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saywhatjessie · 4 years

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Toss a Coin to Your Spin Class

I did a Fandom Trumps Hate and had a great time. Witcher gym au, fuck it. 3.3k [Ao3]

Yennefer collapsed in the wrong direction on the weights bench next to him and Geralt didn’t even turn his head.

She let loose a huge dramatic groan of agony, her usual lead-in to gym-time conversation. Geralt grunted in response. His usual response to everything.

“I despise the double standard of conventional beauty requirements more than I could possibly say,” she started. “For you it’s completely fine to bulk up like some barely sentient mountain but for me I must add cardio and endurance training to my weightlifting regimen if I’m to maintain any kind of toned physique as is required of me by our terrible misogynistic society.”

Geralt grunted in response.

Yennefer sighed and flipped over, back to the weightlifting bench so she could at least look as if she would be using the equipment properly. “I took that spinning class they keep advertising on the front bulletin board. It kicked my arse.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow but paid her no attention beyond that, continuing with his reps.

Yennefer generously waited for him to place his bar back on the rack, letting him take his time to respond to that clearly outrageous statement.

“I have seen your arse, Yen.” Geralt responded, finally. “I have to imagine you’re exaggerating.”

Yennefer preened a bit at the compliment but let loose another sigh. “I’m not. The relentless twink who teaches is a vicious tyrant. He picked on me immediately.”

Geralt’s attention had already been caught by Yennefer’s specific mention of a twink but the last bit about being picked on compelled him to respond with words. “Picked on you? How?”

Yennefer groaned again, theatrically flipping her hair over her shoulder in a respectable display of defeat. “He called me out as a weightlifter straight away and wouldn’t leave me alone all class, telling me that I wouldn’t last a day in his world and yelling at me to keep up. He was more than lovely by the end when I had actually managed to hold on for the whole class but I was so exhausted I couldn’t move. He laughed at me even as he helped me out of his room.”

There was far too much in that to unpack, Geralt just latched on to the first part. “He thinks weightlifters are weak?”

Yennefer shrugged. “It’s not like he’s wrong. Look at me.”

“Yes, but you’re…” Geralt trailed off, Yennefer’s expression working like a spell to dry his words right up.

“Yes?” She prompted, poisonously.

Geralt grunted in a way that would have sounded like someone clearing their throat in embarrassment if Geralt ever did anything as pedestrian as that.

“I’m not weak,” he answered, simply.

Yennefer hummed. A dangerous sound. The rattle of a snake before it lunges.

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair the other way, to punctuate her ‘well’. “Care to place a bet on that?”

Geralt found himself scanning his gym pass that next Wednesday at 6 o'clock in the morning.

This wasn’t unprecedented: Geralt worked from home, so most of his self-appointed socialization came from visiting the gym. And he often went early in the morning because, even if the gym was mostly empty, it still counted as socialization to be in a place other people were.

The difference was, instead of heading straight to the rowing machine to warm up or the weightlifting benches for his daily reps, he waited, glumly, outside the dark, glass-encased studio where the spin class was supposed to take place.

He took Yennefer up on her bet. He hadn’t wanted money: he was mostly doing this for pride (and bragging rights), but if Yen won, she got to pick Geralt’s outfits for the week.

Geralt’s outfits usually defaulted to the gym clothes he worked out in, seeing as that was his only reason to get dressed, and that consisted mostly of black cutoff sweats and a black muscle tank. Which is what he wore now.

The assembled crowd seemed to be mostly chattering moms, here for an early morning workout before they had to get their kids to school. Or there were some professional looking women, getting their class in before a day at the office. Mostly women.

There were at least two other men, speaking to each other, but from what Geralt could guess, they were likely here to ogle the twink spin instructor Yennefer had mentioned rather than any desire to ride a stationary bike to music for an hour.

All of them gave him a wide berth.

The doors opened at exactly 6:15, a mousy looking brunette guy peeking his head out with a grin. “Okay, true believers, who’s ready to sweat?”

Some of the moms sent up a practiced sounding “Whoo!” but the professional looking women just offered the guy a smile and made their way past him through the door, beelining toward the bikes in the middle.

Geralt hung toward the back, letting everyone head in before him, sure there would be a bike in the back corner he could claim when he got in there.

The mousy guy stopped him at the door with a hand on his chest.

“You’re new,” the guy said, looking up at Geralt with a teasing curiosity.

Geralt didn’t bother to reply. What he’d said hadn’t been a question.

The guy grinned, taking a step back and crossing his arms, blocking Geralt’s entrance to the studio. His frame was slight but muscled, his outfit a neon-hooded but sleeveless crop-top and a pair of running shorts like something out of postcard from South Beach from the 90’s. This was definitely the twink Yennefer had mentioned.

“And not very friendly,” the guy observed, looking Geralt up and down. “What, were you planning on sitting in the back of the room to brood?”

Geralt grunted. It was close enough to what he’d come to do.

The guy grinned wider. “I’m afraid that won’t do. You see we like to welcome every new student to my class of spin with a featured front row seat. That way I can best review your performance and decide what best to focus on in upcoming classes.”

Geralt grunted again, showing his teeth in a way that was more sneer than smile. “I just came to finish one class.” he growled.

The guy’s eyebrows hitched up and he actually let out a surprised little scoff. “Oh, you think you’re going to finish class today?”

Geralt grunted in a way that couldn’t have more clearly conveyed ‘Obviously’ if he’d said the word aloud.

Mr. Twink Spin Instructor clicked his tongue sceptically, again looking Geralt over, his eyes lingering on his shoulders and neck. “We’ll see about that.”

Geralt felt like he was going to die.

“That’s right everyone! We’re feeling it, we’re loving it, and now get ready to kick it up! Here we go! Everyone off your seat!”

Geralt attempted to stand in his stirrups but his legs gave out immediately. His tailbone connected painfully with the seat of the stationary bike.

The instructor had been perfectly accommodating at the start, leading Geralt to a bike at the front and helping him adjust his settings. He showed Geralt how to adjust the bike’s resistance and helped strap his feet into the stirrups that were in place of pedals. For safety.

Or just to keep him as a prisoner as he struggled and was verbally abused for it.

“Everyone is doing so wonderfully except our lovely blond mountain up front. Come on Mr. Grumpy, where’s your spirit?”

Geralt didn’t even have enough breath to grunt. He had no idea how this man could talk so much.

“Couple more pushes and then we have our decline. Then we’re onto sprints!”

Geralt huffed in a way that only vaguely resembled the word ‘fuck’.

He finished the pushes but couldn’t physically sit up in his seat for the decline. He was collapsed on the handlebars and couldn’t move.

He’s not sure when his legs stopped, only that the instructor was very loudly making fun of him.

“And it looks like our big strong muscle man is down for the count. Now, friends, let’s not mock him. It’s unkind to lambaste someone’s weaknesses.”

Geralt couldn’t pick up his head, but he curled four of his fingers down in a very weak approximation of the bird. The instructor laughed, jovially.

Geralt’s breath evened out in time, but his limbs would not cooperate with him as he tried to pick up with the workout. He managed to undo his feet from the stirrups, his arse slipping off the seat, slick from his sweat. He got his feet on the ground and stumbled out from the dark and loud room to spare himself the second half of the class. And his torment.

The instructor did take a parting shot as he left: “Excellent work finishing class, Mr. Muscles! Please do come back soon.”

Yennefer was extremely smug.

Geralt was nothing if not a man of his word so he arrived at the gym the next day and took her proffered garments without comment, ducking into the locker room to change.

It was the loudest leopard print jumpsuit he had ever seen. Geralt was disgruntled and impressed: where had she even found something like this in his size?

He did his workout as normal. He noted the extra stares he got from surrounding lifters but they said nothing so neither did he.

Yennefer talked a mile a minute, her breath not even stuttering with her reps, and all Geralt could think about was that damn twink who’d made fun of him. How had he instructed that whole class and still had the energy and breath to talk and cheer everyone on the entire time? He’d never even paused in his litany: constant encouragements and critiques and instructions and, in Geralt’s case, cheerful insults. It would have been admirable if it hadn’t been so annoying.

Perhaps there was value in such high intensity cardio.

Geralt scanned his gym card at the same time the next week, back for the spin class.

This time he had brought a 32 oz water bottle, a sweat towel so he wouldn't slip off the seat (again) and even more resolve.

He was also wearing an obscenely tight and tiny crop top and booty shorts with “Are u Nasty?” printed across the arse. This was the last day of Yennefer’s punishment and of course she’d saved the most ludicrous outfit for last.

The outfit did make him more interesting to the assembled crowd, it seemed, but all it took was a sneer from Geralt and they were minding their own business again. Or they weren’t outwardly gawping, at least, which was something.

When the instructor peeked his head out to welcome them to class that week his eyes instantly caught on Geralt and he positively lit up.

“You’re back!” he said, not even bothering to greet the other students. “I did not think you would be! Much less dressed like this.”

“Lost a bet,” Geralt volunteered for no reason he could discern. He didn’t need to explain himself to this guy. Nor justify what he was wearing. What business was Geralt of his?

“I’ll have to thank the bet commissioner should I ever meet them.” the guy mumbled, his eyes lingering on Geralt's exposed sternum. It really was an extremely short crop top.

Geralt just grunted, watching the instructor watch him.

“I didn’t properly introduce myself last time,” the instructor said, dragging his eyes up from Geralt’s navel to his face. “I’m Jaskier.”

Geralt grunted again but, after a moment of consideration, answered “Geralt.”

Jaskier grinned. “Glad to be acquainted,” he said. “Shall we begin class?”

Geralt was able to grab a bike in the back this time for which he could only be grateful: he knew his arse was falling out of these shorts and he was reluctant to subject the others to it.

He did better in this class. He drank water when they had a moment, though the guzzling of it did serve to make him feel ill. He wiped his sweat at intervals but dropped his towel halfway through and had to do without it for the rest of class. He couldn’t bend far enough to the floor to pick it up.

Even if Geralt was doing better, Jaskier still picked on him, even in the back of the class. Jaskier seemed to have decided he liked him. He told Geralt to lift his knees higher or try to hold his core and not bounce as much or “Do this bit without holding the handle bars”.Geralt followed his instructions, because he wasn’t a quitter, but he was sure each time he tried he embarrassed himself more.

He made it longer this time but still found himself collapsed over the handlebars before the end of class, unable to move. He didn’t bother dismounting his bike and making his way out this time, knowing he’d have to walk all the way through the other bikes to get there: the door was at the front of the room. And Geralt was happier to wait out the class than suffer that humiliation again.

So Jaskier teased him for his useless vanity muscles again (and, seriously, why were all of the insults about his muscles?) but by the time Geralt was officially spent, Jaskier didn’t linger on his presence for long.

By the time class was over, Geralt was feeling relatively back to normal if not completely sore all over. He undid his stirrups and bent to retrieve his towel, coming face to face with Jaskier when he stood back up.

He was grinning, of course. “You did better today.”

Geralt grunted, ignoring the dirt and grime from the towel’s time on the floor and using it to wipe his neck. “I always aim to improve.”

Jaskier smiled wider. “An admirable quality in a man.” he winked.

Geralt grunted again, turning his attention to his water bottle, unscrewing and re-screwing the top. “Any tips?”

Jaskier hummed, leaning against the front of Geralt’s bike. He was dressed similarly to last week, but this time with a blue-purple color palette, more berry look than the lemon-lime of last week.

“Try doing cardio between classes, too,” he answered, his eyebrows arched in a superior looking way. “Build up your endurance.”

Geralt grunted in a way that could have been construed as a ‘thanks’ before pushing off the bike and making his way out.

He heard Jaskier call out behind him: “See you back next week!”

Jaskier did see him back next week. And the next week, and the week after that.

After those first two classes, Jaskier got extremely, weirdly supportive. Every minute longer Geralt made it in class from the week before, Jaskier would praise him and give him compliments. Geralt was equally put off and flattered by it. Once, Jaskier said "Look at this white-haired Hercules, moving his muscle around. He's struggling but he's getting there!” when he’d had them do a lot of increased resistance sprints. And another time, during a speed run, he’d said “How do you move your huge body so fast? You're doing amazing!" Which was at once patronizing and nice to hear. He did not need to be babied, to be treated like a toddler just learning to ride a bike. But the way the spin instructor smiled at him did make him feel as if he’d achieved something.

Whether that something was an achievement with spin classes or something else was hard to say and no one’s business.

Yennefer had not been keeping up with Geralt’s continued attendance of the spin class. She was not usually at the gym that early and didn't catch Geralt until he was well into his workout, so she didn’t even know he’d been practicing cardio. She herself had been weighing the merits of taking up lap swimming which, while with the unfortunate side effect of making her feel like she’s drowning, also meant she could show off her fabulous physique and look sexy coming out of a pool, which were both extremely important to her.

Geralt, as someone who was fond of watching Yennefer get out of a pool, supported this. He also supported this as a way to steer her away from the spin classes, but one ulterior motive was enough. Yen wouldn’t go looking for another.

It wasn’t until the fourth class – a full month of failure and doing cardio as a warm-up before he lifted in the days between classes – that he could make it through a full class, not only having completed the exercise, but not feeling as if he wanted to die.

Jaskier made the whole class clap for him. Geralt gave them an awkward wave in acknowledgement.

His goal was to make it through an entire class. And now he had. He could give up the secrecy: there was no reason to come back.

Except Jaskier was skipping over to him after the class, smile wide in congratulations.

“Well done Mr. Muscle Man!” Jaskier said, clapping Geralt on each shoulder, shaking him a bit with his enthusiasm. “Oh what a journey it’s been! And now here you are!”

“Here I am,” Geralt growled, but in a fonder way than he’d thought himself capable of.

This instructor was extremely annoying. But somewhere along the way Geralt had become incredibly endeared to him.

“You really have done great,” Jaskier told him, his face less bright and more soft. He stood with his hands on his hips, swaying a bit as if the loud music from the class were still affecting him. His outfit was softer today as well: a forest green rather than neon monstrosity. It matched closer to Geralt’s usual black. “I do hope you come back.”

Geralt grunted. He didn’t have any reason to come back. He’d proven he could make it a whole class. He’d done what he’d gone there to do.

But–

“It’s not like I have anything else going on at this time,” he admitted, voice low.

Jaskier’s answering grin was loud.

“Excellent! Now I don’t have to do something stupid like ask you on a date just to see you again.”

Geralt blinked, fumbling his water bottle, the lid of which he’d been carefully unscrewing and rescrewing.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Haven’t I just said?” Jaskier answered, his eyes glittering with the same mischief Geralt had seen when they’d first met. “To see you again.”

Geralt grunted, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “But now I’ve said I’ll come back to class you’re not interested in a date?”

Jaskier cocked his head, his sweaty hair falling past his eyes. “Are you asking?”

Geralt blinked again, biting his lip. He felt like he had been tricked, but he wasn’t completely angry about that.

“If I did,” he started, his already deep voice going deeper as he took half a step closer. “What would be your answer?”

Jaskier looked up at him, his neck stretching back the further he had to look up. “Why don’t you ask and find out.”

Geralt growled and Jaskier just continued to grin at him. The spark in his eye had become a smoldering fire and Geralt was becoming more and more interested in being consumed.

“Let’s go for a drink.” He said, his voice getting even lower, stepping even closer.

It wasn’t a question but Jaskier grinned and answered anyway.

“Yeah, okay.”

Jaskier didn’t take a single step back. He didn’t lean away. He stiffened his chin and met Geralt’s eye.

Yennefer was going to be so smug.

#The Witcher #oops I wrote a thing #Fandom Trumps Hate #Geralt #Jaskier

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stardust-writer · 4 years

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beautiful ghost [Mystic Messenger Week Day 7]

Written for @mysmeweek2020‘s 7th day prompt: a Free Day! This is so rushed because it was meant to be posted earlier, but my laptop decided to shut down and stay that way for over six hours. I might revamp this later in the future, but it will stay this way for now.

Summary: Areum wakes up in a hospital and can't find Jihyun.

Warning/s: Near death experience, comatose, swearing, Spoilers for V Route

A/N: I have a different OC for each route. Areum Song is the OC I use for Jihyun/V’s route. Other OCs may appear, but for this work, Areum takes on the MC’s role. This work contains information that cannot be deemed accurate. I’m no medical expert, so please do not consider anything I’ve written here as something that could happen in real life.

Song While Writing: Beautiful Ghosts - Taylor Swift

“Areum.”

“What is it?”

The look Jihyun gave her was concerning. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Perhaps it was just the pouring rain, it made it difficult to see, after all. Still, the energy that her husband was emanating did little to soothe her nerves.

“Nothing,” he said simply. The traffic light turned red and the pedestrian light switched to green. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her further under the safety of the umbrella he held. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

Areum quirked an eyebrow, but smiled nonetheless. They walk off onto the pedestrian lane.

“I love you, too, Jihyun.”

There it is again, a twinge of sadness in his mint-colored eyes. She wanted to ask about it but before she could even open her mouth, a flash of light blinded her vision and everything went dark.

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The first thing she registered was the beeping of the heart monitor.

It didn’t immediately occur to Areum that she was in a hospital until she heard the unmistakable chatter of medical terms from above her.

Bright light clouded her vision as she attempted to open her eyes.

“Areum! Oh, thank goodness!” A woman that looked like an older version of herself came forward. Tears pricked at her eyes as she cupped Areum’s face with her hands.

“Mom?” Areum rasped. “What happened?”

“It’s okay, honey,” her mom breathes, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. "You were in a car accident, but you’re okay now.”

She held the hand against her face, feeling the familiar warmth. The haze that clouded her brain began to disappear and suddenly it all came back. The pouring rain, the barely visible pedestrian lane, the sound of a horn. Jihyun’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“Jihyun,” Areum said. She tried to sit up, but her mother pushed her back down gently. “Mom, where’s Jihyun?”

Her mother's brows knit together.

"Who?"

"Jihyun," Areum breathed. "My husband?"

There's a moment of silence. Areum felt a tension build in the room. Her mother stared at her strangely then laughed nervously.

"That's funny, sweetheart." Her mother caressed her hair, still smiling. Areum could only look on, confused. "Husband! I suppose you had kids, too?"

"Mom," Areum pushed her mother's hand away and made another attempt to stand up. "I'm serious! Where's Jihyun?"

The laughter in her mother's eyes disappeared. It shifted to concern. She meant to say something, Areum knew because she parted her lips, but a doctor approached before anything could be said.

"Song Areum?" The doctor addressed her.

Warily, Areum nodded her head in recognition.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Lee Hyeok. How are you feeling?"

"I'd feel better if someone told me where my husband is."

A look of realization then sympathy crossed Dr. Lee's face. Areum wanted to ask what made him throw such a look at her.

"Ah, before that, I'd just like to ask you a quick question." He smiled the way professionals did, charmingly and reassuringly, but without depth. "Do you know what date it is today? Or rather, what day your accident happened on?"

"Of course," Areum said. The fact that he said 'what day' like she'd been asleep for longer than a couple of hours bothered her. "It's July sixteen, twenty-twenty."

The same look passed over the doctor's face and beside him, her mother looked like she had just been struck by lightning.

"Ah. Alright, before anything else I'd like to inform you that when you were brought to the hospital on the day of your accident, you were in pretty bad shape." The doctor tried to send her another reassuring smile, but Areum had her guard on. At the moment, she had only been half-listening and her other half was still trying to figure out where Jihyun was. "We had to get you into surgery immediately and you fell into a coma."

Areum's attention immediately snapped right back to Dr. Lee.

"I was in a coma?"

Dr. Lee nods.

"For how long?"

There's another moment of silence. Areum could practically see the gears turning in the doctor's head, wondering if she could handle the answer.

Her mother was the one that stepped forward.

"You've been in a coma for four years, darling."

Areum felt her heart sink. It was like the world had disappeared. All she could hear in her head was 'four years'. She'd been asleep for four years. Then, a thought crossed her mind.

"Jihyun," she said. "What about him? Is he okay? He was with me during the accident."

The thought of Jihyun no longer being there crossed her mind. Jihyun not surviving. Her hands were shaking, she couldn't handle it if that were the case.

"Please, tell me if he's alright!" She begged.

Dr. Lee took a breath, then faced Areum with a serious stare.

"Ms. Areum, when a patient goes into comatose, they only become unresponsive on the outside. The brain is still very much active, and may sometimes play tricks."

Areum only looked at him with a confused expression. This wasn't the answer she was looking for.

"There are accounts of people who go into comatose and still stay aware of their surroundings, like hearing the people close by," Dr. Lee continued. "Others have accounted that it was like they had a brief, unrealistic dream where they met with 'God' or a respected and loved person that has passed on. And some have said that while in a coma, their brains created a world of their own."

"I...I don't understand." Areum said.

Dr. Lee gave her another pitiful look. Areum was beginning to get pretty tired of that expression. She turned to her mother to say as much, except she shared the same look as Dr. Lee.

"Today's date is July Sixteen, Twenty-Twenty." Dr. Lee said simply. "Your accident happened four years ago, on July Nine, Twenty-Sixteen."

The blood froze in her veins. Nothing was making sense to Areum. A headache was beginning to form, and she could barely register the doctor's next words.

"It is highly likely that your brain created some world of its own, syncing from the time you were in the accident to today, when you woke up. There's a huge chance that the memories you have right now are all just dreams your mind conjured while you were in the coma."

"No," Areum breathed.

It was impossible. She remembered it all so vividly. Saeran luring her to the Mint Eye, Jihyun's first attempt to rescue her, their wild escape with Luciel's help. She remembered Vanderwood, Jumin, Yoosung, Jaehee, Zen—even Elizabeth the third! She remembered the day Jihyun proposed, how he lifted her up and spun her around when she said yes. She remembered the day of their wedding, when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, had their first dance, and left for their honeymoon.

They were all so clear in her head, they couldn't just be dreams.

"No, you're lying." Areum squeezed her eyes shut. The more she thought about it, each memory became hazier. "You're lying! Where's Jihyun?"

"Sweetheart, look at me, please."

Tears were now leaking down her cheeks, even as Areum did her best to shut her eyes tight. Her mother was pulling her into her arms now. She struggled, still calling for Jihyun.

"Darling, I know this all must be so overwhelming for you," her mother said. Her voice was trembling, and Areum felt the telltale drip of tears as her mother held her tight. "And I'm so sorry that it's happening. Let's just take a deep breath and get some rest first, okay?"

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A week passed.

Dr. Lee came in to check in on her everyday, each time trying to ease her into the reality of things. That Jihyun and her life with him was just a figment of her comatosed imagination. Areum refused to believe it.

She didn't want to. Her heart ached at the mere thought of it all, but even she couldn't deny it anymore. Things began to make sense when she took it into consideration.

The day Saeran lured her into the Mint Eye was July Nine, Twenty-Sixteen. She had no recollection of ever having the app he used to contact her initially, and she just went along with his early instructions without giving it much thought. The sly comments that Luciel made in the chatroom, indicating some sort of fourth wall that never seemed to make sense at the time. The way Jihyun looked at her the last time she saw him—eyes filled with a sadness that Areum only realized now meant it was time for them to part ways.

She felt a sob escape her throat. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

Areum loved Jihyun so deeply, so truly. She had an entire life with him and was ready to spend the rest of it just by his side. The fact that all those happy memories—the happiest she had—were simply figments of her imagination crushed her soul.

"Jihyun," she sobbed. She yearned for his strong arms to wrap around her, for him to press a kiss to her cheek and whisper that they would get through this, as he always did when she was upset. Except, the more she thought about it, the harder it became to imagine.

The more she tried to remember all her memories in the world she created, the faster they faded.

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Three years later

Areum still thought about it sometimes. After she had been discharged from the hospital, she found herself trying to recreate the traces of the world she built in her mind.

She went to the ballroom she suspected that they always held the RFA parties at, to the mountains where Mint Eye's building would have been, or to all the places she and Jihyun would have frequented.

But after a while, even she lost sight of what she was doing.

The memories began to fade faster and faster, until all she had left was the memory of her waking up from her coma.

Wait, no. That wasn't true.

At night, in her dreams, the memories sometimes came back. Areum would feel a sense of peace as she's brought back to the world she's grown used to, to the people she loved and adored. But come morning time, they all disappeared, leaving her with a vague sense of sadness. The best she could hold onto was the ghost of a memory, one where she danced with a familiar warmth, but couldn't picture his face.

These days, the only place she revisited was the coffee shop she suspected she and Jihyun used to go to all the time. At this point, she's forgotten why she decided on that shop. She just knew that she liked the way they made her coffee, and that she felt at peace whenever she was there.

Today, she stopped by before heading home from work. People always asked her why she came after work instead of before, but Areum would just smile and shrug. Because even she didn't know, she just felt like doing it that way.

"Hello and welcome! What can I get you today?"

Ateum smiled at the clerk, at Jaehee. Jaehee began working at the café about a year and a half ago, apparently after leaving an office job she thought she could be content with. Areum once thought that maybe she's seen her before, but nothing came to mind. Still, she introduced herself and they've reached a point where Areum might even call them friends.

"Hey, Jaehee. I'll have a Caffe Americano for here, please."

"That's unusual," Jaehee commented.

"It is?"

"Caffe Americano is a little more bitter than your usual choices," she explained, punching the code in the register to generate a receipt. "You just always get a drink on the sweeter side, that's all—your total is 5,000 won."

"Huh. I never thought about that." Areum handed her the money and left to find a seat as she waited for her drink.

The café was a little slow today, so Jaehee left the register to her coworker—who Areum still couldn't remember the name of after all this time—and got a start on her drink.

Gentle music played through the speakers and echoed around the shop. Areum closed her eyes, smiling a little. The notes were familiar, and in her head she could imagine herself laughing as she danced around a hazy room with a faceless entity. She was so lost in her little daydream that she barely noticed the sound of the cafe’s door bell ring.

“Assistant Ka—”

“She’s not your assistant anymore, Jumin.”

The familiarity of the voices snapped Areum out of her reverie.

She looked around the cafe wildly, but stopped herself. She tried to remember what made the voices so familiar, but nothing came to mind.

“Caffe Americano for Areum!”

She shook her head in an attempt to reduce the strange paranoia she developed and headed for the counter. She smiled at Jaehee gratefully as she took the cup out of her hands. She took a tentative sip and almost immediately scrunched up her nose.

Jaehee’s right, she thought. This is too bitter.

She turned to leave. She’d rather just drink the coffee than tell Jaehee she didn’t like it. Except, before she could even take two steps away from the counter, a body collided with hers and spilled the hot liquid all over her.

“Ah, it’s hot!”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

There it was, that familiar voice again. Areum’s gaze snapped up, and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. In front of her, donning a similar surprised look, was a man with mint-coloured hair and eyes.

“I...er...It’s okay,” Areum managed to stammer. Those bright eyes were so familiar. The way his brows creased with worry almost made her want to smile for no reason other than that she found it strangely endearing.

“No please,” he said, grabbing a tissue off the counter and offering it to her. “It’s my fault. Let me buy you another one.”

“No, really, it’s alright,” Areum laughed this time. It felt natural, so easy. She took the tissue gratefully and began to dab at her blouse. “I didn’t really like the drink much anyway. But thank you, er…?”

“Jihyun,” the man supplied, hastily handing a hand out for her to shake. “Kim Jihyun.”

There’s a twinge in Areum’s heart at the mention of the name, but she can’t seem to figure out why. Instead of paying it any mind, she took Jihyun’s hand and gave it a shake.

“Song Areum.”

They’re both silent for a moment, just staring at each other, hands still clasped together.

“I’m sorry,” they say in unison. “But have we met before?”

#MysMeWeek2020 #v | jihyun kim #v | jihyun kim / original character #stardustwriting

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cassercole · 5 years

Text

the one with the band

SHIP: PROCTOR-ROGERS FAMILY FEELS RATING: TEEN WORD COUNT: 2,943 PROMPT: Just a fun little prompt with Steve and Tristan -- his younger son! TAGGING: (permanent tag list): @whindsor @hrhatbat @fraysquake @sgtbuckyybarnes @elenacarinandherfandoms @chuck-hansens @luucypevensie @mystic-scripture @perfectlystiles @allaboutocs @anotherunreadblog @witchofinterest @hvproductions @heirsoflilith (WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?)

Steve was well aware of how his teenage son was sneaking out at night. And it wasn’t even late at night sneak outs that he had assumed he would have to deal with, no. Tristan would leave after dinner with no word as to where he was going or when he would back. And right through the front door -- not even through a window like the countless movies and tv shows had prepared Steve for.

The first couple of times, he let it slide, thinking his son had at least told his mother where he was going. But when he mentioned it to Q, she told him she had no idea where Tristan was going.

“Why does it matter? He’s back before curfew.” she shrugged while she finished loading the dishwasher with the plates from their earlier dinner.

“Yeah and when did you get back from your teenage antics when you were his age?” he asked, leaning one hand on the counter.

“Before curfew so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything, then I would sneak back out after --” she cut herself off, staring at the open dishwasher for a moment as her words caught up to her. He gave her a pointed look, waiting for the realization to hit, “Oh goddamnit.” she sighed heavily, closing the dishwasher rather dejectedly and then meeting Steve’s look, “We should’ve just stopped with Bonnie. We didn’t realize how lucky we were, not having a kid like me.” she sighed. Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics, knowing she was just fishing for a compliment but not focused enough to give her one.

