#he just keeps swiping left and FREEZES when he comes across a beautiful picture of you

[pettyprocrastination]

a much funnier way of Frankie getting back into dating: his friends force him to get a tinder account and he finds you on the app.

Spoilers: you guys match.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact: Date #2

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 6.4k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, so much fluff (adkshdaslkfj...yeah. fluff.)

a/n: please, if you feel ok with it, let me know how this date was! Remember, you guys are deciding the outcome. Every little bit of feedback, even if it’s just unintelligible screaming, helps. I’d be very interested to hear your thoughts on how this date differed from last week’s!

Date #2

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It’s safe to say that by this point, you’ve replayed last Saturday’s date in your mind about sixty thousand times. Yet, despite your near-constant analysis, you find that you’re no more prepared for today’s date than before.

Perhaps it has something to do with the way it was described last week, giving you a little insight to how different this date would be compared to the relaxed atmosphere before.

Classic. Romantic. Picture perfect.

Your mind races with the possibilities; heaven knows that could be any of the boys. But you can’t help but expect one in particular to appear on your doorstep.

You shuffle back and forth before your mirror, triple checking your reflection. Jungkook texted you earlier this week with some instructions.

Dresscode was set to casual-nice. Whatever that means.

Make sure you’ve got your T-money card, which gives you access to the Subway.

Your green sweater vest is tucked neatly into your black skirt, giving you a posh academia vibe that you’ve honestly been dying to try out for a while. Hair falling in thick ringlets around your shoulders, the look is complete with black suede boots that only extend up to your ankle.

“Oh yeah,” you grin at your reflection. “I look good.”

And just there, resting atop the sleeves of your turtleneck, sits Hobi’s bracelet. The word ‘jagi’ is facing the ceiling, which is enough to soften your smile, remembering Hobi’s sweet date.

You’d gotten Jungkook’s permission to send a little message to Hobi, thanking him profusely for the date. It’d been fun to get to chat with him for a minute, already missing him. If you’re honest with yourself, you miss hanging out with all of them. It’s only been a couple of weeks since you were last all together, but it feels like months.

The upside to this Saturday is the fact that (after you’d sent some choice texts to Jungkook), you were given a time as to when your date would appear. Which is why you’re sitting on the edge of your seat at six o’clock ticks ever closer, waiting for the tell-tale knock on the door.

Every time a car turns onto your street, you’re leaping up to peek out the window, holding your breath until it passes by. However, this time you find yourself nearly passing out as a sleek black car rolls to a stop in front of your house.

You lose all ability to think straight when Kim Taehyung steps out of the car, straightening his beige cable knit sweater and puffing his cheeks out as he exhales. His black hair tumbles into his eyes, just long enough to brush up against his brows and make him brush it away.

Stumbling back from the window before he can see you spying on him, you bring a hand up to your chest.

“Ok, ok,” you rush to compose yourself. “Holy-”

A happy knock on your door cuts you off, and the only thing you can hope for is that you don’t say something stupid within the first sixty seconds of this date. If you can make past the first sixty seconds, you should be good, right?

Right?

You don’t have time to ponder as you force yourself to take a deep breath and open up the door. Sure enough, there stands Taehyung. Looking like he just stepped out of a French renaissance painting, complete with a smile.

A smile that’s meant for you, you realize with no shortage of shock. Grinning at you while he tilts his head to one side, his hair falls across his face from it’d been semi-parted.

“Hi, my name is Kim Taehyung,” he taps his heels together and extends his hand out. As he swoops into a bow, you can’t help the giggle the bubbles up at the silly scene before you. Gently placing your hand in his, you watch with wide eyes as he brings it to his lips. Planting a soft kiss to your knuckles, he looks up at you from behind his hair. “And you are?”

At this point, you’ve realized that there’s no stopping the mad blush crawling up your neck. Attempting to shake it off with a laugh, you shake your head.

“Are you lost or something?”

Taehyung gasps, stepping back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. “C’mon!” He groans, his smile never faltering. “I was trying to be classy!”

Shrugging, you grab your bag equipped with the essentials (keys, chapstick, mints...more mints), and lock the door behind you. Linking your arm through Taehyung’s and delighting in the momentary surprise that graces his features, you smile up at him.

“Where to, Mr. Kim?”

“Ah! That’s better.” The two of you make it to the car, Taehyung opening the passenger side before hustling over to the driver’s side. Once he’s in and buckled up, he answers your question. “Choose a number between one and ten.” Coming to stop at a stop sign, he looks to you expectantly.

“One.”

He raises his brows, making a show of turning the blinker on to signal turning right. “Good choice. We’ll get there in about...twelve minutes.” You nod, smiling softly. “How have you been?”

“Good. It’s been weird, not getting to hang out with everyone,” you admit. Tae hums in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s been weird not seeing you around the house. What have you been up to?”

The two of you get lost in conversation, relating your most recent horror stories from work or your classes. Taehyung listens raptly, snorting when you mention that you considered bringing your homework with you on the date.

“Seriously!” You laugh. “There’s so much of it. I swear, my professors have all ganged up on me.”

Tae turns into a closed off parking lot, swiping a small card in front of the monitor and pulling forward when the gates swing open. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Hopefully I keep you entertained enough to keep you from doing homework,” he teases.

You gape at the huge building before you, the architectural design enough to have your mouth running dry. It looks like it was taken straight out of ancient Greece, the pillars stretching up high and boasting chiseled divots. Leading to the entrance is a path of hanging wisteria, the soft purple petals swaying in the breeze.

In fact, if you hadn’t currently been sitting in a car that was definitely a product of the 21st century, you would have thought that you’d accidentally time-traveled.

Taehyung’s soft chuckle brings you back to reality, and you watch as he throws the car in park and rushes around to open your door before you even have time to twitch a muscle. You find yourself torn between gaping at the building and the man in front of you, as he extends a hand out to you and pulls you out of the car.

“What is this place?” You ask, afraid to even blink for fear of everything disappearing. Tae gently links your arm through his, which in retrospect was probably a good idea. Heaven knows you’re at risk of wandering off and never returning.

The evening sky does wonders for Taehyung, the sleepy golden sunlight settling over him. “It’s a project that’s been in the works for a long time, actually. They’re bringing together different artworks - some are replicas that they’ve been permitted to use - from all over the world. The best of the best, all in one place.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking up as you enter the small tunnel of hanging wisteria. “It’s not open to the public yet, they just finished moving the final pieces last week.”

You blink, looking up at one of your closest friends with awe. Squeezing his arm, you take a moment to pause and look around at all the beautiful wisteria.

“I’m friends with some of the curators here,” Tae explains when he catches your eye. “They said we could have a look around...if you want to…?”

In response, you wiggle out of his grasp and take off toward the entrance, Taehyung laughing and hurrying after you.

The art museum is, in a word, massive. The two of you fall into a companionable silence as you take in the artwork, occasionally wandering away from each other to get a closer look at something. Every so often Taehyung will call your name, motioning for you to look at a piece he especially likes.

There’s a point where Taehyung is trying to explain the difference between the replicas and the real oil paintings. “See, this one doesn’t have the same kind of sheen, so it’s obviously fake.” He reaches out to touch it, but freezes as soon as his fingers touch the painting.

“What?” You ask, craning your neck to see. He turns to face you with a horrified expression.

“It’s real.”

You choke a laugh, seeing the way he slowly removes his hands from the painting as though afraid to set off a bomb. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, looking up and down the hallway before whispering to you. “Run. They’ll kill me if they find out that I touched that thing with my bare hands. It’s like...three hundred years old or something.”

“Wha-”

“Split up!” He hisses, taking off down the opposite end of the corridor. Heart pounding even as you laugh, you run the other way. Taehyung’s laugh bounces off the walls, only making you laugh even more.

It doesn’t take long before the sun has dipped below the horizon and the two of you find yourselves in a spot dedicated to different sculptures. Sitting down on the bench in front of them, you realize just how long you’ve been up and running around.

“Wow,” you breathe out, Taehyung grunting in agreement. “So you weren’t caught?”

“Not yet, at least.” He fidgets a little beside you before speaking again. “Actually, there’s one more thing left to do here.”

You glance over at him, delighted to see that his hair has somehow grown even fluffier over the course of the date. “What is it?”

“Let me show you.” He hops up, leading the way to the end of the corridor. He enters a small room that’s completely empty save for a white backdrop and a camera.

He walks to the camera, making sure it’s on before gesturing for you to walk before the backdrop.

“Think of it like one giant photo booth,” he explains. “Pose, and I’ll choose a backdrop for you.”

You chew on your lip, feeling a little awkward as you stand before the camera. “What should I do? I’m not used to people taking pictures of me.”

Taehyung frowns. “What do you mean? I take pictures of you all the time.”

Against the start white backdrop, there’s no chance he doesn’t see your blush. “No, er...not like that. I’m not used to posing.”

“Oh.” He steps back, crossing his arms. “Just...smile?”

He snaps a few photos before rushing over to a small printer. You wander over as well, laughing when you see what’s become of your photos.

There you are, smiling awkwardly where Mona Lisa usually sits in her painting. “Oh, that’s horrible.”

“Da Vinci would love it,” Taehyung objects.

“Here, I’ll take your picture.” You run over to the camera while Taehyung steps up front, placing both hands on his hips while looking off into the distance. Selecting the ‘Starry Night’ background, you take the picture.

“Oooh, very nice!” Tae croons when he sees the photo. “But I want both of us in this.”

“What do you mean, both? There’s only enough room for one-”

“We’ll make it work,” Taehyung says as he drags you in front of the camera. Fiddling with it for a moment, he turns back to you. “Ok, it’s set to take four photos in a row. Stay still.”

“How are you going to…?” Your words fade out as a light in the camera begins to blink, counting down. Taehyung comes around you, slipping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Just as the camera flashes for the first photo, Taehyung decides to try his hand at tickling you mercilessly.

You squeal, trying to get away but unable to as Tae keeps his iron-like grip on you. “Stay still!” He scolds in a serious tone, even as a smile is pushing its way onto his lips.

“S-stop!” You can hardly breathe as the attack continues and the camera flashes again. “Tae! You horrible human being-”

Suddenly he drops the attack, standing up straight and smiling at the camera. You take the opportunity just as the final flash goes off to shove him, laughing maniacally. He shouts, stumbling backward dramatically. Taking the temporary distraction to your advantage, you hurry over to where the pictures are being printed. As each photo comes out, you can hardly hold back your laughter.

Picking up the first photo, taken just as Taehyung had decided to attack you, you turn around to face him. “Look at how evil you look here!”

He saunters over, a lazy smile on his face. “Oh-ho, classic.”

Sure enough, the other photos are just as entertaining, although you can’t help but groan at the second photo which shows you with a mixture of laughter and annoyance as Taehyung fights a smile. “Oof, this one isn’t the most flattering…”

“Does that mean I get to keep it?” Taehyung asks quietly, taking the photo from your hands and looking at it closely. “You look cute.”

You blink, but shrug it off. Taehyung has always been a bit more forthcoming with his flirtatious manner, but it’s just now that you realize there was actually some sort of truth behind all of those silly remarks over the past few years.

Huh.

Taehyung checks the time, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, we have to hurry!”

“Why?” You manage to ask before Taehyung takes off in a brisk walk. He grabs your hand, giving you no choice but to try to keep up.

He doesn’t directly answer your question. “You brought your T-money, right?”

“Yeah...but why?”

“Why do I feel like we’re going to get in trouble for this?”

“We won’t. I will.” Taehyung doesn’t look the least bit bothered as he slips a hat on over his hair. “That is, if we get caught.”

“So no pressure.” You say sarcastically, wishing you had some sort of invisibility cloak.

You never knew that the subway could be such a rush. It’s a Saturday night, people are filing in and out of the Subway at a rapid pace as they chat jovially together. Taehyung keeps his head down, attempting to blend in and completely failing.

“Tae, you’re going to be recognized.”

He shrugs. “I do this all the time. Hasn’t happened yet.”

You furrow your brows. “You do? I had no idea.”

“It’s nice to pretend to be normal every once in a while,” he confesses, looking down at his phone. “Just don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret I’ve managed to keep for years.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Pulling up the timer app on his phone, he grins mischievously at you. “Ok. We have 60 minutes to get to three different places.” He holds up his phone for you to see. “First, we’re going to that night market you hit up all the time to get Tteok-bokki, which you love probably way too much-”

“Hey! It’s a healthy obsession!” You defend yourself, only earning an eyebrow raise in return.

“Whatever you say, weirdo. Then, we’re going to that walnut shop - you know the one at the end of the line?”

“We’re going to a walnut shop?”

“Yeah. Namjoon’s got this new obsession with them, so I promised I’d pick some up for him”

You snort. “Ok, and the last spot?”

Taehyung lowers his phone, toggling the timer to 60 minutes and looking at you and chuckling. “It’s a surprise. You ready?”

“Wait, how on earth are we supposed to get to all of these places within an hour?” You ask, incredulous. “Especially if we’re stopping to eat or buy stuff?”

Finger hovering over the start button, Taehyung looks around the busy subway station. “We hurry.” With that, he links his hand with yours and begins the timer. “Run!”

Taking off like thieves on the run, you swipe your T-money card and hurtle past the barrier, rushing to see which line to take. “It’s the red line, right?” You ask, roles switching as it’s now you dragging Taehyung behind you. “Hurry! It’s already here!”

Rushing over to where the red line train is just pulling in, you leap through the doors as soon as they open. Taehyung is right behind you, and the two of you stand off to the side with your faces down and trying to hide your giggles. He leans down to whisper something in your ear, your head automatically tilting to hear him better.

“Keep an eye out for our stop,” he urges, squeezing your hand. You nod, remaining on high alert even as you’re bursting with excitement. You know that if anybody found out that you and Taehyung were out here, looking very much like a couple, you would be toast.

The rush goes straight to your head, pumping you full of adrenaline as your stop approaches. A thought hits you, and you hurry to voice it before you have to jump out and run.

“How are we going to get you through the night market without being recognized?”

“Oh,” Taehyung angles his body toward the door, preparing. “I talked with the owner of the stall you go to. He promised to have the food ready and waiting for us, we just have to meet him in the back.”

You still have no idea how you’re going to make it through the market without being recognized, but there’s no more time for questions as the train slows to a stop and the doors slide open. In a single heartbeat the two of you leap out and take off toward the stairs that will lead you out into the night air.

It’s embarrassing just how much you’re panting by the time you reach the top of the stairs, but you shrug it off as you see the huge crowd mulling outside of the market. Without giving you a single second to doubt, Taehyung plunges into the crowd.

The two of you weave in and out, a startled laugh coming from you as the two of you pass by a stall filled with BTS merchandise. Taehyung hesitates for a moment, almost looking like he wants to stop in, but thinks better of it.

The people around you are so focused on the different stalls and their night out that they pay you no mind as you pass by, bumping into people with every step you take. If only they knew that it was Kim Taehyung bumping into them.

He never lets go of your hand as you make your way to your favorite food stall, for fear of losing you in the crowd. Glancing back at you, Taehyung shouts above the din.

“It’s been almost eight minutes!”

You nod, once again wondering how on earth you’re going to make it to all the places Taehyung has planned. Your mouth runs a little dry as you see the long line of people waiting at the food stall, all of them wanting a taste of the delicious tteok-bokki. Going in a wide circle around the crowd, the two of you end up behind the stall where it’s surprisingly empty.

Taehyung wraps on the back entrance, loud enough to be heard over the loud night. A moment later an elderly man sticks his head out, eyes crinkling with a smile as he sees the two of you.

“Ah, I was just wondering when you’d be showing up! Let me grab your order.” He winks at you guys before disappearing back into the little stall. You take a moment to breathe, looking up at the starry sky. Taehyung joins you, smiling softly.

“Why 60 minutes?” You ask quietly. Taehyung shrugs.

“I make this run whenever I can,” he responds quietly. “I’ve never been able to do it in less than an hour. Thought that it’d be fun to try to break the record with you.”

You laugh quietly. “How come I didn’t know that about you? Why didn’t you invite me before?”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, his other hand still hanging loosely in yours. “The pact.” When you look at him with a confused expression, he goes on. “Think about it: have you ever hung out with any of us just one on one? At least, intentionally?”

You frown, running through your memories. “I mean, yeah, but-”

“Intentionally, though.”

Automatically your thoughts run to the memory of Hobi and that night you’d vented in his car for a solid two hours, tears running down your face. Or that time you’d gone shopping with Taehyung, that was intentional wasn’t it?

“We went shopping that one time,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was an emergency of sorts. Remember? You’d spilled on your shirt and had an interview for your internship soon,” he reminds you. “I took you shopping and dropped you off after.”

You remember that, but there were other times that you just spent time with one of the boys on purpose, right? Taehyung sees your thoughts, giving you another example.

“And that time you sat and talked with Hobi in his car for hours? He’d seen you walking and offered to give you a ride. That obviously wasn’t planned.”

You blink. “How did you know about that?”

Taehyung turns a little pink under the starlight, realizing that he wasn’t supposed to know that. “Hey, it’s not my fault. He wouldn’t shut up about it. But that’s not the point!” He quickly tries to backtrack, mussing his hair yet again.

“Right,” you sigh. “So what does that have to do with the pact? And what does the pact have to do with you and this weird route of yours?” You laugh, Taehyung chuckling nervously along with you.

He opens his mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opens and the same old man appears with a bag of your food. “Here you go!” He happily hands it over to Taehyung, who thanks him and hands him the money and thanks him profusely. You also thank him, smiling warmly.

As soon as the door shuts again, Taehyung is leading you back out into the crowd. He keeps a firm grip on the food, and you stare at it longingly. The two of you manage to make it out of the crowd without any complications, except for the fact that you had to drag Tae away from the merchandise booth.

Descending the stairs to the subway, you glance over at the food again. “Are we gonna eat that, or…?”

He squints at the screen that shows the different lines and arrival times. “We have four minutes before the yellow line gets here.” Stopping at the bottom of the stairs and standing off to the side, he hands you your food, chuckling as you tear into it. He shares it with you, devouring the food at an alarming rate.

It’s embarrassing to say that the two of you finish it with thirty seconds to spare.

“Wow,” you groan, rubbing your stomach as Tae throws the container away. “We’re messed up.”

He chuckles at you, checking the timer. “That, we are. But it was good, right?”

“Ugh, so good. I swear, that place is magic.”

This time, instead of running to the platform, you waddle. You get there just before the doors close, sliding in between the door and pole, which you cling to. Taehyung stands across from you, resting against the pole as well and smiling.

“Ready to go buy some walnuts?”

The question has you giggling. “Definitely.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, waiting for your stop to arrive. The walnut shop sits on the other end of the line, one of the final stops. It takes a few minutes to get there, each second ticking down. Once there’s only one stop left before you have to get off, you ask Taehyung to check the timer.

He raises his brows. “We’re making pretty good time. Thirty minutes left.”

“Nice!” You give him a high five, smiling simply because he is. “Let’s get these walnuts!”

Nevermind the fact that people listening in to your conversation think you’re crazy.

Once you make it to your stop, the two of you settle for a brisk walk rather than running. Together, you walk down the street hand in hand while trying to find the walnut shop.

“You never finished explaining that thing about the pact,” you recall. You’d nearly forgotten amongst the rush of eating and the sleepy subway ride after. Taehyung glances down at you, almost looking a little bummed out that you remembered.

“Oh...right.” He stops on the corner and presses the crosswalk sign. “Well, that’s one of the things about the pact. I never invited you to come along with me because I couldn’t. It doesn’t allow for intentional one-on-one activities.”

“You know how weird that is, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I know. But that’s how it is, I guess. All of those other times you were with any of us, alone, it wasn’t on purpose. It just worked out like that. You know, something about keeping everything even. And, spending too much time alone with you would probably lead to breaking the pact.”

Nodding, you tuck this information away for further examination. “Sounds like you guys thought of everything.”

“Almost.”

“Ok,” you begin to cross the quiet street, this side of Seoul starkly different in comparison with the busy night market. “So what does this route have to do with any of that? Why did you even start doing this in the first place? It’s...all over the place.”

Taehyung chews on the inside of his cheek. “Well...oh! We’re here!”

You roll your eyes as Taehyung bounds up the stairs of the walnut shop, which appears to be nearly closed. Why they’re still open at this time of night is beyond you. Do they really have people coming out to buy walnuts at all hours of the night?

The little shop is warm, and the young girl behind the counter looks anything but shocked as Taehyung enters. She immediately leans down to grab a small bag, placing it in front of her.

“Just the one bag?”

You pause to wonder just how many times Taehyung has frequented this shop for the employees to be so familiar with him. The thought makes you smile, picturing Taehyung sneaking in here late at night just to feed Namjoon’s odd walnut addiction.

“Just the one should be fine,” Tae responds, looking at you over his shoulder with a warm look. You don’t notice it, lost in your own thoughts as you wander over to a display.

Once he’s finished with the transaction, he wanders over to you. “Looks like we might just make it.”

You turn around, looking at him expectantly. “How much time is left?”

“Sixteen minutes. Let’s go,” he holds out his arm for you, which you rest your hand on the inner crook of his elbow. Bidding the girl goodnight, the two of you wander back out into the night.

“Soooo...where to next?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

The subway on this end of the city is much less crowded, it’s easy to find the blue line and hop on. You realize that you’re heading back to a stop fairly close to the night market, which makes you wonder.

“Why’d we go to the end of the line before this?” You ask. “It would’ve been much quicker to go here second.”

“Because,” Taehyung sits beside you, stretching his legs out. “It’s a spot that you can’t rush in. It’s meant to be the final destination.”

Giggling a little, you nudge him. “That sounds a little morbid.”

The Han River glistens from your viewpoint atop the bridge. Sitting next to Taehyung, your feet dangling off the edge, you take a deep breath.

“I see why this had to be the final stop,” you say as you breathe out. The entire Han River lays at your feet, the city lights bouncing off the surface and creating a dazzling atmosphere to rival that of the stars above you. People walk along the edge or ride bikes, their small figures making you realize just how high up you are.

“Mmm,” Taehyung hums beside you. He leans back, glancing over at you as you take in the view. “This is always the last stop.”

You take a moment to allow the sounds of the night wrap around you, tilting your head up to the stars and watching them wink down at you. A profound contentment settles over you, a smile playing on your lips.

“And my last question?” You mumble out. “What’s so special about this route?”

The quiet moment seems to be enough to urge Taehyung to finally answer you. He sits up, admiring the way you look, sitting here on top of the world.

“About a year ago, we all talked about the normal, everyday things you like to do. What we would like to do.”

“I remember,” you muse. “You guys were talking about what you’d do if you weren’t famous. Romanticizing the mediocre.”

“Right.” He slings his arms over the railing, looking out over the people enjoying their Saturday night. “You talked about how you always go to that night market to get tteok-bokki. You basically swore by that one stall, it was hilarious. But you looked so...I don’t know, I just remember thinking, I’ve never seen someone so happy about some cheap night market food. But it made me happy. And then you said that you like to grab your food and head out to the Han River. Enjoy the evening with some good food and a view.”

A slight breeze picks up, ruffling Taehyung’s hair. He hardly notices, wearing an adorable look of concentration as he continues. “And that just seemed...I don’t know, it became this thing for me. Those late nights at work or when we were away, I’d always stop and wonder if you’d gotten to do what made you so happy. But then, I realized that it wasn’t enough for me to just sit and wonder. I wanted to- I wanted...to be there with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of the faraway look in his eyes. How many times had he stopped and wondered if you had gotten to do something that made you happy? Sitting beside this man who is such a force for good, you find that you are entirely out of your element.

“So, whenever I had a chance in the evenings, I’d make up an excuse about picking up some more walnuts for Namjoon’s stash, and I’d head out. They told me to be back in an hour, hence the sixty minutes. But I’d take the train to the night market, go straight to that stall and pick up some tteok-bokki. I knew that I couldn’t just call you up and ask to go with you, and I was kind of selfish and didn’t want the other guys to come along. It was...I don’t know, I wanted it to be our thing. So I’d go there and hope I’d run into you. Make it look like an accident, so we could hang out. Just the two of us.” He laughs quietly to himself. “I sound like a stalker, don’t I?”

You only manage to shake your head, at a complete loss for words. Taehyung continues on, feeling the need to get it all out.

“In my mind, I thought that it would at least take you about fifteen or so minutes to get from the night market to the Han, so I’d run down to grab the walnuts and then head up here,” he gestures to the bridge. “And I’d look out and see if I could spot you. Maybe run down to meet you, pretending to bump into you. Give me...an excuse to see you.”

Taehyung glances over at you for a minute, looking a little embarrassed. You stare back, the shock evident on your face.

“Really?” It’s the only word you manage to get out. He smiles gingerly, huffing out a breath.

“Really. Does it creep you out?”

You snort, scooting over a little closer. Taehyung instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“No.”

“No?”

Taking a deep breath, you take a leap. “Am I allowed to tell you that I sometimes wished I’d run into you?”

Taehyung tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an indescribable emotion. “I don’t think you should.”

You frown. “Why not?”

The moon and the stars as your only witness, Taehyung gives you a long look before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He lingers for a few seconds, his warm lips reminding you of spring after a bitter winter.

When he pulls away, he gazes down at you and you just know that he’s memorizing this moment. Tucking it away for a rainy day, similar to the rain clouds behind his eyes. “I’m scared of hoping.”

In the span of five syllables, he’s completely shattered your heart. It’s now that you recognize that look in his eyes.

How many nights has he sat up here, waiting for you to come along? Hoping that you’d bump into him at the night market, delighted to see him?

Hope can be just as devastating as it is uplifting.

Taehyung sees how you’re dying to reassure him, dying to just give your heart over to him at that moment. He knows it, sees how it could play out. But before you can open your mouth, he’s stopping you.

“For now, let’s just enjoy the view and try to stay warm,” he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. You rest your head against his shoulder, heart still aching from his small confession. “Don’t worry, jagiya. Just remember to have fun, ok? You’ve still got five dates, don’t forget that.”

How could you?

Time ticks by all too quickly as the two of you remain snuggled up together atop the bridge. Eventually you fall into a quiet conversation, Taehyung chatting happily about how he had a mini crisis on night when he came on this route and Namjoon complained about having not finished the walnuts from last night. He’d had to find some other sort of enticing treat that would act as a cover for him.

“When it comes down to it,” he says as the two of you enter the subway and find a seat. “I didn’t want the boys to find out, because I didn’t want them to think I was going behind their backs. They all deserve a chance, and me trying to find a way to bend the rules wouldn’t have gone over well.”

You marvel at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, sighing contentedly as the subway rumbles on. “You always have been a rule-breaker.”

You’re exhausted from having run all over Seoul, nearly falling asleep as you get back to Taehyung’s car. He grins at you, turning on the heater and beginning the drive back to your apartment. Your eyes struggle to remain open, slipping closed every few seconds.

“Sleep, jagiya,” Taehyung urges. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“N-no,” you say between yawns. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung chuckles to himself when you fall asleep about thirty seconds later. The sound drifts into your dreams, where you dream of art museums and the Han river.

Needless to say, you’re a bit disappointed to be woken up from your beautiful dream when Taehyung opens up the passenger side door and crouches before you. He can’t help but laugh at how adorable you look, completely disoriented and staring at him like you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” he whispers. “We’re home.”

Gently unbuckling your seatbelt, Taehyung helps you out of the car and only continues to laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head in his chest.

“I’m so tired,” you groan. “I wanna go to bed.”

“Well, you can. You just have to unlock your door first, jagi.”

Somehow, in your half-asleep state you manage to fish your keys out of your bag. Taehyung helps you unlock the door, swooping in to help you when you nearly trip over your doorway.

“Woah, watch where you’re going,” he teases. Suddenly the world turns sideways as Tae places his hands under your knees and around your waist, literally sweeping you off your feet. “How about we get you to bed in one piece?”

Some small, semi-conscious part of your brain is currently screaming about how embarrassing yet attractive this entire situation is, but for the life of you, you can’t tell why. Instead, you opt to nuzzle in a little closer to Tae’s sweater as he uses his foot to kick the door shut.

“I love this sweater,” you mumble, eyes falling shut again. “You look so good in this sweater, did you know that?”

“Oh...thanks. And yes, that’s why I wore it.”

You hiss, swatting at his chest. “That was very narcissistic of you.”

“You’re too tired to walk, but you’re using words like narcissistic?” He shoots back. Making his way through the dark house, he enters your room and sets you down on the edge of the bed. You sit up straight, watching as his silhouette turns on your bedside lamp. Squinting at him, he crouches down before you, resting a light hand on your knee.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back. “You need anything before I go?”

Always finding a way to push the limits, you smirk down at him. “Are kisses really off-limits- ow!” You rub your knee where he just flicked it, appalled at him as he straightens up.

“Don’t get greedy,” he teases with a raised brow. Heading out of the room, he turns back to look at you from the doorway. “Goodnight.”

It’s this moment that you memorize. The way the light from the lamp barely reaches him, his dark hair a little messy and a tired smile on his face. The way he leans up against your door, looking for all the world like he belongs here.

“Goodnight, Tae.”

Your ears strain to hear his footsteps, a fissure forming in your heart as you hear him closing the door and driving off into the night. Eventually, sleep takes over.

Even as you dream, the feeling of being wrapped up in Taehyung’s arms while sitting above the Han River lingers.

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again, your opinion matters! especially in this series! if you’re comfortable with it, please please please comment or send me an ask with your thoughts! (i.e. chemistry, how this date differed from Hobi’s date, ect.) thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next Saturday with date #3!!

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taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @delacyrose224 @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall​

[missinghan]

what if we ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au

❖ word count : 4,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : Minho is more than fed up with your nonsense of not having a roommate until you graduate because he’s desperately in need of a new place after getting kicked out.

❖ a/n : the continuation of roommate lino is out now!

one.

Minho takes dreadful strides into M.I.A Cafe, completely waterlogged from head to toe like a wet rat, drained from trying to walk back home without an umbrella—even if he had one, the wind would have taken him along with it on an exhilarating ride while Poseidon is throwing a rampage at Zeus or whatever gods up there.

He slumps into the nearest seat possible, sinking deeply into the cushioned surface only to stain the blue velvet with his sodden leather jacket. Anyone else happening upon the scene might notice a more than average looking college kid; Minho’s mesmerizing, he really is. But not just because of his catlike smile or stupidly good hair without even trying, it’s also because he’s the president of the dance club despite being a business major. It’s not hard for him to gain even more attention since he works at the cafe on campus anyway. 

