#and terrible sunlight conditions in spots they can’t reach

[sternbagel]

chanting “do not waste all your play money from your paycheck on soil and pots for your plants; you just repotted most of them” to myself over and over in the hopes that I actually listen to myself come Friday

[btsmakesmehappy]

Sweet Scent | 3

Genre: Agent au. Colleague au. Mutual pining. fluff. Angst. Light smut.

Pairing: Agent!Jungkook x Forensic Doctor!reader

Word Count: 7,3

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: little spoiler for the next story. Mention of guns. Kissing-make out without consent. JK is drunk-kisser boi. But not too descriptive.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | completed

Summary: Why does he always look so nervous in front of you? Is it because of your excessive flirting? But how come you don’t tease him when he looks so incredibly cute every time he blushes? 

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: Thankyou @arizonapoppy​ to beta-read mine! I love you. And to you all who reading this story, I am very grateful. Also I’ll be more grateful if you send me asks about how you think about this story. I know, this is taking too long to write, but I enjoyed it!

“Come on! Just show me!” you begged.

“I told you right? That’s impossible to use that gun at such a far distance,” the female agent said with hands on her hips. She looked relaxed in this firing range, even though it smelled terrible, sweat mixed with gunpowder, in contrast with you who kept scrunching your nose.

You pouted. “Just do it. It’s an order,” you said sternly, but still, your eyes kept avoiding her eyes and you kept fiddling the hem of your shirt nervously. You cleared your throat when you met her gaze. “Please?” 

The female agent laughed at your quirk, which she found it cute. “That’s why those male agents all fell for you.”

You tilted your head, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing. Fine, I’ll show you.” The female agent put her earmuffs and took a gun on the desk, then walked to the firing line. She positioned herself and aimed at the dummy. “Close your ears.”

With that instruction, you brought your fingers to your ears, closing them as tightly as you could. Your mouth gawked as she did it so beautifully, hitting the target easily.

Your amazement was interrupted by a sudden bulky man behind you.

“Wow, you are always this good, aren’t you?”

The female agent removed her earmuffs and walked to him. “Hey Kook, what are you doing here?”

Kook, the man in question, beamed a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the same time. “I want to help you; also I want to see you shooting. Can you teach me again?”

She giggled at the younger man, ruffling his hair. “You don’t need me, you do it just fine!”

“Noona- come on!” he whined as he tried to sneak his head away from her hand.

You couldn’t help but smile at that sight. You couldn’t believe what you saw. He was bulky, wrapped in a leather jacket, why did he sound so adorable?

“Fine, let’s see how well you shoot then.”

His eyes changed suddenly when he was behind those firearms. Your heart raced, and not because of the sound of the firearms blazing on your ears. This man was somehow captivating. You couldn’t help looking at him. And when he stopped shooting, you walked closer to him.

“Hey!” you yelled as the effect of the firing sounds still ringing in your ears. “What’s your name?”

The man turned his body to face you, his face turned red, and aghast. You felt confused in the way he reacted, but still, you found him adorable.

“Jung-Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” he stuttered.

Jeon Jungkook, the name fell on your lips.

It just somehow felt right.

“Are you sure you want to work? It’s gonna be hard for you to type anything.” Jungkook faces you, his eyebrows furrow in worry. You are both in the elevator. After that incident, he decided that you should work on the seventh floor. You’re not gonna complain about it anyway. Since your office was trashed, you can barely stand to work at your desk anymore. Well, it’ll take a good amount of time for you to gladly work at your desk again.

You look at your bandaged hands, slightly clenching them. “Argh,” you cry in pain. Jungkook immediately takes your hands, examining them right there. “I’m kidding,” you say as you poke your tongue out.

He pouts but still holds your hands gently. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re just so cute worrying like that.” You bite your lower lips, trying to hide your smile.

He drops your hands and turns his back to you. “I’m not cute.” He stomps away from the elevator as you follow behind him.

“Please don't be mad at me.” He walks faster since his legs are longer than yours. You begin to speed-walk to match his pace. “Kook, wait for me!” And as you are finally just behind him, you reach his elbow, trying to catch his attention, but the pain starts shooting through your hand. You bite your lips to hide your wince.

You hope that he doesn’t hear you, but not only is he good at fighting, he has sensitive ears too. Jungkook turns back and sighs. He reaches for your hands, stroking them lightly to soothe the pain. “I’m not mad… Just please be careful.” He carefully looks at your hands and his eyes widen when he spots a red spot on the bandages. “It’s still bleeding. Let’s just go to the hospital. I think you need stitches.”

“I don’t need to. The cuts are not deep, really.” You retract your hands from him, but he stops you.

He holds your hands again, not wanting to let you go. “That’s what Jimin said! We need to know what professionals will say about your wound.”

“Kook,” you look at his eyes. “I’m literally a doctor.”

He pouts again. “It doesn’t change anything. We need to go to the hos-”

“I’m fine, Kook. It’s just a little painful sometimes,” you interrupt. “Only because the wounds are still fresh. It’ll be better over time.”

“Really? Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smile. “I’m sure.”

Jungkook sighs and brings your hands to his lips. “Please stop making me worry, I beg you...” he says it softly, not loud enough to make you hear it. When he realizes what he’s done, his cheeks turn red as he drops both of your hands immediately and walks away.

Your heart aches, longing for the lost touch. Longing for the warmth enveloping your hands again.

It is weird how he just does it so easily. Only a few hours ago, he couldn’t even stay with you comfortably in the same place. And now? He just holds you like it is a usual thing for him. It is weird that your heart keeps skipping a beat whenever he touches you. It is weird how he makes hope blooming inside your chest.

You just can’t get used to it yet.

You’re used to being with a shy-Jungkook, and when he drastically changes, a thought begins to circulate in your mind, trying to find some reasonable reasons. 

Maybe he simply feels guilty. There’s no way Jungkook will like you.

“I think we should work in the meeting room. Your stuff is there, right?” He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to come in.

“Ye-yeah.” You stutter as he raises an eyebrow at your sudden silence. Well, to you, he is the weirder one, you should be the one who looks at him quizzically.

You sigh as you sit in the meeting room, opening some of the reports. You shake your head to clear your mind. There’s no time to think about this kind of thing. You worked so hard for this case. Let’s just get it done, and move on. This isn’t some romance novel, for god sakes! Control your mind, Y/N!

You try to ignore Jungkook’s presence beside you by drowning yourself in work. Not only that it’s hard, it’s simply impossible. Just the way he props his chin on his hand, looking at you working, it is too distracting.

“Why do you want to be a forensic doctor?” he asks abruptly.

Your jaw drops as you turn to face him. “What is this? Are you interviewing me now?”

He shrugs. “I am just curious.”

You blink your eyes several times in disbelief. “Because I like it?”

Jungkook snorts. “Other than that.”

You bite your lip, turning silent for a moment. “I’m scared of needles,” you whisper; you feel the heat rush on your cheeks in embarrassment. “Maybe? I don’t really know. I just hate seeing my patients in pain from what I did to them and needles is one of them.”

He nods in understanding, and just as he is about to open his mouth, you interrupt him.

“You really don’t need to fill the silence with some useless conversations, you know.”

He pouts. “Why do you think it’s useless? I want to know more about you.”

You look at him weirdly. “Kook, are you okay? Did you hit yourself in the head? Or did you eat something funny?” Why are you doing this?

He sighs and presses his lips into a line. “You know what, just forget about what I said. Do you need any help?” His eyes fall to your bandaged hands.

You tilt your head in confusion. This is really weird. “I just need to copy some of those reports into the computer. You’re right, it’s kinda hard to type.”

He smiles as he moves your laptop to his side. “Let me type it.”

“Thanks, Kookie.” You said it lightly, but it somehow had an effect on him, like it’s triggering something in him, something that makes him freeze.

His face turns serious as he leans to you, turning your chair to face him and caging you with both of his arms. He is too close to you; his cologne smells cotton-powdery-fresh, sneaking softly through your nostrils.

Like newly folded-laundry.

“With one condition: please stop calling me Kookie,” he whispers closely to your ear, his sweet voice rings your eardrum, sending shivers to your spine.

Your heart races. You’re holding your breath when he moves away from you, only to look you directly in your eyes. Why does he sound like he tries to sound more manly? You clear your throat, hoping it also clears your clouded mind. “Alright, I’ll work on it myself then.” You reach for your laptop, ready to slide it to your side.

“Y/N…” He whines as he holds your arms gently. “Just please stop calling me Kookie.”

You hide your smile again. “Fine, I’ll try.”

Jungkook pouts as he begins to work with your report, with you guiding beside him. He types faster than you; you’re glad actually, since it will finish your job faster.

It’s almost afternoon and the meeting room is hotter than before. The big glass window along the wall is facing directly toward the sun at this hour. Not only does it warm the room, the sunlight also gives you an opportunity to see Jungkook’s face more carefully.

In this natural spotlight you trace his jawline, his soft lips, and his long lashes, and how his curly hair frames his face perfectly. You even see the small scar on his left cheek. It is just insane how he keeps taking your breath away. This man is definitely beautiful.

Noticing the attention on him, he turns his face to meet yours, catching you in action. His cheeks turn reddish as he finally realizes that you’ve been watching him for almost five minutes. “Wh-what?”

“You have a beautiful face, Kook.”

He blinks his eyes several times, confused with the sudden confession. He turns his eyes back to the laptop and laughs awkwardly. “And you just noticed it now?”

You snort. “That’s ridiculous. I knew it since I saw you for the first time. I just want to say it again right now.”

He chokes in his own saliva, coughing repetitively to help him calm his racing heart. “Th-thanks, I guess?”

“Why do you want to be an agent?” you ask, unconcerned that he is still struggling with his breathing. When he looks at you in disbelief, you raise your eyebrow. “You can ask me, but I can’t ask you? Uh-uh. This is a two way street, sir.”

He sighs. “Why do you want to know anyway?”

“We’ve worked together on several cases, but I barely know anything about you except for your name, your job, and until just a few hours ago, your number.” You pout. “I also want to know you better.”

“I was recruited after I won a Taekwondo competition.”

You tilt your head. “Just that? Why this Company anyway? Why not the police, or army?”

“I saw Namjoon-Hyung in the briefing.”

“Ah, you mean that tall clumsy man who has feelings for that female agent?”

Jungkook laughs at your description. “Well, first of all: even if he is that clumsy, he is maybe the most elite agent in this Company. That guy is a genius. And secondly: how do you even know about them?”

You shrug, casually rotating your chair. “Just a hunch. They have the I-want-to-kill-you attitude with I-also-want-to-rip-your-clothes-apart-in-a-sexual-way eyes whenever they’re together. So yeah, it’s not that hard to figure it out.”

His laughs don’t stop as he throws his head back and almost knocks the back of his head in the process. You’ve never heard him laughing this much before, and it is captivating. He brings his hand to wipe tears from his eyes. “Well, they’re dating now.”

You widen your eyes. “What? I thought you can’t date a colleague or another agent in this Company. You know, since the incident with Jin’s wife.”

“Well, there’s actually no rule about it though.” He furrows his eyebrow and looks at you quizzically. “I didn’t know that you know her. It happened before you’re here, right?”

“Yes, she is my senior in med school. So, yeah, I know her. We’re kinda close.” You smile as you look at the window, gazing to the buildings lay in front of you.

He hums and turns his head to where Jin sat before. “Jin-Hyung never talks about you.”

You give a bitter laugh. “Has he ever talked about her for real? Nope. And besides, I think he hates me because of what happened with his wife. Well, that’s not my business.” You turn the chair to face him. “So, do you regret working in this Company?”

Jungkook smiles and turns back to the laptop, typing the report again. “Not at all. I love working here.”

A smile beams on your face too. “I know right? It’s such a pity that I have to leave this Company soon.”

His fingers pause and he turns slowly to you. “Ar-are you leaving?”

“Yeah. My rotation is over soon. Time does fly fast, doesn’t it? It’s just like yesterday was my first day working here.”

Jungkook swallows dryly. “So where will you be working after this?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t chosen yet. Maybe I should try the posting in Australia?” Out of your sight, Jungkook tightens his hands into fists and puts them under the table. “I am gonna miss teasing you, Kook.”

Jungkook rises up from his chair suddenly, eyes facing the window. “I am gonna report to the other agents. You should double-check the report, now I’ve finished it. I’ll be right back.” He walks away from your spots at the conference table and out the door, not even glancing at you once.

You look at the door with confusion. Did I just say something wrong?

Hoseok is puzzled. Why in the world was he stuck with cleaning the trashed office? He even cleans up the problematic cadaver’s heart alone, but not without a lot of yelling and curses leaving his mouth. Yoongi is probably checking the security footage again. Jin is reporting to the higher-ups, Jungkook stays with you. And Jimin and Taehyung? They’re supposed to help him clean the office, only God knows where the hell they are.

He props his chin on the end of his broomhandle. The room is cleaner than before. He laughs bitterly. Well at least there’s no glass shards on the floor and an organ speared on someone’s desk.

His mind wanders to what Jiseok said to him before.

“Did you just think you can stop The Black by locking me here?”

Hoseok shivers. Does it really mean he has an accomplice out there? Sure, Jiseok is manipulative, but Jiseok was serious about what he said.

Hoseok sighs. There has to be something in the hall yesterday, or someone.

"Hyung. What should I do to help?" Jimin pokes his head around the door.

"How's Y/N?" Hoseok points with his elbow to another broom in the corner of the room, which Jimin takes right away.

"She's fine. She's with Jungkook right now." Jimin steps gingerly around the mess and begins sweeping the floor. "They are just so adorable together."

Hoseok laughs and plops in a chair, moving it closer to the desk with his feet. "I know, right? It's just a pity that we can’t see them together."

Jimin stomps over to him and widens his eyes. "What do you mean? Of course they’ll end up together, why wouldn't they?"

Hoseok shrugs. "Jungkook's gonna need a huge push for him to accept his own feelings and tell her. I just can't see it happening."

"Hyung, trust me. He'll tell her his feelings and they’ll date each other. Happy ending."

"Even a man like you gets scared of telling a girl that you like her. How long has it been? Ten years? No, it is longer than that, isn't it?" Hoseok asks Jimin mischievously.

Jimin pouts, a blush forming in his cheeks. "Jungkook's situation is different from mine. Just stop bringing it up! I'm telling you, Jungkook will date her."

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung asks as he casually enters the room.

“Jimin keeps telling me that Jungkook will date Y/N soon.” Hoseok rolls his eyes and tosses his broom to Taehyung.

Taehyung catches it quickly, but just puts it on the corner. He had no intention to clean the room. “Meh, I doubt it. Jungkook doesn’t even realize that he likes her. I’m starting to pity Y/N a bit. Oh let me correct, I’m starting to pity both of them.”

Hoseok laughs loudly. “See? Even Taehyung can’t see it happening.”

Jimin sighs, but he still hasn’t given up yet. He is sure about it. "Wanna bet?"

“You all should go home.”

Everyone in the meeting room looks up from the briefing packets in front of them. Your eyes widen at the sudden announcement from a fifty-something man who just barged into the room. Jimin, who had been cut off mid-sentence by the newcomer, flaps his mouth wordlessly. Why was the newcomer spouting nonsense to you and the other agents?

“But, Mr. Lee…” Jimin pleads.

Lee shoots him another glare. “You’ve done enough. You can go home now.”

You look around the meeting room. All of the agents are avoiding your gaze. No one wants to talk some sense into the man. What is this? You look back at the man in the suit in front of you. “If this is about the threat, I’m fine with it. I’ll still finish the report.”

Lee’s eyes dart to you, he has an intimidating aura coming from him. You can’t help to step backwards a little. “We’ll send Chanyeol and Wendy to the police in a few hours. Since they admitted that they killed Baekho, they’ll be under arrest for murder.”

You gulp and gather all of your courage to open your mouth. “But, Baekho was killed before that. If you give me some time to finish the report…”

“There’ll be no need for that, especially since the victim’s body is destroyed. There’s no evidence.” Lee steps forward to you. “And shouldn’t you work under Sehun’s supervision? Why are you working alone?”

“But…” you want to protest, instead Hoseok’s hand grabs your arm softly, stopping you from saying more. You bite your lips in frustration. This is just so unfair. Lee, the Boss, knows that it’s not the truth, yet he still proceeds with it.

After the Boss leaves the room, the room is still silent. You can see the look in their eyes that they don’t like it a bit, but they simply do nothing. And it only makes you madder.

In fact, you’re disappointed.

You scoff and begin to gather all of your stuff. “This is all just so fucked up.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jin says warily. “The higher-ups thought that it would be better like this.”

You sigh. Holding your stuff in your tiny arms, you exit the meeting room quickly, not bothering to reply to them. You’re so mad at them, mad at the boss, mad at yourself. You’re so mad that you want to cry in despair. This is so unfair.

You push the elevator button quickly and wait for it to arrive. You control your breath, trying to hold back your tears. You don’t want to cry here. You shouldn’t cry here.

You hate it. This is not the reason you chose this field. You should do something, but the fact you can do absolutely nothing is frustrating to you.

Rapid footsteps on the tile sound behind you. “Y/N...” You don’t need to turn around to face him. You know his voice too well, he’s your favorite person in this Company, but you don’t really want to see him right now. “Are you walking home? Let me give you a ride.”

“I can walk by myself,” you hiss. You do know that this is not his fault, he’s just a mere field agent after all, but you’d want him to do the right thing. Or at least, be at your side, not on the side of some man in a suit who’s just barged out of nowhere.

Jungkook sighs. He knows that you’re as stubborn as him, but still he doesn’t want to back away. Somehow, he just can’t leave you alone like this. “Please? You’re too tired anyway.”

Well, he’s not wrong. You barely slept or ate anything since the incident; your body is in pain. Sure, a ride won’t be a bad idea. You’re too tired to fight for your pride. “Fine.” 

As the elevator’s door opens, Jungkook follows you inside the elevator, snatching your reports and laptop from your hands. You are going to stop by your office to get your bag. You hesitate at first, but since your apartment’s keys are in your bag, there’s no other way.

When you arrive at your floor, you gulp. Is this a bad idea? Your heart beats faster and your hands turn clammy. You take a few deep breaths but still you feel afraid. The memory of the trashed office is fresh in your head, making you nauseous, making your hands tremble. Even the floor’s usual silence turns eerie.

Sensing your hesitation, Jungkook grabs your hand softly, guiding you out of the elevator. He walks in front of you with your hand in his. Even when you arrive in your office, he doesn’t let your hand go. His thumb draws soothing circles over your bandaged skin, slowly and carefully. No word escapes from his lips, no verbal reassurance.

Just his touch.

His warmth.

Only when both of you stop by your desk, he releases your hand. Jungkook packs your laptop in your bag quickly and slings it over his shoulder, then tidies the other reports on your desk. “Is this all?” 

You nod weakly and he takes your hand again in his. The two of you leave  your office as quietly as you entered.

His hand still holds yours when you’re back in the elevator, going down to the carpark in the basement. The only thing you can hear is your own breathing, as it quickens with your troubled mind. You’re too busy concentrating on yourself, you can’t see how Jungkook looks at you with worry. How his hand tightens every time you take a deep breath.

He finally lets go of your hand when you sit in his car, putting on your seatbelt carefully, like you’re just a little frail kid, like a fragile glass in a high table, sitting on the corner.

The car ride is also silent and feels longer than your usual car ride, well, taxi ride. You don’t have a car, so you go to work by bus or sometimes you walk, if you need exercise. There’s just a handful of occasions when you’ve been too tired to walk or take a bus, and you’d take a taxi. It’s more expensive, of course, and if you take a taxi any more often than that, your residency salary won’t leave you with a lot of money.

Again, you don’t notice how Jungkook keeps stealing glances at you, too busy with your own thoughts. You don’t notice how his fingers flutter as if to reach your hand sitting on your thigh, too busy looking at the window.

And just like that, you arrive outside your apartment.

Jungkook unbuckles your seatbelt quickly and exits the car to run around to your side. With your laptop bag on his hand, he hesitantly starts to give it to you, but then he rethinks and takes it back again. “Let me bring it to your door.”

The energy in your body is draining, you don’t bother to protest again. You just walk to the building with Jungkook tails after you. And after two flights of stairs, you arrive in front of your door, sending a tired smile to him. “Thank you, Kook.”

Jungkook sighs and scratches his neck, nervously he opens his mouth, “I’m sorry again, Y/N.”

Taking the bag from him, you shake your head. “That’s fine. You should go.”

“You need plenty of rest. I’ve already asked Sehun to give you some days off.” Just when you want to protest again, he interrupts. “It’s an order. Please, just rest.”

Sighing, you rummage your bag to find your keys. “Okay. Thank you, Kook. Have a safe trip back.”

And just like that you leave him alone in front of your door. Jungkook is frozen on the other side of your closed front door, looking at your apartment. He clenches his fist tightly until his knuckles turn white. Your tired face, your passion for your work-- he just can’t get them out of his mind.

His stomach wrenches. Not only has he brought you into danger, and got you hurt physically, now he’s worried that he’s hurt you emotionally.

He sees it in your eyes, how disappointed you are in him, in the other agents. How sad you are that you can’t do anything. How weak and useless you feel when you walk back to your apartment.

It somehow hurts him too. He doesn’t know why his heart keeps aching today, how it aches harder when he sees you, how it aches again right now. He can hear your sobbing even from outside and it makes his heart drop to the ground.

Jungkook raises his hand to knock on your door, but before he does it, he pulls it back to his side. He turns his back to your door and walks away, thinking that you may need alone time.

But that thought simply vanishes as he sits in his car. It’s his own car that he bought with his savings, his car that he cherishes the most, his car that he always washes every three days even when he is tired, but now, his own car smells like you.

And it just makes him miss you even more.

It’s Monday.

Your phone ran out of juice last night and it had been dead all night. It gave you an opportunity to sleep better without disturbance, but still you can’t feel refreshed no matter how long you sleep. It just annoys you, even though you slept right away after you cried your eyes out last night.

There’s a lot of ringing after you plug your phone into the power socket. 

Sehun 8 new message(s), 17 missed call(s)

Sejeong 2 new message(s)

Jungkook 1 new message

You automatically sit up on your bed, scrolling through the message to look at the message from Jungkook. A tiny part inside your heart wants to check Jungkook’s message first, but there’s also a part inside that is still mad at him. So you decide to check on Sehun’s messages since it can be about work anyway.

Sehun 10.29 pm: Yah. are you okay?

Sehun 10.30 pm: JK told me about what happened. I’m sorry.

Sehun 11.12 pm: Please call me back T_T

Sehun 11.53 pm: why are you ignoring my calls? T_T are you mad at me? T_T

Sehun 00.43 am: are you sleeping?

Sehun 01.03 am: fine. Also you don’t need to come for today.

Sehun 01.05 am:  you should take some days off.

Sehun 01.05 am: just please call me whenever you read this.

 Sejeong 00.13 am: Unnie! T_T Sehun told me what happened. I hope you’re doing okay. I am so thankful for what you did for us. Let’s have dinner sometime T_T

Sejeong 00.29 am: Also please answer his calls, he’s worried. I’m also worried T_T

You smile at your phone. You’ve always known that he is a sweet guy, but why is Sehun so overreacting? Not to mention his girlfriend who you’ve only met twice, Sejeong, the sweetest girl, is also doing the same thing as her boyfriend. Right after you first met her, you just clicked so much with Sejeong. She’s like a little sister to you. And you’re glad they found each other. At least, you still have both of them on your side.

The smile on your face falls when you accidentally open the message from Jungkook.

Jungkook 07.27 am: I hung some food on your door. Heat it up first. -JK

You raise an eyebrow and walk to the door. Your jaw drops as you find a paper bag on the handle. You take it and set it on the counter in your kitchen, opening it slowly to find a bowl of Gukbap.

It’s weird how it sends a warm feeling in your heart. Still, you can’t shake a thought of why’d he do it. Guilty? 

You pour the bowl into a pot and put it on the stove. You walk back to your room to call Sehun while you’re waiting for the food to heat it up.

It only takes two rings for him to answer, “Y/N?”

“Hey. where are you?”

Sehun sighs. “I am at the Company. The office looks so bad still, I can’t imagine what you saw yesterday.”

You scoff. “Don’t you even try to imagine it.”

“Anyway, are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I am fine. I got a few cuts on my hands, but that’s fine.”

You hear rummaging from the other end. “Wait, turn your video on. I need to see your wounds.”

You sigh and you turn your phone call into a video call. “Is this even necessary? There,” you say as you point the camera to one of your hands.

“Fuck, a few cuts my ass. They’re all over your hands!!”

You turn it back to voice call. “They’re not deep. It’s fine! Talk to you later. Thanks for the day off.”

You hang up on him before he says anything else and head to the kitchen, getting the warm food from the stove. There’s no need for you to put it into another bowl. It’s easier and more efficient that way, by any means, fewer dishes to wash. The only thing that you have to be cautious about is that you could get burned. But still, eating from a pot has a different feel to it.

You take a big spoonful of the gukbap and blow on it, making it less hot, and eat it slowly. This is what you love about gukbap, how it is easy to eat and digest. And just when it goes straight to your stomach, the warmth fills you right away.