“I’m gonna see where he’s going.” he told her, pushing off the counter to go get his hoodie from the chair at the table.

“I want to tell you to not to, but if he’s anything like me, he’s probably in a liquor store putting alcohol into his purse.” she sighed again, annoyed that those genes out of everything were the ones that were passed on. Steve gave a dry laugh as he zipped up his hoodie,

“Or in the city, pit-pocketing some rich Wall Street guy.” he added, reminding her of another thing she used to do in her youth.

“Or plotting a break in to a highly secure government facility, then being found with a dead body and a literal smoking gun.” she continued, making Steve pause and look over at her, “Too soon?” she grimaced, knowing it wasn’t. He shook his head, moving over to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than a study group.” he tried to calm both of them down with something rational that their son could be doing. She scoffed at his comment, knowing that wasn’t true.

“If only.” she sighed again, giving him another kiss before he turned to leave.

As with most things in his life, modern technology had made finding Tristan much easier than it would’ve been years earlier. While he did feel a little bad about tracking his son, the fatherly instinct to make sure he was okay outweighed the guilt. Except it only returned when he figured out where exactly Tristan had been going.

The coffee shop in the small town was dimly lit, but plenty crowded as Steve opened the door. Curious to see what was going on, he looked over the sea of people who were all looking in the same direction. Up toward the front of the shop a band was taking their places, all of varying heights and styles, armed with different instruments. It was easy enough to spot Tristan standing to the left of center stage; with his lanky, tall frame and the wild dark curls he had earned from his mother. Surprisingly, he had some sort of electric bass slung over his shoulders and was pretty expertly picking at chords while the rest of the band warmed up.

“Hey, hi,” one of the other members of the band stepped forward to the mic and quieted the crowd, “Hey, we’re Blanket Statement and we’re gonna get started with a couple of covers first and then play you guys some new stuff that our bassist, Tristan, wrote.” the front woman explained the show. Surprise seemed to be the theme of that evening as Steve learned that Tristan was not only able to play the bass, but also in a band. One that had a seemingly large fanbase for the small town they lived in, and was talented enough that he even wrote some songs. He stayed where he was as the band started to play the first of the few covers they had prepared -- two songs he had heard before, a long time before when he lived in DC with Q, and was pleasantly surprised at how good they sounded. The Tame Impala cover the girl sang seemed to be the one people looked forward to the most, and the one Tristan seemed to be having the most fun playing. (Of course it was one of Q’s favorite songs so Steve wasn’t surprised by that).

Then came the songs Tristan had apparently written. Steve waited with bated breath, not knowing exactly how they would sound. It wasn’t like he or Q had any sort of creative writing bone in their bodies. Sure, sometimes Steve would try writing poetry now and then, but it wasn’t one he fostered like his art skills. But musical ones? Nothing. Nada. He remembered seeing a guitar in Q’s apartment in DC however long ago, but it had a thin layer of dust on it like she never ever picked it up. Though, as on theme with the night, he was pleasantly surprised and rather impressed at the songs his kid created. And couldn’t help but grin to himself as Tristan leaned close to his microphone to sing backup with the lead singer.

Of course Steve would be proud of his kids no matter what, but watching his son share his talents and musical gifts and actually look like he was having fun for once in his life ignited a bright flame of pride behind Steve’s sternum. Seeing Tristan pluck at the bass and groove to the beat he was creating was something he never could’ve imagined happening in a hundred years, but he suddenly couldn’t imagine Tristan doing anything else. It was perfect for him.

Not wanting to be caught, Steve ducked out before the show finished. He made his way home where Q was waiting up for him in their bed. He found her reading some sort of trashy romance novel that would do nothing but give her ideas (ones he would be happy to participate in), but when he walked into the room, she marked her page and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head,

“You find him?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm.” Steve nodded, wanting to tease her a bit as he shrugged out of his hoodie and then pulled his shirt over his head, “Guess where.” her eyes widened a bit at his tone and she pushed the covers off of herself,

“Noooo, don’t tell me he was dropping balloons filled with colored powder off the roof of a building at pedestrians.” she groaned a bit, making him laugh.

“Nope.” he crawled onto the bed on all fours, “He wasn’t doing anything illegal.” he assured her, flopping down onto his back so his head hit the pillow, “He was at that little coffee shop on Wyndmoor.” he gestured vaguely to the direction of the coffee shop, moving on once Q nodded, “Playing bass. In his band.” he stressed, raising his eyebrows up and watching his wife’s face for her reaction. Her eyes widened at the word, then her mouth opened a bit at the imagery, then she pulled the corners of her mouth down -- nodding a bit as she thought it over,

“I can see it.” she commented and Steve laughed a bit, “Were they any good?”

“Really good.” he admitted, shifting on his pillow so he was a bit more comfortable and still able to make eye contact with his wife, “They covered that Tame Impala song you like,” she gasped a little at the mention, “and he even wrote a few songs himself. Hopeless romantic stuff, you know.” she awh’ed at the theme of their son’s songs, nudging her husband a bit,

“He gets that from you, you know.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, but knowing she was right. She grinned at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss.

“Think he’ll ever let us come see him play?” she asked, almost hopefully. The pair looked at each other, letting a moment pass before both of them burst into laughter at Q’s ridiculous question. Their son would never let them come watch; they’d ruin his ‘cool factor.’

Still, that didn’t stop Steve from at least sneaking into Tristan’s shows. He enacted the undercover protocol that kept him safe for the year or two that he was an enemy of the government but still wanted to see his wife: dressed in dark clothes, hood or hat always on and pulled over so enough of his face was covered, and he didn’t talk to anyone. He was able to just stand in the back of whatever coffeehouse or underground bar they were in and listen to his son play his songs.

Though his cover didn’t keep for long. One night, he had gotten there too early, which meant Tristan spotted him. He watched his son do a double take and then the easy smile slid off his face, replaced by the stoic -- almost annoyed, expression he usually received from his youngest. God, sometimes he reminded Steve so much of Dawson, it hurt his heart a bit. They would’ve gotten along so well.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked once they were close enough to talk and not cause a scene. His eyes flicked around like he was afraid someone was going to see them, “Is Mom here too?”

“No, no, it’s just me. We found out you were in a band and I just...I wanted to come see you play.” Tristan’s eyes returned to his, looking doubtful but still annoyed.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he scuffed the toe of his Converse against the ground and Steve chuckled,

“No, actually I don’t.” he admitted and Tristan scoffed, glancing away from him, “It’s a nice way to spend a little quality time with you.” he added. They didn’t do much together as it was; Tristan didn’t like baseball or running like Bonnie did. Steve had a hard time finding something they could do as a father-son duo. If this was as close as he was going to get, he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

“What if all our songs are about how much we hate our parents?” he eyed him skeptically, testing him.

“Then you would’ve told us about this much sooner.” Steve volleyed back with a small gesture to the stage. Tristan rolled his eyes, but fell quiet for a moment,

“No, Dad, this isn’t cool. This is my thing, okay? I-I don’t want you here,” he raised his shoulders up while Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt at his words, “I mean if someone recognizes you…” he trailed off, only semi-voicing his insecurities, but it was enough to let Steve understand.

“I’m not trying to steal your spotlight.” he assured his son. He wasn’t even sure if anyone would really know who he was anymore. The world had moved on. There were bigger and better heroes around. He was just content to tend to his garden and go to his kid’s mini-concerts as a random middle-age (or older) dad. “I just wanted to see you play. Or hear you. Or whatever.” he got an eye roll from Tristan, who then shoved his hands into his pockets. He let his kid mull over what he said for a moment. The teen shook his head, letting his wild, dark curls flop around, then heaved a heavy sigh,

“Fine, whatever, but the moment someone asks to take a picture with you --” he pointed a finger at Steve, who raised his hands up in the air, “that’s it, Dad. Seriously. Just stand there. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Just watch.”

“Deal.” Steve agreed to the terms, hoping this coffee shop was dim enough where that wouldn’t be a problem. Tristan eyed him for a moment longer before walking away to rejoin his band.

As much as it killed Steve not to cheer along with the crowd, he tried as hard as he could to respect the rules Tristan put into place. If only because he didn’t want to miss one of the shows. Just like he hadn’t missed one of Bonnie’s track meets or the weird improv shows she did with her community group.

Though he ended up breaking one of the rules by accident after one of the shows Tristan played. While waiting for Tristan to finish up his mingling with people who stayed after the show (Steve was now driving him to the sets), he saw his son talking with a rather pretty girl. His immediate reaction was to take a picture to show his wife later, but as much as technology had improved his life -- it also made it a lot worse. The constant updates had his settings all out of whack which meant when he tried to take a sneaky picture, the flash immediately went off. And he was caught.

Having enough time spent in the field, Steve knew how to quickly exit a bad situation. He exited the coffee shop and headed toward his car, hoping that Tristan hadn’t realized what he had done. But a sharp, loud, “What the fuck, Dad?!” coming from behind him in his son’s angry tone proved him wrong.

Steve froze, then winced, knowing he had messed up and now had to deal with an angry teenager. Really, he’d rather deal with Bruce’s other persona. Much easier to talk to than a hormonal, angry teenager who already disliked him as a base feeling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to commemorate a moment.” he held his hands up in defense, but Tristan ignored the look of innocence.

“Fucking bullshit, Dad.” he snapped out, “You just did the creepiest thing ever. This is why I didn’t want you to come to these!” he gestured back to the coffee shop and again, Steve felt his heart sink a bit at not being wanted by his son. All he wanted to do was support him.

“Plenty of people were taking pictures, Twist.” he used the nickname he used to use when Tristan was a kid, “I was the only one who had the flash on.” he admitted his mistake, making Tristan groan. He fell back on one foot, twisting his torso away from Steve a bit as he looked up to the night sky,

“God! Dad! This is unreal! You can’t just be, like, a normal dad?!” he gestured frustratedly at his father. Steve made a face, tilting his head to the side a bit,

“I feel like this was a very normal dad thing to do.” he pointed out and Tristan groaned again, shoving his hands through his curls,

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from him, heading back to the coffee shop.

“At least let me take you home.” Steve offered, but Tristan didn’t even pause,

“I’ll get a ride!” he called out from over his shoulder. Steve opened his mouth to try and convince Tristan to change his mind, but Tristan spun around on one foot, spreading his arms out wide as he continued, “I think we’ve had enough quality time tonight, Dad.” he shoved the knife a little deeper into Steve’s chest.

After getting home and being made fun of by his wife for not knowing how technology worked, Steve waited up until Tristan got home just to apologize to him again.

“Dad, it’s fine, okay? Just let it go.” Tristan disregarded his apology, heading for the stairs as Steve followed,

“So when’s your next show?” he asked, trying to be casual but Tristan shrugged, not giving him an answer, “Can I come?” he asked with a slight eyebrow raise.

“Fuck no.” Tristan scoffed out, “Not after tonight.”

“Twist, come on.” Steve put his hand on the railing and the other went to rest on his hip, “I just want to see you play.”

“Why?” he asked, turning on the stairs to look down at his dad, “Why is this so important to you?” he raised his shoulders up, looking rather angry and annoyed by his dad taking an interest in his activities.

“Because I like...seeing you excel at stuff.” Steve answered, apparently giving a wrong answer by the way Tristan glared at him,

“Oh, so I’ve just failed at everything else then?”

“No, Trist--no, Jesus. I mean, it’s great to see you doing something that you’re good at and that you love.” His son eyed him warily for a moment, fiddling with the edges of his flannel as he turned over what Steve said, then nodded slowly.

“Alright, yeah, okay.” he turned away from his dad, heading back up the stairs to his room.

“So can I come to another show?” he tried again, more hopeful this time. “Won’t even look in your direction, promise.” he added on to entice him.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Tristan agreed, sounding annoyed, but he agreed. And Steve was going to go to every show he could.

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #**#**writings #queve fam feels #tristan rogers #i kno the gif sucks ok #but i love them #so

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constellationminho · 5 years

Text

The Right Way In Ending A Night Of Terror (M)

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader

Word Count: 15k

Rated: 18+

Warnings: Slight Horror (i tried), Depictions of scary clowns, Smut

**reposted from my old blog**

............

You pulled a long-sleeve shirt over your head, arms slipping through the thin fabric as you grimaced at your alarm clock; 1:47 AM. Leave it to your mom to call and ask to pick up your younger sister from the annual Horror Fest right when you were falling into a deep slumber. The warmth of your pajamas and bed no longer gave you the ease of peaceful sleep as you buttoned up your jeans and dragged your feet through your house to get to your door. As you pushed your feet into your sneakers, you grabbed the closest jacket on the wall hanger and the keys to your car. Unwilling to turn the lights off in your apartment, you left, giving the illusion that you were still home and curled up in your bed.

The night was dark, the moon gave a soft glow as thin puffs of clouds gently weaved through the sky. You yawned as you drove away from home, wishing the car could drive itself so you could take a nap while getting to the outskirts of the city.

It was October, the time of year when people from all around the city drove out to the largest field in the outskirts to visit the long awaited celebration put together by the city’s committee: Horror Fest. It was a week long activity—usually the week of Halloween— where volunteers created haunting mazes throughout the entire field, and people would go and, well, get scared. It was a very popular event and even people from neighboring towns would make the trip to experience the fright. Since it was opening night, you knew your sister had gotten a ticket to go with her friends. You, on the other hand, wanted no part in the festivity. It had been about three years since you attended Horror Fest, and since that night, you had never returned. It wasn’t because you were afraid— on the contrary. You weren’t easily scared, but the whole thing seemed rather…stupid. The costumes, the screaming, the crowds—it never appealed to you. Especially, after the last time you went. You had gone with a guy from your history class, who nearly shit his pants and left you as bait in one of the mazes while he ran to find his way out. Needless to say, you never gave him a call back.

The traffic to the fields was nonexistent, allowing you to drive at a higher speed than the city limit. You just wanted to get your sister, drop her ass at her friend’s house, and get home to finally get the sleep you were deprived from.

You drove down a dirt road that led to a big wooden-like gateway that stood at least twelve feet high. It looked rotten and torn down—effects for the excitement in entering Horror Fest. There were rows of parked cars, and even though you were there for pick-up purposes, there were no spaces to leave your car with the emergency lights on.

“Fuck me,” you groaned under your breath, glancing around to find an empty spot. But like a miracle, as you drove down the third row, you found a parking space in the corner. You parked, making sure not to run over any pedestrian that was just arriving to Horror Fest—which were quite a few since the whole thing shuts down at four in the morning.

The cold breeze sent a shiver through your body as you stepped out your car and began making your way to towards the entrance. Shoving your fisted hands into your jacket pockets, you quickened your pace as you swerved around a group of couples who were laughing giddily due to the enthusiasm of entering mazes. With a loud exhale, you took out your phone and sent your sister a text telling her you were there waiting. You stared at the short lines buying tickets at the booths as others headed towards the entrance where they were checked by security before entering through metal gates. There was a large banner with red lettering that read HORROR FEST in dripping detail over the entrance gates. Not much decoration in the front, but the inside was where it made up for it.

Checking your phone, you yawned; 2:29 AM. Where the hell was that brat? Taking your phone out again, you sent another text.

You: yo, you have 5 fucking minutes to get your ass out here. I have work at 7 [2:29 am]

Glaring at the people barely arriving, your phone vibrated.

DemonSeed: ok be there in a bit. [2:30 am]

Puffing air through your lips, you stood there, shifting your weight onto your right leg. It was one thing to be forced to pick up someone, it was another to wait god-knows how long for them. You checked your phone again but there were no new messages. You drew your jacket tighter around your torso, the cool night beginning to freeze your bones.

“Hey— Hi, yeah, you, with the annoyed scowl.”

You frowned, slowly turning to look over to your right. There was a guy just a few feet from you; black beanie over his head, black jeans, and he wore the same neon orange vest—the one the people selling tickets wore— over a black long-sleeve. His posture was lazy, hair flat against his forehead, hands in his jean pockets, and lips slightly parted.

He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, signaling the ticket booths. “You gonna buy a ticket, or what?”

You eyed him, scrutinizing his persona. “Excuse me? Is that any way to talk to someone?”

He shrugged, shoulders barely even budging. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em. It’s hard to miss someone just standing in one spot, death glaring her surroundings.”

You clicked your tongue, irritated by whoever this was. “I’m standing here because I’m waiting for someone.”

“Ah,” he gave a nod. “Decided to sit opening night out. What? Too scared?” Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him. “Or is it that you’re the boring not-fun-at-all friend from your group that’s inside?”

Unwillingly, you gave him a glance. “Why are you still talking to me?”

“What? Aren’t you enjoying the conversation?” He tilted his head, tongue poking out between his lips as he thought for a moment. “Or,” he continues, drawing back your attention, “you were inside with your boyfriend, but you ditched him.”

You scoffed. This guy was totally trying to flirt with you, and he was the worst at it. Insults weren’t flattery.

“So, which is it? Friends or boyfriend?”

“Neither,” you pursed your lips together.

“Care to elaborate?” The corner of his lips twitching, itching to turn upwards as he watched the scowl settle upon your features. “Or was your boyfriend the coward?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be or something?” You snapped. “It’s pretty obvious you volunteered here.” You motioned towards his vest with your chin.

“Work, not volunteered,” he told you, unaffected by your sudden lash. “Volunteers are only wanted to set up the premises. For the actual nights Horror Fest is in function, people are hired to work.”

“Wow,” you muttered, unamused. “Fascinating. Working from eleven to four in the morning, the dream. You must really hate sleep.”

“I can say the same about you, just standing out here in the cold instead of being under your covers,” he comments, mockery in his tone.

You glared at him, turning your body in his direction. “Can you leave me alone? It’s bad enough I have to be here to pick up my sister and wake up at seven for work, but having you here to annoy the shit out of me is seriously starting to tick me off.” You pointed at him, making this a threatening gesture. “So, just fuck off—” you squint to see the name tag on his vest— “Min Yoongi.”

He stared at you, eyes slightly wide in surprise by your sudden outburst, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Am I bothering you that much, grumpy?”

“What the— Seriously?” You groaned, having had enough of this guy.

“What? You haven’t given me a name to call you by,” he said, hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up.”

You watched his lips part, about to retort when you hear your name being called.

“Y/N!” Your sister jogged over to you. “Sorry, we were at one of the mazes all the way across the field.”

“I said five minutes, Clair,” you hissed, your sister rolled her eyes at you.

“I already told you why we were late.”

You looked around. “Where’s Jane?”

Clair motioned over her shoulder. “Back there, giving some guy her number.” She’s about to look back at you, when she noticed Yoongi standing nearby. “Um, was I interrupting something?”

“No, you were actually saving me— Jane, let’s go!” You shouted, startling Jane as she gives the guy a flirty smile before she made her way over. “Start walking.” You shoved them forward.

“Hey!” Clair frowned.

“Go.” You whispered menacingly.

“Aren’t you going to give that guy your number?” She asked, arching up a brow.

You glanced back, Yoongi was still standing there. “Hell no,” you muttered under your breath.

“Why not? He’s hot,” Clair insisted, giving Yoongi a wave, which he returned.

“Clair!” You scolded through your teeth.

“See you around, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened, turning back to see Yoongi turn on his heel to walk off, a smirk casted over his lips. You grimaced, feeling the urge to go and slap that look off his face, but you much rather be in bed to get the fucking sleep you deserved.

————————

Your fingers flicked through files in the cabinet that almost overflowed with the creme colored papers. A yawn escaped your lips, eyes teared up from the exhaustion. So far this week, you lacked sleep and energy from the constant workload. Two days ago, you almost passed out typing out the outline for your boss because you drove to Horror Fest, and the day after that, your supervisor gave you a due date that had you drinking up to six cans of Coke in one sitting. The thought of your short visit to Horror Fest had your blood boiling. That damn guy—Min Yoongi. You pulled the file you had been looking for and jammed the cabinet shut with a harsh kick. The way he was spoke to you, indifferent and with taunt, it pissed you off then and it pissed you off now. You slammed the file on your desk and plopped down on your chair with a loud huff of annoyance.

“Woah, what’s with the sudden anger?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see your friend, and coworker, Beau standing near the entrance of your cubicle. Her hip was leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed under her chest, her boobs pushed up a bit higher.

“Nothing,” you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “What’s up? Wasting time trying to get Ridden to see your boob job?”

“Excuse you, it’s not wasting time, he snuck a few peeks,” she winked, feeling proud of herself. “But I’m not here to gloat.” Beau walked in and sat on the edge of your desk, wide smile on her lips. “Guess who got VIP tickets to Horror Fest tomorrow?” She asked in a sing song voice, hands clapping lightly. You cocked up a brow, leaning back into your chair. Beau sighed, “Me!” She pointed her manicured finger at you. “And you are coming with.”

“No way,” you quickly commented, turning your chair to face your computer.

“Oh hell no.” She swiveled your chair around so you could face her again. Her eyes narrowed, watching you closely. “You are going. I invited Ivy so the three of us could go and have some fun.” Beau sat up straight, frown on her glossed lips. “You’re ruining the mood and we haven’t even gone yet.”

“You know how I feel about Horror Fest,” you exhaled, feeling a headache coming on as you pressed your fingertips to your temples again.

“Oh boo-hoo,” Beau scoffed, eyes rolling. “Just because some ass ruined your last visit doesn’t mean you have to stop having fun. Seriously, that’s just stupid.” She settled her hands on your shoulders, smile reappearing. “C’mon, Y/N,” she whined, trying to get you to cave. “It’s our day off tomorrow, take a break. It’ll be great, I promise.”

“That’s not the reason I don’t go to Horror Fest, Beau,” you scoffed. “Y’know nothing really scares me. Besides, Halloween is for little kids. Its just a stupid made-up holiday to get people to spend money on loads of cheap candy and torn up costumes.”

Beau moved her head back, blinking a few times before standing. “Wow. You really soured up. Who shoved a stick up your ass at such a young age?”

You exhaled, closing your eyes while you rested your elbow on your desk. Leaning your cheek on your hand, you lazily gazed at her. “Look, I’m fucking dying here. I want to go home and sleep for a week straight, but I have work to do. Something that you should also be doing.” Beau glowered at you, hands on her hips. “I have a deadline to meet by tomorrow, and like you said, its our day off. But guess what? I still have work to get done. That leaves no time to go and fool around at some stupid place where people scream for enjoyment.”

Beau pressed her lips in a tight line, frustrated with the conversation. She shook her head a few times. “You really need to loosen up,” she told you, swaying her hips as she sashayed out your space. “I’m still not taking no as an answer!”

You groaned, resting your forehead on the cool surface of your desk. Knowing Beau, she meant it when she said no wasn’t the answer she was looking for. The sound of someone clearing their throat jolts you up right before looking over to find your supervisor standing in your cubicle. You stumbled onto your feet, forcing a smile.

“Sleeping on the job?” He asked, no tone of joking in his voice.

You shook your head. “No, sir. Just a slight headache.” You watched your supervisor look down at the paper in his hand. His bald head catching the light, making it look shiny, oily under it. He wasn’t so tall, so it was easy to see his head glisten under any brightness.

“Boss wanted me to give you this. Your deadline was moved to tonight.”

“What?” You took the paper he handed you, eyes skimming the details. “That’s too soon. I’ve only done half of the required outline.”

Your supervisor shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. I just enforce them. Make sure you get that head in check. You’re gonna need it,” he told you, leaving you to stress alone in your small working area.

You fell onto your chair, paper dangled in-between your fingertips. “Motherfuck,” you uttered under your breath.

You stayed in your office until late that night, finishing the outline to the best of your abilities. The boss always entrusted you for the finalized outlines because you were one of the most reliable workers with outstanding editorial skills. You couldn’t let that trust slip through your fingers just because you were a little exhausted. Being recognized by your superior would benefit you in the future, getting you a promotion or even a raise in your pay. That’s something you didn’t want to jeopardize.

It took you at least a good hour after finishing to make sure there were no mistakes. You reread again and again before attaching it to an email, sending it off to your boss so he could view it first thing in the morning. Rubbing your face with your hands, you sighed, relieved that it was done and you were able to go home to your lovely bed. You turned off your monitor and your light as you gathered your things, leaving the office. You were the last worker to go home, so you made sure to tell security in the lobby to lock up the floor before exiting the building. Fucking finally.

————————-

You woke up after two in the afternoon the following day. Dazed by the sudden sunlight coming through your curtains, you stretched and yawned, making little noises as your joints softly popped with every different stretch you made. You yawned again, louder, while you rolled your body out of bed and wandered through your home, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Stumbling into the kitchen, you grabbed a glass to pour yourself some water, your phone buzzed somewhere in your living room. With quick steps you looked around the mess you’ve had from not cleaning for the last few days. If your mom saw how your apartment looked, she would definitely blow a fuse.

“Ah-ha,” you breathed, taking your phone from under a pile of jackets muddled together in one corner of your couch. You scrolled through your phone, noticing the abundance of texts from Beau and one from your sister, Clair.

Beau: are you up yet? [10:13 am]

Beau: hellooooo?? Earth to Y/N [10:25 am]

Beau: I fucking swear if you’re ignoring me [10:38 am]

Beau: omg you died didn’t you [11:05 am]

Beau: sleep took your life away [11:19 am]

Beau: for the love of Hugh Jackman’s ass can you please respond [11:32 am]

You giggled at the message. She would mention Hugh Jackman since she’d been sort of obsessed with him after watching the entire X-Men collection a few weeks ago. You kept scrolling through Beau’s spamming.

Beau: omg did you get laid??? Is that why you wont answer??? Lol jk [12:04 pm]

Beau: can you at least text me when you rise from the dead? I’m dying here [12:52 pm]

You shook your head, typing back a response.

You: can’t you let me hibernate in peace? [2:22 pm]

You pursed your lips as you read the last and only text you received from your sister.

DemonSeed: can I borrow a push-up? [9:43 am]

You tsk-ed with a reply.

You: my boobs are bigger than yours. Bra wont fit you [2:24 pm]

You threw your phone aside, you stood up, stretching your arms out before you picked up all the thrown clothes that covered your living area. You weren’t a messy person in general. You liked things organized, you liked cleanliness and accessibility. However, your job had kept you from doing any of that in your home for the last couple of days. You were behind on laundry and there had been no time to go grocery shopping. Not that you cooked. It was a danger to yourself and to the people around you to operate any kitchen appliances. Since a young age, you were never able to cook anything. Your mom tried to teach you, guide you, but you always ended up burning something. Whether it be a towel, your sleeve, or even the water you had boiling. The only things bought during trips to the store were foods that were easy to heat up and, of course, cereal. There were times your mom would come over with containers full of food that could last you a whole week. She worried about you, and as a mother, she couldn’t let you starve or ruin your health by eating junk everyday. But unfortunately, she hadn’t paid a visit in the past few days which meant no home cooked meals.

As you carried your hamper of dirty clothes, you put a load to wash while you cleaned up the kitchen. Checking your refrigerator, you grabbed the last cup of blueberry yogurt for your late breakfast. Your doorbell rung as you put away some dishes, spoonful of yogurt in your mouth, while you hurried over to your door. You weren’t surprised to see Beau standing on the other side, grinning.

“Afternoon lazy ass!” She patted your head before walking in, not waiting for an invitation to enter.

“What’re you doing here?” You held the spoon in your hand, closing the door with your foot as you strode back to the kitchen. “Didn’t you have a date or something?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, dropping herself on your couch. “I met him at the diner a few blocks from here and it was the worst date of my life.”

“Worse than the one with that one guy that ate the piece of pizza off the floor after you dropped it because ‘five second rule’?” You teased, shoving another spoonful of yogurt in your mouth.

“Okay, maybe they’re tied,” Beau laughed. “This guy sneezed over his fries and— oh my god Y/N, he ate them.” She hid her face in her hands, horrified with retelling the events. “He literally sprayed his food with fucking snot and he ate them!”

You scrunched up your face, repulsed by imagining anyone eating snot topped food. “That’s disgusting.”

“Which is why I ended the date early and hid in my car until you texted me back.” Beau looked over her shoulder to see you leaning over your kitchen counter, eating, while still looking displeased with her story. “Buuuuuut,” she elongated her word, “I also came for one more reason.” You played with your spoon, arching up a brow as your friend smiled sweetly at you. “So about those Horror Fest tickets.” You immediately rolled your eyes, turning away to throw the empty yogurt cup and wash your spoon. “Oh come on Y/N,” Beau groaned, hanging her body over the couch so she could see you well. “You can’t let me and Ivy down. The three of us haven’t hung out since July!”

“Beau, I just want to spend my free time here at home. Why can’t we just watch a few movies or something instead?” You asked, cleaning the counter with a napkin.

“Hey.” She pointed at you. “I spent good money on these tickets, and I plan on using them on myself and on you two. Especially since tonight they’re turning the intensity up a notch.”

“So, they were more expensive, weren’t they?” You teased, a smirk on your lips as you rested your chin on your palm.

Beau fell back limply onto the cushions, out of your sight. “Yes,” she muttered with your answer. You watched her hands shoot up in the air dramatically. “Why can’t you just do me a solid and come with us?!” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you. “I promise I’ll buy you a fucking pretzel if you go.” A giggle slipped from your lips, and Beau shot up at the sound, her expression hopeful. “You laughed, that’s a good sign!”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip gently. “Beau,” you sighed loudly. “I really just want to sleep the rest of the day.”

“But,” she added, eyes becoming big, smile widening.

