sharply and disappeared into the crowd of rubbernecks. Leandro cursed loudly, jumping onto the roof of the car of a very irritated, older Galran woman.

There: he spotted Akira struggling to push through a curious group of onlookers to his left.

“Leandro!”

“Losing him!’ He shot back annoyedly.

He was beginning to catch up, could see Akira not five feet ahead of him ducking and dipping through the stalled traffic.

“LEANDRO! Stop!”

Akira came to a sudden halt, wriggling and twitching like a salted slug, before falling to the ground in a spark of blue. Leandro was only barely able to stop himself before he met the same fate thanks to Petra’s warning.

Akira lay on the ground, twitching and apparently unconscious for the moment. Petra and Hunk sauntered up behind Leandro. He whirled back on them, still a little shaken.

“Holy crow, what was that?”

Petra crossed her arms proudly, “Particle barrier. While you were busy flirting, I had Hunk make himself useful and sneak away to set one up around the perimeter. Then I overloaded the system, so it’s pretty much an electric fence. It’s, ah, not very good for the receptors mind you--one’s already burned out -- but--”

“Petra! You impy little genius!” Leandro grabbed her, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

“Hey!” she sounded, annoyed, but the smooshed grin on her face said otherwise.

“Uh, hey guys, still here. Also, so is that K guy, and hate to break the mood, but we don’t know how long he’s gonna be knocked out like that. So might wanna tie him up or something. I dunno, just a thought.”

“Oh! Right!” Leandro pulled away from Petra, turning to Akira. He knelt down, giving him a worried look. “Hey Petra, how high’d you set the voltage exactly? He’s looking a little...less than living.”

“Eeeyyuummmmmm...” Petra trailed off, just a bit awkwardly. “I mean, for starters, the voltage wouldn’t matter in terms of electrocution, that’s wattage. But still, I’m not...sure? We were kinda rushed, so I just sorta winged it. Lemme...get back to you on that.” Petra ran over to one of the receptors, flipping it off and beginning to fiddle with it.

Hunk sighed. “Not that either of you cares, but I think I just heard someone zap themselves on the ‘fence.’ I’m gonna start collecting these before we end up with fried Galra.” Hunk began making his way along the ‘perimeter’ they’d set up: switching off receptors as he went.

Leandro furrowed his brow, drilling his fingers steadily on his knee. He shifted his weight from foot to foot thoughtfully. Leaning forward on the balls of his feet, he placed his head on Akira’s chest. “It’s faint, but he’s still breathing,” Leandro said, relieved. Petra gave a slight nod, still engrossed in the receptor.

Leandro narrowed his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of her face, “Hello, Earth to Petra. Super deadly assassin guy’s alive. Wanna help me tie him up, or what?”

“Yeah...sorry.” Petra, a bit reluctantly, set aside the receptor and began digging through the light olive satchel slung around her shoulder. It only took her a moment before she’d produced a pair of twin metal rings. Leandro helped her fasten them around Akira’s wrists. Then, they rolled him onto his stomach, pulling his hands behind him. Petra held out a small cylindrical key, which Leandro was able to fit comfortably into a slender hole on the side of the cuffs. Twisting the key, the two rings began to hum, snapping together almost immediately.

“Leandro,” Petra whispered, smacking his shoulder.

“Huh? What’d I do?” He looked up from where he’d been situating Akira upright against a lamp post.

She nodded towards a rather large group of people with all too annoyingly familiar purple hair and red visors. The Galra’d finally managed to drag their asses over to see what had happened, then.

“Hunk!” Leandro shot, turning around almost wildly, scanning the crowd of cars and onlookers. His eyes landed on the big oaf a quarter block down, cradling a  precarious pile of receptors. “We gotta bounce.” Hunk didn’t even need to see the small troop of Galra enforcers to start jogging towards them. 

Leandro knelt down in front of Akira, wrapping his arms around the other’s (surprisingly thin) waist and hauling him over his shoulder. He rose to his feet with some effort and a low grunt, but the dude was surprisingly light. Well, as light as an unconscious guy can be. He was still going to be hella annoying to carry.