However, all Woojin sees from overlooking his workplace is his idiotic coworker who left ten minutes ago has officially given up on going against the bloody family feud above and come back to make his life miserable. Kang is going to give him shit for the wet cushions because Minho’s shift has fortunately ended. And it only gets worse from there. The younger boy pushes himself off the chair and flings his dripping bangs away from his face before taking off his jacket, deciding it’s a good idea to sway it back and forth, splashing water all over the clean floor.

“Lee Minho,” Woojin raises his voice slightly but Minho simply ignores his threatening tone and stuffs his leather jacket into his backpack. 

The brunet makes his way over to the countertop, hopping effortlessly onto one of the bar stools. “I would like a Vietnamese coffee, please,” Minho shows his friend those ridiculous looking sparkly eyes like he just stepped out from an anime, and Woojin forces a smile through gritted teeth. “Come on, I’m tired, don’t look at me as if I’m in charge of the weather or something.”

Woojin remains silent, and so does his death glare. Hence, Minho gives in and props his head onto his hand lazily. “Fine, just give me a hot chocolate, I’m freezing over here,” he shivers stoically as his brain is multitasking (yelling at him and considering his options at the same time). With the sky roaring as if it’s raging on with other supernatural forces, Minho isn’t overly fond of heading outside by himself again. Meaning, plan A: get a ride or plan B: stay with Woojin until his graveyard shift is over. Minho’s having an eight AM tomorrow and he’s not about to walk up to the nurse’s office with a broken ankle for skipping three steps at a time. But in what world would a guardian angel appear out of nowhere to drive him home?

A random Twitter notification pops up and he swipes it away dejectedly, wholly uninterested. When Woojin slides the paper cup across the countertop, he catches a glimpse of Minho’s lock screen and gasps as if he just saw something out of the ordinary. It’s not. “You replaced your cats’ photo with Y/N’s instead? Okay, I see you, you sly little bitch,” he chuckles creepily while wiping his hand onto the white apron. 

“It’s temporary,” Minho sneers like a cat having someone step on its tail. “Besides, she hates it, that’s why I put it there.” 

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Woojin is making a big deal out of this as if it’s a picture of you cuddling Minho or something. But in reality, it’s just a really ugly photo of you taking too big of a bite when he decided to flex his paycheck and took you out to a pizzeria. You forgave him because 1) you had the opportunity to eat real pizza after months of stocking up frozen ones from the supermarket, and 2) it’s only a matter of time until he’s over it and returns to his typical photos of his cats at home. 

“Yo,” Minho says after a sip of the hot beverage. “You’re moving out of Seungmin’s next week?”

Woojin replies, silently appreciating one of the rare civil conversations with his friend. “Yep, you? Don’t tell me that you haven’t found a place yet,” he stops himself right there, only to be met with complete dead silence. “Wait, you’re kidding, right? Aren’t you getting kicked out on Monday? How are you gonna find a place within three days?”

“Tough luck?” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, staring rather deeply at his lock screen, and an idea pops up inside his head. He feels the need to kick himself because he should have thought of this sooner. Biting his lower lip, he’s slightly nervous when his thumb taps onto your name in his contact. It’s not like you’re gonna rip his head off, why is he so jumpy about this anyway?

His train of thoughts get cut off when your raspy voice rings through his eardrums, “What do you want?”

two.

Your white Rover pulls up in front of the cafe after five minutes of cursing at him through the phone while dragging yourself out of bed and another ten to drive to your unwanted destination. 

“Get in before I rip your head off,” you deadpan, pushing your bangs away from your face. 

“I love you, did you know that?” Your heart totally didn’t skip a beat at that. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have meant it. It was lighthearted, it sounded lighthearted but was it supposed to be lighthearted? Great, now your heart just gives up on you while your brain is harassing you with some stupid assumptions without valid shreds of evidence. 

Minho smiles sheepishly at you after waving to Woojin—who isn’t very interested in his departure and enters your car in relief. Although you were doing nothing but spitting strings after strings of curse words at him, it genuinely made him feel at ease when he heard your voice through the phone, hanging by three percent of battery left. 

“Also, spill the hot chocolate, and I’m gonna throw you on the highway,” you warn him before starting the engine. The only problem with your morbid remarks is that Lee Minho is exclusively immune to them because he too, shares the same amount of insanity with you like how you both shared a sad tuna sandwich last Tuesday when the school canteen tried to recreate a Chipotle bowl. You both tasted it. And you were offended. 

Minho tosses his backpack to the backseats and replies in monotone, “I won’t, just don’t kill us. That’s all I’m asking from you.” He looks awfully good for someone who’s completely rain-soaked. How fucking unfair.

“That’s all?” you question without looking at him in the eye. He only hums a random melody from a song that you can’t quite remember before plugging his phone in with your speakers. Your face morphs into a frown at his vague reaction, “Usually one thing leads to another, you never ask me for a single favor and just leave me alone, are you sure that you didn’t forget your wallet and now you wanted a new tattoo?” 

He breaks into a fit of giggles at that, three are already enough for his ancestors to haunt him in his sleep. And your heart magically comes back more alive than ever at the sound; it really needs to stop doing that before you’re found dead on the street just by talking to him on the phone or something. “It’s not that,” Minho scratches the nape of his neck. “I’m basically gonna be homeless next week if I don’t manage to find a new place in like...three days.” 

The car grows silent for a second there before Didn’t know me by Heize starts blasting through the speakers when he puts one of his playlists on random. You look over at him deep in the eye, thinking rather thoroughly about this. And Minho starts feeling knots in his stomach when you avert your gaze back onto the road. Are you perhaps...mad at him?

“Don’t-even-think-about-it,” you deadpan. “You know how Yeji pleaded to move in with me after freshman year, and..failed miserably.”

“Come on! You can’t be this heartless, are you really gonna let me sleep on the sidewalk for a good three weeks?”

You click your tongue in annoyance while making a turn to the left. “I never said that you moron,” An eye roll soon follows your statement, and before Minho can even say anything, his mouth snaps shut, eyes wide. “You know that Chan lives alone right?”

He protests, “Chan always let Changbin and Jisung crash to make music. Besides, it’s a studio apartment, like hello? I’m not planning on losing my beauty sleep here. ”

“Woojin?”

“After the mess I made back there? He will murder me, Y/N,” Minho says without a single shred of fear in his voice, yet he’s giving you those Puss in Boots eyes as if he’s gonna let Woojin snap his head off that easily. Jeongin is still living on campus, and Minho would rather be sleeping with dead rats than sharing a room with Jisung because Seungmin would never let him step a foot onto his white carpet. 

You scrunch your nose and ignore the golden specks in his eyes, “You didn’t even try asking him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind housing you for a few weeks. He’s a good guy and definitely doesn’t hate your ass enough to not let you sleep in the living room.”

“But,” he pouts sadly, in which you’re completely unaffected by. But here’s what makes your chest swell. “I like spending time with you,” he mumbles under his breath. Huh? Your heart rate falls flat before coming back to thunder inside your chest cavity twice as fast. Did he really just-

Minho sighs, and suddenly his shoulders start getting heavy. He feels rejected, but he shouldn’t since it’s not mandatory for you to let him stay with you. Perhaps, he’s nothing but a complete nuisance in your eyes after all. “But if you say so,” he murmurs, eyes turning stormy and you can feel a pit at your stomach. “I guess I’m gonna call Woojin then..”

And he ends the conversation there, abruptly. 

Raindrops knocking at your car’s windows. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keyboard. Even your own rhythm of breathing. Everything’s piling onto your back as if you’ve just committed a terrible sin. 

Woojin is really busy this year, preparing for grad school and everything. And your current courses are pretty easy to handle, it’d be mean of you to let him contain Lee Minho while working two jobs. Especially when he’s constantly turning in assignments at a single minute right before the deadline. So with the little amount of morality left, you tell yourself to stop being a little bitch and start considering the possibilities of having a roommate for the very first time. 

“Fine,” you grumble after a good twenty seconds of thinking. “You can use my old air mattress, a month should be good before you’re able to find a new place. So we’re taking turns washing the dishes and splitting the bills in half, cool?”

Minho’s brain suddenly demands every part of his body to stop, his finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. “Gee okay, I get it, you don’t like having roommates. But you don’t have to be so pressed about it,” he concludes almost too fast for your brain cells to comprehend what’s going on in his mind. Was he even listening to you? “I knew you weren’t gonna let me stay with—“ His words instantly come to a halt, eyeballs ready to pop out of their respective sockets any second. 

“What?” he blurts, round eyes staring right at you expectantly. 

You scratch your nose with your ring finger when a coral tint rises on your cheekbones, something that you do a lot whenever you’re nervous. “I said you can come and stay with me for the time being,” you say lamely, having a spontaneous interest in the row of Sumikko Gurashi figures that Minho gave you on your birthday last year. “I don’t want you to poison Woojin with your cooking, roomie.”

“You’d better feed me then, Ramsay,” he beams with a bright smile—far brighter than the Sun itself and any of the stars above. And who were you kidding? It’s not his cooking that you’re worrying about. It’s not even Woojin that you’re worrying about. It’s him, you’re worried about him.

Besides, maybe you like spending time with him too. 

three.

After a whole night of hauling three gigantic cardboard boxes along with two suitcases into your apartment, you drag Minho’s ass out of bed at nine in the morning, push him into your car and slowly reverse out of your apartment’s parking lot. 

He’s not very attentive to his surroundings when he’s tired so he didn’t mind the monotonous voice of the news reporter coming out of the speakers. Whereas, he would have yelled at you by now to shut it off so he can blast his Spotify playlist at maximum volume to annoy people who apparently don’t know how to park their cars properly. Still, he only finished unpacking half of his luggage at four so it didn’t occur to him how little time he spent half-sleeping against your car’s window. 

It didn’t occur to him how you managed to maneuver him out of the vehicle either. But when his eyes start hurting from rubbing them too much, Minho realizes that you’re piloting him through an old couple shopping hand in hand, a sweaty man in his mid-forties wearing a tracksuit and a child tugging at his mom’s skirt, begging for a lollipop. He gazes downward, eyes stop dead in their tracks seeing your hand intertwined with his while your free one is scrolling through the list of groceries on your phone. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, glad that you’re finally awake,” the amount of sarcasm laced in your tone just makes the blush on his cheeks disappear in the span of half a second. 

Minho makes a face and pulls his hand back to grab a cart, trailing after your footsteps grimly like an obedient puppy. “Waking up early was not in the contract,” he lets out the loudest yawn possible without covering his mouth, no manners whatsoever. “That lawsuit for child labor? Pending.”

You chuckle dryly and toss a box of oatmeal cookies into the cart, not really caring that he’s sleepy and tired. You’re the one who’s driving after all. “It technically is,” you say with a meek smile and turn around, watching him throw in a bag of popcorn, barbecue flavored chips, and other junks that scream college staple food. He told you that he’s making use of the school’s gym five times a week but seeing the amount of trash that’s piling up, you doubt that his efforts are gonna matter at this point. 

“I told you that we’re grocery shopping every Monday morning because we both don’t have classes on Monday mornings.”

Minho only groans loudly like a damsel in distress until you both reach the vegetable aisle. He immediately goes for the asparagus and broccoli, probably to water down the amount of sodium from the chips. 

You’re not sure if it’s just because he’s sleepy but the rest of your banter while raiding the supermarket is fairly civil. In short, it’s the most normal conversation you’ve ever had with him. Not that you’re complaining, it's actually really nice to see how he also has a soft side to him. Not only did Minho grab the chicken breasts for Chan because that guy cannot live without them, but he also called Changbin to check which flavor of the protein bar that he prefers. It seems like he’s gonna crash at Chan’s place for an upcoming secret project. 

When you both queue up at the self-checkout line, he observes the light blue packaging of your shampoo curiously. He notices how you stopped getting the twelve ounces bottle and went for the twenty-four ounces one instead. 

“You’re still using this one? I thought you said you wanted to change it up every time?” He asks, propping his head onto your shoulder lazily. Minho remembers how you started to try out this brand three months ago and he laughed his ass off at you for being so determined to go through all of their scents. It’s dumb, yes, but he commented on every single one of them anyway. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

Your body tenses up when he sniffs at your hair, nose brushing against the back of your ear, and it’s not helping either when his forearms are resting against the lines of your waist so he can hold onto the cart while you’re too busy bombarding Yeji with questions about the frat party she attended last night. You’re basically trapped between him and the cart; you can’t believe you’re only realizing that just now. 

“Hold up, I thought you usually go grocery shopping alone?” Yeji flips the table and inquires slyly on the other line, then she lets out an audible gasp. It’s so loud that Minho staggers backward from surprise, almost hitting the cart behind. “Is that Lee Minho?! Y/N, what are you two doing at the Asian market at ten AM? Together?!”

Words spill out of your mouth before you can even process them properly. “We saw each other coincidentally and ended up using the same cart.” And now you want to put your head through a wall because what kind of an answer was that? Your brain had to malfunction at that very moment, in the middle of that very call, it just had to. “Okay, whatever, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow during Park’s lecture, see you,” you hang up just like that, not knowing how to act because now you have to tell Yeji about how you—a complete loner—is finally having a roommate. But that roommate isn’t her specifically. 

“You good? You look a bit..feverish,” Minho rests a hand on your forehead while his free one pushes the cart forward. Still in a daze, your heart shudders, and your back accidentally comes in contact with his chest, making you drop your phone onto the carton of eggs in a panic. “Careful there, that’s two months worth of eggs,” he reminds you, clearly not having a single clue of how giddy you are right now. 

Also, saying that you’re giddy is an understatement. 

You shake your head and mutter, “Right, sorry, you were saying?”

“I just asked why you stopped trying the rest of the scents and committed to April Cotton so easily.”

“It’s because you said it’s the best one so far,” you answer honestly, almost too honestly because right now, Minho feels like someone’s using his heart to juggle right inside his chest cavity. 

four.

That night, after Minho’s monstrous shift at the cafe and three hours of you FaceTiming Yeji to procrastinate about a writing assignment, you both are sprawled across your white fuzzy carpet that sheds more than three of his cats combined. 

In between is an empty cup of McFluffy, a sad piece of pepperoni pizza and leftover fries, all being placed on a piece of newspaper because Minho’s promised you that if he ever dirtied your carpet, he’d take you to a concert. His bank account isn’t ready for that yet. A Dog’s Way Home just ended two minutes ago and as the ending credits roll, you’re all curled up inside your over-sized hoodie, sniffling into a piece of tissue. 

“Day one with your new roommate here and you’re already shedding tears Jesus Christ,” Minho tells you after stretching his limbs out tiredly, eyes becoming droopy.  

“Shut up,” you punch his arm and laugh, wiping the remaining of your tears with your sleeves. “I swear I saw your eyes watering when Bella reunited with Big Kitten.”

“They did not?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin when he settles back down onto the floor, supporting his head with his hands. To be fair, the CGI was kinda shitty, a little bit noticeable but the reunion was too emotional for him to care about something as meaningless as that. 

Minho ignores how you’re mumbling something and instead, turns onto his side and grabs a piece of fries, chewing obnoxiously. “So, Y/N,” he inquires rather cautiously. “How does it feel like to finally have good company along with good food?” 

You hum for a while but answer with little consideration, eye closed, “I could use someone with a smaller mouth, and a smaller ego too but yeah, it’s kinda dope.” And you open one side of your eyes to see him being the literal CTRL+V of the surprised Pikachu meme. He looks betrayed, as if someone just sneaked into your apartment and snatched all of his packets of instant ramen in one go, just like whoosh, out the door they go with his daily breakfast. 

“It feels kinda nice too,” you proceed to continue, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact with him. “Because I know although this person acts like an asshole most of the time, he’s just a really big softie on the inside. I like how he called his friends in the middle of his shopping trip to see if he’s getting them the right flavor of protein bars, how he paid for the groceries even though we’re equally broke, and how he skipped dance practice to volunteer at a nursing home every weekend.” 

You’re not looking, but you’re pretty sure that Minho’s smile is growing so big, his cheeks are about to crack in half. “I didn’t tell anyone about that,” he stifles a laugh. “It’s either you’re somewhat a creep or you’re just really cautious about what kind of people you let into your life.”

“I’m a loner, what can I say?” You chuckle lightheartedly, feeling slightly fuzzy inside for no particular reason. “I am really cautious when it comes to stuff like that because the more you let people into your life, the more it hurts when they decide they’re gonna leave you.”

“Hah! So that’s why you’re so stubborn about the whole not having a roommate thing?” You nod sheepishly at that, feeling kinda embarrassed because it feels like he’s unraveling your secrets right under your nose. 

The signature catlike smile lingers on his lips when you turn on your right to face him, and your useless heart thinks it’s a good time to skip a beat when your eyes meet his round ones with ridiculously beautiful lashes. You’ve never felt like this towards anyone before, it’s risky, you know it but you think you can trust him. You can trust Lee Minho. 

Although he wasn’t this big, sassy persona that has a questionable obsession with cats and dancing when you first met him. You encountered Minho for the very first time backstage at the school’s music festival to support 3RACHA’s performance. Initially, he made absolutely no effort to even greet you like how a civil human being would, but he was intrigued when he saw the SpiderMan plush keychain on your backpack. And it seemed like fate was only trying to push both of you closer together because you kept bumping into him on campus. So it’s only a matter of time before he decided that he hated eating lunch alone and asked for the empty seat next to you, offering you his watered-down cup of coffee. 

“What made you change your mind then? Why not just reject me?” Minho scoots closer to you, eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

“Because I feel like..you won’t be leaving me anytime soon..”

“Damn right, I can never stop bothering you.”

You don’t know where, how, or why you can muster every fiber of courage left inside of you to tell him that. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Maybe this is a sign, the universe wants you to stop being so closed up all the time and open up to new people (regardless of how shitty you think they are) because life’s way too short to play the role of the lone traveler on this planet. And it’s madness to think that all it took this boy was half a cup of Vietnamese coffee and a call at such an ungodly hour for your heart to be completely his. Nothing’s gonna change much, you think. You’re gonna still free-fall into this hellhole called ‘college’ with your first world problems like everyone else but the only difference is that you don’t have to be alone anymore. There’s a hand for you to hold, a shoulder for you to lean on and your heart has found its new home. You don’t think you’ve ever felt it being so alive before. However, you’re not against it even when you’re still dubious. 

Because that’s how you’re supposed to feel your entire life. 

❖ p/s : I hope you enjoyed this little monster that I managed to whip up in the past few days, I thought it’d be nice if I could give you guys smth as a “parting gift” for my [rest]. I was very, very sleep-deprived as I proofread this so please don’t come for me & I’ll see you in the next fic!

[ri-ahhh]

desperate

Grayson makes his girlfriend all kinds of desperate by posting those photoshoot pictures for everyone to see

warnings: long af, about 4.6K, but mostly sexy times

***

MJ Macias is in a hurry as she huffs and struggles across the threshold of the front door and into the Dolan boys’ house. She practically lives there, so she had taken it upon herself to do the weekly food shop for all three of them. Her arms are laden with reusable shopping bags that are filled to the brim with groceries from Trader Joe’s, so she bumps the door closed with her hip behind her before waddling as fast as she can into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she greets Ethan hurriedly, heaving up and plopping down the heavy bags onto the granite countertops.

Ethan stands in the middle of the kitchen, minding his own business, eating a banana and scrolling on his phone. He nods his head in return, his mouth otherwise occupied by a mouthful of fruit.

MJ whips off her sunglasses and tosses them with her keys onto the island catch-all plate, simultaneously toeing off her AF1’s. “Can you do me a solid and put those away, please?” she asks. Her body feels hot despite the fact that they keep their AC on typical-boy freezing temperatures. “I gotta, um…take a poop. Yeah.”

Ethan eyes her suspiciously and chomps off another bite of his banana as he does so. Her flushed face, her twitchy hands, her slightly breathless voice, are all telling a different story. Unfortunately, he’s around his brother and his girlfriend often enough to know their horny tells, which are usually his cues to get the hell away from them; those two really didn’t give a fuck who was around when they got desperate enough.

“No you don’t. You saw his douchey Instagram post, didn’t you?”

MJ at least has the decency to blush a little as she rolls her eyes and digs through the black hole of her purse in search of her phone. There was no point in denying it if he was gonna call her out like that. “Fine! Would you rather me tell you I’m off to suck your brother’s dick? Because I am.”

Ethan retches a little. Drama queen. He looks down at the half-eaten banana in his hand, grimaces, and sits it on the countertop he had just been leaning against. “Ugh. So many terrible, terrible images I can’t stop now.”

Phone in hand, MJ is already halfway to the hallway when she stops and turns to give him a deadpan look. “You’ve caught us full-on fucking, E. Just think, you’ve already seen worse.”

She smirks when he groans loudly, his head tipping back exasperatedly. If there’s one thing that provides her with endless entertainment, it’s pushing her boyfriend’s brother’s sometimes oversensitive buttons. “Okay, okay, MJ, leave now please, before you inflict more mental scarring on my poor virgin brain. I’ll just… pretend like I don’t have any idea what’s going on in there.”

MJ scoffs. ‘Virgin brain’ is the biggest lie she’s ever heard pass his lips.

It also jogs a helpful memory in her head from two nights ago.

It started when she had woken up in the middle of the night completely parched, and padded herself sleepily into the kitchen at 3 AM for some water. The muffled yet tell-tale noises breaking the silence blanketing the rest of the house should have been her warning, but in her defense, she had still been half asleep. Cut to zombie-esque MJ suddenly turning wide awake when she rounded the corner to find Ethan on his knees on the kitchen floor, his head buried between his girlfriend Evie’s legs where she sat perched on the counter. A nearly inaudible squeak of surprise was the only thing she had left behind before booking it back to bed, leaving the couple none the wiser in the dim light of the kitchen.

She had still been thirsty, she remembers grumpily, and was left with her own mental images burned in her mind, which she had spent a good portion of the rest of that night trying to put out.

It’s only fair, as payback, that he doesn't find out that she and Gray have been in the exact same position several times before.

Alright, so it’s a little hypocritical for her to continue to dig at him, but she does so anyways without any guilt whatsoever. “Hm. Well, at least we’re behind closed doors. You should probably remember: the kitchen is for cooking, not for eating.”

She gives him a grin and a pointed look at the counter behind him, leaving Ethan looking momentarily confused before understanding dawns on him. “MJ, shut up. Serious— wait!”

“Thanks for putting the food away, E!” she calls over her shoulder as she continues across the living room, laughing heartily at the furious blush on his face.

MJ is still chuckling when her phone buzzes in her hand. Her heart lifts when she sees it’s from Grayson, asking if that was her he could hear Ethan yelling at. She swipes the text notification away and bites her lip as she stares at the new photo that is her background wallpaper. Thousands of other girls are probably looking at that picture of him laying in bed the same way she is now. What they don’t have, she thought smugly, is the real thing waiting for them on the other side of a door.

That’s exactly what she finds when she enters their room: him sprawled out on that very bed, looking superbly comfy in his athletic shorts and soft t-shirt, barefoot, his skin a fresh golden tone from doing laps in the pool earlier today. His eyes dart away from his phone, which he tosses to the other side of the bed when he hears her come in.

“I thought that was you,” he says with a bright smile, reaching his arms out to her. “C’mere. I haven't seen you all day.”

Not exactly true, as they had crossed paths a few times in passing in the morning, but the effect had been there since they were both separately busy. She doesn’t correct him and ignores his grabby hands, too, despite how much her body longs to dive into them.

She shuts the door quietly behind her, her green eyes appreciating the real-life version of the man in those photos. Those photos that she had gotten a tiny preview of a few days ago when Grayson had showed her the email, but were nothing compared to the final product. When she saw his Instagram post right when she got in her car to come home, her mind, heart, and pussy were all instantly fighting with each other to process the coinciding beauty and sexiness of the images blessing her eyes.

Now, she wants to take the time to appreciate every aspect of him. To let her brain wrap around how he can be so beautiful inside and out; to let her heart simply feel how much she loves him; and to let her body be a tool for his enjoyment.

Her lust must be evident on her face as she stares at him, unmoving from her spot by the door, because Grayson’s bright smile turns knowing. He loves the effect it has on her when he shows off what’s really hers to his millions of followers. It’s mostly why he does it. Admittedly, he’s self-aware enough to realize he thrives off the praise and attention from his fans, but he’s also selfish enough to do it simply for the rise it gets out of his beautiful girlfriend; he knows it could only end in his favor.

He also knows MJ like the back of his hand by now, and he hasn’t seen her this turned on without him even touching her since he made that post in Australia about saving the duckling. The marathon session he had been rewarded with after that was unmatched to this day.

Grayson has a feeling now might be the time.

MJ is finally brought back to her senses a little bit when he shifts up the pillows to get more comfy and to allow himself a better view of what he knows is about to go down. She takes off her black baseball cap and tosses it to the corner of the bedroom, eyes never leaving his as she shakes out her wavy waist-length hair. Her delicate fingers tug at the drawstring of her grey sweats — the very ones of his that he’s wearing in the pictures, actually — and steps out of them when they fall to the floor. Finally, her casual black body suit is all that adorns her body, and she pulls the spaghetti straps down her arms so it can slide to the ground as well.

Grayson licks his lips and let’s his hazel eyes absorb the delectable curves of her body as she stalks over to him like a panther on the hunt for her prey. She climbs onto the bed with their eyes still locked, small smiles tugging at both of their lips, until she’s straddling his fully-clothed waist.

“Who gave you permission to be that sexy online?” she asks quietly, combing his hair back with the manicured fingers of one hand and using the other to steady herself on his shoulder as she sits back and wastes no time rocking her hips over his lap. “Making all those girls want you. Jealous they can’t have you.”

Grayson bites his plump lower lip and brushes her long tresses over her shoulders so her tits are fully exposed for him. He takes a few moments to admire his favorite part of her body while his large hands find her hips to help her grind against him. He can feel her wetness already seeping through his shorts, and it makes him dizzy that she’s this turned on by him without him having to do anything at all.

“I thought you liked it when I make other girls jealous,” he retorts, meeting her eyes once again with a grin. MJ gasps when his hands sweep upwards to cup her sensitive breasts, where he rubs his thumbs a couple of times teasingly over her nipples before dropping one down to swipe through her slit. He moans when he brings the digit to his mouth, sucking the coating of her sweet, earthy arousal off his skin. “Mm. In fact, I know you like it.”

He’s so perfectly feeding into this sexy-and-I-know-it douchebag fetish of hers and it’s making her head swim dangerously. MJ moans herself and pushes his hand away from his mouth so she can kiss him deeply, sloppily, her tongue finding his in his mouth and sliding alongside it sensually.

“I fucking love it,” she whispers hotly when they pull back for air, her chest heaving with both desire and the attempts to catch her breath.

She uses the downtime to take hold of the hem of his shirt and tug upwards. Grayson lifts his arms in assistance until the garment is over his head and thrown across the room. MJ’s fingers are instantly drawn to the newest addition of body art inked into him: the black-and-grey photorealistic peach on his ribs.

For all intents and purposes, it’s her name etched into his skin forever. Usually when she sees it, it just makes her heart extra soft for him. Now, it only drives her lust for him through the roof, because if only those millions of people knew what that peach really meant.

MJ dives back in to kiss him again, both of their hands grabbing at every bit of exposed skin they can reach as their lips and teeth and tongues clash roughly, perfectly. They make out like that for a few more minutes until MJ’s finally able to comprehend that he’s fully hard beneath her. She could very easily keep grinding on him until she came, but she decides to focus on him. Really, it’s almost selfish how desperate she is to make him cum first.

Her breaths are loud and heavy as she bites her lip and scoots down his body with a grip in the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down with her. Grayson lifts his ass off the bed and hisses when his dick springs free, hot and hard and throbbing for her. MJ’s mouth waters at the sight, and she sits back on her knees with her eyes glued to him as she throws her hair up in a messy bun. With it sufficiently pulled out of her face, she settles on her belly in-between his legs, getting comfy; she’d be there for a while if she has it her way.

Her legs naturally bend at the knees and cross at the ankles, looking innocent and seductive as she takes him in one petite hand, the other scratching her long nails along the skin of his abdomen, hip, and upper thigh. She makes sure his eyes are on hers when she turns her head and licks up the whole underside of him like an ice cream cone. Grayson sighs and interlaces his fingers behind his head to watch her work, just like the spoiled prince she’s treating him as.

“You’re so hot,” she murmurs after giving the head a lascivious kiss. Grayson moans softly and throws his head back, swallowing hard when she follows it with a gentle suckle of the whole tip — just teasing little snippets of what’s to come. “Makes me crazy how sexy you are, Bear.”

With that, she dips her head lower and takes more of him in her warm, wet mouth a few times, then pulls back and drizzles some of the saliva pooling in her cheeks onto his dick. She repeats this again. And again. And again, her eyes shining mischievously as she watches him get more and more worked up the longer she goes without giving him exactly what she knows he wants.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hazel eyes glazed over as she spreads the considerable amount of slickness from her mouth all over his shaft. She’s got him as desperate as she set out to, which is only confirmed when he finally begs, “Suck it, baby, please.”

MJ grins against his skin and, with his dick sufficiently wet, gives in instantly. She dips her head and takes the first couple of inches into her mouth, then a few more on the next pass, until finally she has enough of him in her so that his tip is tickling the back of her throat. She hollows her cheeks and twists her hand on the way back up, continuing until she’s got a rhythm and pressure that has him moaning unashamedly amidst the filthy sounds created by her mouth on him.

“So fucking good,” he groans, gripping the base of her messy bun and holding her down so her spit and drool pools at the base of him, dripping down his balls. Tears start to stream from her eyes as MJ allows him to keep her there until she has to tap his hard stomach, trying to lift off of him to gasp for air.  

Grayson pulls up on her hair at once to let her, swiping at the tears on her freckled cheekbones for her as well. MJ giggles breathlessly and strokes one hand over him while the other cradles his sac. “Because you have the best dick, Gray. So big and thick and nice. I love your dick,” she moans and ducks down to suck one of his balls into her mouth, giving it a warm bath before the other gets the same treatment. “Mmm. Want it back in my mouth right now.”

“Yeah,” he growls, his eyes shutting momentarily when her lips wrap back around him. He doesn’t want to miss a second of her pretty face so close to his cock, though, so he opens them once again and demands, “Wanna fuck your mouth.”

God, yes. “Do it, baby, I’m ready,” she instructs with a moan. Her pussy throbs greedily when she takes him back all the way down, relaxing her throat and concentrating on breathing through her nose when he bends his knees and starts thrusting gently.