You hesitated in responding, lips pressed into a fine line. “But,” you started, “that pretzel sounds pretty good.”

Beau scrambled to her feet, knocking the pillows off the couch as she ran into the kitchen, almost slipping on your wooden floor. She grabbed the edge of the counter, eyes bugging out in excitement as she inched her face closer to yours. “So you’ll come with?!” She basically shouted.

You bobbed your head back, she was too close and you didn’t need Beau’s spit on your face. With a grunt, your head hung low. “Yeah, I guess—”

Beau shrieked so high pitched you’re sure earthquake detectors could’ve picked up her frequency. “YES! OH MY GOD!” She gave a few jumps before tackling you into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You gasped for air when she let go, her grip cutting off your oxygen. “You owe me that damn pretzel,” you coughed lightly.

“I’ll buy you all the fucking pretzels you want!” Beau laughed, pushing you playfully with her hip. “Oh my god, I’m so stoked!” She pointed her two index fingers at you, eyes big. “I’m picking you up, no discussion on the issue. Ivy will meet us over there.”

“Why can’t I meet you over there, too?” You asked, lips pouting vaguely.

“Because I know you. You’ll get there and then leave even before we get through the security check,” she scoffed, looking at her nails for a moment. “So, I’ll be here thirty minutes before eleven. I want to be there right when Horror Fest opens.” You watched Beau saunter off towards your door. “So be ready! Make sure you look hot!” She gave you one last grin before leaving your apartment.

You raked your fingers through your knotted hair, feeling the regret of agreeing to go. You just wanted to make Beau happy and a small thought in your head made you think it would be a good idea to be distracted for a little while. She always got you to say yes when it came to outings. You needed to learn how to say no to her. With a quick glance around your kitchen, you headed to your bedroom. Another few hours of sleep before getting ready wouldn’t hurt.

————————

You shielded yourself from the cold inside Beau’s car while she battled to find a parking spot in the lot. She uttered curse words cruising up and down the rows before she sped up to snag a tiny space a Prius was about to slide into. It beeped at her just as it kept going, searching again. Beau glanced over at you, lip gloss in hand. Trying to avoid her gaze, you pulled down the visor to use the small mirror, checking absolutely nothing since you kept your makeup pretty natural.

“I told you to dress hot,” Beau sighed, lips pouted as she coated them in a soft coral color.

You looked down at your outfit; black jeans, burgundy velvet cropped cami with a black bomber jacket that would definitely not keep you warm during the entire night. “What’s wrong with how I look?” You frowned, your hands smoothed the sides of your jacket. “I am fucking layered in the thinnest clothing to try and look hot. Did you want me to come in just leggings and a sports bra?”

Beau threw her head back, hitting the headrest, cackling at your comment. Her eyes crinkled as she gave you the biggest grin. “Oh my god, you won’t believe how many girls will go to that extent to pick up some guy at a place like this.” She rested her hands over her bare stomach, her crop top had hiked up a little on the ride here. “Thanks for the good laugh. I needed that after realizing I’ll be screaming my head off within a few minutes.”

You looked out the window, crowds of people huddled near the entrance to Horror Fest, waiting for the doors to open. “Can’t believe all these people want to live the dream of being chased by psycho killers.” A worker wearing the neon orange vest switched on the lights near the entrance as other orange vests appeared in the ticket booths. The waiting crowd hollered and cheered, trying their best to fit in a line. You pursed your lips, watching the orange vests maneuver around trying to keep everyone in order. Damn that Min Yoongi guy. Just seeing those damn blinding vests made you want to find that bastard and slap that irritating face of his.

“Y/N, hello!” You jerked your head to the left, Beau observed you weirdly. “Are you not listening? Ivy is here. She said she’d meet us in the front, come on.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, undoing your seatbelt and opening the door slowly to insure the vehicle beside it wouldn’t get hit from how compact the parking spaces were. “I just got distracted.”

“No shit.” Beau smiled, shaking her head as she slipped on a jean jacket. “It’s freezing, oh my god!”

You hugged your torso, shivers ran down your spine as the coldness settled. “I knew I should’ve brought my coat.”

“Don’t zip up that jacket,” Beau told you. “That top is too cute to be covered.”

You rolled your eyes, following close behind her. “So you want me to get hypothermia?”

Beau shrugged, looping her arm around yours. “If it means you get a hot date, why not?”

“Guys! Hey!” A small girl stood near a Grim Reaper prop holding the ‘NO INNOCENCE ALLOWED’ sign. She gave a few waves while Beau jogged over to her, tackling her in a tight hug.

“IVY OHMYGOD!” Beau shouted, backing away to look your friend up and down. “You look freaking smokin’!”

Ivy posed, hand on her hip, flicking her hair over her shoulder to show her low cut top. She busted out in giggles, slapping Beau playfully on the arm. “Me? Look at you!” Her eyes widened when she saw you, a high pitched squeal startled you while she wrapped her arms around your neck. “Y/N! YOU CAME!”

You nodded, watching Ivy back away, clasping her hands together. “Beau tricked me with buying me pretzels.”

“She was going to come either way.” Beau waved you off, feeling proud she got you to come.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad. It’s been too long since we’ve hung out together.” Ivy looked over her shoulder. “The lines are moving fast. Let’s get tonight started!”

Beau gave a playful howl as she high-fived Ivy while both took one of your arms and pulled you along towards the shortest line.

Upon entering, the girl that had scanned your ticket placed a black wristband with neon red smudges— blood smudges— to signify that you were VIP. The security guard checked you with a metal detector and allowed you to go through the metal gates. Beau and Ivy were already waiting for you, amazed by how everything was set up and decorated. The whole area was well lit with stadium lights and even some lanterns that hung around certain corners of Horror Fest. There were props placed around, some more disturbing than others, to show the spirit of Halloween. People roamed around, laughing and screaming in excitement, as they made their way to different attractions. The first three mazes were inside wooden houses that had been built since Horror Fest was invented. They were creaky, old, rundown and gave the whole haunted vibe at first glance. This year they were covered in spiderwebs and two staff members dressed in black robes stood at the entrances of all three houses. The rest of the seven mazes were made in the crop fields while others were built and structured out of tall walls of haystacks. All the mazes were spread out throughout the enormous space that is Horror Fest, making the night of fright last longer and spread anxiety to its participants.

You watched as staff members still placed pumpkins in every and any corner, making sure it looked festive and yet, spooky. Some were even dressed up wandering around scaring people that walked around going from maze to maze.

“Okay.” Beau clapped, gaining your attention. “I say we start from the houses since technically those are the first three in line. Then we can just go from there.”

Ivy gave a nod. “I heard that when you get to the fifth maze, they’re allowed to touch you.”

Your eyes grew big. “Touch?” Beau and Ivy turned to look at you. “No one said anything about touching.” You crossed your arms over your chest, glowering at Beau.

“I did say the intensity level was up a notch.” She shrugged, avoiding your glare.

“Yeah!” Ivy chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. “Apparently today is the only day it’s allowed. Plus, since Beau got VIP, they’ll be trying to get us—” she motioned her finger around the circle the three of you had formed— “to shit our pants with fear.”

“Wow, so we’re definite targets,” you commented bitterly, feeling the frown overtake your features.

Beau groaned, rolling her eyes and throwing her head back, annoyed. “So what? It’s not like you’ll even be scared!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want creepy ass monsters to tackle me to the freaking ground!”

“Relax.” Ivy stepped in-between the two of you, trying to prevent punches that would never even happen. “Let’s just do the first four and solve the rest after, okay? We’re here to have fun, remember?”

You watched Beau sulk, her arms on her hips and head low watching her foot draw circles on the floor. You exhaled loudly, pressing your lips together. “Fine. I’ll just run really fast so they won’t touch me.” Beau glanced up, fighting back a smile and Ivy put an arm around both of you. “Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

The three of you headed to the first house that was far off to the right of where the entrance was. There was a small line to enter, so you all waited patiently while Ivy snapped a few pictures of you and Beau. She giggled when Beau took her phone and captured all three of you in a picture. The line moved a little before four people in front of you were stopped by the cloaked guardians of the house.

“I’m so excited!” Ivy squealed lowly, giving a little hop. “Last year probably won’t compare to this year.”

“I hope it’s better. Last year wasn’t scary,” Beau yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I need to be scared good so I won’t feel tired.” She smiled.

“Next group,” one of the two cloaked strangers spoke.

Beau turned to look at you and Ivy, teeth bared in excitement. “We’re next,” she whispered.

You pressed your lips tightly together as the line moved. You trailed behind Beau, showing your wristband as you entered the maze.

The eerie music resonated throughout the whole room making it impossible to hear anything but the sound effects of screams and heavy panting as you walked through the door, down a narrow hallway. The strobe lights went off as you entered a room that displayed two electric chairs with people sitting in them, completely motionless. They were each placed near a doorway that would lead you to different areas of the inside maze. The small group you and your friends were with all gathered in the center, not knowing where to go. You could feel the panic set, it was as if all of the fear surrounded you, letting the people in charge of scaring know they had gotten you right where they wanted. You tugged on Beau’s jacket, but she made no movement as she clung to Ivy’s arm.

“Let’s stick together,” you said to Beau and Ivy, who were too distracted by the atmosphere to hear you.

Just when two guys from the group were about to head to the left doorway, zapping sounds echoed in the room, blood curdling screams of the people trembling in the electric chairs filled the space. The crackling of the electricity and the violent movements of the chair legs scratching the wooden floors horrified the entire group, having them run like a herd of cattle towards the doorways. The lights flickered as the electricity and the screams continued, causing the group to push to get away from there. You grabbed onto Beau’s arm, lights getting dimmer around you. You felt her arm slip through your grasp as someone bumped into you while trying to get away from the beings in the electrical chairs. You squinted, the darkness setting and only screaming shadows ran around through the doorways. Cursing under your breath, you jogged towards the left doorway which was closest to you. You quickly made your way through the dark hallway, the sounds of heavy breathing coming from the walls. There was a dim white light at the end of the hall and you hurried, hands glided against the walls to secure your step. You crouched low, coming to a stop once entering the room.

You scanned around, realizing where you were—a morgue. The walls a nasty white color, scarlet stains splattered across them like if a child had finger painted. There were feet sticking out of the wall where the dead bodies were shoved into, draped with a dirt stained cloth, a tag on the left toe of each body displayed. The light panel overhead hung lopsided as if it had been pulled to tear it out of the ceiling. Along the far wall was a long black rectangular window, claw marks at the sides of the windowpanes.

You scrunched up your nose as you tried to catch your breath. The idea of the dead bodies climbing out of the wall came to mind, making your skin crawl. You spun around, examining the room, searching for an exit. The room was a dead end, but there had to be a hidden door somewhere. You crouched, looking towards the floor for a vent but there were none.

“C’mon,” you muttered to yourself. You froze when you heard several screams through the walls from another part of the house. “Shit.” You stood back up, eyeing a drape in a far corner you hadn’t noticed upon entering the room. “Bingo,” you breathed, striding over to it. As you pulled the drape aside, you found a small narrow door with a splattered ‘X’ in the middle of it. At that moment, the haunting music echoed throughout the room; the light flickered. You turned the knob on the door but it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck.” The deep bass made your chest thump with anxiety as the music got louder, ringing in your ears. Recorded screams and moans came from the rectangular window, causing you to still.

BANGBANGBANG!

Hands became visible on the other side of the black window as the light in the room had begun to turn on and off for periods of time. You jumped back at the noise of the window rattling as the bodies behind it slammed their palms onto the glass, shrieking for help.

“Come on!” You tugged at the knob until the door ‘plop’-ed open. Quickly, you lowered your head and entered another narrow hall, closing the door behind you. With your back pressed against the wall, you slowly walked through the tiny space.

The music behind you had died down, leaving your soft pants to be the only thing heard. Up ahead, you saw streams of light—an exit. Scurrying, you pushed yourself forwards with your hands on the wall until you reached another door. You peeked through the thin slits before you put all your weight against it to push it open. With a soft grunt, you backed yourself out the confined space, bumping into something as you stumbled backwards. You jumped away at the contact and made a 360 turn, only to see a familiar face.

“Jesus— You?!” You gaped at him, completely dumbfounded by the situation. There, standing before you was the damned guy himself, Min Yoongi. The faint lightening painted over his face, showcasing his parted lips and widened eyes.

He stared at you, shock apparent on his features as he stood a few inches away. “Holy shit,” he whispered. You blinked a few times, not believing your luck. “Where the hell did you come from?” He looked over your shoulder to see the open door. “How the hell—”

“What’re you doing here?!” You hissed, pointing at him accusingly.

Yoongi ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back before it fell back into place. “Well, I’m trying to find my way out like everyone else.” He glanced behind him, then focused back on you, brows knitted in the center. “Why are you here?”

The music found your ears, anxiety caused you to look up and down the hall. An exasperated sigh slipped through your lips, hands combing through your hair. Whenever music began, it never was good news.

“We need to leave— I need to leave.” You shook your head, walking forward.

“Hold on.” Yoongi followed closely behind you. “Too scared to stay in one place?”

You glared over your shoulder. “The music was getting louder.”

“So?”

“Loud music means things pop out. I don’t need to be in here any longer than I should.”

Turning a left corner, Yoongi still trailed behind you. A few shrieks echoed and you stop, trying to figure out how close that had sounded. Taking a few more steps, the noise of a fog machine startled you back into Yoongi’s chest. His hand automatically held onto your waist—hiking your jacket up— to keep himself from stumbling back.

“You okay?” He murmured into the back of your head, the fog dispersing throughout the hall. His breath sent chills through your body as you gave a nod, hand pushing strands of your hair behind your ear.

Moving along, you tried to focus through the thick smoke, strobe lights activating as both take another turn. You felt Yoongi’s fingers on your bare skin, slightly pressed into your side as the two of you kept going forward. The simple touch immersed so much heat that spread throughout your body, making you flustered in thinking of his hand being somewhat under your cami.

“There, right over there.” Yoongi pointed ahead with his free hand. You squinted through the flashing lights to see what he was talking about. Down the hall was the exit, it had to be.

With quick steps, the two of you zoomed down the hall, sighing in relief at the sight of the double doors. You and Yoongi pushed them open, the night breeze hitting your warm faces as you stepped outside. Inhaling the cool air, you rubbed your face with your hands, feeling Yoongi’s chest against your back. You stilled for a moment, eyes looking left and right to make sure your friends weren’t around to see. Pushing his hand away, you whirled around to face him, taking two steps away. The heat still lingeried where his hand had stayed. He watched you, brows up as if saying, ‘yeah, it’s me.’ His cheeks were slightly pink, perspiration twinkled at the sides of his face from the stuffiness inside the maze.

You scrunched up your face, crossing your arms over your chest. “Cheater.”

“Cheater?” Yoongi arched a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“You obviously used me to find a way out.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, brows shot up at your snooty comment. “What’re you even saying? I, as in me—” he pointed at his chest— “found the exit.”

You rolled your eyes, lips pursed in annoyance. “Aren’t you supposed to be working? I’m sure your boss isn’t going to be too surprised you’re slacking.” You watched him yawn, his eyes wandered before he noticed you giving him a distasteful look.

“Please, keep talking. I only yawn when I’m super fascinated,” Yoongi retorted, lips forming the smallest hint of a smirk.

Your lips pulled back in a snarl. Ready to throw another lowball comeback, you hear whistling. You and Yoongi turned toward the same direction, only to see Beau and Ivy walking over. They panted lightly, hair wild as they grinned at you, excitement plastered on their faces.

“Oh my god!” Beau yelled, hands rested on your shoulders. “That was fucking awesome! Let’s hurry and go to the next because I—” she noticed Yoongi standing there, “—woah, sorry. Are we interrupting something?” She motioned to you and Yoongi with both of her index fingers. She turned to you and mouthed, “WOW,” a smug grin on her lips.

You scoffed. “Definitely not.”

Ivy observed Yoongi. Eyes trailed him up and down, her bottom lip pulled in-between her teeth as she elbowed you. “Who’s your friend?”

“He is not my friend,” you hissed at her. Peering over at Yoongi, you shifted your weight onto your left leg. “He was just leaving.”

“He was?” Beau and Ivy joined in together.

“I was?” Yoongi asked, mocking shock just to irk you more than you already were.

The double doors flung open, two guys ran out, heaving as they looked around with enormous eyes. The four of you stared while they approached Yoongi, who just smiled at them.

“How could you leave us behind?!” One of them shouted, hand pushing his brunet locks back. “I almost died in there, Yoongi!”

The other chuckled in between pants, signaling to his friend with his thumb. “It was funny.” His chestnut hair stuck to the sides of his face due to the sweat from all the running he had done in the maze.

“Shut up, Tae.”

Yoongi shook his head, hands shoved into his coat pockets. “I told you both to follow, but Hoseok screamed so loud you probably didn’t hear me.” He grinned as he watched Hoseok throw his head back, groaning loudly from his experience in the house.

Taehyung saw the three of you, smiled, before he did a double take. His light colored hair swishing with the harsh movement. “Uhhh…” his eyes, round in surprise, glanced over at Yoongi. “Who’re your —” he waved his hands toward the three of you— “your um…”

Beau gawked before approaching Taehyung, hand outstretched as she stood a foot away from him. “Hi, I’m Beau.” Her voice sounded sweet, causing him to shyly shake her hand, smiling at the ground before looking at her.

“I-I’m Taehyung,” he choked out, feeling embarrassed. “But, um, you can call me Tae.”

You caught Ivy and the other guy, Hoseok, had, too, introduced themselves also, bright smiles on their faces as their hands lingered during their handshake. All four of them were so engrossed towards one another, you were left out…with Yoongi. “Okay,” you coughed. “Well, we gotta go.”

“Can you guys excuse us for a moment?” Beau quickly added, grabbing your elbow as she pulled you aside. She faced you, eyes big. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to get us to the next attraction.” You looked behind her, eyes narrowed as you watched Yoongi talk to Ivy and his friends.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “those three guys are smokin’ hot. Why would you even think about ruining the chances here. I mean, there’s one for each of us, and by the looks of it, you and that guy Yoongi are—”

“We are nothing,” you cut her off, voice low.

Beau gave you a look of disbelief. “Really?” She cocked up a brow. “Because it looks like you guys are something.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake— I met him the day I picked up Clair, okay?” You groaned with frustration. “He started talking to me, pissed me off, and I left. That was it. I bumped into him in the maze by coincidence.” You rubbed your temples, a habit you’ve picked up whenever you felt bothered by something. In this case, someone.

Beau shrugged, shoulders hunched up to her ears. “So? First meetings never work out. This is your chance to start over.” Her smile reappeared, mischievous as she stood beside you, an arm around your shoulder. “Look at him. He’s fine,” she emphasized.

Tempted by the way Beau spoke, you looked. Yoongi stood next to Hoseok, who was similar in height with him. His raven colored hair fell delicately over his forehead while his eyes crinkled whenever he smiled. He wore black jeans and a white hoodie with a long black coat over it that reached his thighs. The whole ensemble made him look warm, inviting—unlike his personality.

“Let’s group up with them.” Beau interrupted your thoughts.

You stared at her in horror. “Hell no.”

“Y/N, c’mon. Don’t screw up my chances!” She gave you a playful punch on the arm. “If I play my cards right, I may be going home with Tae tonight,” she squealed, her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.

You palmed your forehead, feeling absolutely discontent. It took you a moment to look at Beau. “Fine,” you muttered through clenched teeth.

“Fuck yes!” Beau whispered victoriously as she pulled you by your wrist to join the rest once again. Clearing her throat, all eyes settled upon you two. “So, we were talking, and it would be a great idea if we just made a big group.” She interlocked her fingers together as she talked. “That way we can enjoy the spooky stuff together.” You watched as she sent a wink to Taehyung.

“That would be awesome,” Ivy sighed, batting her eyes at Hoseok as he chuckled, looking down at his feet.

“Sounds like a plan,” Taehyung agreed, watching Beau take a step closer in his direction.

Yoongi’s eyes gazed over at you, the corner of his lips twitching upwards as he witnessed the annoyed scowl from the first night he met you reappear on your features. “You okay with that, Y/N?”

You avoided looking at him, turning your head while your hands rested on your hips, causing nothing but a faint smile on Yoongi’s lips.

“Of course she is,” Beau answered for you. “Now let’s get going guys.” She wrapped her arm around Taehyung’s, his eyes shocked by how straightforward she was with her actions.

“I swear on my dog’s lucky bone, if you guys leave me again—” Hoseok started, but halts his words when he feels Ivy’s fingertips vaguely brushed against his arm. His eyes followed her as she sauntered behind Taehyung and Beau. He pointed at Yoongi without even looking at him. “I’ll be good.”

You watched Hoseok jog up to Ivy, who greeted him with one of her biggest grins. “Wow,” you huffed.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Yoongi boasted, shoulders shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You shot him a menacing stare before you marched off after your friends, giving Yoongi no time to say anything else.

...............

Hoseok shrieked loudly as he ran out the fourth maze, Tae and Beau followed closely behind, laughing as much as their heaving lungs would let them. Ivy dashed out the crop maze, arms bent at the elbow as they moved side to side to quicken her pace—surpassing the three that stopped to try and catch their breath. Beau called after her, telling her she had gone too far. Yoongi was the next to jog out the crops, panting as he skidded to a stop near Hoseok, bending his torso forward to rest his hands on his knees. You rustled the crops as you casually walked out, dusting off your jacket, breathing absolutely normal. All four watched you, astounded by your impeccable composure.

“What the actual hell?” Hoseok gasped, voice hoarse from the constant strain of his vocal chords. “Are you a demon or something?”

You gazed over at him, satisfied smile on your lips. “I manifest only to scare the living.”

“I haven’t even heard you scream once,” Taehyung exhaled, regaining a steady breathing pattern. “But then again, all I hear is Hoseok.”

“That damn scientist was chasing me with a real fucking chainsaw! What did you expect me to do?! You now I can’t handle fear well.” Hoseok wiped the light sweat from his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to his damp skin.

“Don’t be surprised,” Beau puffed air through her lips. “Y/N is a tough one to crack. It’ll take a lot more than a rabid hospital patient with pointy teeth to scare her.”

Ivy paced near Hoseok, hands anxiously smoothed out her hair. He wrapped a hand around her wrist, calming her instantly as she froze in place. “I don’t know if I can go into the next maze,” she pouted. “They’ll be able to touch us.”

“We’ll be fine,” you yawned softly, stretching out your arms while you gave Yoongi a finger flick to the back of his head. He rewarded you with a lazy look, not caring that you barely even grazed him with your childish act. “I just wish I could’ve worn adequate shoes. My feet are starting to ache.”

Yoongi took a peek at your black ankle boots with a chunky heel before he met your eyes. “They look good on you, though,” he commented, loud enough for only you to hear.

You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the nth time that night. “Please hold off on your flattery. It’s not working.”

He took a step closer to you. “I’m just saying.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say anything then. You’ll look better if you keep your mouth shut,” you sneered, eyes narrowed.

Yoongi scoffed a few chuckles, moving closer until he was right in front of you. His eyes scanned your face for a moment. “You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew the great things this mouth can do,” he whispered lowly, sensual even. He leaned in closer, noses almost touching. “But I will say, I’d like to see that mouth of yours do more than just sass me.” His eyes gazed at your lips for a millisecond before meeting your stare.

Your eyes rounded as far as they could go, lips parted in shock at what Yoongi had just insinuated. He had rendered you speechless, unable to wipe that smug smile that had appeared on his lips. A cruel laugh resonated through his chest, gummy grin on display as he pointed at your expression. You felt your face heat up, anger surging through your veins.

“Ugh—You jerk,” you hissed, shoving at his chest.

Yoongi stumbled back, wiping his fake tears as he let out the last of his amused giggles. “That was good,” he sighed, content with himself. “You should’ve seen how red you got,” he mumbled, the smirk still visible on his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, your eyes noting how nice his hand looked; fingers long and thin. “Got you good.”

You flipped him off as his voice brought you back to reality, storming off towards the fifth maze, where the rest of the group had already started making their way to. You couldn’t believe his audacity. The nerve of that damned guy—unbearable! He was just making fun of you, taking you as a fool that would fall for his stupid antics.

Beau waved you over, her smile faltered as she noticed the aggravated manner in the way you stomped your way over to them. “You okay? You look beyond pissed.”

“I want to leave,” you declared, voice shaky with irritation.

“What? Why?” She asked, stepping aside with you. “Did you and Yoongi—”

“Don’t even mention him to me.” You pointed at her, the irritation evident in your tone.

Beau rose her hands up in surrender. “Y/N,” she sighed. “Just one more maze, okay? If you still want to leave, I’ll give you my car keys.” She smiled triumphantly, checking her immaculate nails. “Guess who’s going to Tae’s place after this?”

You shook your head. “Wow, Beau. You work fast.”

She smacked your arm. “Leave me be. He’s a great guy, and I don’t know. He might be more than a one nighter, y’know?” You watched her stare at Taehyung as he laughed with Hoseok and Yoongi, who joined them without you noticing. “Do we have a deal? One more maze.” She held up one finger, her smile sweet and pleading. “I don’t want you to miss out the fun.”

You smoothed your hand over your forehead. “Fine, okay.”

“You’re the best. I owe you,” Beau giggled, hugging the life out of you. “Come on.”

The two of you gathered with the rest. You stood as far away from Yoongi as possible, and he didn’t fail to notice.

“Okay, so what about this maze? What monsters lurk inside?” Ivy asked, huffing nervously.

Taehyung coughed, shrinking into his jacket to block out the cold. “There’s like killer clowns in this one or something like that.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, eyes widened with alarm. “Clowns?” Fuck.

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah. Yoongi told us.” You met Yoongi’s eyes, and all he did was observe you curiously while you hugged your torso.

“What? You scared?” Hoseok chuckled, taking it all as a joke.

You forced a smile. “As if.”

“Then, let’s get going!” Beau beamed, pulling you towards the maze.

You stop a few feet from the entrance— slipping through Beau’s hold— admiring the way the haystacks arch to make a huge opening to the maze. There’s a torch on each side of the archway, the fire emitting the smoke into the night air around it. The shrieks coming from inside the maze are no joke— girls are hollering ‘get away’ or ‘where the fuck do I go’ and it’s making the panic bubble in the pit of your stomach. You dry swallow, ears thudding with the action, making you realize that the fear is real— it got you and you haven’t even started the actual maze yet.

Beau, Ivy, Taehyung, and Hoseok showed their bracelets at the entrance, leaving you behind. Beau waved at you to hurry as they entered, her arm clutching onto Taehyung’s. You gave a nod as she disappeared from sight.

“You okay?” You jumped slightly, turning to see Yoongi beside you. “You’re not scared are you?” He egged on.

“Please,” you muttered, striding off towards the maze, showing the bracelet as you rushed inside.

The entire maze is constructed of haystacks. They’re neatly towered— double walls standing up to at least ten feet high— and well conducted in every turn and curve, not one out of place. You turned to the left, amazed at how well constructed it was. Your teeth chattered, the cold sending constant shivers through your body, even though you assumed a few were from the paranoia that had crept up at the mention of clowns. You’re thankful that since the maze is outside, the lights illuminate well enough to make it through. But then it dawns on you, you’ll see the clowns detail for detail, and the thought makes you feel sick.

Taking another left, you inhaled through your nostrils, bracing yourself for anything. Exhaling shakily, you thought of a clown waiting a fews steps away, hiding in a corner as it readied itself to grab hold of you. Your insides churned, feeling the need to gag at how much the fear had consumed you.

“Relax,” you told yourself while taking a right turn. “They’re people in costumes.”

The sound of an metal item hitting the floor startled you enough to gasp loudly. You cover your mouth, body still, hoping whatever was around didn’t hear you. The screams of Beau and Hoseok fill the air, their yelling not so far from where you were. You do a complete turn before hustling down the path and taking a left. A panicked, ‘fuck,’ slips through your lips as you hit a dead end. You backtrack, spinning to go in the direction you had come from and opt for the right turn, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding. But just as you hear Taehyung yell out a curse from somewhere in the maze, two haystacks tumble over in front of you. A noise escapes your lips as a clown walks out from behind them— head tilted and eyes set on you. The smeared makeup on his face enhances the realistic wound; stitches connecting his cheek to his nose, flesh so raw and fresh that it makes your stomach churn. X’s are drawn over his eyes in black smudgy paint, highlighting the white glossed contacts he’s wearing. He holds up an axe in mid-air, dripping red onto the hay covered ground as he stood with his toes pointed inwards. His grin sends a chill down your spine; teeth rotten and black, tongue licking over them as distorted chuckles gurgle in his throat.

That’s what does it.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you yell—loud enough for the whole maze to hear you. Loud enough that your whole body shakes from fright. The clown takes a step forward, waving the rusty axe, telling you to go toward him. Without thinking, you do. You dash past him, feeling the air be cut near you as he swung the axe behind you as you ran at full speed down the path, taking a sharp turn at a left corner. Your feet kept going, running quick, lungs sucking in as much air while it pierced your insides like cold shards of ice. You skidded to a stop to turn right before stumbling and falling forward. Stretching out your arms, your palms crashed onto the hay covered ground, stopping you from diving in face first. You grunt hissing in pain, palms throbbing while you dropped to your knees.