The warmth is familiar.

You sigh. Why is Jungkook doing this? 

Your reverie is broken by a ring from your room, indicating a message. You lay your spoon on the table and walk back to the room. When you spot the phone, you look at the screen quizzically.

Jungkook 11.23 am hope you had a good sleep. And again I’m sorry-jk

You throw your phone to the bed and ball your hands into fists. He’s just feeling guilty, he’s just sorry. You should know better. There’s no way Jungkook suddenly cares for you. You should know that, but why do you feel disappointed? Why does your heart ache so much? 

You rush back to the kitchen. The gukbap is still steamy in the pot. It is one of your favorite foods but right now, you dislike it the most. The delicious smell has turned into a nauseating one. The taste of the broth lingers stubbornly on your tongue, even though you try to wash it away by drinking a lot of water.

A little part of your brain wants to throw the food away but a bigger part in your heart stops it. Your brain wants you to stop hoping that something’s gonna happen with both of you, to recognize that he’s just playing with your feelings. But instead, the feelings just grow stronger, hanging on your feet, not letting you go.

And just like that, you’re back sitting on your table, looking at the steamy pot in front of you with tears in your eyes. Slowly, you begin to pick up your spoon and devour the gukbap quickly, trying to trust your feelings again. You don’t care if you get burned right now, you’ll just have to worry about it afterwards.

There’s nothing.

Jungkook lays on the bed and just stares up at the white ceiling after checking his phone for a millionth time. He sneaks another peek at the screen and he finds nothing.

Nothing. 

Why doesn't she reply to me?

Jungkook lets out a deep sigh, a loud one that makes the man beside him stir in his sleep.

“You know, when you told me that you wanted to crash at my apartment, I thought it’s gonna be a silent one,” Yoongi grumbles. “And what’s with that phone?”

Jungkook bites his lips. “Nothing.”

Yoongi sits up and squints his eyes to Jungkook. “Come on! Just spill it.”

“It’s nothing!” Jungkook stands and walks to the glass window. After all of the team were sent home yesterday, he decided to stay in Yoongi’s apartment. He didn’t tell Yoongi the reason, he didn’t even want to admit to himself that it’s because Yoongi’s apartment is closer to your apartment.

The sunset sky turns red. It’s almost twenty four hours since Jungkook saw you, yet he still thinks about your face, especially the expression he saw your wear in front of your apartment. The one that makes his heart drop to the ground whenever he remembers.

He couldn’t unsee it.

It sticks in his mind like a stubborn pieces of gum.

“Fine. suit yourself.” Yoongi sighs and scratches his head lazily. “By the way, I don’t have any food here. Let’s have dinner outside.”

“I’m even okay with instant noodles, Hyung. Let’s just eat here.”

Yoongi snorts as he walks to the bathroom. “You should open all of my cabinets! There’s literally nothing here,” his voice echoes from the bathroom along with the sound of trickling water. “Lamb skewers?”

“Fine.” Jungkook answers lazily. He takes his phone again and sighs when he sees nothing there. Again. He takes a deep sigh again and puts his phone in his pocket. “Shouldn’t your apartment be filled with some food at least now? You have slept here for a month!”

“Been busy.” Yoongi looks at the younger man with a faint smile on his face. Jungkook looks miserable? Troubled? He doesn’t know what to name it. But Yoongi decides, he can’t leave Jungkook alone right now. “Alright kid, let’s go have some drinks too.”

You’re always a working woman. Even in your college days, there was only a little amount of time that you spent in your dorm, and that only involved sleeping and taking a bath. The rest of your time you spent in the lab, library, and some club activities. There were even times you didn’t come home at all, too busy making the reports which made you fall asleep in the lab. It happened so often to the point of you even kept some spare clothes and your toiletries inside your locker. The only thing you loved about your dorm was the feeling of your tired body when it touched your bed.

That’s why when you’ve spent more than twenty-four hours inside of your own apartment, you’re getting anxious. But there’s no way you could go back to the Company at such an hour, especially not after yesterday. You just need to do something to take your mind off the recent disaster.

You decide to go shopping, your second favorite thing to do. Grocery shopping to be exact. You love how you can spend hours there, just walking from one aisle to  another aisle, reading ingredients in the shampoo rack, calculating which tissue roll is the cheapest out of there, testing every sample in the food area, and observing the other people shopping for their monthly groceries. Plus, there’s no food in your apartment anyway. It’s just a perfect time.

A perfect time to take your mind off of Jungkook.

Although, after a couple of hours of shopping, several bags of groceries, and slightly pained hands, you still can’t wipe the man in question out of your head. 

Especially when you see him in front of your door when you come home. The grocery bags drop to the floor with a rustle.

You shake your head and blink your eyes several times, thinking that you’re seeing things, but you still find him sitting in front of your door.

“Jungkook?” you call cautiously.

His head perks up to see you. “Y/N?” Jungkook smiles widely as he stands up clumsily and pulls you into his chest. “Where have you been? I was worried sick.”

You freeze with the sudden hug. “Wha-What are you doing here?” you struggle to break free from him, and when you see his eyes, your eyebrows purse together in a frown. “Are you drunk?”

Jungkook giggles and tries to hug you again. “Maybe a little..”

“Kook! Are you okay? You want me to call the others?” You hold his hands midair, stopping him from touching you. A door creaks open behind you, and you turn your head. You nod politely to the old man, your neighbor, who is glaring at you from his doorway. Mr. Baek always gets upset about the slightest noise in the hallway. You swallow hard. “Alright, let’s go inside first.”

Just after the door closes, Jungkook hugs you again, making it hard for you to walk. “Will you let me go first? I need to take care of my groceries, otherwise my ice cream will melt.”

Jungkook lets you go with a pout on his face. He leans against the white wall, his eyes never leaving your figure, as you unload the paper bag on the kitchen table. “You know, when I met you for the first time.. You kinda smelled like an ice cream cone.”

Your head tips toward him a little, and then you give your attention back to the groceries in front of you, ignoring his antics. Good thing that you bought a little more than you needed, just enough to distract you from him, several packs of instant noodles, canned hams, some eggs, dried laver, milk, cereal, beers, canned coffees, and some vegetables. And a pint of chocolate ice cream.

“Yes, you smelled like chocolate ice cream. Did you know that chocolate is my favorite flavor? Well, not really, I love mint chocolate more. Oh, Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung really hate that flavor, they always say that it tastes like a toothpaste. Like why do they know in the first place they taste toothpaste?” Jungkook giggles.

“What do you want to say, Jungkook?” You walk over to him with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“What I want to say is, I also love chocolate ice cream but strawberry is a good flavor too. Oh also you just smell different now, are you changing your shampoo or perfume or something? I don’t mean it’s bad, but it’s jus-”

“Why are you here?”

He blinks his eyes several times, a little surprised with the sudden interruption. “I-I don’t know. I think I just wanted to see you.”

Your heart suddenly beats faster. He is mere inches in front of you. You can faintly hear his breathing. “Why?”

Jungkook sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “I think I just want to apologize.”

You look into his eyes, still red from the alcohol-- God knows how much he drank before he came here. “That’s okay.”

You step back but he grabs your wrist tightly, not letting you walk away. “I know you’re still mad at me.”

Raising your eyebrow, you look at him quizzically. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” His grip turns tighter, eyes bored into you. “Why don't you reply to my messages then?”

“I’m not mad at you, Jungkook.” You try to brush him away, but you can’t release yourself from his grip.

He turns around with you still in his arms, trapping you against the wall, sending a sudden pain through your back. He looks straight into your eyes. “Yes, you are. What can I do to make you forgive me?”

You sigh in frustration, “Again, I am not mad at you.”

“You like me, don’t you?”

A sudden heat rushes to your cheeks as your heart beats faster, like you’ve been caught doing something bad. “Wh-what?” 

He pouts, “so, if I give myself to you, you’ll forgive me right?”

“What? What are you talking abo-”

Your lips are silenced with his lips on yours. He kisses you hungrily, fast, taking your breath away. His tongue swipes over your lower lip, asking for entrance, but you keep your lips closed. You simply freeze, not knowing what to do, how to respond. Jungkook on the other hand, senses it and moves his lips to your neck. “You want me, don’t you?”

Of course you want him. But not like this.

Not when he’s this drunk.

Not when he thinks of it as a redemption.

Not when he doesn’t love you the same way you love him.

“Kook, stop it.” Tears start trickling from your eyes. You try to push him away, but he’s stronger than you, he doesn’t even budge. And so you slap him on the cheek as hard as you can. “Stop it.”

Jungkook finally stops and looks at your face. His eyes widen when he sees you slump to the floor, your shoulders shaking. “Y/N? I’m so sor-” He reaches down to you, but you flinch at his touch.

“Just go.” You barely see him through the haze of your tears. Your hand trembles from slapping him; you try to stop it by hugging yourself. Your heart aches, you’re almost sure it broke into pieces. You feel humiliated. You feel sad. You’re confused. You gather your strength to open your mouth. “Please just go.” you whisper in between sobs.

“Y/N…” his eyes turn panic, realizing the enormity of what he’s done.

“GO!”

Jungkook bites his lips and steps back from you. He’s unsure whether it’s right to leave you alone, but he knows he shouldn’t be here. “I’ll be going then. I’ll call you tomorrow okay? Let’s make sense of this when you’ve collected yourself and I’m sober. Okay?”

Your eyes are still flooded with tears and you turn your head away from him, not wanting to see him at the moment. And when you hear the door close behind you, the grief breaks over you even more heavily.

Jungkook is a jerk, he never liked you.

You should hate him.

You give a light hit on your chest, where the pain is the worst. See? That’s for trusting your feelings without giving it much thought. You hit it again, hoping that you can turn your feelings into hatred.

But in fact, you can’t hate him. You still love him.

You just can’t control it. It just grows so fast, like a fire in a dry forest. Everything he did and everything you did, are like winds blowing to the fire, letting it spread wider and wider. And one thing for sure, it burned you.

Taglist: @kb-bangtanenthusiast​ @w0lfqu33n​ @gee-nee​ @jaienn​ @nctssidehoe​ @codeinebelle​ @kali-20 @mygalaxysupernova​ @jeoncookie-bts​ @kookunot​ @1-in-abillion​ @beingbeings​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @yiyi4657​ @jinsalpaca​  @giadalin​ @spring2787​

Taglist open!

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Vaunna my beloved ❤

After your amazing Wels and Hels armorstand scene on my server could I get Wels and Hels story? Please? 👉👈

Oca my beloved ❤️

This is genuinely one of my favourite oneshots I’ve written. I just love the Wels/Hels dynamic so much. 

Also this is technically a sequel to the last one I wrote so go read it here if you like! This one does make sense without it tho

...

  It’s been a few weeks since the server has seen an evil hermit incident, and even though most of the hermits have let down their guard, Welsknight hasn’t. He hasn’t stopped being vigilant since his last encounter with Helsknight. He knows that his evil counterpart is out there somewhere, waiting for another chance to kill him. 

  Wels knows he can’t give him that chance. 

  One morning, while out in the desert, grinding for sand, Wels keeps spotting movement out the corner of his eye but every time he looks, he sees nothing. At first, he thinks it’s just the desert playing tricks on his mind. But his knight training tells him not to be so quick to jump to conclusions. 

  Eventually, he decides to put most of his stuff in a chest and go have a look, just in case. He leaves his valuables in the chest and explores the immediate area, looking carefully for any threats.

  He hears the sound behind him and twists to the side, a split second before a figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to shove him to the ground. 

  Wels jumps back a few steps and raises his diamond pickaxe, realising too late he accidentally brought it instead of his sword. “Helsknight.”

  His evil counterpart grins. “Hey, Welsy. Your face is looking great.”

  Wels’s hand automatically rises to his cheek, where the burn scar from their last encounter still sits. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you, of course. It’s time we have another little battle, don’t you think?”

  Normally, Wels wouldn’t hesitate to stay and fight. But he doesn’t have a real weapon and his inventory is practically empty. 

  So he bolts back towards his chest, intending to grab his sword for a proper battle. But then he realises he may be running directly into a trap, so he changes direction.

  However, at that moment, the ground under his feet gives way, sending him tumbling down into the hole below.

  His fall seems to last only a few seconds but it must be far; when he hits the ground, pain explodes through his whole body. He’s fallen very far. 

  A second after he lands, he hears a splash from nearby and glances up. With the sunlight streaming through the hole, he can see a figure emerging from a single source block of water to his left. His heart skips a beat. 

  “You idiot!” Hels snaps, tossing the bucket at the wall. “You triggered the trap too soon! I wasn’t out of the way yet!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Wels’s voice is strained from pain but his anger is unmistakable. “You’re right; I should have been able to avoid the secret trap you set up for me. Dang it. But hey, at least I’m not now stuck in a hole in terrible pain with next to no resources! That sure wouldn’t be ideal!”

  Hels glares at him. “Quit it with the sarcasm. This is all your fault.”

  Wels feels indignance boil inside him but he forces himself not to rise to the bait. His rational mind knows there’s no point arguing with Hels. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if my friends will come save me.”

  He taps out a message to the server asking for help, and within a minute, he gets replies from both Etho and Joe.

  “They’re on their way,” he says. “You may as well relax, cuz we’re not going anywhere ‘til then.”

  Hels huffs and sits down a few blocks away from Wels, crossing his arms irritably. 

  They sit in silence for a long time. The sun crosses the sky above them, marking the end of the morning and the start of the afternoon. 

  After a while, Wels decides to try and be practical. He checks his inventory; all he has on him is his diamond pickaxe, sixteen obsidian, a flint and steel, a single piece of bread, and some seeds. Nothing particularly useful. There aren’t enough blocks to pillar out, and Wels can hardly move while sitting, let alone standing, anyway. He could make a nether portal, but what would be the point? There’s no way he can survive better in the nether than in this pit right now. 

  He glances up. “Hels, do you have-.”

  “I don’t have anything on me, useful or otherwise,” says Hels immediately.

  Wels knows this means he doesn’t have food on him either. He can tell from the pouty expression on Hels’s face that his counterpart is hungry. Even though Wels’s hunger was reduced somewhat by the fall, he decides to be the bigger person. 

 He breaks his loaf of bread in half and offers the bigger part to Hels, who eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

  Frowning confusedly, Wels replies, “Giving you some bread.”

  “Why?”

  “...because we both need food?”

  “Yeah, so why don’t you just eat it all? You’ll be fuller.”

  “But you won’t have any.” Wels shakes his hand. “Just take it.” 

  Hels continues to scowl at him. “Is it poisoned?”

  Sighing and rolling his eyes, Wels flicks the piece of bread into Hels’s lap and starts slowly eating his own. Out the corner of his eye, he watches Hels carefully inspect the bread before taking a hesitant bite. Finally satisfied that he isn’t being tricked, Hels starts to gobble the bread.

  Wels watches him curiously. “Why would I try to poison you, Hels?”

  Hels shrugs. “We’re enemies, isn’t that what we do? Try to kill each other?”

  “No,” Wels says. “That’s the way YOU see our relationship. I never wanted to be enemies with you, you know.”

  “Really? Wasn’t it you who started all this?”

  “No, you literally turned up out of the blue and dropped me in a hole one day. Then I destroyed you in a rap battle. Remember that?”

  “I remember the hole,” says Hels. “Don’t remember losing any rap battle.”

  “Uh huh.”

  The two fall into silence as they eat. Wels continues to watch Hels, who has already finished his half of the bread. 

  “Can I make an observation?” he asks after a few minutes.

  Hels huffs. “No but you’re gonna do it anyway.”

  “You’re not used to the concept of sharing, are you?”

  “Sharing?” Hels sits up straighter, a possessive look appearing in his eyes. “I don’t share anything! Nothing!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” says Wels. “I meant the concept of people voluntarily sharing things with you.” 

  Hels glares at him for a moment longer, before relaxing visibly. “No. Back in my dimension, it’s every person for themselves. You protect what you’ve got cuz if you don’t, you’re gonna lose it forever, so people hoard their stuff like it’s made of gold. I never got attached to anything cuz I knew it’d probably get snatched away from me sooner or later. I-.” He breaks off as he registers Wels’s expression. “Oh, don’t you dare pity me,” he growls. 

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes you are, you’re looking at me like I’m an abandoned baby dog or something.”

  Wels raises an eyebrow. “Baby dog? You mean a puppy?”

  “Shut up!” Hels growls again and huffily turns away from his counterpart. “I’m not a stupid puppy for you to adopt and train! If I get the opportunity, I WILL kill you. I would gladly leave you here to rot if it meant I could get outta this stupid hole. In fact, the only reason I’m not beating you to death right now is because you’re my best chance of getting out of here alive.”

  A pause follows his words. 

  Eventually, Wels sighs. “Sometimes, it’s so easy to see that you’re all the worst parts of me combined.”

  To his surprise, Hels doesn’t respond. His arms are folded but Wels can’t see his expression, can’t see that his counterpart’s eyes are misted over. 

  Hels is frustrated with himself; Wels has insulted him many times since their first meeting so why did that one little remark hurt him so much? Why has it brought him to tears like this? 

  Maybe it’s because Wels’s remark forced him to remember that he’s not his own person. He wasn’t born organically; he was brought into existence by a combination of Wels and a weird cloning machine. The nature of his “birth” means he isn’t a real person. He’s just a copy of Wels, made up of all the parts of himself that he hates.  

  Maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

  A soft groan brings Hels out of his thoughts. He glances to the right and sees that Wels’s condition has deteriorated; his skin has rapidly paled and he’s clearly struggling to breathe. 

  As Hels watches, Wels reaches a shaking hand into his inventory and weakly throws an item to Hels, who catches it and turns it over. It’s a flint and steel. 

  Hels glances up in time to see Wels drop some obsidian down beside him as well. “Go, Hels,” he rasps. “Make a portal and go back to the nether.”

  Hels blinks, his mind racing as he tries to figure out the catch. “What are you doing? Why did you give me this?”

  “So you can escape. My friends are coming for me but I’ll probably die before they get here. If you’re still here when they arrive, there’s no telling what they’ll do to you. Just go while you still can.”

  After a moment, Hels narrows his eyes. “Are you tricking me? What’s the catch?”

  “Nothing,” Wels insists weakly. “Just please, go, quickly.”

  “No, seriously. Why are you so insistent I leave?”

  “B-Because…” Wels hesitates, taking in a shaky breath. “Because it’s getting dark and the mobs will be coming soon and I don’t want you to die. If I die, I respawn. You don’t.”

  Hels stares at his counterpart in confusion. “You… don’t want me to die?”

  “Of course not. How many times do we have to-.”

  He breaks off as he tries to stifle a pained cry. The fall damage he took is starting to catch up with him now. 

  The groan of a zombie sounds from nearby. Hels’s eyes widen with fear.

  “Go, Hels!” Wels’s voice cracks. “Please!” 

  Looking deep into his counterpart’s eyes and finding nothing but fear and desperation in them, Hels turns and creates a portal on the very edge of the pit, lighting it up with the flint and steel. 

  He glances back at Wels one final time, before disappearing through the portal.

  Wels closes his eyes, breathing a shallow sigh. His counterpart should be safe; if he’s anything like Wels himself, he knows how to survive on his own. 

  As the mob sounds start to surround him, he feels a calm sense of relief. He knows he’ll respawn back in his bed, and at this moment, he doesn’t care that he’ll lose the items he has on him right now. He just wants the pain to end. 

…

  Hidden safely in the nether, Hels clutches the flint and steel his counterpart gave him. He can’t stop staring at it; it represents the sacrifice Wels made for him. The first time anyone has been willing to lay down their own life for him. He can hardly believe it even happened at all; the concept of loving someone enough to want to protect them even at the cost of their own life is completely foreign. 

  As he’s puzzling this out, a message appears on the communicator he stole from Wels during their last confrontation. A message he knew deep down was coming, but one that still catches him off guard. 

Welsknight was slain by zombie

[ejzah]

A/N: Latest little fic for the Deeks at FLETC series. I bet you thought I was done with this storyline.

***

Walk It Off

“Hey man,” Charlie Teale shouted, clapping Deeks on the back as fell into step beside him. Deeks just barely held back a wince, his ribs and abdomen twinging sharply from the well-meant gesture. He discreetly wrapped an arm around his middle and managed a half grin in Charlie’s direction.

“Hey, nice work on that simulation exercise yesterday,” he said. Charlie accepted the praise with a pleased smile and a shrug.

“Couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I gave you some tips, but you’re the one who put in the hard work.” Deeks reached out to give him a fist bump, hoping to avoid anything too strenuous or enthusiastic. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Deeks,” Charlie said, a little shyly, which was odd coming from the normally outspoken man. “It means a lot coming from you.” He glanced down at his watch and swore under his breath. “Crap. I have to get to my next class. You still good to run later?”

Deeks hesitated, thinking of the bandages he’d wrapped around his torso earlier that morning. Even with that, it still hurt when he breathed too deeply or moved suddenly.

“Uh, yeah, sure. That’ll be fine.”

“Great, I’ll see you after lunch.” Charlie gave him a friendly punch, thankfully in the shoulder this time, and then jogged off to his next class.

Sighing, Deeks wondered how he was going to make it through an hour run. He wasn’t about to cancel though and risk someone figuring out that he was injured. A couple ibuprofen right before and the tightest bandages Deeks could manage would have to do.

***

Deeks knew almost as soon as they started running that he’d made a terrible decision. His left side burned after just a few strides and he could barely keep on pace with Charlie.

He kept his head down, trying to concentrate on staying upright while Charlie chatted about the next round of tests they had coming up.

“How hard do you think fieldwork assessment will be?” he asked. Deeks grunted instead of answering, drawing in a shallow breath that did nothing to alleviate the ache in his chest. It felt like there was a anvil sitting on his lungs. “I heard that-geez, Deeks, are you ok?”

Charlie glanced over in time to see Deeks stumble and fall to his knees. He panted unevenly, black spots blocking his vision as Charlie continued to say his name with increasing panic.

“I’m...ok,” Deeks managed to wheeze, ignoring the fact that his arms were shaking and he thought he might pass out if he even thought about moving.

“You just fell over, man. That is the exact opposite of ‘ok’.” Ignoring Deeks’ breathless protests, Charlie helped him into a sitting position against a tree. He was grateful for the solid wood behind his back and concentrated on evening out his breath. Eventually he glanced up at Charlie again, who was pacing in a small circle, hands on his hips.

“Sorry about that.”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Charlie asked, sounding pissed off. Deeks figured it was more to do with worry than actual anger. “Yesterday you ran like six miles and took down three opponents like it was nothing.”

Sighing, Deeks swiped his arm across his forehead and glanced up. Little streams of sunlight were filtering through the tree tops.

“You know that last jab Ramirez got in when we were sparring?” Deeks said as he lifted the edge of his shirt, revealing the layer of bandages. “I think he might have broken a rib. Or two.”

Hissing in sympathy, Charlie crouched in front of him and gently prodded the spot Deeks indicated.

“Son of a-!” Charlie jerked back at Deeks’ exclamation, his eyebrows drawing together even more.

“Dude, I barely touched you. If it hurts that bad, you need to get to the clinic and get checked out.”

“No!” Deeks leaned forward like he could somehow stop Charlie in his current condition. “I could get kicked out if it’s bad enough.”

“You almost passed out,” Charlie reminded him, his tone slightly sarcastic. “I know you’re used to doing insane things with your team, but you can’t fight or train like this. You could injure yourself even worse.”

“I can handle it,” Deeks insisted. He gave Charlie a pleading look. “I might not get another chance if I blow this one. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Deeks...”

“I’ll take it as easy as I can and if I feel like it’s not improving, I’ll get checked out.”

“Right, cause you’re clearly such a good judge of what’s reasonable,” Charlie said. He shook his head and then sighed deeply. “Fine. I won’t rat you out. Yet.” He raised a finger before Deeks could say anything. “But if I think you’re being too risky, I reserve the right to drag your stubborn butt to the emergency.”

“Understood,” Deeks agreed, not exactly pleased with Charlie’s terms, but knowing by now that he wasn’t easily swayed when he’d made a decision. “Thanks.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and reached to help Deeks stand.

“I’m beginning to see why there’s so many stories about your team. You guys really are crazy.”

“Oh, if you think I’m bad-” Deeks paused to groan and pressed his hand over his ribs again. “Then you should hear about this op we had in Mexico.”

[cognitivefunk]

Under the Sunlight

I’m terrible with titles. So here is DAY 2 of the smut writing prompt! I wrote this just now in the evening hours! I hope you enjoy 

Title: Under the Sunlight Prompt: Sunscreen Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Le Comte x Female Reader  Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings/Tags: Smut, I butcher the French language, passionate sex, consensual, oral sex, I ended this with a VERY corny line Word Count: 1,778

#summer of smut & #summer of smut writing challenge

The sun was beaming down in all its beautiful intensity and you decided it would be a nice day to lay out it the sun to relax. There wasn’t any sort of air conditioning in the mansion, and it was starting to get stuffy inside. There was a warm breeze that rustled the leaves in the garden and you brought a thin blanket with you to lay on and soak up some rays.

