#the closet is right next to the furnace and there's windows in every room and a skylight in the only windowless room

[bush-viper-cutie]

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot:  Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

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~*~*~ = time skip

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Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again.  He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places.  It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

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Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

[honeytae]

I can’t believe you killed me on my birthday.

ok hi i love this concept :( and i just loved it even more for jin’s birthday fic. playing in the snow with seokjin is just a dream of mine, i guess. i know this is a bit late but happy belated birthday, jinnie!  tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.3k

Your original plan for this day was to spend it rightfully pampering your man; something that should’ve been simple enough with the genuine desire you had to do just that.

However, the universe was, evidently, not on your side from the moment you’d woken up to a strange yet familiar brightness straining your eyelids, goosebumps raising on your arms from the low temperature of your bedroom.

At first, you assumed that maybe you’d slept in later than you expected to. However, you quickly ruled that option out without shifting from your place in bed. 

Despite your grogginess, you knew you had set an alarm last night, and you were sure you plugged your phone in before going to sleep. 

Reaching over to your nightstand to feel around the surface for said device, your fingers fumbled over the object before bringing it closer to your face, eyes squinted at the screen.

And that was when the day took its first bad turn.

According to every news source in Korea, the biggest snowstorm of the year just happened to hit during the early hours of this morning, coating the city in white and slicking the roads in a dangerous sheet of ice; effectively ruining all plans you’d had to leave your home for Seokjin’s birthday celebrations today.

Looking back at the man spooning you from behind, you pouted at his soft and innocent expression. Exhales puffed out of his slightly ajar mouth, his chest rising with each deep inhale as the tip of his nose scrunched slightly in his sleep. 

Reluctantly unraveling his arms from your body, you sat up out of his grip, keeping your eyes on him as you paused for a moment to make sure he was still asleep before deciding it was safe to stand up when he remained unmoving.

Climbing out of bed with a huff, you slid your feet into your slippers, shuffling to the kitchen with a yawn and a rub of your eyes. Mind occupied with new ideas of how to try to make his day memorable, you momentarily pushed aside the disappointment you felt on behalf of Seokjin still cuddled into your empty mass of blankets. 

Just when you were beginning to accept that you would have to move your plans indoors, the lights began flickering above your head; your intentions of making the birthday boy breakfast in bed pushing you to scurry around the kitchen in an attempt to get something made before it was too late. 

However, in a matter of seconds, the power in your building had gone out completely, leaving you near tears in front of your blank oven, feeling quite hopeless as all your new ideas had just been finished before they even started.

So that is how you ended up pouting in your freezing cold apartment on Seokjin’s birthday, cuddled in bed with your boyfriend to combine your body heat to make up for what your furnace would be doing; you know, if your power hadn’t gone out.

To Jin, it didn’t make much of a difference at all. At least you two were together, safe and sound, albeit a little chilly from the lack of heat in your shared living space.

He found it a bit humorous that you were so worked up about a simple date on the calendar, already having consoled you this morning when he found you pouting in the kitchen by yourself.

As you reclined on the mattress together, his arm looped around your body and pinned your back to his chest, head tucked into your shoulder as he happily nuzzled into your skin. 

You sat up slightly in his hold, reaching for your phone to check the time and groaning at the timestamp. It was now approaching an hour more suitable for a proper lunch, and so far today, you had only shared a packet of cold pop tarts with Jin. 

To say you felt like a complete and utter failure would be an understatement.

“My battery is running low.” You huffed, tossing your phone to the end of the bed as your boyfriend’s chest rumbled against your back. He rubbed his hand up and down your side in reassurance, chuckling softly into your ear as he lifted his face to peek at your own.

“Well, if Jungkook hadn’t stolen my portable charger, I’d give it to you. You know, do you think he had something to do with this snowstorm? Sounds like something the little brat would do to mess with me, doesn’t it?” He knit his eyebrows together in thought, the playful smile he wore fading when he saw your less than happy facial expression.

“Love, it’s just like any other day. Please don’t feel bad.” He tried to soothe you, his words only getting you more upset at his own dismissal of his day of birth.

“It’s not just any other day though, babe. This is your birthday. I wanted to celebrate you properly.” You pouted, Seokjin poking at your jutted out bottom lip with his pointer finger in disapproval. 

“I know. And I appreciate that angel, I do. So what if the weather doesn’t comply? I can still see your effort.” He shrugged, eyes following your body as you began to get up from the bed. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, sitting up off the headboard in search of your warmth as stood from the mattress, walking toward the door of your bedroom before turning around to answer him.

“I’ll be right back.” You said simply, ignoring your boyfriend’s sigh as you retreated down the hall and into the living room, pausing in front of the windows and opening the curtains to glare at the still falling snow over the city.

“I hate you.” You grumbled as you looked out the window, wheels turning inside your head as you tried to think of how you could salvage this day. 

Eyes dropping down from the dreary gray sky to the heaps of snow building up on the ground of your patio, you took a deep breath, weighing your options before decidedly turning around, walking back down the hallway to make a brief stop at the coat closet before taking quick strides back to the bedroom.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m being a complete downer.” 

Seokjin’s head turned away from the windows on the opposite side of the room at your re-entrance, smiling slightly at your words with raised brows. 

Before he could make a comment on the rare occasion of you saying he was right, you were suddenly plopping yourself down onto his lap, straddling his hips and dropping his coat and gloves onto his chest. 

“Now, c’mon. We’re going outside.” You smiled, Jin pulling his brows together in confusion as his eyes sparkled back at you.

“We are?” He cracked a smile when you nodded in response, retreating from his lap so that he could stand up.

“We are. I’m not letting you have a boring birthday.” You said determinedly, Seokjin biting the inside of his lip in utter fondness for you as you began to pull on your jacket. 

Upon getting a directing nod from you, he rushed to slip his jacket on, his eagerness displayed in the action as you walked over to the closet, grabbing two hats and tossing one for your boyfriend to catch. 

He quickly slipped the fabric over his dark hair as you did the same, Seokjin’s hands reaching out to adjust your hat as you fiddled with the zipper of your jacket in preparation for the freezing weather outside.

“Cute.” He smiled softly as he settled the hat over your ears, you wrinkling your nose at his praise before shuffling around his body, placing your palms on his back to push him out of the bedroom.

Seokjin chuckled at your actions, purposely planting his feet down on the ground to stubbornly keep you from shoving his body forward. He laughed as you whined behind him, pushing him harder as he remained in his spot on the floor.

“Oh my god, Jin, c’mon.” You chuckled, Seokjin tutting his tongue in response before bending his knees to crouch in front of you. 

“Hop on.” He ordered, you scoffing with a roll of your eyes as you prepared to deny him, the man reading your mind as his hands came out to grab the weak backs of your knees. 

You had no choice but to fall onto his back with a surprised squeal, cursing at Seokjin for his persistence as he laughed.

“Come on, baby. It’s my birthday.” He audibly pouted, prompting another roll of your eyes before you caved, lifting your hips onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, a loud cheer coming from his mouth.

You giggled as he carried you down the hall and through the living room, Seokjin beaming at the reaction he had successfully obtained from you as he approached the door to the balcony.

“Believe me, this is much more efficient, my love.” He smiled, sliding the glass door open with his foot before leading you outside, tossing you off of his back and into the cushion of the feet-high snow on the ground.

“Ugh, Jin!” You scolded him, the man laughing as he leaned down over you, looking at you with a proud smirk as you glared up at him.

“I’m sorry, baby. Come here.” He gestured with a nod of his head, stretching a hand down to you so that you could lift yourself to stand on your feet again.

With a sly smile, you placed your hand in his, taking the opportunity to tug him down to the ground with you as he let a shocked gasp escape his mouth, gloved hand landing on the snow beside your head to catch himself before he crushed you.

“Love, I trusted you!” He whined, you giggling in response as he shuffled off of you, sitting on the cold buildup next to you as he turned his face up to the sky.

You smiled as you watched him stick his tongue out to catch the snowflakes, his mouth closing, head turning back toward you as he pressed his lips together in thought.

“Snow never tastes as good as I think it does.” He frowned, making your smile widen at his adorable actions before he squinted his eyes at you.

Looking from the pile of snow at his feet and back to you, a mischievous smirk lifted the corners of his lips as shuffled up onto his knees and leaned down to pack a ball of snow in his hand, you pointing your finger at him with a warning glare.

“Jin, don’t you dare-”

With a grin, he tossed the snowball at you, the solid sphere turning into a cloud of fluff upon making contact with your body.

You bit your bottom lip to hold back a smile, the man’s eyebrows raised in a challenge as he held his hands up near his head in surrender. 

“You’re really asking for it, now.” You sat up to gather snow in your palm, slinging your arm backward to aim it at your boyfriend, hitting him directly in the chest with a proud grin.

You watched as your boyfriend dramatically fell to the ground, clutching his hands over the spot you’d hit him on his chest as he groaned loudly.

Rolling your eyes at his little act, you stalked over to him, snow crunching underneath your footsteps as you walked, the prints of your boots marking your path behind you.

“Have I died and gone to heaven? Because surely you’re an angel.” He said with a proud grin across his face, staring up at you as you stood over him.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head with a small laugh, the man’s squeaky laugh meeting your ears as you kneeled next to his body. 

Reaching an arm out to hook around your waist, he brought your body down onto his, his hands adjusting your hat to situate over the tips of your ears again as it had slid at some point during your time outside.

“I can’t believe you killed me on my birthday.” He mumbled, you snorting at his words and making a wide smile appear on his face as he laughed with you. 

“Merely self-defense, babe. Don’t take it personally.” You patted his chest reassuringly, Seokjin wrinkling his nose in disapproval of your words.

“Hm,” he hummed in thought, you raising your eyebrows in suspense with a small grin of your own, mirroring his expression as he cleared his throat dramatically, “I don’t know. I think I’m in need of some kisses.” He suggested in a nonchalant tone, mouth slanted in a lazy smile as your eyebrows raised higher in amusement.

“Oh? Is that right?” You asked, Seokjin eagerly nodding in response as he puckered his lips, shifting his pout from side to side making you giggle as you caved in to his antics. 

Leaning down to catch his pouted pink lips with yours, you smiled against him as he let a soft hum of his approval escape at the warmth radiating from your mouth. Your lips parted synchronously, your hands stationing on the sides of his head as you captured his bottom lip in a soft suckle between your own. 

Placing his hand on the back of your head, he pushed you down closer, the innocence of the kiss fading with each stroke of his tongue into your mouth. His hands trailed down your back to caress your sides, landing on your hips and rubbing slow circles into your flannel pajama pants with his thumbs. 

 With a playful nibble on his bottom lip, you broke apart from him, eyes dragging up from his swollen pink lips to his dark brown eyes with a questioning raise of your eyebrow.

“So,” you spoke in an unsteady exhale, “am I forgiven?” You asked with a slight smirk, Seokjin chuckling shyly before shrugging, the lack of answer making you scoff at the smug man underneath you. 

“Alright. I guess I’ll just have to continue, then.” You sighed with a shrug, a wide smile appearing on his face as he pulled you back down so that your face hovered over his own again as he picked his head up to better accommodate his desires.

“I guess so.” 

[samwritesforyou]

Booked

Diego x reader (the whole family is present at the beginning but as time goes on becomes more Diego-centric)

Summary: You have a summer house that is far away from any big cities, you’ve inherited it from your great-great-parents and you want to prove to your friends that you cannot possibly make an income out of it. So you submit the house at booking dot com for the lowest price possible. Your plan was working for years and you’ve been happy and content just by growing your own food and participating in the village’s community, completely forgetting about the offer you presented on booking. Until one day, seven siblings arrive at your place, saying they reserved themselves the whole house for the eternity of summer.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, swear words (? but just a couple, mainly from Five)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: settling is post s2, so everyone looks accordingly. umbrella academy gets back into the timeline where no umbrella nor the sparrow academy exists, yet the world is still ending. mostly written out of nostalgia for my own summer house that my family sold years ago and i will never come back there, so i want it to live on at least somewhere

Summers were always hot in this little village that you lived in, especially with the climate change looming over humanity’s ignorant heads.

So you were actually relieved that you finally persuaded a local technician to help you fix the fridge that stopped freezing its insides for good two weeks already.

You just handed her the cash and waved her goodbye, also giving the lady a basket with apples and peaches that grew in your garden. You don’t have enough people eating your fruits and most of it goes into jams anyways.

You waited a little until her car disappeared into the horizon of the bumpy road near your house, seeing as it even got blurry in the end, as the air was literally melting the reality in front of your eyes.

With a swift movement you adjusted a cap on your head, went out of the creaky gate - which green color was peeling off into the original black metal that it was made with - and closed it behind yourself with a happy hum.

It was a twenty minutes walk to the nearest convenience store and it gave you just enough time to ponder about the recent weird thing that happened to you.

About three days ago you just got a random payment come to your bank account.

15 Euros. That was it.

No note, no name.

You decided to let it be, even though it did stir your mind in various ways.

Normally, when something like this happens, the bank realises the mistake in the recipient and takes the money back within 24 hours.

Either the person who sent it didn’t care that it went to the wrong place or bank decided to be generous with you.

Whatever the reason was, those 15 Euros could be used now to buy yourself a little more sweets than you usually do.

You never had to complain about how little money you actually have from living here and being more or less self-sufficient, but some random extra cash will make anyone smile in this capitalistic hell that you tried so hard to escape from.

.

.

After you came home you started sorting out groceries that you’ve bought, putting them into the right places.

Upon finishing you just plopped yourself on the bench near the big abandoned table in the room, looking around.

This house used to be alive. With a lot of your family members running around, making noise, sometimes fighting, but always generally just enjoying the good time at this place.

At the end of the extended room was a window, showing you the rest of the garden that you lovingly cared for every single day.

Under the window was a spacious kitchen counter, with a fridge and shelves for ingredients next to it. Then there was the entrance to one of the unused bedrooms with one bed pushed against the wall, which in turn was covered by a red hanging carpet. On a wall, yes.

You stopped tracing the room around with your eyes as you heard some rummaging coming from the outside.

After easily springing to your feet you saw black dots in front of you and your head was spinning. Damn you, iron deficiency!

A few seconds passed and you were collected again, rushing out towards the gates to the property.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw five people literally barging through your piece of land with suitcases and bags, bickering with each other.

Oh, nope. They were six, actually. A very tiny figure closed the gate after all of them made it in and started clumsily going forward on a tiny tartan road that lead all the way to the summer house.

“Klaus, stop fucking pushing around and help me with the bags, maybe?” said a man with longer curly hair and a goatee, clearly agitated at another person, who wasn’t holding anything except some bottle in their hand.

“Oh cut it, you two! We’re almost in the house, come on,” said a woman with straight black hair in the flowery dress and then she noticed that someone blocks their way.

Her eyes landed on you.

“Um... hello?” she said with an awkward smile, attempting a wave in your direction and continued, “are you the owner? We booked your house until the rest of the summer like.. a few days ago.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open in the “o” shape, trying to grasp the reality.

So.... someone really booked your summer house after several years of no traction from booking and you had no clue.

That’s what the payment was for!

But..

“Oh,” you said, not knowing how to proceed about the situation, “well, you see.. um... I have nowhere to stay? This is my only home,” you started timidly, rubbing your hands together.

“Oh,” the woman seemed surprised and confused but quickly collected herself, “well, if you have enough beds to keep us all in then it’s no problem, I guess?”

“Yeah? Alright, great!” You smiled at the whole “squad” and looked at them all.

“Uhm.. my name is y/n! Welcome to my summer house, I guess,” you put your hands into the back pockets and shook your head a little into the direction of the house.

“Allison, nice to meet you,” the woman you talked to said, smiling invitingly.

“Diego,” almost spat the guy with the goatee.

“Klaus, darling,” said the person with the bottle in their hand, widening his arms in an invisible hug.

“Luther,” mumbled a big man in the back of them all.. he looked like he’s been through something.

Actually, they all do.

“Vanya,” chirped a girl behind the big- Luther, the corners of her lips lifting ever so lightly.

“Five,” said a child in the front, looking unusually angry, suddenly shortening the distance between the two of you, “as long as you’re out of our business you’re good to stay,” he literally sneered at you, pushing past you and going inside.

That left you kinda shook, but then Allison just apologised for “their brother”, so you decided to ask another question:

“So you’re all a family?”

“Yes, we’re all siblings. Adopted,” she said, actually following you inside, not as the little guy before who let himself in without even knowing the place.

“I think my place is not the best for so many people to sleep at though..” you said quietly, biting your lip.

“That’s why it was so cheap..” Luther wondered, looking around.

You had to calm yourself so you didn’t snap at your guest. You didn’t even know anyone would ever book your house, damn! What were you supposed to do?

In the end you spent some time showing them the rooms, starting with the first one that contained an old-fashioned sink and the water tank near it, which you needed to manually fill up with water, and the drain led to the bucket under it.

Very simple.

In the back of the room there was a dining table, on one side surrounded by the bench and the other with some mismatching chairs.

From this space you proceeded into the extended “hallway” that you stared at before your peace and quiet was ruined.

There was also an ancient literal furnace, on top of which you could actually lay on, you know, as in all the fairytales.

After that, there was another room entrance that contained two beds on each side (one of them pushed under the window), similar to the other room and a coffee table in the middle of the area.

When you all went back to the first place, there was a wooden staircase that led to the second floor.

There were two rooms. One had a king sized bed in the middle of the space, with a closet and various tables around the whole area.

The other one had a working table and a bed in the corner.

“And that is the end of the tour!” you proclaimed, as everyone got seated by the big table in the extended room, while you were making everyone tea and preparing some snacks.

“Great, I sleep on the furnace!” Klaus exclaimed, putting his hands in the air animatedly.

“I guess we can fit all of us in here, actually,” Allison was clearly thinking aloud, counting the members of the family and available sleeping places.

“You’re gonna take one of the beds, right?” she said, pointing at you.

“Uh.. yes! Upstairs, I think. The one with the small bed and a table,” you smiled at her and she nodded.

“Then I’ll be sleeping with Vanya in the king-sized bed and you guys can fight for who’s going to end up sharing the room,” Allison concluded, clearly enjoying herself.

“Funny of you to think I’ll have enough time to sleep, in our situation,” said Five, suddenly coming out from the doorframe into the room.

You didn’t even mention that he wasn’t there when you were explaining the plan of the house.

“What situation? There should always be time to sleep,” you chipped in, carefully smiling at the boy.

“Stay the fuck out of our business, I said,” he gritted through his teeth at you, which left you blinking in surprise as he went away again, out of sight.

“How... old is he again?” you asked with the confusion that a kid would be so rude to a stranger like this.

All of them kind of nervously laughed or mumbled something that you couldn’t understand.

“It’s complicated,” said Vanya, smiling at you reassuringly.

How the fuck an age of your own brother is complicated?..

You heard the fancy-looking woman - Allison - sigh heavily and turn to you, shrugging.

“It’s just.. when our parents adopted him, he freshly got into the orphanage so he didn’t even have any documents about his birthday, blood type or anything. Apparently, he was really abused by his biological parents. Or whoever else, we don’t even know.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry,” you apologised quickly, biting your lip. Didn’t expect to poke into any painful subjects.

“It’s okay, really, we’ve learned how to take proper care of him,” Allison said, putting her hand on your back with a smile.

When you excused yourself to continue with gardening and went outside, Allison just shook her head.

“Who says ‘it’s complicated’ when someone asks you about their sibling’s age, Vanya?” said Allison in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would settle the matter..” she muttered, playing with her fingers anxiously.

“It’s okay..” she smiled at her sister and then looked around the whole table, “look we’re here for the whole summer, so I think it would be better if we somehow told the owner at least partially about our powers so we’re not hiding all the time. We came here to have a safe space where we could train after all, am I right?” she looked expectantly at Luther who immediately started nodding along, agreeing.