His hand returns to her hair for leverage and holds her head steady as he finds a tempo with his hips that she can handle. MJ fights her gag reflex and does her best to look up so she can watch his beautiful face with teary green eyes for as long as she can. Giving head has always been something she’s relatively enjoyed, but Grayson has taken her appreciation for it to a whole new level. Never before had she craved the feeling of her throat being stretched, the slight ache of her jaw, the way her eyes watered, like she does with him.

Grayson’s sounds are getting more frequent and needy, music to MJ’s ears solely for the fact that they feed her ego and drive her own arousal. She’s always loved that he wasn't afraid to be as loud as he usually is outside of the bedroom, inside it as well; whether he was working out or talking or getting his dick sucked, he had zero regard for his volume in respect of his twin just down the hall.

“Fuuuckk,” he moans, almost painfully so, and tugs roughly on her hair once again to pull her off of him as he sits up. He’s panting, a cute flush tinting his cheeks and neck and chest. She catches the sexy glint of one of his tooth jewels as he grits his teeth with a little snarl in attempts to hold himself together. “C’mere.”

MJ whines and follows his physical order, but not his verbal one. His cock is an absolute mess with her spit, a beautiful sight to see, and she rubs it all into his tight balls and his shaft with two hands. “Put it back in, Grayson, I want it in my throat,” she pleads, opening her mouth wide for him.

A deep, guttural noise passes his lips, his eyes blown out with desperation and desire. His visceral reaction to her defiance sends a gush of moisture to her already dripping pussy as he drags her up to him by her hair.

They’re nose to nose, breathing heavily, and MJ expects him to pull her by the back of the neck to kiss him, but he just reaches a big hand up to wipe the moisture from both her eyes and her mouth off of her flushed face.

“Ride me,” he growls, his fingers moving from the soft skin of her cheeks to the more delicate area of her throat. He squeezes gently, and she’s so turned on, that the simple hitch in her breath that results from it makes her eyes roll back and her clit pulse. “Ride me as good as you suck my dick, MJ.”

MJ whimpers and lunges forward to crash her lips against his, moving from the middle of his legs to straddle him with a knee on either side of his hips. Without breaking the heated seal of their mouths, she lifts up onto her shins and reaches behind her to find his cock and line him up with her center. If he wants a good ride, she’ll sure as hell give him one.

Grayson’s moan is synchronized with her own as she sinks down on him, so wet and ready for him it’s just one easy movement until she’s balls deep on him.

“God, this pussy,” he growls, grabbing a handful of her thick ass and following it with a sharp spank to her skin, causing her to yelp into the minimal space between them. He bites his lip and looks up at her darkly as she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, her nails digging into the sinews of his broad back. “Go, Peach. Fuck me.”

Those were usually her choice words, so something about hearing them in his deep, raspy voice said to her, sends her head reeling and her hips rocking of their own accord. She is fucking him; they both know everything she’s doing right now is for him. If she happens to cum in the meantime, it will simply be an added bonus this afternoon.

If she were taking herself into account, MJ would start by grinding on him, building that pressure in her core by stimulating her clit. But she wants to do everything she knows he likes, all for him. She looks at his face, his body, and sees those insane photos on Instagram. How many girls would do anything to be in her place?

A lot. Too many, really. The renewed thought both drives her crazy and makes her heady with a weird sense of momentary superiority.

MJ moans and starts rising up and down on him, bouncing on his lap so her tits are jiggling right in his face. Grayson grunts and watches intently until he takes them both in his hands, squeezing roughly. He releases one and wraps that arm around her waist, bringing her forward so he can suck her nipple of the breast he’s still holding into his warm mouth.

“Lay down,” she says breathlessly after a couple of minutes of letting him indulge, pushing gently on his chest. Grayson follows suit. He swallows hard when she drags her nails down the hard ridges of his abs before bracing herself there with her palms and making sweeping circles with her hips. As much as he loves a face-full of her tits, nothing beats the full view of her body when he's flat on his back like this. Her dark hair curtains the soft, blissful features of her face; her breasts shake enticingly; the respective dips of her waist and swells of her hips are more pronounced by the way she’s sitting astride him; her own lean muscles work hard as she moves gracefully, sensually, to give him as much pleasure as she can.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs lowly, overwhelmed by the sight of her on top of him, working just for him. Without him even realizing, his thumb instinctively finds her clit, his mind and his body hardwired to make sure she’s satisfied as well no matter what.

A new rush of heat floods her body at his touch, and the tip of his cock is hitting just right on that spot behind her belly. Her head tips back with a high-pitch gasp and she fights for a second between instinct to reach her own peak and the competitive, determined urge to get him to cum first.

It takes all her willpower to take the latter route and gather both of his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers and pinning them above his head. His biceps bulge obscenely, his shoulders and triceps equally pronounced, and MJ moans wantonly at the sight as she changes the motion of her hips. She uses the new leverage and goes back to moving up and down on him, a slight smirk gracing her lips when she watches his attention zero in on her tits swaying over him from the way she’s leaning above him.

Unfortunately (or, who is she kidding, fortunately) for her, Grayson also realizes the advantages of this new position. His knees raise behind her so his feet are flat on the mattress, and he grins when he starts thrusting full-force up into her. He would usually wrap his arms around her waist to hold her steady, but those abs are coming in clutch as he achieves the same effect with his hands captured above him.

He knows this is one of her favorite positions, when he jackhammers her like this, and sure enough her moans and whimpers shift in pitch and frequency as her body goes stiff. She can only take him like this, and any thoughts of other girls and jealousy and pride or any other emotion like them fly out of her mind as her body’s desires take over her brain’s thinking power.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Grayson!” she squeals, her eyes squeezing shut and breaking their mutual gaze as she cums and cums hard.

“Yes, baby, cum for Bear,” he grunts, snatching one of his hands from hers so he can grab her face by the cheeks and pull her down for a sloppy, desperate kiss.

It takes her almost a minute to come down enough for her to be coherent, and Grayson smiles smugly as he sits them up and trails his mouth to the spot behind her ear that never fails to make her shiver. “You love my dick, Peach? Hm? Who’s dick just made you cum that hard?”

MJ groans and grasps a handful of his dark hair when he bites into the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Yours,” she whispers. Her body is exhausted, but she starts moving over him again, tugging on his long, sweaty hair to pull him away from her skin so she can look him in the eye. If there’s anything that gets Grayson Dolan off, it’s eye contact. Eye contact, and dirty praises of his prowess. “Didn’t even need to touch my clit, it’s so good.”  

She clenches purposefully around him as she speeds up, and Grayson’s eyes roll back for a second. It’s MJ’s turn for her pride to swell, as the simple action puts him right at the edge. “Fuck yeah… ungh, MJ — gonna cum…”

She’s off him in an instant, back on her tummy as she strokes him off into her open mouth, her eyes big and green and sparkling as he whines with every spurt of his hot seed that gets released. The first couple of shots are powerful enough to miss her mouth entirely and land half on her face, which catches her by surprise, but she giggles as the rest find their place on her tongue.

“Holy shit,” he groans after a few moments, his chest heaving as he stares down at her with his white cum pooled on the surface of her tongue. It takes him an extra second to process the streaks on her face, and he smiles with a shake of his head. She grins back and swallows, swiping her finger across the bridge of her nose to collect the extra and sucks it into her mouth.

“Best nut I’ve ever tasted,” she says truthfully. Take his douchey captions as you will, but regular exercise and a vegan diet make the best cum. It’s science.

“Unreal,” he murmurs, plucking a Kleenex from the nightstand to clean the rest of her face, then reaches down to hook his hands under her arms and drag her up to lay next to him.

MJ smiles and nuzzles into his neck as she lets him pull her close to his chest. She reaches blindly behind her for the blanket to throw over their sweat-cooled bodies. “That’s my line. That’s what started this whole tryst in the first place. Because of how unreal you look in those photos.”

Grayson hums, and he kisses her temple. “You’re prettier. More beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

MJ scoffs and blushes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to him complimenting her like that, with such conviction. “I don’t think so, but okay.”

He shakes his head, his eyes closing as he starts to drift off. “You have boobs. You win by default. Nothing’s better than your boobs. Except your pretty face.”

She giggles and snuggles closer with a yawn. There’s a minute of comfortable silence, until she breaks it with her sex-rasped voice. “Oh, by the way, I caught your brother going down on Evie in the kitchen the other night. In case we need leverage in the future.”

Grayson grins, his eyes still shut as he nuzzles the top of her head. “Nice work, baby. But can we please take a nap? You wore me out.”

“Yeah, I did,” she says smugly to herself. She should probably get up to pee, but in her mind right now it’s worth the risk if she doesn't have to move. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Peach. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

[stillpartofthisworld]

Juno Steel and the Deal with The Devil-NanoWrimo 11/02

Juno knows this is a bad idea.

He's standing in his kitchen, staring at the countertop. It's a nice countertop-a lovely granite that matches the cupboards. Shame that he got blood all over it.

The blood in question isn't his, for once. It's goat's blood, fresh out of the bag from a butcher across the street. He'd put it in a bowl, and then used one of Benten's old watercolor brushes to draw the appropriate sigils across the surface. The summoning circle he'd drawn looked perfect, mirroring the one he'd seen online.

Now he had to hope that the rest of the plan went as smoothly.

He lights the five candles at the edges and pulls out his phone. He's only a little buzzed tonight, so he can make out the words on his screen easily. They were in Latin, sure, but Sasha had taken Latin in highschool and had forced him and Mick to help her memorize verbs, so it can't be that different.

He sucks in a breath, and begins to chant.

20 minutes and 2 cans of beer later, and Juno feels like an idiot. Of course the stupid, stupid summoning circle didn't work. Why the hell should it? It's not like demons actually exist, and even if they did, why would the come at the beck and call of a Reddit post?

"Fuck," he mutters, and lurches out of the couch. He needs to clean the kitchen before Rita comes to see him tomorrow. Can't have her seeing his slow descent into madness, especially not after-

He hears a knock on the door.

Juno moves towards it. He thinks he might have ordered a pizza when he got home, but the amount of drinks between got home and now are enough to make him uncertain. He fumbles for the lock, and only remembers to check the peephole after the door is swinging open.

The man in front of Juno's door is tall, pale, and most importantly, handsome. He's dressed in a tailored suit, all black save for the blood red cufflinks on both wrists. His silver cross earrings sway in the breeze, glinting as they reflect the streetlights. His face is all angles; sharp cheekbones, slanted eyes and a cocked smile, his lips pulled back far enough to reveal wickedly pointed canines. It's enough to make Juno want to touch him and make sure he's real, that beauty like that could be tangible.

Instead he settles on clearing his throat. "Who are you?" He asks gruffly, and somehow the strangers' smile just gets wider. "I'm not sure what you mean, Juno," he says, and even his voice sounds beautiful, smooth and sauve like liquid mercury. "After all, you're the one who called me."

Juno freezes. Then:

"What."

The man points a long, manicured finger into Juno's apartment, where the kitchen is. Where the summoning circle.

Well, shit.

"What, you mean, you're...the...demon?"

The alleged demon chuckles at his incredulous tone. "What else would I be, dear? It's not everyday random men show up at your doorstep."

"You'd be surprised." the rebuttal comes automatically, and just serves to streach the man's grin even wider. "Aren't demons supposed to show up in the summoning circle? And be all fire and brimstone?"

"Is that what people are saying nowadays?" The stranger sighs, shaking his head. He leans on the door frame, using his height to let his gaze rove lazily across Juno's body. "The summoning circle isn't meant to trap us, dear. It's more of a...calling card. I show up how I like. And as for the 'fire and brimstone', well-" He snaps his fingers, and suddenly there is a small blue flame in between his thumb and index finger. "I could certainly show you," he continues smoothly, "But I assumed that your furniture might be flammable."

What had he gotten himself into?

"Oh, nothing that thousands of other humans haven't gotten themselves into before," the demon replies, and Juno realizes he's been talking out loud. "Might I come in?"

Still reellng, Juno moves out of the way to let the man in. He looks around the space curiously. It's a nice place; Rita was the one who'd shown him the listing, and Benten was the one who'd bought all the furniture. It still felt like it wasn't his apartment at times, like he was the one dirty thing in this clean, crisp home.

The demon, however, fit perfectly into the room. He sits down on the couch, crossing his legs and gingerly placing an empty beer can on the coffee table. "Can I get you something to drink?" Juno asks, and the demon waves him away. "I'm quite alright for now, thank you. Let's get down to business, shall we?" He spreads his hands in front of him dramatically. Sighing, Juno takes a seat opposite of the demon.

"I have to say, I am curious," The demon cups his chin with both his hands. "Why did you summon me, Juno Steel?"

"Well...you know, thinking back on it, it wasn't such good idea." Juno scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I was sad, and drunk, and honestly I didn't even think it was going to work!"

"Most people don't-"

"And it's not like I have to show up with you tomorrow," He says, getting angry at himself. "I can go with Rita and Ben and just stick to the back of the reception. Drink all I want and get driven home. But it was just...the pictures and the updates and the register- God that fucking register-"

"I'm not sure I follow-"

"So I just had to pretend that I got over him! Putting down a plus one and writing "significant other" like a fucking dumbass. Stupid Juno, stupid-"

"Can you please explain-"

"I need a date for my ex's wedding."

The demon looks at him and blinks once, twice, before- "I beg your pardon?"

Juno pauses, unsure. "You...know what a wedding is, right?"

"Of course I know what a wedding is," the demon snaps, and Juno swears that for a second his dark eyes glow blue. "But is that the only reason you called a demon? To spite an old partner?"

"He was my ex-fiance, if that adds anything." His tone is flat and unbothered; he'd been practicing. "Found out he was cheating on me a week before the wedding, too, the bastard."

The demon looks at him in shock, then with something akin to sympathy. "That...makes a lot more sense."

"Yeah, yeah, so now he's marrying the same asshole who he left me for and had the nerve to invite me, so excuse me for not wanting to look like I'm still pining for him." Juno looks away from the demon in front of him. God, he needed a drink. Hell, he needed a liquor store.

"And...might I ask why you simply didn't...look for a human to go with?" The demon inquires softly, still staring at him. "Go on one of those those...blind dates?" Juno's head snaps back to look at him incredulously. "Have you seen this, buddy?" Juno gestures to his face; the scars around his eyepatch, and the very visibly sunken skin under it. "Ain't no one swiping right on this."

"I think you're quite handsome, actually. In a rugged way." The demon says quietly, and Juno has to laugh. "You're a natural at this boyfriend thing, bud. I almost believed you."

Before he can speak again, Juno cuts in. "Anyway, what's the payment for this again? You want my soul or something?"

"Oh, nothing so barbaric," the demon waves a hand. "We haven't asked for souls for a long time; they don't keep as well as they used to."

Juno decides not to ask about that.

"Rather, we trade in favours," his smile is back, his tone all milk and honey. "I do something for you, you do something for me, and everyone's happy."

"Uh-huh.” Like he was about to buy that. "What do you usually ask for?"

"Why ruin the surprise?" His canines peek out again, and Juno briefly wonders how the demon never manages to cut himself on his own smile. "I try not to ask for the same things twice; gets awfully boring when you do. It doesn't have to be right away, either; I could ask you years down the line instead."

Juno scowls at that. "I like my consequences to be punctual, actually."

"Good thing I'm the one planning the consequence then, hmm?" The man laughs lightly. "For now, dear, all I need is to officially seal our deal." He stands from the sofa, towering over Juno. "I am bound to your service for as long as you require me," he says, bowing slightly. "All I ask is that you give me a name."

"What do you need a name for?"

The demon shrugs. "It's a way of sealing the contract. The old way demanded that we spill the blood of a virgin, if you would prefer." He looks up from his bow, one eyebrow raised. "I'm sure you don't meet the criteria for that, but if you want we could-"

"Fine, fine!" Juno nearly shouts, willing his blood to not enter his cheeks. "You want a name that badly? Why don't you pick one?"

The demon straightens. "Well, I suppose I could think of a few names that might fit..." He taps a long finger to his chin thoughtfully. "How about...Rex Glass? That sounds exciting, doesn't it-"

"Nope. Too weird."

The demon looks at him, shocked. "Too weird?" He chokes out. "Well, I never-"

"Picked a good name before? Clearly. Try again."

The demon sighs. "Well, if you insist. How about... Perseus Shah?"

"Nope."

"Duke Rose?"

"Sounds like someone I'd want to shoot, next."

"How about a Monsieur Dauphin? A little mystery-"

"Is going to get both of us killed, try again."

"Christopher Morales?"

"Well now you just went too plain."

"You're impossible to please, did you know that?"

"So I've been told."

The demon huffs. "Well, then, how about..." His face goes thoughtful for a moment, then nostalgic, then something else altogether that Juno can't quite place. He stays like that for a moment, all softness and memory, before suddenly switching back to a rogueish grin. "I've got one. Peter... Nureyev."

He looks so pleased with himself, it takes all of Juno's willpower to not shoot it down. Because it's actually a good name. Peter Nureyev seems to fit this demon well.

"Nureyev it is, then."

And they shake on it.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “The Watering Hole.”

Forgive the grammar mistakes if they are more numerous than usual. I am trying to multitask right now. Hope you all like it, and have a great day :) 

You see that…. Beautiful isn’t it. The watering hole, the place where all the humans go to feed, drink and meet up with other humans. Humans are very social creatures, but all of them still prefer to have their own territory. They work out this problem by having their territory in a different area of the ship, and then return here where the territory is communal. Technically it is owned by the alpha who allows all the others to go about his space.” The camera slowly zooms in on another large, intimidating figure, much larger than its human counterparts, with bright red carapace and a beak-like face. “Humans are notorious for their pack-bonding ability. This creature right here is a Drev, named Cannon, and he is just as much a part of their human pack as any of the humans are. With a lot of species, to become a member of the social structure, there may be some sort of challenge or requirements one might meet, but integration into a human pack requires only time, and the stipulation that the humans actually enjoy your company. As far as science can tell, the Drev and the Humans are the most psychologically similar species in the universe. Not many tests have been done on the subject, but they seem to have a similar cortical and limbic structure, which suggests that humans and Drev feel and think in the same way.”

Dr. Krill moves around the corner and scoots just a little closer the camera jostling in his hands. The humans are the first ones to notice his presence lifting their heads from the odd multicolored mush on their plates. Those strange, unnerving eyes lock onto him, an entire pack of the creatures. A few of them began to chirp at each other and at the camera as Krill moved forward. The Drev raised their heads relying on the human reaction as they turned to look at Krill grunting huffing a hooting at each other with their own strange dialect.

“As a doctor, I often come here to observe the health of my humans. You see when a human isn’t feeling well, they will often avoid socializing or even eating. Now you well know that humans need food to survive, so to see a human not eating is a very alarming sign. Additionally, from here I can observe their social patterns to determine how healthy the social structure is. Today everyone seems happy and calm. Now, because this is such a large place where many humans come to eat, you may also see pack conflicts between subordinate humans.”

Krill moves up the gauntlet of humans even despite multiple pairs of predatory eyes locked onto him as he goes. The camera doesn’t even tremble as the humans lean over him occasional paw swiping at the camera as they hoot back and forth to each other. He turns to the camera towards a row of humans. One of them swipes at the camera showing his teeth as he does his dark eyes and brown skin blending pleasantly with the strange green/grey outfit he wears. “Down Chavez, sit.” The human pulls back head tilting sharply to the left mouth open slightly.

“See, a firm hand works well with the subordinate humans specifically the low level pack members. Chavez is a very young juvenile member of the pack and so does not have a very high ranking, and the more subordinate you are the more dangerous work you do. You see he is what is called a Marine, and the humans use members of his class as protection and to fight. On the other hand, the Alpha could choose to stay aboard the ship and avoid all confrontation but isn’t likely to do so because he must show his competence to the rest of the pack by supporting his subordinate members.” The camera trembles slightly as the Dr.’s voice changes imperceptibly, “Besides, the marines are the dumb ones.”

The pack of humans erupt into a burst of sound. It is a horrifying sight, teeth flash as the humans snarl before exhibiting a strange noise like the revving of an engine. One of the humans rises to his full height and hoots something loudly to the room.  All close-by human groups are making the same revving noise now. It seemed as if the Dr. was about to get jumped and ripped apart for some breach of protocol, but the humans themselves remained seated though their eyes never left the Dr. as he moved around the room with his camera pointed their direction. Slowly the lens zooms in on one of the humans hunched over his plate and using some strange silver tool to shovel the strange much into his mouth. The camera continues in until the human’s face filled the entire picture, “See that, the human jaw muscle is one of the strongest in their body, making the human capable of biting off fingers, and, for certain nonhuman species….. Limbs. I don’t know if you can see, but inside the mouth they have two rows of teeth, now teeth are actually bones that grow from the gums and protrude into the mouth. The front two teeth are generally used for biting and holding, the sharp pointed teeth next to it are for ripping, and the teeth behind those, the ones that are sort of flat and round are using for grinding. Though humans are classified as a predatory species, they are primarily omnivores eating both meat AND pants. Hard and fast rule is that a human can eat almost anything as long as it contains nutritional value. Correction, humans can pretty much eat anything they can digest, it may not provide them with the minerals they need to survive, but they will at least digest it.”

The human in frame looks up cheeks puffed out as it attempts to hold food inside its mouth. Seeing the camera, it freezes in that posture eyes darting around towards the other humans who begin making that revving sound. The human swallows hard and grimaces wincing as it rubs its chest with one hand. The Dr. hurries over and smacks the human on the arm. The human sits back reproachful brown eyes looking at Krill, “Don’t take such big bites.” The human yips in response. The camera shakes slightly, “The younger humans are always a little enthusiastic about their food. Now the issue with this is that the human trachea was moved further down in the throat to give them such a high range of vocalization that you see here. However this ability to vocalize also makes it easier for them to choke on their food. Choking being the obstruction of the windpipe as food becomes stuck in the esophagus. Sometimes, I have to discipline the humans participating in this risky behavior, and I can do that because they see themselves as subordinate to me. The alpha will tolerate it because it keeps the peace, and I am a useful member of the pack.”

At that moment, the entire room raises their head to something behind Krill. A few of the humans stand up making a strange signal with their arms. “That will be the alpha coming into the room. What you see right here is a greeting ritual that the subordinate humans will use to fall in line under the alpha human.” He turns the camera around to find a familiar human. The alpha stands in the doorway single green eye sweeping over the crowd to fall on Krill.

“Let’s see if he will tolerate my behavior today.”

The green eye rolls, but he ignores Krill for the moment and barks something to the room. In response, the other humans go back to their food. A figure steps from the hallway behind the captain. It is another one of the Drev creature, this one is only a little taller than the human with bright blue carapace and glittering golden-yellow eyes. She grumbles something at the alpha, and he clicks back his answer reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder, “Ah, you see that, I have been waiting a while to show you a demonstration of human affection. Now this is only a small one, but humans often use touch to both greet, dominate and show affection to each other. Now the Drev you see here is a young female Drev who falls as the 1 Beta aboard this ship. In any other situation, she would be the Alpha to her clan, but has given up that responsibility to the more dominant human.” The Drev and the human turn to look at each other somehow managing to highlight the same expression across their dissimilar faces.

Suddenly, the female Drev reaches out and shoves the alpha human. Eyes wide he stumbles backwards, trips over a chair and goes crashing to the ground. The entire room makes that revving noise as the alpha scrambles to his feet with a reproachful look on his face. He hisses something at the Drev, and she grumbles something in return. Surely this is a behavior that the alpha would deal with. But he only shows his teeth and bats softly at her with one of his large paws, the two of them return to walk side by side over to where the food is being served, “Now that was an interesting little interaction you got to see there. Seeing that technically the female Drev is also an alpha, she chose that moment to assert her dominance and remind the human alpha of that fact. If it was anyone else, he might have chosen to continue the competition, but instead chose to allow the interaction.”

From the other side of the room, the human lifts his paw and makes a gesture with a set of fingers. The nonverbal is unknown.

The humans don’t stop staring at Krill as he moves around the watering hole. Their eyes follow him with their predatory grace, slowly sweeping back and forth as he moves. Sometimes they call to him in their strange rumbling voices, and sometimes they just watch. Eventually many of them turn back to their food ignoring him for the most part.

He stalks through the tables barely coming up the human mid-back even when they sit. He narrates as he goes and sometimes they turn to look at him before going back to their food. A few of them watch continually from where they sit. The corners of their mouths are turned up eyes wide with amusement heads cocked comfortably to the side.

“Ah, now this is interesting.” Krill moves forward bringing the edge of the camera up beside one of the tables. A male and female human sit across from each other, “This is a good demonstration of human courting rituals. Look at how close the male is sitting to the female, how he leans towards her.” The human glances over at Krill shifting in his seat as he turns back to the female. The little line of fur above her eyes is raised as she looks from Krill to the man. Krill moves closer until he is right up against the table, He zooms in on the humans face.

The human turns his head away from the camera lens doing his best to ignore Krill as he continues mumbling towards the female who sits back showing her teeth, “He will be trying to woo her. Perhaps he will try to look intelligent and sophisticated…. He is not doing a very good job.” The human turns to glower at krill hissing something as his eyes narrow before clearing his throat with a huff and turning his attention back to the original conversation.  The female sits back in her chair she is showing more teeth than before as she looks back and forth between Krill and the other human.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but humans tend to court based on their genetic health. Those with high genetic health tend to mate with those with the same genetic health as them. As you can see this female human is much healthier than the male human. In colloquial terms one might say that he is out of his leave.”

The female human snorts and makes that odd revving noise.

“Ah, look see that is an interesting reaction. That color change in his face is actually do to an influx of blood into the neck and head. I am not really sure what it is for, some say that it is actually evolutionary trait chosen by its use in social situations. It’s a way we can tell he is embarrassed.” The human whirls on Krill and snarls. His lips are pulled back from his teeth and his eyes are narrowed. He stops upon realizing that the other humans are watching intently. They wait in expectant silence as the human male shifts in his seat, eventually the alpha waves a paw at the young human and barks something at him from across the room. The red in his face grows deeper as more blood rushes into his neck and head. He turns back towards the female human who is showing even more teeth than before.

He makes a coughing noise and then continues to mumble quietly.

“Often humans try to use their voices to attract each other, this humans voice is not very impressive. He keeps tripping, and if he keeps speaking so quietly, than she will not be able to hear him.” The human plows onward as quiet revving stars up from the humans around the room. All of them are watching him.

“See how the coloring has changed, I am surprised he has any more blood in the rest of his body as it is all in his face.”

There was some barking from the other humans and the young male stumbled even more forcibly.

Krill turned the camera towards the female human, “Hm…. It is hard to tell what she will think about his advances. The teeth are a good sign, but the human female does not always keep her emotions at the surface. With all of his stuttering and mumbling she may decide to reject him for a better mate.” Still showing her teeth, the human female swipes at the camera and chirps something before turning to look at the male human nodding. The human male is still horribly red, and slumps down in his seat only to show his teeth

“Hm, wow, it worked. I did not expect that.”

Across the room the humans begin hooting and screeching slamming their hands against any close hard surface.

“Apparently all the other humans are impressed as well, bet they didn’t expect this to happen. They are congratulating him with loud noises. Humans love when other humans make loud noises for them.” The alpha barks out another loud string of noises, and Krill turns the camera on him.

“The alpha would do well to remember that despite this human’s incompetence when dealing with female humans, he himself has never managed to court another human.” He stalks a little closer with the camera still on the alpha who has gone rather quiet, “You know I have wondered about that for a while, as a medical doctor it worries me. I would have assumed that he is very genetically healthy for a male human, and if so why is no one interested. I played around with the idea that, perhaps, he has some kind of deformity that only humans are aware of and I am not.”

The alpha shifts on his feet and sits back down. He grumbles something at the camera.

“I have wounded the alpha’s pride. As a human he will likely find a way to retaliate at a later date” 

 Translations.

Hey Krill, What’s up, what’s with the camera.

Are you like, narrating or something?

Is this for some kind of documentary? Or are you just being weird.

Nerd

Hey!

What is that supposed to mean!

What are you talking about, I am the smartest person I know.

You signed up for this job, how smart can you be?

You know what, he’s not wrong. I’ve never met a dumber group of people, and that includes myself.

What are you my mother?

Now what is this all about?

Oh, this is Krill’s new thing. I think he’s making some kind of documentary or something like that. Get ready to be annoyed excessively.

The hell! What was that for?

Because I felt like it, do I need a reason?

So… uh, I was wondering if you….. maybe might be interested…. I mean you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want; I just thought that since…. Since we are friends or….

Are you serious right now Krill?

So anyway….. I was thinking that you and I….

Come on

Get on with it.

At this rate she will be married and dead by the time you finish

Oh Krill, knock it off and give him a break. Of course I will go out with you

Nice!

Sweet!

Nice job man!

It’s about damn time!

Alright, alright Krill….. I get it.

[viktorrotkiv]

A Perfect Disaster of a Day

Written for @justwannabeafangirl​ as part of the @b99fandomevents​ Summer 2020 Fic Exchange.

Prompt: Stuck at work on a beautiful day

Read on AO3 // My Ko-fi

The first day of June was perfect. Amy woke up half an hour before her alarm clock was set to ring to find a bright, crisp morning waiting for her on the balcony, where she liked to start every morning. She pulled herself away from the view and into the kitchen, still drowsy, to make a pot of coffee. Pouring herself a cup, she stepped back outside, relishing the warmth. She wouldn’t need her robe around the house for the next few months - unless, of course, Jake decided to freeze them with the AC. Which, if she was being completely honest, she knew he would do. He would also get her a thousand new sweaters to make up for it. For now, though, she was perfectly content with the temperature. In fact, she took off the robe and folded it over the balcony railing. Leaning forward and sipping her coffee, she admired the view. It was incredible. She still couldn’t believe they had managed to score this amazing balcony in New York. Sun rays illuminated every tree, every street mural, every laughing couple in a window. A few clean-white clouds dotted the light blue sky, casting shadows here and there on the still-quiet street below. It was a beautiful day. It was perfect.

“Hey.” Jake stepped onto the balcony behind her. “Where’d you get that delicious-smelling coffee?”

Amy turned to smile at him. “Good morning.” She stepped forward and pressed a warm kiss to his lips, immediately feigning annoyance as he swiped the coffee cup from her hand. “Hey! Don’t steal mine. There’s a whole pot of fresh coffee inside.”

“No, I think I’ll just drink this instead. It’s right here, after all.”