The only thing was, if you were going to spend any length of time in the sun you knew you needed to put on a bit of sunscreen. You were able to apply it to your face and arms, but your camisole left part of your back exposed and you were having trouble reaching it.

Unbeknownst to you, Le Comte had been watching you from across the garden, amusement twinkling in his deep golden eyes. He was waiting to see if you could actually stretch that far, but your struggle was adorable in its own right. He shook his head to himself, setting his drink down on the garden table before walking at his leisurely pace until he stood behind you.

“Ma chérie, let me help you with that,” his warm breath on your ear startled you, and he had taken the bottle from your hands, opening the cap to apply a small amount to his fingers. “Comte!!” you exclaimed, a flustered expression hiding none of your surprise. His long fingers splayed out over your neck, dropping down to rub the substance over the top of your back, guiding you with his free hand to lie down on the blanket. “It’s a beautiful day; we wouldn’t want you getting burned now would we?”

Flustered as you may have been, you didn’t argue with the pureblood, laying down on your stomach and allowing him to work his fingers over the flesh of your back. “Thank you, I really appreciate it! I wasn’t sure who to ask since it’s kind of awkward,” you explained. Though in the back of your mind you knew you could have asked Sebastian without much issue, given how cordial he was.

“Oh? Is that so?” he feigned indignation, a warm smile on his lips, “Ma chérie, you can ask me anything, especially matters such as this,” he leaned closer to your body as he ran his fingers over your back, the softness of your skin drawing him in. “Tu es parfaite… “he whispered under his breath. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but your mind reels, hoping against all hope that you heard him correctly.

He took a deep breath, the intoxicating aroma of your scent mixed with the smell from the sunscreen caressed his senses and a flower of desire blossomed in his chest. To him, you were the sun, the breeze, and the dazzling stars in the night sky. You were everything, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He had taken the opportunity to give himself an excuse to touch you. To feel your velvet skin beneath his fingertips. He wanted to just melt into you.

He cursed at himself internally, chastising himself to behave as he fought against his urge to explore more of your body. “Hm? Did you say something?” you asked, hoping he would clarify his statement. Your voice, your sweet melodic voice, brought him back to reality. His hands paused, but did not leave your body. “Ah, just admiring what a beautiful day it is,” he mused, the corners of his eyes crinkling with one of his cryptic smiles.

You had turned to watch him from the side of your eye, propped up on your elbows to get a better look at him. When your eyes met his, you thought you saw a deep longing for a glimmering moment, and your heart fluttered. Given his keen senses, he was made all too aware of your quickening pulse, and it only made your scent more alluring to the man. “Do I make you nervous, ma chérie?” he inquired while gently moving your hair off of your shoulder so that it would not stick to the freshly applied sunscreen.

You swallowed visibly, a small chill running through your body where he touched. You turned to face him, sitting up so you could look him in the eye. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you feared him. “NO! No…not exactly,” you worked through your thoughts, your feelings making your brain a jumbled mess.

“Not exactly?” he repeated your words back to you, suddenly feeling quite emboldened. He observed you patiently as you sorted out what you were trying to say. He fought the urge to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him.

‘Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.’

"Comte…” you start, fidgeting your hands in your lap. You take a deep breath and try again, “When I’m with you, my heart races and I can’t think straight.” You wanted to look away after your simple confession, but he couldn’t hold back the urge to cup your cheek any longer. He brought your gaze back to his, a smoldering fire on the surface that bore into you, showing you a glimpse of the depths of his yearning for you.

“Shh, ­­­­­____,” he whispered against your lips, drawing you closer to his as he closed the distance between you. His lips were soft as they moved against yours, and you couldn’t help but sigh dreamily into the kiss. He needed to taste you, to take but a part of you as this hunger grew within him. His tongue was soon tracing your lower lip, seeking entrance into your sweet lips which you gladly granted him with a soft gasp.

Your tongues embraced in the intimate kiss, enjoying the sweetness of one another under the afternoon sun.  He pulled back, only to kiss the underside of your jaw, running his tongue along a particularly sensitive spot that made you sing out for him. “J’ai envie de te faire l’amour…” he whispered sensually against your neck, bringing you into his lap.

You felt flush, your body temperature rising at his words, knowing full well he was asking to make love to you. “Let’s take this inside?” you were breathless, and didn’t want to break the trance the two of you were under, but you also did not want to be caught by one of the other residents having a mid-afternoon tryst in the garden.

Le Comte wrapped his arms around you, lifting you with him to retreat back to his bedroom where he could lay you down on his luxurious sheets. The two of you barely made it through the door before you began unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie, using it to pull his mouth closer to yours, pouring your passion into your kiss. He responded tenfold, grabbing your ass tightly against him, and pushing you up against the wall to roll his hips up into you.

You could feel how worked up he truly was against your most sensitive area. He captured your earlobe between his lips, biting your soft flesh teasingly before placing his lips right against the shell of your ear, hissing, “J’ai envie de toi.” I want you.

He attached his mouth to your neck, mindful of his fangs, and began his work of leaving his mark in you. You were putty in his hands, moaning and arching against his touch. “Oui, mon chéri, je veux que tu me baises.” Yes darling, I want you to fuck me.

Hearing such vulgar language spill from you for him almost made him drive his fangs straight into your neck to keep you forever. Or at least to extend your life and keep you by his side, but that was a decision that would have to wait for later. For now, he wanted to indulge in you. He moved you from the wall to splay you out on his satin sheets of his bed.

“You are perfect,” he breathed, undressing you and leaving kisses along your skin as he slowly unwrapped you like a present just for him. “___, you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you like this.” He trailed his tongue down your abdomen, worshiping every inch of you. Not a single patch of skin was left untouched, he gazed lovingly at every part of you, enraptured in your beauty. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, and he wanted more. More.

“I must have all of you,” he hissed, grabbing your legs to bring you closer to the edge of the bed, delving his tongue into your folds. He looked up from his spot between your legs, making smoldering eye contact as he drew his tongue up the length of you slowly, flicking it against your clit at the end for good measure just to watch you writhe.

“Then take all of me,” you panted, your arousal leaving you a mess. A smirk spread across his lips and he slid a finger into your dripping pussy, sliding it in and out with care, curling his finger inside you, searching for that magical spot to make you fall apart for him. “If you, my beloved, are offering then I will gladly take all of you.”

He pressed his lips to your thigh, watching as you began to tremble beneath him, your impending climax building like a dam ready to burst. He would gladly drown in all of you. “Ma chérie, give your everything to me,” he groaned, pressing his lips to your soaking core as he placed a second finger alongside the first, still curling up to press against the spot that made all thoughts leave your mind. You could only moan in response, bucking up into his waiting mouth, his tongue bringing you over the edge with a sharp cry. You arched off of the bed, holding onto his head to ground yourself as he continued to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you, tasting you on his tongue.

Your body twitched at the overstimulation, your nerves firing on all ends as he finally pulled his fingers from you to clean off with his tongue, making sure to put on a show by licking up each digit individually before delving them into his mouth to suck on. He stood at the end of the bed, trailing his fingers down his body as he removed the rest of his own clothing, partially undressed by yours truly just moments before.

“You’re going to be late to dinner, ma chérie, I am going to spoil you with dessert early.”

[electrickoushi]

denki kaminari has lost his sister

a/n: happy new year! this fic was for one of my other friend’s xmas presents which is just a bit late. i hope you enjoy it!

pairing: kaminari denki x shinsou hitoshi tags: fluff, lifeguard au, they are equally whipped, pre-relationship, crush at first sight wc: 5.8k

Denki is ready for vacation. He’s ready to hit the beach, eat a ridiculous amount of hamburgers, and maybe even get a tan to show off to his friends back in Japan. He is significantly less prepared to chase after a lost sister (multiple times) and talk to a surprisingly cute lifeguard that manages to stumble upon Denki in his time of need. 

Denki’s cheap slides slapped against the ground as he and his family stepped off the airplane.

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and looked around. Large windows surrounded them, allowing sunlight to flood in. Potted plants sat on the tiled floor and lined the walls. People tripped over one another as they all eagerly ran to security to start their vacations.  

Denki’s family took their sweet time retrieving their luggage. They walked at the pace of a snail despite the boy’s wish for them to hurry up. For some reason, they decided to stand still on all of the walkways (which had the word walk in them, Denki pointed out) and gawk at all the foreign stores. 

They arrived at the tram station that would take them directly to their hotel, just to find out that they had missed it by only a few minutes. The woman working at the desk for the tram told them that it would be another twenty minutes until the next one came. Denki’s mom just thanked the woman and waved it off, not understanding that she was wasting the precious minutes of vacation Denki had calculated on the plane. 10,283 minutes of relaxing time in which he didn’t have to deal with Katsuki’s terrible behavior, Mr. Aizawa’s dull grumbling, or Ms. Midnight’s provocative... um, homework. 

Twenty minutes later (10,223 minutes left), the tram screeched to a halt, and the Kaminaris walked out to board. 

Smiling widely, Denki’s sister Yuki took his right hand as she glanced around to explore the new country they would be living in for the next week. Once they got seated, Yuki let go so she could turn and look out the window. 

“So how’s Hawaii so far?” he asked his little sister, flicking one of her pigtails. 

He was scared that the foreign land and language and people might be too overwhelming for a five-year-old, but she was clearly enjoying every moment so far. He saw her wide eyes in the reflection as she took in all the scenery. 

“Wonderful! Do you see the ocean? It’s so blue.” She pressed her finger against the window. Wonder and amazement flashed in her eyes and Denki laughed. It’s like she forgot they also lived on an island surrounded by an ocean. 

They both watched the exotic flora pass by while the driver spewed out facts about Hawaii that would entertain the tourists. They flew over his mom’s, dad’s, and sister’s heads since Denki was the only one with strong enough English to understand the fast, muffled speech of the driver. 

The tram stopped in front of their hotel, and the brother and sister stood up to follow their parents out to collect their suitcases. They rolled them up the brick pathway, careful not to bump into other guests. 

A cold burst of air conditioning greeted them when they walked into the building. Warm, earthy tones decorated the lobby, giving it an overall oriental feel, which was probably why his parents chose this hotel in the first place. Guests were drawn toward the main novelty of the lobby: the small waterfall in the middle of the room. The water cascaded over a wooden wall and emptied into a small koi pond where kids could throw in small pellets of food. 

His parents walked straight past the wall and towards the check-in desk with the assumption that their kids were trailing right behind them. Denki hurried after them (only 10,206 minutes remaining), but suddenly saw a small flash of bright blonde hair dip into the gift shop. He groaned and ran after Yuki. 

Denki found her next to the souvenir t-shirts with sayings like “Aloha” and “Welcome to Hawaii” on them. She was tugging on a hot pink one that was five times too large for her. 

“Yuki, you can’t run off like this.” He grabbed her arm that was clinging to the fabric and made her let go of it. 

She whined, sticking out her tongue at her older brother. Denki rolled his eyes at the childish behavior but was secretly thankful that she didn’t start throwing a temper tantrum. Those meltdowns could last for hours on end, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with one of those in public. 

Denki had just managed to get Yuki to leave the gift store when their parents walked up to them, glaring. 

His mother started the attack before Denki could even try to defend himself. “Denki, I thought you were more responsible than this. After we got our keycards, we turned around just to find you gone.” 

Denki wanted to scream at their ignorant, illogical thinking. He held back his sigh and tried to explain. “You don’t understand, I was coming to get her and-” 

“Stop making excuses. You also left your suitcase in the middle of the lobby. You should be glad no one stole it.” His dad thrust the handle of his suitcase towards Denki. 

I’m sorry that you can’t keep track of your own child, so your poor son had to do it for you, just to get in trouble for running off, Denki bitterly thought as he watched his parents spin around and march off. Naturally, they expected their children to follow them. 

It had been less than an hour since they landed and they were already mad at him. He rolled his eyes and huffed. What a great family trip this was going to be. 

Even Yuki must have sensed the tension since her usual, endless babbling had subsided while they walked behind their parents to the elevators. 

The elevator ride was quiet. 

The doors slid open and Denki was the first to escape the cold atmosphere. He reached their room first but had to wait for his mother with the keycard. She swiped it, the green light switching on to signal that it was unlocked. He quickly pushed the door open and entered the room. 

There were two beds, which meant he would be sharing one with his sister unless he wanted to sleep on the couch or the floor. That would also mean that she would get an entire bed to herself, and that was utterly unacceptable. 

He tucked his suitcase between the wall and the bedframe before checking out the rest of the hotel room. They had a giant TV on top of a dresser placed in front of the beds. There was a nightstand between them with a clock, lamp, and phone on top. Pictures of various plants and landscapes adorned the walls. 

Skinny French doors opened to a smaller room with a living area. There was a green couch facing another TV, and a desk situated in the corner. Denki found a small kitchenette and a door leading to the bathroom. 

He returned to the earlier room and pulled back the beige curtains to reveal a sliding glass doorwall leading to a balcony. They had a great view of the strip of beach that the hotel owned. 

His parents sat on their bed and talked in hushed whispers. 

Probably about me, Denki thought as he flopped on his bed face-down. If only he could escape for a while to give them time to cool off. 

He unzipped his suitcase to dig out his Switch when he saw his swim trunks. He looked out the doorwall again. 

“Mom, Dad, can I go to the beach?” he asked, forgetting all about his game and pulling out the hideous shorts instead. 

“I don’t know, can we trust you?” his father retorted. 

Denki bit back a tart response. “I’ll be okay. I’ll take my phone and stuff.” “I want to swim!” Yuki popped her head in out of nowhere. She seemed to have returned to her normal, hyperactive self. 

His mom clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Denki, you take your sister to the beach and your father and I can have some alone time here.” 

“But I wanted to-” 

“You wanted to what?” his dad asked, arching an eyebrow to give him The Look.

“... Talk to girls,” he sheepishly admitted. And guys too, which is what I would say if I was actually out to you two. 

“This is a family vacation. If you want to go to the beach, take your sister along with you. Besides, you speak English well, so if your sister gets lost, she’ll be fine.” 

He held back another aggravated scream. “Fine. Yuki, go get your swimsuit on.” 

Denki grabbed his pair of hideous yellow swim trunks with black lightning bolts on them. They were so outrageously horrible, which is exactly why he bought them in the first place. 

Walking into the bathroom, he quickly changed into them and applied sunscreen to his face. 

He packed a bag to take with him while his sister changed. In it were his phone, three towels (one for him, one for his sister, and one to sit on), and one of the keycards. 

“Okay, here’s her floaties, and some money for snacks.” His mom handed the objects to him. He tucked the cash into the outside pocket of his drawstring. The floaties wouldn’t fit, so he would just have to carry them. 

“Carrying transparent pink and blue floaties with flowers on them is truly the epitome of hotness,” he muttered to himself as he blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Come on, Yuki.” 

“Have a great time, you two!” his mother beamed as if she wasn’t mad at him only a few minutes earlier. 

“Will do.” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

His sister darted down the hallway and Denki couldn’t help but groan.

-

They found a shady spot underneath a palm tree that was pretty close to the beach, the optimal location. From here, Denki could watch Yuki if she wanted to go swim or play by herself. They could also build sandcastles more easily since they wouldn’t have to haul ass to get wet sand. Finding the spot wasn’t too difficult since the beach wasn’t packed either. It was the middle of a Tuesday after all. 

Denki rolled out the striped towel and set the bag on top to weigh it down. He dropped the floaties with a dejected sigh before sitting down and peeling off his shirt. Despite the warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, he still felt agitated from the altercation earlier. 

He pulled Yuki into his lap, twisting one of her pigtails around his finger. Her arms were already sticky from sweat and her feet were coated with sand. More granules of sand transferred to the towel and Denki’s legs the longer she sat. 

“You’re not mad at me too, are you?”  he asked, picking her small body up to reposition her to face him. 

She shook her head, placing her small, sticky hands onto Denki’s bare shoulders. “I love you, Denki!” She kissed him on the cheek and giggled. 

He couldn’t help but smile and pull her into a hug. She may be a brat sometimes, but if anyone was on his side, it was her. “I love you too, Yuki.” 

“Can we get ice cream?” she asked while hugging him back. Her hair tickled his ear as the slight breeze swung it back and forth. 

Ice cream was a great option to battle the heat, second only to jumping into the ocean. Plus they hadn’t eaten anything since the plane ride, so he was starving. He wanted a real meal, preferably a hamburger with a large side of fries, but they wouldn’t be having dinner for a few more hours. The pool bar was open, but he had no clue what they sold or how much it was. Frankly, he wasn’t feeling up to the task of talking to people either. 

“Of course,” he replied, bringing joy to his sister’s eyes. He eyed at the crowd swarming the ice cream truck. There were so many people, all shoving to get their popsicles and ice cream sandwiches, and he didn’t want her to get hurt or lost. 

“Um…” Crap, he had no clue what to do. “Yuki, I’m going to go get us ice cream, okay? Listen, you have to promise me that you won’t leave this spot. Can you promise me that?”  

“I promise!” 

Denki nodded and set her down on the towel. She fell square on her butt, digging both her hands into the damp sand. She looks occupied enough, he decided as he dug the money out of his bag and told her goodbye. 

Halfway to the truck, he turned around to check if Yuki was still sitting on the towel. Thankfully she was, easing his fears slightly. 

He waited in line for a bit, bought two ice cream sandwiches, and made his way back to the large palm tree. The sandwiches seemed to be melting in his hand by the second, so he took up a quick jog. He watched his path, trying not to step on anyone or anything while the sand burned his feet. 

When he reached their resting place, he expected sticky fingers grabbing at the sandwich in his hand. Instead, Yuki was gone. 

He dropped the two wrapped sandwiches and frantically swiveled his head around in search of those blonde pigtails and purple swimsuit. 

He had really done it now. What if she got kidnapped? What if she got into the water and drowned? His parents would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. Of course he shouldn’t have left her there. 

“God, why am I so stupid?” He felt like crying and screaming and kicking something. This vacation just kept getting worse and worse. 

“Hey, are you okay?” a deep voice said in English. 

Denki looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun to find a purple-haired boy staring at him with concern. The boy’s lips were set in a firm line and the bags under his eyes were quite profound. He may not have been found objectively attractive by the common person, but Denki couldn’t help but find a certain kind of beauty in the orderly unkemptness of the boy. 

Now is not the time to think about that though, Denki thought, chiding himself for his behavior. 

“I mean, you just look… distressed,” the boy said when Denki didn’t reply. 

Denki was distressed. So much so, that he didn’t notice when he started cussing in Japanese, which is what brought the boy over in the first place. 

“Oh. I’m fine. I’m good besides the fact that I literally lost my sister and when I go back to the hotel, I will get decapitated by my parents after being awarded ‘Worst Brother of the Year.’” Denki slapped his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes of any stray tears. 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Do you want help looking for her?” he asked, squatting down and prying Denki’s hands off his face. 

Denki looked up and into the purple eyes of his new savior. “Yes. Please, yeah, thanks.” 

The boy stood up and offered his hand out to the blonde. Denki took it and smiled. Somehow, his hand wasn’t as sweaty as everyone else’s. It’s like his body had adjusted to the almost unbearable heat. That or he was just too pretty to sweat. He wasn’t sure. 

“What does she look like?” the purplet asked, placing his hands on his hips and cracking his back then his neck.

Denki was not staring at his back muscles nor at his crazy hair that must have been at least sort of soft. 

Cracking his knuckles, the boy looked at the blonde expectantly and waited for his response. 

“Oh, right,” Denki cleared his throat. “Well, she is five, and she is kind of short. She has blonde hair too, but it’s lighter than mine and in pigtails, and she has a purple swimsuit on, kind of like the color of your hair, and yeah.” 

“Okay. Don’t worry we will find her.” He took in the long expanse of sand and people ahead of them. His sunglasses would have been nice.

Denki rubbed the nape of his neck. He felt guilty that he was wasting someone else’s time, but he needed all the help he could get. This vacation was already a complete shitshow and a lost sister on his watch would make it an Oscar-winning shit-performance or whatever the step up from shitshow was. “My name is Denki, by the way. Uh, thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m Hitoshi, one of the lifeguards here. So it’s really no problem. It’s my job to save everyone.”

Somehow that made Denki feel a little better.  

“Okay, Denki, do you have any idea where she could be?” 

Denki shook his head. 

“Okay, let’s just ask around then?” Hitoshi suggested. 

They started their trek, Denki with his slides on and Hitoshi barefoot. The heat had made Denki’s hair start to frizz, and he tried to discreetly pat it down. He didn’t put any gel in it this morning since he thought he would be swimming, not talking to a hot guy while looking for his sister. 

They approached the nearest person, a middle-aged woman with a big, floppy hat and large sunglasses who was reading a magazine and tanning. Clad in a skimpy pink bikini, she laid on one of those beach chairs, long legs stretched out. Her giant boobs spilled out of her halter top, drawing the attention of many males around, which seemed to be one of her objectives of the day, along with tanning and reading about the top seven diets that are taking the world by storm. 

Hitoshi promptly ignored the lady’s more than concerning fashion choices and led the conversation. “Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen a little five-year-old girl anywhere? She has blonde pigtails and a purple swimsuit on.” He held his hand near his waist to illustrate her height. 

She pulled her sunglasses off with an exaggerated snap of her wrist and glanced up at the boys. “Did you lose a child? Aren’t you supposed to be a lifeguard?” She flicked the whistle hanging from Hitoshi’s neck and turned back towards her magazine. 

Denki was shocked, first by her ginormous, unshielded tits, but now by her sharp words. Hitoshi was just trying to help him search for his sister. Why was she being so rude? 

Hitoshi started to speak, but Denki stepped forward. “Look, lady. You have no right to speak to my friend this way. Have you seen my sister or not?” 

The lady narrowed her eyes at the blonde. “I have not,” she said, snapping open her magazine and turning away. “Brats.” 

Denki stomped away from the woman. Once they were out of earshot, he started grumbling. “Despite your strong milf status, you’re a complete bitch.” 

Hitoshi softly laughed at the strange yet comical remark. 

The joyful sound was unexpected as it landed on Denki’s ears. Hitoshi had a deep, almost gravelly voice (one that Denki found undeniably hot) that seemed to never fluctuate in tone or timbre. It was calm and stable, so the warm, sweet sound made Denki’s heart skip a few beats and made his mouth malfunction for a few seconds. 

“You have a nice laugh,” he blurted out. His cheeks went red with embarrassment once he realized what he said. “Er, I-” 

Hitoshi just laughed more at the blonde’s candor. “Thanks.” 

Denki decided to stop talking, stop looking at the purple-haired boy altogether before he said another stupid thing. 

The two boys walked around, going from person to person and asking if they had seen Yuki. Everyone shook their heads and returned to their activity, clearly uninterested in finding the lost child. So far the bitchy milf was the worst of the worst, but no one else was that much better.

Each time they got out of earshot, Denki had some underhanded comment that made Hitoshi laugh. 

-

As they walked around, Denki and Hitoshi made small talk, discovering different things about each other. (Denki had lost track of exactly how many minutes of vacation were left a while ago, as he was just a bit too preoccupied with something, or someone, else.) 

Hitoshi worked as a lifeguard during the summer, weekends, and school breaks along with his two friends, Eijirou and Mina. His purple hair always stuck up like crazy, even though it got wet all the time. Oh, he also loved cats and liked to go biking when he had some free time. 

Denki had come to Hawaii for a vacation with his family, but they were sort of fighting right now. The black lighting bolt in his hair was natural, even though no one really believed him. Oh, he also loved hamburgers and liked to hang out with cute guys who liked cats when he had some free time. 

Hitoshi smiled at his last comment. Sometimes he had a hard time discerning whether someone was just being very friendly or if they were trying to flirt with him. It was seven times harder when it came to boys. But by now, he was ninety-nine percent sure Denki was flirting with him. He just called him cute for goodness sake.

They walked around for a few more minutes with no luck. Hitoshi was frustrated at the lack of care from the guests while Denki was about to go berserk. It had been twenty minutes and still no luck. How were they ever going to find her? 

Hitoshi was very worried about the blonde. He could sense the spiraling about to occur, but his break was ending right now. 

“Hey, Eijirou!” He shouted, waving both arms above his head to get the attention of the other lifeguard. The red-haired boy turned around and squinted at the pair. Was Hitoshi actually talking to another human? 

Hitoshi grabbed the blonde’s hand and ran towards the tower. Denki started thinking about how nicely the lifeguard’s hand fit in his. 

“Hitoshi, what’s up bro? Who’s this?” He climbed down from the tower and stuck his hands on his hips, looking back and forth between the two boys. His eyes followed their arms that met in a handhold, and Eijirou couldn’t help but smirk. Listening to Hitoshi while very obviously staring at their interlocked hands, he shook his leg to get the sand off before slipping his foot into a red croc. 

“This is Denki, and we are looking for his sister. So can you just cover my post for a little bit more?” 

They were not getting the hint. He watched Hitoshi very slowly slip his thumb out to stroke the side of Denki’s hand. Eijirou watched the blonde’s breath hitch as he stared straight ahead, trying not to pass away. 