“Or maybe,” started saying Klaus, already getting up from his seat and trying to crawl onto the furnace, skinny legs already dangling in the air, “we can just tell them we’re the umbrella academy, don’t you think?” he concluded, facing a wall with his face.

“But we checked that the umbrella academy doesn’t exist in this universe.. nor any other replacement of us,” reminded her siblings Vanya, fingers still intertwined on the table, firmly put together.

“I’m sure we’ll tell them one way or another,” said Diego, getting up just like his brother, making his way a bit further though, his objective clearly being the fridge.

He opened it and smirked at the beer present there, taking one can with him. His eyes then wondered to the window at the end of the room and he stepped closer, inspecting what is outside.

Apparently it was still their new home’s property, as he saw y/n working in the garden, repotting some plants under the tree.

His gaze stayed on them as he thought about various topics in his head, but then he decided to go out of the house, jumping down the wooden stairs leading to the tartan road, framing the whole garden.

You heard steps behind you, turning your head away from the the plants, only to meet a tall man in front of you, with a can in his hand.

“Hey, uhm..” he nervously put his hand on his neck, scratching it, “I just wanted to ask if it’s cool if I take some beer from the fridge?” he lifted the other hand with the mentioned item, giving it a little shake.

“It’s cool,” you replied, smiling softly at him, and then getting back to work, grabbing the plant by the root, moving it to another hole in the ground.

“Okay..” he retorted, biting his lower lip and scanned the area with his dark eyes.

There was an abandoned greenhouse with broken walls, greenery growing all around it, just next to the fence of the property. To its left was a wooden toilet booth with a typical round-shaped hole in the higher part of the door.

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” you started talking again, now finally done with your objective of the day, now plopping yourself next to Diego on the bench that he was chilling at, the surface creaking from the added weight, “I really thought nobody would *ever* rent this place,” you shrugged with a smile, now looking in front of yourself, closing your eyes and letting sunshine illuminate your face.

“Well.. uh.. then why did you put up on that website anyways?” he asked, clear confusion in his voice.

You sighed, shifting your body a little, getting into more comfortable sitting position, “It was a bet I made with my friends back in the day. A few years ago they told me I could actually rent this place and get income from it, not having to work a day in my life! Yet i told them that it’s not possible, and I wanted to prove that I was right by putting the advertisement,” you finished, finally opening your eyes, tilting your head at your new acquaintance.

You caught him staring at you, so he quickly turned away, now getting quite a violent sip out of the beer can.

“You should’ve put some timing on that bet then.. Let’s say, if it doesn’t get traction after two years you’ll finally delete the posting,” he said, after gulping some liquid.

That made you laugh and you couldn’t look away from him. His features were so.. delicate.

“Yeah, you’re actually right!” you admitted, slapping your thighs in excitement.

“Diego, my precious brother!” you two suddenly heard from the entrance to the house.

You lifted your eyes and saw a slender confide getting closer to you both, the man walking barefoot.

“Five said we’re all needed for a ‘family meeting’,” the guy literally put an air quotes with his free hand that wasn’t holding a glass, saying it in the mockingly serious tone, “so you better come with me and stop bothering this lovely person, alright?” he then proceeded sweetly, extending a hand towards Diego with a wide smile.

“God.. alright,” he answered and to your surprise took his hand, now brothers going away into the house, Diego briefly looking back at you, “Let’s talk later.”

You just nodded, finding yourself still smiling long before they were gone.

What is this funny feeling in the pit of your stomach?..

And why is one of their family members called by a number instead of a name?!

.

.

It was only the second day of your coexistence with the Hargreeves but it was already a wild ride.

Normally your morning looked like this;

You would wake up at a reasonable hour, maybe like.. 9am. You would go down the stairs from your room and make yourself some breakfast. While eating you’d either read a book or just listen to some music from your phone.

Then you’d do daily tasks, so taking care of the garden or some house maintenance, or both.

Then you’d do everything special that needs to be done only once in a while: a meeting with a friend, grocery shopping, attending a meeting with your neighbours where you decide on further upgrades of the village.

Then you’d draw some commissions, if there were any and after all of this you’d have late lunch that normally turned into dinner, concluding your day with doing your hobbies or rarely taking out your laptop and browsing the internet.

“Rise and shiiine!” you heard somewhere from downstairs, for some reason that person was also ringing a bell, making you immediately sit up in your bed.

You turned your head towards the mirror that hung across your sleeping space on the wall and you could see your hair standing up in different directions, cowlick upon cowlick.

You also felt tired, kind of not used to that feeling and shifted your half-closed eyes to the alarm clock near you.

It was... a bit past 7am. Who are those people to wake up that early?!

You lazily got up from the bed, yawning and stretching your arms up, feeling a few cracks here and there.

“Good morning!” first half of the sentence was muffled by the closed door to your room, but that quickly changed as it burst open, Klaus marching right in, his voice now uncomfortably loud for your sleepy ears, “I thought it would be nice to have breakfast all together and make you feel a part of the family, wouldn’t it?” he said with a genuine smile, looking at you.

You were sitting on your bed in pyjamas, hair all over the place, most unamused expression on the face, eyes half opened.

“Not a morning person?” he mused, tilting his head at you, “well, feel free to join or sleep more, I wouldn’t judge,” he continued and you saw in literal slow motion as he lifted his hand with a bell in hand, shaking it hard as he marched out of your room just in the same manner as he came in just seconds ago.

“BREAKFAST!!” he yelled with at least two octaves lower at his siblings, still ringing the bell that now was resonating in your brain in a highest pitch possible, making your head hurt.

Great morning.

But despite the general morning grumpiness you did find it endearing that Klaus decided to include you in their activities, making you feel less alone and - quite funnily - welcomed in your own house.

You slowly went down the stairs, hearing the lower floor full of different voices and it made your heart clench. You immediately thought of your family that made it feel alive like this in the past and a warm smile appeared on your face, as the Hargreeves huddled up around the smaller table in the room you descended from the stairs into, all making your appearance feel natural.

“Good morning,” you passed Luther that nodded in your direction alongside the phrase, as you went into the bigger room, seeing Allison cooking by the stove, window open.

“Oh hey, you’re up,” she said with a smile, “can you pass me some milk?” she asked, extending her hand into the air, already expecting said item.

“Sure!!” you hurriedly opened the fridge, giving her the thing she requested and she continued cooking.

You slowly looked around, seeing a blanket and some different things like cigarette boxes and teddy bears on top of the furnace, which made you realise that someone from the family has clearly claimed it to be their place for sleeping and you found it adorable.

“You can go sit with the others, I’ll bring it all in when it’s ready, Allison said, adjusting her black hair so it didn’t get in the way of preparing food.

“Oh.. okay!” you chirped, with a smile going back to the first room, and finding an empty seat between Diego and Klaus.

You almost sat already when Klaus sprang to his feet and took you by the shoulders, making you freeze on the spot, eyes wide.

“Klaus?” you asked, confused, “is that seat taken?”

“By Allison,” Diego quickly responded before his brother had any chance to and then the skinny man sat back on his chair, nodding with an awkward smile on his face.

“Yes, exactly. Sorry y/n,” he sighed and shrugged, clearly playing along Diego’s words, but you just let it go.

Instead you sat next to Luther, whom already opened his mouth but Vanya looked at him with a forced smile, raising a brow. At that, the big guy closed his mouth again, without making a sound.

Something.. is weird here. You shifted a bit in your seat, biting your lower lip.

The kid wasn’t here at all, you just noticed.

Then finally Allison came with the food and your anxiety lessened, as everyone started cheering for wonderful pancakes that she made.

She already wanted to sit on the seat that the guys told you was reserved for her, when suddenly Klaus did the same to her as he did to you.

“Klaus,” Diego hissed in a low voice.

Allison just looked at her brother, expression just as confused as yours was.

“What?” Allison deadpanned, putting a hand to her hip.

There was a brief second of silence until Klaus just burst into an emotional speech.

“Look, I know we’re all pretending that we’re normal in front of y/n but you all know that Ben always sits next to me and he’s sitting here right now, yet you all wanna make it seem like he doesn’t exist? I’m sorry that he’s a ghost, I’m sure he didn’t want to die either!” then after a moment he added, “Right, brother dear?” looking at an empty space near him.

Your brain clearly wasn’t catching up to what was just being said.

Pretending to be normal?..

“Great. Just fucking great, Klaus. I bet Ben would move, understanding the situation!” Allison waved her hands at him and the chair next to him with an annoyed voice.

“We just blew our cover, guys,” said Diego with pursed lips, looking absentmindedly at the table filled with food.

Soon enough they all started arguing and only when there was a sudden blue light in the room, and the kid appeared literally out of the thin air in front of your eyes, everyone fell silent, looking at him.

“Guys, I just did a search around the neighbourhood and—“ his blue eyes met with yours, full of shock and denial of what you just saw, “shit.”

He clicked his tongue and frowned and that was positively the last thing you remember before losing consciousness, everything around you turning black.

Too much of supernatural for one morning, that’s for sure.

Precious taglist:  @radcloudenthusiast​,  @spacenerdpascal​

NEXT PART→

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | prologue

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, future dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader 

Of first meetings with your landlord and being enamoured with the hauntingly beautiful house. A new start.

► warnings(!): none for this chapter, eventual dubcon/noncon, eventual choking in future chapters. this is a dark fic.

a/n: I’m opening a taglist for this series, just hmu with an ask.

When people think of Fall, they can’t help but attribute it to the crispy coldness, the yellowing of leaves, or children in pumpkin patches. Young adults would probably think of the pumpkin spice lattes from cafes, or for the fans of the occult, All Hallow’s Eve’s approach comes to the mind. Just like the changing of leaves, for you, Fall reminds you of new beginnings. A fresh start.

The autumn wind chills as you huddled closer in your coat, trying to retain warmth. Your old car —a Studebaker Lark ‘63— parked on the curb of the road as you approached the house. 

Ahead over you, in its Gothic Revival glory, sat a white wooden house. The drab grey sky made it seem more imposing in stature. The roof was a contrasting grey, steeply pitched with an arched gable. Delicate wooden trims decorated the front; nothing intricate but a simple design. Dirty windows entered your peripheral, the accumulated dust blurring them. 

Taking everything in, the house seemed well-maintained, but the chipping of paint reminded you of its age. 

Nevertheless, for a structure of such grandeur, it was astonishingly inexpensive. After hours of pouring over internet searches, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you stumbled upon it. 

The house was a classic; with its architecture and size, you deemed it perfect. Located in a quieter part of Maryland, bordering DC; not too far from your place of employment, but far from the cacophonies of the city. This, you considered, was your fresh start.

Standing near the driveway was a greying gentleman; grey hair perfectly coiffed, crow’s feet in the corners of twinkling blue eyes. You assumed he’s in his 60’s or 70’s. He greeted you, his weathered face smiling, with a walking stick in hand, although he still seemed strong for his age.

“Good day, Mr Rogers,” you smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

“It’s a pleasure, dear,” he replied. “Let’s go in, shall we?” 

Stepping onto the porch, you observed your surroundings. The rustling of trees by the wind was the most prominent of sound, if anything else, it was dead quiet. You could see other houses scattered in the distance, however no immediate neighbours were within vicinity. 

The click of the front door unlocking pulled you. The inside was dark, the dusty windows permitting little light, while the floor was covered by a thin layer of dust. 

Mr Rogers walked in first, pushing the door and held it open for you. You thanked him, pleased with his gentlemanly ways.

A hiss left you at the sudden switching of lights, attacking your eyes as they readjusted. You blinked a few times to take in the interior. 

The hallway was long; cream coloured wallpaper hugged its sides, ending to a larger room in the distance. The walls were bare except for a few random antique mirrors. To your left, a stairway sits. It contrasts the walls; a rich, sturdy, mahogany. To your right, an entrance way opens up; silhouettes standing in the dim shadows.

“I apologize, it’s a bit dusty,” said Mr Rogers, sheepishly. “I try to clean it up at least once a month.”

“By yourself?” you ask, bewildered.

He chuckled, “No, with a cleaning company, dear.”

Telling you to follow him, Mr Rogers stepped into the entryway to your right, switching the lights on. 

The silhouettes you saw earlier were of the furniture strewn about; chesterfield sofas, armchairs, and antique floor lamps crowding the room. A fireplace stood near another entrance, a large mirror erected over its mantle, reflecting the rays from the porch windows. It looked like a scene out of those classic films you used to love. If tidied properly, this would be the best reading spot, you thought.

“This is the parlour,” he announced, “Great for having guests over.”

“It’s beautiful,” you beamed. 

Moving forward, Mr Rogers walked through the other entryway, leading to a dining room. From your vantage point, you could see this is the room the hallway ends up to. 

Smacked in the middle, a sleek white marble dining table sits. Its length stretches across the room, sets of dining chairs accommodating tens of people. It looked ideal for hosting dinner parties. 

The dining room was connected to the kitchen in the back, easing the transferring of food. When you stepped foot into the kitchen, you didn’t expect it to be extravagantly spacious. You smiled, envisioning  yourself cooking meals in this kitchen.

“There are a few pots and pans under the cupboards if you ever want to use ‘em,” the older man says. “They were my wife’s” 

Curious, you pressed, “Your wife, sir?”

“Yep, my wife, Peggy,” he smiled, eyes distant, lost in a different time, “Actually, she was the one who owned this house, or atleast, her family did. I inherited it after she passed away, felt it was too big to live by myself ya know?”

You hummed in understanding. He must have lived a fulfilling life with his wife, judging by the look. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it, composed himself, and marched on.

“This here leads to the back of the house,” he gestured to a door, the upper half a transparent window. You could see tall blades of grass and the dense trees swaying out back, reacting to the wind. “And this one’s the laundry room, the bathroom’s next to it,” he continued, opening a second door in the kitchen.

You both left the kitchen, entering the hallway through the dining room. As you passed, you noticed a set of stairs obscured under the main staircase. It was smaller, leading down under, ending where a thick black door stood in slight darkness.

“Uhm, Mr Rogers?” you asked, pausing. “What’s that room?”

The older man stopped, turning to look back. 

“Oh, that’s the basement. Nothing exciting down there though, just a furnace and some tools. I’ll show you soon,” he seemed to ramble, before turning his back quickly. Without waiting for you, he started climbing the stairs, slowly, hand gripping the railings tightly, walking stick in the other.

That prompted an eyebrow raise from you, he almost seemed flustered. Shrugging it off, you followed.

“So, tell me, dear,” he started, “What brings you searching for a house in this area? It’s not exactly the most happening of places for youngsters.”

The question surprised you. Usually most landlords don’t bother to know such, especially of potential tenants. Their only concern being prompt payments, or you’re out.

“Um, I’m a vet, and I actually work closer here than if I live in the city,” you replied, “Plus, it beats the DC traffic.” Which was true, harrowing through traffic everyday was exhausting.

Mr Rogers chuckled in response.

The second floor was the same layout as the floor below; a long hallway with doors. You noticed there were even more mirrors on this floor. Come to think of it, there were mirrors in every room you’ve been in so far.

“There are three bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor,” —the man explains, opening a door— “And this is the master bedroom.”

It was spacious and regal, light blue walls with dark furniture occupied the room; a king-sized four poster, a vanity, and a large wardrobe stood next to a closet. On the furthest side, two stained glass doors stood, leading to a balcony overlooking the front yard. The colours from the glass reflected on the walls, giving allusions to crystalline shapes. You imagined how they’d reflect during sunset. It was perfect.

The tour commenced with Mr Rogers showing the other two bedrooms and bathroom. At the end of the hall, he led you to a wooden ladder that stood connected to a latch door in the ceiling. 

“That’s the attic, nothing much but dust and some old furniture,” he pointed, “You can take a look at ‘em and see if they’re to your liking when you decide to move in.”

Heading down the stairs, the basement was the last place on the tour.

“So, how are you liking the place so far?” he asks, walking beside you.

Biting your lip, you chose your words carefully. “It’s beautiful, the furniture, the decor, and such big space as well,” you said, “Although I’m surprised that I’ll be getting all of this, especially with the price.” 

The elder man picked up on your apprehension, “Ah, about that, I’ll discuss the details with you after we finish.” He took the lead, pushing the thick black door with his body. He was stronger than you expected. 

A sense of foreboding was felt at first as the door creaked. After going further down the steps, it wasn’t as dark as you expected. Minimal light shone in through small windows on the upper walls, the glass separating the two worlds.

The dangling chain on the ceiling was pulled, flooding the space in light. Adjusting to the brightness, you could see it was dustier in the basement. Cobwebs hung in corners, entangling corpses with them. Thick dust covered the surface of shelves, as if a blizzard invaded. An even thicker silence settled, deafening to the core.

“Don’t you worry about that thing,” the man’s voice echoed, pointing to a furnace in the back, “Got that serviced this year, if anything happens just let me know.” Turning to the shelves, he seemed to inspect them for a few moments, eyes squinting. “And there’s a lot of tool boxes in here,” he gestured to the heavy shelves, pushed to the walls, “Feel free to use ‘em.”

Not wasting any time, Mr Rogers turned back towards the stairs. You followed suit, pulling the chain, basking the basement in darkness once more. 

As you began to ascend, a sudden strong scent invaded your nostrils, wafting through like an uninvited guest. You gave another whiff. A musky scent, wild, and smoky, further reminding you of Fall. 

Casting one last glance into the darkness, you shrugged it off, and closed the door. Must’ve been Mr Rogers’ faint cologne.

You observed the state of the porch as Mr Rogers locked the front door. The porch needed sweeping, you noted, stepping on a sea of dead leaves, their crunching audible. 

Overlooking the lawn, you noticed a pair of blue eyes at the edge of the porch. A pair of white fluffy ears accompanied, flickering occasionally. You smiled, it seemed like you had a visitor.

Squatting down on the steps of the porch, you chittered, hoping to catch its attention. After a few seconds, a white blur zoomed in, scurrying then stopping abruptly at your feet. It mewled, wide blue eyes staring, demanding attention. You petted and scratched below its jaw, the creature emitting content purrs. 

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you,” voices Mr Rogers from behind, “She’s a stray, always coming ‘round.”

“I’m surprised, she’s very friendly,” you said, petting snowy fur.

Seconds pass, the cat’s purr the only sound. 

“I’m sure you’ve been wondering regarding the rent,” he breaks the silence, taking a seat on the porch steps. “Why it’s so… well, cheap, for a fully furnished house like this.”

“Well… yeah, I actually almost thought it was a scam,” you replied, sheepish. “I had to actually see it for myself.”

The older gentleman laughed, “I don’t blame you, it sounds too good to be true.”

And indeed, it was. For a classic house like this, dating probably a century back, and fully furnished, something must be up. It was too good of a good bargain.

“Actually, there’s a reason why I put it that way,” he admits after a few beats. “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts, dear?” 

You frowned, wondering where he’s going with this, “Can’t say I do.”

“Let me guess, atheist?” 

“Agnostic.”

He smiles mirthlessly, “Well, I can’t say I believe in them either, but for the past years, I’ve been having trouble getting tenants to stay.” That piqued your curiosity.

“What do you mean, sir?” you pressed, intrigued.

“Past tenants have told me they’ve been… spooked while living in the house, like things disappearing and reappearing, or hearing footsteps and what not,” the man explains, “But I can’t say it’s true since it’s all peaceful whenever I stay here, or check up on maintenance. I’ve even had a friend stay here for a week, and nothing!"

Ah, the classic household haunting you’ve always seen in movies; missing items, heavy footsteps, the feeling of being watched. Sitting on the steps, you felt like a walking cliché; the stupid girl who goes into a large house knowing it’s haunted, wanting a taste of thrill. Yet, you can’t be bothered. You’ve always been a skeptic, a believer that science and logic can debunk these things.

“What I wanted to ask you is, would you still want to move here after all I’ve told you?” the older man asked. “I’d understand if you want to back out.”