They took off the second Hunk had rejoined them, tailed by a small chorus of ‘hey!’s as the enforcers began to slowly pick up what was going on.

Leandro could feel his face lighten, and he couldn’t shake off the grin that had spread ear to ear. He loved the thrill of the chase, although he doubted the enforcers would be able to rally and make their way through that crowd any time before they’d slipped away. Still, the rush of a plan gone right propelled him forward, and his sprint had turned into something that was nearly a skip.

With a small grunt, he turned around, so he was jogging backward. Leandro smirked, unable to help himself, “Suck my--”

“Leandro! Let’s go!”

“Aw Petra, you’re no fun,” he whined, turning back around to run properly.

Forget money problems for the next few months, this Akira guy would have them loaded.

--

Their base of operations was located in a squat factory that sat along an unused part of the bay. Archaically old and long ago abandoned, there weren’t even streets left that ran to the place. The only way to get to it was a long and sometimes annoying trek through the long grass that grew along the banks.

The building was made of old red brick, dusted pink from long hours of sun exposure. The few windows that lined the walls were either impossibly grimy or completely paneless. Tall smokestacks poked out of the top, so covered in soot and sludge that they cast long black shadows on the darkened night sky.

Leandro stood just a stone’s through up from the water, readjusting Akira on his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. Petra was still working on deactivating the alarms -- a long and painstaking process that took quite a bit of time on a good night.

The bay had turned an inky black. The tiny lights of the Galra housing district glittered and danced across the surface of the water, almost like stars. Above them rose the tall, serene figure of the Castle of Lions. It hovered above the city like a ghost, silent and subdued, and watching.

It had been nearly three hundred years since the Galra had invaded the Altean Empire and claimed this land as their capital. And although Leandro had only been around for the last twenty-two of those, he could still feel the wrongness of all of it. The Alteans had lived by democracy and equality. The Galra ruled through fear and segregation. After the Alteans had been wiped out, the humans had been forced into slum-like existences, while the Galra lived it up in the luxury districts.

Leandro sighed, turning his gaze up. There was so much light pollution, it didn’t even look like a proper night sky. It lurked above them, a sickly shade of yellow-black the same color of bile. The whole sky seemed closer somehow. Like a vast ceiling floating far above their heads, blocking out all the stars. But not so far it was unreachable.

Leandro shifted Akira again, grunting at the ache that had sprung up in his shoulder. Was he ever looking forward to dumping this guy off. Honestly, they’d both been lucky Akira hadn’t woken up on their trek over. Because if Leandro’d had to deal with a kicking and resisting captive in addition to lugging his ass all across the sandbanks, he’d have thrown him into the ocean.

There was a small beep and then a sharp click behind him, followed by a relieved sigh from Hunk. Leandro turned back towards the factory, making his way up to where Petra and Hunk stood just outside the entrance.

“Took you long enough,” Leandro griped under his breath.

“It took me as long as it always does.”

“Well, you weren’t the one who had to--”

“Let’s just. Go inside.” Petra let out an exasperated sigh.

Leandro grumbled but didn’t push the argument further. While he was still feeling a little stubborn, Akira wasn’t getting any lighter.

Petra heaved the door open with her shoulder, grunting under the weight of it. Leandro would have offered to help, but the last time he’d tried he’d ended with a Petra-size boot print on his face.

“We’re back!” called Leandro lazily as he strode into the factory, taking the first opportunity he could to drop Akira down next to the wall. Hunk trudged in after him silently, dragging his feet.

The factory was empty: a long metal floor completely barren of all but a few moldy crates and a rusting lathe. No signs of life.

Petra trailed in after them, hauling the door shut. “Could you keep it down, Leo?”

He shrugged, “It’s not like anyone’s gonna hear us. I mean, we’re pretty isolated.”

“Whatever, can we just get going? I haven’t eaten since like, this morning,” as if on cue, Hunk’s stomach let out a loud growl. “See?”

Leandro smirked, “And you’re worried I’m the one making too much noise.”

“Hey,” Hunk sounded hurt.