The redhead just gave them a cheeky grin. “Yeah, no problem! What does she look like?” 

“Well, she’s five and has blonde pigtails and a purple swimsuit,” Denki described, motioning with his free hand. 

Eijirou considered the description, squinting, until something finally clicked. “Oh, you mean her?” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of his lifeguard tower.

The three watched as Yuki popped out behind the white wood of his lifeguard chair. Eijirou smiled, Hitoshi gasped, and Denki felt his soul ascend. He would live to see another day. 

He tore away from Hitoshi and ran over to his sister, kneeling down so they were eye level. “Yuki, why did you leave when you promised me you wouldn’t?” 

She shrugged, playing with her skirt and wiggling around. The sand must have been terribly interesting because she refused to make eye contact with her brother. Maybe she was finally feeling guilty about all the trouble she’s caused today. Denki pouted in return and furrowed his eyebrows.

Watching the blonde’s cute expression, Hitoshi could swear he fell in love just a little more. 

Yuki dashed away, kicking up sand and dodging Denki’s arms. “Not again,” he whined, bowing his head in defeat before standing up to go chase after his sister. 

She ran right past Hitoshi who scooped her up before she could escape. 

“You should have listened to your big brother, Yuki. He’s been spending all this time looking for you,” Hitoshi said in perfect Japanese. He was still standing next to Eijirou, far enough away that Denki couldn't hear him. 

She frowned and flashed him big puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he said, glancing over at Denki. He set her down and she ran back to him, hugging his leg. “Sorry, Denki.” 

He sighed and sat down on his butt. “It’s okay, just please don’t run away again.” 

Yuki giggled and crawled into his arms, burying her face in his neck and blowing a raspberry. 

“Yuki…” He cracked a smile and started tickling her, seeming to forget about the harrowing experience she just put him through. 

-

While the siblings made up, Eijirou left, clapping Hitoshi on the back and wishing him good luck, both with the second half of the shift and his newfound crush. 

Hitoshi climbed back up on his chair, leaning against the back of it and sighing. In the past twenty minutes, he saw a swearing Japanese boy on the verge of a breakdown, asked said boy what was wrong, helped said boy find his sister, and developed quite the crush on said boy. 

The sun beat down on Hitoshi as he watched the brother and sister duo with a smile on his face. He rested his arms on his knees, holding up his face with two curled fists. Sitting down and watching people enjoy their lives was very boring compared to the adventure he took with Denki. 

“Ooooh, who are you staring at ‘Toshi?” 

Hitoshi almost fell out of his chair, which would have been quite the sight to see. “What?” 

“You haven’t blinked for a full minute. Who are you watching?” Mina asked, surveying the ocean in search of the individual who managed to steal Hitoshi’s heart. 

“No one,” Hitoshi said, blinking aggressively. His eyes did feel very dry all of a sudden. 

Very unconvincing. “Mhm…” she mused. 

“Don’t you have work to be doing?” teased Hitoshi as he dragged his eyes away from Denki and placed them on the waitress.

She stuck her tongue out at him and tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts. Hitoshi just stared at her silently. After a few seconds, Mina just scoffed and ran a hand through her pink hair. 

“You’re so boring. I’ll find out who you were staring at though, Mr. Heart Eyes, just you wait!” Mina ran towards the other tower. “Eijirou! You’ll never guess what happened to Hitoshi!” 

Hitoshi chuckled at the black girl’s behavior. His eyes wandered for a bit before finding the blonde boy again in the water. Denki was splashing around in the water with his sister, his smile so bright that it stood out against the sunlit ocean. 

A flash of red dove into the water, momentarily drawing Hitoshi’s attention away. A few seconds later, Eijirou’s head popped out of the water, wet hair clinging to his face and over his white headband. He looked over in Hitoshi’s direction and gave him a thumbs up. Hitoshi gave him one back, unable to hear the complaints that came from Eijirou’s mouth. This was the third time he had to save someone in Hitoshi’s zone since he was too distracted by a certain blonde boy. 

Hitoshi did a once over of the sand and water before inevitably being drawn back to Denki and his sister. She was in a yellow inner tube and Denki spun her around in place, causing her to shriek out of joy. His hair was completely wet and fell down to his shoulders in nice waves. Hitoshi admitted that his swim trunks were objectively ugly, but he somehow pulled them off. It could have been the toned abs but Hitoshi was definitely not studying the muscles that looked extremely nice when Denki would emerge from the water. 

He started staring into space, dreaming about the boy, when he heard screaming. The blonde’s voice carried across the ocean as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Yuki, where are you?” 

Hitoshi looked at the inner tube, unsurprised to find empty air where a person should be. She was quite the handful it seemed. A few seconds passed before Hitoshi stood up and dove into the water to search for the lost girl. 

The saltwater stung his eyes slightly while he swam around to find her signature pigtails. He spotted her among the various legs of people and grabbed her arm, pushing her up to the surface of the water before him. 

Once he sprung up, he was met with an angry glare fixed on the small girl’s face who was back in her innertube with Denki in front of her. His back was to Hitoshi when Yuki started yelling at the purple-haired boy. 

“You ruined our game! You’re no fun,” she snipped. 

“Yuki, don’t talk to him like that. He was just making sure you’re safe,” Denki reprimanded in Japanese. 

Denki turned around to apologize to Hitoshi for his sister’s attitude, just to find that his brain had malfunctioned and refused to communicate with his mouth. He must have forgotten how to tread too, because he accidentally plunged down into the water, curing him of his original shock. 

Why were men so attractive? More specifically, purple-haired lifeguards who just came out of the water after saving his sister who didn’t need saving. 

Saltwater filled his mouth and burned his nose as he flailed in the water for a second before propelling himself upward. Choking and sputtering, he grabbed onto Yuki’s tube to stabilize himself while he was in the process of dying. 

Hitoshi watched on with concern. “Are you okay?” 

Denki kept coughing but nodded regardless. “Sorry, I, um, well, we were just-” 

His face was bright red, possibly from his near-death experience, possibly from the hot male in front of him. 

Hitoshi would bet it was the latter. 

He found that flustered Denki was somehow even cuter than beach boy Denki, and the strong desire to fluster him crept up further. He smirked to himself for a split second before swimming closer to Denki and tapping him on the shoulder. He shot a deadly smile at the coughing boy. “Hey, I’m Shinsou Hitoshi, lifeguard on duty right now,” he said in Japanese.

“I know, you told me before,” Denki reflexively replied in his first language, still recovering from the past five minutes of his life. His eyes widened. “You just spoke perfect Japanese?” 

“I did. I was born in Japan and moved here just a few years ago.” Hitoshi looked smug at the fact that he succeeded in rattling the blonde. 

Denki stared at him, trying to remember if he said anything stupid in Japanese while in the presence of the lifeguard. He didn’t think so, but he could never be sure. His coughing fit had finally stopped, and they stared at each other in silence. 

“Your English is really good, Denki,” Hitoshi said, watching a small blush spread on Denki’s cheeks again. 

“Thanks.” 

Did he always have freckles? Hitoshi wondered as he swam closer. 

The romantic moment abruptly ended when Yuki splashed water in both of their faces. 

Hitoshi shook his head to get rid of as much water as possible while Denki just growled at his sister, restraining his desire to splash her back twice as hard. The purple-haired boy noticed this and tugged on the other’s arm. Denki paused his murderous rage to look at Hitoshi. 

“Why don’t I show you around after my shift? Are you in the hotel up there?” Hitoshi asked as he pointed at the large building that loomed over the beach. 

“Yeah, yes I am. Um, sure, what time is that?” Denki stuttered out, cringing at his voice. Now was not the time to be majorly awkward, he scolded himself. He glanced back to see if Yuki was listening. Thankfully, she wasn’t or she just didn’t care. That would be quite a long conversation with his parents, one he definitely preferred not to have soon. 

Hitoshi cracked a smile at the way Denki stumbled over his words. “Around six. I can take you out to dinner at the beach restaurant.” 

“That’s perfect. I’ll meet you here again, yeah?” 

“Sure.”

Denki turned towards his sister who was entertaining herself by spinning in tiny circles. He could never be too careful when it came to boys. “If Mom and Dad ask where I go tonight, you just tell them that I made a new friend, okay?”

“Okay. Can we go back to swimming now?” she asked, looking up to find the pair laughing at her uninterested tone. 

Denki nodded through giggles while Hitoshi waved goodbye to Yuki. She’d warm up to him later if he had anything to say about it. 

Hitoshi swam to shore and walked back to his lifeguard chair. Sand stuck to his wet feet and legs. He tried brushing it off as best he could, but the curse of sand clung to his body like, well, wet sand. He dried his hair and torso off before settling back into his chair. 

Once again, his eyes found Denki whose head was sticking just above the water. He managed to position his sister so that she was sitting on his shoulders. Once she was properly situated, he stood up, boosting her into the warm air. Squeals and shouts came from her mouth as she grabbed onto his hair while Denki spun around. 

He stopped spinning, facing Hitoshi and making eye contact with him across the ocean. Denki grinned and offered a flirty wink before thrusting himself backward and falling into the water with a large splash. They surfaced a few seconds later, laughing and chasing each other around. 

Hitoshi smiled at the boy’s antics and tried to calm his racing heart. 

Someone knocked on his chair leg, pulling Hitoshi out of his thoughts about his future date. It was Eijirou who had come over to notify Hitoshi that he was taking his break now. Hitoshi nodded and watched the other lifeguard walk towards the bar to go talk to Mina. 

“Hey, Eijirou?” Arching his eyebrow in curiosity, the red-haired boy turned around and motioned for his friend to continue. “Do you think I can get off early tonight?” 

“Got a date with a cute blonde?” Eijirou teased. 

“Yeah, something like that,” the lifeguard replied with an uncharacteristically large smile on his face. 

Eijirou had never seen anything like it before.

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 15.5 OR Chapter 16

➜ Words: 2.7k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

It’s getting harder to understand Taehyung. And even harder to comprehend your reaction.

  “Hold my book for a second, dumbo.” He rudely chucks it aside, and you barely manage to catch it. It’s piled on top of the other textbooks you’re holding for him like a maid, the tower tipping back and forth, nearly spilling all to the ground.    Your glare is unforgiving. “Can’t you ask me nicel—”   Taehyung suddenly drops down. “Your shoelaces are untied.”    “O-oh.”   The college student ties your sneakers gingerly, making sure they’re secure. He loops two bunny ears around the knot and then stands up with a smile. “All done! Now you won’t trip. I can’t always be there to catch you.”   Taehyung takes his book off the pile you’re holding and walks off. You’re left staring at his backside before you pick up the pace, unable to help feeling a little perplexed and caught off guard.    It’s becoming increasingly difficult to understand him and predict his actions — but it’s not like they were ever predictable in the first place. He’s always had a knack for spontaneity. It’s your susceptibility to surprise, that’s changed.    “I know you said you weren’t hungry—” Taehyung sits down across the picnic table and slides a brown bag towards you. “—but I got you the jelly doughnut. It was on discount. You liked this one, right?”   “Y-yeah. Thanks.”    You watch him go to town on his hash brown, chomping like a ravenous beast.   You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. You’re not sure what this emotion is. It’s puzzling to pinpoint, challenging and strenuous on your mind. You just know it’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment.    “Oh, look!”   Taehyung’s pointing to your left shoulder. When you look down, you’re unable to see what he’s indicating. Running out of patience and without thinking twice, he leans himself over. You flinch back on natural instinct, but he’s undeterred, paying no mind to the reaction that’s conditioned you since childhood.   You feel his chest hovering above yours, thin lips a millimeter away, and you hold your breath. But Taehyung’s eyes are nowhere near your body; his stare isn’t greasy or purposely flirtatious.    It stays quiet for a moment too long before he draws back.    “It’s a ladybug.” Taehyung shows you with a grin, one that had landed on your shoulder, and one he sets down into the grass behind him. “See you later, little guy.”   You’re absolutely bewildered, though finally able to breathe again.   There are times Taehyung’s unbearably cheesy and teasing, trying to get under your skin or vying for a reaction when he yearns for a kind of attention he receives from nowhere else, much like how he was when he was a kid. But the times that affect you the most are his unintentional actions — when he’s being sincere, genuine, his innocent self.    You’re not sure what to think of it. It’s confusing.   And the worst part is you can’t comprehend Taehyung lately — your own head’s become chaotic and you’re not quite certain of the reason for it.    “Y/N, hang on tight.” Taehyung pedals harder and glances over his shoulder. “The road ahead’s under construction. It’s gonna be bumpy.”   “Want to switch spots?”   “Nope,” he sings. “Just hold onto me.”   You obliged, grasping onto him, locking your wrists together around his waist.    Apparently it’s not enough. “Tighter.”   Your head leans on him, front pressed against his back, holding on. Taehyung laughs, the noise drawing out from his chest, and you can already envision his satisfied grin. “Good.”   You wonder since when his laugh became so melodic and pleasant to listen to.   It seems when he’s not trying whatsoever, he’s the most charming. When Taehyung’s not trying to flirt or retain intense eye contact or shower you in excessive compliments — and instead being his mischievous self, caring in quiet ways without making a whole show about it, laughing and smiling — he’s the most charismatic, much like his dad.   The magnetism that draws people in seems to run through the Kim blood.   Maybe you just never realized it before, but stepping back from your own biases and objectively analyzing him, Taehyung is rather appealing. He has a handful of good traits, and you’ve noticed the way females and males murmur as he walks past or stares across the room, not quite because of malicious rumours either or due to his status.    He’s a tall, strapping, blonde fellow. Even before when he had shaggy hair and was trying to grow a moustache, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. Now that you recognize it, you gotta give it to him...he’s impressive in many ways.   You wonder why you’re only recognizing this now.    Why you didn’t see it sooner.   Maybe your childhoods that overlapped inhibited your perception and clouded your judgment, or perhaps you had learnt to overlook such trivial details.    But if there’s one thing that you’re beginning to learn about Taehyung, it’s that he’s the most attractive when he’s serious. You wish more people saw him like this — they wouldn’t take his words or opinions for granted otherwise.    Though now that you know this, you don’t really need a front row ticket to it...   “You want to what?”   “I want to draw you.”   “Absolutely not.”   “Why?” Taehyung pouts and he doesn’t know it’s because you don’t want him to stare at you intently, because it would be too intimate for your liking. As good as you are at pretending you’re a statue at social events, this is not part of your job description. The last thing you are is a piece of art. “I promise it’ll be quick. Half an hour, tops. I just need a rough sketch of someone as part of my portfolio.”   A sigh befalls your lips. “Can’t you pick someone else?”   “I don’t have anyone else. C’mon, it’s for school. Don’t you have to make sure I’m doing well in my schooling too?”   “But…” You look down at yourself. You’re not one to pay mind to futile things like your outer appearance, but you know you’re not in appropriate attire to be sketched. Once it’s permanently on paper, there’s no going back or reversing time. “I’m not even dressed properly, Taehyung.”   “You look fine,” he emphasizes and reaches over, grabbing your elbow. Taehyung walks you towards the center of the small studio. He turns you away from the sunlight, holds your shoulders and scoots you an inch to his right until it’s to his liking. “There. Good. Now stay still, okay?”   He smiles and struts back, plopping down onto his stool. With a sketchbook in hand, he looks up and begins.    The sound of graphite scratching against the paper fills the space between the four walls. It’s awkward, dreadful as you stare straight at him, and you release your held breath. “Do you want me to pose?”   “No.” There’s a full ten seconds of silence. “Just stay still.”   You feel out of place, stiff. The only thing you do is blink and barely breathe, not wanting to ruin his efforts.   “Can I ask you something, dumbo?” Taehyung mutters out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still pinned to his sketchbook.   “I...guess.”   “It’s kind of a stupid question, but I’m really curious as to what you’ll answer. So….think about it before you answer.” He hesitates for a moment and then goes for the kill. “Would you ever date me?”   “What?” You blink at him, unsure how to answer.   “Don’t move,” he suddenly barks out and you freeze at once, catching yourself halfway to stepping forward. “Thanks. Anyways I said, would you ever hypothetically date me or go out with me?”   “I don’t date.”   “Yeah, but let’s pretend that you did,” he mutters again and doesn’t even look at you properly to read your expression. Taehyung’s still concentrated, brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking past the seam of his lips. His pencil comes out to measure something and then he quickly returns to the sketchbook. It’s not uncomfortable when he’s not full on staring and waiting for you to respond. There’s less pressure when he gives you time to reply.   “Well….that would be highly unprofessional. I’m your bodyguard—”   “Then let’s pretend you’re not,” he says carelessly as if this is small talk or a game of ‘would you rather’ to pass the time and make you less bored.   You hum, unintentionally relaxing in your spot as you give in and consider this what-if scenario he’s handed to you. “In a hypothetical world where I happen to have enough time and commitment to want to even date and I’m not your bodyguard and we happen to run into each other and we got the opportunity to go out….in a non-platonic sense…”   “Yes.”   “I….don’t know.”   “Wow, that’s it?” The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls, but it’s a dangerous question. You’re uncertain of what he wants you to say, what you want to say. The possibility of such a circumstance makes your palms clammy.   “Well, I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “You kind of have to be in the moment to know.”   “Hmmmm, I see.” The artist at work nods to himself. “Interesting.”   As reckless as it is, you find yourself asking, “How about you?”   “Me? Yeah, I’d date you. If you’d even let me.” Taehyung laughs and a smile appears on your face. He announces it like he’s so sure of himself, and it almost makes you...nervous. But you’re probably sweating from the heat of the room. “I don’t see why not.”   “But why me?” you question. “Like you said, I’m emotionally stunted. And I wouldn’t be able to offer you anything.” It doesn’t make sense to you — you’re not exciting, adventurous, or fun. The type of person you imagine Taehyung to be with, you can’t find any shred of it in yourself.    In fact, you feel more like a drag on people’s lives. The sidekick or background character that helps them accomplish one mission and hints them to the next. Never the hero. Most certainly never the love interest.   Taehyung’s hand pauses.   He glances at you with a frown, earnest in his words. “Don’t sell yourself short. Seriously.”   The student continues his sketch. “You’re responsible and hard-working and smart and capable. Most people aren’t like that. They’re not like you. And you keep me grounded. Make sure I don’t make stupid fucking decisions and end up breaking my legs.”   The corner of your mouth pulls again. “Okay, fine. That’s fair. But is it really enough to date me in this hypothetical world?”   “In this hypothetical world,” he pauses to inhale, “Yes. But there’s so much more than that. I wish you knew. I’d be the lucky one here. Not the other way around.”   Your face heats. He gives you more credit than you deserve, but you appreciate the wholehearted praise. For once, he’s not trying to butter you to succumb to whatever he wants, to get you to roll your eyes and banter with him. There’s nothing he can gain from it. It’s meaningful and you’re brought back to the time he told you no one could replace you...   “This is going to sound so lame and I know for a fact it’s one sided,” Taehyung mumbles as his eraser scrapes along the drawing you can’t discern from this distance, “but you’re my best friend, Y/N.”   Your chest is tight and you meet his eyes, staring at each other. His pencil continues to move on the paper, having sketched your curves, the dips of your waist, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips and strands of your hair.   “It’s not one-sided.”   Taehyung smiles.   He looks down and the rest of the time is spent quietly as he tries to finish, focusing. The conversation sinks down onto your shoulders and unlike his promise, it lasts longer than an hour. But you don’t find it difficult to stay in place anymore under his gaze.   Eventually, he finishes and sets his pencil down with a grin. “Good enough. You wanna see?”   “Yes. In case you wasted an hour of my life….” You walk over, dragging your sleeping leg behind you to peer over his shoulder. At once, your expression wipes away.   He looks up at you in worry. “What do you think?”   “It’s….pretty decent,” you admit with an approving nod. “I look so….” Pretty. Happy.    The sketch isn’t so rough as he said it would be. It’s a clear drawing of you, standing with arms behind your back, facial expression melted into a sheepish smile. It’s uncanny to how you remember your mother when you used to look at her, back before she became worn down, cynical, disappointed in how her own life turned out.   You wonder if this is how Taehyung sees you. In a way that’s so lovely and carefree.   “It better be decent. My hand hurts.” He shakes it and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “I’m beat too.”   “Can I get a copy of it? When you’re done….”   Taehyung sets his notebook down on the table and spins around in pleasant shock. “You like it that much?” A stupidly wide grin begins to expand into his cheeks.   You try to shrug casually. “It’s not bad.”   He walks across the room, falling onto the worn sofa in the corner. “I’ll let you have the original when I get it back. Come here.” Taehyung pats a spot beside him, but you glance at the watch on your wrist.   “Shouldn’t we go get dinner?”   “Yeah, but I’m so tired. Let me rest for a second.” Once you give in, moving to sit down beside him, he scoots closer to you. Side-eyeing Taehyung only causes him to smile. “Thanks, dumbo, for letting me draw you.”   “It’s fine. Better than your idea of going bungee jumping.”   “I still wanna do that.”   “Maybe when it’s not my shift.”   “So you can actually join me?”   “So I’m not responsible if something goes wrong.”   He bursts out with a scoff and a laugh before settling down, tearing his eyes away from the profile of your face he had tried to recreate on paper and failed. He shifts to look straight ahead instead. Another thought bubbles to the surface of his consciousness. “In a hypothetical world where we never grew up together, where you weren’t my bodyguard, if I wasn’t the President’s son, and we met here...do you think you’d be my friend?”   “What’s up with you and hypotheticals today?”   “I just wish things were different.”   “Different how?”   “I don’t know,” he says, but you think he does know.   You don’t push him to tell you if he doesn’t want to.   It goes quiet.   Every blink that is taken is heavy. The exhaustion of the day catches up to you, muscles sore, feet aching. But you’re suddenly broken out of your trance when there’s a newfound weight on your shoulder. You flinch from the affection, yet Taehyung stays, chest rising and falling.   He’s leaning on your shoulder, fast asleep.   Your eyes soften, staring at the icy blonde strands of his hair. Your breath steadies and you sigh gently, allowing him to stay.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung’s mouth tugs upwards discreetly, how he sheepishly smiles, noticing the change. Just a month ago, he had tried the same thing and you shoved him off without waiting a single beat….   And just like that, he falls asleep on you, lulled by your scent and warmth.   It’s now that you’re sitting right beside him, peace allowing you to think, that you can finally put your finger on the feeling that’s been brewing inside of you ever since he embraced your body in his bed, underneath his covers, and the pair of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. You know it now. And it brings a whole plethora of emotions washing down on you — confusion, worry, fear.    You’re agitated, muddled, but also more than that. It’s different from annoyance, disenchantment, and the usual disenthrallment. It’s fluster.   Kim Taehyung’s made you flustered.

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: Magic Lessons Part Two

Previous:  Teaser 1 / Teaser 2 / Presentable / The Lion’s Mane  / To Bid You All Welcome: Part One / Part 2 / Part 3 / A Single Bed, A Door With No Lock / Sword Of My Fathers / Flashback: Little Bird, Part One / Little Bird Part Two / Stained Glass, Candles, Empty Stone / Magic Lessons: Part One / Magic Lessons: Interlude

Asher has a visitor.

TW for: underage whumpee; captivity; isolation; implied/referenced/threatened noncon; grooming; gaslighting and manipulation; Morden Crane’s Creepy Vibes

@faewhump @lollyxxxfem also hey if you wanna be tagged in wkw updates please send me a message specifically cause those are the easiest for me to keep track of <3

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If Asher had known to expect the fall of his father’s house, if he hadn’t believed the lies the nobles and staff had raised him on, that the castle was impenetrable, that the walls of Colomur were unbreachable, that the Lion of Colomur was unkillable and the Lady’s magic unbeatable—even if he had known to expect anything, he would not have expected his chief complaint in the first weeks after the end of the world to be boredom.

It’s far from his only complaint, of course. There’s no abundance of food and he’s not felt really full since—well, since even before the siege, so probably in months, now. And generally when he sees the armed Leisevan soldiers in their black armor patrolling the halls of his father’s house he has to sit down quickly because he is immediately shaking from—well, partly anger, and mostly fear.

And occasionally he thinks of his brother’s blank face as he kneels before the Winter King; occasionally he thinks of the clothes they have made his brother wear before the court and all the things they might mean, each one worse than the last, and of how even if there was anything he could do to stop it Andry would not let him because his brother is determined to die for him whether Asher wants him to or not.

But even so, Asher is allowed one hour a day to see his brother, generally under the sardonically watchful eye of the Winter King’s Wolf, upon whom all the hatred in Asher’s heart is currently focused; and the minute Andry is out of his sight Asher begins to feel as though perhaps the world outside the single room they keep him in no longer exists, and maybe never existed.

The room itself is small, equipped with a bed, a small couch, and a chamber pot and washtub. There are two black-armored guards posted at the door at all times, but either they have been instructed not to speak with him or they don’t care to.

They have left Asher his clothes, including the jacket he was wearing when the siege broke, which is emblazoned with his father’s crest embroidered boldly across the back.

For reasons he has had no opportunity or reason to verbalize, Asher has spent the past three days unpicking it with his teeth.