The sound of deep cackling fills the air. Your eyes widened as two more haystacks tumbled forward just a few feet away, blocking your way. Out, from in-between the double hay walls, steps the most grotesque clown in that maze yet. He gave you a wicked smile, teeth brown and spotted with tiny red splotches—blood. His chest parted open—bones on display, decaying flesh and intestines dangling on the edges of the ribcage. Skin dangled from it’s right shin, showcasing flesh and bone that was somewhat shattered from whatever it had been hit with. One of his eyes focused on you two while the other was nonexistent. Instead the space was black, vacant as it dripped black liquid that looked like car oil. His face was falling off in chunks, hitting the ground in clumps of black decay. He held up a machete—blade rusty and faded red— pointing it directly at you.

“Stay away,” you croaked, barely audible while you pushed yourself back into the hay wall. The thought of standing and running away was long gone as you sat on the floor, trapped, while the clown slowly took a step toward you. He laughed, a distorted growling sound filling your ears, as he heard the terror in your voice.

The clown stood in front of you, bloody toes peeking out from the open shoes he wore. It laughed, causing your blood to run cold as he reached for your wrist. You gasped, squealing in panic as he pulled you up, your knees wobbling. Tears welled up in your eyes while you stood there in his grasp.

“Purrrty,” he voiced slowly.

You blinked the tears back, not willing to cry in front of this person dressed like a nightmare you’ve had when you were a kid. “Please,” you gasped.

“BUTTERSCOTCH!”

The clown frowned, turning to look over his shoulder. You took a glance, a whimper of relief leaving your quivering lips. There, standing by the fallen hay, was Yoongi. He panted, jogging over when the clown let go of your wrist. With numb-like legs, you stumbled into his side, his arm holding you up before fast walking with you the way he had come.

“Better luck with the next one!” Yoongi told the clown, as he went back into his hiding spot.

You held onto Yoongi’s coat as he swiveled through the paths, picking up the pace. The cold autumn air numbed your face as you ran, eyes scanning every corner you passed. Taking one more turn, you gasp softly. Just up ahead was the exit. You could see the people running around the park, the voices faint but not too far away.

You panted as you stepped out of the torturous maze. Stopping a good distance away, you bend down, hands on your knees as you heaved for breath. Your hands trembled against your thighs, the rush of adrenaline making your body unresponsive to regaining composure. Yoongi’s hand smoothed your back, his breathing still heavy.

“It’s done, we’re out,” he states, exhaling loudly. “You okay? You looked like you were going to pass out.” You sluggishly stood up straight, watery eyes staring into Yoongi’s. His expression softened, hands automatically rubbing up and down your arms in comfort. “Woah, hey, it’s okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay, Y/N.” Yoongi felt your body quiver under his touch. Instinctively, he took off his coat, hanging it over your shoulders. “Want to talk about it?” He murmured, eyes focusing on you.

“H-how—” Your voice broke off.

“It’s the safe word,” he answered. “All staff must know the safe word and it’s on the pamphlets at the entrance, but looks like you didn’t bother to snatch one.” Yoongi noticed your hair, a quirky smile on his lips. “You have, um, you have hay in your hair.” You touched your head as he inched closer. “Here, let me.”

You viewed him through half-lidded eyes. The way his pouty lips slowly parted, tongue poking out slightly onto his bottom lip as his fingers laced through your hair to remove the strands of hay. The tip of his nose was a pale red color due to the cold and it made him look innocent, until he licked his lips. You observed as his tongue swiped across his lips, causing you to do the same to your own. That’s when you imagined it, his tongue gliding down your neck as his plush lips kissed down your collarbone to your breast. Your hands tangled in his hair as he kissed down your stomach and disappeared in-between your thighs— You snapped out of it when you felt his thumb rub your left temple, brow furrowed in concentration.

“You had some dirt,” he told you, arms falling to his sides.

You let out an unsteady breath. “You knew,” you claim, and he gave a nod.

“When Taehyung mentioned clowns, your face just drained of color.” Yoongi pressed his lips together before continuing. “That’s how I knew you were definitely scared of something.”

“Ah.” That’s all you were able to say, feeling embarrassed that he found out your only fear.

“Good thing too. If you had ended up not screaming once in a maze, you would’ve been way too tough for me.”

You let an airy giggle slip, making Yoongi smile. “Right.”

“Hurry! FUCKING RUN!”

You and Yoongi recognized the voice of Beau as both of you glanced to see her dragging Taehyung out the maze while Ivy and Hoseok ran past them, hand in hand. They coughed, wheezing as they tried to steady their breathing. Hoseok was the first to notice the two of you.

“How —the hell—” he began, in-between pants.

Yoongi shook his head, expression feigning annoyance. “I told you which way to go, Hobi.”

“He fucking forgot and I almost got caught by a damn nurse clown with a terrible face lift!” Beau accused, her chest heaving.

“That shit was intense,” Ivy whined, rubbing her arms to send some warmth through her system.

“The sixth maze is going to be worse than this,” Taehyung adds in, twisting his torso so his back could crack, readying himself for the next run-through.

You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Actually, I’m done for the night.”

Everyone settled their attention on you, causing you to rock back on your heels.

“What? Why?” Ivy leaned against Hoseok, his arm automatically draping around her shoulders.

“It’s getting late and I have work in a few hours.” You showed them the time on your phone: 1:45AM.

Beau frowned for a moment before a smile replaced it. “Here,” she sighed, pouting. “I’ll give you my keys. We’re still going to stick around.”

“I can take you home if you want,” Yoongi clears his throat. You turned to look at him so fast your neck almost cracked. “I have work in a few hours too. Might as well get going also.” He looked at his friends. “You guys cool with that?”

“Yeah, no sweat! We’ll get rides for these lovely ladies.” Taehyung smirks, his hand on Beau’s shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N, another scream-less maze run, huh?” Hoseok asked, amazed by your ability of not being afraid.

“Oh, um—”

“Yep, she’s made of steel,” Yoongi interjects as you fight back a smile. “Okay, well,” he turned to face you, “ready?”

With no hesitance, you nodded, waving bye to your friends while you followed Yoongi through the groups of people. There was silence between the two of you, the occasional staff member saying hi to Yoongi as they strolled around making sure everything was in order. The security guards bid the two of you a good night while you walked out the metal gates to the parking lot.

“This way,” he calls.

You hold on to his coat, wrapping it tighter around you, as you stuck to his side like glue. The scent of his cologne meeting your nostrils, the gentle aroma easing you into comfort. Yoongi unlocked a black jeep with the car remote and signaled for you to get on as he made his way to the driver’s seat. You let out a soft breath as you relaxed into the seat. It felt nice to finally be sitting after a few hours of running and nonstop strolling. Yoongi closed his door once inside, stretching before buckling up and turning on the engine.

“Feel better?” He asked, backing out the parking and driving out onto the dirt road. The ‘Horror Fest’ sign getting smaller in the rearview mirror as he drove away.

“A little, yeah.” You rub your palms against your thighs, the sting still present from when you fell. “Why did you lie to Hoseok about me not being scared?”

Yoongi hummed, his lips parting slightly. “Well, not everyone has to know your fear.”

You smile, eyes focused on him and the way the light from the night illuminated his features. “Thanks.”

He chuckled, his hand quickly rubbing his chin before setting it back on the steering wheel. “Listen, I’m sorry for being an ass…and for making you flustered earlier, too.” A smirk replaced his natural pout. “It was cute and entertaining as hell, but I’m sorry.”

“I should be sorry for being so condescending,” you began but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, entertaining as hell.” You giggled, Yoongi took a peek to see you actually smile, feeling satisfied with himself.

The rest of the ride went smoothly. You and Yoongi talked comfortably, laughing every now and then whilst sharing a funny comment to one’s stories. The faint background music eased the tension as you neared the city.

“How did you meet Hoseok and Taehyung?” You asked him after he finished a story about his older brother almost getting banned from Horror Fest a few years back.

“Oh, I’ve known them since forever,” he responded easily. “Since freshman year in high school. We all went to the same university too. I was Hoseok’s roommate until graduation. I left his apartment and got one of my own.” He stops the car at a red light, face turning to look at you. “My parents gifted me with an apartment of my own the day after graduation and I’ve lived by myself since then.” Yoongi’s eyes move down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He sees the light change and begins to drive again, focusing on the road.

You felt heat rush throughout your body from the simple glance he gave you. Your fingers fiddled on your lap, unable to look at him anymore, fearing the blush would be apparent on your face.

“Oh, um, do you think we can stop by my place real quick?”

“Your place?” You asked, looking at him.

“Yeah. I asked my brother for a favor and I just really want to check if he got it done,” he explained, pressing his lips together.

“Oh. Sure, okay.”

There’s silence for a while, your mind racing as you get close to his home. You drum your fingers on your thighs.

“My place is up ahead. We won’t be too long,” he told you as he made a left turn at a green light.

Yoongi drove down two more streets before he went into a private parking garage and stationed his car in an empty space. He turned off the car and you got out, shutting the door before you trailed behind him. Yoongi locked the car with the alarm control before he pressed the button for the elevator. It dinged, and he let you enter first. He pushes the ‘7’ button and quickly the doors closed as it ascended. There’s a gap between the two of you. There’s no touching, but you could feel his warmth gravitating towards you. You could see Yoongi’s wandering eyes settle on you every few seconds, his fingers twitching at his sides. The elevator stopped, doors sliding open. He rushed out, leaving you to catch up to him with quick strides down the hall.

Yoongi stopped in front of his door—unlocked—by the time you reached him. He let you in first and all you could do was smile absentmindedly. His home seemed to reflect him—simple, messy, and cozy. His shoes were all lined up on a rack by the door, coats that he’d been using hung on hooks beside it, while a high little table had a round marble bowl with spare change and now his keys that he dropped into it from behind you. Yoongi helped you out his coat as he hung it with the rest.

“Make yourself at home,” he told you, slipping his shoes off by the door along with his socks. You stare at him oddly, and he noticed. “What? I like being barefoot in my house.”

Your eyes followed him into the living area while you took off your boots—along with your socks—and set them next to his. You let out a loud sigh, feeling relieved to be barefoot after hours of torturous walking. As you strolled into the living area, you were surprised to see Yoongi smoothing the surface of a black polished piano that was stationed at the far side of the room.

“Is this the favor?” You asked, curious as you stepped closer.

“Yeah.” He smiled over at you. “I ordered this piano a few days ago since my old one got ruined by something Taehyung dropped on the keys. It didn’t clean well, so, I had to replace it.” His fingertips traced motions on it’s surface, the excitement seeping out of him as he chuckled to himself. “I’m just glad I’m no longer piano-less.”

You arched a brow, hip leaning against Yoongi’s new item. “You play? I thought it was just for decoration.”

“Pfft, please,” he scoffed, eyeing your stance. “I’m somewhat of a pro.” His shoulders barely lifted up in a shrug, expression smug as he declared himself a big shot.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, biting it back. He was sensible. Yoongi sensible… Were you even sure he was the the same guy that was annoying the hell out of you earlier?

“I’ll play for you sometime.” His low murmur brought you out of your thoughts. Yoongi was gazing at you, his eyes scanning your face.

Your lips twitched up in smile. “What makes you think you’ll see me again?”

He half shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “I assumed you weren’t so annoyed by me anymore since I made you laugh a few times.” Your eyes widened in amusement, smile evident now as you listened to him talk. “Thought you were starting to see me as a decent human being.”

A giggle escaped you before you pursed your lips to try and keep your composure. “Oh, really?”

Yoongi inched closer to you. “I mean, I’m not that bad.” He hide his hands behind his back as he stood centimeters from you, as if trying to hold himself back. “I’m tolerable,” he whispered as he leaned his face closer to yours.

You felt your stomach somersault at how his voice had lowered down to the same tone from when he talked about his mouth doing wonders— sensual.

“I doubt that,” you murmured, your stare looking at his lips before up at his eyes.

“Just answer me this.” His nose brushed against yours, his breath fanning against your mouth. Your eyelids drooped as you gazed at him licking his lips. “You still think I’m an annoying asshole?”

The proximity was causing you to feel dizzy. His scent, his warmth, it was suffocating you in the most enticing way possible. Why was he affecting you so much?

“No,” you breathed, voice hushed.

He nodded a few times. “Okay.”

That was all it took for Yoongi to cup your face and crash his lips to yours. You gave a subtle squeak from the sudden motion which made Yoongi smile, his tongue separating your lips to deepen the kiss. He moaned, sliding his tongue into your mouth to find yours. Your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, bringing him closer, pressing your lips harder against his.

“God—I’ve been—dying to kiss you since the night we met,” Yoongi mumbled in-between kisses. His lips moved to your jaw, down to your neck. “What are you doing to me, Y/N?” He groaned against your skin, the vibrations of his voice causing you to shiver.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you panted as you felt his hands glide down your back to settle on your ass while his teeth nibbled your earlobe.

This was all true. You didn’t know what Yoongi was doing to you. He was the irritating ass you met at two in the morning, but now, you were there in his arms as his hands roamed your body, tongue lapping the side of your neck where he had been placing red splotches.

You separated from him, pulling off your jacket and throwing it aside. Yoongi’s pupils dilated while he touched your skin, skimming under your velvet top, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your plain black bra.

“Fuck,” he uttered, pressing his lips to yours again. Yoongi began walking you backwards, guiding you away from the piano and toward the couch. “You know I stared at your ass every time you walked away from me,” he confessed after you broke the kiss to remove his white hoodie along with the plain t-shirt he wore under. You hands touched his bare chest as his fingers worked on your jeans. You grinned at him, peppering his jaw with kisses. “Best attraction the entire night,” he breathed against your neck.

You moaned as you felt his hands slide down the back of your jeans to cup your ass as he pushed them down your hips. Quickly, you shimmied out of them as Yoongi worked to get rid of his pants. You saw the tent in his boxers, your mouth salivating at the sight. He took your hand and pulled you against his chest, his mouth on yours again. His hardened cock pressed itself against your stomach, a shaky moan released into the kiss.

“Lie down,” he muttered against your cheek. He watched as you took your time undoing the clasp of your bra, discarding it over your shoulder, sending it flying across the room. Yoongi moaned as you laid on his couch, a black silk thong away from being completely naked for him. “Fuck,” he closed his eyes, hand rubbing his covered dick.

Yoongi bit his lip, eyes fluttering open slowly, taking in every inch of you. He crawled over, hovering enough that your chest touched his. His lips found yours, teeth clashing lightly as one of his hands massaged one of your breasts. You huffed a moan into his mouth at the sensation of his thumb flicking over your nipple. Your thighs rubbed against each other as you felt yourself getting even more excited.

Yoongi’s hand slipped away from your breast, down your stomach to the band of your thong. His finger traced over your center before pulling aside the soft fabric, sucking in a breath at the feel of your arousal pooling at your entrance. “Are you really this wet from just making out?” His voice hoarse. You nodded, hands on his biceps. “Shit,” he groans, sliding a finger inside you. You squirm, feeling your walls contract against his digit.

“Yoongi,” you whine as he introduced another finger, pulling them in and out, getting you ready for him.

“Shit,” he grunted, removing both his fingers from inside you. You pant, half-lidded eyes watched him as he sucked his fingers, humming in approval. You dry swallowed, your arousal glistening on his lips before his tongue licked them. “I really want to eat you out,” he spoke confident in his statement. “But I will probably burst before I even get the chance to fuck you.”

You groaned at his words, feeling anxious as you lowered your gaze to his cock, your fingers made their way to it, barely touching it when it twitched. Yoongi hissed, as if in pain, while you stroked him. He was right. He was so hard that every move of your hand had him trembling. You leaned up, lips brushing his. “Please.”

The sound of your sultry voice saying that one single word sent him over the edge, his mouth opening yours as his tongue darted through to feel yours. Your hands pushed through his hair as his fingers pulled your thong down your thighs. He separated from you, hot and bothered as he held up a finger, trotting off down the hall. You completely removed your panties when he jogged back towards you, condom in hand. You grinned, licking your lips at the sight of his bare cock as his boxers hit the floor. He placed the condom on before pulling you up as he sat down.

“Come here.” He lured you to him, placing a knee on each side of his thighs. His hands gripped your hips as you drifted over his dick. “Ready?” You bit your lip, lowering yourself down onto him as your answer. The two of you gasped at the pressure of Yoongi’s dick sliding in. He lifted you up, removing himself from you before pulling you back onto him as he rammed himself completely in, bottoming out.

“Yoongi—fuck,” you hissed, resting your forehead to his shoulder.

Yoongi cupped your ass, moving it along as he thrusted upwards. You bounced on his dick, balancing yourself as you held on to his shoulders. He planted his mouth over your nipple, tongue swirling around it, nibbling at your flesh. “Shit, Y/N, you feel so good,” he breathed against your chest. His head lolled back as you bounced faster, breasts jumping with every move. “Keep going, baby,” he grunted, his thrusts meeting yours with every bounce.

Yoongi closed his eyes, biting into his bottom lip as he met your movements. Your moan caused him to peek up at you through lidded eyes. The sight of you in pure bliss had him twitching inside you.

You squealed once Yoongi took hold of your waist, turning you so your back rested on the couch. He pulled out, repositioning himself before he plunged inside, a yelp escaping your lips as his cock buried itself inside.

“Ah,” you panted, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. His lips molded onto yours while his hips thrusted at a faster pace. You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, a guttural moan forming through his lips.

“I’m so fucking close,” he grumbled, his words too airy as he felt your walls tightening with every stroke.

“Come for me,” you huffed, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling a surge of ecstasy as Yoongi’s thumb pressed against your clit. He growled against your ear, your words arousing him more than he already was. You kissed his neck, nibbling at his skin, until you felt your toes curl. Another wave of pleasure rippling through your being as Yoongi lifted your hips to meet his. His thrusts were getting rougher, your body arching up to press against his. A whiny groan slips through your lips as you let go, feeling yourself release over his cock and Yoongi choked out a moan in feeling your release.

He thrusted through your orgasm, snapping his hips quicker, feeling himself at the brink until you felt his cock twitch again. “Fuck,” he grunted, spilling into the condom. He rode out his high, last few thrusts slow. Yoongi tumbled over you, the weight of his body squishing you for a moment until he lazily slipped his cock out of you. You sighed contently as his lips planted fleeting kisses down your jaw, neck, and the valley of your breasts. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, getting up off you.

You sat up, eyes fixed on him as he disappeared into the hall again. You wrapped your arms around your torso, suddenly feeling aware that you were nude in Yoongi’s apartment. This was something you weren’t expecting, and embarrassment quickly replaced the pleasure you were feeling moments ago. Your hand instantly reached down to the floor to grab your thong, slipping them on while your eyes roamed around the dim-lit apartment to locate the rest of your clothing. You raked your fingers through your knotted hair, trying to figure out how you’d sneak out without Yoongi noticing.

“Hey.” You froze at the sound of his voice. Cautiously, you turned, eyes big when you saw him still completely naked. “What’re you doing?” Yoongi eyed the way you used your arms as a shield, covering your breasts while fidgeting on your heels.

“Oh, um, I was just…” You trailed off the sentence you forming as you tried avoiding eye contact.

Yoongi cocked his head to the side. “You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?”

You turned your head away from him, feeling your face heat up from humiliation. “Kind of.”

There was silence, a deafening silence that hurt you more than getting caught trying to leave unnoticed. Was Yoongi embarrassed too? You hung your head, staring at your feet, accepting that whatever happened was a huge mistake.

Yoongi placed his fingers under your chin, tilting up your head so your eyes met his. “We’re not done for the night, Y/N,” he whispered, voice seductive. Your eyes widened, how did he approach you so quick without making a single noise? “You deserve to be fucked every way possible. Plus, my bed is waiting to meet you.” Your lips parted, taken aback by Yoongi’s words. “Would you like that?” He asked, placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth. Your knees buckled as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, a quivering breathe left your lips. Your arms fell to your sides as he embraced you by the waist, pulling you close while pressing his mouth to yours.

“You still want me?” The question leaves your lips absentmindedly, making Yoongi raise his brows.

“Of course I do. Did you think I was going to hit it and quit it, kick you out on to the curb, and never speak to you again?” He eyed you seriously as your lips formed a thin line. “Wow, Y/N, I thought you liked me,” he scoffs, patting his chest on the spot where his heart is. “You wound me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just I freaked out and —”

His lips cut you off as he gave you a tender-like kiss. “As I was saying before you ruined the moment,” he mumbles against your lips. You roll your eyes, causing him to smile. “My bed is waiting to meet you,” Yoongi continues as he gives you another kiss.

“I have work in a few hours,” you responded quietly into his lips, finally following along.

“Hmm.” He bit your lip slightly before he let it go. “So do I, and that’s not going to stop me from having sex with you a few more times.” You laughed, your stomach fluttered at how he awarded you a gummy smile.

“Yoongi, I really can’t.” You pouted your lips and Yoongi not being able to resist, kissed the pout until it became a grin.

“How about we compromise,” he started, pulling you flat against his chest, hands caressing your lower back.

“I’m listening,” you encouraged, your thumbs soothing over the soft pale skin of his cheeks.

“You stay, we fuck—” he wriggled his eyebrows up and down, “—then I take you home, we fuck again in your shower, and get ready for work.” You giggled as you shook your head. “After that, we meet back here and repeat,” he murmured as he captured your lips in another kiss.

You broke the kiss, a smile plastered on your face. You observed him, eyes focused on you, his lashes tangled with strands of damp hair. Yoongi looked as equally as fucked out as you probably did, with that hint of bliss. “Meet you in the bedroom,” you spoke against his mouth. You swerved around him, but his hand pinched your ass before you walked off, earning a squeal from you. Yoongi chuckled, arm wrapped around your torso as he fumbled forward with you leading the way down the hall to his bedroom.

You weren’t sure if this was anything serious, but it sure as hell was something, and you could tell Yoongi thought the same. Maybe panicking wasn’t the best option. After all, life was about chances and choices, and Yoongi was the most satisfying choice so far.

Yoongi’s eyes gazed at you saunter your way inside his bedroom. He whistled while you crawled onto his bed, turning to look at him with your lip caught in-between, ass on full display. He gave you a mischievous grin before he quickly followed after you. You shrieked as he jumped onto the bed, tackling you gently while his hand slid down your thigh, your thong slipping along. He engulfed you in his arms, kissing you feverishly while your head sunk into the pile of pillows.

Whatever this was, it was much better than any Horror Fest.

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inyournightmares97 · 5 years

Text

My Youth (Chapter 1)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Angst, slow build, maybe some language. (Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 3k+

(Please check my Masterlist for the Prologue and read that first! (I can’t put in links because tumblr)

You sat at your desk and slowly flipped open the newspaper. GOT Tech set to acquire its major competitors, the paper read. High growth rates predicted for the rising tech giant! The lady at the newspaper stall had handed it to you earlier that morning with a big smile. Part of you wanted to tell her to stop caring so much about Jinyoung’s successes and that he probably didn’t even remember the ahjumma he used to buy comics from. But you’d never been very good at saying what you felt. You had simply smiled and taken the newspaper from her.

She would learn her lesson eventually.

“Miss? Miss, I’ve finished these sums,” a soft voice informed you from behind your newspaper.

You lowered the newspaper and smiled at the young boy who stood in front of your desk, holding out his notebook to you. Kim Ki-woo was six years old and the smartest boy in your first grade class. It had barely been ten minutes since you’d sent the kids off to their desks to complete the sums, but he had finished them already. You smiled at him.

“Are you sure you’ve done all of them, Ki-woo?”

The boy nodded eagerly, his dark hair bouncing up and down in the mushroom cut that his mother insisted on making him wear. You folded up the newspaper and then gestured for Ki-woo to sit on the small chair next to your desk. “All right, let’s see how you’ve done then. What color pen shall I correct Ki-woo’s work with today? Blue? Purple?”

Ki-woo pointed shyly at the colored pens on your desk. “Green, Miss.”

“Green it is,” you agreed with a smile, before you began to look at the little addition sums that he’d done neatly in his book. Only one sum was wrong, simply because he’d forgotten to carry over a number. You pointed it out to him and his face fell. “You forgot to carry over the one here, Ki-woo.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. “So I don’t get a star?”

“How about I give you a small star?” you offered, reaching for the box on your desk where you kept your sticker packets. You pulled out a little packet of small silver stars while another girl came bounding over to your desk. She watched you put the little star in Ki-woo’s notebook and beamed.

“I bet I can get a big star, Ki-woo!” she teased.

You frowned at her as you handed Ki-woo his notebook back. “Let’s be nice, Jangmi. Ki-woo worked hard and did well.”

“Sorry, Miss.”

The bell rang loudly before you could say anything else and the students all rushed to their feet happily. You grinned as you watched them hurry to pack their bags and run out of the classroom. “All right, everyone! Those of you who couldn’t finish the sums today can work on them tomorrow! Everyone go home safely, now! Look both ways when you cross the street! Bye-bye!”

The children ignored you completely and ran out of the classroom in a rush. You sighed and waited for them all to leave before you began to pack up your own belongings. Sometimes you stayed late at school to plan your lessons and correct homework but today you were exhausted. There was a huge PTA fundraiser coming up next week and you were expected to help plan the event in addition to making posters for the whole thing. You had just tucked the newspaper into your bag when your phone rang.

Mrs. Park, the caller ID read. You smiled and answered the phone.

“Mrs. Park! I was just about to call you. How did you read my mind?” you asked the older woman pleasantly. Mrs. Park called you often these days, and you’d been planning to ask for her help with the fundraiser. Her delicious cookies always sold out in seconds and made the most money. You heard her laugh; a sudden, delighted little laugh that the woman rarely ever shared.

“Is that so, dear? Oh, I have something wonderful to tell you!” she chirped.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Did you finally find that lemon pie recipe you were looking for? Because I have an excellent use for it-”

“No, no, no, it’s much better than that! Isn’t school over for the day? Can you come by my house right now?” Mrs. Park asked you eagerly. You blinked in surprise and then glanced at the clock. She wanted you to come over? It was just a little past three. You had to make some calls and posters for the fundraiser but you supposed a brief chat with the older woman couldn’t hurt.

“All right, Mrs. Park. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Lovely, dear. Do hurry!”

You smiled and hung up, wondering what had made the woman so excited. Perhaps Mr. Park had gotten his test results back from the hospital. The older man’s health hadn’t been doing too well lately, and the doctors were concerned that he might have developed some heart problems. You had gone with him to the hospital last week. Mrs. Park had been extremely worried. You smiled as you quickly exited the school building and hurried towards the Parks’ home. They were the closest thing you had to parents, you supposed. It was natural that they relied on you sometimes.

The light at the crossing was red so you waited for it patiently. You had crossed this road every day during your childhood. After your Father died in a car accident you had been terrified of traffic and crossing roads.

“Who even holds hands while they cross the road?” Jinyoung teased as he reached for your hand and grasped it tightly. Some of the other kids made fun of you both for holding hands. Jinyoung turned pink whenever someone commented on it, but still kept a firm grip on your hand. “We’re too old for things like that. I won’t do this forever. Come on, the light turned green. Let’s go.”

You blushed and followed him, grateful that no matter what anyone else said or even what he himself said, Jinyoung never let go of your hand.

Seven-year old Jinyoung had been much more mature than you’d given him credit for. He would often say one thing and do another, but he always knew where to draw the line with his teasing. You smiled to yourself as you watched the light turn green.

It was absurd how something as foolish as a pedestrian light still carried memories of Jinyoung in this town.

You crossed the road quickly and found yourself in the Parks’ driveway. The wonderful smell of freshly baked cookies wafted out from the kitchen window and you smiled. It must be a special occasion if Mrs. Park was baking cookies. You rang the doorbell briefly and waited.

“That was quick!” Mrs. Park beamed at you as she opened the door. Her face was flushed pink and she was glowing, almost like a bride on her wedding day. You wondered what could have made the older, wrinkled woman suddenly look ten years younger. “Come in dear, come in! I have the most wonderful surprise for you! You’ll never believe who just dropped in!”

You smiled and stepped inside, pausing to take off your shoes in the doorway. There was another pair of shoes there and you paused. Expensive and leather, most probably male. Old Mr. Park rarely used any footwear other than his worn-out sandals since his retirement. But these shoes looked like they belonged to a young man. A stylish, rich young man. Who could Mrs. Park have possibly-

No. It can’t be.

Your stomach turned over as the realization hit you like a truck. The delighted glow on Mrs. Park’s face. The shoes. The expensive leather bag that was lying in the entrance to the living room as though thrown there haphazardly.

Park Jinyoung had finally come home.

You had thought that you would have more time.

Perhaps if you’d received some warning that you were about to come face-to-face with your long-lost childhood best friend then you would have prepared yourself. You would have thought of a few things to say, maybe a few questions to ask him. At the very least, you would have gathered your thoughts and reminded yourself to be on your best behaviour for old Mrs. Park’s sake. Your tendency to replay different possible scenarios over and over in your head had always served you well, since it meant that you were rarely caught off-guard.

Except for now. Now, when you were met with the sight of Park Jinyoung sitting on the couch.

You hadn’t played this scenario out yet. You were completely unprepared.

“Jinyoung-ie! Look who I invited over! Do you remember how much you both cried when Jinyoung left for Seoul?” Mrs. Park cooed fondly. “Oh it was such a beautiful friendship! I’m sure you both must have missed each other so much!”