His question shows how concerned he is about others, even if it’ll put a damper in his business. You felt lucky to have stumbled upon an honest and understanding landlord, not everyone had that privilege. But something felt off.

“I don’t understand, while I appreciate it, why do you need to disclose this, sir?” you ask, weirded out. “Isn’t it buyers beware?”

“It’s a part of the law to categorize it under ‘stigmatized’ property,” he replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you didn’t know,” he chuckled, you joined him. “So, what about it, dear?”

Stroking the cat, you thought about it. You were never a believer of ghouls nor other other-worldly beings, and you weren’t going to start now. While the presence of ghosts could never be proven or denied, you believed that every occurrence has a logical explanation, even the paranormal. You weren’t about to let go of a wonderful place just because some ghost decided to move in as well. Stigmatized or not, you’ve found yourself a good deal. The perfect start.

“Don’t worry Mr Rogers, ghosts or no, nothing's gonna stop me from living in this house,” you smiled. He returned it.

Later, after much discussion and the exchange of handshakes, you left the house with a sense of relief. Pulling out of the driveway, you waved to the older gentleman, before speeding off. 

A few metres ahead, checking in the rearview mirror, you saw Mr Rogers still standing in the driveway. 

His smile never faltered.

The next day finds you working endlessly at the clinic, meeting furry patients left and right, tending to their dilemmas. The clinic was almost never vacant, the seats occupied always leaving behind fur. To you, it has always been a fulfilling job. Sometimes you’ll get scratched, or hissed at, but at the end of the day it was always worth the care.

Lunch came a bit later. Sighing, your shoulders relaxed. After attending to a cat that decided it needed to throw a hissy fit, you really needed a break. While shovelling food into your mouth, your phone suddenly rang; Sam Wilson flashing on the screen.

“Hi, baby,” you picked up.

“Hello, baby,” came the sultry voice on the other end. “How’s my girl doin’?”

“She’s doing fine, thank you for asking,” you teased. “Why’d you call? Did something happen?”

Muffled chuckles rang through the speakers, “No, nothing happened, just wanted to know how you’re doin’. Hey, how was the house? All good?” 

“It was gorgeous! And fully-furnished too!” you replied, gleefully. “It was all antique, the master bedroom was my favourite,” and you continued telling him of everything, from the fancy parlour to the stained glass doors. Sam listened attentively, humming and responding at appropriate times. And this is why you loved him. He was always the talkative one out of you two, yet he never talked out of turn, always putting you first. “Oh, and I’ve found out why it’s so affordable.”

“Let me guess, someone died in that house?” 

You chuckled, “Close, apparently it’s ‘haunted’, ooh,” you booed. “The landlord said he had never experienced it during all his years there, nor did his friend that apparently stayed there. So it makes you wonder, if it were just stories from people paranoid about living in an old house.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam hummed. “Can’t wait to have sleepovers at your new place now.” 

You laughed, missing his dose of humour and his presence terribly. “I wished you were there with me.”

“I wished I had too, baby,” he murmured, “So when’s the moving date? Gotta put these bad boys into good use.” You heard him grunting, probably flexing his bicep from the other end. Sam’s antics always amused you. He was your happy pill.

“I told Mr Rogers —that’s the landlord— I’ll be moving in two weeks,” you explained. “Do you mind taking a day off to help me? Pretty please?”

“Anything for you, baby.” 

[house-of-unknown-horrors]

A Strange House, A Strange Tour.

It really was an unassuming house. Yellow siding slightly faded, rose bushes unkempt from lack of upkeeping, white garage door slightly mangled near the bottom. The only thing immediately odd about the place was the fact that the curb didn’t dip in front of the driveway like they tend to do. Around the back, the deck was slightly rotten, and the swamp cooler on top of the house leaked with a slight drip. But there was a small pond and a few trees. Overall, it seemed like a good house in a good neighborhood. Never mind that the road to get there was massive and maze-like, not helped by the fact that every turn in the immediate area was labeled “County Drive”. But there was an elementary school, a golf course, a country club, and no HOA, so the $2,100/month asking price for the small 4 bedroom home seemed like a good deal.

You walk up to the front door as the realtor greets you. His thin frame is tense, and he looks nervous. You brush it off. After all, everyone in this town has been kind of weird about this place, though you can’t begin to fathom why. The house looks just like any other, even if it is a little hard to tell when the place was made. The man in front of you unlocked the door, motioning for you to enter, following in behind you. He nervously clears his throat and speaks.

“Well, here we are. This place has a semi-open floor plan. As you can see, this is the living room, kitchen, and dining area…” He trailed off as he notices you looking around the room. There’s a sliding door in the dining area, clear glass indicating it leads outside. Popcorn ceiling and a slightly torn carpet in the living room. There’s a vent in the ceiling, probably for the swamp cooler. You notice the popcorn texturing around it drooping off, probably from water damage. The realtor notices your staring. “Pay no mind to that. According to the previous owners, it was there when they moved in, too. Anyway, down that hall we have the bathroom and three bedrooms. If you’ll follow me…” He walks over to the short hallway. You follow into one of the bedrooms. It’s kind of small. White painted walls and a small window bench. Not much else to look at. You follow the realtor into the next room. It’s like the first, mirrored. You fold the closet door open, revealing a heating pipe going straight through the floor and up through the roof.

“Why’s this here?” You ask the realtor, bewildered. Usually heating vents are stuffed in the corner of rooms, or even better, through the walls.

“Oh, that. The place was originally built with an unfinished basement. Best guess from us is that it was put there when one of the previous owners did some remodeling.” If you had to guess, from that answer, it seemed he didn’t really know either. “Moving on, then…” The realtor led you out of the room and into the third bedroom. It was slightly larger than the other two. The opposite wall had a sliding glass door leading to the back deck and what appears to be a support beam on the outermost edge of the ceiling. The realtor opens his mouth to speak. “Before the basement was finished, this was intended to be the Master suite.” You look around some more, and notice one of the closet doors is missing. Shelves line the wall from top to bottom. There’s marks on the wall where a clothes rail used to be, but it was taken out. The realtor finishes his spiel on office space, and leads you into the bathroom.

“Nicely decorated.” You say, upon seeing it. There’s two mirrors, one above the sink, and a larger wall mirror across from that. The tilework on the walls is intricately done. So far, it’s the only room without a coat of white paint, instead opting for a pale blue above dark brown tile. The realtor continues, leading you into the garage. It’s dingy, smells of gasoline and pond water, and you notice another door leading to the back yard. You briefly question why, and continue looking around. There’s a decently sturdy work bench, some chemicals left behind on top, and a similarly burdened simple plywood and 2-by-four shelf. You duck back inside, and the realtor leads you downstairs, fumbling with the light switch before heading down. The switch he turned on did not illuminate the staircase. “Um, isn’t there supposed to be a switch for that light?” You ask him, pointing.

“I guess, but it’s not up here.” He gets to the bottom, noticing another switch plate, and fumbling with those. None of them work, turning on and off different lights in the room. He gives up, and then notices another single switch on the opposite side of the wall, flipping it on, and at last illuminating the stairs. ��Must have hired an amateur…” he guesses, before continuing. “Well, this is the den. There’s a storage space under the stairs as well as one over here with access to utilities. And THIS,” he indicates to another door, “is the Master suite.” He opens it and leads you in, pointing out water access. You notice the light switch is halfway across the room, next to another door. He turns it on. The lights are dim and yellow. The others were much brighter than these ones. You feel a little uneasy at the strange shadows cast on the wall from the triple light fixture. The realtor opens the other door. “And here’s the Master bath… I know there’s two more doors in here, but we’ll get to those in a second. This bathroom was built as a kind of his and hers set up, as indicated by the two sinks…” The realtor rambles on as your eyes wander the room. White with pink accents, one toilet, one bathtub with shower, two sinks, and a very large wall mirror. Next to the counter is one of the doors. “So, is there two walk ins?” You ask, pointing to the doors. It wouldn’t be entirely strange, after all.

“Ah, no. There’s not.” The realtor open the door next to the sink. “This is the utility room. When they finished the basement, they had to add this door in to get to the other side of the furnace.” He opens the other door. “THIS is the walk-in closet.” It’s not terribly big, but it is deep. You notice another door inside the closet.

“Where does that lead?” You ask. The realtor nervously rubs his hands together and opens it. Bewilderment spreads across your face. A pantry. In the master closet, through the master bathroom. You notice a window. It’s cloudy and the outside is covered in dust, but if you squint just right, you can see faint lines of light. Must be under the porch, you think, as you turn from the small entryway into the larger section of the pantry. You notice a hanging light and pull the string. The light blinks on, and you look around. The realtor, behind you now, lets out a small shriek of surprise and disgust. There, chained to the floor and half rotted, it lay crumpled. You turn to the other man, ashen faced. “Was this here when your guys did their walkthrough?” The realtor stammers out his response.

“N-no sir. It wasn’t here earlier today either.” He holds his hands out in front of him defensively. “Pro-Probably just some local kids…. You know how teenagers are, right? Anyway, let’s move on, shall we?” He hurries out of the room, and you go to follow. You turn around for one last look, and the corpse, along with its chains, is gone. You walked back upstairs to the waiting realtor, and smile.

“Thank you for time, sir, but I think I’ve seen enough. Rotting deck, dripping swamp cooler on a popcorn ceiling, confusing electrical, and a strange layout all sound like a bigger headache than the asking price is worth. Not to mention, if your local teenagers break in to pull pranks like that, I’d rather find somewhere else.” The realtor looks at you, disappointment on his face, but understanding in his eyes. He looks almost relieved.

“Sorry the place wasn’t quite up to your standards. We have other homes available if your still interested in looking.” You brush the man off, bid him farewell, and get in your car, leaving the strange house on County Drive behind you, at least, for now.

[nayutai]

Royally Fucked

↝ Summary Kim Seokjin is a royal asshole. Literally. As the only heir to the throne of Cirenth he’s used to getting what he wants when he wants it. The only obstacle in his way is you, his rigidly moral assistant. He outranks you on both the social and hybrid hierarchies yet a shiver of fear runs down his spine whenever your claws come out. One rude interruption too many is the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he decides he must rid himself of you once and for all.  

↝ Warnings Jin is a dumbass, oral sex, semi-public nudity, unprotected sex (use condoms kids), dry humping, crude/foul language

↝ Word Count 14.809

One day at a time.

Your daily mantra bounces around in your brain just like it does every other morning as you give yourself one final once over in the mirror before exiting your suite. Your shoulders are squared, head held high, and your trusty iPad is in hand as you move purposefully through the service wing of the palace. It’s just after seven in the morning and as personal assistant to the crowned prince of Cirenth Kim Seokjin, it’s time to get the royal jackass started on his day.

A deep breath in and released through your mouth to steel your nerves in preparation to deal with the nuisance that is Seokjin is the last thing you do before flinging open the heavy oak door. You’re so used to him being a comatose lump in bed at this hour that the light choking noises don’t even register in your brain until you’re face with the sight of Seokjin vigorously face fucking one of the palace maids. A headache springs up behind your left eye. This is why you’re the highest paid service person in the whole palace after the head chef. Dealing with Prince Seokjin is an absolute nightmare. You wish that you could say this is the first time you’ve walked in on him performing some lewd act with one of his numerous partners but sadly it is not. However, this is the first time you’ve caught him with another member of the palace staff.

“Can you hurry it up, your highness?” You sigh with a quick glance at the apple watch strapped to your wrist. “We have a busy schedule today and we need to get going.”

Seokjin and his flavor of the morning are so shameless that they don’t even stop what they’re doing. If anything, he speeds up his thrusts into the willing mouth his erection is stuffed in. You make it a point to focus on the wall above his head to keep your eyes from wandering lower. It’s easier said than done. Seokjin might be an irritating bastard but even you must admit that he’s sinfully attractive. That primal attraction is shattered when he opens his mouth.

“Why don’t you get down here and join her? I bet I’d be coming in seconds.” He suggests much to your chagrin.

“I’d rather claw out my own intestines and eat them.” You reply quickly. Your nose wrinkling in distaste. He might be the hottest piece of ass you’ve laid eyes on but you have standards.

“Oh, come on, Kitty. A threesome might actually loosen you up some.” You can feel your claws lengthening with the urge to tear him apart at his little nickname for you but Kim Seokjin outranks you in more than just social hierarchy. As a black panther hybrid, you are far outmatched when it comes to the dragon still shallowly face fucking his human conquest.

“Camille would love some help. Wouldn’t you, pet?” He coos out. The petite maid at his feet nods as best she can in her current position. Your nose wrinkles at the way the smell of her arousal kicks up a notch.

“The only thing I’m helping Camille do is file an unemployment claim as her services will no longer be needed in the palace.” Your face is carefully devoid of emotion as that sentence makes Camille tear herself away from Seokjin.

The spot above Seokjin’s head you’ve been staring take a backseat to his saliva-covered erection bobbing in the air. Camille swats at his hands as she grovels at your feet for her job. There is not an ounce of sympathy in your heart for the young maid. Every palace employee is told upon hiring that sexual relations with members of the royal family are strictly forbidden. Few rules in this palace result in immediate termination and this one is right at the top of the list. As a recent hire, Camille shouldn’t have had time to forget that particular fact.

With a resigned sigh, you turn to open the ornate door of Seokjin’s room. Camille knows what that means. She finally drags herself off her knees to run out of the door. The heavy wood door slams shut behind her.

Most hybrids have a keen sense of smell no matter what form they’re in but dragons are a strange exception to that trend and right now you’ve never been more thankful for it. The more primal side of you is practically salivating at the sight of the sizeable appendage jutting from Seokjin’s body. You grimace internally at the gush of wetness that soaks your panties.

“Goddammit you couldn’t wait five more minutes?” Seokjin questions indignantly. He’s always been a physically expressive speaker for as long as you’ve known him. You hate it, especially now that all of his gesturing is making his softening erection wave around wildly. “Now I have to walk around with blue balls all day.”

You huff in response as you herd him towards his bathroom. “Don’t care. Now go take a shower. You’re meeting with a lot of important people today and I can’t have you smelling freshly fucked in front of foreign dignitaries.”

He mumbles something under his breath about not smelling freshly fucked if he didn’t actually get to fuck but for once you choose to not respond to him. While he’s showering, you raid his closet to find him a suit to wear for the day. You fan yourself with the sleeve of a heather gray suit that probably costs more than your healthy monthly salary. Your body temperature is already a few degrees higher than a human’s but now your body feels like a walking furnace.

The sound of the shower turning off spurs you in action. You quickly grab the gray suit you’ve been using as a makeshift fan along with a pale blue shirt and a tie to match. The clothing is carefully laid out on the bed before you disappear back into the closet for accessories. Seokjin emerges from the bathroom in a very revealing pair of black boxer briefs furiously towel drying his hair. You tell him to make it quick before disappearing out in the hallway to wait for him.

“Was firing Camille really necessary?” Seokjin asks, interrupting the peaceful quiet in the SUV. You don’t even glance up from your iPad as you continue to answer one email after another.

“Yes, sexual relations with a member of the royal family are a direct violation of the palace employment contract and results in immediate dismissal.” Had you been looking at him you would have seen the way his lips pouted. A sign that the young prince is deep in thought.

Seokjin is a vengeful man. It’s a fact of his life that he knows has gotten him into trouble more often than not. Despite how much he likes to push your buttons, he’s always made sure to never go too far or risk the harsh bite of your wrath. He might be the bigger, badder hybrid between the two of you but truth be told you scare him quite a bit. He can’t let his fear get in the way of his revenge though. You have singlehandedly cut off his access to the best pussy he’s ever encountered in the palace and that will never do. There’s a week-long summit coming up in a few days in one of the neighboring kingdoms. He decides then that he will commence his plan for revenge.

Operation: Bye Bye Kitty will soon be underway.

“Good morning, Kitty. Did you sleep well?” Jin chirps. Your icy glare doesn’t dim his megawatt smile in the slightest. The way your eyes flash that familiar gold does give him pause though as you seem to struggle to hold your tongue.

Seokjin takes a small step back when you close your eyes for a few seconds. The iPad that never seems to leave your hands is currently clutched to your chest in a death grip. Maybe kicking off his plan at five in the morning as the two of you are preparing to leave for eight o’clock flight wasn’t his best decision. In the three or so years he’s known you, you’ve never been a morning person.

“Don’t speak to me again until we land in Aurlena.” You mutter when you seem to have better control of yourself.

“But that’ll be like eight hours from now.” He protests loudly. The flight to the distant kingdom is already going to be hell as it is but not having anyone to talk to is only going to make it worse. You shut him up with one single glare that promises an untold amount of pain if he doesn’t zip it immediately.

The more animalistic side of him cringes at the way he backs down without another word but the human side of him knows he made the right decision. You’d rip him to shreds faster than he could blink if given the smallest bit of provocation and he knows it. It’s with a shudder that he notices your fingers have actually sharpened into claws. He knows you’re not usually a morning person but you’re extra irritable today. That doesn’t bode well for his plan at all.

The second the doors of the private jet open, you and Seokjin are whisked to the palace of the fairy queen who rules over the kingdom of Aurlena. A spritely host leads the two of you to the main dining hall where an extravagant brunch is being served. Summit participants are spread around at various tables talking amongst themselves over various brunch dishes.

Seokjin purposefully selects an empty table away from the crowd next to a window when the host asks if he has a preference. The view of the royal garden stretching out before them in various hues is breathtaking in its beauty. Rays of light stream through the glass and hit your profile at an angle that leaves the problematic prince speechless for a second as second thoughts run through his head. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. One snappy command to stop slouching from your pursed lips crushes that doubt to dust.

“So, what brought you to the palace?” Seokjin questions as he carefully covers his lap in one of the pristine linen napkins. You snort in response to him just as he’d expected.

“That’s a stupid question. I’m here for the same reason you are, idiot.” He has to stop himself from insulting you in turn. He can’t afford to let a single negative word pass his lips if he wants this plan to work.

“I know that but how did you end up working at the palace? Your file says you were an art student but you dropped out.” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. He’s up to something. You’re sure of it.

“Why were you reading my file?”

“Well you said I wasn’t allowed to speak on the plane so I did some reading.”

“Most people read novels not personnel files, Seokjin so cut the bullshit.” The grip you have on your fork that’s hovering above the plate of food you’ve just been served looks punishing but he powers through. He opens his mouth to point out the fact that as a crowned prince he’s most definitely not most people but he thinks better of it.

“Is it really so bad that I want to get to know you? You pick out my underwear for Christ’s sake.” He points out. You’re a woman who can appreciate an honest pursuit of knowledge and facts. Seokjin may not be all that honest about why he wants said knowledge but you don’t need to know that. You arch a brow at him as you consider his statement and for a second he’s sure that you’re going to tell him to piss off.

“My dad had a series of small strokes my senior year of college. My mom had been a housewife since I was born and they couldn’t afford to keep paying for art school so I dropped out. I knew someone who knew someone else and managed to get this job.” Seokjin is a bit taken aback. He was expecting something a bit more frivolous and a lot less traumatic. Then again, you didn’t strike him as a person that did anything frivolous.

“You’ve worked with me for what three years now? Why didn’t you ever mention this? How’s your father doing now?” He questions with rapid fire.

“I didn’t tell you because my personal life is none of your business but my dad is doing much better now. He’ll probably never be 100% but he’s still here.” A small smile graces your features as you duck your head shyly. It’s clear how much you love your father.

A strange flutter takes root in his gut at such an unfamiliar action from you. Looks like family is a soft spot for you. Maybe something happened and that’s the reason for your increased irritability this morning. Seokjin ponders that possibility for the rest of the day as he mindlessly moves through the different speakers and panel discussions for that day.