Amy’s upset facade broke immediately and she laughed. Jake could always make her laugh, no matter what silly thing he had done right before. “We have to get out early today. This is the first day of Mac’s first real summer – last year he was too small to notice anything going on, I think. We have to take him to the park, feed the ducks, do cartwheels in the grass…”

“Neither of us can do a cartwheel, Ames. And I doubt our one-year-old can either.” Jake chuckled and slid his arms around her lower back, staring into her eyes. “But you’re right. You always are. We absolutely have to take advantage of this perfect summer day. We’ll tell the Captain we need to step out early, send the babysitter home early…” Jake rested his cheek on his wife’s head and closed his eyes, swaying them in place. “We’ll get ice cream… Teach Mac how to throw a ball… We’ll...”

After a moment of silence, Amy spoke, her voice muffled slightly by Jake’s chest. “Are you falling back asleep?”

“Absolutely. Wake me up in twenty minutes.”

Amy smiled and pulled back from Jake’s hold, laughing when he muttered something unintelligible and reached his arms out to her, eyes still closed. “We should actually go in early if we’re both awake already. Get a head start on the day.”

Jake opened his eyes and smiled at her sleepily. “You’re so smart. Now, where’s that whole pot of coffee you promised me?”

*

Their day at work also seemed to start off perfectly. The Captain had immediately given them permission to leave early.

“I don’t see why not,” Holt had smiled. “It is a beautiful day, you both have light case loads… Enjoy the afternoon with your son.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Jake whispered in a sing-song voice as they were leaving Holt’s office.

Amy, grinning madly, shoved him playfully. “He’ll hear you! Now, listen. No trouble today, Jake. We have to leave early.”

“Oh, but of course, m’lady.” Jake made an exaggerated bow and kissed her hand. “Now go kick ass.”

Amy looked back at him and smiled as she left for her desk. ‘Love you,’ she mouthed.

*

At eleven a.m. it still didn’t look too bad.

Rosa slammed a cup of coffee on Jake’s desk. “Hey. I need a favor.”

Jake looked up at her, worried. “Amy and I are supposed to leave in two hours.”

“Oh, relax.” But her nudging the coffee even closer to Jake had the exact opposite effect. “It won’t take nearly that long.”

“If it’s so short, why are you bribing me?”

Rosa stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away. “I need you to interview someone who came in for one of my cases. It’s unscheduled, or I wouldn’t need you to do this for me, but I have a dentist appointment.”

“Okay, sure. What case is this for again?”

“Jake.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out here, Ro Ro.”

Rosa didn’t even object to the nickname. “Some guy is here to confess to kidnapping his baby niece.”

“Oof, depressing.”

“Yeah. You gonna be okay?”

“Are you kidding? Sounds juicy.”

“Jake.” Rosa stared squarely into his eyes. “Are you going to be okay… hearing about a kidnapped baby?”

Oh, thought Jake, a kidnapped baby. Out loud, he said, “I’m not fragile, just because of some stupid baby currently living in my house and feeding off of my wife’s boobs. And I’m deeply offended that you would think otherwise.”

“Fine.” A grin was on the verge of breaking through Rosa’s face. “Nobody said you were fragile, I just want to know that you can handle this.”

“Always. As long as he can talk fast.”

*

“Sergeant.”

“Hmm?” Amy didn’t look up. She was almost done looking over some paperwork, and the officers often needed her for something technical that required her rank. She was used to helping them while doing her own work.

“Sergeant. I, uh… I think I need your help.”

This made Amy look up. “What is it?”

The officer standing in front of her was relatively new. He had proven to be very competent on his own, so she pretty much left him to his own devices. He hadn’t attracted much negative or positive attention, and she didn’t know him that well. “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but you, uh, you smoke, right?”

“Occasionally.” Amy put down her paperwork and smiled at him. “Calm down, Miller. You can be open with me. What is it?”

“I think I have a problem. I smoke, like, all the time now. It’s pretty much sure to ruin my lungs if I keep going like this for another few years.” The officer chuckled. “I mean, I guess smoking always is. And, uh, most addiction books and— and help groups don’t work for me. I need someone to hold me accountable, someone who knows me personally. And I can’t really ask my family, they live in Pennsylvania, and my roommate has some addictions that are much worse than cigarettes...” He chuckled again and wrung his hands nervously. “I know I’m rambling on and on, but I’ve heard you mention using nicotine stickers, so I know you’ve stopped smoking, and I’d like your help.”

“You want me to help you quit smoking? As in, be your mentor?”

“I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate. This was a stupid idea, I just thought—”

“No!” Amy jumped up. “It’s not inappropriate at all. I’d be honored.”

“Really?” Tim Miller’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Come talk to me tomorrow. I’ll do some research, and we can test out some methods.”

“Thank you, again, so much.”

Amy smiled. Mmm, research… “Of course.”

*

At twelve p.m. it started getting worse.

“Wait, say that again.” Jake could already see their perfect day slipping away. If this case was that serious... It could take forever.

“I’ve decided to come forward because my brother is not a competent parent. That’s why I took my niece to my house. She wasn’t safe there.” They were sitting in an interrogation room. Mr. Thomas had asked to talk privately.

“Sir, can you please elaborate? Why wasn’t she safe?”

“My, uh, my brother drinks, and he forgets to bathe her, sometimes even to feed her. When she cries he either sits her in front of the TV for hours, or he calls me. Her mom’s not in the picture, so it’s just him and the baby, and I’m scared…” The man sighed, put his head in his hands. “My brother isn’t a bad person. He just isn’t a very good parent, and my niece’s safety is more important than anything else.”

Jake leaned forward across the desk. “It’s okay, I understand. You have to do this. And maybe someday your brother will understand too. Right now, though, we need your full cooperation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have to call social services. Since you came to us and reported this, and because you have experience with the child, I can recommend that you be given custody. Only if you want that, of course.”

“Yes, that— that’d be good, I think.”

Jake reached over and put his hand over Mr. Thomas’s. “Good. But this means that you can’t back out. You need to tell us, and social services, everything you know. You can’t step away because you feel guilty or you start getting worried, because then this won’t work, and your brother could take your niece back and never let you see her again.”

“I know. I know. I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary.”

“Okay then. Let’s take your statement.”

*

“Santiago, could you send me that report?”

“Sir?”

“I know it wasn’t due until tomorrow, but I’m sure you of all people already finished it.” Holt had called her into his office, and Amy was starting to panic.

“Actually, sir, I’ve been dealing with a personal matter of one of my officers, and I haven’t had time to finish the report. I was going to do it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to finish it today. The system’s going to be down for a week starting tomorrow and we won’t be able to log any new reports. They only just told me.”

“Oh.” Amy’s chest constricted uncomfortably. Their perfect day… “Alright, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“Again, I apologize. I hope it won’t keep you too long.”

*

At one p.m. Jake was starting to regain hope.

“Rosa!” Jake almost pushed people aside in his hurry to get to her. Rosa was just back from her appointment, and Jake was rushing across the bullpen. He slid to a stop just outside the elevator and started walking back with her to her desk. “Wow, I’m out of shape… Boy, am I glad you’re here.”

Rosa cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You have to take your case back. It turned a bit complicated, he wanted to report his brother, and I promised Amy we would leave now to take Mac to the park.”

“Oh, sure. Just— what did he want to report?”

“He thinks his brother is an incompetent parent. Social services need to be involved. Oh, and I told him we would recommend him to be the guardian, so you have to say that.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. I took his statement. Someone from social services is on their way here to talk to him now, then to see the baby, and then they’ll go see the brother.”

“Wait, Jake, you already called them?”

“Of course. It was urgent. But this case is all yours now.”

“Actually…” Rose dug her nails into her palm, dreading the news she was about to give. “Actually, if you’re the one who called social services, you have to stay here until they arrive and take over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s protocol. And you know how Holt is about those.”

“But— but, Rosa, they said they’d be here in a couple of hours.”

“I know.”

“I have to leave right now!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

*

Amy tried to concentrate on the work, but she felt too guilty. She had promised Jake that they would leave early, and here she was, stuck writing a report that would take at least a couple more hours. And, oh God, she hadn’t told him yet. She stood up so suddenly that at least three different people turned sharply to look at her. Muttering a general apology to the room, Amy pulled out her phone, sent a quick text, and marched toward Jake’s desk.

“Hey, Ames!” In her state of worry mixed with determination, she had almost walked right past the person she was looking for. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

“Actually, me too—” He was interrupted by both their phones chiming. “Why did I just get a text from our babysitter that says, ‘LOL, don’t mind, you guys are the best parents’?”

“Not sure, but so did I. I actually just texted her to say we won’t be early after all, that’s what I came to talk to you about. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Amy, you’re confused. I texted our babysitter to say we won’t be early after all. I’m not allowed to leave yet.”

“Oh.” Some of the worry left Amy’s face and she actually smiled a little.

“Guess that’s what made her laugh.” At her confused look, he added, “You know, why she texted us LOL.”

“Oh, that’s what LOL stands for? I thought it was ‘lots of love’.”

“Amy Santiago!” Jake threw his arms wide open. “How old are you?”

“I’m joking, Jake, relax. So, why can’t you leave yet?”

“Rosa asked me to take someone’s statement because she had to go to the dentist—”

“—there’s no way that’s actually where she was going—”

“—obviously not, and turns out this guy took his baby niece because he thinks her father isn’t fit to be a parent. So I called social services, but apparently I’m not allowed to leave until they get here.”

“Yeah. Holt would make you adhere to the protocol.”

“Unfortunately. So why do you have to stick around?”

“I promised one of my officers I would help him quit smoking.” Amy sighed. “And then I did research for that instead of writing a report that was due tomorrow, but now it turns out we need to log it in today.”

“Oh, I heard, they’re taking down the system tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Another sigh. “Guess we won’t get our perfect day today, then, huh?”

Jake put his arms around her. “Guess not. But there’ll be plenty more sunny days. It’s only the beginning of summer.”

*

The social services representative arrived at two p.m.

Jake rushed up to the man and threw his arms around the stranger. “Finally! What took you so long?”

The representative nudged him off with a questioning look. “We have other work. You said the child wasn’t in any immediate danger.”

“She isn’t. She’s at home with her aunt. Speaking of which, here’s the aunt’s husband — actually, he’s the one who’s biologically related to the baby — and he can explain everything. I’m going to go now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Actually, if you’re Jake Peralta, there’s a few things to go over first.”

Jake groaned and slumped forward. “That was more a figure of speech. I was hoping I wouldn't really need your permission. What do you need me for?”

“I just need to make sure we have all of the details we need, and then I can officially take over the investigation.”

Jake spotted someone coming out of the kitchen. “Actually, she’s the one who called you! That’s Jake Peralta right there.”

“Yep, that’s me, Jake Peralta.” Rosa’s imitation of Jake’s voice was as terrible as can be expected.

The representative, tired and bored, wasn’t buying any of it. “Detective, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come with me. You too, Mr. Thomas.”

A hopeful Mr. Thomas and a frustrated Detective Peralta followed the social services representative back into the interrogation room.

*

At four p.m. Amy finally finished typing her report. At four-oh-five she knocked on Captain Holt’s door. “Sir, I’m finally finished with that report. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Thank you, Santiago. I’m sorry your day was hijacked, but you can go home now. I heard your husband is done with his work too.”

“Oh, the representative left?”

“On his way to look at the child now.” Holt looked at his watch. “You know, you could still have a little bit of fun. Sunset isn’t until eight twenty-one p.m.”

“I don’t know, sir. I think we’re both exhausted. Maybe we’ll try again next week.”

“I will not have any of that nonsense.”

“Sir?”

Holt slapped both his palms onto his desk and stood up. “Do you know why I was so eager to approve your request to leave early? It was partly because you are both excellent at your jobs and have enough vacation days left. It is also because I recently took a vacation with Kevin and it was the most fun I have had in months. It’s important to spend time with your partner, and certainly with your child. You are both extremely willing to help others—”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I wasn’t done, Santiago. You are both extremely willing to help your co-workers and you might get held up at work every other time you try to leave early. Look at what happened today! You were trying to do your job as a sergeant, and Peralta was trying to help Diaz, and you missed out on some of your plans. But there is still time today. Take advantage of the few hours left, because you don’t know when the next perfect day will appear.”

Amy staggered back a few steps, reeling from the Captain’s surprisingly passionate speech. “Thank you very much, sir. That was just the push I needed. You’re right. I’ll go find Jake right away.”

“Of course I’m right. Get out of here.”

Amy turned and started to leave.

“Oh, and Santiago?” Holt was actually smiling, for the second time that day. “Have a hell of a time, for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

At four-fifteen p.m., Jake was packing his things to leave. As he picked up his jacket and bag and went to find his wife, she rushed up to him. “Come on. Let’s go. Here, give me your jacket.”

“Um, sure. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to have our fun day. If only I hadn’t called social services on my own…”

“This wasn’t your fault. I wasn’t ready to leave at one, either. And your thing was even more important than mine.” Amy pressed the elevator button. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go home, pick Mac up, and ride the subway to Central Park. You know how he loves the subway.”

Jake smiled faintly. “I do. But, Ames, I thought we gave up on our day. It’s too late now, we won’t get anything done. We’ll just have to find another day.” The elevator dinged open and Jake held his arm out in front of the door. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Amy stepped inside and pressed the ground floor button, turning toward Jake. “There are four hours and…” She checked her watch. “Four more minutes until the sun sets. And there’s light even after that. We’re going to eat ice cream, and buy a cheap inflatable ball that’ll lose all of its air tomorrow, and play catch with our son. It may not be half a day, but come on, we only lost a few hours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ames, really, but I had kind of a depressing case today, especially since the stupid social services man made me listen to all of the details twice, and I think I just need to go home. We’ll have our fun day soon, I promise.” Jake stepped out of the elevator, but Amy stayed inside.

“Captain’s orders.”

“What?” Jake stepped toward her and held the elevator doors open again.

“Captain’s orders. And I quote, ‘Have a hell of a time for me, Santiago.’”

“He did not say that!”

“He did. And I’m not leaving this elevator until you agree to use whatever time we have left to bond with our son.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean. You know father-son bonding is one of my triggers!” Jake’s mood was starting to lift, though. Amy could see it.

“I do know that, because I know everything about you. Which is why…” Amy walked to Jake, cupping his face gently. “I also know that this will be good for you.”

“I thought you weren’t getting out of the elevator until I agreed to go.” Jake pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“You never really had a choice. Also, I’ve made my point and now I’m stepping out of the elevator.”

“You feel guilty about holding it up, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Amy pulled Jake’s arm around her shoulder.”Let’s go.”

*

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys are still going to have a bit of fun today!” Their babysitter gushed when they finally arrived home. “Mac has been missing you guys ever since you went back to work.”

“Aww, come here, buddy!” Jake picked his son up. “You know, you’re going to feed ducks today, and watch your mom fail miserably at doing a cartwheel.”

“Actually, you’re going to watch your dad fail miserably at doing a cartwheel. Thanks, Becca, here’s your money.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s so beautiful out there. It really is the perfect day to go outside.” The babysitter waved at Mac and started to leave.

“Well, it may not have been a perfect day the whole way through, but we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we, Ames?”

“Absolutely.”

The door shut behind Becca, who couldn’t help but smile at how adorable her employers were, and inside, a small family was about to start a perfect day, outside of work.

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 35

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty // Thirty-One // Thirty-Two // Thirty-Three // Thirty-Four // Thirty-Five (here) 

Chapter Thirty-Five Happiness is a bullet in the back

A cigarette hung between Kisame’s lips. It burned his lungs on every inhale, the acidic taste tainting his tongue and filling his nose. He pinched the end between his teeth as he meandered down the street, his hands in his pockets. On the corner, he paused at the red crosswalk sign and glanced both ways before hurrying through the intersection.

This time of morning, there were few cars out and even fewer people. Those that had stayed out partying all night had already slipped off to bed and rush hour was still an hour off, leaving the streets bare. A hush had fallen over the normally busy city. A ghost town. At least before the walking dead of the working class crawled out from their holes.

Slipping his cigarette from his mouth, Kisame exhaled just as his phone pinged in his pocket. With his other hand, he retrieved the device. The message that waited for him made him hiss out a curse.

The shipment was early. And Pein was calling for all members within the States to be dockside to help with distribution. This wasn’t how Kisame was hoping things would go.

Shoving his cell back into his pocket, Kisame continued towards his townhouse at a hurried pace. He paused on his bottom step and rapidly took a few more drags off his smoke before he stomped it out.

Inside his living space, Kisame flipped on his lights as he made his way down the hall and towards the combined kitchen and living room. On the far side was his den, and he made a beeline towards it when a voice suddenly spoke.

“You know, smoking is bad for you. Might kill you some day.”

Kisame nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to find none other than Sakura lounging in the loveseat near the front window. From the height off the city street he wouldn’t have seen her, but she certainly would have seen him come home.

He looked her up once, half-annoyed that she looked so comfortable there like she owned the place. In her dark jeans and leather jacket she looked more like an assassin than an international arms dealer.

He resisted his glare. “Why do I get the feeling it won’t be the cigarettes that do me in, little viper.”

Sakura’s didn’t reply, but he thought he saw her smirk briefly. His eyes briefly flickered over the room.

“Where’s Itachi?” he asked.

“Not here.”

It seemed his assumption wasn’t off the mark. “I see. You come to kill me then?”

Sakura ran her hand through her ponytail before she settled her arm against the armrest. “I’m undecided, but I’m pleased you’re not against the option should it come to that.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed at the small, fleeting smirk upon Sakura’s face. Perhaps she was being sarcastic, but he wouldn’t put it past her to shoot him anyway.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

He could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Why do you think? The shipment is here earlier than you said, Kisame. I wonder why that is.”

His brow arched in surprise. “How do you know about it?”

“I have eyes on every single port in this state and the next. I know about it,” she said, her tone cool.

Kisame’s mouth pressed into a thin line. It suddenly made sense why she was so threatening tonight. “I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t betray you,” he told her, slipping his hands out of his pockets in a show of good faith. His hands were empty. He wasn’t looking for a fight.

Sakura returned the gesture with a flat look.

“The information I provided you was the same info given to me,” Kisame continued. “I had no intention of giving you false information. I wasn’t trying to screw you over. The shipment arrived early. I only found out a few minutes ago myself.”

“Convenient,” Sakura said patronizingly. Then her voice hardened. “But I don’t believe you. You Mossad Operatives are all the same.”

“That’s a pretty close-minded opinion,” Kisame said, a hint of disdain in his tone. He crossed his arms then, making him appear twice as broad and certainly more threatening, but Sakura merely sat and watched him like she was watching a particularly uninteresting movie.

“Is it?” she replied. “I don’t know your full history with Itachi, but there is very little you or he can say to make me believe you weren’t using your working relationship with him to take me down.”

From across the room, Sakura saw the muscles in Kisame’s jaw tighten. Without a doubt, she knew she had him cornered, but it gave her no satisfaction.

“I know Mossad. And I know you want me,” she continued darkly.

A brief but strained silence passed before the muscles in Kisame’s arms released their tension. “Be that as it may, I told you before that Akatsuki is our primary target.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s your only one.”

Her expression was like moonlight reflecting off ice. Beautiful. But deadly. As if she could watch on without feeling if he were to shiver and slowly freeze to death on a cold tundra before she slipped away over the horizon.

Then her expression cleared and she shrugged faintly. “But I’m not here to discuss your grievances against me.”

Confusion flickered across Kisame’s expression, only to deepen as he understood her meaning. “You think I betrayed Itachi? Why would I do that?”

“That’s the very question I want answered.”

“I’ve been working with Itachi for over five years,” he said, his voice hard with offense.

“And I’ve seen assassins stalk their prey for decades before making a move,” Sakura countered. Then she reached into her jacket and withdrew her weapon before she aimed the barrel directly at him. “So, convince me.”

Kisame’s eyes lingered on her weapon as the weight of the situation settled around them. The air grew thick, making it hard to breathe as if each breath might be his last. Then, in a flash of movement, he made to withdraw his own gun, but Kakashi was faster. He slipped out of the dark den behind Kisame like Death himself, the blunt end of his weapon pressing into the back of Kisame’s skull, stilling his movements.

Kisame’s gaze flickered to Kakashi before finding Sakura again. An odd mix of anger and frustration crossed his face.

“You really are a heartless bitch,” he spat.

She was unfazed by his harsh words. “I just want the truth, Kisame.”

“I’ve told you the truth,” he retorted, his tone giving away his exasperation. “I have told you everything Pein has told me. I didn’t know Madara was involved and I certainly didn’t know Akatsuki was regrouping at the old port in Newark. Pein has always been like this. He gives us basic information and when he’s ready to move, he summons us. I know you’ve done enough transports by now to know that ships don’t always arrive the day they’re scheduled due to weather. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it long before now.”

His last statement sounded more malicious than defensive, but Sakura supposed she couldn’t really blame him. If he truly hadn’t wanted to kill her before now, he very likely wanted to now. She was balancing his life in her hands now. Just one trigger-pull from ending him. Permanently.

He was a Mossad Operative. And a close, personal informant of Itachi’s. If she was wrong and he was telling the truth, his murder could have dangerous consequences for her. She needed to consider this carefully.

That’s when Sakura’s phone rang.

It interrupted the tense silence sharply, the standard ringtone echoing throughout the room. She didn’t reach for it, instead letting it go to voicemail in her jacket pocket before she began to ponder where this situation would go next.

Then her phone immediately rang again.

A muscle in Kisame’s jaw twitched. “You going to answer that?” he asked dryly, only well aware of the gun still pressed to the back of his head.

Over his shoulder, Kakashi shot her a look of confusion that bordered on concern. Sakura kept her face a complete mask as she withdrew her phone, her weapon never wavering from Kisame. Shikamaru’s name was on the caller ID. He hardly ever called her. And never back-to-back unless it was an emergency, but she didn’t let her curiosity show.

Sakura swiped her finger across the screen. “Go,” she answered.

“Izuna is heading towards Newark. He didn’t take the bait,” Shikamaru told her in one breath.

She made sure to keep her expression neutral as she replied, “You’re sure?”

“I just pinged his phone location. He’s just left his penthouse. He’s headed south.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed minutely. Why would he do that? He knew she would be in Brooklyn, so why would he go to Newark?

A memory of the night Madara cornered her popped into her head then. The night he had approached her in that Five-Star restaurant with pictures of her with Itachi in Egypt.

“You appear rather close, do you not?” Madara had murmured. His voice so factual, so darkly promising.

It was all suddenly so clear. Sakura had consistently antagonized Izuna, pushed his anger and threatened everything he had worked for. And now Izuna wanted revenge. For what she had done to Madara. What she had done to him.

Izuna wanted Itachi. Dead.

“Intercept him,” Sakura suddenly demanded.

“I can’t. Both Tenten and Tobirama are tied up with the other Akatsuki members, and Izuna’s already ahead of me,” Shikamaru said.  

But Izuna wasn’t ahead of her. Kisame’s apartment was only a few miles from Newark. If Izuna was coming from his apartment in Midtown, she might have just enough time to get to Itachi first. But she would have to leave now.

Her gun was still drawn but her gaze was distant as Sakura hung up her phone and slipped it back into her jacket. Her mind was racing but she was forced out of her thoughts when Kisame suddenly spoke.

“So, are you going to kill me, or are you going to save him?”

She didn’t know how he had read her thoughts so easily, but she said nothing. Merely sent Kakashi a single look as she stood and re-holstered her weapon in one fluid movement. She didn’t see Kakashi’s strike, but she heard the heavy thump as Kisame’s body crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Only once they were in the car and on the highway did Sakura explain what was going on. Kakashi listened silently, only letting out a single, long exhale once she had finished.

“This isn’t what we had planned,” he told her.

With her gaze still forward, she nodded. “I know.”

“The CIA is already in position to raid the shipping yard. You’ll have to sneak past not only Akatsuki and Izuna, but the CIA as well. It’s going to be difficult.”

“I know,” she repeated. After a moment, she added more quietly. “But I have to. I made Itachi go.”

Kakashi glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him. There was an odd expression on her face, one he had never seen before. One of worry and regret.

He said nothing else, casting them into silence as he took the exit. Only once they were a block away did Kakashi pull into a dark alley beside an abandoned house. He killed the engine and stepped out before making his way to the trunk.

“I thought something like this might happen,” Kakashi told her. “Which is why I got these.”

Confused, Sakura stepped forward as Kakashi popped the back open. Inside were Kevlar vests like the ones police and federal agents used. They were already packed with guns and extra rounds, and on the back in big capital letters was the abbreviation: C.I.A. It was a perfect disguise. They would blend right in.

“Where did you get these?” Sakura asked. She grabbed the smaller one and held it against herself, finding it was her size.

The other fit Kakashi. He stripped his jacket and guns off until he was down to his undershirt before he pulled the vest on and adjusted the straps until it was snug around his form.

“Don’t ask,” he told her.

Then he took her vest and helped her slip into it, adjusting it until it protected her center. He grabbed a hat out of the trunk and passed it to her to conceal her hair before he gave her a onceover to ensure she looked like every other agent that would be out there.

Satisfied, Kakashi nodded. “Now let’s go find your boy toy.”

Sakura glared in response. “He’s not my boy toy-.”

“Whatever.”

xx

Three streets down, the Akatsuki warehouse was full of activity. At the port, a large cargo ship was being offloaded by a towering crane. There was no sign of any special agents yet, but men with guns were running around, barking orders at one another as they unloaded wooden crates from the metal carriers. Definitely illegal arms and drugs.

From a dark corner on the other side of a chain link fence, Sakura and Kakashi watched in silence. They crouched there for a few minutes, taking everything in. Trying to identify where the CIA would infiltrate from.

“Do you see Itachi or anyone?” Sakura murmured.

Without removing his binoculars, Kakashi hummed a negative. “No, and I don’t see Izuna either.”

She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but she remained silent as she continued to watch the activity in front of them. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long before Kakashi spoke again.

“Over there,” he said. “The CIA is getting ready to move in. We can slip in now while they’re distracted with getting into position.”

After securing his binoculars in his vest, Kakashi pulled up the bottom of the fence where age and corrosion had weakened it at the base, leaving enough room for Sakura to crawl under. She held it up to let Kakashi through behind her before they raced across the dark corners of the shipping yard to slip into rank with the quietly moving CIA agents.

The group they joined paused behind a large shipping container on the outskirts before they broke up into teams and continued to surround the working Akatsuki criminals. Sakura followed behind Kakashi, her eyes searching for Itachi and Izuna. The very moment she spotted Izuna she was going to kill him, consequences be damned.

However, that thought went out her head when Kakashi nudged her. “There,” he nodded.

Across the shipping yard, near the warehouse was Itachi. He was decked out in black tactical gear same as everyone else, but Kakashi was right. She would recognize the shape of his shoulders and curve of his jawline anywhere.  

“We need to get to him,” Sakura murmured back.

Kakashi gave a single nod. “Stay close and stay low,” he told her.

Like a single shadow, she and Kakashi separated from the other CIA agents. They slipped behind the teams moving into position, not drawing their attention or the criminals working only a few meters beyond.

Sakura did her best to keep track of Itachi. He was with a group of agents, but as she closed the distance, he got the rest of his team in position until he was the closest one taking cover behind the edge of the shipping container near the warehouse.

Kakashi and Sakura took cover behind the next container over and with Kakashi at her back, Sakura slipped as close as she could to the edge before she whispered sharply to get his attention. “Psst, Itachi.”

With his gaze trained down the sights of his rifle, it took another attempt or two before he finally lifted his attention in her direction. His response was immediate. His eyes widened and his mouth went slack before his expression sharpened.

‘What are you doing here?�� he mouthed, his anger visible.

Sakura shot him a silent look that said they needed to talk. Now.

His expression could only be described as annoyed incredulity.

When Sakura remained firm, Itachi let out an aggravated sigh before he turned to the agent beside him and murmured orders she couldn’t hear. Then he checked the coast was clear before he crossed the short aisle separating their containers to join her.

Shouldering his weapon, Itachi grasped her upper arm tightly. Almost to the point of pain. He searched her face briefly before he glanced over at Kakashi. When he turned back to her, she opened her mouth but he quickly silenced her.

“Not here,” he murmured.

Itachi seemed to search their surroundings a moment before his gaze landed on the warehouse behind them. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her the few yards into the open loading dock.

As soon as they were around the corner, he knelt down, pulling her into a darkened corner with him.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, his hands tightening around her upper arms. "If the CIA-"

"Izuna is looking for you," she interrupted.

Itachi's irritation gave way to confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because Madara isn't here,” she said quickly. “Izuna knows I chased him from the country. He's coming after you to get back at me. We have to leave before he finds you. He wants you dead.”

"Get back at you?" he repeated. "How does he know...wait, what do you mean you chased Madara out of the country?"

Sakura's lips parted but no words came out. Because how did she tell Itachi she had knowingly deceived him? Ever since their first official introduction, he had only ever been straight with her, and now she had just told him she had betrayed his trust. The thing she held most dear.

Sakura saw the moment realization dawned on his face, like she had just slapped him. Her chest tightened uncomfortably as his expression gave way to a mix of anger and dejection, but she never found the words to explain. For their strained silence was interrupted by footsteps up on the upper rafters above where they were crouched.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sakura's head snapped up just as one of Akatsuki’s men drew a weapon from inside his jacket. In the same second, she shoved Itachi behind a wooden crate, taking cover after him as bullets peppered the concrete floor where they had been crouched only a moment earlier.

Sakura didn't know if the noise had caused a stir or if the CIA had finally given the order to move, but shouts erupted outside at the same moment before gunfire filled the air both in the shipping yard and the warehouse.

Together, she and Itachi returned fire. She wasn’t sure who delivered the killing blow, but it didn’t matter for three more men took his place. In the metal warehouse, the rain of gunshots was deafening. Adrenaline rushed through Sakura’s veins, but it was her training that kept her sharp. She fired round after round, fully aware how thin the wooden box they were taking cover behind was against a rifle. For the most part, it protected them against the handguns these attackers were using, but anything bigger, she and Itachi would be in serious trouble.

Forcing herself to inhale, Sakura tightened the grouping of her bullets, striking and killing one man before hitting another. Itachi took out the third, causing the barrage of noise to cut off abruptly inside the warehouse.

Still, Sakura didn’t relax her stance as her eyes quickly scanned the rest of the floor for more men. Only once she was sure they weren’t any more incoming for the time being did she minutely relax her grip and glance at Itachi.

“We need to leave,” she told him.