Her words sounded distant. You couldn’t think of anything, you simply froze in the doorway. The sight of Jinyoung was too much to drink in. He was wearing a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and revealing his toned forearms. Jinyoung’s dark hair brushed his forehead softly and his back was straight in a perfect posture; one that conveyed confidence and pride. His dark, familiar eyes met yours and you froze.

What should you say? Should you simply say hi? Should you reach out and hug the friend you hadn’t seen in years? Should you smile at him? Should you ask him where he had been all this time and clap him on the back, or should you simply shake his hand and let the awkwardness continue?

A million possibilities flickered through your mind. A million different ways that the impending encounter before you could go.

But in the end, Jinyoung made the decision for you.

“Mom,” Jinyoung said, his voice deeper than you remembered but still somehow soft. There was a sharp tone to it. The hint of acidity told you even before he spoke that he was about to break your heart. “Mom, I told you not to tell anyone that I was here. How could you go announcing it to the townspeople within seconds?” Jinyoung demanded.

Mrs. Park looked shocked. “Well… yes dear, I know you said that. But I thought… I mean, she’s your friend so I thought you would want me to tell her, at least! She’s been comforting me while you were gone for so long, Jinyoung-ie, we’ve both been worried about you…”

You swallowed hard.

Was that how it was? You were just one of the townspeople now? Whatever small hope you had clung onto that Park Jinyoung was still your friend had vanished. What had you been thinking? If he had cared even the slightest bit for you then he would have called, or sent at least an email or a text. But Park Jinyoung had done none of those things.

To Jinyoung, you were just a vague memory from his past.

One that he evidently didn’t care much for.

“I can leave if you’d like,” you managed to say calmly. If there was one thing you’d learnt in the decade that Jinyoung had been gone, it was to maintain your dignity. You never overstayed your welcome. You had spent enough of your life feeling unwanted.

Mrs. Park gasped at your suggestion. “Of course not! Jinyoung’s only tired from the long journey! He had to take a train all the way here and you know how exhausting those things are. I’ll just bring out some tea and you’ll feel much more relaxed, Jinyoung. Why don’t you both sit down and catch up?”

Mrs. Park gently pushed you towards the couch and gave you an encouraging smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Your legs felt like jelly but you slowly walked over to sit down across from Jinyoung. His eyebrows were furrowed and he blinked in mild irritation. The expression made his handsome face detestable.

“I don’t want rumors spreading about me being here,” he told you bluntly. “So kindly keep it quiet. I only came home to see my mother.”

You felt dizzy. Even if you had had the chance to go over this scenario in your mind, you doubted that you could have predicted these words to be the first words Jinyoung said to you. You narrowed your eyes at him. The man who sat in front of you was not your childhood friend Jinyoung-ie. He was Park Jinyoung, a perfect stranger.

You intended to treat him as one.

“Rumours spreading about you making a visit to your hometown?” you asked coolly. You sat back against the couch while trying to hide your trembling hands. “Hardly sounds like the scandal of the year. What sort of paper would want to print that?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because I’m not a celebrity?” you wondered.

Jinyoung didn’t respond. He simply turned his face away from you and looked towards the window as though he was bored. The silence was rude and uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but take the opportunity to let your eyes feast on the man before you. Jinyoung had only become more handsome in the last decade. His sharp jawline was covered in a light stubble and his plump lips were pressed together tightly. The magazines had done nothing for him; he looked like a model in real life as well.

But his hands were trembling.

You had to do a double take to make sure that you’d seen correctly. Jinyoung’s eyes were casually staring out of the window and his shoulders were relaxed. His entire posture screamed arrogance and distinterest. But his hands, placed casually in his lap, were trembling.

Trembling hands. Weakness. Fear.

But… but Park Jinyoung feared nothing.

Except failure, you reminded yourself. For as long as you’d known him, Jinyoung’s biggest fear had always been failure. His thirst for success and victory had always been accompanied by a crippling terror of being anything less than the best. Park Jinyoung had to come out on top. He avoided failure like a wild deer sprinting from a lion. Gracefully, yes. Successfully, almost always.

Yet it was a sprint that was unmistakably motivated by fear.

“I hope you like the lemon tea!” Mrs. Park gushed as she entered the living room with a tray and three steaming cups of her delicious lemon tea. The rich, tangy fragrance filled the room instantly. She set the tray on the table and you spotted a plate of freshly baked cookies on them as well. “Go on; help yourselves! I remember you both used to come here and beg me to make this lemon tea while you were studying in high school!”

You reached for a cup gratefully, but Jinyoung had frozen. His hands were still trembling but now he was staring at the tea and the cookies in silence. Mrs. Park placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“Jinyoung, dear, are you okay?” she asked softly.

Jinyoung looked up and his dark eyes were suddenly misty. You stared at him in shock. Were those… tears? What was it? Was it the smell of his mother’s tea and cookies? Had they perhaps evoked some memories in him? Perhaps Jinyoung wasn’t as cold and uncaring as you first imagined.

“I, uh… I think I’ll take this tea to my room. I’d like to get some sleep,” he said hoarsely. You watched him closely as he grabbed one of the mugs of tea and took the entire tray of cookies. “Please don’t disturb me for a while.”

Mrs. Park blinked. “All… all right, Jinyoung, dear. You do that.”

He disappeared up the stairs and you were left alone with Mrs. Park, who looked at you apologetically. “I’m so sorry. He must be more tired than I thought. Why don’t you stay and have the tea-”

“That’s all right. Mrs. Park,” you reassured her kindly. You felt a sudden urge to run from this place, to get out of this house. It had felt like home to you all these years but it wasn’t. It wasn’t really your home. This was Jinyoung’s home. Whether he wanted it or not, it would always be his home and not yours. You placed a comforting hand on the older woman’s. “I’ll be back soon, Mrs. Park. I have some work to do for the PTA meeting coming up this weekend.”

She smiled at you. “Thank you-”

“Not at all. I’m sure you want to take care of Jinyoung now that he’s finally home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” She gave you a wide smile and you could see the happiness and relief in her eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad that he’s finally home.”

You smiled at her and nodded. Of course she would be. A mother could wait decades for her son and still love him no matter what. But you had never been as kind-hearted as Mrs. Park. You couldn’t wait here forever and welcome Jinyoung back with open arms no matter how much he hurt you. You wouldn’t.

As you left the Parks’ house and walked towards your apartment, hot tears welled in your eyes. The pavement under your feet was blurry. Why were your hands trembling, why did you want to sit down and cry? Why was the brief appearance of a man from your childhood enough to make your entire body tremble?

Perhaps, deep down, just like Mrs. Park and old Mr. Kang and the lady from the newspaper stall, even you had carried a small hope that someday Jinyoung would come back.

You paused in the middle of the sidewalk, took a deep breath and then reached inside of you to find where that tiny little hope had been resting in your heart. That tiny little hope that your best friend still cared about you. That tiny little hope that Jinyoung would embrace you with open arms. That tiny little hope that there was a good, justified reason why Park Jinyoung had cut you off all these years. That tiny little hope that had made today’s encounter so painful.

You carefully drew that tiny little hope out and then you killed it.

And as you continued your walk, you felt that much lighter.

---

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 fluff #got7 angst #got7 jinyoung #park jinyoung #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung angst #got7 fanfiction #got7 drabbles #got7 imagines #got7 series #jinyoung my youth

192 notes · View notes

hazkiwislutt · 5 years

Text

humble beginnings.

{ it’s athena!! this is something i wrote ‘cause i was inspired; my parents both immigrated to the US and i grew up in SF. since the city is so dear to me, i only take people i genuinely trust to see where i’ve grown up because it isn’t exactly “the ritz” and i come from pretty humble beginnings that some people have difficulty swallowing. also,, i’m filipina, so some of the details in here cater to my filipina readers! HOWEVER, if you guys want to request certain types of cultures or have any requests in general, don’t be afraid to ask me ‘cause i’ll most definitely write them. i hope you enjoy!! }

“Hey, H? Can I ask you something?”

You weren’t a person who was acquainted with nervousness.

Your voice never wavered when you talked (not even when you delivered an impromptu speech to thousands of people at your college graduation because the original speaker ate bad shrimp an hour before the ceremony). Your hands were never clammy, and they never shook (even when you had to sew your dad’s thumb back onto his hand after he severed it while shucking oysters at your tenth birthday party). Your stomach never filled with butterflies that intended to make you hurl (not even when you had take the blame for your little sister breaking your mom’s favorite china).

Now, though, you felt all of these symptoms of nervousness amplified, because you were about to ask your boyfriend of a little over ten months if he’d like to come home for New Year’s with you, so that he could finally meet your parents and visit your hometown.

It wasn’t that Harry was a scary person; in fact, he was the definition of sunshine, the epitome of kindness, the pinnacle of love. You knew he loved you, and you knew that you were being a silly for being so nervous, but your past was something you could not shake at times. You weren’t embarrassed, per se, but you were definitely wary that not everybody could understand your roots, and you didn’t want to overwhelm Harry with your family and your origin.

“F’course, love. Anything, y’know that.” He looked up at you from where he was sitting on the couch, clad in a black t-shirt with grey sweats, legs splayed wide. “But first, come over here. I’d like a cuddle, please.” You obliged, straddling his waist and leaning your head on his shoulder. He squeezed you tightly to him, drawing patterns on your back as you rose and fell slightly with his breathing.

“So, I know New Years is coming up soon,” you started slowly, calculating your words because the anxious feeling in your stomach was overwhelming. “And I was just wondering if you’d like to come meet my parents, finally. You can say no, of course, it was just a suggestion and honestly, I don’t know why I asked, it was stupid, just forget that I even said anything- oh!”

Harry giggled as he pressed his lips against yours before pulling back and looking at you. He shook his head, threading his fingers through your hair.

“Silly girl, f’course I’d love t’go. When do we leave?”

...

The drive to your parents’ house took longer than you’d expected, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Embarrassment had never been the word used to describe your feelings towards your family, your background, and your hometown. Your parents had raised you to the best of their abilities, and although they had little to nothing when they’d first immigrated to the States (though, not much had changed), they worked hard and you were immensely proud and endlessly grateful for their determination to give you and your siblings the life they could never have.

However, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Harry would look at your humble beginnings and think twice about your relationship. You had never allowed any of your past partners to meet your parents out of discomfort, but Harry was different. You were completely sure that your future could involve Harry, even if it had only been ten months. As stupid as it was, you just didn’t want Harry to feel that he was in too far over his head.

The doubts in your head whizzed around faster than the cars next to you on the freeway, and you hadn’t realized Harry had taken the exit into the Excelsior District of San Francisco. The streets were cramped, and pedestrians braved the sloping hills to run down to the shabby shops and stands on the infamous Mission Street. Your nerves jumped as he made his way up the nearly vertical hills and streets that were so small, they might as well have been called over-exaggerated sidewalks.

“That’s the one,” you commented softly, pointing at your parents’ dingy house from down the street as Harry had turned onto Vienna.

Your parents’ house sat at the top of a tall flight of stairs leading up to the chipped front door, and the front yard (if it could even be deemed as one) was littered with random patches of grass poking through the cracked, uneven cement. The house was mostly grey, since it was built quickly and carelessly to satisfy the wave of immigrants that your parents had come over with when they were barely in their twenties. Harry parked in your parents’ driveway, his Range Rover sat slanted worryingly to the right because of the uneven incline of the hills, looking painfully out of place in a neighborhood where the inhabitants could only dream of being able to scrape enough money together to buy one.

“C’mon, then, let’s go meet the in-laws,” Harry giggled, wiggling his eyebrows at you and scrambling out of the car. If you’d been in a better mindset, you’d definitely laugh at how comical his excitement was, but your stomach was twisting and your palms were beginning to sweat a disgusting amount. He hadn’t seemed perturbed by the scenery and the evident lack of luster of your parents’ house, but you believed him to be covering up his confusion and disgust.

Sighing, you peered at Harry unloading the bags from the trunk through the rearview mirror, and opened the door to help him. You grabbed your bag and began to lead him up the steps to the front door, grimacing at every groan and creak that the eroded wood gave on your ascent.

“This is so cool! Their house s’like, in the air! Christ, yeh could get a workout from all those steps too, m’already winded.” You smiled shyly at him, and he returned it with a cheeky grin. “S’that why yeh’ve got such a nice a-! Ow, okay! I won’t finish that sentence.”

Harry continued huffing and puffing until you reached the top of the flight, right in front of the wooden front door that was chipped and cracked in certain places. You knocked, wincing as you reminded yourself to tell your parents that you could help them at least get a better door, since this one looked as if you could tap it and it would fall inward.

You heard Harry whistle, and felt him slip his hand into yours. He was staring out at the overlook of the city, a view you had the pleasure of looking at every morning before you took off for the bus station to get to school. It showed the neighborhoods across the freeway and the city from where you both stood.

“That’s quite the view, love! Can’t believe yeh got to wake up an’ see tha’ everyday!” Harry’s voice was filled with such childlike wonder, it almost made you lighten up and smile, until you internally reminded yourself that the view was the only nice thing about this place.

The lovely scene was harshly interrupted by an aggressive creaking of someone attempting to open the poor excuse of a door, revealing your mother looking physically frail and tired, wearing a shabby housedress she probably had owned since she was in her twenties and an apron that looked as if it were held together by God’s will. You’d missed her.

“Anak! Malamig sa labas, pasok ka!” (Dear, it’s cold outside, come in!) Your mother grabbed you by the hand and pulled you inside, dragging Harry along since your hands were still intertwined. The warm of the small house enveloped you and your eyes watered at the familiar smell that filled the walls. You’d truly missed home.

“Nanay,” you breathed, hugging her tightly, “I missed you.” She smiled at you warmly and patted your cheek with her hand, before you took it from her and blessed your forehead with it. It was a custom that had been engrained into your head since you were a child when you interacted with your elders.

Your mother peered around you curiously and you stepped aside to introduce Harry, who was grinning and already reaching out to shake your mother’s hand. “Ito ang aking novio, Nay.” (This is my boyfriend, Mom.) Your mother shook his hand, and you marveled as Harry bent down to bless his forehead with your mother’s hand.

“M’Harry, s’lovely t’finally meet yeh...Erm...” Harry had straightened out, maintaining eye contact with your mom until he’d realized he didn’t know what to call her.

“Mom,” your mother piped up, her accent as prominent as the surprise she wore on her face in response to Harry’s gesture, “You call me Mom.” She bumped his hip with her own and gave you a conspicuous side-eye, before telling you in Tagalog to give him a tour and to put your bags in your old room. Harry grinned bashfully, and you gave him a real smile. Your heart was still filled with an indescribable warmth as you realized Harry had taken a small piece of your culture and used it to integrate himself into your family and impress your parents.

“Baby, just leave your bags here while I show you around. It’ll take like, three minutes. There’s not much to show.” You mumbled the last part, eyes shifting around to your parent’s squalid home, and you caught Harry looking at you questioningly.

As soon as you walked into your parents’ house, you were in the living room. It was smaller than you and Harry’s shared closet, crammed with a faded print sofa that sagged precariously close to the ground and should have been thrown out years ago, accompanied by a television balanced precariously on a broken wooden table that you remember your father buying from your next door neighbor when you were ten. There was a single window that was cracked with blinds that were yellowed and brittle, and there were dusty bookshelves that were filled with miscellaneous items that hadn’t been picked up in years.

“This is just the living room, s’nothing special.” Harry observed closely everything you’d just pointed out, and he smiled again when he caught your eye. You motioned for him to follow you further into the house, which was really only three or four steps, until you showed him the first door, right next to the arm of the sofa.

“S’just my parents’ room here, I’d show you but they’ve not cleaned it since they first came here, plus my dad is probably changing, and I don’t think you want to see that.” You gestured to the door right next to the first one. “That’s where we’re staying, but I’ll show you after. Come on.”

You pulled Harry a few more steps to enter the kitchen through a crumbling wooden doorframe. The soft tile of the kitchen was splintered and missing in some places, creating an odd patchwork that made you groan internally. The dining table was flimsy and shoved against the wall so that there was enough room to walk through to the actual kitchen. It looked as if it would collapse under the weight of all the dishes your mother was putting out, but you knew it wouldn’t. You smiled softly as you remembered the time you’d made a running leap on top of it to evade your younger brother after you’d taken his underpants while he was trying to change.

The chairs that surrounded the pitiful table were all different, ranging from plastic chairs to fold out chairs to a random rocking chair your father bought when you were twelve, each one creaky and old and a reminder of your background.

“Uh, well, this is the dining room, obviously. It’s also the kitchen, ‘cause the kitchen is literally one step away...” Your mother was diligently stirring sotanghon in a pot in the kitchen, which was nothing more than a few cabinets with the doors hanging off on their hinges, an incredibly eroded sink, and a stove that looked perpetually dirty, even if you’d spent the entire day cleaning it.

“Nay, I’m going to show him the bathroom. Excuse me,” you said as your mother walked out of the kitchen to allow you both to walk through. You walked a few steps and turned to the right, where one door lay sandwiched between the walls.

“This is the bathroom,” you slowly started, jiggling the door handle harshly and bumping your shoulder against the door to get it to open. This time, you let out an audible sigh as you took in the sight of the bathroom. The tub’s white enamel was chipped in so many places, it could’ve passed as brown with white flecks, and the bottom of it was literally held together by duct tape. You peered at the ceiling, which wasn’t a ceiling, really, but rather cardboard boxes stretched out and duct taped to cover the holes where the ceiling panels had fallen out. The single window by the toilet wasn’t even a window, for Christ’s sake, but instead, a wooden slab propped up against the broken glass to keep the air out. You looked into the scratched mirror and saw your face burn hot with shame.

“Love? S’the matter?” Harry was looking at you with his brows furrowed, and he reached out for your arm. You shook your head, pushing him out of the bathroom and ushering him back through the kitchen to the front door where you’d left your bags. Your mom was fixing the food at the dining table, and was painfully oblivious to the turmoil in your mind at the moment.

You grabbed your bags, and motioned for him to grab his, before leading him to your old bedroom, which you’d shared with all six of your siblings growing up.

You opened the door, close to tears as you took in the appearance of it, before shoving it shut with your shoulder. The white walls were cracked, and the ceiling was covered by more cardboard boxes. There was one battered twin bed covered in paper thin, threadbare sheets that were pressed up against the wall that the youngest of your siblings used to share, and a stack of thin blankets in the corner of the room that the older ones used to lay on the floor at night. Your only solace was that you were the only one visiting for the holiday, so that you and Harry wouldn’t be cramped in this room with your siblings. There was a minuscule closet with the door hanging off brokenly, and inside you saw a mass of boxes filled with God knows what.

The room was dark, because the ramshackle blinds that covered the window were drawn shut, and you shuffled your feet along the scratchy carpet as you felt your shoulders start to shake and tears start to fall. You felt Harry attempt to envelope you in his large frame, but you jerked away and reared to face him.

“Harry, you can leave.” You choked on your last word a bit, but stifled the cry that threatened to come out, because the walls were thin and you didn’t want your parents to worry.

“What d’yeh mean, love?” His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and his hands gripped the bags on his shoulders tightly, wondering what he’d done, or what had happened between now and five minutes ago, when you’d both first stepped foot into the house. He wondered if he’d heard you right, and held his breath as he waited to find out.

“You can leave,” you gritted out, “because where I come from isn’t what you need, or deserve, and it sure as hell isn’t what you want. It’s ugly, and dirty, and poor, and I’m sorry I brought you here.”

Harry was taken aback, confused as to where you inferences of his feelings came from, but as he saw the tears falling rapidly from your eyes, he realized this was a deep-rooted insecurity that you’d trusted him with. He knew you were scared and vulnerable, and Harry prided himself on making you feel safe and at home.

“Love, it’s none of those things. M’being honest w’yeh, I don’t see it like tha-” He was cut off by your disgruntled snort.

“Oh, you don’t, do you? Don’t fucking lie to me. This house is worth a lot less than your car, Harry. Even when it was first built, it looked shabby and worn down. It’s disgusting, and you know it.” You were still talking low, but Harry could feel the emotions in your voice, even if he didn’t understand them.

“Love, m’not lying to yeh, swear on it! I don’t mind this at all-” He was interrupted once again by another outburst.

“Harry,” you breathed in, your lungs rattling with your effort to keep quiet, “I love you. I love you, meaning I love everything about you, every part of you. It’s so easy to love you, and I’m sorry it’s not the same for me, because there’s no way to love this. There is absolutely no way for you to love this part of me.”

You weakly gestured around the room, not daring to look at him before you continued, “There were twelve of us living in this house when my grandparents were still alive. Twelve people, one bathroom, two bedrooms. You’re telling me you don’t mind this? Even I minded it, every fucking day when I was growing up here, going to a school with other kids who didn’t have to share their room with six other people and didn’t have to live in a slum. My parents barely made enough to keep this place. It’s still hard for them to afford this place. It’s dirty, dingy, disgusting... I’m the first to admit that. I’ve never taken anyone to meet my parents, or see my home. Ever. You don’t have to lie and tell me you don’t mind, because I know, H. I know what the truth is, and I’m not angry that you think so. This is where I come from, and I can’t put that on you. I love you, but I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve someone who comes from this. You deserve a lot better, a lot more than me.”

You were properly sobbing now, not caring if your parents heard at this point. Harry had listened intently, wanting to immediately cut in and tell you that he loved you, and that he really didn’t mind, and that you had the truth wrong, and that he didn’t want anyone else but you because you were already more than enough for him, but he waited until you were finished so that he could give you full reassurance. He dropped his bags and crushed you to him, ignoring the way you initially stiffened in his hold.

“Remember when we first started dating, hm? An’ we went to your favorite restaurant t’celebrate getting your job? When we got home, there were pictures everywhere of me holding your hand an’ kissing you, an’ people were being terrible to you right? What did I say to yeh when tha’ happened? Tell me, angel.” Your face was buried into his chest, soaking his t-shirt and he felt a muffled rumble against him as you answered. He smiled before saying, “Can’t hear yeh, love.” He heard you breathe exasperatedly before answering louder.

“’This is what comes with me. I can’t change it, and I can’t force you to stick through it if you don’t want to. But I’m crazy about you, and I want this with you, so I’m going to selfishly ask that if you’re just as crazy about me, to stay and we can both work it out together.’” Your voice was still shaky, but his smile grew as he ran his fingers through your hair, still cradling you to his chest.

“An’ look wha’ you did, baby. Stayed w’me, an’ we worked it out together, right?” He felt you nod timidly, before pulling you away so that he could look into your eyes.

“Not going anywhere, ‘cause this is what comes w’you, and m’absolutely crazy for yeh. Can’t change it, and yeh can’t force me t’stick through this, but you’d never have to because I want to. I want yeh. M’staying, an’ I love yeh endlessly, regardless of where yeh from, where you’ve gone, where you’re going t’be. Don’t know how you could ever think that about your background. S’bloody incredible. This house gave way to the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, and I’m eternally grateful tha’ you trusted me enough to let me in like this.”

Your breathing had slowed and you were crying for an entirely different reason now. Your heart was full with the weight of Harry’s words and empty of the ugly insecurities you’d harbored a few minutes prior. Harry’s voice dropped even lower as he continued, “Fuck life in the fast lane, I’d let all of our kids grow up like this if it means they’ll end up as extraordinary as you, my love.”

You crashed your lips against Harry’s as you felt your heart swell even more, and you felt him smile against your lips. You pulled away breathlessly and crushed him to you, murmuring softly, “Thank you, thank you, I love you, I’m sorry, I love you,” until he shushed you with another kiss.

You both situated your bags and wiped your teary eyes before braving your parents. Grasping Harry’s hand, you pulled him out of your room and toward the dining room.

Your mom was sitting at the food laden dining table with your dad, and they both turned toward you with smiles on their faces when you entered the dining room. Your dad eyed Harry up and down in a cold manner, and you felt Harry’s hand stiffen in yours. You stifled a laugh, knowing your dad was simply pranking him, but deciding to play along.

Your dad scooted his chair away from the table, making a loud scraping sound as he limped over to you and Harry, keeping a death stare. Harry’s hand was clammy in yours, and you turned to look at him, taking in his pale complexion and the sweat forming on his forehead. Your dad had stopped in front of you both, and Harry extended his other hand before greeting him with a timid, “Hello, sir, m’Harry.”

Your dad eyed Harry’s hand with contempt, and you heard Harry stuttering before you dad broke into a broad smile and passed Harry’s hand to give him a hug instead. Harry’s eyes bugged out of his head and darted to find yours, only to see you giggling behind your hand. Your dad cleared his throat, before speaking, his accent prominent as he continued to cling to Harry, “After a speech like that, you call me Dad, and you give me as many grandchildren as you’d like! No more crying, let’s eat!”

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ohsnapitzlovehacker · 5 years

Text

No One Else - College AU Part 2 (Colt x MC)

Author note: I totally didn’t plan to write more than a one shot. But I kinda like college Izzy?? And the best things happen in twos! Also, thank you guys for reading and commenting! 😭😭😭

Summary: Continuation of Part 1

Song rec: For Desire by Camody

Word Count: 1,431

Tag list: (LMK if you want to added/removed):

@thefarrari @leelee10898 @liamzigmichael4ever @going-down-downtown @indiacater @lovehugsandcandy @teenytinymagician @brightpinkpeppercorn @emomoustache @fucking-random1 @long-gone-girl @alegria1580 @average-sunflower @scgdoeswhat

Izzy drove through Georgetown’s traffic-jammed streets with one hand because her other was occupied by Colt’s mouth. She didn’t mind the light kisses or the sweet brush of heat against her skin, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes on the road. “You haven’t said a thing about my car, so you must have really missed me,” Izzy smirked, stopping at a red light. Colt laughed, releasing her hand to drag his own across her thigh.

“If you weren’t driving, I could show you how much,” Colt responded, eliciting a faint blush across her cheeks. The light turned green, and Izzy was glad to focus her attention back on the road. A destination had formed in her mind, but she was content to chauffeur her boyfriend around. Although...did this mean they were back together again? Izzy snuck a glance at him, yelping when she realized Colt was looking right at her. Maybe boyfriend was too generous a term at the moment, but she felt her resolve and common sense crumble.

Colt watched Izzy quickly jerk her head back to the road, both hands now on the wheel as he drew lazy circles on her leg. The new guy, Jamie, had been the one to tell Kaneko that Colt had caught the next plane to D.C., and there was no telling exactly when he’d be back. After all this time and after all the grief he’d caused for him and Izzy, Colt was still jealous of the close relationship she had with her father. Even when they weren’t together, Colt knew Izzy came home especially to pay the detective a visit, welcomed with open arms. And on the opposite end of the doting father spectrum, Kaneko not so subtly liked to remind Colt that Izzy was nothing but trouble at worse, a distraction at best, and he’d be better off without her. “Is that what you said about Mom?” Colt had shot back, knowing that the rest of the crew could hear their argument outside the office door. Kaneko was silent for so long Colt prepared to stand and walk out, but paused when his father continued. “She’s all those miles away in a different world, and you’re here expecting to take my place one day. My son, do you realize you’re not thinking clearly?”

Izzy had never asked him to leave the Mercy Park Crew, but she didn’t have to. She understood it was his legacy, the one chip of many on his shoulders he couldn’t shake off, yet the issue sat heavily between them. Colt had also never asked Izzy to stay back in L.A. with him, for him, as much as wanted her by his side and entangled in his life. But he wasn’t stupid, and Izzy was her own person who called the shots and made her own decisions which he respected. There was something sexy about her ambition, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt she’d achieve her goal of getting her mechanical engineering degree. Colt had made the mistake of joking that she didn’t need a college degree for that, and instead of an argument, Izzy hadn’t talked to him in a week. Everyone in the MPC had hated Izzy for inciting Colt’s temper as a consequence.

For all their ups and downs and disagreements, he couldn’t get enough of her. Would they really be Izzy and Colt if they didn’t butt heads or get on each other’s nerves? The always made up, Colt made sure of it. “I’ve never given you an official tour,” Izzy mused, breaking for the pedestrians who took their sweet time crossing the street. These were the things that made Colt itch for L.A. as he fought he urge to smash Izzy’s car horn. “I didn’t come here for a tour Izz,” Colt smirked and Izzy met his gaze with a soft smile.

“Well, are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Izzy found a place to park, and taking his hand in hers, led Colt to the pizzeria she and Cora has discovered by accident last semester. The air was cool, and the atmosphere light as Colt and Izzy walked quietly, people-watching the entire way. If Izzy closed her eyes, she could easily pretend that Colt belonged to her world, he wasn’t stuck in the life of a career criminal, and that they’d been together for almost two years without a break. And yet, Izzy was used to not getting the things she most wanted in life. Her mother had still died too soon, her best friends since childhood no longer talked to each other and hardly had time for her, and Colt would never truly be hers. At least, not in the way it mattered.

“We’re here!” Izzy announced, putting more force in her cheery disposition than necessary. Colt saw right through her. Before he could form the question, Izzy had them in a booth, pouring over a menu as she chatted on about the specials and which pastas were served each day. Colt studied her, patiently waiting for her to run out of steam before bluntly asking, “Izzy, what’s wrong?” Izzy opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, before shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she waved off. Izzy could lie when it counted, but Colt was determined to clear the air of whatever was bothering her. His thoughts snagged suddenly, and the next thing he knew, he was counting down weeks in his head. He sat back like a shot, catching Izzy off guard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Izzy, are you pregnant?”