Seokjin lays in bed later that night mindlessly watching an episode of Bob’s Burgers when his mind drifts back over the events of the day. You’d been incredibly on edge this morning. So much so, that he’d toyed with the idea of postponing his evil scheme to keep from being slaughtered. He praises his own genius when he recalls a certain fact from the exhaustive personnel file he’d read on the plane. Seriously, why are they so in-depth? Why would anyone need to know your precise measurements and what color you prefer the most? He quickly reigns himself back in and grabs the phone from its cradle on the nightstand.

It rings once before someone picks up. The hotel staff member is initially hesitant to fulfill his request until Seokjin gives his room number. All hesitancy goes out the window once that tidbit of information is on the table. Whoever is on the other line must have seen exactly who’s occupying the room. He hangs up after assuring that his wishes will be granted expeditiously. Now all he has to do is wait.

You’re making last minute preparations for day two of the summit when a knock sounds through your suite. No one should be knocking on your door at this time of night unless it’s an emergency. You’re immediately thrown into crisis mode, crossing the room in four large steps. When you see the person standing on the other side of the door you wish you’d thought to grab your robe. You feel incredibly exposed in your worn, oversized t-shirt that bares the symbol of your former university and a tiny pair of shorts.

“I must say I rather like this look on you.” Seokjin says with a smirk as he squeezes by you to step into your room. He looks around observantly though there’s really no point to it. Your hotel rooms are mirror images of each other so there’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

“It’s almost one in the morning. What do you want?”

“Oh, I brought you this.” Your senses finally seem to get over the initial shock of being disturbed at this hour as he holds out a white box that you hadn’t even noticed before. The enticing smell of chocolate and hazelnut caresses your nose. As if it’ll disappear, you slowly take the proffered container before taking a seat on the edge of your bed while Seokjin cautiously does the same.

“You seemed like you were having a rough morning so I called the kitchen to have them make this for you. I know it’s your favorite.” He speaks up at your startled gasp when you open the lid to reveal a chocolate hazelnut cheesecake. Your favorite dessert.

Seokjin actually looks shy for the first time in all the years you’ve known him. One large hand rubs nervously at the back of his neck as he awaits your reaction. The tips of his ears could be confused for tomatoes with how red they are.

“I know that wasn’t in my HR file so how did you know it’s my favorite?” You question curiously around a bite of the decadent dessert. You hadn’t even bothered to cut a proper slice, opting to just dig in instead. If it weren’t for your impeccable self-control you would’ve moaned at loud and made a fool of yourself. Seokjin grabs an extra fork at your insistence and digs in right alongside you.

“You’re right it’s not, but it did say that your favorite candy is chocolate plus I noticed that the chef makes you one of these for your birthday every year.”

“How did you know that?”

“People sometimes forget that the palace is still just a really big house. I know everything that goes on in my home.”

You nod in concession to his point as you set your fork aside. It is well within your abilities to eat the whole cheesecake in one sitting. A perk of your ramped-up hybrid metabolism. However, you know that doing so will mean a sleepless night and a day of chugging coffee so as not to fall asleep.

“So,” Seokjin starts sheepishly, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You glance at him in your peripheral vision. Even fix your mouth to deny his invitation to vent. Your eyes wander to the half a cheesecake that you’d set on the nightstand and decide, what the hell? He did go to the trouble of securing your favorite dessert just because he’d realized you were upset this morning. With a heavy sigh, you scoot back so you’re leaned against the headboard.

Your bare legs are stretched out in front of you while Seokjin chooses to stretch his lanky frame across the foot of the bed, propping his head up on his hand. To an outsider, the two of you probably look like half of the Golden Girls cast spilling tea and discussing feelings over cheesecake.

“This stays between us, right?” You ask apprehensively.

“Of course, it does. Boy scout’s honor.” Seokjin beams as he holds up three fingers in salute.

“First of all, that’s the girl scout’s hand sign. Second of all, you were never a boy scout, Seokjin, so what type of honor do you even have?” You hold your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the laughter doing its best to escape.

He waves you off with a playful scoff. It feels weird. You’re about to spill your guts to the man that’s been nothing but a whiny pain in your ass for the better part of three years. This is definitely crossing a line, right? And yet you find yourself pushing that strange feeling to the side. He listens intently as you tell him about the phone call you received from your mother the night before the two of you left for Aurlena.

Simply put, your parents are on the verge of eviction. Well, they were until you’d emptied out your healthy savings account to get them current on their mortgage and keep them off the streets. That was only a temporary fix though. They still owe nearly $10,000 on their mortgage. A mortgage that they can no longer afford to keep up with though they’d never divulged that minor detail to you. Your parents are proud people. They hadn’t wanted you to drop out of school to help them, even promised to do whatever necessary to find the money to fund your last year but you couldn’t do that. Not when creditors were calling them so often that they pulled the plug for the phone out of the wall completely.

You’d taken over the medical bills when you got the job at the palace. It took over a year but you finally got them all caught up but with your dad still needing extensive medical care there would always be more. You’d tried to help your parents with their various other expenses but they assured you that everything was fine now that you’d taken away the burden that was the mountain of medical bills that had piled up at their feet. Apparently, that hadn’t been the truth. Despite your mother getting a part-time job to make some money while also taking care of your father on the days his nurse wasn’t there and his sizeable pension, it wasn’t enough to cover everything.

Seokjin’s face displays a myriad of emotions as you continue your tale. You hadn’t intended to talk this much but it’s not like you really have anyone to talk to. All of your friends from college have moved on with their lives doing god knows what so once you got started you can’t stop. The words just keep flowing and Seokjin just keeps listening.

Surprisingly, the conversation keeps flowing. The more you talk to him, the more you realize that maybe he’s not quite as much of a dickhead as you always thought. Who are you kidding? He’s definitely still a dickhead, but in a more endearing way. In other words, he’s an enigma. A glance at the digital clock nearly makes your eyes bulge out of your head. There’s no way the two of you have stayed up till nearly two in the morning just talking. You hustle him towards the door with strict instructions to go straight to bed with no pit stops and no mindless social media scrolling.

Seokjin goes willingly, giggling at your urgency the whole way. He promises not to make any “pit stops” as you so eloquently put it but both of you know he’s not going to listen.

The second he’s back in his room, he’s digging his laptop out of his suitcase. He opens a fresh word document and brands it with the title of his brilliant plan. His fingers dance across the keyboard as he documents the events of the day. He types a few notes. Makes a few observations. The key to a successful outcome will be keeping track of what works and what doesn’t. A lingering sense of guilt creeps up on him but he shakes it off, typing a final note to pen a glowing recommendation letter for your future employment endeavors. He might be about to get you fired but he’s not so much of an asshole to leave you at the mercy of the world with no job, especially after everything you’d told him tonight.

*   *   *

The next morning finds you wide awake and fidgety. You’d chased sleep for hours but your brain refused to power down. Your conversation with Seokjin kept replaying over and over in your head. What would be the consequences of telling him such intimate details of your life like that? You weren’t foolish enough to believe that there wouldn’t be any. Seokjin did nothing that didn’t benefit him in some way so he has to have some ulterior motive for suddenly being so nice and attentive.

Your fists are clenched tightly in the expensive sheets of your bed. Last night was a mistake. You’ve always prided yourself on being a logical person and yet, there was nothing logical about telling your boss all about your present hardships. The thought of what this could mean for your future made you queasy. After giving up on sleep, you’d spent the last few hours before your alarm goes off making sure that your resume is absolutely flawless. If you’re going to be unemployed, you need to make sure that you far outshine your competition in the job market. You can’t afford to go without a job considering that your savings account currently has nothing but the mandatory $20 that the bank requires for the account to remain open. Your checking account is nearly just as empty. You’d had to hit it up too and pay day is still a little over a week away.

It nearly takes an act of God for you to raise your fist to knock on Seokjin’s room door. He answers with a blinding smile that calms you for some strange reason. He’s dressed in the sleek navy blue you’d selected for the day. You can’t help but admire the way the tailor-made jacket highlights his broad shoulders with perfection.

“You ready?” Seokjin asks interrupting a bout of silence that you hadn’t even realized had stretched between the two of you.

“Oh…yes after you.” You step aside and dutifully follow him towards the elevator. A yawn slips out despite your best efforts to hold it in. If you make it through this day, it’ll be a miracle.

Your phone rings with a call from your mother as the elevator descends smoothly to the first floor. You ignore it the first time but the second? The second one you answer. She never calls twice in a row like this unless a crisis is underway.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” You ask, concern heavily laced through your words. Your worry only intensifies as you pick up on small sniffs and hiccups coming from the other end of the line.

She tearfully retells the reason for her emotional phone call. A phone call from the bank holding your parents’ mortgage. According to the bank representative, their mortgage is now all paid up and they should be expecting a certified packaged with the deed to the house in a few business days.

The elevator is cruising past the fifteenth floor while your jaw has already reach the lobby. This can’t be real life. The bank must have made some cruel accounting error. Your mind is already whirling with the different phone calls you’re going to have to make to get to the bottom of this as your mom continues to sob her thanks. It takes several attempts but you finally get her off the phone. Now the real work of solving this dilemma while also fulfilling your work obligations can begin.

“You’re welcome.” You jump as Seokjin speaks out of nowhere. Oftentimes you forget that while his senses aren’t as strong in human form as yours are, he can still hear better than the average human. But that would mean…

“You didn’t.” You accuse with narrowed eyes. The fool next to you apparently has more money than sense if he truly did what he’s claiming.

“Oh, but I did.”

“Well undo it. I don’t have that kind of money. I can’t pay you back.” The elevator dings as the door slide open in the opulent hotel lobby. Seokjin faces straight ahead, striding confidently towards the SUV waiting to deliver the two of you to the palace for another day of panel discussions and seminars.

He faces you for the first time as he waits for the driver to open the car door. “I don’t recall asking to be repaid, Kitty.” The look in his eyes nearly takes your breath away. No one has ever looked at you with this much…sincerity? You can’t really put your finger on exactly what it is you see in his eyes but it makes your gut twist up in knots.

“I can’t-” Your words are cut off by a yawn that refuses to be suppressed. You soon realize that it doesn’t matter anyway because Seokjin has absolutely no plans to listen to your protests.

The man next to you hums in approval when one of the security guards up front lowers the security screen and passes two cups of coffee to Seokjin. Your eyes widen for the hundredth time since you walked out of your hotel room when he hands one of the piping hot cups to you. He winks at you annoyingly before taking a sip of the scalding liquid. It always irks you when he flexes on you like that. Stupid dragons and their stupid immunity to extreme heat. You, on the other hand, have to wait for the coffee to cool off before you can drink it.

“Thank you.” You whisper into your coffee.

“Anything for you, Kitty.”

Surprisingly, the rest of the seminar passes in much of the same fashion. Seokjin continues to do little things here and there to get on your good side. He even shows up for more late night conversations a few times. Each time feels like an episode of The Golden Girls as the two of you laugh and talk about life over hulking slices of cheesecake. You’re still not entirely sure of his motive but it’s not like you’re in the position to turn down his olive branch of friendship. Being his assistant hasn’t left you much time for a social life. You’re so far removed from your old friend groups that you’re not even sure they still consider you their friend at this point.

You’d thought that things would go back to normal when your plane touched down in Verus but Seokjin is only too happy to prove you wrong. He greets you like an old friend during his routine wakeup call the next morning. Warm embrace and all. You stand stiff-armed and in shock until he physically places your arms around his neck. Your mind is frantic as you try to figure out how to respond. Part of you wants to melt into his arms but that’s dangerous territory. That type of thinking could lead to feelings that you can’t afford to feel. A protest is on the tip of your tongue but Seokjin releases you before you can voice it. A genuine smile lights up his face as he takes a step back from you.

“A hug a day keeps the wrinkles away,” He announces as he smooths out your furrowed brow. You weren’t even aware that you were frowning. “and you’re much too pretty for wrinkles so I expect a hug every morning. It’s my royal degree.”

In true Seokjin fashion, he doesn’t give you a chance to argue with him. He simply disappears into the bathroom and hops in the shower. Still in a daze, you set about picking out his suit for the day. You’re going through his accessories looking for a particular set of cufflinks when Seokjin’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you. He’s entirely too close to you if the closeness of his voice is anything to go by. You hadn’t even registered the sound of the shower turning off nor the bathroom door opening. When you turn around to chastise him for scaring you, you fervently wish for a sink hole to open up beneath your feet and send you plummeting towards the Earth’s core.

Seokjin stands before you in all of his freshly showered glory. Hair dripping, skin flushed and damp, and a towel slung dangerously low around his waist. Saliva pools in your mouth at the devastating sight of him. You nearly say fuck the consequences and launch yourself at him but your last ounce of resolve keeps your muscles locked in place.

“Sorry. Forgot my underwear.” The cocky devil in front you reaches for a shelf down by your hip to grab a pair of the overpriced Balenciaga boxer briefs that he’s partial to. He normally keeps a stock of underwear in his bathroom so that he can just get dressed when he comes out but it would appear that isn’t the case for today.

“I’m going to kill him.” You announce to the row of suit jackets by your head. Fists clenched at your sides as you fight for control. Your more primitive side is fighting to get out and answer the sexual challenge that Seokjin has laid before you but the human in you would rather die than give into your animalistic urges and risk everything you’ve worked for. Rational thought must take precedent here.

Jin’s flirtatious demeanor continues throughout the day in the form of random compliments and acts of kindness. A large part of the day is taken up by a mandatory appearance at an outdoor festival with his parents. The sun is shining brightly and Seokjin takes every chance he gets to tell you how you look like a “sun-kissed goddess”. You have an overwhelming urge to smack him every time he opens his mouth to say it. A waitress accidentally spills a drink down your back and he doesn’t hesitate a single second before he’s taking off his blazer to wrap it around your shoulders. A blazer that you know for a fact costs more than your entire monthly salary.

You’re not sure why he’s being so different but you can’t find it within yourself to complain either. Jin, as he now insists that you call him, is a lot more receptive to your instructions which in turn makes your job less of a headache. The constant compliments don’t hurt either. However, it’s when you start to look forward to them every day that you realize that maybe you’re not as immune to him as you’d once thought. Jin picks up on the subtle shift in your attitude as well. You smile more now and it makes his heart do jumping jacks every time. These days his plan of action has taken a back seat and every word out of his mouth is now a genuine effort to get you to bless him with even the smallest of grins.

You can feel Jin’s eyes on you as your fingers fly across the screen of your tablet. He’s inches away from you in the back seat of the SUV currently returning both of you to the palace after a long day of public appearances. Part of you yearns to know what’s going on in that head of his but you don’t want to push him. This…thing between the two of you is strange to say the least. You’ve long accepted that you have less than platonic feelings for him but that pesky employment clause in a mountain in your path. Besides, there’s no way that Jin feels the same way about you. He’s always had a thing for those traditionally beautiful girls that seem to draw people into them with their mere presence. You wish you could say that was you but you know it’s not

“I like you.” Jin interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts as if you had spoken them out loud. Your eyes fly to his, wide open. The shocked expression is identical to the one you’re sure that paints your own face as if that little sentence wasn’t meant to be said aloud.

“What did you just say?” You ask strictly for clarification purposes because there’s no way in hell he just said that.

He takes a deep breath, scooting closer to you. “I like you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as he repeats himself in a soft voice that is just so unlike the loud, animated man you’re used to. He’s practically folded in on himself as if he’s preparing himself for rejection. You realize then that you weren’t the only one harboring feelings that you thought could never be reciprocated.

His words embolden you to finally act on your own repressed feelings. You completely close the little remaining distance between the two of you, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I like you too.”

His lanky frame tenses up as he searches your face for any hint of a lie. He’s visibly relieved when he doesn’t find it. Smoke billows out of his nostrils and a shiver of fear runs the length of your spine. You’ve never personally seen a dragon hybrid shift but in all of the movies they always blow smoke out of their noses like this right before they transform into their more powerful form. You’d like to not be intimately pressed against Jin in the back of an SUV if he’s about to turn into a twenty-foot beast.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to shift.” Jin assures you and at this point you’re convinced that he’s reading your mind. “Dragon hybrids do this whenever we feel extreme emotion.”

You nod in understanding but you move over a few inches just in case while he cracks his window to air the car out. A small squeal totally unbefitting the unflappable persona that you’ve carefully crafted escapes you when Jin suddenly unhooks your seatbelt and lifts you into his lap. He tugs your iPad away from you with a sudden show of strength, carelessly tossing it to the floorboards on what was your side of the car.

When he runs his nose along the column of your neck, your breath seizes up in your chest. You want this. God, you really, really want this but you know that it’s against the rules. Losing this cushy position would be devastating in more ways than one. It’s with a heavy heart that you not so effortlessly extricate yourself from Jin’s grasp to slide off his lap.

Your apparent rejection stings if his hurt facial expression is anything to go by. As you reach down for your iPad, you purposefully avoid his prying gaze. You know that if you look into his eyes you’ll break. Jin has other plans as he gently cups your jaw, turning you to face him. The warm chocolate of his eyes somehow calms you while also kicking your pulse into overdrive. You’ve never met a man who had such a dizzying effect on you before.

“Let me in, Kitty.” You’re not sure when his face had gotten so close to yours but his full lips just barely graze yours with every word. A frustrated growl rumbles in your chest as you lurch forward before jerking yourself back. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“Please, I can’t go on without knowing what kissing you is like. Even if it’s only once.” His voice is gruff. Hands gripping your waist as if you’re the one thing keeping him grounded.

Fuck it.

Smoke clouds around the two of you once more as your lips dance the timeless waltz of lovers. His tongue slips into your mouth with ease. His lips are gentle yet insistent as they move against yours. In that moment, you know that this is what it’s like to fly.

Seokjin curses as he powers through one last set of bicep curls. The heavy barbell in his hand drops to the floor with a loud bang that seems to echo around the room. His eyes burn from the sweat that’s pouring off of him but he doesn’t even bother to wipe his face. Instead, he opts to just push his hair away from his forehead and keep it moving.

He would normally take this cool off period to admire his progress in the mirrors that line one wall but he can’t even bring himself to look at his own reflection right now. He turns one of the treadmills so that it’s facing a non-reflective surface and hops on, cranking it up as fast as he can handle. His chest feels tight thought it’s not from a lack of air but rather it’s the heavy weight of guilt constricting his lungs.

Kissing you hadn’t been on his list of things to do today. Neither was spilling his guts in your lap about his feelings either. The words had burst forth before he could even think about stopping them. Seokjin couldn’t help the small smile that curved the corners of his lips at the memory of you confessing that you felt the same way.

His smile becomes a frown when that gnawing sense of guilt eats at him again. He’d documented the kiss in his log out of habit. It had just become routine for him to write down every little interaction that could be deemed less than appropriate. He pushes himself faster on the treadmill. His heart yearns for you to be his without the cloud of his false pretenses looming over him. Seokjin had originally thought that kissing you would be torture because he’d never be able to get enough and he was right. What he didn’t anticipate is that he’d feel this bad about it.

His mind wanders back to that incriminating document on his laptop. He doesn’t really know why he still has it or why he still updates it. Seokjin gave up on his plan to get Kitty fired a while ago but this weird relationship that’s not quite a relationship could end tomorrow if you wanted it to and he’d rather not rely on his own memories to remember you. The mere thought of you finding out his secret makes him physically ill. He lurches from the treadmill, collapsing into a heap on the floor. He’s fucked and royally so. Pun intended.

The days seem to blur together as time goes by. As he’d expected, Seokjin finds it damn near impossible to keep his hands and lips to himself. You’ve given up on wearing lipstick at this point. It’s practically become routine for him to lift you into his lap and attach his lips to yours the second the door of the SUV is shut behind him.

Today is no different. The driver hasn’t even made it back into his seat yet and Jin’s hands are already on you. Normally, you’re just sat across both of his legs but apparently, that’s not doing it for him anymore. He positions your knees on either side of his body as he does his absolute best to ruin you. Your pencil skirt is bunched up around the tops of your thighs just barely covering your lower half.