Asher has no reliable way of telling the time, so even though he ought to know better, he looks up with real hope when the door opens, thinking it must somehow be his allotted time with Andry again. Then he freezes, and presses the ruin he’s making of his father’s crest face down on the floor beside him, without really knowing why.

The Winter King is standing in the doorway, looking down at him with tolerant amusement.

Asher has not laid eyes on Morden Crane since he was seated beside him at the banquet, and that was—at least two sunsets ago now. And, crucially, in public. Long before he can identify what he’s feeling, the Winter King smirks down at him—Asher is sitting on the floor in front of the bed, unwashed and really only half decent, at least by his mother’s standards—and plucks the jacket, which Asher has now spent unbroken hours ruining, easily from Asher’s relaxing grip.

The Winter King examines the jacket, smirk widening; mercifully it is now between his face and Asher and Asher uses the opportunity to scramble up off the floor and onto the bed in order to scoot back away from the Winter King as quickly as possible.

“Goodness,” Morden Crane says. “It may not be an elegant crest, but I wouldn’t have thought it as hateful as all that.”

He lowers the jacket to raise his eyebrows at Asher, and Asher can see the center of the embroidered lion’s face torn to shreds. He did it himself, but seeing it in Crane’s hands makes him immediately sick.

“Feeling a bit restive, are we, Prince?”

Asher glares up at the Winter King. The man is, as always, tall and handsome and immaculately neat, every strand of his long black hair in place, expression lightly amused but mostly serene and unbothered. Asher lifts his chin, determined not to be afraid. “What are you doing here?”

Morden sets the jacket on the back of the couch, patting it with mocking gentleness. Then he spreads his hands and smiles at Asher, his face mild and open and dangerous.

“I’m here to see you, of course,” the Winter King says.

Asher stares at him, alarmed.

“It occurred to me that you’ve had little room to run since our families have come together. A growing boy needs space to move about, I imagine.” Morden’s black eyes glitter, as if at a private joke at Asher’s expense. “Perhaps you’d like to take a turn of the gardens with me, Prince.”

Asher’s heart hammers in his chest. The knowledge that it must be a trap does him no good, because he cannot imagine what such a trap’s object might be. Andry, he thinks desperately, would know, would see immediately what the Winter King is playing at, but Asher has never been clever like Andry is, and the longer Crane stands before him the more he is certain of nothing except that he is afraid.

He shakes his head, because his tongue is too thick in his mouth to speak well.

Morden Crane looks at Asher, apparently without anger, and sighs a little. “Prince,” he says, “really. It gives me no pleasure to be feared and hated by those with whom I have no quarrel. Politics may have started us off on the wrong foot, but it needn’t make us lifelong enemies.”

“You killed my father,” Asher says flatly.

Morden sighs, making a conceding gesture with his gloved hand. “A difficult start, I’ll grant. My Harpy is excitable; her orders were to take the Lion alive. In fairness, you must agree the Lion’s temper allowed for little diplomacy.”

It is, in a terrible way, true. Even if Crane hadn’t ordered Audoine killed, Asher knows his father too well to imagine him being taken alive; he’d have died first out of spite alone.

It also barely matters anymore. Asher is too sick with worry about the living to question the treatment of the dead.

Asher shifts forward, gripping the edge of the bed, and meets the Winter King’s black eyes, as fearlessly as he can manage.

“Crane,” he says, and doesn’t shrink back when Morden raises his eyebrows at the address. “Answer, and don’t lie to me.” Asher cannot spot a lie like Andry, but he thinks he will know this, to his bones. “Winter King. Have you touched my brother?”

Morden blinks, and then bursts out a laugh, apparently startled, as though at a ridiculous question. “Me?” he says. “Darling. No.”

Asher searches the Winter King’s face. Morden lets him look, with nothing more than amusement.

“Then I’ll go with you,” Asher says, and hopes the condition is clear in his voice.

If the Winter King wants to walk to gardens with him—for reasons Asher can’t fathom, but which he isn’t naïve enough to imagine he will like—Asher can give him that, at least for now. Andry may be determined to die for him, but two can play that game.

Asher braces himself for some overt humiliation—Andry is never permitted to walk the halls without being leashed like a dog—but Morden Crane only glides serenely over to the door, nods when the guards snap to attention, and raises his eyebrows back at Asher, beckoning when Asher doesn’t immediately follow.

Asher approaches cautiously, and Crane gestures him ahead, the motion slightly too grand to be anything but mocking. Asher stares at the guards—if they are laughing at least he will know better what he is being led to—but they must be trained specially to show nothing on their faces, and their black Leisevan uniforms still send a shiver down Asher’s spine—enough that he takes half a step closer to Crane before he realizes what he's doing, and would stumble into the Winter King if Crane didn’t obligingly drop a black-gloved hand onto his shoulder to steady him.

Asher goes rigid at the Winter King’s touch, all thoughts of self-sacrifice driven immediately from his head by skin-crawling panic.

Crane withdraws his hand easily, and even steps back to give Asher more space, and his burst of laughter is harsh enough that it might actually be sincere.

“Relax, Prince,” Crane says. “Gakne knows I’ve no interest in touching you either.”

Asher takes a breath to try to slow his hammering heartbeat, ashamed of his own lack of resolve, and squares his shoulders, stands tall like Andry used to stand in front of their father.

Crane watches him with open amusement, and then turns and sweeps down the hallway, not even turning to see if Asher will follow.

Not that Asher has any choice, with the two guards still standing at attention mere feet behind him. He scurries after the Winter King, and leash or no he feels like a dog at heel.

After days in one room, the sunlight nearly blinds him, and he is immediately shivering in his tatty undershirt, no longer used to the autumn breeze. Crane has led him out a side door into the courtyard, and watches him shake with the same amused smirk with which he seems to look at everything, and Asher only barely keeps from glaring at him.

Then the Winter King says, “Here, boy,” and reaches for the jeweled clasp at his throat, and before Asher can protest, Crane has swung his great black cloak around Asher’s shoulders; for a moment the warmth is such a relief that he almost pulls it closer.

He remembers Andry’s bared shoulders in front of his father’s court, the jeweled band around his throat, Andry’s bowed head and shaking hands.

Asher shrugs the cloak off, hard; the material is thick and costly and it smacks heavily into the dirt, raises a cloud of dust.

He can practically hear Andry’s horrified voice in his head and knows he should stop before he’s gone too far to come back, but he has never been as strong as Andry. Asher spits at the Winter King’s feet, instead.

Then he stares up at the Winter King, who has raised his perfect brows very high, and prays he doesn’t die looking frightened.

Then the Winter King smirks again, and opens his gloved hands in amused surrender. “You’re welcome to freeze, if you’d prefer,” he says, and stoops easily to retrieve his cloak, folding it over his arm, as if to show off how little the cold bothers him, and turns to lead Asher through the garden.

Asher feels tears prick at his eyes, though he doesn’t know why. When the Winter King begins to pick his way through the flower beds, he follows.

----

Riding high on the aftermath of one of Thorne’s “lessons,” it’s easy enough for Morden to be merciful. And as no one else is present in the homely little courtyard garden to witness the child’s outburst, it’s certainly no skin off Morden’s nose. Quite the opposite, really.

Still, it’s a delicate situation, maybe more than he anticipated. The younger Prince isn’t so much older than his Thorne was, when he first found him; yet apparently a few years can make a world of difference in the attitude of a teenage boy. And, of course, his work with Thorne had the advantage of novelty: no one had offered Thorne a soft word or a hot meal before Morden; the little Prince, in contrast, has clearly been spoiled, by his brother if not by the dead Lion. It’s an entirely different proposition, really.

Still, Morden thinks, basking in magic like a cat in the sun, he can afford to be patient. The little Prince is only a backup, and Morden has plenty of time.

[wordsintimeandspace]

Better With You (6/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

Crowley let out a long breath as he logged out of the last video conference of the week and closed his laptop. They had made it. A whole week of hiding and lying and deceiving, and all of it had paid off. They’d managed to keep their secret. Most of the week had gone by smoothly, after their rough start on Monday, but Crowley was still relieved. He hadn’t been able to shake the residual anxiety of being discovered completely, especially since Hastur kept pestering him about his secret boyfriend. Crowley wasn’t sure what pissed him off more - the invasive questions or that Hastur was actually right for once.

A knock on the door made Crowley look up, and he smiled as he took in Aziraphale standing in the doorframe.

“All done?” Aziraphale asked, answering Crowley’s smile with a blinding one of his own, as if they hadn’t seen each other all day instead of spending over an hour in an awkward video conference with Gabriel and Beelzebub earlier.

Crowley nodded and stretched his hands over his head, making his spine pop. “Yeah. Last bits of software testing done, documentation written, project successfully deployed to the client.”

Aziraphale crossed the room to wrap his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Very good.”

“How about you?”

“I’m on call for the rest of the day, but unless there’s any problems I’m all ready for the weekend.”

“Good. Do you still want to join me when I stop by my place?”

“Yes. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Angel.” Crowley glanced up at him, covering Aziraphale’s hands on his shoulders with his own. “Course I do.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were gleaming, filled with tenderness. “Good. Are you hungry? We could order dinner before we leave, or wait until we’re back.”

“Not really,” Crowley admitted. He grinned up at Aziraphale. “You’re still keeping me well fed with all your baked goods. Terrible for my blood sugar, you are.”

“You don’t have to eat them, you know,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“Can’t let them go bad, can I? Would be such a waste of food.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. “How kind of you to make this sacrifice. Come on then,” he said as he pulled Crowley to his feet. “Let’s go water your plants before I change my mind.”

~~~

It felt strange, to step back into his dimly lit flat. It had only been a week since he’d been there, but the dark, sparsely furnished corridor was such a stark contrast to Aziraphale’s cluttered and welcoming space that it almost felt like he was entering a stranger’s home instead of his own. Crowley let out a shuddering breath, nervously fiddling with the keys in his hand before stepping aside to let Aziraphale in as well.

The door fell shut behind them with a heavy thud. Quietly, Aziraphale let his gaze wander over the blank walls. “Oh, it’s, err… nice,” he eventually said, but Crowley could see the crease on his face even in the dim light.

Crowley snorted. “No it’s not, you don’t have to pretend. Come on.”

He led Aziraphale through the corridor into the main part of the flat, his steps echoing from the walls. He ignored both the living room and the bedroom as they passed it, mind focused only on the sole thing he had missed during his week at Aziraphale’s place.

The evening sun fell through the high windows of the plant room, painting the room in golden light. Crowley smiled as he took in the comforting sight of his plants and the familiar smell of soil. He held open the door for Aziraphale, gesturing him to step inside first.

“Ohh,” Aziraphale breathed out in wonder as he slowly wandered into the room. “Oh, Crowley, they’re beautiful.”

The praise ran down Crowley’s spine like a shiver. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he took in Aziraphale, his eyes gleaming as sunlight danced over his cheeks. Aziraphale stepped closer to a monstera that grew high towards the ceiling, and brushed his fingers over a leaf with such a gentleness that Crowley felt a short, irrational pang of jealousy.

“They could do better,” he hissed as he stepped at Aziraphale’s side, squinting at the plant. “I see some drooping leaves. I will not stand for drooping leaves.”

“Oh, do be nice to them,” Aziraphale protested. “It’s a hard time for all of us.”

“There are leaf spots, angel. They know exactly what I think about leaf spots.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I’m sure they’re trying their best. Just like we all do. They just need a bit of love and support, and they will be right as rain.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s eyes on him, even as he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Suddenly, he had the unsettling feeling they weren’t just talking about the bloody monstera Aziraphale was still petting. He let out a strangled sound from the back of his throat.

“Water,” he croaked out. “I’ll get some water.” And with that, he grabbed the plant mister and the watering can and stormed out of the room.

Aziraphale was still tending to the plants when he came back, murmuring something under his breath that Crowley couldn’t quite make out. Slowly, he wandered around the room to check on each plant, testing the soil and watering them, searching each leaf for any sign of damage, gently spraying them with water until they were shining in the golden evening light. Most of the plants were in good condition, as lush and beautiful as ever, but a few of them were a little limper than he’d like. He tried to swallow his bad conscience for abandoning them in such a hurry for a whole week.

“I think I’ll have to check on them a little more often,” Crowley said eventually, breaking the companionable silence between them. “Can’t trust these buggers to stay in line without me.”

“You could just move them to my place,” Aziraphale suggested, and Crowley froze in the middle of misting a ficus. He turned to Aziraphale, eyes wide.

“What?” he croaked out.

Aziraphale startled, as if he was only now realizing what he’d said. A blush crept onto his cheeks “I, oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t just presume,” he stammered. “I just thought, well, that what we’re doing might be a long-term solution. I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay indefinitely of course, I’d understand if you’d want to go back to your flat once they lift some of the restrictions, or even before that-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted him. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. Not getting on your nerves yet, am I?”

Crowley laughed. “No. Course not. Am I?”

“Definitely not.”

Grinning, Crowley set down the plant mister and stepped closer to Aziraphale. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I was under the impression that I had already done it one week ago.”

Affection bloomed in Crowley’s chest, so sweet it was almost suffocating, and he crossed the last distance between them in two long strides. Cupping Aziraphale’s face in his hands, he pressed his lips down to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale’s arms were around his waist in just an instant. He angled his head, making it easier for them to slide their lips together, and let out a happy sigh against Crowley’s lips.

No matter how many times they had kissed over the last week, this kind of contact still sent a thrill through Crowley. He felt utterly and completely addicted to Aziraphale’s gentle touch, to his soft lips and his strong arms around him. Crowley had lost track of how many hours they had spent like this already, kissing just for the kissing’s sake, to be close to each other and to explore each other’s lips, instead of taking it as a first step to something more. Aziraphale had been more than happy to let Crowley set the pace over the week, never pushing, never asking for more, but tonight Crowley craved more contact. Aziraphale’s body suddenly couldn’t be close enough.

Carefully, without ever breaking the kiss, Crowley steered Aziraphale through the room until his back hit the window. Aziraphale let out a gasp of surprise, but readily adjusted his stance so that Crowley could step between his legs and press him against the glass properly. Crowley groaned at the friction, pulling away from Aziraphale’s lips only to pepper kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He was just loosening the bow tie to get better access when he was startled by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He let out another groan, an exasperated one this time, and pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as he waited for the irritating caller to give up.

“Don’t you want to take this?” Aziraphale asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“No. Ignore it,” Crowley mumbled, once again tugging at Aziraphale’s bow tie. But as soon as he finally got it off him, they were interrupted by Aziraphale’s shrill ringtone. Crowley startled at the sudden noise, jumping a step back. A pained expression crossed Aziraphale’s face as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Let me just turn this off and we can- oh.”

“What?” Crowley frowned as he watched Aziraphale’s face turn white.

“It’s Gabriel. I need to call back.”

Before he could, Crowley’s phone vibrated again. He swore under his breath as he dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His stomach dropped as he saw who it was. Beelzebub.

He raised head to meet Aziraphale’s worried gaze.

“Shit.”

“Do you think they know?” Aziraphale asked, his voice wavering.

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted, reaching out to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. “But it’s gonna be okay, angel. We’re in this together, yeah?”

A small smile appeared on Aziraphale’s lips. “Yes. Together,” he said, squeezing Crowley’s hand in return.

~~~

To Crowley’s relief, Gabriel and Beelzebub had not called to confront them both with their fraternizing. Not that it mattered. The alternative didn’t seem much better, Crowley had to admit. Maybe he would be transferred to Siberia after all.

“... not sure yet what the exact problem was, but the setup of our software crashed their entire server,” Gabriel explained, the tension on his face clear even through the small screen and the blurry camera. “It’s all down, even their website. They’re trying to restart the main server right now.”

“I don’t know how that could have happened!” Crowley protested, panic rising in his chest. “We did all the required software tests. Dagon approved my code, for fucks sake. This shouldn’t be possible.”

“It doesn’t matter how,” Beelzebub hissed, making Crowley flinch. He was glad he wasn’t in the same room with them, but their irritation made his skin crawl even from the distance. “It only matters that we find the bug and fix it. And hope there isn’t some irreversible data loss.”

“Don’t they have a backup? Or set up their server permissions properly? Even if there is a problem in the code, they should have security measures to make sure a stupid piece of software doesn’t just melt their whole IT infrastructure.”

“We’re not sure what their internal IT did. We’re trying to get a hold on them,” Aziraphale said. He nervously wrung his hands in front of his belly. “It’s proving to be a little difficult. They’re busy with getting things running again.”

“Even if part of the problem is on their side, it’s still our job to fix this,” Gabriel continued with a pained expression on his face. “This is one of our most important customers. We can’t afford to lose them over this, not in the current economy.”

Crowley groaned, letting his head loll back. “Great. Fucking fantastic.”

“Crowley, calm down,” Beelzebub snapped, glaring at him. “I’m waiting for a call from our system administration to see if they can help, but in the meantime, stop whining and make yourself useful. Double-check the code. Triple-check it, if necessary.”

Crowley took a deep breath. All he wanted was to sink into Aziraphale’s arms, at least for a moment until he felt calm enough to face this mess. But with Gabriel and Beelzebub watching, it didn’t matter that Aziraphale was just in the other room. He might as well be miles away. Aziraphale’s frown grew more and more concerned as Crowley struggled to answer, so he forced himself to put on a brave face.

“Okay,” he breathed out, pulling up the code to get to work.

Crowley had barely started when the ringtone of a phone sounded over the speaker, the sudden noise making him jump. He switched back to the video conference just in time to see Gabriel snatch up a phone, frowning at the screen.

The next moments felt like a dream, or a hallucination maybe, so bizarre that Crowley’s brain struggled to keep up and understand what was really happening. He watched as Gabriel let out a sigh. “System administration,” he said, and Crowley had barely time to wonder why they would call Gabriel instead of Beelzebub when both of them reached out at the same time. He couldn’t see the brush of hands, but he doubted he would believe it even if he could. He already struggled to wrap his head around the fact that Beelzebub suddenly had the phone in their hand, picking up before bringing it to their ear.

Crowley stared, his mouth hanging open. He was vaguely aware that Aziraphale stared as well. Beelzebub got up and walked away from the conference as they took the call, shortly appearing in the background of Gabriel’s video before vanishing out of sight. Gabriel seemed unbothered, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Aziraphale was the first to break the silence. “But- I mean… what? Gabriel?” he stammered.

Gabriel looked up into the camera. “Yes?”

“How- why- I mean… are you two in the same room?”

“Of course.” Gabriel laughed, as if the idea wasn’t just completely bonkers. Crowley still couldn’t bring his face to work properly, let alone form any coherent words. “We have been since lockdown started. Didn’t you notice?”

Aziraphale only gaped at him. Crowley finally managed to regain control of his features and snapped his mouth shut. “But… you hate each other,” he exclaimed after Gabriel didn’t elaborate.

Gabriel shrugged. “Well. Only sometimes. Not generally.”

“Then what is this… this thing,” Crowley protested, gesturing wildly in an attempt to encompass the peculiarity that was Gabriel and Beelzebub. “Whatever it is that you’re usually doing? That thing where you look like you want to tear each other apart in every single meeting?”

“Oh, that’s nothing serious.” Gabriel shot them a toothy smile and, to Crowley’s utter horror, winked at them. “A little workplace rivalry can do wonders to keep a relationship exciting, let me tell you.”

“Relationship?!” Aziraphale cried out, suddenly thrown out of his stupor.

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you think we’re spending lockdown together, Aziraphale?”

“But… relationships in the company are forbidden! It says so in the policies!” Aziraphale protested.

“That only applies to an employee and their supervisor within the same department. You know, to prevent any abuse of power. Have you actually read the policies?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut before any sound left his throat. All the colour drained from his face.

Crowley could only stare at him. He had never bothered to read the blasted policies. He’d always taken Aziraphale’s word for it. “You haven’t?! Honestly?” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“I thought you did!” Aziraphale cried. ”It was you who brought it up the first time, wasn’t it?”

“No! Definitely wasn’t me!” Crowley yelled. Only then, in the silence that followed, did he realize what they’d just admitted. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach twisting in anxiety, but instead of looking surprised, or angry even, Gabriel only laughed.

“You thought this was forbidden? Really? Is that why you’re pretending you’re not in the same place?”

“We’re not, we’re-” Crowley stammered, at a loss of words. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “You knew?!”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Not with the way you’ve both been looking at each other for months.”

“But… you could have told us!” Aziraphale protested, the colour slowly returning to his face.

Gabriel barked out another laugh. “What, and disturb whatever Romeo and Juliet reenactment you had going on? Please. It kept the office entertained and the attention away from Bee and me. Do you know there’s a betting pool on when you’ll finally get together? I think I’m about to win fifty quid.”

Crowley sagged in his chair, not sure what else to say. Aziraphale seemed at a loss of words as well. They were both saved from coming up with a response when Beelzebub suddenly reappeared.

Beelzebub took in the awkward silence and Gabriel’s amused smile. “What happened?” they buzzed.

“Nothing,” Crowley said quickly, not very keen to discuss their relationship any further. “What did they say?”

Beelzebub blinked, not looking convinced, but didn’t press the issue. “The system administration people had a look at the logs, and they think it was a problem with how computing resources were allocated on the client’s system, together with a memory leak caused by a different program. The setup of our software was just the last straw for their already overwhelmed system. They’re sending someone over to help sort this out.”

Crowley let out a long breath. “Nothing wrong with our software, then?”

“Probably not,” Beelzebub buzzed, before fixing Crowley with another stern glare. “I still want another code review before they try to set it up again. But that can wait until next week.”

They finally said their goodbyes, both Crowley and Aziraphale still quiet and trying to avoid Gabriel’s smug smile. As soon as he had closed the video conference, Crowley sagged in his chair. He felt tired, all of a sudden, and angry, just a little bit, that all this worrying had been for nothing. But most of all he felt relief. He got to his feet on shaking legs to get to the kitchen, only to run into Aziraphale right in the corridor. They silently looked at each other for a moment before Crowley lunged forward.

“I’m mad at you,” he groaned, even as he buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Honestly. I can’t believe you.”

Aziraphale held him close, his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and his nose pressed into his hair. “It was both our fault, really.”

“Was it?! You honestly expected me to read the blasted policies?”

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “You could at least have double-checked what I was saying.”

Crowley only grumbled in response.

“Crowley, do you realize what this means?”

“What?”

Aziraphale pulled back, enough to cup Crowley’s face in his hands and kiss him long and deep before speaking. “We’re free to be together in any way we want to, without consequences, without repercussions. I can talk about you, call you my partner, without worrying who might hear. I get to hold your hand, and I get to kiss you, without worrying who might see. I don’t have to hide my affection. I could tell the whole world how much I love you.”

Crowley’s breath hitched. Tears burned in his eyes as he held Aziraphale’s gaze, drowning in his gleaming eyes, oh so blue and filled to the brim with affection. “I love you too,” he croaked out, and Aziraphale’s answering smile was bright like a star. He pressed his lips back down onto Crowley’s, passionate and hungry in a way that made Crowley’s head swim. For a second Crowley feared his legs would give out, but Aziraphale held him close, held him upright, just like he had done over the past week after it had felt like Crowley’s entire world had crumbled around him.

“Angel?” he murmured between kisses, as they slowly moved towards the bedroom.

“Yes, my darling?” Aziraphale purred as he led Crowley inside, coming to a stop beside the bed.

“I’m just- I’m just so glad you’re here,” Crowley gasped. “That I’m not alone anymore in all this mess.“

“Like you said earlier, we’re in this together, ” Aziraphale said softly, smiling brightly as he steered Crowley down onto the mattress. And Crowley let himself fall, closing his eyes, knowing that he would be caught, would be taken care of.

[fnaficsfordays]

When Dawn Breaks...

Chapter 8

Previous chapter, Sequel

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1680

He stared at the blossoms, swimming in the clear water, indigo petals scattered throughout the glass bowl. In his hand was an open piece of paper, covered in inky words. Despite the sun starting to rise outside, piercing through the blinds, he remained in the dim light.

A knock at the closed door. He didn’t respond, only setting down the letter besides him on the bed.

“Michael… it’s time.”

With a ragged sigh, he picked up the bowl out of his lap, slowly carrying it over to the nightstand. He looked at them longingly for a moment. They all seemed so fresh, so beautiful… it was hard to believe that they were over a month old, let alone that they had been made in such a terrible way. He picked up the small set of flowers laying besides the bowl, holding them loosely in his fingers as he walked towards the door.

He slowly opened it up, nodding slightly at the two people standing outside. He walked past them, through his house and towards the open front door. He briefly shut his eyes as he stepped out into the early morning sunlight, before taking a breath and continuing to walk. He opened the car door, glancing back at the two again.

“We’ll be right behind you.” Scott spoke calmly. Jeremy gave a tiny nod.

“Yeah… alright.” Michael stepped inside, starting up the engine. He gently set down the flowers next to him, trying not to look at them for too long.

Soon enough, he was heading down the road, turning into an unknown area of the town. He finally spotted the fence, surrounding dozens upon dozens of stones, engraved lettering sitting on each one.