“And go where?” he countered. Even in the wake of their brief firefight, she could hear the anger in his voice. The bitterness. The heartbreak. “Even if Madara is not here, the CIA is already in the middle of a raid. I cannot just leave my team.”

“But Izuna-.”

“No, Sakura,” Itachi snapped.

The harshness of that single retort made her still. In that moment, she would have given anything to make him look at her like he had only a few hours ago back when they had been in his apartment. Back when his fingers had traced over the keys of the piano, his hands attempting to play her song. Anything was better than the grief and hurt and betrayal that filled his gaze now. She swallowed thickly, trying to push down the emotion that swelled painfully in her chest.

“Itachi…” she tried. But he merely turned away from her as he stood, ready to rejoin the agents outside. “Itachi, please-”

She never finished the rest of her sentence as gunfire filled the warehouse once more. She didn’t know which direction the bullet had come from. All she knew was in one instant, Itachi was standing before her and the next, he was on the ground, unmoving.

Fear like nothing Sakura had ever felt before flooded her. It seized her, stopping her heart in her chest and making the rest of the world fall far, far away until all that existed was Itachi in what appeared to be a slowly gathering pool of blood.

“No,” she murmured. Then louder, “No! Itachi.”

Sakura made to reach for him where he lay only a few feet away, but stopped abruptly when bullets struck the concrete inches in front of her. She dove back behind her cover, glancing across the room towards a second entrance where the shots had come from.

“I warned you the last time we spoke that it would not be our last meeting,” a voice said after the echoing gunfire had faded.

Immediately Sakura stilled, recognizing none other than Izuna. She sat frozen, not daring to move a muscle, with her back pressed against the wooden crate, her rifle held to her chest and her breath bated as she listened to his footsteps echo across the room.

“What, nothing to say? Where’s all that talk you used to have? Or was it just that? Just talk.” Then his footsteps stopped. “I told you you had a pretty mouth, but I guess that’s all you are. Maybe if your little play thing had known that, he wouldn’t be here now.”

Automatically, Sakura’s gaze returned to Itachi. He remained motionless, his blood creeping into the cracks of the concrete around his middle. The bullet must have struck just under his vest. Which meant he likely wasn’t dead. But he would be soon if he didn’t get immediate medical attention.

Anger like no other replaced the fear gripping her heart. “You fucker, I’m going to kill you!”

Izuna’s quiet chuckle reached her ears. “Only one of us will die tonight-”

Pinpointing his voice, Sakura peeked out from around her cover and unloaded her entire magazine in Izuna’s direction. She fired until her weapon was empty before she discarded it and dove for Itachi. She grabbed his vest by the shoulders and tried to drag him to another crate nearby.

She made it two feet before more shots filled the air. Something hard struck her in the shoulder, like a hard punch, knocking her off her feet and onto her back. It kicked the breath from her lungs, leaving her staring dazed at the ceiling and gasping for air like a fish out of water.

It took a moment for the pain to catch up. Then it was everywhere. Icy hot fire erupted in her shoulder and she pressed a hand to it only for her fingers to come away red. She had been shot. Her vision doubled but she forced herself to blink into focus as a shadow appeared above her.

Izuna looked down at her. Even against her darkening sight, she saw the sinister smirk curling in the corners of his mouth. “I am going to enjoy this.”

Then he raised his gun and pointed the barrel directly at her head before a single gunshot filled the air.

Sakura snapped her eyes closed.

A second passed. Then another and another before she realized she was still alive.

Confused, Sakura picked her head up only to find Izuna laying a few feet away, blood bubbling out of his throat. She didn’t understand what had happened until a new set of footsteps reached her ears. Clearing her swimming vision again, she turned her head just as Kakashi lowered his rifle and hurried into the warehouse. He marched straight up to Izuna and pulled his Glock from his hip before he unloaded two rounds directly into Izuna’s head.

Relieved, Sakura let her head fall back to the dusty floor. Then Kakashi was by her side. He pressed his hand into the wound in her shoulder, causing her to hiss out a pained noise between clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You’re losing too much blood. You need a hospital.”

Without waiting for a response, Kakashi hoisted her to her feet. The movement gave her another glimpse of Itachi and automatically she reached for him.

“Itachi,” she gasped between pained breaths.

To her incredible dismay, Kakashi dragged her away. “We have to go,” he told her. “There’s nothing you can do for him now.”

Sakura fought against him. “No! Itachi! We can’t just leave him.”

Kakashi didn’t reply. Instead, he stopped just long enough to hoist her weakening body into his arms before he exited the warehouse the direction they had come, shouting to someone outside about an injured agent.

Her last sight was of Itachi’s bleeding body before her world faded and went black.

tbc…

[blu-joons]

Visiting A Christmas Market Together ~ Jeon Jungkook

As soon as you stepped into the market, you felt full of Christmas cheer, slipping your gloved hand into Jungkook’s looking around the place. He was just as excited as you were to head to the local Christmas market and spend some time with each other.

“Where do we even begin?” You chuckled, looking around at all the stalls and decorations around the place.

Jungkook shrugged, allowing you to make the decision for yourself, spotting a mulled wine stall at the entrance. You pulled him over, desperate to get a warm drink inside of you.

With the winter drawing in, every time you stepped out of the house you were freezing cold, wrapping yourself in plenty of layers. Meanwhile, the cold left Jungkook unfazed, dressed only in a shirt and jacket to keep himself warm.

The market was incredibly busy as Christmas neared, but it looked beautiful. Strings of lights lit the way, with characters walking around entertaining the many children around. As you got to the front of the queue for wine, you pulled out your purse.

“No way, I’ve got these,” Jungkook spoke, pushing your purse back into your pocket, pulling his wallet out from his jacket pocket. “These can be my Christmas treat.”

“Alright, just this once.”

He ordered two mulled wines, handing you one whilst he drunk the other. His face scrunched as he took a sip, slapping his lips together trying to figure out whether he liked it or not. Another sip was taken, which he quickly drunk, shaking his head. “How can you drink that?”

“What do you mean? It’s lovely,” you giggled, drinking yours and then taking his, beginning to walk around the market.

The first stall you came to was covered with different patterned baubles, with the two of you buying a few for your tree at home, followed by a stall filled with stockings, each handmade with different features on.

You loved the look of it, but beside you Jungkook wasn’t so sure. They looked adorable, you could picture two stockings hung up on the end of your bed on Christmas morning.

“Do you really want one?” Jungkook sighed, running his hands through his hair.

You nodded, glancing up at him. “They’ll be cute, and we can keep hold of them for years, make them a bit of a tradition. I think it’ll a nice little something extra to wake up to.”

It took a little while to talk him around to it, but eventually he conceded, picking out a red stocking, choosing to put a giant letter J on it, decorated with candy canes and elves. Whilst you picked a green stocking, placing your initial onto it, adding snowmen and reindeer.

When they were done, you couldn’t help but smile, even noticing the corners of Jungkook’s mouth turn up slightly.

“Try telling me these aren’t the cutest things you’ve ever seen,” you commented, holding them both up.

“Alright, I admit, they are pretty cute.”

With two stalls and two bags in his hands, Jungkook knew that the day was probably going to be a long one. The next few stalls left you disinterested, a few bits of food and random crafts, but nothing the two of you were interested in.

And then you came to a small stage, where a group of carol singers stood, a few other members of their group sat around them with instruments. As with any piece of music, Jungkook’s ears finely tuned in, stopping you so he could listen to the sounds.

He hummed along to the melody, wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying you from side to side. His chin rested on your shoulder, peppering several kisses to your cold face.

“I must admit, I was skeptical about coming here today, but I’m having the best time with you jagi,” he whispered into your ear.

You glanced up, but his eyes stayed fixated on the singers. “Dare you say you’re finally feeling festive?”

“Do you know what? I think I might be.”

After a couple more songs the two of you found a free bench, sitting down either side of it, lacing your hands across the table. A young waiter came over, asking if the two of you wanted a drink, to which you ordered two hot chocolates.

���Is there anywhere else you want to go today? Or shall we just stay here for a while?” Jungkook asked. Looking at the big grin on his face, you knew all he wanted was to stay here and listen to the music, which you happily obliged to.

Your hot chocolates were brought over, hastily sipping from them to try and warm up when an old couple appeared at the other end of the bench.

Their hands were laced, just like yours, they had several bags in their hands, dressed in knitwear that was clearly homemade. “Do you mind if we sit? Our weary legs are beginning to ache.” The man asked.

Without thought the two of you shuffled across, making room for the two of them. The gentleman sat beside you, whilst Jungkook helped the woman sit beside him, placing her bags on the floor carefully.

“Have she been spending all your money like my girlfriend?” Jungkook asked the elderly man.

He nodded, earning himself a swift swipe around the wrist from his wife, who was clearly as unimpressed as you were.

“We come here every year as part of our Christmas, have you guys ever been before?” She asked.

“It’s our first trip, in fact, it’s our first Christmas at home together, so we thought we’d make the most of it. My boyfriend is normally away from home, but this year he’ll wake up Christmas morning by my side.”

They both chuckled, exchanging a loving glance between the two of them. “I still remember our first Christmas, forty years ago this year, it’s still just as special as the first one, even after all these years.”

Jungkook smiled, leaning into the woman, “what’s the secret to buying the best gift?” He tried to be quiet, but you heard every word, nudging his leg underneath the table.

“Anything bought with love is perfect, as long as she knows you thought of her when you bought it, I promise she’ll love it.”

The four of you sat around, the carol singers playing as background music whilst you exchanged different stories and memories. Eventually, the night drew in, many of the lights came on, and the air became chillier, leaving you shivering at the bench.

After a few hours, you and Jungkook decided to make a move, the older couple deciding to head out with you. Being the gentleman he was, Jungkook helped them both whilst you held the bags, smiling softly.

“Well, I wish you both a happy and healthy Christmas,” the man spoke, hugging you both, “make sure you enjoy your first Christmas together, it’s truly magical.”

“We will.”

You stepped across to hug the old lady, before going your separate ways, slipping your hand in with Jungkook’s as you walked back towards the exit.

“They were so cute,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the beanie that sat on top of your head. “I hope we can be like them one day.”

“You heard them boh, we’ve just got to enjoy every Christmas, and I’m sure we will be just fine.”

“Of course we will.”

---

Masterlist

[nunukibebe]

Forget-Me-Not

Hongjoong fluff!! Slightly suggestive ending, cuz this is me hello.

For my lovely @shyeosang, ily sweetpea.

-_-_-_-

Glancing up at the clock above the door, there was no hiding the small sigh that escaped you, your lips still turning up at the corners as you turned your head. Chin going back to its place in your palm, you knew that you could never truly be angry at the man you'd been staring at for the past half hour. 

Hair hidden under a red beanie, tongue poking out every so often as he poured all his concentration into the new piece of music he'd started, Hongjoong hummed under his breath, his brows furrowing as he stopped mid-tune and you stifled a giggle, not wanting to interrupt his muscial genius process.

As he stared at the computer screen, you stared at him, fingers itching to trace his features once more. The thousands of times you'd done it before were forgotten as he turned just enough to present you with his profile, and you felt his beauty like a punch to the heart. A year together and he still took your breath away, the moments creeping up without warning.

Another glance at the clock had you shrugging out of your jacket and pulling your phone out. Knowing that you would never make it to the restaurant in time to keep the reservation you'd made, you slid your feet out of the heels you'd chosen an hour earlier, padding silently out of the studio and into the hallway, closing the door with a quiet click. Dialing the restaurant's number, you quickly gave your apologies to the man on the other line. After listening to the man talk himself through the process of cancelling the dinner you'd spent hours planning, you finally hung up with a groan.

"Did 'Joong-hyung loose track of time again?"

The familiar gentle voice had you smiling as you looked up, San's brown eyes twinkling with mirth as he took in the picture of you, dressed to impress in a little black dress and leaning against the door that lead to his elders studio.

"He did, but I won't hold it against him." You admitted with a chuckle. "I knew that music would always be his first love even before we started dating."

"He loves you too, you know that, right?"

Smiling at the younger boy who had made you cry with his singing, you patted his shoulder, assuring the man that you knew Hongjoong loved you. He only told you everytime he saw you, and you would never complain about it.

Waggling your fingers in a casual wave, you slipped back into the studio, door closing softly behind you, toes sinking into the rug at the entryway. Your presence hadn't been missed, your boyfriend still focused on the music he was editing. This not being the first time you'd spent time waiting for Hongjoong to come back to reality, you crouched by the small loveseat that had been shoved into a corner, fingers searching for the soft blanket you'd stashed the moment you realized how immersed Joonie got. Wrapping the blanket around you like a shawl, you drew your legs up and tucked the corners of the blanket so you were completely wrapped in the blanket.

Then your phone was out and you let your mind wander as you scrolled through your neglected social media, Hongjoon's humming and occasional mutterings your soundtrack for the next hour. Contrary to other people's opinions, this was your happy place, curled up on an old loveseat and watching your boyfriend compose musical masterpieces. Yeah, you'd been looking forward to trying the food at the restaurant, but nothing would ever change the fact that you were happiest just being in the same room as Hongjoong. Looking up to catch the comical glare he was leveling at the editing software, you swallowed back the laughter that threatened to bubble up. Then, he looked up and there was no stopping the laughter at the pure shock on his face.

"Babe?"

Unable to help the laughter that escaped before you clapped a hand over it, you watched as your boyfriend bolted up from his chair to launch himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he practically tackled you in a hug as apologies fell from his kissable lips.

Knowing of only one way to stop the man from talking, you freed your hands from where they were trapped under his arms and planting your palms on each side of his face, you lifted his head up to yours, forcing a gentle kiss onto him.

"Stop apologizing." You muttered into his mouth, lips curling into a smile as he stared at you in surprise.

"But I forgot about the dinner reservations." He got out between kisses, and you pulled away to level an eyebrow at him.

"This isn't a new thing, bubba." You snorted, and seeing the hurt look that passed across your boyfriend's sweet face, you held up a finger, continuing on. "But thankfully, you got super duper lucky, and your girlfriend actually prefers quiet togetherness like this instead of noisy restaurants where someone always smells like they dumped a whole bottle of cologne on themselves." 

Grinning as Hongjoong rolled his eyes in amusement at both your anecdote and the way your nose crinkled in remembrance of the horrible dinner that had been your second date with him, you winked and tossed him some finger hearts that had Hongjoong outright laughing and squishing your cheeks before he drew you into a quick but heated kiss that left you breathless.

"Super duper lucky, huh?" He asked, voice husky and coming from low in his throat, and your mouth dried up quicker than you could say 'paperplane'.

"Oh yeah." You managed to get out between dry lips before sneaking a kiss, leaping up to your feet as an idea occured, fighting down a laugh as you looked down at your slightly beweildered lover. Putting a hand on a hip, you grinned. "So you should totally buy me ice cream to make up for the fact that you totally forgot about your hungry girlfriend."

"Ice cream? Now?" Hongjoong asked, and eyebrow lifting as he righted himself, laying on his side and propped up on an elbow. "Babe, it's freezing outside." He said incredulously after pulling out his phone to check his phone for the weather.

"So?" You asked with a snort as you knelt to grab a shoe that had somehow found its way under the loveseat."Means the ice cream won't melt all over my hand like it normally does."

"You're so weird." Hongjoong muttered as he moved, reaching his longer arm under the sofa and pulling out your shoe. When you shot him a look as you slipped your other shoe on, he held up a placating hand, which you then used to hang his coat from. "I mean I'm super duper lucky to have such a loving girlfriend and I'll gladly eat uce cream with you in near freezing temperatures at 1 o'clock in the morning."

"Not sure I appreciate the attitude, Mister. But, I'll take it cuz I'm craving ice cream." You said as you shrugged on your jacket, pulling out the soft wool gloves that kept your fingers from, smiling when you saw his eyes light up as he recognized the gloves as the ones he'd bought you on your first overseas trip with him. It also just so happened to be the first time y'all had made love and you knew they reminded him of that night too when he slid an arm between your waist and the jacket, drawing you in for a kiss that had your knees threatening to give out, your hands grasping onto the lapels of his jacket to help you stay upright.

A swipe of his tongue and you were groaning into his open mouth, his other hand gripping your waist with an almost bruising force.

And just as quickly as he had deepened the kiss to where you swore you could almost see the stars, Hongjoong was stepping away, the deep red flush to his cheeks the only sign he was as flustered as you were. Gasping for breath, a quivering hand over your speeding heartbeat, you watched in a small daze as Hongjoong quickly saved his work and shoved his laptop into the backpack he carried everywhere before slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"Let's go get your ice cream, oh light of my life."

Snorting in laughter, you wrapped your scarf around your neck with slightly shaky hands, knowing he saw the trembling fingers when that smirk teased the corner of his lips that were a deep pink and kiss swollen and so very tempting. Feeling the familiar tingle running down your spine, you knew the instant Hongjoong sensed the change in your mood, an answering look in his eyes.

"Yeah, maybe skip the ice cream this time."

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart - Chapter 10.

- Falling Tears. 

Words: 10,833

Summary: The Drenchfort is not a place to be taken lightly. Beautiful as you find it, its dark corners hold many, terrible dangers and you soon learn that some monsters lurk closer than you think....

----

“Woah....”

“Do you know something, human? I'm beginning to think you may well be the most easily impressed creature this universe has ever spat out.” In spite of the brusqueness of his tone, Death's lips curve into the ghost of a smile as he watches you zigzag the path ahead of him, every now and again touching your fingertips reverently to the Drenchfort's damp, stone walls.

The horseman, a frequenter of bizarre and spectacular worlds, finds scarce little to be dazzled by in the ancient temple. Its high ceilings and immense chambers hardly seemed to differ from one another. There's a lingering smell of damp that invades his nostrils and absolutely everything is coloured a shade of uninspiring grey.

Life here had disappeared eons ago along with the water.

But here you are, gazing upon it all with the kind of wide-eyed wonder he would have expected you to give the White City.... or Eden. Not this bland, blocky temple stuck out in some far-off corner of a dying realm.

'Still-" He raises a brow as you crane your neck back to peer at the ceiling and end up tripping over a loose stone, 'At least she isn't complaining about wanting to go home.'

Out of nowhere, you decide to stop and poke at a dead fern hanging from the walls, dawdling long enough for the horseman to overtake you and continue on his way down the dank, misty corridor.

“I can't believe we've been living alongside an entire realm, and we had no idea!” you exclaim, tearing yourself away from the odd plant and bounding after Death once you realise he won't be stopping to let you sightsee.

“Well, it isn't as though you've been missing out on much,” he mumbles before raising his voice for you to hear, “Now, come along. The sooner we find the source of the tears, the sooner we can leave.”

Without hanging around to see if you've caught up, Death strides ahead to the end of the vast hallway and a pair of doors that sit squarely in your path. A thick layer of dust resting on the mottled wood indicates they haven't seen use for a good many years. Upon reaching them, he places a hand on their surface, only pausing once he notices your footsteps have ceased.

Sighing, Death glances over a shoulder and finds that you've once again stopped, this time to peer down into a small puddle at your feet.

'Water?' He flicks his gaze up to a hole in the ceiling through which he can make out the cloudy sky beyond. 'Nothing more than rainwater, then.'

“I sincerely hope you haven't already forgotten the first step?” he barks, causing you to jump and snap your head up.

“First step?” you echo, confused. Then, the previous day comes racing back and you recall the ground rules he laid out for you in front of the Cauldron. “Oh! Right, right, yeah. Stay close.” With that, you jog through the puddle - never minding the cool water that splashes up your legs as you go – and hurry back to the horseman's side. Once you reach him, he heaves out a sigh, rolls his eyes and gives the doors one, hard shove.

Awaiting you on the other side is a gargantuan, layered courtyard and what appears to be a statue, far taller and wider than any you've seen. It stands proudly in the centre and depicts some kind of stony giant with a water yoke perched heavily across its broad shoulders.

You're too late to catch the, “Woooah!” before it leaves your mouth.

“You should become an author,” Death says breezily, “Your first book; 'How to express wonder in two words or less.'”

He's only a little disappointed that his observation and suggestion go ignored.

Trundling down a comparatively small flight of stairs, you come upon a low wall and, peering out over it, let out yet another awed gasp.

“My god, it looks as if it could get up and start walking about at any second!” you remark, pushing yourself onto your tiptoes and leaning out even further to gaze down past the statue towards the bottom of the chasm. Several yards below you, sunlight refracts off the shallow water pooled around its feet where the ground is uneven.

“D'you think there are any fish down there?” you wonder aloud, pulling back and traipsing after Death along a pathway that hugs the outer, western wall and curves around to another set of wooden doors.

“If there are,” he replies, “Then I imagine they'd be the kind you want to avoid.”

“Wait. The fish here are dangerous too?”

“We haven't met any yet, but I imagine they would be,” he grunts, “Almost everything in this realm is potentially deadly. Part of why its people are so hardy, I suppose.”

Effortlessly, he throws open the doors and you both carry on into a long passageway that doesn't differ very much from the last. This one, however, houses a large, semi circular pipe that's set into the ground and runs all the way along the left side of the room before it disappears through a wall, sectioned off by a big, stone grate. A few inches of water sit in the bottom of the pipe and it suddenly occurs to you that this must be how the tears used to travel through the temple.

“I dunno why I'm surprised the fish here can be dangerous,” you chuckle out of the blue, filling the empty hallway with sound, “Like the fish on Earth are any less nasty. Ha! When me and my dad were in Mozambique, we.....Say-” You turn your head to scrutinise Death. “- You ever heard of a tiger fish?”

Heaving a weary sigh, he replies, “I've heard of a tiger, and I've heard of a fish.”

“Right, well, basically... Picture a fish about....Mmmm....This big -” Death very nearly gets smacked around the chest when your hands fly out to either side, leaving about three feet of air between your palms to indicate the space where an imaginary fish would go. “- And give it the teeth of a tiger.”

You stare at him for a while until he realises he's actually supposed to be playing along. Resisting the urge to grumble, Death nods curtly. “Alright?”

“Bam! That's a tiger fish!”

“Is there a point to this tale?” he mutters under his breath.

Carrying on as if you hadn't heard, you let your eyes glaze over with a memory, lost for a brief instance in the blissful past. “My dad took me fishing once in Mozambique. We were catching tiger fish and I was so afraid one would jump on the boat – well, it was less of a boat and more of a raft with an engine,” you laugh, “But dad? I remember him turning to look at me with this like, weird look on his face as he said, 'you know there are hippos and crocodiles in here too right?' Man, I screamed loud enough for everyone back at camp to hear me! Mum gave him such a bollocking.” Swiping a mirthful tear from your eye, your laughter eventually tapers off as you glance up at the horseman, who's gaze is trained on you, though it remains unreadable as ever. Sobered by his quiet observing, you cough awkwardly into a fist. “Uh, he was...he was just like that. Dad, I mean. I think he thought he was teaching me an important lesson.” Brows pinching, you swivel your head around to face forwards again. “No matter how much you're scared of a thing, there's usually something much, much worse out there for you to be afraid of.”

From the corner of his eye, Death watches your smile fade until it becomes a pensive frown.

“....Never thought I'd miss his stupid, pointless lessons so much.”

Moisture gathers behind your eyes and you hurriedly pivot away from the horseman, staring at the pipe and taking the opportunity to wipe your face, sniffling glumly, “Never thought I'd miss him so much.”

The horseman blinks, startled to find that his hand has unintentionally begun to rise and had been on a clear path to your shoulder before he caught himself and snatched it back. Scowling rebukingly down at the treacherous appendage, he closes it into a fist and keeps it firmly planted against his side. The mood well and truly soured, you press on in silence.

Before long, the two of you reach a point in the hallway where the path veers off sharply to the right.

Rounding the sharp bend, all thoughts of your father evaporate and you suddenly freeze in your tracks whilst the horseman takes a few more steps, although he too soon slows to a halt.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grumbles, “A stinger hive.”

Sure enough, up ahead and fused to the stone floor by a film of slimy webbing, is a bulbous, writhing pod that more closely resembles a venomous plant than any sort of 'hive.' Chittering and scratching can be heard coming from within the egg-shaped nest, and if you squint, you can even see dozens of silhouettes zooming about behind a thin, orange membrane.

Swallowing past a nervous lump, you suggest, “Maybe we can, like...sneak past?”

As if in direct defiance of your wishful thinking, an explosion of activity causes the pod to jerk violently.

“.....Maybe!” Death agrees, tone mocking.

Before you can move to stand behind him, a pair of flaps at the very top of the hive spring open.

Heart in your throat, you and the horseman stand rigid, staring suspiciously at the opening. Seconds later, you jump as a cloud of gigantic, flying insects comes bursting out and in no time at all, the hallway is promptly drowned under the volume of a hundred, buzzing wings.

You're too late to bite down on the ungodly shriek that leaps out of you and sets Death's teeth on edge.

He has all of a second to spare you an exasperated glower before the first insect whizzes in your direction. A hideous trill announces its approach and it darts expertly over the horseman, making a beeline straight for you.

Your sword and Death's pistol all but forgotten, you throw up your arms to act as meagre protection and cry out, “No!” when, all of a sudden, a pale hand shoots out and snatches the insect from the air a split second before it can thrust its barbed sting into your flesh.

Eyes peeking open, you watch, transfixed as Death clenches down hard, crushing the wriggling insect as though it were little more than a paper cup. “I didn't give you that gun because I was being nice!” he shouts, turning to face the swarm, squinting through it at the nest beyond.

“Oh, right!” Throwing your hands down, you frantically tug the gun out of its holster, grunting when it catches for a moment and then slides free. With the sound of angry buzzing filling your ears, you shakily raise your arms and try to aim, which soon proves a near impossibility. “I...I can't get a lock!” you cry, “They're moving too fast!”

There's no response, so you glance over at Death, only to find him gone. Squeaking out his name, you suddenly catch a flash of grey sprinting through the swarm. “Hey! Where are you going! Don't leave me!” It's useless to try and hide the panic in your voice.

Soon enough, your entire field of view is obscured and you can no longer see any trace of the horseman through their midst. The insects screech as one and converge on you, their fangs dripping a clear, no doubt venomous liquid.

Just then, you hear Death shout above the din, “What are you waiting for?! Shoot!”

“Where are you?!” you scream back, but again, you don't catch a reply. That, or there isn't one.

Blood thumping relentlessly in your ears, you take his advice and point the gun at the closest of the insects, squeezing the trigger. The shot rings out, you're nearly sent flying off your feet and a bug behind the one you'd been aiming for promptly explodes in a shower of green blood.

“Oh.”

In this case, it would appear their sheer numbers hold them to a disadvantage. So many insects choke the corridor, you only need to point and shoot in their vague direction and there's a high probability that the bullet will strike at least one.

Again, you fire into the swarm and – even though you're aiming at random – you manage to hit another stinger and send it spinning to the ground, dead. After that, your confidence begins to grow and soon, you've cut the cloud of insects down by a half, eternally grateful that Death's pistol doesn't need to be reloaded. It almost makes your hectic misses seem less costly.

Unfortunately for you, the more bugs you do manage to kill, the harder it becomes to hit those that remain and it isn't long before your arms start to shake, buckling under the strain of the gun's recoil.

All in all, it's abundantly clear to see that you're in trouble and unfortunately for you, the giant, flying insects seem to have noticed this as well.

You've stopped bothering to look for Death in between shots, choosing instead to focus on more pressing things such as not dying.

Only four stingers are left buzzing in the air after you effectively panicked and unloaded a maelstrom of bullets into the swarm, all the while back-peddling like the fires of Hell were licking at your toes.

Putting on a brave face – which is admittedly less brave and perhaps more of an unthreatening pout – you square your shoulders and shoot at the closest bug only to have it zoom out of the path of your bullet and continue to advance with its brethren, slowing considerably as if they're fully aware that you're no match for their speed and not yet experienced enough with your weapon of choice.

Staggering back, you ditch the pistol, all but throwing it back into the holster before yanking the sword out instead and aiming a wild swipe at one bug that dives towards you. Through sheer luck, the tip of your blade cuts across its poised abdomen and it shrieks, recoiling a second too late. The damage is done.

Blood spills from the wound until its wings stop humming frantically to keep it aloft and it falls in a downward spiral until it hits the ground and lays there with the rest of its fallen ilk.

“And then, there were three,” you murmur, slowly retreating whilst keeping a sharp eye trained on the last of the insects as they hover closer, one to your front and two attempting to flank you on either side.

Breathing coming out shallow and erratic, you keep your sword on the move, pointing it continuously between all three.

Of course though, as is just the way your life tends to pan out, the inevitable happens.

The heel of your boot suddenly strikes a loose slab of stone that pokes just a few inches higher out of the ground than those surrounding it. Belting out a short scream, you lose your balance and topple backwards, landing on your rear hard enough to send a sharp pain racing up through your coccyx.

“Gah! Sunnuvabitch, this is getting really OLD!” you holler at your clumsy feet.

For the insects, your mistake is an opportunity too perfect to forgo. Three, ear-splitting screeches snatch your gaze up from your fallen sword and you gasp, heart seizing as they fly at you, their poisoned barbs already oozing viscous liquid that's sure to kill you in three seconds flat. Although your hand reaches out to grab at Karn's sword laying to one side, you can tell you'll never be able to protect yourself in time.

Suddenly, cutting it just a little too close, a scythe comes whizzing into view above your head, slicing through the remaining stingers in a neat arc before curving back around to return the way it had come.

Panting hard, you reach up to wipe the sweat out of your eyes and gaze dumbfounded past the now dead stingers and down the corridor, your heart flip flopping upon seeing Death – scythe in hand – prowling up to you, his bandage-wrapped forearms tinged a dark shade of green.

“Death!?” you squeak, attempting to stand. Your hand slips on a patch of insect blood however, and you crash back onto your rump once again. Although there's a dizzying torrent of relief that he had not, in fact, left you for good, the shadow of a frown drapes across your features. “Where....Where were you!?

The thumb he tosses over a shoulder is casual, entirely too casual for your liking. It's as though he simply hasn't a care for how frightened he'd made you when he disappeared. Still, you crane your neck over his shoulder to see what he's indicating.

Behind him, you see the nest. Or rather, what remains of the nest. Its membrane hangs in tattered strips around the stump and the whole thing has sagged to the ground, wilted and no longer capable of spewing forth any more of those bloodthirsty insects.

His cold hand grabs the collar of your jumper and you glance up to see Death regarding you blankly, his eyes conveying no clue as to his inner thoughts. Just when you think he's about to tell you what a horrible job you did, the horseman pulls you off the ground and sets you carefully back on your feet. “Not bad,” he murmurs, appraising the dozens of dead stingers.