The shock wears off in the time it takes for the driver to put the car in drive. Your fingers are buried in his hair, tugging at the soft strands when he forces your hips to rock against his own. The bulge in his slacks brushes perfectly against your clit on every roll of your hips against his lap. He swallows your moans greedily, refusing to detach your lips from his. The car hits a bump in the road that causes the two of you to bounce a bit and results in your hips coming down with enough force to have you biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Jin is unfazed. Instead, he thrusts his upwards in time with the continuous rocking motion of your hips. The rising pressure in your nether regions indicating that you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm snaps you out of the sexual haze he’s dragged you into.

“Stop.”

Though it’s the last thing he wants to do, Seokjin ceases all movement at your whispered command. You escape from his lap and put as much distance as you possibly can between you and the virile man next to you. Your fingers shakily redo the buttons on your blouse. You don’t even know when they’d come undone in the first place. The iPad that’s normally glued to your hand is nowhere to be found. After a few minutes of desperate searching, you find it has slid under your seat and into the trunk area of the SUV. Jin lets out a pained groan at the sight of your perky ass in the air when you lean over the back of the seat to reach your device.

You’re all business when you return to a seated position. If it weren’t for the fact that there’s a few strands of hair that’s been tugged out of your bun there’d be no way to tell you’d just been engaged in a heated make out session in the backseat of a car. A few coughs to clear your throat has you back to normal so you launch into a breakdown of an upcoming conference that the two of you will be attending in a few short days. Jin had forgotten all about the small healthcare summit. He hates that he has to attend these things but if it means getting uninterrupted he’ll gladly suffer through whatever hell is in store for them.

Seokjin has his ear pressed against the door connecting your room to his listening to you move around as you get ready for bed. He’d been ecstatic when you’d arrived at the hotel to find that the hotel had messed up the room reservation in such a manner. It felt like the universe was rewarding him for some good deed. He feels like such a creep right now though as he practically strains his ears to pick up on every little sound you make. His normal confident demeanor has deserted him just as it has the two previous nights. This is his last chance to finally buck up and make his move. With one final mental shove, he raises his fist to gently knock on the door.

His lungs practically collapse when you open the door. There’s no sight that he loves more than you in your after hours state clad in the baggy sweatshirts and tiny shorts combo he’s learned that you favor. Your hair released from the strict bun you wear daily per palace guidelines. Face free of makeup and exposing the small beauty mark on your top lip. Nothing could make it better except for maybe the smile currently stretching across your face.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to finally knock. I guess third time really is the charm, huh?” Shit how did you know that he’s been wussing out like some kind of coward every night? Must be a panther thing. At least he hopes it’s a panther thing because it would be really creepy otherwise.

“I-uh” Jin finds himself suddenly at a loss for words. He’d planned out exactly how he’d wanted this to go but now that you’re in front of him he’s at a loss.

“Relax, babe. I only bite on request.” Jin feels himself melt at the way your tongue teasingly pokes out between your teeth. He doesn’t protest being dragged into your room, shutting the door behind him.

“So, what’s up? It’s getting late and we have to be up early tomorrow.” You continue moving around the room laying out your clothes for tomorrow and going over tomorrow’s itinerary one final time.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about.” Jin trails off as he tries to carefully choose his words in his head before saying them. You arch an eyebrow in question when you face him, taking in the way he’s nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. Your heart softens at the sight.

Jin’s eyes are trained on his feet with embarrassment because of his inability to collect his thoughts around you. He hears rather than sees you approach him; therefore, missing the loving smile on your face. Your arms snake around his slender waist, cheek resting against his firm chest. His own arms find their way around your shoulders as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo. Holding you like this will never get old for him and he’s reluctant to let go so he doesn’t.

“Can I sleep here tonight? With you.” He mumbles into the top of your head.

“Only if you give me a kiss first.” Jin can’t help but to laugh at the cute way you tilt your head back, full lips puckered up and demanding to be kissed. He’s quick to oblige your request.

Neither of you are really sure how, but what was a playful kiss mean to calm his nerves escalates into something much more. Your clothes and his fall soon litter the floor as you hastily undress each other. Jin’s lips only detach themselves from yours long enough to remove your sweatshirt. His own shirt doesn’t receive the same standard of care as he opts to rip the plain white tee down the middle instead.

His erection presses against your abdomen as he walks you backwards to the bed. Your hands wander the broad planes of shoulder blades as he blesses you with his weight. He encourages your legs to wrap around his waist, hips grinding against your own. The engorged head of his erection sends shockwaves of pleasure shooting through you until you're sure that you're teetering on the edge of insanity.

Euphoria spreads through your bloodstream when Jin finally begins inching his way inside you. He bottoms out with a grunt, sucking on your collarbone. His fingers slide up your arms, interlocking with yours as he pins your hands next to your head. Pressure is rapidly building in your gut with each purposeful grind of his hips. It's not long before you're tumbling over the edge with Jin following closely behind you.

You brush Jin's sweaty fringe away from his forehead. You can feel his lips curve into a smile against his chest when you sweetly kiss his forehead. He tightens his arms around you before rolling off to the side. The loss of his body heat makes sure shiver. You immediately turn to cuddle into his side, whining when he detaches your arms from his torso.

“Go pee.” Seokjin instructs with finality as he rolls you towards the edge of the bed. “Vaginal health is important.”

“Well you’re gonna have to carry me because I can’t exactly feel my legs right now.”

“With pleasure, my dear.” He rounds the bed and lifts you into his arms. He rambles the whole time about how this is totally contradictory to every fairytale ever.

You shut him up with a kiss when you’re both settled under the covers. He kisses your nose once, twice, three times before you finally shove him away from you and turn your back to him. Jin pulls you flush against him, leaving a lingering kiss on your shoulder. Sleep draws his eyes closed faster than he would like. He’d intended to truly savor the moment before travelling to dream land.

A pleasant soreness flares in your limbs as you stretch in the warm rays of the morning sun shining through the curtains. Jin grumbles out a protest at all your movement. His arms flail around lazily as he tries to restrict any further movement. You melt against him and allow yourself a few more minutes of solace wrapped in Jin’s strong arms. It’s when your third and final alarm goes off that you force yourself out of his grip and push him towards his own room.

He goes grudgingly and even puts up a fight at the door. The scaly bastard refuses to even touch the door knob until you give him a kiss. You attempt to scold him for being difficult but the amused grin that you try so hard to hide makes an appearance anyway, effectively negating your words. Of course, he takes advantage of the situation and turns what was meant to be a quick peck to get his ass in gear into a full make-out session. It takes all of your will power to separate yourself from him so that the two of you can finally get dressed but you manage somehow.

As per usual, you are showered and dressed faster than his royal slowness next door. You’ve committed the day’s itinerary to memory but you decide to check it again just to be sure you’re aware of every closing event Jin needs to attend. After inputting your passcode, you expect for your home screen to appear on your tablet but nothing happens. Your heart seizes in your chest and you immediately feel bereft. Trying to function without your tablet would be like asking you to fly and unlike Jin you are unable to sprout wings and take to the skies.

“No, no, no don’t do this to me now.” You exclaim as your beloved iPad doesn’t respond at all to your frantic stabs at the screen. No matter what you do it won’t unfreeze. You panic as your brain runs through your options. Diddly squat is what your brain conjures up as a solution. You can’t function without the summit itinerary and your tablet is holding it hostage.

Just then, you remember that you emailed a copy of it to Jin right after you’d received it from the Council after confirming Jin’s attendance. Thanks to your feline reflexes you’re across the room and flinging open the connecting door in a flash. You breathe a sigh of relief when you spot his laptop charging on his bedside table. However, that relief is short-lived when you realize that you have no idea what his password is. The sound of roaring water tells you he’s in the shower so you’re on your own. If Jin is anything he is vain and predictable so it shouldn’t be too hard to guess his password. When the sleek machine accepts PrinceJin1 on your second attempt you can’t help the small smile that lifts the corners of your lips.

The screen opens up to the word document he’d last been working on. With any hope, it’s his speech for the royal banquet next week but knowing him he’ll blow it off and pull something out of his ass on the spot. You’re about to minimize it to open the browser when a sentence in the middle of the page catches your eye.

3/20 – Kissed Kitty in the SUV on the way back to the palace

Your lungs seize up as you scroll through the extensive document. Every kiss. Every touch. Every whispered word is documented up until a few weeks ago. When you reach the top only to see the words Operation: RIP Kitty, it’s all you can do to hold back the tears threatening to burst forth. Your thoughts are a frantic, jumbled mess as they buzz around your brain like a hoard of frenzied bees. The sound of the shower turning off doesn’t even register until Jin is stepping out of the bathroom in a towel. The sight of his bare torso glistening with drops of water would normally melt you into a pool of whimpering desire but now all you feel is pure rage. His heart sinks when he sees you seated on the edge of his hotel bed holding his laptop in a death grip.

“I can explain.” He feels physically sick when you level your gaze at him. Looking into your eyes is one of his favorite things to do in the world but right now he wishes that you would look anywhere but at him.

He’s always said that you’re scariest when you’re angry but now he realizes that’s not true. Anger is an emotion. One he’s learned to deal with from you over the time he’s known you. You’re an open book and have never been shy about expressing your emotions so the fact that you’re now purposefully reigning that in to show this blank mask that’s on your face now shakes him to his core.

“I’ve always thought your brain was underdeveloped and this just confirms it.” You state calmly as you set the laptop back on the table where you’d found it.

“Babe,” You cringe outwardly at his use of such an endearing term. “I know this looks bad but-”

“Save it, Seokjin. I don’t need an explanation from you nor do I particularly want one.” He flinches at your harsh tone as you rise from your spot on his bed. Panthers are warm-blooded animals but your words are frosty. He hasn’t heard his full name come you’re your mouth in weeks and hearing it just now made him ache in a strange way.

Jin closes his eyes as you make your way back to your room. The sight of you walking away from him is more than he can take. He flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut. The finality of it sends a sharp pain shooting through his chest that nearly brings him to his knees.

He tries throughout the day to explain himself, but you are having none of it. You barely cast even a glance in his direction unless it’s absolutely necessary to do so. Sure, you make nice for appearances but your smile never reaches your eyes. Your irises that normally capture and mold rays of light into shooting stars look flat and lifeless. It kills him to know that he did that.

The next morning, Seokjin is already awake when you come to wake him up. Not that he ever actually went to sleep in the first place. Your jaw is set as your eyes look him up and down contemptuously. He’s on his feet in an instant, reaching out for you. The hiss you let out as you snatch away from him feels like a stab to the heart. Your eyes are glowing that tell-tale golden hue of your inner panther.

“Touch me again and I’ll rip your throat out. Crown be damned.” Your words are clipped and slurred as your teeth lengthen to their feline length. He’s never seen you lack this much control over yourself but it’s not like he can blame you. He broke your heart and he’s come to realize that he’s broken his own in the process.

Seokjin drags himself to the shower. The sound of the rushing water almost completely masks the sounds of his sobbing but you hear him anyway as you lay out his suit for today. You shove your fist in your mouth to keep from falling down the same rabbit hole. You’re absolutely miserable but the person you would normally go to for comfort is the cause of your anguish.

If Seokjin had thought you were frigid before, he’s sure that modern scientists haven’t even discovered temperatures as cold as the vibes you’re giving off now. When the two of you returned to Verus he had halfway expected for you to resign. That would’ve been so easy. At least then he wouldn’t have to look at you every day and be reminded of how stupid he’d been. He wouldn’t have to be reminded of the fact that he’d lost the best thing that ever happened to him through his own idiocy. But no one pays better than the palace so you need this job and he knows it.

Losing you has affected Seokjin in every aspect of his life. He can’t eat. He barely sleeps. It’s a struggle to face the world every day. A week and a half into your freeze out and Seokjin is ready to launch himself off a cliff. He normally looks forward to Sundays as they are his only free days but now? Now he rejects the laziness of the day. At least when he’s got a schedule packed full of appearances and other princely duties he has something other than his own misery to focus on.

“So, when are you and that assistant of your going to kiss and make up?” Seokjin freezes with his glass of apple juice resting against his bottom lip at his father’s question. Guessing that he’s been in a funk is one thing but there’s no way that his parents could possibly know what’s been going on between the two of you. He carefully sets his glass down, contemplating the best response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, father.” Seokjin answers coyly. His eyes get impossibly wider when his mother snorts in response.

They know. He’s not sure how or when they found out but they know. It had to have been recently because they would’ve definitely fired you already if they’d known before now. His heart skips a few beats as he considers what this means for you. The King and Queen have always been sticklers for the rules. They hardly ever make exceptions for anyone, including their only son. Yet, he still readies himself for battle. He couldn’t save your heart but the least he can do is save your job.

“You think we don’t know what goes on around here? The palace is still just a house.” His mother remarks after a spoonful of yogurt. Seokjin hangs his head.

“How long have you known?” He asks woefully.

“Hmm, how long would you say it’s been, sweetheart?” His father asks of his mother. Had he been in a more positive state of mind, Seokjin may have picked up on the lighthearted tone in the King’s voice.

“At least a month, darling.” His head snaps up incredulously. His parents have known for an entire month that he’s been sneaking around with you and yet they said nothing? Not a single word?

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought this was against some stupid rule?”

“It is, dear.” His mother chimes in. “We wanted her gone the second we found out but then we saw just how much you seemed to blossom. You were happy and it showed.” She reaches across the table to take her son’s hand in hers, stroking her thumb across his knuckles.

“We’re your parents before we’re monarchs and we just couldn’t take that kind of joy away from you.” Seokjin feels like he’s about to choke on the knot in his throat. Unfortunately, their words of acceptance are too little too late. You want absolutely nothing to do with him and now and he can’t even blame you.

“Plus, she’s the only assistant that could keep your chaotic ass in line. We would’ve been fools to fire her.” The king lets out a rumbling belly laugh at his own “joke”. Seokjin almost cracks a smile along with him. Almost.

“That’s because she’s terrifying but I liked it. Loved it even.” This is the first time that Seokjin has admitted the true depth of his feelings out loud. His already shattered heart cracks just a little more at the thought of his first love despising him.

“Go to her son.” His mother’s urging prompts a small huff of laughter from Seokjin but there’s not a shred of humor in it whatsoever. He tilts his head up towards the ornate ceiling of the dining room, doing his best to keep the tears at bay.

“I can’t do that.” He whispers thickly as he slowly pulls his hand from his mother’s warm embrace. “Going through that type of rejection twice might actually kill me.”

Seokjin excuses himself from the table politely. He wanders around aimlessly until he finds himself in one of the many palace gardens. A swear falls from his lips as he realizes that he’s ended up in the millennium garden. Gardenias of all kinds had been carefully curated and arranged into this breathtaking display to commemorate the millennium mark of his family’s rule. You’d mentioned once that out of all the palace gardens this one was your favorite. According to you, the air smelled sweeter here.

Smoke pours from his nostrils and he suddenly feels like he’s suffocating. His jeans and sweatshirt are a thing of the past as twenty feet of scales and fire take the place of the man that had stood at the edge of this garden. Seokjin can’t even remember the last time he’d been able to shift. It always seemed like he never had the time to revel in this form. He heaves a mental sigh of relief as he stretches out his wings and takes to the sky. The citizens far beneath him are probably taking to the streets to witness the rare sight of his midnight black form slicing through the sky.

He’s not sure where he’s going, just letting the wind beneath his wings steer him through the clouds. The Traiya mountain range looms closer and closer and for a second he contemplates letting himself crash into the rocky mountain face. That thought is squashed as quickly as it pops up. In its place, his parents’ words play on repeat. Go to her. If only he could. He doesn’t miss the way you look physically distressed every time you’re in the same room with him as if his mere presence makes you sick.

Seokjin lands in a clearing at the base of the mountain range. He shifts back to his biped form so as not to scare the wildlife and ventures into the forest in front of him. His eyes drift closed after he drops to the ground beneath a large oak tree. A small creek cuts its way through the earth. The sounds of the forest around him soothe the ache in chest even if only a little bit.

When he opens his eyes again, he notices a squirrel scouring the branches of a tree off to his right for nuts. Most of the wildlife has vacated this part of the forest after sensing Seokjin’s presence but this squirrel is on a mission that no dragon will prevent him from carrying out. The small animal seems to be inspecting each one he happens across until he finds the perfect one. Seokjin is intrigued by the picky, little rodent. So many suitable acorns and yet the squirrel passes them by after quick sniff. He walks along several branches before he finally finds one that makes him pause. Seokjin calls upon his enhanced vision and he’s shocked to see that the acorn the squirrel has set his picky sights on really isn’t all that special. He’s passed up bigger, surely more satisfying, acorns on his quest to find this one. Plus, his nut of choice looks to be slightly out of reach. That doesn’t deter the tiny rodent in the least.

Seokjin watches with rapt attention as the determined squirrel tries its hardest to grab the acorn it has its sights set on. The small animal keeps trying and trying to the point that Seokjin is contemplating getting up to get the damn acorn for it just to save the poor animal the trouble. No sooner has he shifted to stand something damn near miraculous happens. The squirrel’s outstretched class finally grip the acorn in their clutches. It tucks the nut in its cheeks before darting off to God only knows where not realizing that it has just shifted Seokjin’s entire world view.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He says out loud to the quiet forest around him.

Your heart is racing like a speeding bullet train as your feet carry you towards Seokjin’s door. You have always prided yourself on being an unwavering, unflappable force but that girl is nowhere to be found. Today, you’re a girl with everything to lose. Your heart is on the line now and you doubt that the tape you’d put on the deep fissures snaking through your will hold if this conversation doesn’t go well.

As you knock on the door, you still don’t really know what you’re doing here. When Jin had texted you quite literally begging for a few minutes of your time, you’d turned him down without a second thought. You were convinced that you didn’t want to hear anything he had to say and yet here you are.

Seokjin flings open the door before your arm has even had time to return to your side. After years of being his right hand you can tell when he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s nervous. You easily pick out each of his tells with ease as you observe him quietly, starting with the tips of ears that have turned an astonishing shade of red.

“You came.” He breathes out almost in disbelief. Seokjin looks disheveled to put it lightly and in some twisted way it makes you happy that you’re not the only one that’s been suffering since what happened.

“I told you I would.” You answer lowly. He nods, stepping aside to let you into his room.

The normally immaculate space is a mess with pieces of paper covering seemingly every available surface. You take a glance at a few of them to see various versions of what looks like a letter. A letter of apology at that. You take a deep, ragged breath as you turn back to face him. Seokjin almost looks small as he wrings his hands together.

“I was-…I tried to put my thoughts on paper but everything was just…” He trails off once more as his thumb nail becomes trapped between his teeth. You yearn to gently smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead. But you’re not about to let him sense that the soft spot you’d developed for him is still intact. If he wants your forgiveness – forgiveness that you’re still not sure you’re interested in giving – then he’s going to have to work for it. Hard.

He clears off a chair for you to sit on so you carefully perch yourself on the edge of it. Your confusion shoots through the roof when Seokjin kneels at your feet. You’ve never seen him kneel for anyone ever. Part of you wants to make him get up just to make this awkward feeling go away but he starts speaking before you can say anything.

“I’m a gigantic dumbass.” Prince Seokjin? Admitting he’s wrong? Those two phrases have never been uttered in such close proximity before because Seokjin is never wrong. It’s always someone else’s fault. To hear him taking accountability for his disastrous choices is actually terrifying. He must be feverish or something.

Before you can stop yourself, you touch the back of your hand to his forehead. His face is flushed but he’s not running a fever. You check his cheeks just to be sure. He leans into your touch, eyes drifting shut. Your breath catches in your throat at how vulnerable he looks like this. The urge to softly stroke his cheek is too strong for you to resist. His hand is warm around your wrist when he detaches your hand from his face.