Finally, he parked the car, scooping the bouquet back up as he got out. Scott and Jeremy were stepping out of their own ride, walking towards the gate. Michael joined them, pushing open the metal bars.

Near the back, a large sycamore tree stood in the soil, the branches spread around the air. He made his way there, not glancing at the others anymore. He stepped around the gravestones, his grip on the flowers tightening as he got closer.

Finally. He set a hand on the tree trunk, peering around the back, out of view from the rest of the graves. Sure enough, a white stone sat there, nestled by the roots of the tree poking through the soil. As he looked at it, he could see the name engraved deep.

Vincent Scourge, 1958-1985

He breathed out a small sigh of relief upon reading it. It was good that his request to alter the name had gone through. He’d always be Vincent to him, no matter what sat upon the legal records.

“They got it right?” Scott joined him, blue eyes filled with a calm sadness.

“They did.” He replied. “It’s all good.”

“I’m glad.” Scott glanced at him for a moment before setting down a single black rose upon the stone. “He would like it much more than his legal last name.”

“He sure would.” Michael gave a dry chuckle. “Never did like following the law, huh?”

“Definitely not.” He gave a small smile. “But with the job that we all shared… he was quite the relief every night.” He stood back from the gravestone, backing away.

“I wish I hadn’t been so scared of him.” Jeremy mumbled, twisting his own flower in his hands. “He was just… unfortunate, but I just forgot that we shared the same job, and we did the same things…”

“You don’t need to be guilty about this.” Scott said gently. “Although I wish things could have turned out differently… perhaps this was for the best. For all of us.”

Jeremy gave a small nod, setting down his flower. “Still… he wasn’t just an insane person, and… I guess I wish I could have seen that and shown a bit more… sympathy.”

“We all do.” Michael sighed. “Even all those damn acts that he would pull… hell, we were all driven to this place since we came from nothing. We came here because we hit rock bottom… but he was the only one that was trying to not stay so low.”

“We did.” Scott murmured. “It definitely wasn’t… an average working relationship that we built in there.”

“A friendship built on surviving haywire animatronics every night.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I still remember what he told me that Friday, before we… found him, and that conversation about his past.”

“He said more about it?”

“He… said that he really had no one. He was sent to a lab as a kid, and… he doesn’t even remember his parents. His first memories were of that place, he grew up in social isolation. He never had anyone or anything, not even himself… he wasn’t ever given a name.”

“So that’s why you put in that request.”

“Yeah.” Michael swallowed. “He found out his parents didn’t want to take him back in after learning the scientists couldn’t figure out his skin color. He escaped after five years, didn’t know how to integrate into society, didn’t have a sense of humanity… had to build up his own life alone and shunted.

“And the worst thing is just that… he wasn’t bothered by it. He kept on telling me he didn’t care, that it was just some setbacks to him now…” He took in a shaky breath. “He was just conditioned to be twisted, and he didn’t… fully realize it. Because he’d never known anything else.”

The air was silent afterwards. Michael barely noticed that he was now kneeling in front of the stone, staring numbly at the letters. With a trembling hand, he finally put his own flowers on the soil, the violet roses standing out against the white stone.

“I never… I wondered why he was the way he was sometimes, but I… don’t think I ever would have guessed all of that.” Jeremy’s whisper was quiet, but it stood out in the silent air.

“I wouldn’t have known either unless I asked him.” He said. “When I did… he just told me everything, wasn’t trying to hold back or anything… he was just so relaxed to talk about such a disturbing part of his life, and I… just…”

“He was more than a maniac.” Scott stated.

“He was so much more than a maniac.” Michael repeated. Much more than anyone else will ever know.

“While the circumstances that brought the four of us together were… unfortunate, to say the least, the companionship was much more than I ever would have expected in such a dark place.” Scott said.

“Kind of ironic how even though he’s partially the reason that it’s so dark, he also brought it back up, huh?” He sighed.

“He did.” Jeremy clasped his hands together tightly. “Maybe that’s why he tried to bring it back up.”

“I can believe that.” Michael chuckled, still staring at the stone. I definitely can.

“Farewell to an old friend, even if I didn’t find him to be too friendly.” Scott murmured.

“Y-yeah...”

Michael nodded slightly. “You two… can go ahead, I have a bit more that I just… want to say alone.”

“Do you want us to just wait at the cars?”

He shook his head. “No need to stay any longer… I’ll be able to get back home on my own. Thanks for… for coming, even if it’s just us three.”

“Of course.” Scott nodded, Jeremy giving a small wave. They headed out from the tree, walking towards the gates. Michael only watched them for a moment before his eyes drifted back to the stone.

He bit his lip, swallowing deeply. There was so much to say, so much to do… but it would all come too late. A week too late to save him- to love him.

“I’m sorry.” He started, reaching out a hand to touch the soft petals of the flowers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. You might be fine with dying of a broken heart… but I wish you had chosen the surgery.”

He sighed. “Or if… I could have fallen in love. It’s… impossible now, I know that, but… maybe things could have worked out in the best way. Either way, I… just wish that I didn’t have to find out about your feelings like this.

“But I won’t forget. Any of it. I don’t think it’ll ever leave my memory… it just feels like it’s impossible, you know? I still can’t completely get over why you would have fallen for me, out of anyone… what did I ever do, other than be there?

“Maybe that’s why.” Michael murmured. “If your past was anything to go by… all the pranks I put up with, all those antics… They were good times. For both of us. It’s still hard to believe that there won’t ever be those moments again, and all my nights will be spent in silence now… you really did light up the place, you know? You… you lit up me, too.

“The knife tower… finding the collection in the drawer… locking me out of the office when I was late… you sure brightened up the nights in your own way.” He gave a sad chuckle. “Maybe if I’d found out about your disease earlier… but it’s over now.”

He wiped at his eyes, feeling the tears rolling down. “But even if I don’t love you in that way… you were still a great friend to have all those nights. I’ll keep a hold on that letter, and those flowers… I’ll always remember. I promise.”

His shoulders slumped for a brief moment, before he slowly started to stand up. He didn’t even bother to wipe off the dirt on his pants, giving the stone a long, bittersweet look, before stepping out from behind the tree. Michael made his way down back towards his car, the pricks of grief and sadness still holding on. But he took it all in with a deep breath, stepping through the gate, gently shutting it behind him, the sun rising above the horizon.

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [5/?]

The Wife || Ch 5 ~ 4.1 k || Ch 1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 || FF.NET&AO3 Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?A/N: Alright, time to start bringing some things into the light.  First, there is a slight possible trigger in this chapter but it's also a pretty big spoiler so you can check it out in the notes at the end, if you wanna be prepared. Second, just on the off chance that anyone side-eyes Emma in this chapter - you're totally entitled to it but I'd just like to point out that considering the (vague) time period of this piece and what and to whom she is revealing, she is actually being pretty strong and stoic. And lastly, the touching is off the charts yo (you know, by this fic's standards :D).

No good day starts with bloodstains on your bedspread and a pulsing pain in your lower back but, like with much else in her life, Emma tries to make the best of it. She asks Ruby to heat some water for her and rubs her hands together to bring some warmth into them, knowing all the while these next few days her soul will feel even more coldly received in her body than usual.

She pulls on the heavy doors of her overly large wardrobe to pick as dark a dress as appropriate for a sunny day and pulls her hair away from her face in a shape she hopes is acceptable for suffering silently in the comforts of one’s home.

*****

She fixes her sympathetic eyes on the woman leaning as close to the stove as safety will allow to seek some alleviation of her present condition.

“Surely you will be more comfortable in your room. I can come right up and get the fire going.”

“Oh, no, it’s alright. It’s not cold at all.”

That it is not – it is a perfectly sunny day for early September but Ruby has quickly learnt that “It isn’t cold” does not equal “I’m not cold” when it comes to their new mistress.

“Have you had a chance to enjoy the swing in the garden?”

Emma turns to look out of the window.

“There is a swing in the garden?”

“Oh, yes. It’s at the very edge of it but it’s quite perfect,” Ruby smiles and dusts off her hands before she urges Emma to follow her outside.

It’s indeed a perfectly pleasant day, though Ruby can’t help but feel like the air is much too thick and still, as if hunkering down and preparing for one of the first storms of the season. She makes a note to hang the last of the laundry and gather the flowers that will surely be ruined, if left outside for the first rain.

“When she was young, Alice refused to lie down for a nap inside when the sun was shining. And then she would fall asleep on picnic blankets or right on the grass before we could so much as bring her a pillow.”

She sneaks a glance at Emma’s smiling face and feels something soft and hopeful bloom in her chest. She and Granny have always done their best for Alice with pleasure and devotion but Ruby can’t help but feel like a weight has been slowly slipping off her shoulders ever since Emma arrived.

“So Captain Jones had the swing put up – just far enough so that the noise in the house wouldn’t wake her but close enough that we could watch over her. And large enough to fit a child and heavy enough not to topple over,” she adds with a chuckle.

They take a turn and right there, behind the apples trees, the black, iron cast swing sits, bathed in sunlight, the way Ruby hoped it will be. One look at Emma tells her that she has found the perfect spot for her mistress to pass the worst of those days of the month that every woman has to bear.

“Let me just fetch you some pillows and a blanket.”

*****

She mustn’t forget to thank Ruby for bringing her here. As the sun shines down on her midsection, Emma almost feels comfortable in her body for the first time today. She has to give credit to Killian, the swing is positioned perfectly – benefitting from the best of the warm sunshine, the smell of fruit and flowers just out of reach and the lush green views to the side. It is not at all a hard task to picture a cherub-like Alice running around and refusing to be brought indoors and lose even a second of the summer days.

Yet, the pleasant image brings a sudden stab of pain that is much worse than the dull ache she has been suffering all day. She tries to chase it away the way she has learnt to do but the damage is done and the fragility of the present is not as easy to dismiss as the immutability of the past.

Just like in this very moment, Emma has started to become much too comfortable in this space that miraculously seems to have a place for her. She has done a terribly good job of avoiding the stone that can still trip her and send her hurtling into the dark unknown that she can only speculate about in her nightmares.

The worry of what may follow has been keeping her carefully and obediently in check but the guilt of what is rears to the forefront now, as she lies in the iron cast evidence of what a wonderful father Killian Jones is.

“Do you need to be rocked to sleep as well?”

She startles horribly and the only thing that saves her from toppling to the ground is that Ruby was right and the swing has indeed been made to keep its cargo safe.

Killian’s hand takes a hold of one end and stops the last of the wobbling as Emma tries to slow the thunder beating of her heart. She looks up and frowns at the bowl cradled in his left elbow before she realizes that he must’ve had to quickly free his right hand.

“I see Ruby didn’t teach you how to use one of these before she gave you free reign over it.”

Half an hour ago, she would’ve laughed. Half an hour ago, the bowl of cut peaches and apples he passes to her now would’ve made her heart flutter pleasantly. But neither the bird song, nor Killian’s sparkling eyes above her can make her heart feel less burdened and twisted up right now. Only she can do that.

“Emma, are you alright? Ruby said you were indisposed but I didn’t think—“

She flushes a little, thinking that this particular subject must certainly be taboo between most husbands and wives, even ones that have been intimate. But then she considers and realizes anew that, in the absence of a truly caring mother, Killian has probably been too good a father to his daughter to remain ignorant on such matters.

She twists around and rises to a sitting position fast enough that he stumbles back a step. She doesn’t even let herself take a proper breath, she can’t allow the worry of what will follow to cower her into silence once again.

“I must tell you now.”

She must, should have done it a dozen times already, should have done it before he tied himself to her, should certainly do it before he allows his whole family to publicly stand beside her, should do it before there is no turning back even if turning back will cost her more than she can afford and comprehend.

She sees the moment the gravity of it, of whatever is in her voice, reaches Killian. The sparkle is tempered as if pouring water over fire, his mouth thins out into a perfectly straight line and all but the most permanent lines on his face smooth out as if to hide away the very humanity, the very vulnerability, of him. His shoulders straighten to give him his full height and the ability to take on whatever she intends to put on them. He has been in battle and he knows how to prepare for an attack.

From where she is sitting, he is an intimidating sight, but it is the fact that he manages so quickly to raise a defense against her that causes Emma’s heart to shrink even further within her – if it could escape the prison of her entirely, it probably would have done so long ago.

“Could you… could you sit down?” she hates how small her voice sounds, how fragile, if not broken already, but it seems to soften Killian’s stance just enough that he can fold his knees and take a seat on the pillowed swing, his gaze focused on the grass beneath them.

“I should’ve done this earlier. Regina told me that she had disclosed—“

“Emma, I am…” he clears his throat and looks up at her and she can see the question in his eyes, the permission he seeks to speak freely on a topic that will shame any woman worth anything. “I am aware that you have lain with another man… men.”

If nothing else, Emma is glad to discover that she cannot perish from mortification alone – for if she could, her time would’ve most certainly come already.

“Man. He… it was just one man.”

Killian nods and she can’t tell if he is relieved or indifferent, can’t even stop to consider what it is she wants him to be, not with what is looming ahead of her.

“He was—“

“You don’t have to—“

“I know you can’t wish to hear it and… please, believe me, I don’t wish to tell it but… Regina— Regina did not tell you all. She only told you what needed to be immediately—“ she cuts off, aware that had Regina never told Killian anything, he could’ve still believed her chase and pure now. “What she thought needed to be immediately known.”

Emma watches her fingers pinch the fabric of her skirts and her chest rise with her next deep breath and her next, and her next. Until she dares to look at the man beside her and find his eyes resolutely focused on her and filled with confusion.

“He was a horse dealer.”

She watches his brows furrow and then lift as his eyes widen with quick realization.

“Yes, I… I used to ride a fair bit but Regina would never actually buy a horse so I just kept—“

“Emma.”

The tone of his voice makes her freeze, her mouth staying half open as she tries not to flinch at the rage that finally begins to simmer in Killian’s eyes. She knew no man would want to listen to this sort of thing, especially coming from his wife’s mouth but—

“When we were at the stables, you— Emma, did he force you—“

“Oh! Oh, no. No, this—“

A moment ago she thought herself beyond the point of blushing but now she discovers it anew when she has to reveal another turn that puts her conduct in an even worse light. For surely, for anyone but her – she cannot make herself regret that it was not so, no matter what fault it might take off her – it would’ve been much better, if at least she hadn’t been complicit, if she had tried to deny him.

“It was not… It was in the stables that I—“ she looks down at her hands again to find them clasped firmly together, holding onto each other when they could find nothing else. “I asked him to… to run away with me.”

“And he refused?”

Again she does not know if he is surprised by how far she wanted and dared to go or by how unwanted she found herself to be.

“He said he could do better.”

“He could do be—“

“And that he couldn’t have—“ the word literally chokes her and she has to choose between it and a breath but the look on Killian’s face now says he will not finish this sentence for her and she has to. “A child.”

The seizing in her stomach now is all things past and present all at once and she clutches the seat of the swing in her hands and strains her arms so they won’t allow her to fold in on herself.

“Where—“ Killian clears his throat and the sentence that comes next is less words than action ready to be realized. “Where is the child now?”

The swing groans and his feet shuffle as if he is ready to get up and go, though where and what he might wish to do she does not have the strength to imagine right now. It’s only when the tears slide down her cold cheeks that she realizes she is so aware of every sound because her eyes have fallen shut.

“There is no child,” it’s an eerily calm whisper and she rocks along with it, the swing groaning harder.

“What?”

“There is no— He left, disappeared. And she wouldn’t let me… Regina wouldn’t— She knew best and I—“

A fire poker in her side would’ve shocked her less than his hand on her shoulder but it is as he quickly withdraws it that she realizes her own is clutching his knee in a vice grip. She lets out a hysterical little laugh at her body’s sad attempt to keep him where he is.

“Emma, I need you to try to listen to me, alright? You don’t have to—“

She jumps to her feet before he can say something he will have to take back in a second and feels her head spin a little from emotional vertigo and blood loss and good old fear and lord knows what else.

“And now I can’t!” she hears her voice grow a little hoarse and a strange part of her mind worries if it carries all the way to the house. “Again. They said… T-the women she brought to… to do it. T-they said I was too weak and that I might never— I—“

Save for the very event she is trying and failing to retell, Emma has never fainted in her life but she knows in a minute she will crumble right where she stands. She will try not to but she knows she will.

But as Killian rises swiftly to his feet and erases the distance between them in a single large step, she does not try to stop her body from falling against his own. Every last bit of her is too cold to resist the warmth of his arms around her, too cold to wonder if he will recoil from the way her wet cheek lands against his neck, too cold to wonder if her hand has a right to clutch the back of his jacket in a desperate attempt to keep him from separating them.

*****

“It’s alright, Emma, it’s alright.”

If it wasn’t for the way she is clutching at his back, he would’ve thought that she had gone completely limp against him, but what worries him most is that he can’t properly tell if she is shivering or sobbing or some awful combination of the two.

“Just lean on me.”

Killian tightens his arms around her and looks toward the house, unsure if he should bring her inside, if she would want to take the risk of anyone seeing her. He wouldn’t. So he keeps his left arm around her and bring his hand to rubs gently up and down her back. She is certainly shivering and the wetness at his neck and shoulder tells him that she is crying as well and he has never been more sure of what he wants and more unsure of how to achieve it.

He lets his arms drop but her grip on him doesn’t loosen, he doesn’t want to push her away or touch her with his wooden attachment so he tries to take half a step back instead. The whimper that follows him surely tears a piece of his heart clean off – there is no other explanation for the way it seizes at her blind terror.

“Just a second, love.”

He pulls his jacket off his left arm with her still half holding onto it before her arms drop to her sides. Killian makes quick work of shrugging the garment off completely and sets it around her shoulders before tugging on the ends of it to both pull it more securely around her and bring her closer again.

“Alright. Let’s sit down again, yeah?”

Emma finally focuses her eyes back on his and the sheer hopelessness and resignation in them makes him discover a whole new reincarnation of feeling helpless.

“Emma, it’s al—“

“I’m sorry. I really— I was going to tell you before… before we—“

“You—“

“And then right after. But I kept putting it off and I kept— I didn’t want to—“

He urges her to sit back down and wonders how to explain that her giving him any children was the furthest thing from his mind when he married her.

“I’m sorry I—“

“Emma, stop. Listen to me,” he doesn’t know how to ease the pain of the past but he hopes he can at least alleviate her fear of the present, her fear of him, he thinks sadly. “I’m not angry. I’m not angry at you.”

“But I-I can’t—“

“I understand and I’m sorry. I’m sorry it happened but it doesn’t affect— That is, I realize it will always affect you but it doesn’t affect—“

Bloody hell, he doesn’t know how to reassure her, he doesn’t know how to explain. He never intended to be with her, he never thought she’d want much of him except what he could easily give – independence, money, security.

“You’re safe here.”

She blinks at him a couple of time, the tears making her eyelashes sparkle in a way that both pains and mesmerizes him. Something in her face softens and relaxes, cautiously hopeful. She still looks fearful but he realizes, with some relief, that she is more afraid of believing him than of him.

“I did not intend to deceive you.”

“You—“

He wants to say she didn’t but that would be a lie. Just because he isn’t angry about it, just because it doesn’t in any way affect what he imagined or expected of their marriage, doesn’t mean that she didn’t keep a secret. Yet, he cannot blame her.

He cannot blame her for keeping close to her heart something that hurt it so badly. He cannot blame her for being afraid to share her secrets when he trembles at the very idea of putting his own into words.

But Killian is afraid that whether he passes judgement or not has little bearing on her guilt. The only sin he can pardon is the one she seems to think she has committed against him. He remembers the unsettled feeling when he raised his voice at her, when he thought he’d upset her, he remembers the relief of her absolution.

“You are forgiven.”

He wouldn’t dare call it a laugh but, as she closes her eyes and lifts her shoulders, the sound that escapes her mouth is not as hopeless as a sob.

“And I don’t want you to think…”

Killian takes a breath and ducks his head, he tries to remember how one talks to a person they are allowed to be more open and honest with – fears he has never known and probably never will. But, looking up into Emma’s tear-bright eyes again, he thinks this woman deserves someone who knows, someone who can, and if she is not to have that, she at least deserves for him to try.

“I don’t want you to think I’ll think less of you because of this.”

*****

The silence is absolute – even the birds have gone quiet, even the swing has become completely still. She is unaware of this, she is aware of how hard her heart is still beating, how much control it takes to keep her breathing even, how incomprehensible his words are.

Emma has been defined by the word “less” as far back as she can remember. She is a granddaughter but less than a daughter, she is pretty but less than exquisite, she is well-trained but less than well-educated, she was a lover but less than a wife, she was expecting but less than a mother, she is collected but less than dignified, she is inexperienced but less than pure, she was unmarried but less than a good match, she is married but less than a proper wife.

She doesn’t really understand how she could’ve been saved from becoming less in Killian’s eyes unless she was already nothing. But it’s exactly his eyes that tell her she is not nothing and she finds them almost capable of convincing her.

She drops her gaze to her hands. She cannot bear to shed any more tears – she feels physically and emotionally exhausted, but she cannot bear to appear any weaker. Yet, everything already trembling inside her trembles all the harder at the thought of him leaving in the face of her inadequate silence. Only she doesn’t quite know what—

So she reaches for his hands and lays her cold ones over them. The contrast between his warm flesh and the smooth coolness of the leather glove on his prosthetic is curious but the way his left arm seems to flinch makes her breath back into her throat. She waits for a second, two, three, not daring to look up, waiting to see if he will pull away, if after all else, this is the way she manages to push him to his feet and away.

But whatever instinct seized Killian he seems to master and Emma curls her fingers a little more securely before she looks up. She is surprised to see him staring somewhere in the distance, as if recalling something else that will inform him what to do now. But then he shakes his head and looks back at her, his face composed but still watching her as if to make sure parts of her are not falling off.

“Let me bring you something to drink.”

She doesn’t want anything to drink, she just wants him to stay right where he is, but she is not selfish enough to deny him the opportunity for escape, she is grateful he has delayed it as long as he has, so she just nods quickly and draws her hands back into her lap.

“Something refreshing or—“

“Something warm.”

She tries not to think about that as he walks away. How much she needs something to steal comfort from, how cold and empty she felt right after and how frozen and stiff her fingers feel even now. How she hasn’t felt truly warm even once in the last ten years.

Emma stares at the sun – it too is slowly starting to take its leave. She expects Ruby – she hopes it’s Ruby, she cannot fortify herself enough to face Mrs Lucas right now – to come out with a cup of tea, so it’s only when she actually sees Killian returning and feels her shoulders release, that she becomes conscious of how tense she was.

He has the same set up of a pot and two cups hanging from his thumb and the familiarity of it settles her further, just like the smell of the hot chocolate. He crouches down, depositing his cargo on the grass before he sits down on the ground, leaning one shoulder on the swing and looking up at it before he starts pouring the chocolate.

“Do you want to know how long it took to make this?”

Emma blinks, realizes she can now send away the demons she summoned – the fresh air and sunshine seem to have made them shrink just a little.

“You actually made this?” she asks with genuine surprise before she takes the cup he offers her.

“I dare say I was rather good at building things before—“ he shrugs his left shoulder and takes a little sip.

“The war?”

“Hmm? Ah. No, no,” Killian takes a more generous gulp, his tongue pressing against his utter lip, seemingly lost in thought. “This didn’t happen during the war.”

“Oh.”

She always just assumed that’s how he lost his hand and secured his reputation as a daring war hero.

“No, this was… another voyage I took later in life…”

His eyes lose some of their focus, staring unseeingly at the liquid he swirls lightly in his cup.

Emma believes some thoughts have the ability to carry you so far away that you might never come back. She believes one of those had possession of her just minutes ago and Killian Jones managed to bring her back.

She hopes when his own thought comes for him, she manages to do the same.

“So how long did it take?”

*****

“Honey, you must be starving. Let me put something out for you. Lord know when they will come in.”

Ruby watches Alice smile benevolently at Granny’s disgruntled face.

“Oh, let them be. I still believe it is a crime to spend an hour of sunshine inside.”

A/N: Very vague mentions of abortion and possible inability to conceive.

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[mythicamagic]

Giselle: DL oneshot

Commission for @s-e-kwan who asked for the ballet story of Giselle featuring Yui Komori. So somewhat of a Diabolik Fairytales AU

Pairing: Subayui

SFW but features character death

word length: 1,800

Sunlight bathed light blonde locks in a vibrant shine. A young woman hurried out the door, tapping her toe on the ground to right her shoe. She had dressed appropriately for a harvest festival, long pale pink skirts swaying around her legs.

The excitement caused her heart to rapidly thud and constrict, and she winced, placing her hand on her chest.

“Mind yourself, Yui.”

She glanced over her shoulder, forcing a smile. “I’m alright. Don’t worry, Father.”

“I suppose you’ll be seeing that boy again,” Seiji Komori’s eyes narrowed as he lingered within the threshold to their home. “Don’t let him exhaust your heart.”

She waved, shrugging off his warnings and running in the direction of the square. No force on earth would keep her from a meeting with Loys.

A maypole had been erected in the village square, and children danced around it, weaving the ribbons together. Men and women minded stalls. Foods were placed out for everyone, and she entered the dance that had begun, weaving around partners that spun in wonderful circles, waltzing.