Still smirking, Leandro turned towards a segment of the wall just next to the door.

“Here, I can grab that--”

“Aw, c’mon Petra, lemme do it for once, would ya?”

She didn’t respond, and Leandro took that as a ‘go ahead.’ He tapped around the wall a couple times, eventually finding the dud brick and pulling it out of its cubby. Inside sat a row of old buttons and switches: designed to blend in with the technologies at the time of the factories construction some two hundred years ago.

He hit the buttons in the order he remembered Petra telling him: the big red one first, a couple of the small black ones, aaaaand flip the weird metal switchy doodad. Perfect.

There was a loud crunch and, just as Leandro had slid the brick back into place, the floor beneath them began to shift. It started moving down steadily and much smoother than one would expect a lift of this proportion to be capable of. Still, it was slow as hell.

It took a whole two or three minutes before the entrance of the base began to slide into view along the wall opposite them. Leandro shifted his weight back and forth, tipping side to side almost anxiously.

By the time they’d nearly reached the bottom, Leandro had already slung Akira back over his shoulder and was bouncing impatiently in front of the growing opening that lead down to the main sector. He jumped off onto the dusty concrete floor several feet below, not willing to wait until the lift had properly grounded itself. Not wasting any time, Leandro began making the trek down the long hallway leading deeper into the facility.

“Always so impatient,” He heard Petra tut behind him.

“Yeah, well I’m with Leandro on this one, actually.” He heard Hunk fall to the floor with a loud thud. “It’s stroganoff night in the cafeteria.”

Petra sighed but hopped down after them regardless. “...fine. I suppose a sense of urgency isn’t the worst possible thing right now--K’s going to be annoying when he wakes up.”

“I second that.” Hunk sniffed, “I still don’t understand why we keep trying to catch these, like, super deadly guys. Like, us specifically. I mean, both Petra and I are techs, strictly speaking. And I for one could go for a lot less danger in my life.”

Leandro whirled around on them, shifting his pace, so he was walking backward. “Pffff, for the money obviously. Do you know how many credits this guy’s worth?” He turned back around, purposefully bouncing Akira up on his shoulder for good measure. Although the action didn’t come without a sharp pain to his upper arm. He winced.

There was another loud groan from Hunk’s stomach. “Ugh, well I hope he’s worth at least a bowl of stroganoff.”

“Please. I bet we could buy a hundred thousand bowls with what he’ll be pulling.”

“Hey, can we just focus on getting him back to Allia first? Leandro, you walk slower when you chatter,” Petra, who’d appeared at his elbow, poked him roughly in the shoulder.

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Leandro griped. Jeez, Petra could be kind of a tight ass sometimes.

When Akira first came to, he decided not to open his eyes.

It had been the first time. The first time anyone had not only come close to catching him, but somehow actually gone and done it. He’d been cocky, too confident in the fact he was dealing with another group of morons. He’d misstepped. Had discarded his usual air of caution and skepticism, and screwed up big time.

This was his fault.

He’d gotten so...accustomed to dealing with the Galra. It was easy, way too easy, to slip seamlessly under their noses for the privileged group of idiots they were. All purple hair and pointy ears and heads full of fluff. They were nothing.

Bounty hunters had been a problem when he’d first started out and had begun getting good at what he did. As workers in an occupation alarmingly similar to his own, and very often not Galra, they were a little trickier to deal with. But nothing impossible. And after a while, enough stories had begun floating around the undercity, most of them left him alone as well.

But these people...he had definitely not pegged them as a threat. For pete’s sake, they’d fired a harpoon gun at him. Sure it hit, but he still didn’t think they were anything more than stupidly lucky.

No...he’d been wrong about that. Everything about this operation was rigged from the get-go. Purposefully orchestrated to look like a series of happy accidents to get him to lower his guard. A carefully calculated ploy masked under the cover of an amateur’s attempt at making a quick buck. That was the only reason he’d fallen for such an obvious trap. It was kind of brilliant, actually. He had no doubt it had been the short one with the glasses who’d brewed it. She seemed like the type.