Colt’s heart hardly had a second to panic when Izzy burst out laughing, covering her mouth to muffle the sounds as patrons looked over at the couple in mild amusement. Relieved that there wouldn’t be a child in either of their futures, Colt’s shoulders relaxed.

“Okay, so what is it?”

Izzy gave him a puzzled look as their hot plate of bread sticks arrived at the table. When Colt continued to stare her down, Izzy made a noise between a grunt and a snort, nostrils flaring in frustration, and Colt had to admit it was pretty adorable.

“Sweetheart, what was that? I don’t think I caught that.”

It was the sudden flash in her eyes that warned Colt he’d said or done something wrong. “It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, does it?” Izzy snapped a bread stick in half, glaring at the table. But as suddenly as her anger flared, she cooled back down, reaching for an unbroken bread stick to snap off a piece. “So when do you head back to L.A.?”Izzy leveled him with a stare of her own and it was Colt’s turn to reel back in his anger. “I just got here, Izzy. Trying to get rid of me already?” Izzy shrugged, popping a piece of bread in her mouth and chewing slowly. Colt’s eyes fell to her lips, and the small table between them felt like it stretched on for miles.

“Izzy, I don’t wanna fight. You’ve never had issues speaking your mind before,” he paused significantly, and Izzy let out a laugh, shaking her head. She offered a bread stick to Colt, and when he didn’t reach for one, she pushed the plate to the side, leaning her head against her palm. She’d traded her hoops for small, diamond-like studs and a stud nose piercing, both of which Colt couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have them. “You never do anything you don’t want to,” Izzy began, earnest, brown eyes locked on his. Colt waited for her to continue. “It’s just, I feel like we’re on borrowed time, and it’s only a matter of time before I don’t fit.... before we call it quits. For good.”

Sometime during her confession, Izzy hadn’t felt the tears that gathered in her eyes. She was surprised when a teardrop landed on the table, a small splat on the polished table. “Hey, look at me. Izzy?” Her eyes traveled up to Colt again, and she held his gaze with difficulty. People crying made him uncomfortable, but Izzy’s tears made him angry with himself for causing her pain. Colt refused to give her false hope or empty promises, but the one thing that rang true no matter how many fights they had was that he loved her. He always would. There was no one else out there for him, and it was just another thing his father would have to get over.

Izzy wasn’t sure when he’d left his side of the booth to sit next to her, but she welcomed his closeness, burying her face into his chest. His warmth fought the chill gathered in her heart, and she held back another onslaught of tears. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you in if you get snot on my jacket,” she heard Colt say, and rather than roll her eyes in annoyance, she surprised him with a sudden kiss. She didn’t have all the answers, but she did know that she loved Colt and there was no one else out there for her.

#playchoices #choices rod #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x izzy parker #long post #college au #playchoicees fanfiction #ladydiane writes

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tiny-cloud-dragon · 5 years

Text

Random Bits: FF7 03

I’m actually not sure I’ve already posted this here or not, so I’ going to post it (possibly again)

[Setting - Cloud finally finds out what gets under Zack’s skin.]

[Location - the streets of Midgar Edge - noon.]

A disembodied Angeal Head floated across the velvety black screen of Cloud's memory, bouncing slowly in random directions like the ghost of an old Windows Logo screensaver.

"Go take a walk!" it commanded with each ricochet.

It was joined by a Zack Head, which also began bouncing randomly around and repeating "No, don't eat him!"

Cloud scowled to himself as the memory flickered unbidden across the backs of his eyelids.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo*

1st Class SOLDIER Timothy Titsworth burst into the conference room with the force of an angry soccer mom who has just found out her little angel was allowed to watch a PG-13 movie. Known as "Tiddy" (because there was no joining an army without acquiring some kind of weird, cool, humorous, or downright embarrassing nickname that you either loved or hated), Timothy showed great promise as a SOLDIER, but he was overly ambitious, and more than a bit egotistical.

"What the hell, Tiddy!" Angeal barked, rising from his seat at the conference table, where he had been discussing plans for the upcoming Games with Zack, Cloud, and President Rufus Shinra.

"What the hell, indeed, Sir!" Titsworth snarled, saluting as an afterthought. "I want to be assigned to a higher level training mission-!"

"No." Cloud said firmly as Angeal apologized to Rufus for the interruption. "I already told you that you aren't ready. Get out, now. I am in the middle of a meeting, and you are out of line, Private Tiddy." he continued, deliberately stressing Titsworth's rank as an unspoken reminder of who he was speaking to, and unintentionally making a pun that caused Zack to make a very un-General like snorting sound.

Titsworth looked at Zack like a miffed child hoping that Daddy might say 'yes', even though Mommy had already said 'no'.

"General Fair, I-!"

The room was suddenly full of angry dragon. Papers scattered, people made exclamations of surprise, chairs tipped, and someone laughed as Cloud Shifted into his ELIETE form and, with mouth gaping, lunged across the desk at Titsworth.

Zack jumped on Cloud's long neck, landing just behind his head, and managed to grab the long, whisker/tendril/moustache/feeler thingies trailing from the sides of his snout and hauled on them like reins while shouting "No, don't eat him!"

Massive jaws with long fangs snapped shut inches from Titsworth's face and Cloud goose-honked in pained surprise, pulling his head up and back, twisting it from side to side while backing up as he tried to relieve the sharp pulling on his face feelers. He Shifted back to his normal shape, leaving Zack sitting in mid-air for the length of an eye blink before gravity caught up with reality and he crashed to the floor.

Zack immediately bounced up and grabbed Cloud by the arm before he could lunge at Titsworth again.

"Go take a walk, "Angeal snapped at Cloud, who was all scowls and hisses.

"But what about-!" Titsworth began from where he had fetched up against the wall. Like a terrier with a rat, he was not about to let the argument go, out of either a poor sense of self-preservation, or out-right stupidity.

"Shut up, before I tell General Fair to let him go, and we end up having to send your mother an 'In Sympathy for Your Loss' card!" Angeal snapped with that tight-lipped, angry-eyed expression that most teens didn't even have to see to know it was being made. It was an expression that had its own sound.

Titsworth huffed, but closed his mouth. He remained on the floor, sitting very still as Cloud stormed out of the room. Dragons were like cats. They would go after anything that moved, so it was best not to draw their attention.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo* Cloud shook his head at the memory, causing the Heads to bounce violently around and collide with each other with a double "ouch!" before they faded away. He was only mildly annoyed by now, having walked several blocks, but he couldn't help but feel unjustly put-upon. It wasn't like he'd chosen his ELITE form, and he couldn't help that it would sometimes take over. It wasn't his fault that dragons had a very simple idea of what constituted 'conflict resolution', and that it mostly involved eating whomever caused the conflict.

Go take a walk...

Cloud would have rather gone out for a nice long flight. It was much more fun, and relaxing, but it did tend to stir up the city's inhabitants. There was just something about a black winged shadow passing overhead that would send people screaming in panic. Old instincts died hard, and deep in most the primitive part of their brains, people were still just small, soft-bodied squeaky creatures hiding under leaves and flinching at shadows.

He turned a corner and continued walking briskly along the shop lined street, noticing that other pedestrians were trying to avoid him without looking like they were avoiding him. It might have worked, if it had been one or two individuals. There is just nothing subtle about an entire crowd suddenly crossing to the other side of the street.

Cloud found himself completely alone on the sidewalk. That was fine with him. At least he didn't have to feel like he was in the middle of a school of salmon during their running season.

The ponderous growl of a heavy engine pulled Cloud from his musings. He paused and turned just in time to watch one of the army's humvees pull up to the curb beside him.

Zack, grinning from ear to ear, leaned toward the open passenger side window and said, in his best Creepy Witch Voice, "Need a ride little girl?"

Cloud hissed at him and resumed walking, forcing Zack to drive slowly along beside him.

"Come on, Spiky! I'm sorry I pulled your face feelers!"

Cloud pointedly ignored him.

"Don't be salty,"

Cloud kept walking.

"Don't be like that-!" Zack steered around a parked car and rolled back along side Cloud. "I'll let you work my stick-shift!"

The offer was met with an icy side eye and frigid silence.

"I'll pay you," Zack venture playfully, with a cheeky grin.

"You can't afford me." Cloud replied curtly.

Zack's grin froze, then shattered into an open mouthed gape as the comment hit him like a cast-iron lightning bolt. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the feeling that a white-hot icicle had just been fired through his brain.

"I...did...did you...just...?" he stammered, the humvee stalling as he briefly forgot how to drive. Well, I'll be dipped in shit! Now I know how Dr. Hyansen felt! Zack thought after he recovered enough from the unexpected sarcasm that he was able to get the vehicle restarted.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Zack called as he caught up to Cloud and parked. "Just get in, okay? Look," he said, holding up a brown paper bag, "I brought shrimp yum yum sitcks!"

Cloud's eyes were instantly glued to the bag. The scent of shrimp and vegetables in a crispy wrapper covered in toasted sesame seeds hit him straight in the olfactory receptors. He struggled with himself, pushing for Caution, while the dragon part of him drooled all over Common Sense.

It's obviously a bribe, Cloud warned the dragon.

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

No, he's using food to-!

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

But, listen, he-!

NO! SHRIMP YUM YUM STICKS!

Cloud's stomach growled, and he gave in. As he climbed into the passenger's seat, he had to laugh at himself. Hey little boy, I've got some candy in my van, he thought with a wry snort.

"What are you laughing at?" Zack asked.

"Nothing." Cloud said slightly irritated at how he would do almost anything for those stupid sticks. It was a good thing Zack hadn't brought canned cat food... Cloud snatched the bag from Zack and took a big bite out of one of the sticks while the dragon part of him happily chanted Shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp!

"You can still work my stick-shift if you want," Zack offered jokingly, patting the shift handle. He completely missed the slight tightening around Cloud's eyes, and the tiniest of upward curving at the corners of his mouth.

"I'll pass," Cloud replied, the words coming out slightly distorted as he shoved another yum yum stick into his mouth. "Your knob is too small."

"Wha-!" Zack all but yelped, a full body cringe slamming down his spine as his body tried to physically force the word 'knob' back out through his ears.

"The knob," Cloud repeated as Zack cringed again, "It's, too small so it makes your hand hurt on long drives."

Zack shot him a suspicious look, but it merely ricocheted harmlessly off the look of genuine sincerity and yum yum stick crumbs on Cloud's face.

"Maybe I should put in a request for bigger knobs..." Cloud suggested, "Bigger knobs would fit more comfortably in your hand and make them easier to manipulate for longer periods of time, right?"

Zack flinched and Cloud could almost see his brain shudder as it tried to use its own stem to tear out his eardrums.

"Stop it!" Zack snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Saying...'knob',"

"What's wrong with the word 'knob'?" Cloud asked, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion while Zack cringed.

"You saying it. It's just...wrong,"

"I'm saying 'knob' wrong?"

"NO! Just stop saying it!"

"There's nothing wrong with knobs," Cloud chided. "Lot's of things have knobs," he continued while Zack cringed and flinched along.

"Like radios. Radios have knobs. And tv's have knobs. Dressers have knobs. Oh, and cabinets have knobs. Beds have knobs, and you can put a knob of butter on your toast. Trees have knobs too, and hands can get knobby, and even people have knobs! My mom had knobs and she said that when I annoyed her I was 'twisting her knobs'...or was that 'pushing her buttons? I forget-!"

"Stop saying 'knob'! Zack wailed, hands clamped protectively over his ears.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape over the word 'knob'?

Zack bristled at the word, his hair lifting like the hackles of an angry wolf. It was then that he noticed the slight crinkling around Cloud's eyes.

"You dick!" Zack snarled, annoyed. "Play Backwater Dummy with me, will you?" He leaned in close, and with a malicious grin, started wiggling his eyebrows.

Cloud recoiled, Shifting into his half-form and hissing shrimp yum yum stick all over Zack's face as memories of a certain Inspector's rather mobile eyebrows rose up to haunt him like a greasy meal at 3am after six beers.

Unperturbed by the macerated mist, Zack continued wiggling his eyebrows, laughing evilly, "How do you like that huh? Say 'knob' again, you little turd!" He reached out to playfully poke Cloud.

Out of pure reflex Cloud bit the offending appendage.

Zack yelped more out of surprise than pain, and snatched his hand away, retreating back to the driver's seat to inspect the damage.

"Not cool, man, you gave me a noodle hand!" He said with a pout, illustrating his grievance by flapping his now numb hand around on the end of his wrist.

"I didn't mean to,"

Zack started using his left hand to rapidly and repetitively smack his right arm against his thigh.

"You want a rag...or... something?"

Zack paused, eyeing Cloud suspiciously. Almost afraid of the answer, he risked asking "For what?"

"So you won't be walking around the rest of the day wearing that shrimp facial."

"Oh. Yeah." Zack replied, realizing that the remnants of shrimp yum yum sticks were quietly getting crusty on his skin. He took the napkins Cloud fished out of the crumpled bag on the floor boards and awkwardly used his left hand to wipe his face.

"How's your hand?" Cloud inquired, a note of guilt hovering in his voice.

"Hanging in there," Zack replied with a lopsided grin.

Cloud signed into his hands in mild irritation at Zack's penchant for making jokes out of everything.He felt Zack patting him on the shoulder. There was something awkward about the gesture that had nothing to do with the current atmosphere.

Looking up, Cloud saw Zack using his left hand to hold his numb arm up by the elbow and slap the appendage down on his shoulder. He imagined that this was exactly how it felt to be patted by a zombie. Cloud snorted in reluctant amusement and shoved the dead arm off his shoulder. The limp limb bounced off the back of the seat and slithered down the armrest to swing loosely at Zack's side.

Both men stared at the arm mutely until it stopped swinging like a slowly winding down clock pendulum before looking at each other.

Zack arched an eyebrow and said, "What? You like the angle of the dangle?"

Cloud rolled his eyes so hard he almost became the first person to find out what the backs of his own eye sockets looked like.

Zack laughed and started the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked in alarm, "You can't drive like that!"

"Sure I can. I'll drive, and you can work my stick!"

"Move, I'm driving."

"Fine. Killjoy.Want me to shift your stick?" Zack asked as Cloud settled into the driver's seat.

"No thanks, I can do it myself."

"Riiiight!" Zack drawled, doing a single finger gun.

"Do you want two noodle arms? Because that's how you get two noodle arms."

"Okay, okay. It's gone, see?" Zack pretended to chuck the offensive appendage armament behind him.

"You know, it's a good thing we aren't too far from Base." Cloud said as he pulled out into traffic.

"Why?"

"My hand won't have time to cramp up because of the--!"

"Don't say it--!"

"Knob."

Zack's distressed cry of "Stop saying 'knob'!" rang in the air before dopplering into silence as they drove away.

End.

#cloud strife #zack fair #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii #random bits #final fantasy fanfiction #fanfiction #ff7 fanfiction #ffvii fanfiction #fanfic #ff7 fanfic

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nicolewrites · 6 years

Text

The Ecruteak Incident

You guys can thank @thecoordinatorsquad for this one. Sequel/Prequel to ‘enter stage left’

Words: 3,658 FFN | AO3

When May arrives in Ecruteak City, the sun is still high in the sky. It’s a nice change from many of the later arrivals she’s been having since travelling on her own. Without Ash’s drive to reach the next city and the next gym as fast as possible, May has found herself distracted by training, relaxing and wildlife between towns and she often arrives just as night is falling.

It’s just after noon as she sets foot on the cobblestone streets that are a tribute to the older days. She notes, with interest, that many of the buildings are constructed in older, more traditional styles and with more muted colour palettes. The guidebook that she carries on hand tells her that it is out of respect for the Bell Tower that stands just to the north of the city.

Her first impression of the city is quaint: it’s smaller and less bustling than many of the other cities she’s visited in Johto so far, but it is definitely more pedestrian friendly. There are definitely still a fair share of coordinators and contest fans mulling about with the contest being two days away. The cobblestone streets are obviously not meant for cars, and the small market kiosks lining the streets further encourage walking over driving.

To the north, May observes the old Bell Tower rising on the horizon and she makes a mental note to visit it. Following her map towards the Pokémon Centre, she walks past the city’s gym. The building is like the rest of the city, painted in muted colours, but there are cheers from within and May smiles. Sometimes she misses watching Gym Battles. Ash certainly had a flair for making them interesting. Max was leaving in September, so maybe she should make some time to watch a few of his battles.

There are large maple trees on several street corners with their big green leaves open to the sky. It reminds her of Petalburg and the tree that’s on the corner near the gym. This part of the city, May knows, will be exceptionally beautiful in the fall when the leaves change colour and start to fall. She hopes she’ll have the opportunity to return for it, but her carefully planned schedule–Drew’s idea, not hers–says that this contest in Ecruteak is the only one for the season. The city wasn’t much for pageantry–much more about tradition.

She spots the crowd about a block from the PokéCentre and her heart sinks in her chest. It’s a group of, mostly, young teenage girls, some older and some younger than herself. None of the girls in particular are familiar, but the hunches of their backs and the high pitched giggles are all too familiar.

Fangirls.

Of course there are fangirls here. There is a contest in two days and there are some higher-profile coordinators entering. Plus, this is one of the larger cities in the region so the increased population of fans also makes sense. May walks hesitantly towards the Centre, just hoping not to get mauled by excited girls.

To her surprise, they don’t seem to pay her any attention as she approaches. They are much more interested in whoever is inside the Pokémon Centre as displayed by the way they keep glancing in the windows and giggling. Unfortunately, their crowd extends to block the front entrance which means May will have to wade right through them.

She takes a deep breath to steel her nerves and pushes through the first few, excusing herself politely. “Excuse me, just need to pass by,” she murmurs, trying to move unseen.

She gets almost to the door when one fan turns and stares her directly in the face. “Hey!” the girl exclaims, “What right do you have moving us from our view?”

May sighs. “Sorry, I was just trying to get into the Pokémon Centre. I need to register for the contest.”

“Register?” another girl pipes up, sounding scandalized. “You can’t compete! You can’t be given the opportunity to win.”

May frowns. “Well, that’s not how coordinating works. The best coordinator in the contest will win the ribbon.”

The first girl put her hands on her hips and gives May a condescending once-over. “Well that’s obviously not going to be you, so maybe you should just run along.”

May’s anger bubbles up. No one gets to talk to her like that, except maybe Drew, but he’s always teasing when he does. Before she can burst with frustration, one of the other girls stumbles away from the window, squealing dramatically.

The doors to the Pokémon Centre slide open and all the girls fall completely silent, staring in awe at the person who emerges from inside. May just exhales in relief. Out of all the people, he’s probably not a bad one to save her from this situation, even if he’ll never let her live it down again.

Drew looks puzzled by the situation, but he walks out towards May anyways. The girls part like the sea for him and he stands next to his rival, glancing at the girl who had been giving May spite.

“Maple, you made it before dark for once. I guess I can call off that search party,” he jokes. His tone is easygoing and relaxed. He seems to be completely ignoring the fans and is instead focused on May.

Smugness curls in her belly as May smiles at him. “Haha, Drew. I know you didn’t beat me here by much. You were coming from Blackthorn, weren’t you? I was only in Violet City, my journey was much shorter.”

He shrugs. “I still beat you here, and I’m all registered for the contest. You should do the same. We don’t want a repeat of the Len Town Contest do we?”

May frowned. She didn’t need reminding of her first blunder of the season. She had forgotten how busy the first contest of the season was and had arrived too late to register, leaving Drew with only Solidad as an obstacle for the ribbon. He had won and he still wouldn’t let her live it down, even as they planned an appropriate route through the region, determining at which contests they would butt heads.

“I’m getting there,” she says after a brief pause.

He laughs and just gestures back to the door. “Come on then.”

May steps towards Drew, and freedom from the swarm of fangirls, when one pipes up. “But, Mr. Drew! How can you encourage competition?”

Drew frowns at the girls. “I’ve asked you all already to leave me alone, I don’t want to get Officer Jenny involved. May is my rival, and my friend and none of you bear that distinction, so you should all scram before I report you for harassment.”

It takes a minute, but the gravity of his words sinks in and the girls start to leave, but not without glancing back at him as they go. Drew sighs and rubs his temples.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” he says, annoyance still heavy in his voice.

May laughs. “Oh but Drew, you have to tell me more,” she teases. He levels a hard look at her and May laughs again. “I’m only kidding. I find them incredibly annoying as well, don’t worry.”

They walk into the Pokémon Centre as Drew complains about how they’ve been following him around since he arrived in town. May giggles. She has her own set of fans, but none of them are ever as bad as the cult of fangirls that follow her rival around.

May does end up registering for the contest in time, and the morning of, she heads down to the lobby to get breakfast before heading over to the hall. Drew is sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria with an empty plate and a steaming, half-full cup of coffee in front of him. He’s flipping through a newspaper and only looks half-awake.

May’s heart tightens as she watches him. It’s strangely domestic and almost cute. She blushes and shakes off the feeling, heading to gather her own plate of breakfast. After taking a generous helping–she’s hungry, there’s no excuse–she heads back towards where he was sitting. May places her plate down and slides in across from him.

He glances up only briefly to acknowledge her presence. “May,” he greets casually, before returning his attention to the article he’s reading.

She takes a couple bites of her food before curiosity wins out. “What are you reading about?”

He puts the paper down and slides it towards her. She notes the headline: ‘Excitement Continues Around Conclusion of Wallace Cup in Sinnoh’. May smiles. She skims the article briefly. It talks about the contest, the venue, and her and Dawn’s battle in the final. Curiously, she notes the fact that Johto and Hoenn were both bidding for the next Wallace Cup.

“It seems the coordinating world was pretty impressed by your new style out there. Even if you did manage to lose to a rookie,” Drew comments, stealing his newspaper back.

May rolls her eyes. “Dawn was good. And besides, her mom was a Top Coordinator before either of our times so she’s grown up around it. I almost won the Violet City Contest after I got back anyway. My slump is over, we both know that.”

Drew shrugs. “We’ll see today, I guess.”

May sticks her tongue out at her rival, who shares a rare smile at her childish action, and tucks back into her food. The whole situation is friendly and calm even though in a couple of hours they could be going head to head for what would be both of their fourth ribbons. Despite May’s apparent slump, Drew was equal to her in ribbons, though May conceded that he had entered far fewer contests and was spending more time on individual training.

Still, getting a foot up on him would be a welcome change since he always seemed to be one step ahead of her.

As the appeal scores are revealed, May takes one of Drew’s telling characteristics and spins it back on him. She smirks at him. She’s in first, and he’s close behind her, only 0.3 points back, in second place. They’re both comfortably through to the battle round, but May’s ahead this time.

It feels good, especially since May knows that Drew’s appeals and combinations are generally his strongest points, whereas hers lay more in powerful battling, something she had picked up from Ash. Still, Drew was notoriously good at spinning people’s power back on themselves to earn massive points, and he was also incredibly strong.

The bracket is revealed and to May’s surprise, she and Drew are not opposite each other. In fact, if they both win their first battles, they’ll be facing off in the semi-finals. She casts him a surprised glance and he shrugs in return. May laughs. She’s still going to beat him–that’s her plan.

As they take the stage for the battles, cheers spring up around them, but Drew’s cheering section is loud and very female. Drew smirks and flicks his hair. The crowd screams in appreciation and May smothers a snort. At least his fangirls will get to enjoy his showboating for a little while.

The announcers call for them to choose their Pokémon, and May watches as Drew calls out Flygon. The Dragon Type is one of his strongest, and May knows there is no going easy here with him. Still, she has an advantage in this case.

“Glaceon! Take the stage!” She spins elegantly and tosses the capsule containing the Fresh Snow Pokémon outwards.

Drew visibly blanches at the sight of her new team member. Though he’d been encouraging of May when she had gone to Sinnoh, she knows that now he’s realizing that Glaceon places her at a significant type advantage over many of his Pokémon, especially Flygon. May lifts her chin confidently.

The timer starts, and Drew wins first move.

As far as contest battles go, besides her stint in the Wallace Cup, her battle against Drew has been the fiercest she’s fought in Johto. He always has tricky combinations ready to counter, even if she pushes forwards with strength. Still, this time, she had been better. Glaceon has squeaked her through to the finals and May is elated.

There are despondent cries from the crowd: Drew’s devastated fangirls and May glances at her rival again. He returns Flygon and nods to her, conceding defeat respectfully. She was better today, and they both know it.

In the end, May makes a blunder, choosing Beautifly in the finals to match up against a Quilava. With both a speed and type disadvantage, she puts up a fight, but in the end, a Johtoan coordinator named Crystal eventually wins the Ecruteak Ribbon. She’s not overly disappointed.

She can use the battle with Crystal to create new defensive combinations, especially against moves like Aerial Ace and Swift that never miss. Plus, she reminds herself, she beat Drew. That’s always a plus.

May calls back Beautifly and heads backstage. The locker room has cleared out, as expected and May gathers her stuff. It will be a few more minutes before people start leaving as Crystal will still need to be presented with her ribbon. May doesn’t see a reason to stick around. She’s kind of hungry again and is interested in trying out some of the street food she’d seen over the last couple days. A treat sounds nice, for both her and her Pokémon.

She slings her bag up onto her shoulder and exits the room, heading for the main entrance. She only gets a little ways before she notices that Drew is striding towards her with purpose. She blinks at him, but he looks frustrated.

“Drew?” she questions, but he ignores her, basically grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around.

They walk at a brisk speed past the locker room, back towards the stage. Drew doesn’t say anything, but relief breaks into his face as he spots a janitor’s closet off to the side. He yanks open the door and herds May inside without breaking stride. The door shuts behind him and May gives her rival an incredulous look.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

“Shh,” he hushes her urgently.

The closet is dark, but not overly small so they each have personal space. May still has no idea what has gotten into Drew, but she tries to study him in the dim light. He looks frustrated, but she doesn’t think it’s from the contest. This annoyance stems from other causes.

Many of her silent questions are quickly answered as she hears footsteps pound through the hallway. She raises an eyebrow at Drew and he just lets out a long sigh.

“I know he went this way. And if we can’t find him, then we can surely give a piece of our mind to that girl who beat him,” a snarky voice exclaims.

May blinks. It’s the voice of the girl from outside the PokéCentre a couple days ago. Drew had been escaping from his fangirls and he’d managed to save her some hassle too by hiding her as well since it seems they blamed him for his loss in the contest.

“What’s the point?” another girl complains. “He lost. He’s probably not sticking around. There’s no point in us being here if he isn’t.”

A few other girls agree, and to May’s delight and Drew’s relief, the girls relent in their search. To be safe, they give it almost a minute of silence outside the closet before they emerge and scan the hallways, ensuring their safety.

When they know they’re not going to be hassled, May bursts out laughing. “Wow, they’re even worse about your losses than you are.”

Drew runs a hand through his hair. “It’s annoying. Don’t laugh at me, if this was you, you’d be the same.”

May shrugs. “It’s not me though, so I get to laugh. I did beat you today,” she reminds.

Drew rolls his eyes. “You still lost.”

May sticks out her tongue. “I beat you though, so it’s fine.”

Drew starts to walk towards the entrance to the contest hall, pausing briefly to let May catch up to him. They walk side-by-side towards the entrance. They’re almost to open air when Drew hesitates.

“There’s a festival tonight, for several reasons, mostly Johto culture stuff, but I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” he asks carefully. “There will be lots of food, if you were wondering.”

May smiles brightly. “Sounds like fun! I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven?” she asks.

Drew nods. “Seven.”

“Did we lose them?” May asks, gasping for breath. She tugs at the hemline of her dress and scans the crowd around them.

Drew scowls bitterly. “For now, anyway,” he mutters.

May sighs. Everything had been going great. The festival was brightly lit compared the usual muted nature of Ecruteak City. There were sparklers and fireworks and dancers in the streets. Lanterns were hung from storefronts and homes and music twinkled through the whole town. The usual market stalls were bustling with life and energy and true to recommendation, the food had been incredibly excellent.

They had been in the middle of enjoying a demonstration by the Kimono Girls, something that was surely inspiring combinations for both of them, when the disruption had started. A couple people had begun whispering around them, assessing them as competitors from the contest that had happened earlier.

Both Hoenn Coordinators had tried to ignore it, but it quickly escalated as Drew’s fangirls began to appear. Drew had grabbed May by the hand and pulled her away, down an alley as they ran to try to escape the crowd. They had used the bustle of the festival to hide their escape, but still, it wouldn’t be long until they were found again.

“We really can’t catch a break with these girls, can we?” May grumbles.

Drew laughs and she glances at him. Under the moonlight and the light of the lanterns, his hair and eyes are almost glowing. Plus, she catches the shadows of dimples in his cheeks from his natural smile and May’s stomach twists. He looks gorgeous and she’s paralyzed by her realization.

He’s wearing dressy clothes–just as she is wearing a nice dress–for the occasion and he looks very sharp. She inhales quickly and tears her eyes from her rival. She can’t find him attractive. They are rivals. Sure, they’re mostly friends too, but he’s her rival first. Competition over attraction, she tries to will herself to believe.

“I am both really sorry, and really not, because that was honestly kind of fun,” Drew admits. He smooths out his already perfect hair. “Well, I’d imagine that we have a couple minutes before they figure out where we’ve gone, so let’s keep exploring, shall we?”

He offers her his arm and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s smiling and sliding her elbow into his.