For a time, you simply stare up at him, gulping down breath after breath until your heart rate falls to something far less alarming. Then, to his surprise, your eyebrows scrunch together into a dark scowl and before he can say a word, you wrench your jumper out of his hand and take a step back, puffing out your chest. “Don't ever-” you seethe, raising a trembling finger and pointing it at his mask, “ - ever do that to me again! I thought you'd left me!”

At your outburst, the horseman huffs, affronted. “I was destroying the nest.”

“You could have told me that, you idiot!” After a second, your angry expression falls and you look down, voice losing most of its heat. “I was so scared.”

The horseman peers at you through narrow eyes, hard and unblinking until eventually, he tears his head away and stalks past, picking his way over the bodies of fallen insects. As you watch his retreating back, he grumbles something that sends a stab of shame racing through your gut.

“Yes, well...What else is new?”  

Inhaling softly, your eyebrows tilt upwards but you press your mouth into a tight line, determined to keep your lower lip from quivering.

For the second time in as many days, there's a twinge of discomfort that chases Death's words and a microsecond where he wishes he hadn't spoken them at all. He doesn't even need to look back to know that there are the beginnings of tears glistening in your eyes. Sighing quietly, he pushes forwards and supposes he can't begrudge you that.

Staring after him as he goes, you slowly feel your anger ebb away, rationality settling in its place.

You glance at the destroyed nest, then rove your eyes down to the three insects laying close to your feet.

“You didn't leave me though, did you?” you murmur softly, too soft for him to hear. While you might have been scared out of your wits, you weren't actually hurt. The horseman had come through for you once again, even if he did leave it to the last possible second. And if you ever do end up leaving this place, as Death planned, then he may well be the only friend you-...

Swallowing, you catch yourself before such a hopeful thought can take root.

Death doesn't seem the type to want, have or need friendship. Least of all that of a human's.

But while you're well aware that 'friend' probably isn't even a term in the horseman's vocabulary, you realise you'd rather at least have him as someone who tolerates you.

Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you draw in a deep breath, count to three and then blow it all out again, forcing yourself to deflate and expel the hurt. “Death, wait!” you call out, voice startlingly loud as it reverberates off the temple's walls. For a horrible moment, you think he won't stop, that he'll continue to stalk down the corridor and disappear through the doors at its end. So you're tentatively relieved that he pauses mid stride, deliberating a while until his shoulders slump and he twists his head to the side, just a fraction, but enough that you spot it.

Uninhibited by pride or spite, there's no hesitation when you blurt, “I'm sorry!” and proceed to stand there, fists still clenched at your sides and spine rigid with anticipation.

Each second that passes by in which there's no response renders your nerves more and more frayed. Still, you allow at least another minute to pass before your heart begins to sink, and as it does, your anxiety rises, which only presses you to keep talking. In times of stress, you've often resorted to idle prattling because listening to an awkward silence is something you despise. Best to fill it than let it fester.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. You didn't do anything wrong and you were right, me being scared isn't anything new! But I let fear make me ratty and I accused you of leaving me and, and-....”

You're forced to hesitate and draw in a lungful of air but any lull in sound makes his silence all the more deafening.

“Death?” Your voice cracks. “I -...I really am sorry, I didn't-”

“I heard what you said,” he finally interrupts, effectively shutting you up and setting your pulse to race.

After an excruciating wait during which you're certain he's getting ready to just up and leave you here in the corridor of a dilapidated temple, the horseman turns.

You imagine that there must be an easy smile on his face because his haunting eyes are soft than they had been moments ago and there's a gentleness to his tone that doesn't fit with the rest of his demeanour. “I was...merely trying to recall the last time I received an apology. It has been some time.”

Death has to hold back a chuckle at the way you start forwards only to stop again after a few steps, uncertain as to whether or not he still wants you by his side. Smirking, the horseman jerks his head at the doors behind him, reassuring you with a light, “Come along then.”

Your feet move before your brain does.

“I thought you weren't ever going to talk to me again!” you smile, jogging over to the horseman and adding a little sheepishly, “Really though, sorry for calling you an idiot and all that...”

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've heard it,” he replies, tilting his head down to regard your hesitant smile.

'Always so unsure of yourself.'

The thought has him shaking his head and, swallowing a tidbit of his own pride, he sighs, “And.... I suppose your fear was...rational. I left you alone to face an enemy you don't even know.”

Walking beside him to the end of the corridor, you smirk. “Was that an apology, Death?”  

“It's the closest thing you're going to get so don't push your luck.”

Smirk still planted across his lips, the horseman places a hand on the door and pauses as you do the same.

You shoot him a shy grin, then, together, the two of you push against your respective door and they slide open as one, allowing daylight to flood the hallway behind you.

Stepping through, you raise a hand and shield your eyes, forced to squint after the relative dinginess of the long passageway behind you.

“Finally,” Death pipes up at your side, venturing forward into the new area.

Once your eyes adjust, you lower your arm and blink curiously at your surroundings.

From what you can tell, you're standing on a large overlook that sits above a room you'd previously passed through some time ago. Like more of the temple's chambers, this one's roof has almost completely crumbled away and shafts of sunlight filter in through the huge gaps left in the stone. To your left is a large, familiar pipe. It's set into the floor and spans the western wall, and would have carried on through to the next room had there not been a heavy blockade at the far end, slotted neatly into place and kept there by a pair of thick, black chains hanging from the ceiling.

Here and there are growths of slick corruption, clinging to the walls and the parts of the roof that haven't deteriorated.

But perhaps the object that most captures your attention waits at the very edge of the stone overlook, resting unassumingly on a raised dais.  

“A lever!” you exclaim, bounding after Death as relief washes away the last of the bitter taste of your argument with him. You were beginning to think you'd never make any progress.

The horseman, reaching out and grasping the handle, simply replies, “So it is,” and gives it a sharp pull.

In an instant, the sound of gears clanking and grinding fills the area, though they're soon followed by a far less promising 'thump' and then, everything falls silent once more.

“Of course,” Death growls, yanking the lever a few more times and getting the same result until he promptly snatches his hand away, frustrated. “It's never that easy.” He stands there, chin in hand and muddles over the mechanism in front of him, blissfully unaware that you've started wandering curiously around the room, on the hunt for that mysterious 'thump.'

It doesn't take long to discover the source.

Trailing up a small staircase that takes you right to the lip of the pipe, you peer down inside for a second and your mouth pulls into a grin. Staring back is your wobbly reflection, smiling at you from within a pool of glistening water. Its surface sparkles and shines with every speck of light that hits it, and you can see clear through to the bottom of the pipe. You've never seen water as pure as this before.

There isn't a doubt in your mind of what you've discovered.

“Death! I think I found the tears!”

“That's wonderful, Y/n,” he calls back with the same enthusiasm of a parent whose child had just handed them a mud pie.

Slowly, your gaze travels up the blockade to the chains holding it in place. Sure enough, growing over and around those chains is a large, tangled cluster of Corruption, its putrid yellow crystals sticking out over the barricade.

“Hmm.” After levelling a pensive frown at the contraption, you raise your voice and shout, “Hey, Death!?”

“What?” comes the weary reply.

“Can you pull that lever again?”

There's a pause, then a huff, followed shortly by the sound of metal scraping against stone once more.

A moment later, you watch as the water blockade judders and stirs, rising a few inches above the pipe's base before its ascent is abruptly halted by Corruption. The heavy stone slab struggles up another centimetre or so but ultimately, it drops back down with a resonant thump.

Raising a brow, you scan the surface of the corruption again, murmuring to yourself, “There's gotta be a way to clear this up. We can't have come all this way for – ah hah!”

Just then, your eyes land upon a familiar, round ball that's half hidden in between the Corruption's oily, black tendrils.

Having heard your exclamation, Death starts towards the steps, “Y/n? What was that?”

“Nothing!” you reply hurriedly, grabbing his pistol from your waistband. Luckily, your intended target is neither moving, nor very far away – a damn sight better than the stingers. “Just hang tight, I'm gonna try something!”

“Why don't I like the sound of that?” Death moans.

Seconds after his complaint, a gunshot shatters the peaceful silence and for one, bleak moment, the horseman's gut lurches, fearing the worst. Before he can stop himself, a bark of, “Y/n!?” slips off his tongue, though he's suddenly interrupted by an even louder, more jarring 'bang' that shakes the ground beneath his boots.

Racing away from the lever, he makes for the foot of the staircase you'd previously wandered up, only slowing to a halt when he sees you ambling back down them with a wide smile plastered across your face.

Without uttering a word, he simply stares, head twisting to follow you whilst you squeeze past him and traipse easily over to the lever.

“Y/n?” He pauses to clear his throat. “What did you-”

Swiftly, you hold up a finger to silence him and – incredibly – it works. Death's mouth falls shut and he tilts his head to the side, intrigued.

Still, wearing a proud grin, you take the lever in both hands and shove it to the left, throwing your whole shoulder into it at one point.

As soon as it slots into place, the grinding of gears travels through the floor, up the walls and as you dash back towards the stairs, you see the chains – now free of Corruption – are hoisting the blockade up into the air, and out of the way of the water in the pipe.

“Yes!” you laugh, grabbing Death's arm and giving it an excited jostle, “Come on!” Without waiting to see if he's following, you hop up the steps and drop to your hands and knees at the lip of the stone pipe, peering down as the water rushes through and onwards to some other room in the temple.

Meanwhile, Death remains where he is, curiosity slowly replacing bewilderment. Never before had he seen so much excitement exude from a creature for accomplishing the bare minimum. Then again, perhaps to call it the 'bare minimum' is a little discourteous. After all, he hadn't been the one to figure out why the lever didn't work. Although he absolutely would have managed to...In the end.

Beating back the uninvited smile that had crept onto his face after seeing your own, the Horseman sweeps lazily back towards the room's entrance, confident that he won't get far before you decide to join him. Sure enough, his ears soon pick up the clumsy pitter patter of booted feet as they fly down the stairs in a hurry, straight to his side.

“You're getting rather good at blowing up shadow bombs,” he remarks once you've fallen into step next to him, taking two strides for every one of his.

In response, you shrug and tilt your chin down to hide a bashful grin. “Had to be good at something, I suppose.” A moment later you perk up again and clap your hands together. “So! Back to Tri Stone then?”

“Tri Stone?” he echoes, stepping through the doors into the corridor once again, “You want to leave a job half finished?”

“But...I thought we just...” Glancing back at the room you'd left behind, you continue, “Didn't we release the tears?”

Death finds it odd yet endearing that you included him in that statement. Most would be quick to claim the glory.

“While those are the tears,” he says, “I highly doubt you did much more than move them on to another room in the DrenchFort.”

“How do you know?”

The horseman shrugs. “Call it a hunch. As I said, nothing is ever that easy.”

-----------

“Well, looks like you were right, Death.”

“That surprises you?”

“No, no it's just....I hoped you were wrong.”

Retracing your steps back through the temple, you eventually find yourselves back in the first courtyard, only this time, it's clear to see the changes your actions have incurred. For one thing, the stone giant is no longer burdened by a dry water yoke. Instead, massive torrents of water cascade down from massive pipes on either side of the statue and into a semi-circular pipe that winds around its front with a little offset carrying the water flow underneath a raised balcony, upon which sits the entrance to your next destination.

It's through this entrance that you and Death venture and immediately come to an abrupt halt at the edge of a small cliff. The ceiling of the new chamber looms high overhead, stretching all the way across to the other side whereupon there's another door that no doubt leads to your next destination. However, separating you from this door is a pool. Deep but crystal clear water lets you see right through to the bottom, where stalagmites rise like the clawed fingers of some great, underground giant.

“How on Earth are we supposed to cross this?” you whine, earning an incredulous glance from the horseman.

“Is is not obvious?” he drawls.

“You're not seriously suggesting we swim that?”

“You can't swim?”

“I can too swim, I just -” Eyeing the dark corners of the pool warily, you try not to imagine the horrible, swimming monstrosities that could be lurking down there. “Just wish I hadn't started talking about tiger fish a while back.”

Rolling his eyes, Death takes a step away from the ledge. “I don't think you'll find any variety of Earthen fish down there.”

“Nope,” you gulp, still peering down into the water, “But s'like dad taught me. There's always something worse to be afraid of...”

A sudden rush of air whizzes past you, disturbing your hair and you gasp as Death leaps gracefully off the ledge. You gape at the expert free fall, marvelling after his swan dive. Once the bubbles clear, you can see him below the surface, twisting himself around underwater as he scans for any signs of life, but finding none, he propels himself upwards and bursts through the surface, throwing back his long, black hair, some of which clings to his mask and glistens with little droplets of water. Upon resurfacing, his ears are promptly filled with the sound of clapping and he glances up to where you still stand on the ledge, smacking your palms together and cheering, “Ten out of ten! A perfect entry!”

There's a confused pause before his voice travels up to you, bouncing off the cavern walls. “What?” You open your mouth to respond but Death quickly shakes his head and adds, “Never mind. I don't care. Now, are you coming or not?”

Humming uncertainly, you edge a little closer to the side and squint down into the water, lips pressed together.

Below you, the horseman sees your nerves are getting the better of you. “Listen,” he calls up to you, sighing, “If you're going to spend all your time waiting for 'something worse' to come along, you'll never get anywhere!”

“Alright! Okay, I'm coming!” you shout, muttering to yourself afterwards, “Before I change my mind.”

Taking a deep breath and holding it in your cheeks, you move back, count to three, then run for the edge, leaping off it with a half nervous, half giddy, “CANNONBALL!” blasting off your tongue.

A few seconds of soothing free fall occur and you curl yourself up tight, hands looped around your knees, hair dancing in the wind as the water rushes up to meet you.

The horseman's face falls during your descent but he doesn't manage to move out of the way in time to avoid a wall of water splashing his mask when your body hits the surface and sends waves rippling outwards. Upon coming up to breathe, you wipe the moisture out of your eyes and paddle over to Death, who is floating nearby, water droplets trickling off his chin and a harsh glare leering out at you from behind dark eye sockets.

“Oops. Sorry, did I get you?”

The flat look you receive is enough of an answer.

“Ah well,” you continue, “You were wet anyway.”

He grumbles, somehow a far less intimidating noise now that his hair sticks to his scalp and you can even make out the tops of his ears poking through the ebony locks. Turning himself about, Death begins to swim for the other side. Reaching the rocky wall in no more than a few seconds, he places a hand on it and twists his head round to ask if you'll be needing help climbing up and then lets out a low moan when he sees you've barely managed to swim more than a few feet.

“Man,” you pant, spitting water from your mouth, “I forgot how hard it is....to swim in...clothes!”

Worried that your boots will come off if you kick to hard, you settle for a gentle breast stroke instead, taking your sweet time in crossing the pool. Unfortunately, by the looks of the horseman powering his way back over to you, time isn't something he's interested in taking.

“Come here,” he grunts and slips a large hand around your wrist.

Before you can react, you're suddenly yanked through the water, tugged along by the horseman and making it to the opposite side in record time. Once there, instead of releasing you, Death simply slings your arm around his neck and tells you to hold on.

Understanding, you throw the other arm around him, clinging to his cowl and scrabbling for purchase on his slippery skin. You squeak as the palm of his hand then comes up and nudges your backside, hiking you higher onto the horseman's back so that you're more securely in place. Once he's sure you won't fall off, Death crams his fingers into a notch in the wall and starts to haul both himself and you out of the water.

Shivering at the cold air hitting your skin, you lay your sopping hair against his spine and say, “Thanks for the lift.”

He's quiet for a time, most likely concentrating on scaling the sheer cliff face but eventually he rumbles out a gruff, “You're welcome,” and pushes on.

You get to the top and Death clambers over the lip, crouching slightly so you can slide off his back onto your own two feet again.

After checking that nothing had fallen off during the climb, you accompany your dripping companion through the doorway, wringing out the excess water in your top. Beyond lays a perfectly circular chamber, and although the ceiling is intact, it's significantly lower than the others you've happened upon. The space is large and, for the most part, empty, save for one detail that sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Huh,” you grunt, “That looks... out of place.”

Death's eyes narrow to a harsh squint and he quietly drawls, “Your powers of observation continue to astound me.”

Dead ahead, sitting in the centre of the damp chamber is an odd heap of rocks, branches and other various assortments of foliage, all cobbled together on top of an enormous, grey boulder that protrudes from the stone underfoot. The pile stands high over your head and looks so much like it doesn't belong with the rest of the room's natural décor, you can't help noticing it.

But while you only remain curious as to its odd placement, the horseman beside you is positively quivering with anticipation. For what though, you can't yet tell.

Just as you're about to ask him what he knows that you don't, the walls surrounding you begin to shudder, a low rumble coursing along the ground to shake you in your boots. Then, from the towering lump of debris, something lets out a piercing screech and scuttles from behind a mess of tangled brambles.

“What the Hell!?” you blurt out, stumbling backwards a few steps.

A bizarre creature resembling some unholy fusion of a rhinoceros beetle, a crab and a straight-up boulder scurries about on its six legs, a long, horned snout pointed up in the air as if smelling for something. It's only when you notice a complete lack of any visible eyes that you realise, even if it can't see you, it can probably smell you and Death.

Mostly Death.

The overgrown bug stops at last and snaps its head towards you both, lower jaw sliding open to show off a wide mouth filled with viciously sharp fangs, a low hiss escaping from between them.

“Oh great,” you say, “It knows we're here.”

“It is not the only one,” Death growls, and suddenly, he has his scythes in hand. You never even saw him move.

“What do you mean, 'it's not the only one?'”

He doesn't clarify, and your heart starts to beat a little faster. “Death?”

As if on cue, the chamber trembles once more, only ten times more violently and you nearly stumble into the horseman, who – of course – remains wholly unaffected by the abrupt tremor. Without thinking particularly hard on it, you throw out a hand and brace yourself against his sturdy forearm for balance, failing to note how it goes rigid beneath your grasp.

“What's happening!?” you squawk, but you needn't have bothered asking because a second later, you receive an answer.

Right before your eyes, the ground beneath the mass of rocks and bushes splits, crumbling apart in the wake of a gargantuan monstrosity shoving itself up and out from underneath the very stone itself. As it rises, it becomes clear that the vegetation is actually part of something much bigger, sitting astride a vast back like a growth. For a moment, you're reminded of an iceberg. For all that you can see above the surface, you just know there's something far worse lurking below it. Not a moment after the thought occurred, your comparison proves somewhat accurate.

A leg, thicker and longer than your whole body, wrenches itself free of the ground and slams down next to the smaller creature, and as you watch, horrified, five more legs tug themselves free to join the first. Then, with a final push, the rest of it appears.

As a whole, it isn't dissimilar to the first creature, excepting the fact that it's about twenty times the size and a hundred times more terrifying. The battering ram of a horn, extending at least ten feet from its forehead, swings wildly too and fro as the beast shakes itself loose of lingering debris and bellows out an ear-splitting screech.

“Jeezus,” you gulp, finally releasing Death and letting your hands fall limply to your sides, “that is one. Big. Bugger.”  

Unfortunately, the horseman doesn't appreciate your poor attempt at a pun as evidenced by a scoff that lingers somewhere between disgusted and exasperated.

“Karkinos,” he growls, bending low and switching his gaze between the smaller bug and its far larger counterpart.

“Oh, you two know each other?”

“She's... more of a household name.”

“....That's a she?”

The aforementioned 'Karkinos' turns its horrendous, craggy face towards the sound of your voice and while there are no eyes to find you, it has your position locked. Its angular jaw stretches open across the middle of its head where rows upon rows of teeth – each the size of your hand – gleam out at you from within the wet darkness.

“Do you think you can manage the offspring if I handle its mother?”

Incredulous, your eyes dart sideways to stare at the horseman. “Death, we...we can't fight that thing! She's too big!”

A soft snort, and Death - who still hasn't taken his eyes off Karkinos - hums, remarking, “I've faced far bigger than this.”

Chills run down your spine at his casual remark. It is difficult for you to imagine that there are creatures out there that are larger and more fearsome than this one. You don't have time to let your mind run wild with possibilities though, for the oversized insect suddenly rears back onto her hind legs and screeches, outraged at having her slumber disturbed.

“Maybe she'll be slow,” you whimper hopefully, “because she's so big?”

“I wouldn't count on it. Be ready to – MOVE!”

Death's urgent shout is all the warning you have before Karkinos suddenly propels herself forward, all six of her legs scuttling madly, carrying the heavy bulk in your direction at an alarming speed. She comes within metres of crushing you against the wall when a hand falls heavily on your shoulder and gives it a tremendous shove.

With a yelp, you flounder sideways and hit the ground hard, all the air leaving your lungs. Shortly after you fall, a rush of wind passes over your head and there's an almighty crunch, followed by a roar of pain which quakes the entire room.

Peeling yourself off the ground, you swiftly roll over to see what had happened and would laugh aloud if you could find the courage to.

In trying to flatten you and Death, Karkinos had managed to plough right into the solid wall at the back of the chamber and is now in the process of shaking the daze from her bruised head.

Across the room to your right, Death is already up and running.

Scythes drawn, he lunges for the bug's legs and starts slashing, no doubt trying to cripple it, but the hard shell covering her limbs proves too strong to be broken by even the horseman's weaponry and from where you are, you can tell it's no use, the scythes merely glance off her outer husk.

Giving her head one last, violent shake, Karkinos lets out another shriek of outrage and swings her horn down at Death, barely missing him by an inch as he leaps back out of reach.

“I don't think hitting her legs will work!” you inform him, getting to your feet.

The creature launches herself across the room at the horseman once more but he just has the time to shoot you a murderous glare and a “Really?” that's so heavily laced in sarcasm, you can almost taste the venom dripping from his tongue. Then, he's gone, darting backwards away from Karkinos's swinging claws whilst you watch on, helpless.

You're so focused on Death leading his assailant in this morbid dance that you don't notice the sound of scuttling legs approaching from behind until it's nearly too late. However, at that moment, the hairs on the nape of your neck suddenly stand to attention and you gasp, spinning around to find Karkinos's offspring stampeding towards you.

“Ah! Shi-!” Cutting yourself off, you scramble backwards and attempt to tug Death's pistol out of its holster, which proves to be a lot trickier than you'd like.

Meanwhile the bug is bearing down on you with no sign of letting up.

Closer and closer it charges, jaw hanging open and almost scraping the ground in anticipation of a kill. Already, you can feel the heat of its rancid breath hitting your skin.

“Come on, come on!” you mutter urgently, backing into a wall and still trying to release the catch on the holster, made trickier thanks to the water coating its surface and rendering it slippery to the touch.

Then, just as it seems you might have finally run out of time and beast's shadow falls over you, the pistol flies up and out of its confines, points straight down the bug's gullet and though it may be your hand that's wrapped firmly around the grip, you're sure the gun had moved as if it had a mind of its own.

As the bug lunges, spittle flying from its maw, a rush of hatred pounds through your gut so unexpectedly, you think you're about drop the pistol but instead, your finger squeezes the trigger and a bullet rips out of its chamber and blasts clear through the creature's skull, splattering the wall above you in crimson blood.

Blurting out a surprised trill, it falters and stumbles as its front legs give out, only to slump forward and crash to the ground where it slides to a halt, nose bumping against your boots.

Pressed up against the wall, you watch it twitch and writhe for several seconds, the gun still smoking in your hands.

Suddenly, the bug lifts its head into the air and the motion pulls a scream from your lips and immediately, you point the gun at it again, firing off several more rounds and only ceasing when it thumps back into the dirt, tongue lolling and an ever-growing patch of blood oozing from its grotesque maw.

The sounds of Death's fight against Karkinos still rattle the chamber but for just a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, shakily placing the pistol back into its holster and raising a hand to your forehead. The abrupt swell of hate you'd felt when the bug had been inches from killing you has faded, but the memory of it lingers. Shuddering, you curl your arms around yourself and wish you could shake the feeling. You've hated before, certainly. But never to that extent. It was almost as if the hatred had belonged to someone else entirely.

“Oh no you don't!”

The horseman's harsh shout thrusts you back into the moment and you give a start, head snapping up to spot Karkinos, who had wheeled herself about at the sound of gunfire and, upon seeing her offspring dead at your feet, lets out a mighty roar, scraping her front claw on the ground like a bull readying its charge.

Switching your gaze between the raging monstrosity and her ilk, your mistake eventually clicks.

“Uh oh.”

Karkinos howls and begins to thunder her way across the room.

However, before she can make it more than a few metres, a pale blur speeds ahead of her and suddenly, Death is standing in her path, a furious shield between you and the bug, his back arched and chin tilted down to glare up at her from behind the sockets of his mask.

In spite of her superior size, she slides to a stop just in front of him, stamping her claws into the ground, unsure of whether to advance.

“Karkinos!” the horseman bellows, “Your fight is with me.” With that said, he swings his scythes into a vicious uppercut, connecting with her cragged jaw, and while the move barely does a lick of damage, it does focus her attention back on her former target.

Teeth gnashing, she tries to knock Death off balance with her horn, though she misses spectacularly when he pushes off his feet and dashes aside, drawing her along with him and ensuring that she follows, away from you.

As he does, you abruptly realise that – unwittingly or not – Death has just given you an opening.

While the bug continues to stalk him back across the chamber, she inadvertently presented you with her backside.

There beneath the stony armour, lies a soft, pink underbelly, bulbous and distended and swaying back and forth like the world's ugliest pendulum.

A claw-tipped leg lifts into the air and slams down where Death had been standing mere seconds before.

The horseman feints left and manages to throw another strike at the bug, again to little effect. Karkinos tries once more, this time with the opposite leg and once more, Death spins gracefully to the right, barely avoiding a painful impaling.

But then, the overgrown beetle readies a leg for the third time, and that was the moment where things really went south.

You can see it in Death's muscles, how they bunch and bristle the instant before he makes to dodge left again, his feet planted firmly in the ground and the slight bend of his knees.

He'd already predicted Karkinos's next move and knew what action to take...or so he thought.

Evidently, he underestimated her intelligence, for as soon as she raised her leg and he threw himself sideways with the intention of evading a blow, she thrust her horned head forwards and caught the horseman square in his chest.  

Death's grunt of pain registers well before you even realise you've cried out.

The unexpected blow sends him hurtling backwards several feet where he collides with the wall, head smacking audibly against the hard stone.

There isn't even a second for him to recover before the bug is upon him again, ploughing into his torso with her huge, protruding horn and pinning him firmly in place, grinding forwards to slowly increase the pressure.

It doesn't take more than a second for you to understand that she intends to crush him.

Panic stricken, you freeze, curling in on yourself and staring unblinkingly at the disaster unfolding before you. All of a sudden, your indomitable protector doesn't seem so indomitable anymore. And that frightens you more than you thought it would because it becomes brazenly clear that it he dies, then you most definitely will. It's a selfish thought, but it's the first that popped into your head when you witnessed Death's mistake. After the knee-jerk, selfish thought that stems from an instinct to survive, there comes one that's far more sobering and separates you from your primeval ancestors.

The very prospect of Death being hurt fills you with the same kind of awful, debilitating dread that you experienced on Earth when you watched helplessly from afar as a winged monster smashed its way through the church roof and descended upon dozens of vulnerable people inside. Just as you had then, you find yourself struck by the overwhelming surge of determination to go back, to help.

On Earth, Death had been there to keep you from running headlong into danger.

This time however, nobody is here to hold you back.

Karn's sword is in your hand before you even thought about drawing it and shortly afterwards, you're running full-tilt, blood pounding like the beat of a war drum and eyes fixed hatefully on the creature's exposed belly.

Above the sound of scrabbling claws and your own, ragged breaths, you don't hear Death's frantic shout, but you figure his words can't be any more important than stopping this thing from killing him.

Crying out a mess of utter nonsense, you skid to a halt beneath her and, gathering all the strength your little arms can muster, you thrust the sword up and into the spongey, pink flesh above.

An agonised howl threatens to deafen you as Karkinos throws her head back, opens her maw wide and screams her pain to the heavens.

---------

Free at last, Death drops to the ground, collapsing forwards with one hand braced in the dirt and one splayed out across his battered chest. He will recover shortly, of course. This he's more than aware of. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt something fierce.

The screech that invades his ears eventually garners his attention and Death raises his head, gaze falling upon the form of his stalwart, little companion, arms half buried in the guts of the monstrous beetle and a look of sheer terror plastered on your sweaty face.

So taken aback by the sight, Death murmurs your name in a gentle breath. “Y/n?”

At the sound of it, your eyes snap down to lock with his and for a split second, he could almost believe you actually look happy to see him.

The remotely tender pang in his chest is soon replaced by a jolt of alarm soon after as the huge beast abruptly swings herself around, faster than either of you could have anticipated and your arms are almost torn from their sockets, the sword sliding free of Karkinos's flesh with a wet squelch.

Time creeps to a near standstill and Death's gaze remains fixed unwaveringly to yours when her monumental horn sweeps through the air....

…and slams into your ribcage.

All at once, the oxygen is expelled from your lungs and steals the scream that had been on the very tip of your tongue. The force of the blow sends you flying several yards until you hit the wall with a dull thud and crumple to the ground an instant later, eyes squeezed shut while your mouth hangs agape, struggling to suck in even the smallest breath through such excruciating pain. Weakly, you draw your hands up towards your chest and there you lay, curled onto your side whilst Karkinos advances with measured steps, lips pulled over her gums and fangs to resemble what could almost be a cruel grin.

Unbeknownst to the horseman, his lips have peeled themselves back as well.

Slowly, he roves his gaze over your limp body, from the hair sticky with sweat and water to your tiny hands that are bent up against your heart, shaking vigorously.

He registers Karkinos stalking towards you and as she opens her mouth to let out a sharp trill, his stupor finally lifts, paving the way for an eerie calm to fall over his mind. The kind of calm he hadn't known in decades. The kind of calm that precedes a most vicious tempest.

It begins as a low thrum deep in his chest that slowly builds and builds until he can feel a dark, pulsating ball of ancient magic wedged in the place where a heart has long since ceased to beat. The malicious energy ripples outwards in waves, dispelling any heat from the room and leaving the air far colder than it had been minutes ago. For the first time in years, Death sits at the epicentre of his own, personal storm, inky hair billowing around his shoulders whilst his hands begin to elongate and grow, bones popping noisily whilst his eyes that once blazed like hellish fire now burn white-hot behind his mask's sockets.

The wind whips up around him and as he slowly begins rising into the air, his face disappears into the shadow of a tattered, indigo hood. A flash of blinding purple light illuminates the chamber, soon accompanied by a loud 'CRACK' and there, in the place where Death had been standing, is suddenly a huge, grim and ghastly spectre, hanging suspended in the air with an ancient cloak undulating out behind it.