“Kitty!” Arms wrapped around her, and Yui stiffened, before laughing as Kou spun her out.

“I’m sorry Kou, I can’t stay, I have to find Loys.”

“Ahhh that guy again?” He pulled her back to him,  frowning. “You don’t find it a lil weird that he disappears all the time? And there’s no way he lives in the village. Somethin’s not-“

“Oi, problem?” A new voice caused her cheeks to flush as familiar white hair caught her eye and she was pulled into new arms.

“No, not at all,” she smiled, completely clueless as Kou stepped back, glaring.

Loys returned it, jaw ticking. Yui placed her hands on his shoulders, and he gentled slightly even as his calloused palms grasped her fragile fingers.

They danced for what felt like hours. A happy noise escaped her lips when he gripped her waist, pulling her in as they turned. He was a surprisingly good dancer, but it had taken months to coax this side out of him.

“I don’t dance.” He’d glared, arms crossed as she discovered his little hideaway in a dingy ally on the outskirts of the square. It had been the winter solstice, on the very night they’d first met and become such a strange pair. For some reason, she’d felt he was running from something.

“Do you not know how?”

“I know plenty. Too much. Ain’t dancin’, no way in hell.”

“That’s fine, but I could really use a partner,” she’d winced, rolling her ankle. She’d twisted it- but it was expected she’d perform for the solstice. Yui had become the village’s star dancer, excelling in ballroom and ballet.

She could remember him lifting her onto his feet, and awkwardly trying to complete the steps of the dance. All the while he’d grumbled.

‘It’s the reason I fell in love with you, Loys.’ Yui smiled, heart thundering. She could only dance a few hours a day due to her condition. Father kept strict tabs on her. But with Loys she felt strong and sure.

Loys’ lashes lowered, and he leaned down, gathering her close and stopping amidst the dancers. He pressed his lips to hers, causing her to inhale and grip his shoulders tight. She practically radiated happiness, nothing could be better-

“Everyone! Everyone look, come quick! The nobles are here!”

“The nobles are passing through!”

Loys ripped his mouth away from hers, looking up. Yui was lost in a daze before she felt herself be planted down on her feet after reaching cloud nine.

“I gotta go. Be back later,” he quickly muttered, kissing her flushed cheek.

“W-wait!” She reached out, but it was already too late, his form swallowed by the crowd. Feeling herself be pushed and prodded back, Yui was helpless to do much else but watch as the five nobles of House Sakamaki came into sight. It was rumoured there was six, but Subaru, the youngest brother had become an infamous recluse.

Yui stared, watching them atop their steeds. Each one carried a sword at the hip, with a symbol upon the scabbard. Proof of their blood and superior heritage.

She swallowed, averting her gaze.

“Kitty! Kit- ah hell, YUI! Yui I found it!”

She turned her attention to Kou, who grinned madly, pushing through the enamoured crowd. He held aloft a single item. A sword. Exactly the same as the one's nobility wore at their sides.

“K-Kou, where did you get that?” Her voice turned thin.

“I finally found his hiding place. That guy Loys, he’s one of them, Yui. He’s a noble!” Kou hissed.

“W-what? Kou, please don’t be ridiculous-“ she snatched it off him

But it was too late. Someone spotted it, and soon new shouts entered the air. Things like ‘thief’ and ‘robber.’

“Oh my, oh my, oh my~ what do we have here?”

A shadow fell over them, and Yui gripped the sword tight, cowering as a large horse bore down on them. A rider with red hair smiled sharply, reaching down to grasp her wrist.

“Has a naughty girl stolen my little brother’s sword? How humiliating for him. Tell me, did you steal it after pleasuring him?” Laito purrs, green eyes glittering. “A person is most fragile after experiencing true bliss, wouldn’t you agree?”

The crowds began to murmur, saying there must be some mistake, as sweet Yui would never steal. Reiji Sakamaki clicked his tongue, easing his horse to continue on. They needed to stay on schedule. Yui tugged at her wrist, the colour draining from her face when he didn’t let go.

“I’m going to enjoy making you fragile over and over again,” Laito purred in her ear, before Kou tried to yank her from his grip, a scuffle breaking out.

“Oi!”

They stopped. Yui turned her head, instantly brightening.

“Loys!”

“Subaru~”

Yui froze, glancing up at Laito. She then slowly turned back to look at the white-haired young man, whose red eyes had turned sombre.

“Loys…why- what’s going on?”

“Is that the name he’s called himself? How cute. Did he also tell you he has a fiancée waiting for him back home?” Laito smiled.

Yui flinched as though she’d been struck. What was worse- Subaru hung his head, hands squeezing into tight fists.

It’s…true?

Rose-pink eyes stared ahead sightlessly. She then felt her shoulders be grasped. Townsfolk that didn’t understand the situation urged her to the middle of the square.

‘You really should see her dance, milords-“ and, “she’s graceful as a swan! Please stay and watch!’ Filled her ears.

And so, Yui danced.

Her legs moved mindlessly, and she swayed like a marionette, dipped this way and that. All the while, her heart thrummed against the wall of her chest. Slowly, with every thud, a little piece was chipped off. She raised sorrowful eyes, gaze locking with Loys, no- Subaru’s.

He stared back, expression contrite and regretful.

Even then she loved him, oh how she loved him.

Her dance moved faster and faster, becoming more erratic. Her arms bent up, spine arching as she gazed at the heavens and inhaled, chocking on a sob when the corset dug into her ribs.

 The heavy weight in her chest crumbled and split free into pieces, and the dancing girl danced no more.

------

They say that Kou Mukami, the gamekeeper, drowned himself in the very lake Yui’s grave sat beside, overlooking the water.

Were you to ask her father, however, he’d say that spirits preyed upon the boy and had forced him to dance until he’d died.

Much like the village’s beloved star.

Subaru didn’t listen. He didn’t think much of anything. Or speak. He’d come to resemble his brother Shuu, listlessly visiting her grave often and placing white roses atop it. His betrothed meant nothing to him. He’d never wanted that life. Perhaps that was what made him such a brat, but with her, with Yui- she’d eased his loneliness. Her smile had been dumb, and she’d chatted nonsense, but hell she’d been perfect and kind, forgiving of his rough hands.

The only person who’d given a damn was dead now, joining his long-deceased mother, who had also been proficient in ballet. She’d taught him everything about dance. He’d loathed it so much after she’d died- until Yui had breathed life into his steps again.

He grit his teeth. What was even the point anymore?

On one such night, he started upright beside her tombstone, a terrible, vile chill shuddering down his spine. Subaru stood, his sleep-deprived eyes taking in the sight of eleven ghostly figures standing atop the surface of the lake.

They wore fine white dresses, their images shimmering with an ethereal quality- at times like that of gossamer. They all began to dance, spinning in tight circles and raising their arms as they leapt over the water.

One such pale apparition raised her hand to Subaru, beckoning.

He raised his palm, gaze flat.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered in a hoarse voice. When had he last eaten, again?

“Do you not know how?”

Muscles froze, locking in place. His throat constricted, and Subaru turned his head, finding a pale pink form to his left. “I know plenty,” he rasped, legs shaking and threatening to send him to his knees. “Too much. Ain’t dancin’, no way in hell…”

Yui smiled softly, a phantom wind caressing her hair as she extended a hand. “That’s fine, but I could really use a partner.”

He did not refuse, eagerly taking her hand that still felt soft and warm in his own larger one. He danced with her, performing the same lifts- still able to hold her close and embrace her. She even smelled the same. He could almost fool himself into believing she were still alive. He apologised endlessly into her hair, tears pricking his eyes as bone white fingers latched into her dress tightly.

A soft touch stroked his hair.

“It’s alright…I forgive you,” she murmured. “I forgive you, Subaru.”

He exhaled hard, own heart shaking in his chest. Yet even as he tried to stop, they continued to dance, moving closer to the shore of the lake, until his feet splashed in the water as they performed a pas de deux. His breath shuddered, feeling a strong force urging him to move deeper into the lake.

“Stop,” Yui soon interjected, staring not at him but at the ghostly women. “Please stop. Leave him alone. I don’t want this.” Her firm voice eased, brows pulling together. “I don’t want the man I love to die.”

Their expressions thinned, incensed. And yet his feet slowed, gaining control.

Soon, their dancing died down, and Subaru merely held her, gently swaying in the shallows while her dress trailed into the water.

Come sunrise, however, his touch skimmed through her. She slowly vanished with each creeping ray of light upon her face.

He waited, and at night, she returned once again to his arms. In this way, they continued for a long time, with the moon as their only witness.

 They say that Subaru Sakamaki drowned himself after Kou Mukami, for the very same reason: it was all to reach the angel ballerina that danced upon the surface of the moonlit lake.

Sometimes though, others had claimed to see her with a partner, dancing a perfect pas de deux.

 End

[ycnderes]

can we get more soulmate Strade? I love their dynamic with the reader!

[part 1] [part 2] same as last time, you probably don’t need to read the two previous works to understand what’s going on, but you’ll have a bit more background etc.

i’m just gonna say this here, while i like the idea i had for this story -- i honestly have no idea if i executed it well. if you liked this story, if you liked the writing, pls let me know because i honestly can’t tell right now if this is good or not.

BUT either way, here it is, and i hope you like it :)

Music plays, filtering through the car radio and evaporating into the hot desert air as the landscape passes by. You searched a bag earlier and managed to find a tank top, but even with that and a pair of shorts, you’re sweating. It’s nice. Dirt and sand stretch for miles in every direction, and there are mountains on the edge of the horizon. No air-conditioned house, no garage right beneath your feet; you feel like you can breathe for the first time in a long time.

Fingers thread through your own and you look at Strade. "Not fallin' asleep on me, are you?" He squeezes your hand tight for a second too long; you know he's just uncomfortable, it's early spring but the weather here is already too warm for him. The thought’s edges prick at your conscious, you shouldn’t feel so pleased about that.

"No," you rub your thumb across the back of his hand. "Just thinking."

He glances at you quick before looking back. "What about?"

The road curves and hot sun spills onto your side; you wish you could stay here, in this one spot, forever. "I'm really happy," you start to say. "Thank you for this, for..." For letting you leave the house? For bringing you so far away? For giving you a chance to feel the sun on your skin?

How do you put that into words? How do you express gratitude when he’s the one who took those things away?

He smiles, all teeth and so wide. He’ll never understand what he’s done. "I knew you'd like it, kleiner hase, and this is just the beginning! We’ve still got another two weeks before -"

“Before we go back?” You interrupt.

“Yep!” He sounds excited, whether for the rest of this little road trip, or the thought of going back home, you’re not sure.

It is what it is. And you are happy, though you try not to think of what that means for your psyche, so you smile at him and shift so you can reach and kiss his cheek. His eyes leave the road as he turns to capture you into a more clinging kiss. It doesn’t last more than two seconds before he lets go, and it’s less than a moment, but you see a truck coming straight at the car, and you open your mouth to scream or cry -- and it hits.

---

You can feel your body before you even wake up, aching in every bone and joint. Face down in the dirt, you try to focus on breathing, just like Strade taught you. Don’t scream, don’t panic, breathe. You shiver, and then realize you’re cold. You peel your eyes open, and you can see the night sky in your peripheral, the moon just coming up over the horizon. Breathe.

Where’s Strade? You’re still alive, so he must be too. Testing your limbs, you inhale deeply and hold it, then exhale. That’s a good sign, nothing’s broken on either of you. You continue to breathe, to calm yourself down from the screaming breakdown you want to have, and listen. It’s cold, but you can hear the breeze, and the ground is solid underneath you. You carefully push yourself up and wait. Nothing. But you can see the car about five feet away; it looks… rough. The front is nearly caved in, and the windows are broken leaving glass everywhere. Both of the doors are open, but you can’t remember at all how you got out of there and all the way over here.

You clench your fists and release. “Strade?” Your voice breaks halfway through, your mouth almost too dry to make words. There’s no reply, why is there no reply, so you unsteadily, painfully, walk around the wreck.

It’s a mess. It didn’t even flip, from what little you remember, but everything’s been tossed around. Oh well. You keep walking and manage to circle the vehicle before needing another breather.

No Strade.

No truck either.

If it’d been a hit and run, where’s your soulmate? If they’d done it specifically for kidnapping purposes, why leave you? It doesn’t make sense.

The moon is full in the sky before you finish checking the surrounding area, rechecking the car, and grabbing some necessary supplies into a backpack. You find your phone up on the dashboard, of all places, and the screen is completely shattered. Strade’s phone is missing too, but it’s night, and you’re feeling terrible, so it could be right next to your foot and you’d never know.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here, in the middle of nowhere, You’re not a survivor, so your only option is to start walking. You look at the road and glance down both ways. The last place you’d passed was about a two-hour drive away, difficult, but you’d know exactly where to go. The next place you’d seen on the GPS was an hour away, but you’d looked at it probably a half hour before the crash.

So, what do you choose? You’re not even sure what you’re looking for. It didn’t look like a town, but all you’ll really need is a phone. You set the pack down and search through it until you find your knife. Throwing the pack back on, you look at the crash, knife in hand.

“Strade!” You yell.

You count down, listening for something, anything. And when there’s no reply, you start walking.

---

There’s no way to tell the time, except for the moon slowly sinking down the sky, and you can’t read it as well as you’d like. Maybe it’s been an hour, maybe it’s been ten minutes…

No, it’s definitely been more than ten minutes.

You went in the direction you thought Strade would go in, if he woke up and decided to leave you behind. It could be the wrong direction, but you’re already committed to it. The moonlight is almost enough to see by, and you try to pay attention to where you’re stepping. And the asphalt hurts your feet but the dirt has loose gravel and other things and you’ve already tripped, so you stay on the asphalt as the bottom of your feet ache with every step.

It feels like a miracle when you finally see a light in the distance. It’s small, but maybe it’s a house? A parked car? It feels just as dangerous as being alone out here, and you can almost hear Strade telling you not to be stupid. But the cold has set in past your layers of clothes and you’re exhausted.

You walk and walk till you’re close enough until you can see it’s a truck. The same truck as earlier, but it's had a crash of its own. The truck is flipped, fallen into a small ravine to the side of the road. The lights are still on, and one of the sides is all messed up, probably from the earlier crash. Where’s the driver?

You walk closer, and then you hear it. A wet, sticky sound, like someone’s clearing their throat, but it doesn’t end. Fear shoots through your veins, and you grab your knife. You unsheath it quietly, but your hands are shaking so bad you almost drop it. You try to remember Strade’s lessons, but nothing is coming to mind except breathe. Flattening yourself as close to the truck as you can, you count to five, ignore the rushing noise in your ears, you listen.

Someone is dying. It’s a horrible death, you’re sure of it. They’re drowning in their own blood from the sounds of it. And someone… someone is watching them die. It takes every bit of nerve in your body to look over the truck, and --

It’s Strade.

He’s sitting in the dirt, his own knife loose in his hands, watching what must’ve been the truck driver die.

“Str-Strade,” you can barely make it out of your mouth you’re so completely shaken.

Immediately, he turns towards you. “Oh! You’re here,” he grins at you, gesturing for you to come closer. “Look what I found!”

His eyes are intense and wild, bearing on you like he’s seeing straight through you. You don’t move, a sick feeling curdles in your gut. It feels too much like the earliest days of your relationship with him.

He laughs, a sharp, nearly hysterical sound, and stands up, dusting the dirt off on his pants. “Come here, now.” It’s an order. You step around the truck, now fully in front of him, the knife tight in your hands and in a ready position. He eyes the knife. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Strade, please,” you beg. “I was so afraid, why didn’t you wait for me?”

He stalks close, knife at his side, and comes close enough that your knife is resting against him. “Say that again,” he cups your face and squishes your cheeks slightly.

“Please.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Tell me you’re afraid.” He moves closer, forcing your knife hard against him and you have to pull back.

Your voice trembles and tears start in your eyes. “I’m afraid, I’m scared, Strade, please, I’m so scared, please stop.”

For a moment, he does. Then he brings the knife up to your throat. “Say you love me.”

You can’t hesitate. “I love you.”

He watches you, waiting for… something. It doesn’t happen. Sunlight peaks over the horizon and he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace. “I love you,” he breathes into your skin desperately, as if he hadn’t just threatened you.

You can’t forgive him, not with the body that lies nearby, not with the knives in both your’s and his hands, but you allow him to hold you. Sunlight bathes your face, and you close your eyes against the light.

[post-itpenny]

Hello

@grotesquegabby

The clubs had reopened but there was something… different about them.

People acted the same, many of the regulars were happy to come back, and the inside of each one was the same as well. But there was a vibe, like some half-hearted attempt at something.

Alex sat at one of the tables stirring a strange glowing drink with a straw. He smiled but it wasn’t quite his signature one. Around his waist was of all things a fanny pack.

Except it wasn’t.

Fanny gave a quiet growl, someone had entered the club. Alexander sat up and observed the room. Catching a familiar presence before spotting its owner’s bright red hair.

Alexander smirked as a rather nervous- looking Maggie approached him.

“Well, well, greetings and salutations. Congrats on the promotion Red.”

Maggie blushed in embarrassment as she sat down, quickly ducking to the side as Fanny attempted to launch herself across the table. Alexander grabbed the creature and pulled her back with a chuckle. “Say hi to Fanny.”

Maggie smiled at the strange creature as it wrapped itself around Alex’s arm. “You would be the kind of guy to have a monster fanny pack as pet.”

She paused then, blinking. Alex could see her eyes shifting, he recognized the look.

“So Red what does the future have to tell you?”

“... I’m checking if this really is a good idea.”

“What idea is that?”

“What I’m about to ask you.” Maggie responded as she nervously shifted in her seat. “Alex I have to go visit another elder today and I need someone to come with me. I- I can’t do this by myself.”

Alexander leaned back in his chair, watching the young elder in interest. “Well I’m sure ol’ Billy-Boy would just love to come.”

“He can’t, he’s not allowed and I was told I couldn’t bring Vespers or anyone else. But I think you could get away with it.”

Alexander grinned, oh it was going to be fun to tease his “good friend” Billy on this one. “Well if that's the case why we still hangin around here? Let’s roll!”

Maggie reached out and took his hand. The world shifted around them. It was a bit of a rocky ride that left both of them unsteady on their feet.

“Yo, I take it you’re knew to teleporting?” Alex questioned, “warn a guy next time.”

Maggie did not answer, instead taking in their surroundings. They were in a path inside a lush forest. Dappled sunlight breaking through trees of every type and species imaginable.

As they walked Fanny moved herself to Alex’s shoulder, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Alex himself felt a sense of familiarity, it had been a long time since he had come to this place.

They rounded a corner and found a cottage, outside of which a curious-looking woman sat in a chair knitting.

Alexander grinned, “What's shakin Granny A!”

The woman looked up in surprise but smiled when she saw her visitor, giving Alex a warm hug before planting a kiss on his head. Fanny lunged at her, mouth open wide only to be caught midair.

“None of that,” the woman playfully scolded Fanny before returning the creature to Alex.

“Alexander dear what a nice surprise, haven’t been causing too much trouble have you?”

The party clown grinned, “nah Granny A. I told you to call me Alex, everything is slammin.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, “something is bothering you Alex. Why are you here?”

“I-I asked him to Ma’am.”

They both turned, Maggie stood a few feet away, looking up at the elder nervously. She was an odd looking woman no doubt. A grandmotherly face hidden behind large glasses and soft golden hair piled onto her head like a beehive with streaks of grey running about. But her eyes were like those of a hare, she had the ears of one as well. Of all things a proud set of antlers sprouted from her head along with a tiny set of hawk wings from her shoulders. From her mouth two tiny fangs sprouted. It was as if she could not decide on what form to take and just decided to be a little of everything.

The elder gave a small gasp, “oh why you’re a little black bird. How lovely! You’re most certainly not one of mine though and I know that didn’t come from either Bridgette or Jackal. Come here don’t be shy now, let Granny Adeline take a good look at you.”

Maggie timidly stepped forward. Adeline gently held her face, turning Magge’s head this way and that for inspection. The elder hummed in approval before letting go and giving Maggie a warm smile. “My goodness you are terribly young for this. Yet… I do believe you will grow into the role just fine. Tell me little bird what do they call you?”

“It’s M-maggie Ma’am.”

Adeline chuckled. “Just Maggie then? You take right after your elder I see. Well I am Lady Adeline, master of healing arts and caretaker of the universe's creatures. But you can just call me Adeline.”

She winked and Maggie felt a small sense of relief, but there was still the reason for their visit.

“I am sorry however Madam Seer but in the letter I sent I did request that only you came.” Adeline said as she ushered everyone inside.

The elder’s cottage was far bigger on the inside strange creatures moved about and hind in various nooks and crannies, all in various stages of care. Maggie nodded but had a determined look on her face. “I understand but I… I’m sorry but I was too afraid to come alone. Plus, Alex was her friend and I knew you would have already known him so… I figured it would be ok?”

Alex turned to Maggie in surprise. He was who’s friend?

Wait…

He spun around to Adeline, “Hold up… she’s here?”

Adeline nodded but her mouth held in a grim frown. “When I was told of your relationship with the poor thing I thought it best you come first, that were could speak as equals. I did not want friends or family to visit yet due to the nature of her condition.”

“Wait, wait she’s here?” Alex asked again, “Oh come on Granny you gotta let me visit!”

“Alexander sweetheart-”

“Come on please?”

Adeline sighed in defeat, leading them both into the kitchen and having them sit at the table. She did not speak to either of them as she prepared tea. Would not even look at them until everyone had a cup and she was sitting with them.

“I am going to be plain with you both. I have never had such a case as her. I truly doubt Blackwood even fully understood what he was doing in the reconstruction of her body. I honestly wonder if it would have been kinder to just let her go.”

Alex frowned, Maggie gripped her hem of her dress tightly. Adeline took a sip of her tea before continuing. “I will admit this one has quite the fighting spirit however. So as long as she tries so will I. Blackwood was not prepared to take care of someone in such a fragile state and I happened to be visiting the day he brought her back… so I intervened. I need you to understand I did this for her own sake. The Elder of Creation may be good at creating reality but this is a life that already existed, one now in a body recycled into another form of itself. What is already living is my domain, not his.”

Maggie nodded, “I understand. But please, it is her right?”

Adeline shrugged, “I have know way of knowing, I didn’t know her from before. Her lights are still settling into her body, she is weak and at this point having to manually think about each action she takes with great intention. I hate to say it but she is a bit of a prisoner inside herself, I was only able to trust she could breathe on her own this morning. I also have no Idea how strong her memory is either. It is very likely that the person you knew is gone for good and we have only one way to find out.”

Alexander’s frown only deepened the farther into the cottage they walked. In front of him Maggie was shaking like a leaf. Adeline lead the pair down one hallway and then another before at least reaching a wooden door with all manner of flora and fauna carved into it.

Inside was a small but airy bedroom. A window was open as sheer curtains billowed in the breeze. There was a large oak bed and canopy, nestled among a dozen or so pillows sat Magpie.

The Elder of Sight’s breath hitched, she had been terrified of looking at any point in the future that came to this, terrified of what she would find. Yet here the moment was at last.

Magpie looked so small where she sat, yet so close to looking the same as what she once was. Her face marks seemed brighter however and she now had bangs that just brushed her eyebrows. Her eyes also had an odd sparkle to them, very much like swirling stardust.

She sat perfectly still, the only sign of life was the movement of her chest as she breathed.

“Hello Magpie dear,” Adeline quietly greeted. “I have a few visitors for you.”

Maggie stepped towards the bed, Alexander himself stayed in the doorway. Magpie almost didn’t look real, she was too still, too quiet.

Maggie gingerly reached out and held her former guardian’s hand. “Hey,” she paused to clear her throat. “Hey Aunt Magpie, I- I.”

Maggie was getting choked up, her voice warping as if two people were speaking at once. Tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

Adeline gasped in surprise, “well would you look at that.”

They all looked down, around Maggie’s feet tiny green stems grew from the wood floor, delicate red petals bursting into bloom.

Poppies.

Maggie sobbed, wrapping her arms around Magpie’s still form and holding her tight. The older clown still did not move but there was a spark of something, happiness, grief, love, life. Alexander gave his signature smile, there was Magpie.

Maggie cried and hugged Magpie as the flowers continued to fill the room and flow out the door into the hallway. Adeline chuckled, “well, there is no doubt she’s one of Blackwood’s. This is good, I would like to let her recover a little more before she gets swamped with visitors but this is wonderful.”

Maggie nodded to her fellow elder with a grateful smile before turning to Alexander, “come say hi.”

Alex removed himself from the doorframe and stepped forward. At once Fanny unwrapped herself from him and shot across the room, swallowing Magpie’s head.

Maggie squawked in fright as Alex rushed forward to pull the creature off Magpie. Behind them Adeline gave a groan, “oh goodness. I’ll be right back with a towel then.”

Alex pulled Fanny away from Magpie who was now soaking wet with saliva. It would have been funny except for the look he caught in Magpie’s eye.

Uncertainty, confusion, a lack of recognition.