Still, it made his skin boil.

Akira had no doubt he’d be running free by the end of the night, but this time he would be doubly sure to act with caution. So, best he bide his time and play unconscious a little while longer.

His hands were restrained, that was the first thing he could discern. And he was on the floor, propped up carelessly against a wall. There was this terrible pain in his chest too, distinct from the general ache that was pulsing through the rest of him. Akira wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a couple ribs in the accident.

There were at least three people in the room besides himself: the lot that had crashed his bike earlier. They were chatting about something. The reckless one, Leandro, seemed to be talking rather energetically with who he was fairly certain was the smaller one with glasses about some scarf he’d seen in a store today. The bigger fellow would chime in every once in a while, mostly complaining about how long they’d have to wait here.

Akira was wondering the same. Although...waiting for what?

As if in answer to his question, he heard a door somewhere to his far right click open, and the room fell silent. Two pairs of footsteps entered. One stalled by the entrance, but the other didn’t stop until it was nearly beside Akira. Chairs scraped harshly across the floor, and the others joined the mystery person, situating themselves to his left.

Leandro was the first to speak up. “Aaaaand here he is! Our ticket to seven million credits. Neat, clean, and only a little bruised. I almost got my throat sliced open to get him here, you know.” Honestly, Akira had been regretting not cutting the kid open. Then he wouldn’t be in his mess. And honestly, he’d rather be lying back on the street with a hole in his head than have to listen to this guy talk about men’s apparel.

“I’d venture he’s more than a ‘little’ bruised,” said the smaller one, “I’m a bit concerned about his condition, actually. We ended up knocking him out with an electrical shock measuring nearly 10k in wattage, and while his breathing and heartbeat seemed regular -- albeit a bit weak -- he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Hmmm. I don’t think that’s quite true,” This voice was new, not placeable to the three from earlier. It seemed to belong to the person who had just entered. It was soft and held a kind sort of warmth. “Come on then Akira, no point in playing possum any longer.”

Akira’s eyes slid open. The voice belonged to a woman with darker skin and gentle eyes. Standardly beautiful, she had long sheets of white hair that curled and weaved down her back in an elegant ponytail. The kindness in her face and the strength in her posture radiated the energy of a natural-born leader. Even more interesting were the two lighter marks beneath her eyes. They looked like little chevrons and shone the faintest shade of blue.

“Altean...” Akira whispered, finding his voice incredibly weak.

The woman nodded, flashing a smile far more genuine than he’d expect to come from any sort of bounty hunter. “Indeed.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s been faking it this whole time?!” Leandro gaped.

Akira leveled a rather nasty glare at him. He’d known the guy all of ten minutes, and he was already starting to piss him off.

“Leandro,” the short one hissed, elbowing him harshly in the ribs. He fell silent, but not before meeting Akira’s gaze with an equally intense stare.

“Akira, was it?” He turned his attention back to the Altean woman. She gave him another encouraging smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I...” he turned to look at the other three, then back at the Altean. “What’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Leandro puffed his chest out proudly, “We’re gonna turn you in for that big ol’ bounty you got sitting on your head. So we got more, ya know, credits and junk--oof! Petra! Stop doing that!” He turned to glare at the one named Petra, who had just elbowed him again.

“Shut it!” She grumbled, annoyed.

Akira sighed. “You’re bounty hunters then?”

“Occasionally,” the Altean said mysteriously.

“I just...I’m sorry, but I’m not really following. Why am I here? Why are you being so nice, who are you people?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” the Altean beamed. “We are an organization known as the 'Knights of the Coalition of Voltron’ -- or if you’d prefer, simply ‘Voltron’ suffices. We serve as an anti-government, anti-galra agency that seeks to dethrone King Zarkon and return power to the many by reinstituting rightful, Altean rule over this land. We seek justice, fairness, and wellbeing for all citizens of this empire. As for why I have brought you to us,” her tone grew direly serious, “I have a proposition to make.

“Akira Kogane, I would like to invite you to join our number as an agent, and serve alongside us as a knight of Voltron as we tear down this wretched empire.”