Its head turns briefly to regard the small, gasping human on the ground, who's eyes are now wide open, bloodshot and staring up into the darkness of its hood as if searching for some semblance of a recognisable face.

Then, Karkinos shifts around to look at the newcomer, who's head snaps back towards her, long skeletal fingers kneading around the handle of a scythe that's almost as tall as its wielder and no doubt just as deadly.

Laying there on the floor, half conscious and in entirely too much pain, it's all you can do to look up between Karkinos's many legs at the giant shade as it stretches out a pair of wings that are devoid of any membrane or feathers. Bleached vertebrae clacks together loudly as it flaps them, a low hiss seeping out from beneath its hood, and when Karkinos turns fully to acknowledge the threat, it pounces.

Tears blur your vision but you can see the first blow it strikes with that wicked scythe, how it bowls the wretched bug right off her feet and sends her crashing onto her side, legs flailing madly as they try to regain purchase on the ground.

Darkness suddenly covers your eyes and you don't realise it's because you've blinked until the haunting, cloaked figure is once more in view, its weapon slicing a perfect cross into Karkinos's underbelly.

The next thing you see is that belly splitting open and a torrent of blood comes gushing out of the wound, flooding the grey stone below and painting it a shade of glistening red.

Another period of darkness passes and upon opening your eyes, you find that Karkinos lays utterly still nearby while the spectre hovers in the air at her side, staring down at the corpse with apparent disinterest.

You blink again, and suddenly, its eerie gaze is turned onto you.

Crying out results in no more than a pathetic whimper. Anything louder and you fear your ribs might break, provided they haven't already.

Delirious, you try to speak. “D....De...”

The phantom looms closer and from the corner of an eye, you spot one of its hands creeping towards you and a fresh bout of fear swells in your chest. “Dea...th!” you croak urgently, “He-elp!”

It's no use. Large, chilly fingers work themselves underneath you, curling around your torso and lifting you off the hard ground where the creature continues to raise you until you're within a mere foot of its face.

Sucking a paltry amount of air in through your teeth, you squint up into its dark hood and press yourself back against the hand that holds you.

“Mmm...Monster...” you breathe, more an observation than an accusation. As if in response, its shoulders slump noticeably, wings drooping a little along with them. 

Finally, your ascent halts and then, it's just you – a young, wounded human – staring up at a figure that's so strange yet so, so familiar at the same time. The part of you that isn't hurting and struggling to breathe wonders how both can be true. How can you recognise something you've never seen before?

All of a sudden, from out of the purple cloak, there's a gentle rattle, followed by a gust of frigid air that washes over your face. Then, eyes widening just a fraction, you focus on the cold, finding that it too is oddly familiar. On a whim, you muster up what precious little oxygen remains in your lungs and exhale, “Death?”

The rattle turns into a low hum which rumbles through your body and the spectre's head dips once, then bobs back up again; an unmistakable nod.

“But.....how?”

Ignoring your question, the Reaper shifts and moves a finger to brush the side of your torso where Karkinos had battered you moments before.

In an instant, white-hot pain lances through your ribcage and you twist your face up, too weak to squirm away. “ARGH! S-Stop!” you choke even as darkness bleeds into the corners of your vision, “You're hu..,hurting me!”

As if he'd been struck, the horseman whips his hand back and an apologetic croon warbles out from under his hood which he shakes rapidly from side to side, trying to convey without a word, that he hadn't intended to hurt you. Listlessly, you wonder why he isn't speaking before a more pressing matter promptly calls for your attention.

Trying fruitlessly to calm down your thundering heartbeat, you pinch your eyes shut and grasp at one of his finger bones, giving it a weak tug as tears stream down your cheeks and drip onto his hand. “Death,” you gulp, failing to hide a flinch when the void where his face ought to be looms closer, “Can't...breathe.” No sooner had you uttered those last words than your eyes roll into the back of your head and Death's insistent rattling fades into silence.

  --------

It takes several, long moments for the horseman's Reaper form to move. One by one, his long fingers curl over the human in his grasp. Although unconsciousness is never ideal, in this instance it seems to be for the best, as already your breaths are coming in a little more easily and your tiny chest begins rising and falling properly. Karkinos's attack had winded you but it was your own panic that exacerbated the symptoms. From what he can tell at a glance, nothing critical is broken.

'Eideard,' the Reaper's more rational counterpart whispers in his mind, snapping the beast out of his trance and pushing his attention to the open doorway standing invitingly at the far end of the round chamber, beyond which he can clearly make out a lever sticking out of a raised dais. You'd both made it. Even the more primal aspect of the Grim Reaper can recognise the end of the goal.

A gentle rush of air escapes from the hood, so quiet it could simply be just another breeze blowing in from outside. Gliding silently towards the lever, the spectre is so busy fighting to stay in control of its host, reluctant to relinquish its hold of the fragile life in its palm, it barely notices that its rawboned thumb has taken to stroking gently down your chest.

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 61

With her legs shaking, she walked down the stairs, money was running a little too low again to keep ordering in, going out and getting groceries was cheaper, the only problem was that she hadn't really gone out for what? Days? Weeks? Ok, here you go, she pulled open the door and slowly stepped out onto the pavement where she was nearly run over by a guy on a bike. Hello New York, she rolled her eyes and carefully went on her way to the local supermarket, it was freezing but the sun was out, normally this would be her kind of weather, but being a bit undercome, right now it only gave her a headache. Stop moping, just keep walking, get your muscles going again and enjoy doing something brainless and totally simple, the only thing you have to do is make a choice in groceries. The supermarket was crowded and noisy and for a second she hesitated, maybe she should do this another time, no, just go in and let yourself get human again, she took a shopping basket and started her round, fresh vegetables, fruit, water, bread, vitamines were on the menu of priorities. Slowly she walked through the aisles, loading up her basket she started to make her way to the check-out, “hello Miss, haven't seen you in a while, how was Europe?” the cashier who she always had a little chat with every time she came here smiled at her. And just like that, the wind was knocked out of her “uhmm, fine yeah” what else was she supposed to say? My lover dragged me across Europe, cheating on me without me knowing and having a good laugh about it?. “It must be so nice to have such a famous man in your life, I saw some pictures of you two..I follow his instagram you see..” Ok enough, she quickly pushed all her purchases in her carrier bags “what's the damage?” she quickly cut her off and didn't wait for her answer, swiping her card through the machine. Out of breath and on the verge of hyperventilating she stumbled out of the supermarket and back onto the pavement, there was no escaping him, she could run from him all she could, but she couln't outrun social media and his followers while all she wanted was to disappear from view and get her anonymity back.

What time was it in NY? Would she be up yet? Oh come on, think Jared, you're in LA, ok hours earlier in NY right? Oh fuck it, he tapped on her number and held the phone to his ear, he could actually hear the blood pump through his head. “You've reached Harper's voicemail, please leave a message after the beep”, goddamn voicemail “Hey babe..it's me..again..I wanted to wish you a happy birthday..I just wish I was there with you..but..anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you..and I love you..very much..please forgive me..so..happy birthday honey..I love you” he breathed and slowly disconnected the call. That's when it got too much for him, he sank down on a chair at his kitchen counter and cried his eyes out,  on the other side of the country, Harper stepped down from her scaffolding to wash out some brushes, a little break, she had been going for hours and she was hungry, on her way to the kitchen she turned the heating up a few notches and held her cold hands above the heating, they were cramping up and she wanted to keep going tonight. She sat down with a glass of wine and her cupcake that she had saved, 'happy birthday to me' she sadly smiled and slowly took a bite from the sweet treat, her eyes drifted over her kitchen, she needed to do dishes soon..her phone..leave it..but like a magnet she reached for the device, ignore the mails..she took another bite of her cake and let the phone vibrate back to life..maybe take some pictures of the progress on her paintings. What the..once again her screen piled up with notifications..her voicemail was full? Great, start deleting then..but she must have pushed a wrong button because suddenly Jared's voice drifted through the room on speaker “Hey babe..it's me..again..I wanted to wish you a happy birthday..I just wish I was there with you..but..anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you..and I love you..very much..please forgive me..so..happy birthday honey..I love you”. She nearly choked as her throat went completely dry and painful, tears bubbling up in her eyes..he remembered..stupid fuck..so saying happy birthday was gonna make it all better? Fuck you, Jared..the only way to stop him is to reply..just not now..there's more important things at hand like finishing a couple of paintings.

It's pointless so stop checking your phone, he put it down but then there was a bleep, her bleep and his breath got stuck in his throat

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: stop

Jared,

stop blowing up my phone, I'm not interested in this huge charm operation, I can't handle it.

You did what you did, so there's nothing to talk about anymore.

Leave me alone, ok? Let my heart heal, I'm done with having you splatter it over the floor and me having to scrape it back together, even telling you this is probably causing you to have to biggest gloating session ever witnessed because that's how you roll isn't it?

And that was a rhetorical question, so in case you don't know what that is: I don't need an answer, so kindly refrain from mocking me and driving the knife in even deeper.

Harper

Fuck..his stomach plummeted in his chest and dark spots danced in front of his eyes, no..babe please..what did I expect though? She's over me, she's over..US..I can't go on like this, I just can't..I'm never gonna see you again, am I? Harper Coco De Robiano d'Arby, this just can't be true.

“Hey, wanna come and help unload the Christmas tree? Mom's just arrived, it's huge” Shannon waltzed inside the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw his baby brother sitting there with his face buried in his arms. “What's going on?” he sat down next to him and saw the phone still clutched in his hand “Harper?” stupid question, who else could bring him down like this? He'd seen his share of Jared's breakups, but this one? Oh no, he'd never seen him in this state, he was actually suffering. Jared slowly raised his head and shrugged, he couldn't talk, couldn't get himself to actually say something, what was there left to say? “OK, I get it..all the more reason to stop moping and come help us decorate that damn tree, it'll take your mind of things, and if that doesn't work then we can always go out afterwards and drink ourselves into a stupor? See, I'm full of brilliant ideas, so come on”

”So she actually replied”? Shannon was surprised to see him nod, the flames in the fire basket at the back of the garden lit up the lines on Jared's face, “yeah..she hates..no she loathes me, doesn't want to have anything to do with me” his lips turned to the thinnest line while he stared into the fire, lost in his thoughts. “Maybe she feels a bit..overwhelmed by your calls and stuff..give her a little time” he was running out of things to say, “how much time and how much space can I give her? I haven't seen or spoke to her in weeks..it's her birthday and..just the thought that she has to spend it on her own is killing me”. Jared ran his hand over his face “we'll never even get a first Christmas together”, that's when the light in Shannon's head popped on “but we're in New York then..you could go see her” he hopefully raised his eyebrows like he had found the ultimate solution. “NO!!” Jared shot up out of his seat like he was stung by a bee “forget it, I'm not going over there..I can't handle her rejection again, no, no way, no fuckin' way!” his chair toppled over as he ended the conversation by stomping back over to the house.

Harper yawned over her cup of coffee, she didn't get much sleep after what happened yesterday, no don't think about it, block it from your mind, her eye fell on the small pile of post that she had dropped on the kitchen counter after her daily walk to the bakery. Slowly she started rummaging through it, bills, bills, just when she was about to push it away again, there was a beautiful envelope with a swirly handwriting, bitten with curiosity she carefully opened it. It was a personal invitation from the owner of the biggest and most renowned art gallery of New York inviting her to his Christmas dinner/party, every year she would stare at the pictures of the same most exclusive party in glossy magazines. She kept reading as the letter was completely personalized, saying that he saw her work on Instagram and that he was looking forward to meeting her and talk about the future..whatwhatwhat? She had to re-read that last line to make absolutely sure she didn't read that wrong. Oh god, should I actually go? I don't know anyone there and going over there alone, stressssss..she took a deep breath, fuck it Harper, just go, you get this one big shot to get your work exposed so what if you're alone? Do you really want to spend christmas eve on your own again with chinese take away? Or do you put on a nice dress and get yourself out there and be around colleagues and kindred spirits? You'll meet new people, it'll be a start to move on, move away from everything that had happened, it's just dinner and you love to dance? She took a pen and filled out the rsvp card, licked the envelope, OMG I actually have plans for christmas now..she pushed herself off her chair and crawled on her scaffolding, let's finish this baby, she grinned for the first in a long time, strange how a stupid thing like an invitation could actually put the light on again.

Jared stood in front of the mirror fidgeting with that stupid bow tie, “Jared? You ready? The car is waiting” Shayla hammered on the door, sighing he walked over and yanked it open, “I would be if you would fix this bloody thing around my neck” he growled at her. Rolling her eyes she pushed him back inside the room and slowly started to tie the fabric in the right way, plucking it a little “there, you look..really handsome” as she admired her work. “Thanks” he whispered, but he knew she was lying when he looked in the mirror again, his long hair was tied back in a low messy bun and he was wearing a designer tux and on the outside none of this pain and heartache was visible except for a few extra lines on his face, but inside..he felt so empty and broken. Come on, you can do this, it's just dinner and a party, the usual small talk with friends and people he vaguely remembered from last year, pretending to be happy and alright..it's just a couple of hours, not the rest of your life. He buttoned up his jacket and nodded “let's go” before he followed her out of the room, outside it had started snowing really hard and still this big city was as loud and buzzing as ever, an umbrella was popped open above his head and he was escorted to the waiting car. Harper stood in front of the huge window and saw the cab pull up in front of her building, ok, have I got everything, purse, phone for calling a cab later on, money, credit card, cigarettes, all there, she closed her purse, quickly checked her outfit and ran out the door.

[mcuspidey-archive]

Shatter Me [T.H.]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes love just isn’t enough.

Word Count: 2k+

Warning: Smut like riGHT AWAY, angst, heartbreak, cursing, and this might hurt like a lot i’m sorry

A/N: My submission for @hollandroos writing challenge! It’s taken me weeks to finally get it right and I just really hope you all enjoy it. I’m currently crying because it’s taken so much out of me, as I’ve been through something similar and I couldn’t wait to get it posted. PLEASE give any kind of feedback okay? Whether it’s good or bad, it all means the world to me 🖤 /also I have never written smut before so just go with it/

The beginning is a flashback and the prompt is bolded.

❀✿ ・゜゜・．＊* ・゜゜・．❀✿ 

Heated, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the freezing rain. Tom’s arms dared you to get closer as they snake around your waist. Your hands run frantically through the little curls on the back of his neck while his palms traveled to your cheeks, their warmth instantly lighting a fire on the skin as he moved his thumb across your jawline. Your feet stumbled together as he guides you inside, barely making sure the door shut behind him before pushing you against the wall. Every breath was being taken by rushed lips and your eager hands roamed anywhere they could reach. He stopped, taking a second to marvel at your features and a few leftover raindrops rolled down his fingers as he wipes a strand of hair away from your face. 

Fuck, you’re so beautiful. He needed to see all the color in your eyes and the fire that still burned under them.

God, he is so sexy. His soaking wet curls were now slicked down and you craved the smirk that he always wore whenever he looked at you with those chocolate eyes.

You bite your bottom lip, breath hitched because he found the vulnerable spot on your neck that he knew so well. He kissed sweetly at first but the sweet turns sour with every nibble and suck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, darling,” Tom’s muffled words against the fragile spot sent chills up your spine while his fingers dug into the bare skin that peeked where your dress had ridden up. He leans back to see your reaction as he moved them farther up and you arch your back, enjoying every teasing touch. You don’t have to miss the feeling of his lips for long, though. He went back to work at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses across your collarbone. He pulls your dress down just enough to continue over the thin lace of your bra. Then, gravitates just below your waistline and lets the fabric cover him like a blanket as he disappeared underneath. His lips pressed on the inside of your thigh so close to your heat make your knees buckle and shake and you grip the curly waves below you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands make a home on the back of your legs as he picks you up fast and effortless. With the cold wall against your back and Tom like a furnace around you, you hook your ankles behind him. His lips finally crashed into yours again but you accidentally bump noses. The uncontrollable giggles and laughter slow the pace, replacing the urgent lust with patient love.

He carries you to your shared bedroom and you slide down his body to sit on the edge in front of him. He leans his head down, cups your face and leaves the softest peck at the corner of your mouth. You smile and break away, climbing back on the bed wearing the cutest grin he’s ever seen, waiting for him to follow.

He can’t believe how lucky he is. He stared down at all your beautiful curves, knowing each and every one like the back of his hand. Like back, winding roads that he never wanted to stop exploring.

You stare up at him, letting your eyes wander from his pretty face and strong arms. To his torso that the white, and still partially wet, t-shirt showed off so damn well and then back up. Because he was smiling and there’s a sparkle in his coffee eyes that you never wanted to stop getting lost in.

“I’m gonna run a bath for us. Just come in when you’re ready, baby,” he winked, disappearing behind the ensuite door. Your heart is so filled with love for him, a comfortable warm now compared to the blazing heat that he had built up inside you minutes ago. You get up off the bed, set on being in his arms again as soon as possible so as you feel the cold tile floor and the thick mist surround you, you don’t waste any time. He eyed you, once again studying your figure as you slip your arms out of the dress and let it fall. “Like what you see, Holland?”

“I love what I see. Now get in here so I can show you how much,” escaped from his perfect lips and the corners turning up were all the invitation you needed.

You slowly put one foot followed by the other into the hot, soapy tub. Tom extends his arms and lets you make yourself at home against his bare chest. His fingers instantly start to play across your back and he swipes your hair to the side so he could better nip at your neck. With your head against his shoulder and your eyes closing slightly, he started exploring again. Across your waist and down your hips. Over your thighs and back up. He touched everywhere but where you needed him the most and you were getting impatient. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers before you position it between your legs. His knowing grin tattooed itself on your skin and his sly chuckle in your ear made you shiver. You moan when his fingers meet the aching nub, reacting more as the circles he was massaging against your clit got faster. He stopped and his index finger dipped down between your slit but never enters.

“Let me see you, love.” The honey texture of his voice is enough to make you tremble. Enough to shatter you into a million tiny pieces that all belonged to him. Within seconds you’re turned around in his lap and his dick fills you slowly as you inch all the way down, grinding against his hips. You thrust up and down as his hands grabbed and pulled at your waist. Your fingers smooth over the contours of his chest and you hug him tight, kissing his shoulders until both of you reach and ride out your highs between whispered ‘I love yous’ and racing heartbeats.

Now he’s looking at you like you’re a masterpiece with your hair a mess and wet, glistening skin. A fucking beautiful piece of art that he could admire forever.

Your palm rests over his pounding heart that matched yours exactly, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

❀✿ ・゜゜・．＊* ・゜゜・．❀✿ 

The thing about masterpieces though…

They’re not always beautiful.

They can be torn at the edges and falling apart. They can be left shattered and broken and begging for attention.

You sit back against the couch cushions, looking for any kind of distraction as another hour passes, shaking your head at the text still visible on the screen in your hand.

Had to stay later. I’ll make it up to you.

You throw your phone to the side, feeling absolutely pathetic. Tom’s excuses were always the same and you knew getting angry or upset would be a waste. You should just be used to it by now right?

Wrong. You were furious.

You know how hard he’d been working and god, you were so proud of him. But it was like you don’t even matter anymore. It had been weeks since you last saw that smile and you were getting tired of searching for the spark that just wasn’t there. All you saw now were dark, almost black, pools that seemed to look right through you. Like you were no longer art but a ghost that begged for anyone to see it.

You were so tired of waiting and just tired in general and you guessed you’d fallen asleep. It was almost 2am before he finally walked through the door. His keys rattling and steady footsteps on the wood floor caused you to stir though you wished it hadn’t. You weren’t ready for this. You wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms. To let him relax after a long day but you couldn’t. Because somewhere between those whispered three words, you lost him and dammit you needed to know why.

“Hey,” his tainted voice cuts you like a knife and it takes everything in you not to break. Not yet.

“What was it this time?” Your question thick with accusation, adding to the heavy tension between you. “A new role? Some late-night talk show? Maybe that bar down the street?”

He was quiet, listening to you intently but still looking at you with empty eyes. He wasn’t drunk. In fact, you don’t even remember the last time he drank so you knew it was unfair. But you’ve felt so alone for the past month, even when he was right beside you, and you couldn’t stop the bitter words from escaping. “Is that it? Because you sure as hell haven’t been here.”

“Dammit, Y/N. I’m here now. What do you want from me?” Tom yelled and you could tell by the way his figure shook with every breath that he was pissed. He took a step closer, willing you to give in. Maybe he didn’t need this right now but you didn’t care. Because you knew that it would be a nightmare if you dragged this out any longer and you weren’t sure if your already battered heart could take much more.

“I-I want you to be home more than 3 hours a day, Tom. I want you to look at me like you still love me. Like you used to. I want you to hold me after long days and fall asleep with you instead of worrying if you make it home. I want to know what happened to us…” you trail off, your glassy eyes spill over and he reaches to wipe away the stains. You turn away but your cheek is still pressed against his palm.

“I don’t know.” Tom’s broken whisper the only sound for what seemed like hours instead of a few seconds. He leaned against the narrow hallway, trying to look away from the pictures scattered across the wall. They were all different but all had one undeniable thing in common. The two of you at the Far From Home premiere, his arm around you as the cameras flashed. Last Halloween when you dressed up as Spider-Man to surprise him. A selfie, snow fell all around you and he’s holding you tight to keep warm. You were happy.

You sigh, frustrated and exhausted. “Tell me honestly right now, do you still want me? Because if not... I can leave.” And finally let yourself fall apart. Let yourself break and bend, ready to beg him to shatter you because it would hurt less than the silence. You look up through your dark lashes. He’s still perched against the wall and his head is down. The long brown curls tousled from his hands constantly running through them, rested on his forehead. He slides down and buries his face in his hands.

He was breaking, too. Your words stabbing him, lingering, and he was sure that they would haunt him forever.

You kneel down in front of him, once again looking for that hint of light behind the dark brown. Like maybe if you saw it, everything would be okay. Proof that he did still love you like he used to. But it was long gone.

“I’m s-sorry.” Tom reached up to brush his thumb one more time across your face as a set of his own tears fell around you. He pulled you to him and you allow your lips to crash together for the last time. It hurt like hell but if this is what hell feels like, you thought, you would gladly do it all again.

“I do love you, Y/N. It’s just- ”

“Not enough.” You finish and shake your head lightly, forcing a small smile to let him know it was okay. That you would be okay… eventually.

Because he was still warm and he still knew about that small spot that his hand now rested at and he was still beautiful, even with tired eyes and a shattered heart.

He still thought you were a masterpiece. Maybe broken but flawless as ever and as he held you, he realized that maybe he wouldn’t be able to admire you forever…

But a masterpiece is still a masterpiece, whether it’s being admired or not.

Taglist: @hazsterfield @badhollandfluff @booksaremylife602 @yeeterbenjaminparker @starlightfound @holldnx @tomshufflepuff @jade7he9em @death_by_viola

Mutual Tagging: @tomhollandeu @starksparker @thelazypangolin @moonkissedtom @spiderrrling @spiderboytotherescue @petalparker @fratboievans @dtftomholland @prkerspeter @madmadmilk

[luminousinthedark]

Tomber Amoureux (To Fall in Love)

SURPRISE!! I was your Secret Santa @hari-writes!!! I have yet to read your stories but I will get there eventually (and when I do, get ready for a load of kudos and comments >:3). There is no doubt though you are a fantastic writer. Just by seeing the summaries on your stories, I feel excited to read them. I hope the fic I wrote for you is alright and you enjoyed reading it :D. Have a Miraculous Christmas!!  

@mlsecretsanta

This story can also be read on Ao3

Adrien Agreste was a successful man.

Just like his father shaped him to be, he was perfect, without any flaws, and very articulate with how the business at Gabriel fashions ran. Everyone who met him treated him exactly as they would his father, usually commenting on how he was almost like a spitting image with his hair jelled back and sporting a somewhat stoic demeanor. However, a couple differences were that his hair was a little longer and his eyes stood out as a vibrant green, showing a softer side to him. At the age of twenty three, he had no close friends and didn’t mind keeping it that way.

Everything in his life went smoothly and gracefully, just how he liked it.

That is until a certain someone literally crashed into his life.

“Oof!” Adrien’s breath was knocked out of him when a small body collided with his, causing them both to tumble onto the cold ground. He laid there dazed, looking up at the sunny, clear blue winter sky through his sunglasses.

“I am so sorry!” A sweet voice exclaimed next to him.

There was the scuffling sound of someone scrambling up, and before he knew it, his coat was being grabbed and he was hoisted to his feet.

Clearing his throat and wiping off the dirt on his black clothes, he replied curtly. “It’s fine.”

“I’m still very sorry! I was rushing because I’m going to be late to my first day of work and I didn’t see you there before it was too late and I hope you’re okay-,” the voice rambled on.

Adrien sighed and finally glanced up. “Look it’s not a problem…,” his firm words died out as he was struck by the beauty of the woman before him.

With dark hair that shone blue in the light of the sun cascading down her shoulders, pink lips pursed in worry, and eyebrows scrunched together, she was a site to behold. Her red pea coat was ruffled and slightly dirty while the black tights on one of her legs had been torn near the knee above red heeled ankle boots. The most stunning of all however were her cerulean blue eyes peering into his, concern swimming in the deep pools.

A weird sensation started swirling in his gut, one that was foreign to him.

Swallowing, Adrien tried to find his voice again but she beat him to it.

“Oh! You’ve got some dirt on your face,” the woman stepped close to him and reached up to swipe her thumb across his cheek. Pleasant tingles erupted where her skin touched his.

He was speechless. Where were these weird feelings coming from and why? He’s never felt this way before. Soon he could feel the telltale signs of an uncommon blush heating up his face.

“Monsieur, are you okay? You got really red all of a sudden,” she unwound an emerald green scarf from around her neck he hadn’t noticed before until now. “Here, for all the trouble I’ve caused you I’d like you to have one of my creations.” With that, she wrapped the warm scarf around his neck with care and stepped back to send him a sweet smile.

Now his heart was doing somersaults in his chest and it was getting harder to breathe. He could only manage to get out a whispered, “thank you,” before those blue eyes went wide with shock as she looked over his shoulder.

“Is that the time?! Son of a biscuit I’m late!” she darted around him and started sprinting down the sidewalk towards the building he just came from.

Delicately, he rubbed the soft material of the scarf between his fingers, a toothy smile peeking out between his lips. Then shaking his head, he willed the emotions away and continued on his journey to the café across the street to have his lunch. He was a gentleman first and foremost, so he was not going to let his thoughts and feelings overcome him just because a stranger showed him some love he was desperately deprived of.

A gorgeous woman like her probably already had someone anyway.   

 A few days later, Adrien was walking on his way to work past a photo shoot in the park when he heard his name being called. Turning around at the familiar voice, he smiled politely on reflex at his old photographer Vincent.

“Señor Adrien! How long it’s been!” Vincent shouted cheerfully, hastily making his way over to him.

Adrien chuckled. “It has been a while. How’s life?”

“Mi fa cagare!” The man swore in Italian as his hands flew up in the air. “Your father wanted pictures of the new young romance perfume but the main model Richard just called and cancelled!” He gestured to the completed set up behind him. “Everything is ready but no model! All the backup models are busy and I can’t get a hold of anyone to help!”

Adrien observed the frazzled photographer for another moment then resolutely gave in. Taking a deep breath full of possible regret and letting it out heavily, he put a calming hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “I’ll be your model.”

Vincent beamed with his grin positively radiant, along with something else. “Grazie Adrien! I am in your debt.”

Holding up a finger, Adrien gave him a stern look. “Only this one time though. I am not going back to modeling as a full time job again, so don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

“Bien sûr, of course.” Nodding his head in approval, Vincent turned around and immediately started shouting orders to the crew members.

Moving along after him, Adrien left Nathalie a voicemail of his whereabouts and plans then was soon swept up into the organized chaos. He didn’t pay much attention to anything around him; instead, he went with the motions of once more being a living doll. Before he knew it, he was dressed and all done up in makeup, sitting languidly on the freezing lip of an empty fountain. The white overcoat fit him nicely, paired with whitewashed blue jeans, black leather boots, and a grey beanie snuggled onto his normal hairstyle.

He poised how he remembered before he quit the modeling gig a few years back. It felt kind of awkward at first, but soon he was into the old rhythm again and completed each new shot with ease.

But apparently to his photographer, it wasn’t good enough.

With a humming noise of disapproval, Vincent gazed at the pictures in deep thought.

“This isn’t quite right,” he muttered under his breath and clicked his tongue.

“Am I doing anything wrong?” Adrien asked.

Vincent paused. “…no. It’s just…something is missing.” With a snap of his fingers, he bellowed, “Dupain-Cheng!”

There was a flurry of footsteps then Adrien’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the mystery woman approaching them. All he could do was stare while she stood with assurance in her pink trench coat adorned with a blue scarf around her neck next to Vincent.

“What is it Monsieur?” she asked politely.

“You’re the newest intern are you not?” he inquired. After the nod of her head, he continued. “With your fresh eyes, tell me, what would you do to make this more romantic, more appealing?”

Adrien was puzzled. From what he knew of Vincent, he never asked someone for another opinion or tips, especially from a new intern. Father wouldn’t be pleased either if he found out.

While she studied the photos on the camera, Adrien caught Vincent’s eye and noticed a mischievous twinkle in them. He was instantly put on high alert.

“Well,” she began, “I would probably leave the main outfit be but I’d make a few changes in accessories.”

Vincent made a show of his hands towards Adrien. “Show me what you would do then Mademoiselle.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes and shot a glare at his photographer as she stepped up to him. The stern look was instantly wiped from him however when she pulled off his beanie and began ruffling his hair. The carefully coifed strands were now falling freely around his face while he gazed at her in awe. After she stepped back, he could still feel the tingling of her fingers in his hair and a shiver went up his spine.

Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

By just one slight change to his appearance that he had kept up for years, Adrien felt different. It was as though he was freed from something, making him feel extremely light.

Warmth bloomed and spread in his chest.

Clueless to her life changing actions, the intern unwound the blue scarf from her neck and wrapped it neatly around his. Staring at her intently and swallowing hard, Adrien was reminded of her kindness from a few days ago and desperately tried to squash down the rising emotions he has spent years repressing.

When she moved back from him and that sincere smile appeared on her face again, he saw his mother’s smile and instantly knew he was falling for this woman fast.

“How does that look Monsieur?” her question brought him out of his trance. Adrien blinked to clear his vision in time to see his fully smirking photographer.