Internally he gave a sigh, so her memory was damaged then.

Back to square one he guessed.

Alex flashed Magpie a smile. “Sorry about that little mama it's just how Fanny likes to greet people.”

He paused when he heard an odd sound. A light chuffing of breath. He looked at Magpie and noticed her face. The corner of her mouth giving just the tiniest twitch.

She was laughing.

Alexander grinned and gave a laugh as well, he let Fanny settle onto Magpie’s lap. The creature nudging her for attention.

“Hey I think she likes you! But yo lemme introduce myself. The name is Alexander Calamity but when you can, call me A-”

Pop!

Alex blinked, and looked down at his wrist where a glow ring appeared.

[evercharmed-a]

Sungil wakes to Seoltang insistently pulling on their bond. He has half a mind to chastise him and go back to sleep, annoyance cresting in his chest at being forced awake on a rare day off. Seoltang does this so often, needy for attention, but usually, he isn’t bratty enough to do so when he knows Sungil needs rest. Usually, he snuggles up to him in his sleep, taking what he can get from a loose-limbed Sungil locked away in dreams. The tugs don’t stop. Sungil sits up with a groan.

“What do you want?” he calls out, voice rough from disuse and laced with a bite that borders on too much first thing in the morning. Sungil reaches for his phone, face-down on his nightstand. The clock reads ten. It explains the panel of sunlight breaking through the gap in his curtain, stretched along the length of his left leg. At some point in the night, he must have kicked the blanket away. It’s crumpled in a heap next to the bed. Seoltang tugs again, but something is different this time. With it comes an overwhelming sensation of sickness deep in Sungil’s stomach, knots forming in its wake. All traces of sleep flee from his mind. He scrambles to get up, nearly tripping over his discarded blanket, and rushes into the living room. The closer he is to Seoltang, lying curled up in his favorite pouch, the more sick he feels, his stomach turning and flipping as he walks. Another wave of it washes over him. Sungil gags. For weeks, Seoltang has been feeling terrible. It started with simple lethargy, though he’d tried his best to cover it up, although Sungil felt it as though it was his own sluggishness. The bond between him and Seoltang had always been this strong, no matter how reluctant Sungil was when he first got him, no matter how violently he keeps rejecting the idea of being a witch. Magic tends to complicate everything, and he never wanted a part in it. Somewhere along the line, it got worse. Seoltang went from having little energy to having none, spending most days asleep. But every time he woke up, he’d complain about feeling worse, no improvement whatsoever. Sungil had taken him to Qiaomeng several times, hoped he might know what to do, had taken him to Rei, too, who gave him a look that said he knew more than he wanted to let on. It made no sense then, and it makes no sense now. Seoltang, demanding little brat as he is, doesn’t deserve any of this. Carefully, Sungil reaches into Seoltang’s pouch. Heat greets his fingertips, so intense that he pulls back as if it burned him. His heart speeds up, beating in violent staccato. Sungil reaches for Seoltang again and pulls him out, his tiny body limp and feverish. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at the tremendous effort it takes him to do only that. Sungil’s chest hurts with the sight of it. I’m dying, Seoltang says, and his voice is so thin, so void of his usual vibrancy that for a moment, Sungil’s mind tricks him into believing just that. For all his hatred for magic, Seoltang is a true exception to the rule. When Sungil rejected him, he’d done all he could to make him accept his existence, working tirelessly to prove himself worthy of keeping. Always the first to take Sungil’s side and sympathize with him, he never held a grudge. Sungil can’t lose him. Sungil refuses to lose him. “Shut up,” he rasps, cradling Seoltang against his naked chest. Their difference in temperature makes Sungil shiver, though it’s fear that crawls down his spine, too. “You’re not fucking dying. Familiars don’t die unless their witch does.” How redundant, telling a familiar this who knows very well how conditional his life is. When Sungil dies, Seoltang dies. When Sungil cuts their bond, like Indigo’s witch had done with him, Seoltang dies. Sungil would rather rip out his nails. He rushes back into the bedroom to get dressed. Seoltang put down on the mattress, he pulls out whatever items of clothing his fingers grasp first and all but tears the shirt in his hurry. He picks Seoltang back up, ready to head out. To see Hiroki Rei, perhaps, and demand he finally tell him what had been on his mind back then. Sungil isn’t all too sure, his brain still catching up with the fact that Seoltang got that much worse in the span of one night. It’s one thing for him to be torpid and tired, another for him to burn up like this out of nowhere. Sungil freezes in the doorway. Time slows down, and for a long, excruciating moment, pain floods his body. It yanks at his limbs, one by one, drives itself into his chest like a thousand tiny needles. He struggles to draw breath, gasping, clutching at his constricting throat with one hand. Everything goes black. When he comes to, pain drills into his head, sharp and precise. His vision dances with white spots even behind closed eyelids. Sungil furrows his brows and groans. He’s on the ground, the plush carpeting familiar under his fingertips as he stretches his hands out. Sungil tries to move, but a decidedly heavy weight on his chest pins him down. He shoves at it, only to come in contact with a naked shoulder. Sungil forces his eyes open. There, on top of him, lies a person. Fast asleep at that. Sungil shoves at them again, more force behind it this time, but they don’t budge even a little. Instead, they sniffle in their sleep, fingers curled into the fabric of Sungil’s shirt. A wet spot forms next to their mouth. Just what Sungil needs. “Get off me!” He shoves once more, and finally manages to push them off. They startle, face twitching, and while they slowly sit up, Sungil scrambles away until his back hits a wall. “Hey,” the person says, a petulant pout to their lips. They blink at Sungil like a lazy cat would do and stretch, yawning wide, before they reach down to scratch at their stomach. “Why’d you do that?” Sungil would recognize that voice everywhere. It’s Seoltang’s. Not so thin and not so shaky anymore, but most certainly Seoltang’s. “Oh, what the fuck.” Sungil scans him up and down, for a moment not too aware of his nakedness. He’s long-limbed and lithe, hair the exact grey shade of his usual fur and eyes so brown they’re black. Seoltang blinks at him again, confusion clear on his pretty face. He opens his mouth to speak, but his gaze drops down at the same time. His eyes go wide. “Huh?!” Seoltang blanches, just for a moment. He brings his hands up to his face, wiggling his fingers, then stares down at his feet, wiggling his toes. He cups his chest, patting at his pecs, and chances a look down between his legs - only to make a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat, sheer distress coloring it. Sungil never wanted to go back to bed and act like nothing happened so badly in his life. Seoltang closes his legs with so much force his thighs slap together with a loud smack. He throws a pleading glance towards Sungil, who peels himself off the wall although he has no idea what to do with any of this. It had been a surprise to him to receive Seoltang in the first place, but never in his wildest dreams would he have expected him to turn out like Lilac. He’d been pretty sure he didn’t possess the magic to grant his familiar that kind of power. “Hyung,” Seoltang whines, and makes to cover himself with his hands. As he realizes his hands don’t suffice even in the slightest, he whines again, sounding a little like a teakettle about to set off steam. “Hyung, what’s going on?” Sungil swallows, the mechanical click of his throat loud in his ears. “You, uh, have a human form.” And, well, isn’t that the most intelligent response to something so obvious. He runs a hand through his hair, furrowing his brows. Maybe it’s time to go back to sleep, after all. Seoltang heaves himself upright, though his legs wobble so badly he needs to steady himself by grabbing at the edge of the bed. Bending his knees, he sways back and forth, before he seems to get a grip on his balance. Still, he stretches out his arms like a circus performer walking on a tightrope as he makes his way over to the mirror set into Sungil’s closet. His mouth drops open. “That’s… that’s me?” He turns slowly, inspecting his reflection, pinching at the skin on his stomach, his thighs, his cheeks. He leans in closer until his nose almost touches the glass, head tilting every which way. “Hyung,” Seoltang says, sheer awe in his voice, and turns back towards Sungil. “Hyung, I’m cute!” Sungil groans.

[skylanders-after-the-end]

Frozen Heart

The desperate hunt for the Golden Queen has been in operation for months and remained unsuccessful. However, the Skylanders didn’t give up and continued to send out troops that would go to different islands in hopes of finding the rogue queen. The next place that would have to be visited was the Leviathan Lagoon, which the Skylanders visited years ago while looking for the Elemental Sources. Many Skylanders offered their services to visit the tropical island, mostly because it was one of the most popular holiday destinations since the Eternal Water source has been removed from it. Finally, Nightfall, Smash Hit, Roller Brawl and Chill were chosen to go on the mission. Nightfall used her vehicle, the Sea Shadow, while Smash Hit borrowed Dive-Clops’ Dive Bomber to travel to the huge island. As soon as the Superchargers and their companions arrived, they begun the search, even though some had other things in minds.

“I’m so glad I finally get to visit the famous Leviathan Lagoon!” Smash Hit slammed the door of the Dive Bomber open and jumped out with joy. The warsupial inhaled the humid salty air and looked around himself. “I really envy the guys that were here when they were collecting the sources.”

“We’re not on vacation, Smash Hit.” A distorted raspy voice spoke up. “We are looking for the Golden Queen, she could have gone anywhere, even here.” Nightfall finally exited her vehicle as well and floated over to the fellow Supercharger.

“Of course, focus on the mission!” The Earth Skylander put a stern expression on and tried to be more serious about his duty. “But if she’s not here we could visit the beach.” Smash Hit looked over to the dreadwalker with his one healthy eye, who only sighed in return.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to stay in the sun all day, it’s already exhausting.” While the sunlight didn’t hurt her, it still was the opposite of Nightfall’s natural habitat and she had a hard time adjusting to intense light.

Roller Brawl soon got out of the Dive Bomber as well, followed by Chill leaving the inside of the Sea Shadow. Oddly enough, the ice warrior was regularly wearing her blizzard armor instead of her regular attire. Despite Roller Brawl preferring that version optically, she was confused as to why Chill would wear her old guard armor. She already asked her friend about it, but the Water Skylander has grown more distant and silent since their intense adventure in the Ice Kingdom.

“You haven’t been on any missions for a while now, huh?” Roller Brawl smiled as she looked at her friend’s emotionless expression, attempting to make her smile.

“I haven’t.” A short and clear answer from Chill.

“I don’t think you’ve been here before either. I already love this place.” Roller Brawl observed the waterfalls as they poured down from the stone walls and into the seemingly endless sea.

“This is my first visit here too, yes.” Chill took a few steps forward without giving the skater another look and discussed the plan with Nightfall.

Roller Brawl was upset. Chill has become her closest friend over the years, but now she doesn’t even want to leave the Academy and she hasn’t seen her smile for months. The vampire hoped that the relaxing atmosphere of the lagoons might bring the Chill she knew back.

At the Academy, Stealth Elf was just headed to the library. The Skylander has been visiting it quite often for the last few months, and she didn’t plan to change that anytime soon. The elf opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped in. A few of her allies turned their heads towards her before going back to their books. The library was always calm and silent, perfect conditions for Stealth Elf to focus on her work. The assassin walked up the stairs and started to look for a few certain books. As she pushed them along the shelf, she spotted a familiar figure in the corner of the room.

“Star Strike?” The elf didn’t think she would ever get to see the mysterious Skylander again, but now she was right there sitting on a chair in the library.

“Oh, hello Stealth.” The alien briefly lifted her eyes to greet the bewildered elf before going back to her book about worlds beyond Skylands.

Stealth Elf still couldn’t believe her eyes. “Why are you here?” She asked more calmly and wanted to know why Star Strike didn’t pull through with her plan to leave the Skylands and return to her home. “Didn’t you want to go home?”

“I did.” The Magic Skylander turned over to the next page. “We were able to open the door, but there were… complications.” The cloaked being remembered what she saw back then. The entrance to her home darkening itself before a spirit emerged from it and fled. Both her and Enigma tried to forget about it, but it’s haunting them, and they fear that they might have freed something terrible.

“Why didn’t you try again?” Stealth Elf didn’t want to sound like she wanted Star Strike to leave for good, but she also realized how much she truly misses her home.

“The realm collapsed in itself. We tried, but we couldn’t find it anymore.” Star Strike knew that there were multiple entrances to the realm, but it already took Enigma years to find this one, so she didn’t get her hopes up.

Stealth Elf was silent for a few seconds. It all sounded very dramatic, but that gave her the desire to make the Academy feel like Star Strike’s true home. “So, you’re staying here?”

“I never wanted to truly leave all of you.” Star Strike did want to go back, but she made many friends along the way and didn’t want to lose that either. “But I wanted to go back home more.” She finally closed the book in between her hands and looked at the elf. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

Even though she couldn’t see it, Stealth Elf felt that Star Strike was happier than she used to be. She put her hand on the Magic Skylander’s shoulder. “I’m sure you will.” The assassin left her friend in solitude and continued with her own research.

After a few minutes, the Life Skylander found all the books she required and made her way over the several wooden planks that were present in the library. At the other side of the building, the Skylander reached a grand wooden closet filled with books. She put the ones she had in her arms on the ground and pushed the closet to the side. Behind it was a dark tunnel with torches lighting it up on the side. The assassin picked her books up and entered it before pushing the closet in front of it back into place. At the end of the tunnel was a small area with an opening above allowing light to shine into it. In it were countless books which the elf gathered over the last few months, and now she had more to add. She sat down and picked one of the books out of the mountains surrounding her. They weren’t all the same, but they all had something in common – it was always about the history of forest elves and records of orphaned children from many years ago.

Back on the Leviathan Lagoon, the four Skylanders asked some of the few inhabitants about seeing any strange occurrences that were related to gold. None of them had anything useful to tell them. While Nightfall continued to look for herself, Smash Hit already considered the job done and went to the beach.

“What are you doing?” The irritated dreadwalker asked the Supercharger as he just grabbed a lounger and a towel.

“We asked everyone about the Golden Queen, she’s not here. So I’m going to the beach!” Smash Hit didn’t bother to reason with the grumpy Skylander any further and went off to find a nice spot next to the ocean.

Nightfall was in no mood to argue and floated after him. “Smash, we did not come here to have a beach trip. There could be clues to where she’s gone. It’s been months and she must have been to some places-”

“Isn’t this exactly what you did the last time?” Smash Hit interrupted the Dark Skylander who abruptly stopped in surprise. “You were looking for the Doom Raiders for about two weeks with this exact strategy, and you could only find them when Sprocket escaped and brought you to them.”

Nightfall was at a loss for words. She did not expect the laid back and usually chatty Earth Skylander to react in such a way. “They teleported themselves to an island we never heard of before, we couldn’t-”

“I’m not trying to tell you that you’re doing your job wrong, but I think you have trouble learning from your mistakes.” Smash Hit pushed the lounger in his arm up when he felt it slowly slipping down before continuing his lecture. “You would have never found them if you kept looking for them like this. And it’s been months with the queen now. She hasn’t done anything so far and she won’t until she’s settled down somewhere. And when she does, we will find out about it and stop her, just like we always do.”

The Supercharger turned around and left without another word. Nightfall was caught off guard and for the first time had nothing to say in return.

Meanwhile, Chill and Roller Brawl were also done investigating the tropical islands and were ready to head back. Chill walked straight into one direction without speaking a word with Roller Brawl, who awkwardly skated next to her. They have only communicated when necessary during their trip and Roller Brawl didn’t enjoy feeling this uncomfortable around her friend.

“You have any plans for the rest of the day?” The roller skater attempted to start a conversation. “The weather is nice, even though I can’t stay in the sun for too long and you don’t like the heat either, we could do something-”

“I’m going back to the Academy as soon as the mission is done.” Chill responded before her friend could finish and continued walking while Roller Brawl slowed down until coming to a halt.

“Chill what happened to you?” Roller Brawl finally asked a question that made the ice warrior stop as well.

“What do you mean?” The Water Skylander’s Russian accent made all of her sentences sound harsh and colder than they already were.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Roller Brawl was getting tired of Chill’s behavior and decided to finally confront her. “For the last months you have been distancing yourself from everyone, even me!” The skater stared at the Skylander’s back who didn’t feel the need to face her angered ally. “We used to be best friends, don’t you remember?”

Chill was silent and didn’t move. Roller Brawl desperately looked at her friend, hoping that she would finally talk to her. Suddenly, the warrior turned around and tossed her javelin right past the vampire. Roller Brawl looked back to see a bunch of marine monsters emerging from the water, one of which was just hit by Chill’s weapon.

The Undead Skylander clenched her teeth and was about to skate towards them, when a trail of ice spikes suddenly impaled one of the enemies. Roller Brawl looked behind her to see Chill using more advanced ice powers to defeat the enemies in a rather brutal way. That didn’t stop her to continue throwing her javelins and creating spikes to pierce through the enemies one after the other. It was a gruesome view, even for an undead such as Roller Brawl. After a few moments, all foes were defeated and their lifeless bodies sunk back into the depths of the sea.

“We should go find Nightfall and Smash Hit.” Chill said as cold as always and continued her way.

Roller Brawl sighed before going after her friend, who still didn’t give her an answer to her question. But the Skylander wouldn’t give up that easily.

Spyro was inside of the Academy hospital. The dragon has been walking from left to right for minutes on end. He was nervous. Nervous was an understatement. He was utterly anxious and terrified. After Cynder has been resting and the doctors at the hospital have been trying to do everything they can, the results for her condition were finally here. They would finally know whether or not Cynder could ever fly again. Spyro waited in front of her room to receive the news first. The dragoness wanted her closest friend to tell her. Whirlwind soon got out of her main office and approached Spyro. Her expression already told the Skylander that the results were anything but positive. After a short conversation, Spyro finally entered Cynder’s room where she eagerly laid in her bed waiting for the news.

The undead dragon looked over to her friend who had a neutral expression. No smile, no frown. She didn’t want to wait any longer. “And?”

Spyro took a deep breath and sat down next to his friend’s bed. He couldn’t hide his disappointment any longer. “Whirlwind told me that they have run many tests and considered every possible option, but…”

Cynder’s hopeful attitude started to fade while the dragon was hesitating to finish his sentence. “I will never be able to fly again.”

Tears started to form in Spyro’s eyes as he looked up to his friend. He only shook his head to confirm her assumption.

Cynder inhaled and looked at the peachy orange wall of her room. A despicable color in her opinion. She had the urge to leave the hospital and soar back to the dark and gloomy place that was the Undead Realm, but now she could never do that. She could only walk. Slowly, carefully. If she fell off an island, she would have to rely on others to save her. Cynder started to picture her entire life without the ability to fly and couldn’t stop tears from running down her face. Tears which lead to her sobbing and clenching the sheets on her bed with her silver claws, almost tearing it in the process.

Spyro rose up and embraced his friend, who continued to cry and sob on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Spyro was as devastated as his friend and wanted to do everything he possibly could to help and support her through this hard time.

“Nothing will ever be okay again.” Cynder had to inhale loudly and irregularly to not choke while she was sobbing. “First Malefor and now this.” She remembered the return of the dragon who kidnapped and raised her to be a harbinger of death all those years ago, and he was still out there. If he ever managed to escape Hex’ grasp and attack them again, the dragon wouldn’t even be able to properly defend herself against him.

The friends were heartbroken and comforted each other by hugging and crying out all of the feelings and thoughts that were in their heads. Would Cynder truly have to live her life without ever being able to use her wings again? As terrible as it may sound, that was the reality they were currently in, and there was nothing they could do to change that.

Chill and Roller Brawl soon found Smash Hit relaxing on the beach and enjoying the bright sun, which was slowly disappearing behind a layer of clouds. He held his hands behind his head and looked over to the Skylanders with his one eye before closing it again.

“Where’s Nightfall?” Chill asked directly, disturbing the Supercharger during his tanning session.

“She took the Sea Shadow to look for more clues.” Smash Hit didn’t think about moving in the slightest, even though he could slowly feel the warm sunshine disappearing.

“Golden Queen wasn’t here, we checked everything.” Roller Brawl wanted to get off the islands as soon as possible now. The monsters and Chill’s cold behavior ruined her mood.

The Skylanders then heard something strange beneath the water. They looked at it when suddenly a purple light emerged from the depths and left a black hole behind itself. The Sea Shadow then ascended from the sea and flew above the others’ heads, landing on the yellow beach sand.

Nightfall quickly exited her vehicle and rushed to the others. “Watch out!”

Even Smash Hit opened his eye when a great blue leviathan followed the Sea Shadow by jumping out of the water and flying in mid-air. Before anyone else could react, Chill raised both of her hands and created large icy spikes which pierced right through the creature’s body. Blood spurted out of the wounds and the fish flinched for a few more moments, before the injuries of the spikes took its last breath.

Everyone, including Nightfall, stared at the dead body in shock and then at Chill, who showed a hint of surprise herself.

“Why did you do that!?” Smash Hit got out of his chair and confronted the warrior. “You just killed one of the rarest creatures in Skylands!”

“It was about to attack us.” Chill wanted to justify her actions and looked at Nightfall to confirm her statement.

“It is forbidden to kill them. I wanted to distract it so no one would get harmed.” Even the gloomy dreadwalker seemed mortified by the Water Skylander’s actions.

Chill finally looked over to Roller Brawl who covered her mouth with her hand in shock. The ice warrior couldn’t take it anymore and ran off. The Superchargers looked after her while Roller Brawl decided to follow. The clouds in the sky have turned into a dark grey and covered the entire area. Chill ran over one bridge after the other, she wanted to get as far away from her victim and companions as possible. But no matter how fast she ran, she wasn’t able to outrun Roller Brawl.

The vampire soon caught up to her. “Chill, stop!”

Chill did as she was told and once again stood there without facing her friend.

“I’m worried about you, Chill.” Roller Brawl slowly approached her friend and carefully tried to get closer to her. “We have all hurt and even killed enemies before, but what you’re doing… it’s too much.”

Chill remained silent and didn’t move an inch. She stood there as if she was frozen.

“You’ve been like this for months, and I want to help you, I really do.” The Undead Skylander was now almost right behind the guard and stopped moving. “You just have to let me.”

Chill clenched her fists and Roller Brawl noticed that she was starting to shake. Suddenly, the Skylander turned around with tears in her eyes. “I can’t!”

Out of nowhere, snowflakes gently fell out of the sky and onto the torn friends. Roller Brawl was surprised, but she couldn’t focus on that after seeing her friend like this. She knew that Chill needed help. “Why not?”

“I don’t deserve your help, or anyone else’s.” Chill looked down at the ground and held herself with both arms as if she wanted to warm herself up. “I don’t deserve anything.”

“Don’t say that!” Roller Brawl couldn’t believe what she heard and decided to put her arms onto Chill’s. “You’re my friend and a Skylander, you deserve to be happy.”

“How could I?” Chill removed her friend’s arms by turning back around and looking at her reflection in the water. “How could I after what I’ve done?”

Roller Brawl was afraid she would hear that. She was aware of how deeply affected Chill was by their visit to the Ice Kingdom and her confrontation with the Snow Queen. She put her hand back onto Chill’s shoulder.

“When I defeat those enemies with my spikes, it always reminds me of… her. How I killed her.” Chill started to sob but quickly caught herself and repressed her tears. “I killed my queen.”

Roller Brawl took a deep breath. The vampire has already tried to calm her down before she completely shut her out, but it seems like Chill would never truly get over it. “You know you did the right thing. She wasn’t the queen you remembered. She got corrupted by power and-”

“But I swore to protect her with my life.” Chill looked at Roller Brawl’s glowing purple eyes and tried to not start crying again like she did many times after they returned from that excursion. “I was supposed to be her guardian.”

“I know.” Roller Brawl sighed and wasn’t sure what to do anymore. She finally came to the idea to look at herself as an example and use her own experiences to help Chill. “I’ve been where you are before.”

“You have?” Chill looked at her friend with questioning eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but something similar.” Roller Brawl was talking about the time her brothers got kidnapped and she blamed herself for that. “I also beat myself up over something that wasn’t my fault. I was the victim of the evil intentions of another person. Of course, it can’t be compared to your situation, but I realized that by accepting the fact that it happened and that I can’t undo it anymore, only then will I be able to fix it.”

“But what is there to fix?” Chill used her cold hands to rub the tears out of her eyes.

“You, Chill.” She looked at her friend with a soft smile and felt like she finally understood what this was about. “You may not be able to fix your kingdom, but you can fix yourself.”

Chill was silent for a few moments. The snow falling from above was slowly starting to disappear and the guardian finally returned a smile after so many months. She stretched her arms out and embraced the vampire in a hug. “Thank you, for not giving up on me.”

Roller Brawl returned the hug and was overjoyed that her best friend was finally back. While the friends embraced each other, the dark clouds vanished, and the sun reappeared to complete the warm setting on the beach.

The two Skylanders returned to the Superchargers, this time Chill looked far livelier and more like her old self.

“Did you two talk things out?” Smash Hit asked as he impatiently waited in front of the Dive Bomber to leave before anyone would notice the impaled leviathan.

“You could say that.” Roller Brawl smiled and looked at her friend, who happily returned a smile.

“Then we can go.” Nightfall hopped into her vehicle and the others soon followed.

The Skylanders made their way back to the Academy, where Chill and Roller Brawl would finally spend time together again, and occasionally talk about their feelings with each other rather than shutting them out.