They stroll out onto a main street again and May is quickly distracted by a cute vendor’s stall with several adorable accessories for sale. She drags Drew over and spends a little while chatting with the owner and browsing the wares. She steals a glance back at Drew, and he’s already watching her and she blushes.

“I saw green hair go this way!” someone yells.

Both coordinators flinch. May glances around, but she can’t pinpoint where the fan was, so she looks at Drew desperately. He looks a little pained and May lets out a short huff of air. She grabs a hat from the table of wares in front of them, apologises to the store owner and drags Drew towards another nearby gap between buildings.

She shoves the hat on his head to hide his hair and spins his back to the street so they are facing each other, and are much to close for May’s sanity. She feels heat rush to her cheeks as she makes eye contact with a startled Drew. There are more cries from the street of people that have seen Drew, and May is desperate.

She places a hand on either side of Drew’s face and pulls it down towards her. He’s startled, but he doesn’t resist as she brings him into a chaste kiss. For a brief moment, there is nothing, just their lips awkwardly pressed together as they pray no one recognizes them. But then there is a gentle pressure against her mouth and May almost jumps.

She kissed Drew, but now he’s actually kissing her.

She manages to kick her brain awake enough to kiss him back for a few seconds before he breaks away, breathing deeply. His green eyes are illuminated by the lantern over her head and the hat looks stupid on him, but he’s incredibly beautiful and he’s looking at her with a mix of surprise and pleasure on his face.

May blinks, breaking their staring contest and they both note that the fangirls have moved on and they’re alone. She slowly peels her hands from Drew, feeling heat swarm into her face. He’s a little flushed himself, but May drops her eyes to the ground quickly.

He coughs awkwardly and she lets her eyes drift up warily. He’s smiling, despite his best efforts, and he steps back from her a little. “Let’s just agree to,” he trails off carefully.

May laughs and it comes out rattled and nervous. “Never talk about this again?”

He laughs too. “Sounds good.”

May catches Drew’s eyes drifting to her lips one last time before he steps further away from her. A vibrant firework explodes over Drew’s head and May giggles one last time.

It’s a fitting night, she thinks to herself. But, they’re never going to talk about this ever–EVER–again.

#contestshipping #fic #pokemon fic #the writing section #enter stage left #contestshipping fic #the ecruteak incident

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terezisexbuttpyrope · 7 years

Text

rescue

Clandest

“What do you mean we still don’t have a transport?” Shiro almost yelled. It had been a week and a half since Sarah had escaped Haggar’s clutches, and they still hadn’t gotten any further in their plan to rescue her.

“Watch your tone when speaking to the High General.” Ulrich hissed. Shiro glared at the Galra and the latter was about to reprimand him further but Arkh raised her hand, quieting him.

“We can forgive him this time, Ulrich, it is perfectly understandable. I deeply apologise for the delay. Selena herself has gone to secure us a Galran transport. We will have one soon and then you shall be well on your way to rescuing your wife.” she assured him calmly.

Shiro wanted to snap at her, tell her that apologies and assurances weren’t enough, that he had told Sarah he was coming for her soon and had been made a liar by the delay....but he knew better and bit his tongue. “Thank you,” he managed, barely keeping his voice steady. Ulrich’s eyes narrowed but Arkh nodded, accepting it.

“I suggest you return to your castle and get your team ready. Ulrich will join you as soon as Selena is back with the transport.”

“Shiro, hey,” Kayla said when he and Allura returned to the castle. She had arrived a few days prior and was just as anxious to reach Sarah as he was. “Do you think you’ll have room for me? I wanna go. I know you said it’d be dangerous and I should probably stay behind with the others, but-”

“I know,” he said, smiling gently. “I understand. You can come. Just be careful, I think Sarah would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch.”

The trio laughed as they entered the control room where Florence, Coran, and Pidge stood circled around a hologram of the planet. “Shiro, good,” his mother said, pulling him into a hug. “Run us through the general plan again?”

“Right. Allura, Ulrich, Keith, I’ntayn, Kayla, and I will sneak into Clandest using the transport Arkh assures me is on its way,” His tone turned somewhat bitter and he cleared his throat before he continued. “We’ll be connected to the castle over comms the entire time, Pidge managed to fit the castle with a randomised transmitter. Once in, I’ntayn will boost my connection with Sarah and we’ll get as close as we can in the transport. We’ll likely have to park and hide it and set out on foot, if it comes to that it’ll be me, Allura, and Keith-”

“What-hey,” Kayla interjected, frowning. “I thought you said I could come.”

“Yea, but when we’re on the ground-I just need you to stay with Ulrich and I’ntayn, okay? Please?” he pleaded, hoping she’d understand. He wouldn’t be able to focus on keeping her safe while also seeking out Sarah.

Kayla pouted slightly, looking so much like her sister his heart ached. “Fine.” she mumbled.

He smiled encouragingly before continuing. “Throughout all this I’ll need all hands on deck here, keeping an eye on the planet and incoming and outgoing communications. The High Generals said they’d supply a convoy for us, in case things get really hairy. We won’t be able to tell if the Galra become aware of our presence or not on the ground, so we’re relying on you all here.”

“How are you getting out?” Florence asked.

“If all goes smoothly, the same way we got in.”

“And if it doesn’t go smoothly?” She raised a skeptical brow at her son.

“We’ll figure it out.” he said confidently.

“Shiro....” she sighed, exasperated. “I know you desperately want to get to your wife, but you can’t just run blindly into hostile territory without some sort of backup extraction plan.”

“It’s been a week and a half, mom. I promised Sarah we’d come for her soon, and it’s been a week and a half.” he emphasised, pleading with her to understand. It was agonising, not being able to rush to her side and rescue her from the Galra planet. But he forced himself to be smart about it.

Florence was about to say something but was interrupted when the castle was hailed by Selena.

“Got the transport! We’re coming in now.”

“Excellent!” Shiro said eagerly. “Let’s get ready to go. We leave as soon as its here.”

“So far so good.” Allura muttered over comms as she and Ulrich guided the transport. They had smoothly entered the steady stream of traffic entering Clandest air space and were waiting their turn to go through customs and be allowed into the city. Shiro, I’ntayn, Keith, and Kayla sat in the main storage compartment, waiting with bated breath as Allura and Ulrich gave them little updates and made comments on what they observed. Pidge had managed to equip the transport with a blocker that would prevent customs from detecting the stowaways, but they stayed quiet and still just in case. “We’re next for the scanners.” Allura warned. Shiro tensed and it seemed everyone was holding their breath. A few seconds later they heard a hum encircle the transport, before they moved again. “We made it past.” Ulrich announced.

The four in the storage compartment breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Okay.” he began, turning to I’ntayn as she joined him to meditate on the floor. “Let’s narrow our search.”

"She’s close by!” Shiro said eagerly. “A few levels down I think. Allura?”

“On it. There’s few large alleys that are deserted. I can only land on the top-most level.” she answered and he felt the transport tilt as it made its descent.

“We’ll make do.”

Shiro and Keith stood as the transport came to a stop, departing down the back hatch as Allura lowered it and waited for them outside. “Okay, we’re all connected right?” she asked, looking between the four in the back of the transport. She nodded after they confirmed their comms were linked.

“And we have your visuals here.” I’ntayn said, showing them the handheld holoscreen she had that streamed what their specialty contacts saw in real-time.

“Okay. Let’s get going.” Shiro said, leading the way as the back hatch closed.

“This looks to be a market district, lots of shops and bustling crowds.” Allura said as she pulled up the local information on the portable holoscreen on her wrist. The three exited the alley and easily slipped into the stream of foot traffic. “You said she was a few levels down?”

“Yea. Not too many. What’s the fastest way down?”

“Looks like an elevator or something up ahead.” Keith noted.

Several clear, glass-looking cylinders sat in a row, each seemingly extending far below to connect to each level. The crowd surrounding them was large but smoothly dispersed into lines that moved quickly. The three were four levels down five minutes later and regrouped on the steps of a closed up shop. “Okay, lead the way Shiro.” Allura said with a nod.

He returned the nod and was about to set off when he saw a flash off movement across the chasm. Frowning he began moving quickly through the crowd, trying to see if he could find the source or if it was merely his imagination.

“Is that...?”

“Sarah!” Shiro gasped, breaking off into a run. The other two were quick to follow him. “She’s running from someone, we need to cross.”

“There’s a pedestrian bridge up ahead!” Allura called.

Upon reaching it Shiro slipped through the crowds, losing Keith and Allura for a moment, but he was solely focused on reaching his wife. He wasn’t far behind her now, but could now see who it was she was running from: a Galra, but not a Galra soldier. He urged himself to run faster; if he could catch up to the Galra he could take him out and then reach Sarah without fear of pursuit. To his surprise, the Galra abruptly dove into a dark shop, leaving Shiro’s path to Sarah clear. He felt in his gut that something was up, but Sarah was right there in front of him. His legs were longer and he could more easily catch up to her.

“Hey, where’d the Galra go?” Allura panted as she and Keith caught up with him.

“I don’t know, he ducked into a dark shop on the side. Let’s just try to reach Sarah and figure out where he went later.” Shiro said.

Sarah glanced briefly behind her before taking a sharp turn. When the trio reached it, they found themselves in a deserted alley, with no trace of Sarah. “Where’d she go?” Keith asked as they ventured further.

“Shiro?” a small voice asked from behind them.

Sure enough, her husband turned around and she ran up to him, leaping into his arms as he caught her and held her close. “I missed you s-so much!” she cried.

“I did, too, princess,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t fast enough-”

Sarah cut him off with a kiss, and the two lost themselves for a moment.

“Uh, as touching as this is...do you know where the Galra went that was chasing you?” Allura asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” Sarah panted. “But we should definitely get moving. You’re timing couldn’t be more perfect-Haggar and merry band of Druids arrived earlier today. And of course she got someone looking for me, and was very close to sending them directly to where I was.”

“Right. Let’s get Ulrich to come to us with the transport, and let’s get back to the top level.” Shiro said firmly. He took her hand and they set off. It was easy to find an elevator back up, but the streets and alleys they passed were too narrow or crowded for the transport to drop down to get them.

“Here, some of these alleys open up to wider alleys behind all the stores and stuff.” Sarah said, leading them down one of the narrow alleys. Sarah was so happy to be near Shiro again, so elated, all she wanted to do was hug him and cry and hold him in her arms. But she was still being pursued, so there was no time for that.

They turned a corner and the narrow alley opened up to a mostly empty street. Allura was on comms and was talking frantically. Sarah felt hopeful, as it seemed they were almost out of the woods.

Almost.

“Fuck, get DOWN!” Shiro yelled, launching himself at her and shielding her from the sudden explosion with his body.

She blacked out. When she next came to, her ears were ringing, and the world was blurry. As everything came back into focus, she saw Shiro, motionless a few feet away. “No!” she cried, lurching to her feet and stumbling over to him. “Shiro, please...” she whimpered, fighting a pounding headache as she knelt next to him. She cradled his face in her hands, tears spilling down her cheek. “Shiro, don’t do this to me....please, come back to me, come back, Shiro....” She rested her forehead against his, concentrating, finding his energy and digging deeper. She wanted to draw out his Altean magic to heal him, she hoped to god it worked....

He gasped, his eyes flying open and darting around until he found hers. “I’ll always come back to you...” he murmured, smiling. She helped him to his feet and, unable to restrain herself, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, deeply, passionately, losing herself in him. He reciprocated, his arms wrapped around her middle, trying to hold her as close as possible and then even closer. “God, I missed you so much.” he whispered breathlessly.

“I did, too. I’m never letting go of you again.”

“Nor will I. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where did that come from?” Allura asked, coughing from the smoke.

“Up there...” Keith said, his tone hollow and frightened.

The four turned to look up and saw three small Galra fighters suspended in the air above them. Sarah clung to Shiro, chilling fear dripping down her spine. “Haggar’s in there,” she whispered, terrified.

“I’m not going to let her lay a finger on you. Allura, where’s Ulrich?” Shiro said, his arms tightening around his wife.

“He’s almost here,” she said, glaring up at the Galra crafts. “I told him to stay invisible.”

Suddenly, Haggar flickered into existence in the alley before them, two Druids following suit and flanking her. “How did you escape, witch?” she spat.

“I don’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” Sarah hissed, though her voice trembled slightly.

The Dark Witch snarled. “It matters not. I will have you again. You are weakened, I can feel it. You won’t be able to resist this time.” The four whirled around as three more Druids appeared behind them, surrounding them.

Allura and Keith backed up until their backs were against Shiro as he held Sarah close, encircling her protectively. She felt herself trembling, not sure how they were going to escape. Sarah buried her face against Shiro’s chest as she started to cry, terrified of being dragged back into the dark place and certain that it was going to happen. Haggar was right: she had been weakened by her escape and hadn’t had enough time to recuperate. She knew that if she was forced back into the darkness now, that would be the end of her.

A sudden, large explosion somewhere in the city nearby shook them all to their knees. A thick column of black smoke rose from the distance. More explosions followed, and as the black smoke accumulated against the artificial sky shield that kept people trapped on the planet, the shield flickered and started to break apart. Pieces of the shield began to fall, and the congregation could hear civilians screaming in the distance.

Before anyone had time to recover, a Galra transport materialised above them, the back hatch in the process of opening. To Sarah’s surprise her sister was standing at the opening, her eyes connecting with Sarah’s as two twilight creatures flew out and attacked the Druids and Haggar. As they were distracted, that gave the four an opening to board, assisted by I’ntayn who was lowering a harness attached to a rope. Shiro secured the harness around Sarah’s thin waist as Allura and Keith grabbed two of the attached handles. Shiro grabbed a third and then all four were hoisted up and into the transport. Allura quickly disengaged and disappeared inside the transport while Kayla and I’ntayn ushered Sarah to safety and Keith and Shiro covered them with blaster rifles they had procured from god knows where.

This all happened so fast Sarah hardly had time to process anything before the hatch was closed and they were airborne. She looked around in a daze as her companions sat around her. Kayla was talking to her, relief evident on her face, but Sarah had a hard time bringing her mind to the present so she could focus.

“Princess, are you okay?” Shiro asked, very close to her, slipping an arm around her middle. She turned and found his face watching her intently, concerned, only a few inches from hers.

“Yea...yea....there was just a lot that happened all at once...” she said slowly, coming to the present. “Sorry, Kayla, what were you saying?”

“I was just saying how happy I am that you’re okay and back with us! Soon as we’re out of this planet and back in the castle I’m gonna call Krisox and mom and dad.”

“Oh....yea. Where is Krisox?”

“He...ah.....”

“Nitro stole many large shipments and cargo from the sovereigns who are aiding us.” I’ntayn answered for her. “He thought it best not to join us, I believe the High Generals have a warrant for his arrest and they aren’t exactly lenient when it comes to punishing criminals.”

“Oh...” Sarah said, blinking. “I guess I’m...not surprised....” It was easy to forget sometimes that he led the universe’s largest crime syndicate. She leaned her head against Shiro’s shoulder, smiling softly as he kissed the top of her head.

Suddenly a nearby explosion rocked the transport. “Allura? What-?!”

“I think there’s a rebellion, civilians are attacking Galra and firing rockets at the shield’s stabilisers.” The transport swerved, causing those in the back to frantically grab at handholds. “We’ve been lucky so far, but things are getting more and more out of control.”

“Can you find us an exit point?”

“Ulrich just found one, we’re going for it now.”

Sarah clung to Shiro as the transport swerved again and he held her tight with one hand, his other grasping the handhold.

The ride out was bumpy and rough and frightening as explosions rocked the air around them. But then things became smooth and Allura came back on over the comms. “We’re out! Heading for the castle now.”

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. The recent traumatic events were behind her now, and she was back where she belonged, in her loving husband’s arms.

#my post #shirah

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steviesings · 7 years

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Sleepover: Coming back to Seattle, Stevie has a new man. But after a night with Lyla, all that changes.

Lyla: Marco was not a subtle man. "Hold the phone," he began as he watched Lyla packing a bag. "You and the blonde, sorry, your ex, no I mean Stevie, are going CAMPING together?" Lyla rolled her eyes but nodded. "By yourselves?! No offense but that's like, the least straight thing I've ever heard." Lyla stopped, growled at the man on her bed and spoke, "well, I'm a lesbian. So it should be as not-straight as it can get." She could see why Marco would tease but it still stung a bit, especially because she knew her own selfish wishes for the trip and how they shouldn't and wouldn't happen. "Have you even camped before? Do you know what a real forest smells like? Can you navigate a compass?" He asked jokingly causing Lyla to pick up a shirt she had been folding and whip it in his direction. "We're going to a site, you asshole. It's not like we'll be in the backwoods where we could die and never be found." Marco chuckled and leaned back to have a sip of his coffee he had brought them that morning. "I'm surprised you're even going. You don't seem like the camping type." It had also occurred to Lyla how out of character it had been to agree to a camping trip of all things, but she wanted to try new things and she told Stevie things were different. If that meant camping and it just being the two of them, she'd take it. "I'm open," she said as she finished zipping up the duffle bag she was borrowing from Marco. "Something is open... I don't think it's just your mind." This comment made Lyla jump on the bed and pound into Marco with her pillow. They laughed hysterically for another minute before Lyla released her Vulcan grip and rested against the headboard. "She's with someone. It's really not like that." Marco nodded in agreement but his eyes said otherwise. "She's the only other person who's ever been my friend here besides you, I'm not going to screw that up." He couldn't disagree there. While even Marco knew that Lyla was still in love with Stevie, he also knew that Lyla was a good person and she'd hold as tight to her new convictions as she could.

It wouldn't be long before Stevie arrived and took them out to the forrest so Marco and Lyla said their goodbyes as he helped bring her things down to the landing of her apartment building. "You sure I shouldn't stay to keep guard of your stuff?" He asked, crossing his arms in a knowing "dad" way. "She texted and said she'd be here in like three minutes. I can manage till then." Marco leaned in to hug the tiny girl and then took his time walking down the street. "Just in case," he had yelled back which caused Lyla to giggle. Stevie wasn't far behind, her mom's car making a somewhat noisy approach. The smile on her face made Lyla's light up as well. "I know I should have tried for one bag," she began as she swung the first into the backseat. "But I think two for me is a record!" She laughed with Stevie as she got into the front seat as fast as possible. "Confession time: I've never been camping." Lyla turned to the blonde, both nervous and excited, she didn't want to look like an idiot. "But it'll be fun. Where exactly are we going?" She asked as she took a look at Stevie's GPS on her phone. "Wow! I don't think I've been this far outside of Seattle." Finally she quieted down, taking in the sights of nature as the drove farther outside of the city. "It's nice your mom let you have the car. You'll have to thank her for me." Without Stevie's mom's car, they might have had to Uber to the woods and that seemed a bit silly, or they might not have been able to go at all. As more green became visible, Lyla become entranced with how scenic the landscape was. It was only when Stevie asked her to change the music selection that she realized she had zoned out. "How's the promo going, by the way? I know Seattle's a big help in distributing music on the west coast." She blushed at her own insight, "I read that somewhere. A while ago. It makes sense, though."

Stevie: Stevie didn't exactly know what possessed her to ask Lyla to go camping, but she had a feeling it wasn't her brightest move. Lucas, not that Stevie blamed him, seemed shocked and almost worried by the situation. It was one thing, Stevie understood, to talk about things and clear the air as she and Lyla had done all night earlier in the week, this, though, was different. It was a shift Stevie had caused between her and Lucas, and she hated herself for it. He acted nonchalant, but she could tell he wanted her to just drop it and not go, but he didn't want to be that guy who didn't trust his girlfriend, but he knew better than most that what Stevie had with the girl was special. He was, after all, the one producing her EP - there was hardly a detail he didn't know about his girlfriend and her ex lover. She didn't tell Symone. She could already hear the girl now, telling her she was a stupid cow and she was falling down the rabbit hole back into Lyla's world - and it was true, Stevie had felt that pull in Lyla's apartment and the love that had hardly died.

Piling a tent and two sleeping bags into the car - none folded into their little travel bags, but basically strewn about the trunk of her mom's beat up bug that looked like it seen better days, she tossed her duffle bag on top of the mess and kissed Lucas hard, reminding him that no matter what, she loved and would always choose him. "It'll be a few days, more than enough time to go to Portland and be back," she smiled at him. "You sure this will make it up the mountains?" He asked skeptically, and Stevie glanced at the car in agreement, but brushed off the concern, "It'll be fine! We're going to a local campsite, so all we have to worry is getting ourselves up the mountain," she said. He still frowned at the car, but she could tell that was hardly bothering him, "I love you, Stevie." A pang of guilt hit her and she looked away, "I love you, too. Good luck with Bryce! You're going to kill this promotion." He looked at her and sighed, forcing a grin. "And have fun camping." With your ex held unspoken in the air between them, but the bitterness settled like it had been said and Stevie nodded, getting in. The engine groaned to life, like a sleeping bear post hibernation and with a bang from the exhaust, it moved noisily. Turning up the radio, she nervously drove through Seattle. She always hated driving through the city, as did her mom, which is why they owned such a piece of junk. It was easier to take the bus than stress about crazy pedestrians with a death wish.

With more exhaust and hasty slams on the brakes later, the car crawled pathetically in front of Lyla's apartment and Stevie got out, smiling at the girl as she helped her lug two heavy bags and but one on top of a beat up sleeping bag and the other in the backseat beside the cooler that had minimal food (mostly s'mores and snacks, knowing neither of them would actually cook anything with fast food close by) and laughed, "Oh god, that shatters that illusion. All these years I thought you were basically Steve Irwin, why would you lead me to believe you love nature so much when you freak out over bugs?" Stevie teased. The radio blasted music, the stop and go of city life finally ended after an hour and then they were in the suburbs heading towards nature when the music was turned down. She nodded at Lyla, "We used to come when I was a kid. I haven't been up this way since my Girl Scout days, and besides, my mother used this car as much as I do. She hates driving when the metro is just as good - this is kind of like an emergency, like hospital or vacation use." As the car chugged it's way along, Stevie nearly laughed at Lucas's possible reaction to seeing the old rusted sack of bolts move and then felt guilty, only to be doubled at Lyla's question. "It's going good," she said. "He's promoting me and a few others, a weird indie band and a guy who sings about cats and a girl named Suzanne, sadly I'm the best of the bunch, not to sound like I'm rooting my own horn. He and his friend are new, decided to breakout on their own, so the pickings get slim at first - I think." Stevie had been lucky in meeting Lucas. It was like everything in the universe lined up just right so they could meet. He'd missed his bus and was trapped at a bar until his friend could come get him, and she'd been performing by chance after her normal spot overbooked and chose the other girl over her. She remembered him talking and then she came to their studio, or what he called it, anyway. It was a sound booth in his and Terrance's basement, which did seem shady to her, but she'd always been one for risks. And then they'd gone on their date and suddenly, life had fell into place and she'd had everything she ever wanted and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she was risking it for this. "Yeah, Seattle is great for the whole music thing, ironically. LA is too big to get big, if you can believe it," she said.

Lyla: Lyla laughed at the other musical prospects that Stevie's boyfriend was promoting. Not because she was being petty or mean, it was just that Stevie's description was a funny picture in her head. "Poor guy," she mentioned before thinking about how difficult his job really was. "But also? I haven't listened to a lot of artists and you're already ten times better than them in my opinion. So toot that horn." Lyla wasn't lying either. She had always been nervous to listen to Stevie for the fear that she wouldn't be good and then there would have to be the awkward lying about it, but there was never a need. Stevie had it and it was the typical IT. She was herself, authentic, and it showed and shined like the sun. "Do you have a single out right now? Or is it all still private?" Lyla asked, turning in the car seat to make herself a little more comfortable. "I feel like I would have heard it if it's been on the radio."

Another thirty minutes passed, idle talks happening in between any good song that they actually thought was worth listening to in the quiet. Finally, they had made it to the campground and while Washington was beautiful, the place they were going to be spending their time, was a bit lack-luster. "I see they didn't spruce up the place for us," Lyla joked as Stevie picked a spot for them and parked the car. Instantly Lyla began to pull things from the trunk and backseat, wanting to show that a.) her past princess persona was basically gone and b.) how much excitement and appreciation she had for being invited in the first place. Exes didn't hang out all the time or go on trips with each other often and she knew that it was special.

It was mid-afternoon and while it was actually hot for Seattle and the surrounding areas, there was still enough of a breeze to feel chill if you needed a cool down. Lyla had pulled out their tent and began reading the instructions, before catching Stevie having a chuckle at her obvious expense. "Hey!" She started before picking up one of the pegs from the tent bag. "This is my first time here, I'm just trying to be thorough!" Laughter filled their general area as Lyla twirled the peg towards the blonde. "You'll be grateful for my great architectural insight when we're relaxing in a sturdy tent tonight." It didn't pass Lyla that she actually had no engineering background whatsoever, which she knew that Stevie knew too, but she kept the skit going anyway. "If you'd like to help, I would not be opposed, though." She placed her hands on her hips after putting together most of the actual tent structure, waiting for the other girl to either make a sarcastic comment or jump in, or, in the case of knowing Stevie, probably both.

Stevie: Stevie shook her head. "EPs never get radio, which is why he's pressing for this. If we get this he'd take off, and I'd be right beside him." She laughed, waving her hand, "I know it sounds like a pipe dream, but it's the first time I've been so close." Stevie always KNEW what she wanted. Even when she was a little girl and held her first guitar, she just knew. It was hard to explain to people that feeling. The knowing. People think you're being stupid and childish when you say that you want to do something that isn't "productive", as if having a passion meant less. Stevie knew though, and she bet her mom knew, too. The name wasn't a coincidence. "We have it on Spotify. It's gotten some traction, and we want to film a music video - I don't have a lot of notability. People want to sign to YouTubers and social media famous people because they know they have a following, people like me, we're a risk and some people don't want to take the chance."

She shifted uncomfortably as her and Lyla sat in silence, the indie band the only noise between them. She kept thinking of the situation and the look on Lucas's face, and it made her feel so guilty. Exes didn't camp, or befriend each other. What ex relationship ever had a successful friendship? This whole situation was delusional, but she didn't want to admit it. Arguing with herself, she reminded her nerves that she had Lyla were indeed friends. They'd talked, the whole thing was water under the bridge, and they'd moved on. Stevie had a boyfriend, Lyla worked at a bar and was accepting herself with a therapist, and life was good. In her naive little Stevie world, nothing could go wrong.

Stevie had noticed Lyla did change in ways. Before, Lyla had been way too city to camp, and while Stevie had also grown up in a bustling city, she'd always been one with nature. Lyla, though, was trying, and Stevie could tell it was from a place of genuine change. Snorting, Stevie yanked out the tent and tossed it on the ground along with the two tattered sleeping bags and shrugged, "It's the woods, not the Hilton - or whatever hotel," she teased. Watching as Lyla found instructions somewhere deep in the tent, glad that her and her mom had kept something even if surprising. "More like I'm surprised that thing has that. It's so old. I think my mother bought it in '95. And I have two tarps, just in case." She felt sort of bad for the quality of everything, but at the same time, didn't waste her brain on it. At the end of the day, Stevie and Cloud had always survived, but without tenants, they'd never make ends meet. Even now in LA, Stevie and Symone struggled. Neither made good money - even though Symone had a job that should, it was a fact: people paid you shit, but everything was expensive.

Laying down the tarp, she had the tent set over and got to work. "My mom and I used to camp every other week in the summer. We couldn't afford trips, or anything, so we'd come up here and camp." Stevie didn't even need the instructions. This tent was second nature to her and she all put booted Lyla aside to set it up, and once they were done, tarp thrown on and all incase of rain, she stood up and brushed herself off. "Do you wanna eat something then hike? There's a place to swim up along some hiking path, we can rent a float and go tubing or something," she suggested to Lyla.

Lyla: Lyla was entirely new to the outdoor world. In fact, she felt so much so like a fish out of water that her insecurities were popping up as Stevie mentioned food and swimming after finishing the tent with ease. She could tell that the blonde was sensing the mood switch too, like the tides of the ocean from the moon - and Lyla couldn't help it. "Mhm," she mumbled while going into their cooler and bags of food. It was hard to not know anything about anything for Lyla, she was always smart book-wise; and so, when real life happened and she felt inadequate, things got harder. She breathed and relaxed as they made some sandwiches and talked a bit more about Stevie's music and Lyla's new job. "So I guess the only way I can hear it is through you then," she joked, knowing that Stevie probably would say no to that. "Don't think I won't have you playing something tonight. These woods need your melodies. Or at least some Fleetwood, Stevie Knicks ones." A fact that Lyla had never brought up and wouldn't was how after their break-up, all she could listen to was Fleetwood Mac. She had cried and dreamed of Stevie while she listened to every album in existence that they had. It was a tie to her that both helped let her go and also place an even more special place in Lyla's heart.