“I have a hard enough time thinking around you as it.” He offers as an explanation. Your face must have been a picture of confusion. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”

As promised, you hear him out. He keeps expecting you to interrupt him as he lays everything out on the table but you don’t say a word. You sit primly on the edge of the chair with your hands neatly folded. He’s not even really sure you’re listening from the way your eyes are unfocused and seemingly staring at nothing but your facial expressions give you away. Your features move through a myriad of different emotions as Seokjin exposes his sins. You remain silent even after he finishes. Fear seizes in his heart as your face is wiped clean just as it was on the day you first learned of his transgressions.

“Please say something.” He begs. He reaches out a hand to touch your own but stops midair when your hone in on his hand as if it’s a direct threat to your physical safety. Seokjin quickly retracts his would be olive branch. It’s quiet a few moments more before you finally speak up.

“Was any of it real?” You question accusingly. He opens his mouth to say every single second with you was real but that’s a lie and he’s in deep shit as it. Better to tell the truth than to dig himself into an even deeper whole.

“At first, no but when we went to that summit in Aurlena I was so focused on finding your soft spots that I didn’t realize I was falling for all of your little intricacies until it was too late.” Jin pauses to gauge your response but you say nothing. Your eyes are actually focused on his face now though so he takes that as a positive sign and soldier on.

“It wasn’t even extravagant gestures that I fell for. It was the small smile you do every time you talk about something your passionate about. It was the way your nose scrunches up when you’re thinking. It was the way you go out of your way to help others even if they don’t notice or even appreciate what you’re doing.”

Your mouth opens as if you have something you want to say but Seokjin is on a roll that cannot be stopped. He raises a single finger as he continues his spiel.

“I don’t know much but what I do know is that somewhere in the process of all this bullshit I fell in love with you. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after everything I’ve done but I just needed to tell you this.”

“Even after everything you did, I think I love you too and I can’t fucking stand that.” You rise from the chair, arms wrapped around yourself as if you’re trying to hold your emotions together. Seokjin follows behind you like a lost puppy to the large bay windows that take up most of one wall.

“Doesn’t matter how I feel anyway though. I need this job more than I need a relationship and, unfortunate as it may be, I can’t have both. We’ve been pushing our luck with getting caught and I can’t keep putting my work at risk like this.”

“I could take care of you. I’m sure that you’re well aware that I’m rich.”

“I’m not some trophy wife that you can just throw money at to keep happy. I’m glad that we had this talk but I’m leaving now.” Seokjin nearly combusts into flames then and there. You infuriate him to no end. Here he is laying his heart and his money at your feet and you’d still rather throw yourself on a dagger out of some goddamn sense of pride. It makes his head spin.

“If I could work out a way for you to have both, would you do it.” Seokjin asks just as you reach the door. The short hesitation before you answer gives him hope for something good.

“Maybe.” With that final parting word, you slip out into the hallway.

A week crawls by and Seokjin doesn’t breathe a word about whatever plan he’s concocting this time. The thought of what he could possibly come up with in that wild brain of his is almost scary. You still perform your duties as his assistant flawlessly but he does his best to trip you up. A whispered compliment here. A hand that lingers just a fraction to long there. If his plan is to drive you insane so that he can have you relieved of your position due to mental incapacitation, then he’s pretty damn close to succeeding.

It’s on the twelfth day, a balmy Sunday, that it all comes to a head. You always get Sundays off so you usually take the day to head to your hometown of Alladin, a small township just short of an hour outside of the capital city. You’re in the kitchen helping your mother make lunch when your phone vibrates in your back pocket. A quick peek at the screen shows a message from Seokjin asking you to stop by his room when you return to the palace. You’re instantly suspicious of what it is he could possibly want on a Sunday evening but he’s still your boss so you tap out a quick reply confirming that you’ll pop in later.

It’s nearly ten o’clock when your fist knocks softly on Seokjin’s door. He calls out to you from somewhere inside to come in. You poke your head in the door to see him lounging in bed, scrolling through Netflix, hand shoved down the front of his pants for no real reason. He says something smart about letting all his “good air conditioning out” so you step all the way into the room and close the door.

“I had your employment contract redrawn. HR said you’ll have to switch positions but I was able to get you a four dollar raise as a consolation prize for not being able to work for me anymore. It’s on the table if you want to look at it.” You roll your eyes at his foolishness, venturing further into his inner sanctum. Thankfully, it’s a lot cleaner than it was the last time you were here. You really hope he recycled all of that paper though. You find the stack of papers you’re assuming is your new contract on the small end table next to his armchair.

“Jin,” You whisper almost unintelligibly. The papers in your hand drift back down to the table you’d picked them up from. “This is an application for a marriage license not an employment contract.”

You flip around only to get the shock of your life. For the second time, Seokjin is knelt before you. The sparkling diamond nestled in the tiny velvet box makes this time so much more significant. You hadn’t really believed him when he’d told you that you were it for him. It just couldn’t be true. You’re just a college dropout trying to be a good daughter by taking care of her parents. There’s nothing special that could’ve enraptured a man like Seokjin and yet he somehow found something in you that you’d never been able to see yourself.

“I’m a jerk. I’m impulsive. I leave my dirty underwear on the bathroom floor. I’m selfish. But I’m also hopelessly in love with you and everything you are. I don’t deserve you. I probably never will but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of being yours.”

Tears stream freely down your face. This insufferable pain in the ass has really wormed his way into your heart instead and, as much as he infuriates you, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You love this man. As much as you tried to deny it, you are head over heels for the fire-breathing menace in front of you.

“Give me my ring, loser.” Jin chokes on a huff of laughter before carefully sliding the ring onto your finger.

The second it’s sitting securely on your finger, you pounce on him with all the ferocity befitting your hybrid species. It’s like crashing into a brick wall when your body collides with Seokjin’s but you don’t care. You need to be close to him and you refuse to wait a single second longer. He lifts you off of your feet as he stands from his kneeling position and carries you to his bed.

Your lips cover his for the first time in weeks. Both of you simultaneously groan in satisfaction at the feeling. You’d almost forgotten just how much you loved kissing him. Your back meets the coolness of his sheets when he carefully lays you out on his mattress. His plush lips move along your jaw, finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. He sucks and bites at the skin there as you cling to his shoulders.

Seokjin nestles himself between your legs. The zipper on his jeans looks like it could give way at any second as his erection strains to be set free. He grinds against our soaked center repeatedly. You rake your nails down the front of his button-down shirt until it hangs loose around his frame. He quickly sheds the now useless garment before treating your clothes to the same fate. Soon all that remains between the two of you are the tiny pair of red lace panties you’d put on as a confidence booster this morning. They match the bra that Seokjin has already shredded so you’re surprised when instead of ripping your panties as well he chooses to leave them on you.

His lips leave no inch of skin untouched as he kisses his way down your torso. He pauses to swirl his tongue in your navel before blowing a puff of air on your skin. The shiver that courses down your spine brings a cocky grin to your face. That grin only grows when his eyes take in the way that your back arches after he flattens his tongue against your covered heat. The lace of your panties is so thin that you can barely tell it’s there when he flicks his tongue against your engorged clit. The fabric adds just that extra little bit of friction that has you seeing stars early.

Your fingers bury themselves in the thick, black strands atop his head and he welcomes the way you tug at his roots. He continues to slowly flick his tongue along your outer lips but it’s soon becoming not enough. After a few desperate pleas, Seokjin finally rids you of your panties to eat you out like he means it. He brings you to the brink of insanity with his tongue and shoves you over the edge with a final expert flick of his tongue. You’ve never been able to come from oral that didn’t involve fingering of some sort but as usual Seokjin shows you that there’s more than one way to make a cat purr.

He finds himself being dragged back up to your mouth as your greedy lips cover his once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s a heady mixture that has a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. Your inner muscles clench around nothing and you’re aching to be filled but there’s something that you’ve been wanting to do since that fated day when you’d walked in on him with Camille.

Seokjin is aware of the fact that as a hybrid you’re a lot stronger than the average woman but he still finds himself full of surprise when you flip him on his back as if he weighed nothing. He growls low in his throat when you grab his thick erection in your fist, squeezing him tight just how he likes it.

“I want you to fuck my face.” His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at your bold request. Far be it for him to deny you anything you ask of him though.

He obediently gathers your hair into a ponytail and guides your head towards his waiting erection. He thrusts are shallow at first but he slowly starts picking up speed. The gagging sounds bubbling up from your throat every time he bottoms out are threatening to do him in. Your arms snake up his torso, fingers flicking at his nipples as you hold yourself down on his cock. Seokjin is surprised by his own orgasm when you swallow around him. He cums long and hard down your throat and you swallow every drop. You keep working him with your mouth until he’s squirming beneath you from oversensitivity.

You soon find yourself trapped under Seokjin’s larger frame with your thighs pressed so tightly to your chest that your ass is no longer touching the mattress. It’s in this position that he decides to bury his face between your legs. You can do nothing but feel as he explores your drenched folds with his tongue. The warm wet muscles flickers rapidly against your clit and all you can do is take it. You can’t jerk your hips away from his face like you want to. Can’t grind your hips against his face like you want to. Can’t arch your back in pleasure like you want to. You’re totally and completely at the mercy of Seokjin’s talented mouth. Black spots dance before your vision as the pressure in your abdomen reaches its boiling point.

Jin rubs soothing circles in your thighs after he releases your legs. You pull him down to you for a kiss. An odd sense of pride spreads through your chest at the feeling of something warm and hard resting against your pelvic bone. Apparently, you weren’t the only one enjoying the way he just feasted on you like a starving man. You shift your hips so that he’s pressed against your center, relishing in the deep groan he lets out as he licks and sucks at your skin at random.

He rocks against you, coating himself in your wetness. His hardened cock is covered in an unholy mixture of his precum and your juices. You’re on the verge of begging him to put it in already – totally over his teasing – when he buries himself inside you on the next rock of his agile hips. The feeling of finally being one with him again feels much more overwhelming this time around. You suspect it may have something to do with the rock weighing down your left hand. Regardless of the reason, you feel dangerously close to another orgasm just one stroke in and, judging from the way Jin has frozen inside of you, you’re not the only one. Curses fall freely from his lips as he waxes poetic about how wet and tight you are around him.

You lift your hips to meet his every thrust when he finally starts to move until he’s moving too fast for you to keep up. He pauses his movements to sit up and lift your legs so that your ankles are resting on his shoulders. The change in position allows him to slam into your g spot with every forward movement. He can tell you’re close by the way your inner muscles spasm around him with increasing frequency. The soft look in Jin’s eyes is a striking contrast to the pounding of his hips against yours. Everything you feel for him is mirrored in his irises and it only serves to push you closer to your climax. You grit your teeth and try to hold your orgasm off because you don’t want this moment to end. Jin doesn’t exactly give you a choice in the matter as he makes you come undone with a flick of his thumb against your clit. He follows you into ecstasy moments later with a growl that you really wish you had been able to record as, head thrown back.

Jin lets your legs down for the second time today and moves as if he’s about to pull out. You hastily wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back to keep him inside you for as long as possible. He flashes you a tired grin that makes your heart flip flop in your chest as he gathers you in his arms to turn you both on your sides. The sound of his laughter fills the air when you swat at him for blowing rings of smoke in your face.

“So where do we go from here?” You ask, breaking the pleasant silence that had settled over the two of you.

“I’m thinking the shower.” He starts as he drags a hand through his sweaty locks. He even has the audacity to look taken aback when you flick him on the nose like a disobedient hound.

“That’s not what I meant you overgrown snake with wings.” Seokjin pouts. Still rubbing at his nose but you don’t relent. You like having a solid plan for everything you do in life and you’re not about to make an exception for him.

“Well for one, you’re fired. I wasn’t actually able to get your employment contract redrawn which is bullshit because I’m the goddamn prince but my mother is on the board of an ass load of charities and all that other good philanthropy stuff and is only too happy to have you join her.”

The implications of what Jin just said smacks you in the face like a ton of bricks. Sure, it solves your initial problem of not wanting to be some trophy wife but not having your job anymore revives the issue that forced you to get this job in the first place. No job means no paycheck. No paycheck means you can’t afford to pay your dad’s medical bills.

Jin can see the hamster wheel in your head spinning at an astonishing speed. He doesn’t have to be able to read your thoughts to know exactly what they pertain to. Despite your rough exterior, you have a massive heart and will sacrifice yourself for the well-being of others. A noble trait but he can foresee it being annoying in the future.

“Before you go too far down the rabbit hole, I would also like to say that both of your parents have been enrolled in the royal healthcare plan so you won’t have to worry about your father nor your mother in that regard anymore.”

There are really no words to how much you love this man right now. None whatsoever.

“You’re still in charge of picking out my suits thought. You have vision and I don’t trust anyone else to dress me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The kiss that you’d intended to be soft and sweet takes an intense turn. Getting a bit more dirty before you shower can’t hurt.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Blizzard! Broken Thermostat! Only One Bed!

A winter Good Omens story

[A/N: I’ve had this one under my hat for a few weeks, waiting for Snowed-In season to arrive. Well, it turned cold the last few days, it might snow early next week, and my furnace won’t light so you get it now. Enjoy!]

“I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky we are,” Crowley growled, sauntering down the hallway. The hotel key – a physical key, the building was a big, drafty Victorian manor – dangling from one hand, the other hand shoved as far as he could get it into the pocket of his jeans. “This blizzard came out of nowhere.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale paused to look out the window, watching white flakes drift down into the well-lit parking lot. “Any snowfall the first week of November is quite unexpected, even this far north.”

“Not a snowfall, Angel. A blizzard. I wouldn’t have stopped if these weren’t dangerous driving conditions.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Aziraphale waved one hand in the direction of the roads outside. “Why if it continues to, ah, blizzard at this rate, we could be looking at three, possibly even four inches by morning. Far more dangerous than driving the Bentley through a wall of fire, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps not that dangerous,” Crowley conceded. “But the Bentley’s been through enough this year. I won’t take any chances. We stay the night here, and if the roads are cleared in the morning –” Aziraphale’s throat clearing sounded suspiciously like a laugh – “fine, when the roads are cleared, we can drive the rest of the way back to London.”

“When you put it like that,” Aziraphale turned away from the window, quickly catching up to Crowley, “we were incredibly lucky to find a fine luxury hotel only one minute up the road.”

“And with one room left,” Crowley smirked as they arrived at the door marked 404.

“Sold out on a Thursday, no less.” Even behind dark lenses, Crowley couldn’t even attempt to meet the angel’s eyes. “Many things about this situation are immensely improbable.”

“Yes. Well.” Crowley bent over the lock, hiding his suddenly warm face. “As I said. Lucky.” The door unlatched and he quickly stepped through into the dark room. “And would you look at that – oh.” He fumbled at the wall until he found the light switch. “Would you look at that!”

“I can’t, dear, you’re blocking the door.”

Crowley shuffled to the side, trying to keep up the momentum. “There’s – look – there’s only one bed!”

“Mmm.” Aziraphale walked past, unconcerned, to where two plush chairs flanked a small table. Behind them enormous bay windows extended across the entire wall. “Oh, the view is quite lovely. There’s a duck pond! Pity about the ice.”

“Er, oh, is there?” Crowley crossed the room to take in the scenery, keeping the table between them. A line of lampposts across the grounds lit a brick path that circled the pond, nestled among gentle hills. The snow and mist made little halos around each light. Rectangular shadows hinted at hedges – the gardens were probably impressive in the spring.

“This room comes with breakfast, correct? Did you see a menu? I expect they do room service; I would much prefer to eat here than in the dining room we passed.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interjected, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “I think you’re ignoring a bigger question.”

“Hmm?” The angel turned away, crossing to study the widescreen TV in the corner with mild distaste.

“The bed, Angel.” Crowley pointed at the room’s central item. King-sized mattress, mounds of fluffy pillows, thick duvet folded back enough to show Egyptian cotton sheets with obscenely high thread counts. “There’s, well, one bed.”

“Yes, I can count.” Aziraphale gave a flat, piercing look that made Crowley squirm where he stood. “I would think that since only one of us sleeps, that is in fact the optimal number of beds.”

“Ah.” Golden eyes hidden by black lenses glanced around the room. “So, you’re just planning…”

“To sit here, enjoy the view, and read a book.” Aziraphale produced one from the pocket of his jacket. “I always carry something to entertain myself in emergencies.”

In a long quiet moment, they both continued to inspect the room. Aziraphale gave a happy hum when he found the kettle and a selection of black and herbal teas. Crowley, meanwhile, was busy with a tamper-proof electronic box on the wall.

“Oh, no!” He finally announced with all the drama picked up from centuries of theatergoing. “The thermostat! It’s broken!”

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale walked over to look. “Well, I’m sure I can fix it.” He raised his right hand to snap his fingers.

“What? No!” Crowley pushed the hand back down, then realized what he was doing and shoved his own back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t fix it, because, er, the, ah,” he waved his free hand helplessly, wishing an excuse, a word, even a coherent sound, would emerge. Aziraphale, the bastard, just watched him with impassive blue eyes. “The humans might notice. If you fix it wrong.”

The angel waited, as if expecting more. “Well. Can’t have that, I suppose. Should we call down and see if it can be fixed?”

“No. It’s…late. And not that cold. It’s only stuck at, er, 13 degrees. We’ll be fine. Just, you know, chilly.”

“You know, Crowley, I have a wonderful idea.” He finally met Aziraphale’s gaze, and the angel broke into a brilliant smile. “What do you say to some tea? They have provided quite the selection. Chamomile. Rose hip. Orange blossom. Do you have a preference?”

Crowley shrugged, giving letting out a contemplative “hmm,” that turned into an exasperated groan as Aziraphale bustled off to fill the kettle in the bathroom.

“Oh, my dear, the bathtub is simply enormous. Perhaps I should take a soak while you sleep, it would be most refreshing.”

Crowley slammed the back of his head against the wall twice. “That sounds…nice?” He stood up straight and crossed his arms as the angel returned. “You know. Tea isn’t going to help me much. Since I’ll be sleeping. And unable to drink.”

“There are extra blankets in the closet. You know how to put them on the bed, don’t you?”

“Uuunh.” Crowley turned to the closet, bracing both hands on the closed door. There was one thing he hadn’t tried yet, but he didn’t like to use it. “Aziraphale. You know. I’m a snake. Snakes are cold-blooded. If I’m not warm enough when I sleep…I could die.” Every word of it was technically true.

“Crowley. Look at me.” The voice was colder than the air outside. The demon turned to find blue eyes glaring at him without amusement. “This has gone far enough. You will not die from being chilly. I know perfectly well you are not cold-blooded. And you said not two minutes ago this temperature is only a little uncomfortable for you.” Hands clasped behind his back, he took a step closer. “Now. Are you going to keep playing around or are you going to say what’s on your mind?”

“Ngk.” Crowley shuffled his feet, glancing at every inch of space in the room except exactly where Aziraphale stood. “Angel. Aziraphale. Could you…” Removing the glasses, he tried to meet his angel’s eyes. “Would you share the bed with me? Just to keep me company. Til I fall asleep.” His voice got faster and softer as he talked. “Cause I like it. When you’re close to me.”

“My dear, darling Crowley.” Aziraphale walked the last few steps to close the distance between them, placing one hand on the demon’s chin, pressing warm lips to his cheek. “Of course. All you ever had to do was ask.”

--

The bed really was extremely comfortable. Aziraphale leaned back against the headboard, propped up by several of the softest pillows he had ever felt, sighing happily.

Crowley had ignored the pillows entirely, choosing to rest his head against the angel’s heart, body pressed close, legs in a tangle under the duvet. Aziraphale could hardly see how such an angle could be comfortable but Crowley was fast asleep, a soft smile released across his face that would never have been allowed were he awake.

It was only then, left hand slowly combing through red hair, that Aziraphale realized the thermostat was still broken. He could fix it with a snap of his fingers but, well, they were all entwined with Crowley’s across his stomach, and what if moving like that woke him? That would be too great a tragedy.