“Si! Perfecto!” Vincent clapped, overjoyed with the scene. “Is there anything else?”

Adrien refused to meet her observing eyes and studied the ground instead. Why was he shy all of a sudden? He’s an Agreste! These emotions shouldn’t be slipping out of his control. Yet even so, he could tell a blush was forming on his cheeks from the sensation of heat prickling along his skin.

She hummed. “If you’re going for a romantic vibe, the next best way to capture it is to find someone to be in the shots with him.”

There was a brief period of silence.

“You are absolutely right,” Adrien could hear the satisfaction in Vincent’s voice. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anyone who could fill in at the moment. Would you be willing to do it?”

So that was his plan all along.

Sly, scheming photographers.

“M-me?!” She spluttered. He glanced up to see her eyes blown wide. “I’m not…this isn’t something I’m cut out for.”

“What do you mean?” Adrien interrupted, his shyness disappearing as he rose from the fountain to look down at her.  

Waving her hands around, she gave him a flustered look. “My job is to be behind the camera, not in front of it!” she squeaked.

“But can you do it differently this one time?” he pleaded.

“No!”

Adrien furrowed his brows in thought. Well, there is one of two ways he could influence her to help. By encouraging, or teasing.

He chose the latter.

A grin gradually began to appear on his face as he leaned in. “Aww…” he crooned. “Is someone camera shy?”  

Her cheeks went bright red. “I…I am not camera shy.”

“Prove it.”

A steely glint showed up in her eyes suddenly as she leaned in as well and poked him in the chest.

His heart stuttered in response.

“You know what? I will.” She stated with such confidence, his brain lost all ability to function. “Watch me, pretty boy.”

Vincent laughed joyfully behind them.

Adrien smiled in pure bliss at the camera pointed towards them.

If future photo shoots will be more like this, scratch what he said earlier and sign him up for the next one.

After the woman had agreed, she was briefly whisked away to change into Gabriel brand clothes and have her makeup done. When she emerged from the tent, she had successfully stolen the very breath from his lungs with the belted black wrap coat fit snugly to her body, a light pink cashmere scarf around her neck to match his, and white suede boots over dark blue skinny jeans. Makeup natural and light, she looked stunning.

Now here they were sitting next to each other, knees touching, on the edge of the fountain and Adrien couldn’t be happier.

Well, he could think of one reason how he could be happier but it probably wasn’t going to happen.

“Okay, now face one another and flirt,” Vincent ordered.

Adrien effortlessly composed himself into the suave persona everyone loved. Turning to her with a smirk now in place, he casually lifted up the hand in her lap to give her knuckles a whisper of a kiss. He was delighted to see a splash of red grow across her cheeks.

“I never did get your first name my Lady?” Adrien questioned as he set her hand down and gently grabbed the other to hold between them.

Suddenly appearing bold, she leaned towards him with a playful quirk on her lips, “That’s a secret Monsieur.”

His eyebrow rose. “I could easily find out…”

“If you do that, I won’t have any reason to trust you.”

“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll wait for you to tell me yourself. In the meantime, I’ll give you cute nicknames, Buginette.”

“Really,” she deadpanned.

They were so caught up in each other, the sounds of Vincent’s camera clicking faded into the rest of the background noise.

It was just the two of them.

“Yeah,” Adrien continued, “When I first saw you a few days ago, you reminded me of a ladybug.”

She blinked, and then narrowed her eyes to scrutinize him. “Have we met before?”

He gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks for the green scarf. It’s quite comfy.”

Eyes widening in realization, her mouth popped open as well. “Oh my goodness that was you!”

Adrien started chuckling at her baffled expression.

“Cat man!”

He abruptly stopped and gave her a confused look. “Cat man..?”

“Yes!” she laughed in disbelief. “You had those sunglasses on that were Cat Eye styled.” Shaking her head, she gave him a wide, pearly white smile that did things to his poor heart. “I felt bad for knocking you over but after seeing those I didn’t feel as horrible.”

Adrien gasped in mock offense and put a hand on his chest. “Come on those are vintage! Don’t insult my Cat Eyes.”

“Alright Chaton don’t get your tail in a twist,” she said rolling her eyes fondly.

He spluttered. “I am not a kitten! I am a man!”

“Keep telling yourself that Minou.”

Pouting, Adrien muttered, “I’m supposed to give you nicknames...”

Reaching up, she tapped a finger to his nose, effectively causing his body to shut down. “Two can play at that game Chat.”

“Alright we have enough flirt!” Vincent cut in loudly, causing the two of them to jump and crash land back to reality. “These photos are magnifique!” His photographer gushed while he flipped through them.

“Does that mean we’re done?” The woman asked as she twisted her hands together.

“Nope!” Vincent got back into position in front of them. “Now it’s time for the kissing!”

Adrien’s insides gave a jolt then he watched her face go pale. “What?” she screeched.

Waving his hands in a shooing motion, Vincent replied impatiently, “We need smooching then we’re done!”

She seemed visibly uncomfortable with the notion so Adrien shoved his nerves and excitement aside and placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her and face him. “Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said soothingly.

Pursing her lips, she looked down for a moment then peered up at him through her lashes.

Was she trying to kill him?

“I…guess I can go through with it,” she said uncertainly.

Adrien brightened with glee. “That’s the spirit! And hey, at least you get to kiss this handsome face!” He pointed to himself.

Oh god why did he say that?

She giggled then pretended to search around him. “I don’t know…you might have gotten yourself mixed up with someone else.”

Gasping, he put both hands over his heart and feigned a look of pain. “OH! You killed my ego! Now only a true loves kiss could bring me back to life!” he wailed dramatically.

He watched with satisfaction as she laughed and shook her head. “You’re such a cheesy goofball! Okay, fine come here.”

They both leaned in and the silliness was quick to wash away. It felt to Adrien as though a gravitational pull was bringing the two of them together. With each millisecond that went by, Adrien’s heart beat faster in anticipation, threatening to break out of his chest. His eyes drifted shut, then the next thing he knew his lips landed on hers.

Soft.

That was the first thing to register in his mind. Then oh so tenderly, he began to move his lips, prompting her to do the same. Lifting a hand up, he cradled her jaw and angled it slightly to deepen the kiss. The warmth he felt in his chest grew and he relished in the feeling as he tasted her strawberry flavored lip gloss. He gave a nibble on her lower lip and she made a sound in the back of her throat, making him hum with delight.

All too soon they were pulling away, and he opened his eyes to see her reddened lips before peering into her blue irises. They were locked onto his, eagerly waiting for his next move. Once again, he began inching closer to those tantalizing lips…

“And that’s a wrap!” The annoying voice of his photographer shouted excitedly, breaking the magic surrounding them.

Adrien sighed in disappointment as she got up and straightened out her coat.

Vincent walked over to her and gave a pat on her shoulder. “You did great Chérie! A true natural!”

She looked down bashfully and gave out a quiet, “Merci,” then started walking away towards the changing rooms without glancing back.

Feeling the heavy dread of possibly never seeing the mystery woman again, Adrien shot up off the fountain ignoring Vincent’s praises and jogged towards her.

“Wait!” he called out.

She stopped and turned to look at him.

He came to a halt a few feet from her.

It was as though Adrien forgot the French language because he had so much he wanted to say and ask but he didn’t know where to start. He opened his mouth then realized it was snowing around them. For a moment, he watched as the small flakes gathered on her dark hair and black coat, making her appear like the ethereal beauty of the moon shining in the starry night sky.

He didn’t even know her name and he was completely smitten.

“Yes?” she asked, bringing him out of his stupor.    

Clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness, he asked, “Will we meet again my Lady?”

She broke out that wonderful smile again and winked at him.

“We’ll see, Chaton.”

[lufancy]

Service II (M)

pt 1

Summary: Issa smut with no plot - again, and B is a bit of a hoe, again. Genre: smut A/N: Not a smut writer (disclaimer). I lied guys. I said no pt2, and then you people got me thinking what the hell could I do to follow the 1st one up. And this came to life. Idk. Not edited - yet. Yeah this is r18+ stuff.

If it wouldn’t have been for that damned NDA Elyxion made you sign you would have blabbed your mouth to everyone within a 10-mile radius. Containing your excitement over the night you spent with EXO’s Byun Baekhyun was torture. You felt like you could burst anytime but then you reminded yourself you’d face legal violation of the contract. And you remember seeing what would happen if you’d break the NDA. Let’s just say you don’t have that kind of money.

It didn’t help that Baekhyun’s face was literally everywhere. His face on TV screens everywhere in Korea, his voice booming through the speakers in shops, and his posters plastered everywhere.

You can’t look at him. Can’t hear his voice. Don’t want to see him. Because all of it reminds you of his lips as he put them against you, those eyes that could freeze you in your spot, his voice as he groaned while fucking you deep inside-

“Are you sick?” Your colleague sitting opposite of you was watching you. Shit. Did you say anything allowed?

You try so hard not to eye-roll. “Nope. Fine.”

“You look a little hot. Are you having a fever or something?” You blinked and touched your cheeks to see if they were indeed hot. Stupid Byun Baekhyun. Stupid NDA. Stupid Elyxion. You were losing your mind. “Maybe you should ask to go home.”

Maybe you should stop bothering me. She has been after your job and you know it. “Maybe,” you ignore her for the rest of the day and went on with your paperwork.

Elyxion was a company of torture. You were sure of it. Who does that? Invite you to have sex with a celebrity, something everyone would say yes to right? And then have you act like it never happened. They’re cunning, you think. You can’t even reach out to said celebrity. He is unattainable and if millions of fans can’t even get in touch with him, how in the hell are you ever going to contact him? What would you even say?

Hello! This is the girl sent by Elyxion so you could fuck her. I had a good time! Want to grab coffee sometime?

That sounds ridiculous. Absolutely absurd and slightly psychotic. Maybe, just maybe, you were psychotic. You felt like a psycho. Obsessing over someone who could probably get a girl inside his bed with the snap of his fingers. You’d rather not think about him like that. But then again. How much do you know about him? Well, you have seen him naked and you know he is very good at-

Nope. Not the moment to act like a pervert.

But maybe... it wasn’t a bad idea to try to reach out to him. How big is the chance he’ll even read it? You open Instagram and immediately land on the trending page. Where yup you see his face. You curse and immediately swipe away and tick his name in. Then you start typing to him in DM’s.

Hey! This is the girl from...

You quickly delete the message... you can’t write that! Instead, you hope that by sending him one word will be enough.

Elyxion

Okay. This should do it, right? No one ever knows which celebrities use Elyxion’s services. 

After work, you carry your tired form to the nearest pub. You check your DM’s and open the one to Baekhyun. Nothing. He hasn’t even seen it and it’s already some hours ago. This was a dumb idea.

You order yourself a drink. Your mind drifts to the night you spent with Baekhyun and wonder about the drink he gave you. Its obviously impossible to ask him what that was but you can’t help but wonder.

The bartender slides you a drink and you look up to see him smile. Your heart skips a beat. “I... didn’t order this?” And you hold up your current drink, showing him you were still drinking.

“A gentleman ordered this for you.”

“What gentleman?”

“He left.” Baekhyun maybe? Elyxion? You shake the thought. It could actually be some creep. But why would he buy you a drink and leave?

“Did he say anything before he left?”

“Nope.” The bartender leaves to help another customer.

You stare at the glass. It looks exactly like whatever Baekhyun had given you that night. And when you take a sip...

It’s that drink again. Thick. Bitter-ish and that full flavor.

You look around but there is no one who could even remotely look like Baekhyun. You drown your own drink first, and then the one that this mystery person gave you. You twirl the ice inside the glass and it clinks against the glass like you remember so vividly from that night. You watch the ice move...

And that is when you see it.

On the bottom of the glass, you see a black hexagon with a drawing of a tree inside of it. That familiar Elyxion logo you found on the invitation. What the...

You look around once more and there is still no one who could even look like the handsome celebrity you are looking for. So you go outside - and god is it cold outside the wind feels almost like a storm. Scan the street for someone who could be Baekhyun. But once again. No one. Is this a game Elyxion is playing on you? 

Maybe it’s you. Maybe you just suck at finding him because mind you, you practically threw two drinks back on a half-empty stomach.

Your back hits the wall of the pub you were just in. You wrap your coat tighter around you and think to yourself it might be better to give up. Maybe you should just accept the fact that Elyxion and Baekhyun are going to hunt you forever. You let out a breath and watch fumes dance up to the sky.

The last thing you can come up with is that there is another self-driving fancy car waiting here for you. But even that isn’t here. What now? While scanning for the cars you start to notice something on a black hummer right in front of you.

Someone drew a tree on the fogged window. The Elyxion logo? Its nothing as artistic as the Elyxion logo but who in the world would draw a tree instead of something like a penis to be funny? You walk closer to the car and the door suddenly cracks opens. You open it enough to look inside and there he is...

The same Byun Baekhyun who you see on TV, on posters and what not. The same Byun Baekhyun who was wearing silk robes and fucked you so badly you can’t get him out of your head.

“Hi.” He looks up. Baekhyun is wearing a blue cap and a black hoodie that says Privé. You are just as baffled as the first time you saw him.

You can’t even reply.

He looks a little giddy but happy. “So... please get in.” He smiles. And you do.

You really don’t know what to say.

Luckily, Baekhyun does the talking. “It took me a little while to find you but errr... I wanted to say I’m not exactly the ‘I’m gone the next morning - bye’ kind of guy.”

You finally look at him. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

He looks nervous. Byun Baekhyun! Nervous! The guy who was so smooth and looked like he had his shit together was nervous. What a sight. Then again this is slightly awkward. “No.” He says firmly. “I was wondering... if you’d be in for a second round?”

Yes! Are you kidding me?! A million times yes! God! “Yeah.. yeah I’d be up for that.”

“Good,” the side of his mouth curls and he starts the engine. The drive is short and he pulls up in some, once again, impressive mansion-villa-palace-ish place.

He doesn’t get out when he turns the engine off. “First, I gotta make sure that you understand what this means. What we’re about to do is against Elyxion’s policy and we could face some trouble going against their rules.” You nodded along with every word. “Are you sure you still want to continue?” You nod once last time. And he looks pleased. “My girl.”

He leads you inside and your hands are itching. You want to touch him. Kiss him. Have him. But he takes it slow. Asking you if you want something to drink - yes you do because you’re so nervous - takes your coat. Sits you down. Chats to you a bit as if you were just a friend.

His house is beautiful. Well, you think it's his house. It is huge and there is a big picture of him and his members across the hall. You wonder if they live here too...

He hands you your drink and this time it is not the same. This is a fruity wine. Perfect for dessert. He leads you upstairs, where you get an answer to your question. Two tall guys you recognize as Sehun and Kai are standing in the doorway to someone’s room. They don’t look very happy.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Sehun curses and you quickly go from uncomfortable but okay toI’m-not-sure-if-I-should-be-here. Kai has his arms folded and there is a big frown on his face. Both guys ease up when they notice you and Baekhyun. “Hyung!”

“Hey, kids.” You internally laugh. You know Baekhyun is older because Kai and Sehun are often called Korea’s golden Maknae’s, but both men are a head taller than Baekhyun and look overall more mature. You are totally keeping that to yourself though.

“Tell Jongin he is an idiot. He is going to jeopardize this whole thing for us if he keeps you know up.” You’re pretty sure he called whatever you know is, you know because of you.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Tell Sehun he should mind his own damn business.” 

“Kids,” Baekhyun coughs. “I’m a little... preoccupied?” He motions to you with his head. Then leads you away from the quarreling two. “Sorry about that.” He grins and you shake your head.

“It's okay. They seem nice.” You’re honestly joking. They look intimidating.

“Yeah? Maybe you can ask them to join.” He’s joking - you hope. 

His room is very different from the place you met him. That place felt like you landed in Castille de Versailles like a fantasy. His room is modern. Minimalistic. Yet very... Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun owns a piano... in his room and it is the most eye-catching thing in the room. Right after comes the various posters he has framed and sitting against the wall. “Do you play?”

You shake your head. But walk toward it anyway. “The only thing I can play is the first ten seconds of Linkin Park’s In The End.” This doesn’t seem to ring a bell for him.

“Can I play you something?” He puts his whiskey and your wine on the piano.

“Yes, of course.”

You watch his fingers dance on the keys. It’s a feel-good mellow song. This is great, you can admire his face without looking like a total creep. But then he starts singing. “Tonight, looking at the moon...”

Every breath is knocked out of you. He looks immersed into his own song and it is admirable to watch someone so passionate play. “Good?” He grins boyishly.

“Amazing...”

He hums, “Not the only thing I’m good at.”

“Show me what else you’re good at.” He raises his eyebrows playfully as to say ‘well, well, well aren’t you naughty?’

He removes his hoodie over his head, and you’re slightly disappointed when there is a white shirt underneath. You’re not sure what he is doing until he wraps the hoodie around you and pulls you closer by tugging the sleeves. 

His eyes run over your face, and you blink. The tension he is creating is too thick. When he finally puts his lips on yours, you might as well stop breathing. Your body turns hot when he gently slips his tongue into your mouth.

God is probably rooting for you because you’re making out with Byun Baekhyun. Again!

The kiss is outrageously dirty, it’s wetter than the first time you made out with him. It’s longer, there is more movement and he is definitely more handsy. His hand is on yours and pulls it to put it on his hard-on. He is still clothed but thinking about it… just…

You try to be bold, and use your thumb to put pressure. Baekhyun hisses and breaks the kiss momentarily to catch his breath, then continues kissing you on the lips.

Then you do it again, but this time with your entire hand and you can feel him shake in anticipation. Your other hand sneaks up under his shirt. You try to get a reaction out of him again, but this time there is no big reaction. So you break away from the kiss and use both hands to remove his shirt. Then, you remove yours. This time it's him who lies down on the stool and you manage to slip his jeans all the way to his knees. He is looking at you with anticipation and he slides his own boxers out, watching your eyes watching him. His member springs free.

“Will you help me out here?” He asks slyly and you nod. You lean over and wrap one hand around his member like he grabs one fistful of your hair. You start at his tip. Pecking it teasingly with your lips and you can tell how much it affects him by the way he hisses. Your mouth is slightly dirty with his precum and you lick it up. “Fuck that’s hot.”

Your confidence shoots through the roof as the Byun Baekhyun says he thinks what you’re doing is hot. Your hand starts pumping him up and down while your other is rubbing his leg. Then you take his tip into your mouth, giving it some pressure by sucking on it. Then slowly continue to take more into your mouth. He hisses and praises you. When you’re at the point of taking all of him in you think he might cum by the way he is pulling your head up and down and chanting your name.

That is... until there is a loud knock on the door.

A/N: Wasnt feeling sexy, definitely came thru.

[waywardrose13]

The Hunter Diaries- Chapter Nine

Series Masterlist

Rose’s Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, language, implications of sex, brief makeout

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester had been your best friends for as long as you could remember. Being Bobby Singer’s adoptive daughter, it was sort of inevitable to know the brothers. You knew you’ve had a crush on the elder brother for a long time, but you always thought nothing would happen between the two of you. You’re not the picture perfect model and you aren’t the image every girl strives to be. But maybe, just maybe, you were wrong, and he would like you too. But could your happy ending be cut short?

SERIES TAGS, CHARACTER TAGS, FOREVER TAGS, FLUFF BINGO/ANGST BINGO TAGS ARE OPEN. SEND ME AN ASK!

*PLEASE EXCUSE ANY AND ALL GRAMMAR MISTAKES*

Your fingers trace small circles on Dean’s chest, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder as his hand ran up and down your bare back.

The two of you had been in that position for a while. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was calming, reminding you that the both of you were alive and in that small moment, everything was truly alright. You wished you could freeze that moment. You wished the two of you could stay in that small fraction of time for eternity. Not having to worry about Aamon or angels or the threat of the apocalypse. Just the two of you, laying with each other with nothing but a blanket between you, basking in each other.

But you knew that it couldn't be a reality. Those threats were still out there, looming over your head like a dark storm cloud. Even with all the distracting Dean had just done, you still had to face it when you came back to reality.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. Your eyes flitted up to his, a soft smile on your face.

“You.” He made a light sound, his fingers running up to thread through your hair. You kissed his bare chest and snuggled closer to him, the small blanket not quite fitting around the both of you, and you shivered at the cool air.

“You know, I never thought you liked me back,” He said. You scoffed and rolled onto your stomach, your arm coming up to rest on his chest and play with the amulet around his neck.

“I never thought you liked me back,” You said. “You were always with these… Picture perfect, model material girls. I never thought you’d want to go for someone like me. Someone not… Like that.”

“That’s idiotic, sweetheart.” He scowled. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You blushed and ducked your head down, burrowing into his chest. “I love you too.”

He sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you closer to him. You moved your head to press your face into the side of his neck, your lips pressing soft kisses on the tender skin. Your hand moved to trail down his chest, your fingers stopping right above his pelvic bone, tracing patterns along the soft skin.

He chuckled and rolled the two of you over, his hips pressing down onto you and you moaned at the feel of him. “You want a round two?”

“If you think you can handle it,” You said, a smirk playing on your lips. He growled playfully and bent down to nip at your ear.

“Oh, I can handle it, sweetheart,” He whispered into your ear. He thrusted his hips forward, his hard member bumping your bundle of nerves, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

The next day rolled around and you were left alone. You knew the boys were doing it for your own good, but you had gotten bored easily and quite frankly, you were annoyed at them for locking you down here.

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, letting out a long breath. You were currently alone in the house, Sam and Dean having gone on a quick salt and burn a few towns over and Bobby tagging along just for the fun of being out in the field again. They weren’t really worried about you since you were inside the panic room, which was supposedly the safest part of the whole house. But it was quiet and eerie, a strange feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

A loud crash from upstairs made you jump. You leaped off the bed and stayed as still as possible, tilting your head a bit and listening as closely as possible.

Your stomach rolled as butterflies fluttered around inside. Your breathing began to pick up as a few more creaks sounded above you as if someone was walking.

And then you heard it.

Someone was whistling above you, a broken tune falling past their lips as they moved around upstairs. You swallowed thickly and folded your arms around your middle, your body trembling with fear. There was someone- or something- upstairs, and it wasn’t any of the boys.

A thick feeling of dread filled your chest as the possibility of who could be up there ran through your mind. You were alone, the perfect time to show up if he was going to.

As long as you stayed in that room, you’d be fine.

At least you thought so.

You heard the loud steps of someone walking down the stairs, a light echo bouncing of the walls. You backed up and moved around the bed in the center of the room, grabbing the knife Dean had left for you off the metal desk. A loud knock sounded from the door and you took a settling breath, moving your stance into a defensive one.

“Y/N,” He said in a sing-song voice. “I know you’re in there, love.” He knocked again, a little harder and louder and suddenly the peephole was swiped open, his orange glowing eyes staring into the room, his lips curling into a demonic smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

“It’s warded,” You said. “You can’t come in here.”

“Maybe not,” He said. He closed the peephole and it was silent on the other side. You furrowed your brows and listened closely, but nothing happened.

The door burst open suddenly, the metal flying off the hinges and knocking against the bed, falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“But I can try.” He grinned. He stepped as close as he could to the threshold, his eyes scanning the room, his head nodding approvingly. “It’s very well put together, I’ve got to admit. The detail is spectacular.”

“Why do you want me?” You asked. “Why do you want me dead?” His eyes moved back to linger on you, the orange fading, leaving his crystal blue orbs. You shifted uncomfortably under his hard gaze and he smiled at you.

“It’s not that simple, love,” He said. “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you quite yet.” You took a deep breath and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What are you?”

“Now, that love, is what everyone is trying to figure out these days. I’m truly impressed you and those knuckleheads could figure it out,” He said. “All in good time, love. You’ll find out eventually.”

“Why are you even here?” You sneered. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

“How certain are you that this room can keep me out?” He asked. You swallowed thickly, not answering him, not really knowing yourself. He smirked dangerously, clasping his hands behind his back before moving his foot slowly. Carefully, he stepped over the threshold, a wince flashing across his face.

He stepped inside the room, your eyes wide with fear, your breathing picking up rapidly. His face was distorted in discomfort. He may have been able to come inside, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable or at full strength. The demon part of him reacted negatively to the sigils and wardings around the room, his other half allowing him to at least step inside.

He looked up and turned around, eyeing the room with an impressed glint in his eye, his glossy black hair rippling like waves down his back as he moved. You backed up a few steps and kept the knife out, knowing it wouldn’t do any good against the hybrid in front of you.

“Very impressive,” Aamon murmured. He took a deep breath, a shoot of pain flashing through his body. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Do what?”

“You either come with me willingly and I let your friends live. Or, you fight and lose. I still take you with me but they die a brutal, slow death,” He said, moving around the edge of the room. You moved back, keeping the wall to your backside and him always in front of you. “There’s an easy choice here, Y/N. I know which one you’ll make. But, I have to be honest with you, I hope you pick the more fun way.”

“I’m going to kill you,” You snarled. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

“No, love. I’m going to kill you. It’s just a matter of if it will be sooner rather than later. Now,-” His tone dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits, the iris’ burning orange flames within them- “What’s it gonna be?”

You looked down at the knife in your hand. You knew it was powerless against him. You couldn’t take him on your own, even if he was weakened. And you sure as hell wouldn’t let him kill your family.

You looked up at him again, tears brimming your eyes as you realized what was going to happen. Who you’d be leaving behind.

“You promise you’ll leave them alone?” You whispered. Aamon smirked at you, his head moving to give you a slow nod.

“I swear on my life.” You sniffed and set the knife down on the table, your heart breaking a bit more with each passing moment.

“Can I at least say goodbye?”

He thought for a moment and hesitated, his lips curling into a snarl. “Any funny business, they drop dead.”

“I understand.”

Three hours later, you were sitting on the couch in the sitting room, your leg bouncing furiously as the clear instructions Aamon gave you rang in your head.

You were to say your goodbyes and walk outside where he’d grab you, taking you to god knows where, but leaving the men alone. You took a deep breath, trying to take comfort in that.

He’d leave them alone.

Before Dean, you were in a dark place. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t contemplate suicide, even more so after Dean had died. Carter was your rock, and when you had to burn her on that pyre, your world shattered, the one person you could count on the most turned to a pile of ash.

But then Dean swooped down and saved you from the pit you had fallen into. He had saved you from the crawling vines of your mind. He loved and worshiped you, turning your dark world brighter, bringing hope back to you.

But everything you loved would soon be ripped away again. Dean, Bobby, Sam. You knew after today you’d most likely never see them again. You’d probably be dead by the next morning. And your heart hurt like never before at the thought of leaving Dean. The pain inside your chest was crippling as you thought of your goodbye.

You jumped when the door opened, the three men walking in together. You got up from the couch and tried to regain your composure, putting a large smile on your face.

“Hey, boys!” You greeted them.

“Birdy, what the hell are you doing out of the panic room?” Bobby asked, your heart nearly shattering when you heard your nickname. Their faces were plastered with panic, making this ten times harder.

“Um… I wanted to see you guys,” You said.

“That’s not really an excuse,” Dean said.

“I know.” You nodded. “But, I just wanted to be with you for a little bit.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” Sam asked, his face etched with worry. You gave him a smile and a nod.

“Yeah.”

Bobby shrugged and moved into the kitchen, Dean giving you a strange look but following him.

“Hey, Sam?” You said. The youngest Winchester looked up at you and raised a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Um…” You took a few steps forward. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Okay,” He said.

“Take care of Dean. Make sure he takes care of himself. I need you to make sure… I need you to make sure he’s happy. That he’s taken care of and that he doesn’t drink himself to death.”

“Um, okay. You’re scaring me, Y/N/N.”

“Just… Promise me.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah. Okay, I promise.” You nodded and moved into the kitchen, venturing forth to say goodbye to your dad.

“Hey, dad?” You said walking up to him. “Can we talk real quick?” Bobby gave Dean a look but followed you into the next room, the brothers talking in hushed whispers. You took a deep breath and gave your dad a small smile before engulfing him in a hug.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked. You pulled back, your eyes teary.

“I just… Wanna say thank you,” You said. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, birdy but I’m not sure what is going on.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I want you to know that.” You gave him a nod and moved back into the kitchen, your stomach churning at what you were about to do. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach more violently with each step.

Sam had moved past you to talk to Bobby and you grabbed Dean’s arm, bringing him out of eye and earshot, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his harshly.

His hands gripped your waist as you melted against him, your lips moving in sync as his tongue caressed your own. Your own hands had moved to the sides of his neck, your fingers running through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“What was that for?” Dean asked when he pulled away breathlessly. You bit your lip. Trying your hardest to keep the tears at bay, failing miserably. His brows furrowed in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I… I want you to know that I love you, okay?” You said, tears streaming down your face as your heart broke more with each passing moment. “You’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You saved me from myself, whether you know it or not and there are not enough thanks in the world for that. I need you to promise me, you’ll try to be happy. To fight, okay? Always keep fighting, no matter what, and remember that I love you.”

“You’re scaring me,” He whispered, fear written across his face. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him once more. It was similar to the kiss he had given you when he had said goodbye, one full of love and passion. It said all that needed to be said, and Dean realized that.

You pulled away and quickly made your way to the door, Dean calling your name fiercely when he realized what you were doing. The minute you were down the steps of the porch, Aamon appeared, placing a hand on your shoulder. You dared to look up at Dean, his face full of horror and shock, hurt and betrayal. Your knees were weak as you stood, watching the man you love look at you with such agony in his eyes. The pain in your chest grew and it became unbearable, your breaths coming in gasps as the tears continued to fall.

“You promised me,” He said softly. “You promised me that you’d fight!”

“He was going to kill you,” You choked. “All of you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I gave her a choice, boys,” Aamon said, his hand tightening on your shoulder until his nails dug painfully into your flesh. You let out a grunt and bit your lip as he continued to dig his nails in deeper. “And unfortunately, she chose the boring way. But we made a deal, and you will be unharmed. So, good luck with the apocalypse boys, but we’re gone.”

“No!” Dean barked, rushing forward.

You whispered an “I’m sorry,” and by the time Dean reached you, you were gone. Aamon had you, leaving Dean with a crumpled soul and a dozen different emotions, all in the angry and devastated range. He let out a loud growl and kicked a car piece to his left.

He’d find you, if it was the last thing he did. He swore to protect you, and he’d be damned if he let Aamon win. Because he loved you, dammit, and he was going to gut the son of a bitch that had you, who killed nearly every one you loved. He made you a promise, and he was sure as hell going to keep it.

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