"So this swimming and floating aspect?" Her words were a question, unsure of how enjoyable it would be. "We'll be in a lake, right? We're not near the ocean anymore?" They had driven near the beach at times which is what had caused her to question where they'd be going next. The pacific northwest ocean hadn't been her favorite. It was colder, darker and more rough than her east coast Massachusetts ocean was. 'How significant,' she thought to herself. As they began to make their way there, Lyla reiterated her ability to try new things. "I'll do whatever you want. I trust you." She looked up into the trees and wondered if they might be able to have some picture taking time, because the forrest around them was beautiful. Lyla needed more than just memories of this. Finally the reached a small cove which had exactly what Lyla had hoped for: a decent-sized lake with a decent amount of people having fun both in and around it. So again, her tensions eased and as she looked over to Stevie, the sun was hitting them in such a way that felt like a happy kind of fate. Was it a sign? Probably not, and Lyla didn't like thinking that way anymore, but it was nice to imagine for a moment. "Okay, boss. Lead the way." She said smiling as she followed behind Stevie up more of the path to where they would rent a float or two. Excitement was reemerging and it was definitely showing on her face. Lyla would be like a school girl getting to see Stevie in most of her glory again, though she definitely would keep that in check so no weirdness would slip between them again; But she was happy. The day was warm, the sun was actually out, and she was with a friend, the best friend she could have asked for, especially when being totally outside of her element.

Stevie: Stevie nodded, though felt uncomfortable at the idea of Lyla hearing her music. It wasn't that Stevie painted Lyla in a bad light, it was just... emotional. Her songs had been about love and magic, finding peace, struggling - she had at least a hundred rough drafts of songs about her time with Lyla and other various things, but the eleven songs she had out were about being a bisexual girl and Lyla. Each song was an emotional ride, and she didn't want Lyla in that world. She didn't want her to feel guilty when she'd come so far. "Who knows, maybe after the short tour we do I'll be famous," she said with a shrug. In truth, Stevie didn't know what the future held. She knew she was touring to a few places over the country and had a good following, but as for fame? Who even knew. Stevie laughed, "You know me, I'm always ready for The Queen. I can play some of my oldies, don't worry." Then she paused, "You know, I don't remember playing you a lot of Stevie... or Fleetwood." It struck her as odd, because she'd told Lyla some stories, but nothing really major. Lucas, however, knew everything from her namesake, to how her mother played Rhiannon so much that she was so close to naming her first and only daughter after the witch herself, but instead, in a twist of fate, had decided on Stevie Nichole, to honor her favorite musician and the only thing that kept her through those months of solitude when she'd been alone and pregnant with her daughter. "But we can change that tonight," she vowed.

"You've never gone tubing?" Stevie asked in shock, as if forgetting who Lyla was. Of course Lyla had never been tubing. She wasn't Symone, she'd been rich and her parents had probably been too good for camping. "So you start at the top and go down a stream and float. It's fun. Peaceful, actually. It's like a real life lazy river, and at the end, you're at this lake and it's breathtaking." Grabbing Lyla's hand she said, "Trust me. You'll love it!" When they got to the top, Stevie got two floats and had them separate. Her and Symone once tied theirs together, and got so rowdy that they'd almost drowned each other, and thought maybe that was too intense for Lyla's first go. "Okay, you go first and I'll be behind you, okay?"

Lyla: The water was cold as Lyla stepped into the stream. It was faster moving than she thought it would be and her nervousness correlated to a million goose bumps, though she breathed and inched out a little farther. Slowly she maneuvered the tube behind her and gently sat herself in the center as everyone else had. Stevie was right behind her and thankfully, the two took off down the more legit river together.

In a moment of panic as the flow quickened, she reached out for Stevie's hand. The blonde could probably tell that Lyla was scared and so she smiled. Finally, after a few minutes, the water got slower and they caught up to a few singles, a family and a couple that had seemingly hit the bottom on a shallow side. "Go right," the dad yelled as some other helped to keep steer them past it. Lyla giggled as they kept going, she let her head fall back into the water and relaxed a bit more. "I guess it's a good thing we're so tiny. Finally, it pays off."

Finally, the two women reached the crest that lead out into the huge lake, Lyla couldn't believe how peaceful the entire experience was. As she looked at Stevie, it was like she knew that Stevie was meant for things like this. She was Mother Earth herself and in nature it was beautifully apparent. "This is beautiful," Lyla said for probably the 17th time that day. "I can't believe I never would have come here without you." She bobbed around in the water, using her arms as ore's to push herself back over to Stevie. It hadn't gone over her head that the blonde was being evasive about her music and so Lyla dropped it. Though, she couldn't wait to hear Stevie sing later. It had been too long. The water around them began to fill as more people drifted into the lake, and it warmed Lyla more than she had been in months. "I could stay here till it gets dark." Her voice was borderline chipper as she half joked but was also half telling the truth. She was a water sign after all. "Although food sounds pretty great so that might have to happen too."

Stevie: The water prickled Stevie's skin as she got into the float. Bobbing for a moment, she let go and took off down the stream and tossed her head back in delight. It'd been so long since she'd done this, and she let the river take her away as she bumped and bucked in the seat, her hair partially submerged as she relaxed. In truth, Stevie wished she could live her life as she was in this moment: letting the river take her, no plan, just blind faith that she'd get to the end okay. But she couldn't do that anymore. With her music, it wasn't just her failure, it'd be everything Lucas was relying on to finally launch his career - it was their chance to make it or be fucked. But Stevie wasn't thinking of her music or Lucas, she wasn't concerned with anything until she saw Lyla's hand and she grabbed it, laughing. "Don't be so scared," she said with a smile.

She looked up, seeing the trees and birds and how cloudless the sky was. It was rare for Washington to have a day like this: blue skies, sunshine, and she inhaled. She could hear Symone and her other friends she'd long since left behind laughing, trying to knock one another off, and she could see her mom drifting carelessly, because Cloud always knew things worked out.

As they got dropped off, it was breathtaking. No matter how many times she'd seen it in her life, the view always made her want to weep. "Isn't it? It's one of the most beautiful things we'll ever see." As people poured in, she laughed. "I feel bad never taking you camping, but there was never time, I guess." They'd never had enough time, but that was life: there was never time to do or say everything you needed to, and Lyla and Stevie had been too short lived and too cram packed of hurt and pain. The two never had a chance to make it anywhere.

Stevie nodded in agreement. "I almost want to go again, but I'm kind of hungry. I barely ate anything before leaving," she admitted. Plugging her nose, she fell into the circle and let the cold water submerge her and she looked around before resurfacing and grabbing onto the float, "let's go back to the top and see if where we got these has anything to eat," she suggested.

Lyla: At the suggestion of food, Lyla couldn't agree more. She quickly got out of the water, carried her tube, and began the journey with Stevie close behind. "I know I wasn't the food-bringer, but I've got stuff for s'mores back up at the tent." Her grin was huge knowing that a.) she had actually done something right and b.) Stevie would enjoy it just as much.

Once they reached their destination and returned the floats, they got in line for dinner. As Lyla scanned the menu, she noticed that their options were limited. Suddenly they were at the cashier and it was time to order. "I'll take a hot dog and some fries please. Ketchup for both." She stepped to the side and waited as Stevie ordered, too. "It looks like it might rain." The sky was darkening a bit, but that was mostly from the sun going down though some dark clouds were forming a bit. The blonde would make things positive even if they got a little wet in the process, as she always did. Lyla was determined to keep her spirits up in that case as well.

Finally, the two picked a bench overlooking the river that had enough room for them to put their food down in between them. As they ate, the sky began to change colors even amongst the clouds. "It's so pretty here," Lyla breathed, taking in air through her nose and exhaling loudly as if to let any lingering tension she felt out. "Thanks for inviting me," she began. "I haven't been out of the city like, ever." Lyla's eyes scanned her surroundings as she thought about the last time she had even left the city was for Christmas. "Apparently I need to a bit more." She had finished her hot dog and only had a few more fries left when she mentioned returning to camp before it got too dark. "I trust you to lead us back, but just in case. Wouldn't want us becoming a not as poetic version of Into The Wild." She laughed and helped clean up the area, all the while staring at Stevie more times than she should have. It was just so intoxicating to be so happy and with her again that Lyla was constantly reminding herself to breathe; but eventually, the area was clean, light was leaving and it was time to go. "Plus, the sooner we get back, the sooner we get some music going and that's what'll make this day perfect." She smiled confidently and took off down the trail that the two had come up, walking right beside Stevie as the woods took them in with open arms.

Stevie: Stevie played with her much-too wilted salad as she listened to Lyla ramble on at their table. She paid to much for it, but she didn't feel the need to spare it much thought. Being a vegetarian was hard, and she'd grown sadly accustomed to the lack of choices and shitty salad options, and instead put her chin in her palm, listening to the cute girl across from her. Lyla had always mesmerized Stevie, that much was true. She'd been a regular at the cafe, and Stevie always seemed to have Lady Luck on her side before Lex noticed and let her wait on the petite brunette. It took forever for Stevie to have the nerve to flirt, never able to tell who was into girls and who wasn't, and then, suddenly they were Lyla and Stevie... something.

It was the "something" Stevie hated. She hated casual. She hated flings. She didn't want to be a booty call, or Friends with Benefits, she needed attachments. She needed to be needed. "It is," she agreed, being pulled from her memories and thoughts. Her stomach churned a bit. This was wrong... She should tell Lyla they should go back to the city and - "This was my favorite place to be as a kid," she confided, ignoring the voices. They were adults. She could handle it. And so could Lyla. "I love the city, y'know? But here - here life is just peaceful. Even my mom seemed to relax." It was true that Cloud, like Stevie, thrived in the chaos. The only difference was Stevie had thrived in her mother's chaos. When she was little, she didn't know things like boarders or haggling or living without luxuries (i.e. The month the dryer AND washer broke and everyone hung clothes around the house and washed in the tub) or didn't have electricity because everyone, like Cloud, could hardly hold down a job being artists, or whatever. Cloud, however, created chaos, and sometimes made mountains out of molehills when the mountains behind her crumbled and she ignored them, because the actual issues worked out in the end. "It's nice to just turn off your brain and take it easy." Then she looked at Lyla, "Did you ever leave the city in Boston? Or did you just always stay there?"

She swallowed. The music... Nodding, she tried to seem impasse, as if the music could be about anyone and shrugged. "If you want. Mostly, I just need proper nourishment," she said as she gestured to the wilted garden salad she'd hardly touched. Her stomach made growls, but mostly for the thought of a charred marshmallow between to graham crackers and oozing chocolate. Licking her lips at the thought, she looked up at the sky. "You don't want to reenact The Wild? Chicken," she teased, but stood up and stretched. Tossing the container in the trash, she walked up the path. "So what did you and your parents do? You know, for fun." She snorted, thinking of her own childhood, "Symone's family used to take me with them on things. I went to Disney one time when I was fourteen, and they got a family plan and on my ticket says Stevie de la Croix and the attendant is looking at me with my pale as hell skin and my blue eyes and my hair was bleached so much I looked like Draco's sister, and Symone and he doesn't know what to say or do because it's clearly not true, and let us through. One of the funniest moments, but god that trip was fun." The de la Croix's had always felt more like her family, it was true, and that always made her feel guilty. She loved her mom, but Symone's parents always felt like hers, too.

When Stevie had worn sneakers, Mrs de la Croix would buy her a new pair, ask free. She always let Stevie spend the night, eat dinner and everything. It was good to have the stability while dealing with the chaos. "We stayed at The Wilderness with her cousins and hung out outside for hours - could even go from the Magic Kingdom by boat so we could stay to close - ALONE. Mostly because Tess, her older cousin, was 19 at the time." She smiled at the memory, and looked at Lyla, realizing how little she knew about the girl in horror. "Did you - I mean did you ever... You know? Did you at least have someone like Symone?" She asked, feeling awkward at her lack of background knowledge of someone she claimed to have loved - did love.

Lyla: The wooded green was enough to totally entrance Lyla as she and Stevie made their way back to camp. Though every few moments, she made sure to listen, especially when it came to details about the blonde. They had known certain things about the other and yet not much at all. She could imagine a young Stevie with Symone thoroughly enjoying herself on any adventure she was lucky enough to be a part of. "That all sounds like the two of you," she replied, convinced that both of them had been the same since they say they met each other. However, as Stevie began to ask about Lyla's past, she wished that she hadn't. "I went plenty of places. My dad would take my mom and I on work trips, we'd go to Martha's Vineyard in the summer for two weeks." Lyla had loved those summer vacations. That was where she had the best time, where she was able to be away from her real life long enough to be happy.

"I've never had a Symone," Lyla admitted honestly. "I made a friend at the vineyard, Olivia, who I still keep in touch with but no one else has ever stuck. I didn't like my school or the people in it much." Darkness was taking over the trees just as they arrived back at their tent and Stevie's car; Lyla was somewhat relieved because being in an unfamiliar wild place wasn't the most comforting feeling. As she and Stevie got out some things for s'mores and managed a fire after about twenty minutes, they sat down beside each other and continued with their conversation. "Marco is the closest person to ever be with me, besides you. Friendship wise," Lyla clarified. "And he's been amazing. He's offered to be my roommate and sperm donor if, and I quote, ever go that direction in wanting a kid or two." Lyla laughed as she remembered the conversation where he had casually mentioned that as if it was offering up his leftover fries. "You'd love him. He's a good time." Her s'more had officially toasted to perfection and Lyla ate it in three less than graceful bites. "God, that was INCREDIBLE!" She was already prepping her next marshmallow before Stevie could even react. "I don't want to eat anything else while we're here!"

As night had officially taken over, the laughter and talking continued just as easily as Lyla remembered it. It was like they were the only two people on the planet, and in the woods, all alone, it seemed that way. In the distance they heard parents arguing, kids laughing, some music and crickets and it made her calm. Washington had been inherently different, better, than Massachusetts since the second Lyla had stepped off the plane two years ago. It grew later much faster than the two girls had thought and by 12:30, Lyla had been stuffed with chocolate, graham crackers and marsh mellows. "I love owls," she noted as one made a noise from the trees above them. "So wise." Lyla smiled at Stevie and noticed that the girl had goosebumps. She quickly got up and grabbed the closest blanket that had been in the tent and tossed it over them as she sat closer. "It's getting too late to stay warm with just our sweaters, don't you think?" It was a tease at Stevie's ability to take care of herself, though Lyla knew that she did just fine. They had a habit of getting so wrapped up in each other that they forgot that life still required functioning. They sat quietly for a few minutes, taking in the night around them as the fire warmed their legs. "If you're not too tired, can I ask a deeper question?" Lyla waited for Stevie's reply, not wanting to overstep. "Could I maybe meet your mom someday? I regret having not." Her voice was quieter, both because she felt sensitive about her mess ups but also to keep the woodland creatures asleep. "Obviously if we don't keep in touch after you leave... But I'd like to and I'd like to see who produced you. Because you're something." The way Lyla placed emphasis on the word 'something', she worried Stevie might read something other than what she meant; But at the same time, there was a level of Lyla that didn't care if she did.

Stevie: Stevie nodded. Not much had changed between she and Symone, they just grew into their own. Symone had always been a logical Virgo, and Stevie had always been an overemotional Pisces, and they'd balanced one another out. "Martha's Vineyard sounds nice," she offered with a grin, but frowned. Had Lyla always been so alone? It made Stevie feel bad because she'd known that, but hoped otherwise. Lyla had been private and Stevie had been open. Lyla had known most of Stevie's friends when they'd be around the city - they'd come up and hug her or talk to her, and Stevie would introduce Lyla and they'd all go about their merry way. Lyla liked secrets.

"He sounds great," Stevie agreed. "I'd love to meet him before I go home!" She looked at her marshmallow roasting, "You should meet Lucas. Especially after this. He's a good guy, sweet. And he could probably give you a run for your money at trivial pursuit." The silence grew a bit between them as the sunset and Stevie got out her guitar, strumming a few cords before tuning it. "So you've never gotten into Fleetwood Mac, well dear, you've come to the right place." Stevie laughed at the goofiness as she tested out the notes and cleared her throat, "This is one of my favorite songs - or as my mother calls it, my almost name. It was really between this, Stevie Nichole, Sara and Bella Donna... But this is the best song ever!" Clearing her throat again, she began to play Rhiannon for Lyla, and as the song faded out she played Leather and Lace. Setting her guitar down, she ignored the tears that wanted to brew in her eyes as she realized she hadn't heard Leather and Lace since the breakup months ago. It had always reminded her of Lyla, despite the obvious heterosexual nature of the song. It was Lyla to her. She loved Lyla, and knew the moment they met it was never going to end. Some people had that vibe when you met them: that they were going to change your life forever and stay inside your mind. Making another smore, she nestled under the blanket Lyla had supplied, laughing at her owl comment. "Well they are the nerds of the forrest, like you," she said sticking out her tongue. Curling her hands around the blanket, Stevie let a few tears fall and she nodded. "Of course. Yes. Yes you can meet her." She felt touched Lyla still wanted to know her mom, that she, too, regretted all that they missed out on. She didn't mean to, and she was caught up in the moment as she looked at the girl, her face soft from the fire light and it was pent up for months and it was romantic and perfect, Stevie leaned in and kissed Lyla softly on the lips.

It was like an instinct as she cupped the girl's cheek, deepening the kiss. It tasted like smores, and it was sticky from the marshmallow and suddenly her eyes snapped open and she jumped up. "Oh god!" Looking around, she shoved her hands in the faded pink strands, tugging at them. "Oh fuck!" Crying a bit, she wiped her eyes. "Shit! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have - I just!" Not even waiting, she walked over to the car and grabbed the stash that was usually under the shit in the glove box and grabbed her key ring that had the small pipe her mom had once given her as a joke. Taking it off, she filled it and grabbed the lighter. "We're going to pretend it didn't happen. It couldn't have, and I'm sorry! I just got so fucking caught up - I'm sorry!" Taking a hit, she offered some to Lyla.

Lyla: Between their closeness, Stevie's tears, and the quiet around them, Lyla was doing her best to say underwhelmed though she was failing. Listening to Stevie sing had always been something that melted Lyla completely and this was no different. The tears that finally came made Lyla's want to pour but she kept them in check, only letting a few fall as Stevie finished, gave the okay that Lyla could meet her mother, and talking to her about Lucas who sounded the best for Stevie in every way; and even though she had already met him and knew that something did in fact seem off, she simply nodded and let the moment pass.

It wasn't until the she noticed how close in proximity that they were, that Lyla could see something changing in Stevie as they sat together. As their lips connected, she could barely breathe. She imagined something like this since the night they broke up. The most tender touch that would heal them, maybe. It was soft and delicate, just like their feelings and Lyla wanted it to last for ten years longer than it had.

As Stevie began to freak out, Lyla shrank into herself a bit until she came back from the car, lit bowel in hand. "You don't have to be sorry to me," Lyla said calmly as she watched the blonde frantically moving about. "I'M sorry that I put you in this position." She was so afraid of everything then that she wanted to die. She should have said her piece at the bar that night and let that be that. Instead, Lyla had roped Stevie back in - be it a genuine desire to be around her again, but she shouldn't have. The other woman had moved on and was better without her and now she complicated everything yet again. She let Stevie smoke, turning away the offer to join her, and kept racking her brain of the right thing to say. Whatever Stevie wanted was obviously what they would do. Lyla's inabilities had ruined them last time and she wouldn't do it again. This would be different, even if it broke her heart.

It had been quiet for a long time before Lyla said anything else. "It didn't happen," she reiterated without looking over at Stevie. "And after this trip, I'm going to leave you alone. I didn't mean for this to happen..." She felt more tears choking her. Lyla didn't want separation. Lyla didn't want a life without Stevie but it was her fault that it was like that in the first place. "I'm so so-sorry, Stevie. I ruined everything and now nothing is the way it should be and I'm a horrible person." Her tears were no longer manageable as she cried into the blanket, the feeling of nausea overwhelming her. "You're always so good and kind and fucking perfect and I missed you so much that the second you were around I had to have all of you." Her eyes stayed on Stevie's as the two cried. Lyla reached out and held onto her hands for dear life. "We can go home right now if you want. Whatever you want is what's going to happen, okay? Nothing else is going to be bad for you, I promise. Please just tell me what you want and I'll do it."

Stevie: Lyla was right about that, Stevie could agree. She was sorry, because she knew feelings had to linger between them, but she also had to be sorry for Luke. God, Luke! She couldn't even imagine seeing him after that. What would she even say to him? "Hey, Luke, remember that trip you didn't want me to take with my ex girlfriend and I said we were mature adults who could handle it? Well, I lied, babe. We kissed. And by we, I mean I kissed her." God, she was stupid! So fucking stupid and so fucking screwed, she couldn't even see her ass from her face. Looking at Lyla, Stevie knew the look she tossed her was one of a deranged rabid person as Lyla rambled on and on how it was her fault. How could it be? Stevie agreed. She looked this man, the perfect man - the one she had wanted to be with - and said she could do this and fucked up! She knew she couldn't handle it, but she couldn't hurt Lyla's feelings again, not after everything. "Are you fucking kidding me!? I'm the reason we're here! I fucked up! God, I fucking hate myself! I fucking ruin everything and I don't know what's wrong with me!"

She doubted smoking would help her, but fuck she needed something. She needed a plan... she needed a time machine, a minute alone. She wanted to be like Lyla or Symone - they were neat, organized. Stevie had always been impulsive, it was something she'd gotten from Cloud. Cloud lived in the chaos, and Stevie lived with her. She did what she wanted, even though she always hated the consequences. No one could ever be as stupid as her. Wasn't she just saying to Symone a week ago Luke was the one? He was perfect, and she wanted to marry him, get this music out there and maybe have a family... She had seen it so perfectly, and what had she done? Tossed it away in a moment of weakness. "Perfect," Stevie mocked hollowly. Perfect, she fucking wished. "I'm not perfect. I ruined it with you before it even began, and we know it, Lyla." She was vulnerable, upset and her voice shook as she marched on, unable to stop. "I'm so unlovable, that even when I find love I muck it up. How the hell can I face him after this? Lie. Even telling him the truth," her lip quivered and she cried as Lyla took her hand.

Stevie knew she should yank it back. She couldn't be trusted with this, not with Lyla. In truth, Stevie knew Lyla had been the one. Anyone else was settling, but she'd wanted to settle for Luke. She wanted to feel loved, be in love, have the perfect life with him - but she'd wanted all those things with Lyla first, and she'd been rejected and it hurt. Still hurt. "I don't know," Stevie said shakily. She couldn't leave, not without a plan. "I - I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't go home, not yet. I can't tell him tonight... I - I'm being a coward, b-but I don't care! I just need a second to just figure it out. I have to tell him, but -" She whacked the log she was sitting on, feeling the sting of her hand, yelping but ignoring it all together as she looked into the fire. "I don't want to regret anything with you Lyla... even this. It feels like I'm spitting on us, but he's - I love him. I really fucking love him!"

Lyla: It was hard for Lyla to see Stevie so upset, yet again, partially because of her. She could barely keep track of Stevie's mind as the blonde went on and on about her mistakes. "Stevie," she said firmly, trying her best to bring the other woman back to her side instead of in her head. The wilderness around them lived on. Crickets chirped, the waters kept flowing and owls and the other animals roamed. "Breathe with me." Lyla wasn't used to being put together anymore. After Stevie had left, everything had fallen apart. She hadn't been the same ever since and it had been a hard pill to swallow. "In through your nose," she nodded as the blonde did what she said. "Out through your mouth."

After a few minutes of quiet, Lyla couldn't tell what she should do. Ever since Stevie had kissed her, that's what she had wanted to do more of; but she knew better and so she should BE better.

"Just tell him I came onto you. He doesn't need to know that you kissed me so much as we kissed, right?" Lyla knew Stevie's moral code was going to disagree but the facts would still be true and told. "You want him to know this happened but you don't want to lose him, so don't." Her mouth became dry as she spoke. It hurt. Stevie kissing her. Stevie's pain from kissing her. Stevie still wanting to be with Lucas. There wasn't a right answer or solution. "But Stevie, you didn't ruin anything. Not us and not you and Lucas."

Lyla got up from their bench and began to move around the camp, trying to fix herself and the problem at hand. But it all came back to feeling Stevie. Her lips, her hands, the way they melted together even in the split second they touched. It was like nothing had changed, and what did that mean? Lyla knew she'd never be over Stevie but was Stevie really as in love as she said? Or was she doing the same thing Lyla was trying to do: act like things had changed in their hearts when they really hadn't. There was no way of knowing what Stevie really felt and Lyla wouldn't be the one to assume and make an ass of herself or upset Stevie enough that she never saw her again. Though, with the way Stevie was talking, that might happen anyway.

While she was turned away, Lyla searched herself for something to say. She had given up her family for who she was, that would never be a factor again. She was closed off from everyone when she was with Stevie because of her fear and now that she didn't have that anymore, would it make a difference? Her gut said yes but Stevie's tears for someone else kept her quiet.

Finally, she spoke. "This isn't the right thing to say. I should stay on the path of making it better for you and Lucas. I know it." Lyla turned to face Stevie through their dimming fire. "But what I want to tell you is that I love you and so whatever you want, that's what I want. I can disappear after this weekend so that I'm not a problem anymore." Her eyes filled with tears, though she kept them on Stevie. "But I need you to know that since you kissed me, it's all I can think about. I miss you. I missed feeling you both that way and your fucking spirit." She stopped herself, shaking her head because she felt like such an idiot. "All I want is to spend the night with you. Talking. Kissing. Touching like we used to because I miss you and us and I'm sorry that I let fear get in the way of us last time but it wouldn't be there anymore." Lyla paused and moved closer between Stevie and the their tent. "I know this is horrible to put on you. To say. So just tell me to fuck off if you want, but I needed you to know it. At least one more time."

Stevie: Stevie felt her stomach churn as Lyla gave her a way out. It'd be so easy to just take it. To accept it and go run to Luke tomorrow, crying about how Lyla kissed her and she didn't mean to let her, it just happened. Luke would understand; he always understood, and Stevie could see it now: the way his face would drop, how he'd blame Lyla for taking advantage of Stevie's kindness and how he'd let it go. They'd go back to LA and he'd be none the wiser, and they'd carry on as they did before, happy as clams. Sure, the guilt would kill Stevie inside, but she'd truck on and be an even better girlfriend than before, and maybe one day, somewhere down the road, Luke would propose and she'd say yes, and they'd get married have some kids and he'd never know that this night Stevie kissed Lyla. That Stevie still, to this very day, loved Lyla. Everything they would have after this night if she told Luke this lie would be forever marred by it. He'd be so unaware that every kiss, every fuck, every moment would circle back to one tiny kiss with Lyla in the woods. She shook her head, letting the images shatter of a possible future. She didn't want to think of Luke forgiving her, because she knew he would. He knew Stevie loved Lyla, and would probably always love Lyla - he was her fucking producer. He'd gambled on her in every way shape. She was what he was banking on as a start of his record business, he was hoping she was the one, and what did she do? Spat at him.

She felt awful for thinking it, but it was true: Lyla had hurt her. Lyla wanted to be permanent, but Stevie didn't know she could gamble with her heart again. It took a lot of patience and love from Luke to get to a point of loving him - anyone. It killed her, and she looked at Lyla, falling into the kiss, cursing herself. "Lyla," she said as she pressed her hand against the girl, pushing her away. She wanted to - she wanted to give in, never tell Luke what happened and live a lie, but she couldn't. She wouldn't do that to him, not after everything. "I - I love you. You know I love you. I didn't even get love till we met, and you know that, but... I do love him. It was hard being out there, getting over you and moving on. You hurt me, and I know you didn't mean to, but it killed me to know you could give someone everything and be let down, and then I happened into a person at the right time and I began that feeling again. It'll never be as strong as us, but I owe him more than this!" It killed her to deny Lyla, and it killed her to know that if she went back to Luke she'd be living a lie. Crying, she looked at Lyla, seeing everything and nothing. If they did this, they'd be ruined, too. Stevie cared, all she'd done was care, but looking at Lyla, all she felt was want. She wanted Lyla to love her, to make her feel loved, and Lyla wanted that from Stevie and cupping her face she pressed her forehead to Lyla's forehead. "I can't hurt him. I'm sorry. I just... I can't."

Lyla: Lyla let her tears fall, breathing in deeply as she listened to Stevie say what she knew was true: She loved him and she couldn't hurt him any more than she already had with their kiss. She understood it and deep down, there was a part of Lyla that was lighting because at least she got to hear that Stevie still loved her. As much as she wanted things to be different, Stevie was making it so that if anything ever did happen again, it could be more pure than if they completely betrayed Luke in the process. After what felt like an hour, Lyla pulled away from the blonde and held her hands. "I'm sorry that this happened," she admitted. "Not because we didn't need this." Her voice trailed off for a moment, thinking about how she knew Stevie deserved better than what they had left off at. "But I didn't mean to put us in this situation." They listened to the world around them, the early morning hours arriving quickly like they always did with them. "You're too good, Stevie. You really are. We made a mistake but, those can be fixed." Her eyes looked in Stevie's blue ones, the desperate need to hug her overcoming Lyla like a wave. "I think what we need now is sleep. This night has been... too much." She smiled and laughed lightly, realizing that the last few times they had been together were also too much in terms of emotions. As they climbed into the tent and got ready for bed, Lyla couldn't help but stare as Stevie changed and Stevie did the same. It was going to be torture until the day they died. Which honestly, Lyla wished would have been sooner if it meant not aching so much. Once the two were in their sleeping bags, snuggled closely to stay warm even though it wasn't horribly cold by any means, Lyla reached for Stevie's hand. "Thank you for taking me camping. It's been fun but I think I'll stick mostly to the indoors," she giggled. "I hope we don't get eaten by any bears but if we do, I'm glad to go out with you." Lyla closed her eyes and listened for Stevie's response before falling asleep to the peaceful sounds of an ending summer.

#p: 004;;

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