Outside the window, wasn’t the snow falling just a little thicker? Could be a blizzard after all.

He shifted his arm gently, pulling Crowley closer, feeling the heat of him pressed into the curve of his side. Watching the smile stretch a little farther across that narrow face.

Yes, he should stay a bit longer. After all, they wouldn’t want to get cold.

[This story isn’t on my AO3 page, but you can find my other Good Omens fics there! Please reblog if you enjoyed!]

[humilityindebauchery-blog]

The Price

by Neil Gaiman

Tramps and vagabonds have marks they make on gateposts and trees and doors, letting others of their kind know a little about the people who live at the houses and farms they pass on their travels. I think cats must leave similar signs; how else to explain the cats who turn up at our door through the year, hungry and flea-ridden and abandoned?

We take them in. We get rid of the fleas and the ticks, feed them and take them to the vet. We pay for them to get their shots, and, indignity upon indignity, we have them neutered or spayed.

And they stay with us, for a few months, or for a year, or for ever.

Most of them arrive in summer. We live in the country, just the right distance out of town for the city-dwellers to abandon their cats near us.

We never seem to have more than eight cats, rarely have less than three. The cat population of my house is currently as follows: Hermione and Pod, tabby and black respectively, the mad sisters who live in my attic office, and do not mingle; Princess, the blue-eyed long-haired white cat, who lived wild in the woods for years before she gave up her wild ways for soft sofas and beds; and, last but largest, Furball, Princess's cushion-like calico long-haired daughter, orange and black and white, whom I discovered as a tiny kitten in our garage one day, strangled and almost dead, her head poked through an old badminton net, and who surprised us all by not dying but instead growing up to be the best-natured cat I have ever encountered.

And then there is the black cat. Who has no other name than the Black Cat, and who turned up almost a month ago. We did not realise he was going to be living here at first: he looked too well-fed to be a stray, too old and jaunty to have been abandoned. He looked like a small panther, and he moved like a patch of night.

One day, in the summer, he was lurking about our ramshackle porch: eight or nine years old, at a guess, male, greenish-yellow of eye, very friendly, quite unperturbable. I assumed he belonged to a neighbouring farmer or household.

I went away for a few weeks, to finish writing a book, and when I came home he was still on our porch, living in an old cat- bed one of the children had found for him. He was, however, almost unrecognisable. Patches of fur had gone, and there were deep scratches on his grey skin. The tip of one ear was chewed away. There was a gash beneath one eye, a slice gone from one lip. He looked tired and thin.

We took the Black Cat to the vet, where we got him some antibiotics, which we fed him each night, along with soft cat food.

We wondered who he was fighting. Princess, our white, beautiful, near-feral queen? Raccoons? A rat-tailed, fanged possum?

Each night the scratches would be worse -- one night his side would be chewed-up; the next, it would be his underbelly, raked with claw marks and bloody to the touch.

When it got to that point, I took him down to the basement to recover, beside the furnace and the piles of boxes. He was surprisingly heavy, the Black Cat, and I picked him up and carried him down there, with a cat-basket, and a litter bin, and some food and water. I closed the door behind me. I had to wash the blood from my hands, when I left the basement.

He stayed down there for four days. At first he seemed too weak to feed himself: a cut beneath one eye had rendered him almost one-eyed, and he limped and lolled weakly, thick yellow pus oozing from the cut in his lip.

I went down there every morning and every night, and I fed him, and gave him antibiotics, which I mixed with his canned food, and I dabbed at the worst of the cuts, and spoke to him. He had diarrhoea, and, although I changed his litter daily, the basement stank evilly.

The four days that the Black Cat lived in the basement were a bad four days in my house: the baby slipped in the bath, and banged her head, and might have drowned; I learned that a project I had set my heart on -- adapting Hope Mirrlees' novel Lud in the Mist for the BBC -- was no longer going to happen, and I realised that I did not have the energy to begin again from scratch, pitching it to other networks, or to other media; my daughter left for Summer Camp, and immediately began to send home a plethora of heart-tearing letters and cards, five or six each day, imploring us to take her away; my son had some kind of fight with his best friend, to the point that they were no longer on speaking terms; and returning home one night, my wife hit a deer, who ran out in front of the car. The deer was killed, the car was left undriveable, and my wife sustained a small cut over one eye.

By the fourth day, the cat was prowling the basement, walking haltingly but impatiently between the stacks of books and comics, the boxes of mail and cassettes, of pictures and of gifts and of stuff. He mewed at me to let him out and, reluctantly, I did so.

He went back onto the porch, and slept there for the rest of the day.

The next morning there were deep, new gashes in his flanks, and clumps of black cat-hair -- his -- covered the wooden boards of the porch.

Letters arrived that day from my daughter, telling us that Camp was going better, and she thought she could survive a few days; my son and his friend sorted out their problem, although what the argument was about -- trading cards, computer games, Star Wars or A Girl -- I would never learn. The BBC Executive who had vetoed Lud in the Mist was discovered to have been taking bribes (well, 'questionable loans') from an independent production company, and was sent home on permanent leave: his successor, I was delighted to learn, when she faxed me, was the woman who had initially proposed the project to me before leaving the BBC.

I thought about returning the Black Cat to the basement, but decided against it. Instead, I resolved to try and discover what kind of animal was coming to our house each night, and from there to formulate a plan of action -- to trap it, perhaps.

For birthdays and at Christmas my family gives me gadgets and gizmos, pricy toys which excite my fancy but, ultimately, rarely leave their boxes. There is a food dehydrator and an electric carving knife, a bread-making machine, and, last year's present, a pair of see-in-the-dark binoculars. On Christmas Day I had put the batteries into the binoculars, and had walked about the basement in the dark, too impatient even to wait until nightfall, stalking a flock of imaginary Starlings. (You were warned not to turn it on in the light: that would have damaged the binoculars, and quite possibly your eyes as well.) Afterwards I had put the device back into its box, and it sat there still, in my office, beside the box of computer cables and forgotten bits and pieces.

Perhaps, I thought, if the creature, dog or cat or raccoon or what-have-you, were to see me sitting on the porch, it would not come, so I took a chair into the box-and-coat-room, little larger than a closet, which overlooks the porch, and, when everyone in the house was asleep, I went out onto the porch, and bade the Black Cat goodnight.

That cat, my wife had said, when he first arrived, is a person. And there was something very person-like in his huge, leonine face: his broad black nose, his greenish-yellow eyes, his fanged but amiable mouth (still leaking amber pus from the right lower lip).

I stroked his head, and scratched him beneath the chin, and wished him well. Then I went inside, and turned off the light on the porch.

I sat on my chair, in the darkness inside the house, with the see-in-the-dark binoculars on my lap. I had switched the binoculars on, and a trickle of greenish light came from the eyepieces.

Time passed, in the darkness.

I experimented with looking at the darkness with the binoculars, learning to focus, to see the world in shades of green. I found myself horrified by the number of swarming insects I could see in the night air: it was as if the night world were some kind of nightmarish soup, swimming with life. Then I lowered the binoculars from my eyes, and stared out at the rich blacks and blues of the night, empty and peaceful and calm.

Time passed. I struggled to keep awake, found myself profoundly missing cigarettes and coffee, my two lost addictions. Either of them would have kept my eyes open. But before I had tumbled too far into the world of sleep and dreams a yowl from the garden jerked me fully awake. I fumbled the binoculars to my eyes, and was disappointed to see that it was merely Princess, the white cat, streaking across the front garden like a patch of greenish-white light. She vanished into the woodland to the left of the house, and was gone.

I was about to settle myself back down, when it occurred to me to wonder what exactly had startled Princess so, and I began scanning the middle distance with the binoculars, looking for a huge raccoon, a dog, or a vicious possum. And there was indeed something coming down the driveway, towards the house. I could see it through the binoculars, clear as day.

It was the Devil.

I had never seen the Devil before, and, although I had written about him in the past, if pressed would have confessed that I had no belief in him, other than as an imaginary figure, tragic and Miltonion. The figure coming up the driveway was not Milton's Lucifer. It was the Devil.

My heart began to pound in my chest, to pound so hard that it hurt. I hoped it could not see me, that, in a dark house, behind window-glass, I was hidden.

The figure flickered and changed as it walked up the drive. One moment it was dark, bull-like, minotaurish, the next it was slim and female, and the next it was a cat itself, a scarred, huge grey-green wildcat, its face contorted with hate.

There are steps that lead up to my porch, four white wooden steps in need of a coat of paint (I knew they were white, although they were, like everything else, green through my binoculars). At the bottom of the steps, the Devil stopped, and called out something that I could not understand, three, perhaps four words in a whining, howling language that must have been old and forgotten when Babylon was young; and, although I did not understand the words, I felt the hairs raise on the back of my head as it called.

And then I heard, muffled through the glass, but still audible, a low growl, a challenge, and, slowly, unsteadily, a black figure walked down the steps of the house, away from me, toward the Devil. These days the Black Cat no longer moved like a panther, instead he stumbled and rocked, like a sailor only recently returned to land.

The Devil was a woman, now. She said something soothing and gentle to the cat, in a tongue that sounded like French, and reached out a hand to him. He sank his teeth into her arm, and her lip curled, and she spat at him.

The woman glanced up at me, then, and if I had doubted that she was the Devil before, I was certain of it now: the woman's eyes flashed red fire at me; but you can see no red through the night-vision binoculars, only shades of a green. And the Devil saw me, through the window. It saw me. I am in no doubt about that at all.

The Devil twisted and writhed, and now it was some kind of jackal, a flat-faced, huge-headed, bull-necked creature, halfway between a hyena and a dingo. There were maggots squirming in its mangy fur, and it began to walk up the steps.

The Black Cat leapt upon it, and in seconds they became a rolling, writhing thing, moving faster than my eyes could follow.

All this in silence.

And then a low roar -- down the country road at the bottom of our drive, in the distance, lumbered a late-night truck, its blazing headlights burning bright as green suns through the binoculars. I lowered them from my eyes, and saw only darkness, and the gentle yellow of headlights, and then the red of rear lights as it vanished off again into the nowhere at all.

When I raised the binoculars once more there was nothing to be seen. Only the Black Cat, on the steps, staring up into the air. I trained the binoculars up, and saw something flying away - - a vulture, perhaps, or an eagle -- and then it flew beyond the trees and was gone.

I went out onto the porch, and picked up the Black Cat, and stroked him, and said kind, soothing things to him. He mewled piteously when I first approached him, but, after a while, he went to sleep on my lap, and I put him into his basket, and went upstairs to my bed, to sleep myself. There was dried blood on my tee shirt and jeans, the following morning.

That was a week ago.

The thing that comes to my house does not come every night. But it comes most nights: we know it by the wounds on the cat, and the pain I can see in those leonine eyes. He has lost the use of his front left paw, and his right eye has closed for good.

I wonder what we did to deserve the Black Cat. I wonder who sent him. And, selfish and scared, I wonder how much more he has to give.

=ENDS=

2400 words

Neil Gaiman

[dannyphantomisameme]

Not What I Want

~ Chapter 3 ~

(Click for prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, and fan fiction link) 

Once again he found himself dragging his body through the devoid halls, his clothes drenched in ectoplasm. His head throbbed in agony, pulsating with each step he took. Walking down the halls took all the energy he had. He had mopped up the final remains of Ember, cleansing the the floors and walls till they were spotless. Muscles aching, his stomach grumbled with the realization that he hadn’t eaten lunch. No worries, dinner was in another hour. He could wait.

The image of Ember’s face haunted his soul. Maybe she was in a better place now, hopefully. Although the afterlife was a safe haven from fullon nonexistence, no one knew what happened when a ghosts core was fractured.

Ember knows now.

He regretted his actions dearly. The metaphorical hand of failure wrapped around his neck and squeezed till he could no longer breathe. However, he was half-ghost, so he didn’t need the intake of oxygen. His father would definitely reprimand his antagonistic actions the moment he saw him.

What was he thinking? Playing hero for Ember, ha. He could never abscond from his father without his notice. He really was a fool, instilling hope in the innocent ghost. He began to chuckle at his own stupidity, his voice echoing throughout the deserted hall.

Once he reached his room, he opened the door and slipped in. He continued his daily routine after hurting a ghost. Typically the hunt for the ghost took two or three days max, but Ember was an exception. He knew where to find her, although he wished he didn’t. Removing his clothes, he stepped into the shower.

Usually his showers were relaxing, but this time all he felt was remorse, suffering, heartache, etc. He scrubbed his body, but he felt as if dirt and grit remained. It was attached to him, coating his skin and spreading until it covered every inch. He couldn’t eradicate himself of his behavior, just like the memories he couldn’t expel from his mind.

Drying himself, he wrapped the towel around his waist and shoved his dirty clothes into his laundry hamper. The basket was spilling out with clothes covered in the green substance. He needed to do his laundry soon, before his father came for his weekly room inspection.

Walking out of his bathroom, he dressed himself in his brand-named clothes and made sure to comb his damp hair. He looked at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the scar that ran across the right side of his forehead. Luckily, the wound lay hidden under his bangs.

Next he sat on his couch and polished his shoes. Wiping away the ghostly matter with a towel, he scowled at the lemony scent that tackled his nose. He continued to rub the remains of his only friend away as he tried not to breathe. Finishing, he slipped his socks and shoes on, discarding the now green towel.

Looking up, he noticed the dreariness outside the window. The gray sky was littered with altostratus clouds as the trees swayed through the rigid wind. Bits of snow fell and grazed the yellowing grass. Icicles hung from the bare trunks of the trees, awaiting their moment to descend into the blanket of snow. He always desired to sit in the luscious grass on a warm summer day and read a good book. Maybe a sci-fi. The light from the sun that streamed through the windows always warmed his heart, like a loving family should.

The only view from the windows of the entire mansion were of a forest. No other signs of life could be seen, even the natural wildlife. He never witnessed a squirrel scurry across the snow or a bird fly through the sky. Daniel never understood why his father chose to build his home within a forest, but then again, he never understood his father in general. The man was so vague, only demanding his son to follow his every whim. Finally, he ripped his gaze away from the window and took off to the hall.

Dreading the upcoming encounter with his father, he trekked down the stairs and into the dining hall, sitting down in his spot. His father sat paging through a newspaper, waiting for his son to join him. Lucy entered the room from the kitchen with two full trays of food. The chef had prepared a delicious turkey salisbury steak with broccoli and mashed potatoes on the side. Daniel never had a preference for dinner, he just ate whatever without a complaint. Plus if he made the slightest complaint, he would be terribly injured by the end of his sentence.

Just as he picked up his fork, his father set down his newspaper. Vlad’s mouth, which had previously formed a straight line, began to curl upwards. His demonic grin was enough to make Daniel sick to his stomach.

Daniel felt the urge to run to his room and speed away from his worst nightmare. He gripped the table to avert his attention away from fleeing. His heart palpitated fiercely within his chest, triggering the release of cortisol, a blood-pressure increasing hormone. His breathing began to pick up the pace, rapidly shortening in length.

Vlad placed his hands on the table, curling his fingers together. Eyeing his son, Vlad opened his mouth to speak, only to be intruded by Daniel.

“Why did you do that? She could have been useful.” he interrupted speaking softly. Vlad sat there, gawking at his son.

“Since when did you question my actions?” Vlad replied growling. His fangs started to peak from his frown.

“Everyday.” Daniel’s voice echoed through the room. Fortunately, the kitchen staff couldn’t hear him through the sound proof walls, his father made sure of that when he built the mansion.

Vlad was shocked at his son’s assertion. He never once talked back in his life or looked so confident doing so, until now. “Did you just talk back to me?”

“Yes.” The food was getting colder.

Vlad stood up suddenly, swinging his arm at the table and knocking down a wine glass. The liquid coated the floor like a bloodstain while the glass shattered into a million filaments. Leaning over the table, he whispered “Don’t you ever disobey me again. Understood?”

Daniel stood up; he was going to be in immense trouble for this. “No.” he deadpanned as he starred his father in the eye.

Vlad shook his head in disbelief. His son was in it for now. “How dare you, you son of a bitch! I provide you with this luxury life and this is how you repay me?!” He was shouting now, eyes glinting with hints of blood red. He swung his arm onto the table, striking it hard enough to break the edge in two. His dinner slid down towards the crack, ceramic plates exploding in every direction. Daniel flinched at the sound.

“I don’t need a luxurious life.” he replied sharply. His father began to laugh now, his chuckles ringing through the airy room.

“Don’t need me, ha.” Vlad snickered darkly, “You couldn’t even stand a single day without me.”

“Watch me.” Daniel retorted straight-faced. This time, he didn’t tremble or squeak, he asserted his ground. His hands were balled into fists, glowing ecto energy surrounding them. He stood tall, defending himself for the first time in his life.

“... devil.” the word rolled of Daniel’s tongue effortlessly.

Shit.

Vlad growled and lunged for him, but Daniel anticipated his move. Grabbing a dull silver knife off the table, he plunged it into his father’s right arm. He grunted and fell to the floor, clutching his brachium that was now spewing blood. Daniel took the opportunity to slip away by calling upon his invisibility.

Hardly escaping his father’s claws, Daniel zoomed through the dining room, flying into the main foyer. There he soared past the red curtains, adopting a zig-zag pattern in order to shake off his father, not knowing if he was following him or not. He didn’t risk looking back, in fear of witnessing his father’s devilish glare.

He took the long way to his room. Flying all the way to the other side of the mansion, up the stairs, and back to his room. He didn’t care if the staff saw him zoom past, they would only see a blur. He would have flown directly through the walls, if they weren’t ghost proof. Entering his room, he grabbed his backpack from earlier, which still held weapons, and stuffed in some clothes, snacks, and a bottle of water. He dug through his sock drawer and took out a wad of cash, shoving it into his backpack as well. He had stolen the money from his father years ago, in case of an emergency like this. He grabbed a jacket from his closet and threw it on.

The ghost shield around the mansion made it impossible to leave, so Daniel decided to tear it down. Once again returning to invisibility, he flew through the mansion. Over the years, he kept track of the rooms in the enormous estate. There were a few doors that were password protected, but only one of those doors caught his attention. Flying down the stairs he headed straight ahead into another long hall. He stopped at a black door and began pressing buttons on a keypad resting on the handle.

He typed in his father’s birthday.

Incorrect.

The day his father became a halfa.

Incorrect.

His own birthday.

Yes!

Mentally congratulating himself while simultaneously considering why the password was his birthday, he entered the room without a sound, locking it behind him. Inside were huge silver furnaces, yet the atmosphere reeked of the unforgettable smell of ectoplasm. He turned back to visible and wound his way through the eerie room while concurrently pinching his nose. He came across a silver box on the wall with a large green ‘x’ on it. He opened it swiftly, and was met with a ton of wires. Anxiously anticipating his father’s appearance, he pulled the wires with a grunt. His objective was to destroy anything that brought about suspicion.

He would have guessed that time had slowed down, as that’s what it felt like. Ripping the wires, he felt an invisible weight lift off his shoulder. He smiled; the feeling felt like nothing he had ever felt before. The sparks flew to his right as he was unexpectedly thrown into a giant silver cylinder. He groaned an sat up, only to be enclosed within a circle of fervor.

The green flames roared and scorched against his skin. He struggled to breathe, coughing intensely. This was no ordinary fire, ectoplasmic fire was a danger to all, even half-ghosts like him. Breathing in its fervent smoke could reduce one’s strength significantly. Daniel had only ever encountered the fire once in his life, fortunately escaping before intaking it, but the stories were enough to scare him.

Shuddering to move out of the room, he clutched his shirt. His lungs burned under the intense heat as the lemony aroma attacked his mind. His brain throbbed in his head, skin beginning to char. He couldn’t see through the thick smoke as he dragged himself through. His limbs protested any movement, but he ignored them. He felt defenseless. Even his ghost core felt so far away, although it was situated in his chest. He was also starving. Skipping dinner hadn’t been his brightest idea.

Suddenly he was on the ground. Something sharp clawed across his stomach, shredding his expensive clothes. He shrieked at the pain and squirmed under someone’s grasp. Through the fog he could see two glowing red orbs.

The devil.

He yelped as he forced out a shield of ectoplasm. His father was thrown off of him and into another silver furnace. Steam escaped from the now ruptured cylinder and suffused into the room. Coughing, Daniel grabbed ahold of the nearest object and brought him onto his feet. His legs were shaking, begging him to stop. He heard a groan to his right.

Trudging and clutching his injured stomach, he continued through the room. He couldn’t just walk away from his father, he needed to hide. Before he could ponder anymore, he felt a tug on his hair. His head slammed into the concrete floor below, knocking the breath out of him. His head exploded in agony, as if he was dying all over again. He felt a cold substance trickle through his hair.

Clenching his eyes shut, Daniel felt hot breath on his ear. “You will never escape, you goddamn piece of shit. You don’t understand anything. Even if you leave, you’ll never survive. The world’s too cruel for you.” he paused, catching his breath. “Your safe here.” Vlad gripped his sons hair firmly, twisting to induce more pain.

Daniel couldn’t take it anymore. Quickly opening his eyes he grabbed his father by his forearms and yeeted him across the room. The impact of his father’s body hitting the wall rang through his mind. His entire body was shaking now, but he got up once more.

“I NEVER WANTED ANY OF THIS!!” Daniel shrieked at the top of his lungs. His hands ran through his hair, staining them with his blood red liquid. He needed to gain control once more. Mustering all the strength he could, he soared straight through the wall and out of the house, charred backpack still in hand.

It worked. The shield was gone.

He escaped. He was now outside.

Outside.

Away from the devil.

Zooming under the stars and above the trees, just like his dreams, he felt himself tire. He continued for what felt like an eternity. Finally he lowered himself, but landed roughly, tumbling into the frigid snow. His jacket was ripped into scraps clinging to his body. The rest of his clothes were ripped in various spots and encompassed in black soot. He risked looking back, but was only met with bare trees surrounded by the night sky.

His eyes fluttered to close, but he fought the instinct. With his heightened night vision, he was able to navigate his way through the dark. He took off his destroyed jacket and ripped it into strips of fabric. Lifting his once white shirt now splotched with a large crimson stain, he wrapped the jacket strips around his abdomen and hissed at the sting.

Once he finished, he laid down into the frozen white blanket. It felt so relaxing against his burning skin. The cold didn’t bother him since he had an ice core. He was used to the icy sensation when he mustered up ice shards.

A grin began to spread across his features. He was finally free.

Free.

He never thought he could utter those words through his lips. He sat back up and reached into his backpack, pulling out a packet of Lays chips. He devoured the entire bag under seconds. The little boost of sodium gave him little energy, enough to take a quick flight. He couldn’t stay here long. His father could locate him any moment.

How could I forget?

Searching his backpack, he uncovered a knife. Rolling his left sleeve up, he penetrated the tip into his wrist. Grunting at the impact, he twisted it until he felt something underneath. Blood rushed down his wrist and blotching the pure snow. He gouged a small rectangular chip out of his wrist. Slowly removing the chip, he threw it into the snow and used another jacket strip to apply pressure and prevent any more loseage of blood.

Vlad had input a little chip under Daniel’s skin when he was little, although he never knew where to find it. After injuring his left wrist several times, he could feel something unusual against his muscles. From there he realized the chip was probably located there. Luckily, he didn’t just stab himself for nothing. With the chip, his father could locate him anywhere, except the ghost zone, or so he previously thought.

He struggled to stand up, but finally made his way onto his quivering feet. Transforming invisibly to not attract any attention to himself, he levitated in the air amd zoomed off. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care less.

He munched on a granola bar as he soared over the trees, marvelling at the beauty of the outdoors. He observed many critters scattering throughout the night.

As time passed he felt himself become more tired, until he was unable to continue. The forest seemed to continue forever, a sea of bare trees.

Just as Daniel felt like he was about to collapse, he saw a small light ahead. Instilling hope in his little innocent heart, he sped off towards the light. Its illumination grew larger and larger, until he came upon a road. Cars, something he never witnessed before, zoomed past on the road. The luminous glow originated from the streetlamps.

Knowing he couldn’t continue, he dove towards the cars and decided to hop in one. Awaiting for the perfect vehicle he could escape in, he noticed a large moving van driving by. He instantly flew in, removing his backpack and transforming back into his human self.

Before he could lay down on a sofa, he was already knocked out.

~~~~~

In a black office chair, sat a man with a ruffled suit. His silvery hair was tousled in several directions. Bandages were wrapped around his arm and forehead, some parts stained with a wine-red substance. The man swiveled in his chair to face his desk, eyes transfixed in a dissociated state.

“Did you find him?” He growled through his barred teeth. His naturally blue eyes were gleaming with hints of blood red. Two giant, neon green figures, one in the shape of a bear while the other a rabbit, returned a growl. The bear placed its paw on the desk, opening it to reveal a small rectangular object covered in flaky dried blood.

“You incompetent fools! I request of you the simplest of jobs and you return empty handed?!” His voice rang through the office room. His expression displayed pure fury. The ghosts stood in panic, afraid for their afterlives.

Vlad Masters stood up as a white circle of light descended down his body. His silvery hair was now fixed into two horns, its color matching that of the night sky. His wrinkled and worn suit was replaced with a silver long-sleeved top and pants, with a matching cape. A black belt was bound to his waist, containing various buttons with specialized functions. His outfit was complete with red accents, pair of jet black boots, and matching gloves. His skin had a blue tint to it. Hovering over the chair, the devil smirked at the two innocuous entities.

Manifesting his telekinesis, he grabbed ahold of the two specters by their throats, squeezing tautly. “The next time I ask of something, I want it done.” he slammed the two ghosts onto the floor. The entities grunted in response, unable to speak in return.

“Oh wait, there will be no next time.” He once again picked the ghosts clutching their chests, this time with his gloved hands. Crushing their cores, he continued to hold up the ghosts till they began to dissolve into a clump of ectoplasm. The green substance ran down his arms and onto the floor as he grinned diabolically.

He wiped his hands on his silvery cape, calling upon his transformation back into human from. He once again sat down in his office chair, rotating to turn to the bleak window. Leaning forward, he whispered.

“I will find you.”

“And you will want me.”

[ethospathoslogan]

‘cause i love the way you wake me up; a logince/sanders sides one-shot

A/N: catch me posting fanfics at past 12:30am bc self control??? i don’t know her. also, logince is my life now i have accepted my fate.

summary: Logan is the biggest anti-morning person Roman has ever met. Roman couldn’t love him more.

ships: logince

content: fluff galore, like seriously this gave me a cavity writing it, mornings, logan uses expletives because he hates the morning

WC: 1,759 words of pure fluff

read on ao3!!!

Roman counted himself blessed that he could spend every morning waking up next to Logan, and that many more mornings together were soon to come.

The sun of early spring was shining its rays through their window and across Logan’s face. Logan, who had his side of the blankets pulled all the way up to his neck, scrunched up his face at the light being shed over his eyes, but still didn’t stir. The clock on their side table said that it was a quarter to nine. Their bedroom still had the night chill settled in it, despite the sun having risen a while ago now, and Roman watched as Logan pulled the blankets tighter around him.

Roman was used to being the first one awake, along with being the one without blankets (currently, his side of the blankets could only be pulled up to his hips). Logan, while also just being a night owl, was usually kept up late grading papers and reviewing his lesson plans for the next day, causing him to go to bed sometimes many hours after Roman. Roman would always wake up, though, when Logan came in and made sure to give Logan more blankets, since Logan had the tendency to freeze overnight while Roman might as well have been a furnace.

A lock of Logan’s brown hair fell onto his face, tilted towards Roman, and he smiled at the sight. Logan truly looked so peaceful.

The moment was quickly ruined when the phone on the bedside table next to Roman started to ring loudly and Logan mumbled his lovely first words of the morning, “Tell whoever is fucking calling at this early in the fucking morning that we’re not friends with them any longer.”

Roman let out a small laugh. “Good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “And two f-bombs in your first sentence of the morning? Impressive.”

“Just answer the damn phone,” Logan groaned and pulled the covers up over his head, as if they would block him from the shrill ringing in their bedroom.

Roman turned over on his side and grabbed the phone. The called ID said that Patton was calling. “Patton, my dear friend,” Roman said upon answering. He laid back on the bed. Logan tore the covers away from his head and reached his left arm across Roman, as if to snatch the phone away and, presumably, either yell at their friend or throw it across the room (or both) but, instead, Roman grabbed his left hand. “What can we do for you this fine Saturday morning?” Roman smiled as he observed the silver ring that Logan wore.

“Oh, Roman, I’m so glad you’re awake,” Patton said on the other line, already sounding as if he had been up for hours. Knowing Patton, he probably was. Like Roman, he was an early riser and, also like Roman, was with a person who hated the mornings. “Is Logan up, too?”

Roman turned to look at Logan and saw him blearily glaring back. “Logan’s… alive,” Roman decided upon. Patton laughed.

“Tell Patton that I hate him,” Logan said, though his voice was too tired to have any true bite.

“Tell Logan that I heard that,” Patton said. “And that he and Virgil can moan about how terrible we are over breakfast. Me and Virge are going to that cute cafe just down the street from your apartment, come join us!”

Logan, who could clearly hear the conversation through the receiver, actually whined, “It’s so early.”

“Yeah, because it’s breakfast, Lo, it’s meant to be early,” Roman said aside to Logan before, to Patton, “What time?”

“We were thinking nine-thirty?” Patton said and Roman heard someone grumble in the background. He could only assume it was Virgil, their other resident night owl, begrudgingly agreeing.

“Is nine-thirty good?” Roman asked Logan, already knowing the answer he was going to get.

“I will leave you,” Logan said, his eyes drifting shut. “I will pack my things and walk out and then I will go to Patton and Virgil’s apartment and I will take Virgil away to somewhere where we don’t have to get up at ungodly hours on weekends.” Right on script.

Roman laughed and said to Patton, “We’ll be there.”

“Oh, great!” Patton exclaimed. “You guys will probably get there first, since you live right there, so make sure to grab us a good table!”

“You know we will,” Roman said. “So, we’ll see you guys soon, alright?”

He and Patton exchanged goodbyes before hanging up. Roman dropped Logan’s hand from his and put the phone back on the side table. He then flopped back down and turned to Logan. “So, we have breakfast plans now,” Roman said as Logan opened his eyes back up.

“It’s so early,” Logan repeated and pouted, actually pouted. Despite Roman being the “drama queen” of their little friend group, he decided that Logan came in at a very close second in the morning.

“For you, perhaps,” Roman said. “But at least it’s an early morning seeing our friends. You could be heading off to teach that one intro course with that kid who can’t shut up.”

Logan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me of that,” he mumbled. “The weekend is for pleasant thoughts only.”

“And now we get to have a pleasant morning together and with our friends,” Roman said, trying to hype Logan up so that he would, eventually, get out of bed. “It’s that cafe down the street with those chocolate croissants you like.”

“Silver lining,” Logan muttered, though Roman knew that he did enjoy seeing their friends no matter the time. Logan then reached for Roman’s hand and Roman gladly took it. His eyes flicked back to the band Logan wore.

“You should be careful sleeping in your ring,” Roman murmured, gently tracing his thumb over the silver band on his boyfriend’s -no, fiance’s- left ring finger. “Don’t want it to get stuck.”

“Yes, I should be more careful,” Logan’s said quietly, observing the ring. “What a shame it would be to be stuck with you forever.”

“You still have a couple months left to duck out,” Roman teased. He brought Logan’s hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to it. Logan smiled, blinking slowly at Roman, and he knew that Logan would never walk away. This was what Roman expected to experience every day for the rest of his life.

When Logan’s eyes started to drift shut again, Roman tsked. “Come on, love, no more sleeping,” he said softly. He finally sat up in the bed and pushed the blankets off of himself, only for Logan to grab all of them and pull them over him. Logan had already turned his face back into his pillow and Roman couldn’t help but laugh as he tried to smooth down his own hair. “Lo, we just promised Patton and Virgil that we’ll meet them for breakfast.”

“You promised them that,” Logan mumbled into the pillow, curling further into the blanket.

“I’ll buy you your coffee,” Roman offered.

“You did that on our first date, Prince,” Logan said, turning his head to look back at Roman. “Step up your game.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you two coffees, since you’re an addict who can’t survive on one.”

Logan considered before smiling tiredly at Roman. “That works,” he said and even managed a laugh as Roman cheered in celebration before getting out of the bed.

“I’m glad we came to a compromise,” Roman said, walking over to their closet. Logan rolled over onto his back to watch. “It just pains me that the only reason you’re marrying me is so that you never have to buy another coffee again,” he continued, rather dramatically, as he grabbed one of his red sweaters and pulled it over his head.

“No, you’re wrong,” Logan said and reached out a hand, beckoning Roman closer. Roman, despite still needing to change out of his pajama pants because they were supposed to be meeting Patton and Virgil soon and he couldn’t greet them half dressed, complied with no hesitation. He let Logan grab his hand and pull him down closer, their mouths only inches from each other. “I married you for your money. The coffee is just a perk.”

Roman laughed and closed the gap between them. Still holding Logan’s hand, he used his other to gently cup Logan’s jaw as they both melted into the kiss. Roman traced his thumb against Logan’s jaw line as Logan pushed himself up on his elbows, using his other hand to pull Roman closer.

When the couple finally pulled away, Roman rested his head against Logan’s forehead and grinned. “I love you, Logan,” he said.

Even after all the times Roman had told Logan that, Logan’s cheeks still tinted pink at hearing it. “I love you too, Ro.”

“And you have morning breath and should brush your teeth.”

Logan rolled his eyes and fell back onto the bed. “For being a romantic, you sure can ruin the mood,” he said. “And it’s not like you’re much better.”

Roman beamed and turned back towards the closet. He pulled out one of Logan’s long sleeves and jeans and threw them over his shoulder. They landed on what he assumed was the bed with a soft thump. “Come on, get changed, those coffees aren’t going to buy themselves,” Roman said, pulling on a pair of his own jeans.

Logan groaned but finally complied and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He grabbed his glasses from his side table and put them on. “Fine, fine,” he mumbled, swinging his legs over the side and standing up.

Roman grinned, feeling victorious at having convinced Logan to get up and out of bed before nine-a.m., and made his way out of their bedroom and into their bathroom to finish getting ready. A couple minutes in, when Roman was trying to make his hair look the best it could in a short amount of time, Logan walked in and wrapped his arms around Roman from behind. Tingles went down Roman’s spine as Logan pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck.

“I’m excited for many more mornings like this,” Logan said, leaning his chin on Roman’s shoulder. His eyes still drooped sleepily, but at least he was standing upright on his own… sort of.

Roman smiled at their reflections in the mirror, the lights up above the mirror glinting against the silver band on Logan’s finger. “Yeah,” he said, turning his head to the side and pressing a kiss to Logan’s temple. “Me too.”

tagging: @princelogical

[softboywriting]

Heal Me // Doctor!Shawn (A Soulmate AU) Part 4

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“Why didn’t you go to your appointment today?” Shawn asks as he walks into your bedroom. No, it’s not yours. It’s the guest room. You were his guest. “I asked if you needed a ride and you said you had one. Why didn’t you go?” He sounds angry? Concerned? Upset?

“My ride fell through. I was going to reschedule but-”

“You didn’t reschedule right away? Did you call and say you weren’t going to make it?” His arms are crossed and he’s standing, weight shifted to the left, a very defensive pose. Why was he getting all upset? It wasn’t as if you weren’t living with a medical professional who kept tabs on you every day. It wasn’t like it was a big deal that some other doctor didn’t get to look at your leg. Shawn was more than enough, you thought.

“Shawn, I called but they had no openings this week. I said I would call back tomorrow after I found out when you would be available to take me,” you speak calmly, voice soft and level as to not irritate him any further. “My sister’s car was hit by a snow plow. She won’t be taking me anywhere for a while.”

“Oh,” Shawn runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He paces just inside the doorway, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Sorry I snapped at you. It’s been a long day, I shouldn’t make excuses though. I should have let you finish talking.” He looks over at you and you just smile a little at him. It was interesting, getting to see what he was like when he wasn’t actively trying to be perfect. “I can take you whenever. I don’t have any meetings and I’ll just be doing early morning rotations in the ER on Monday and Wednesday. The rest of the week I’m going to be working over nights as a back up in the trauma ward.”

“I hate over nights,” you mumble.

Shawn smirks and takes a step toward you. “You hate overnights because.....?”

You shrug. There was no way you were going to tell him it was because you hated being alone in his house at night. That you would miss him making you tea before bed and watching Cake Boss reruns until it was after midnight. Because that was becoming a thing you really enjoyed. “They just suck,” you say and he laughs.

“You’re not the one that has to work them!” He comes over and sits down next to you on the bed. “I think you hate them because you’ll miss me.”

“Yeah right.” You roll your eyes. The pink tint to your cheeks gives you away though. He knows you like him. “What is there to miss?”

He looks appalled. “Uh, excuse me, I am very missable.”

“Hmm, I don’t see where.” You look at him and then look around him and laugh, “Yeah, you’re too big to miss.”

“Not what I meant,” he groans and you giggle, knowing you’re getting under his skin. “You’re such a little shit.” You smile big and he pushes you back on the bed, falling back to lay with you. “For real. Why don’t you like my overnights?”

“It’s weird being alone in a place that isn’t mine.”

Shawn looks over and you’re looking up at the ceiling. He bumps his hand against yours and you clench your jaw, tamping down a little squeal of excitement that nearly escaped you. “It could be your place. If you wanted.”

“Are you asking me to move in?” Your heart is racing. This is a little crazy. No. This is a lot crazy. Sure, you really liked Shawn’s place and you really liked spending time with him and talking to him. But moving in, like for real? That was some advanced relationship level stuff. Not two and a half weeks stuff. The idea seems crazy logically but your heart says it’s perfect and you want nothing more than to wake up and see him every day. You think it must be because you know he’s your soulmate and you must be projecting your dreams on to him. This sort of thing doesn’t happen and doesn’t work out. You realize he hasn’t replied and you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. “Shawn?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He covers his face with his hand that isn’t touching yours.

You hook your pinky finger with his and he lifts his head to look down at your hands together. “It’s okay. You just got caught up in the moment.”

“Isn’t that when the truth really comes out?” he asks quietly.

“Might be.” You look over and he’s staring at you, a smile on his face. He looks so cute like this, so boyish, not at all like the grown ass drop dead gorgeous doctor he really was. It makes you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach, knowing that this was something you would get to see as often as you liked if you were a couple.

Shawn curls his pinky into yours and says, “We should take a look at that leg, since you missed your appointment and all.”

You wake up in the middle of the night a few days later. The power is out and you can tell by the eerie silence in the house. No background hum of the furnace, no quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, nothing but dead air filling every room. It’s strange, the noises you are used to hearing when you think things are actually quiet. You sit up and look around the room, it’s dark but not pitch black, the lights outside reflecting off the snow outside creates a dim glow about the bedroom. There’s a storm going on and it’s loud. The winds practically roaring around the trees and homes, snow flying every which way. Whether it's falling from the sky, being kicked up off the ground or falling from rooftops, you couldn’t tell. Everything was white as far as you could see out the window from the bed.

“Are you awake?” you hear Shawn ask from just beyond your door. He pushes it open and walks in, careful not to trip on his own two feet. “Do you know how long it’s been out?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I just got up. I think the wind woke me up.” The window rattles violently and you jump, gripping the blankets, eyes snapping to it. Shawn walks over and makes sure the lock is tight, pushing it in hard and flipping down the little locking mechanism on top. The last thing anyone needed was a window blowing open in a storm like this. “Do you think the basement would be warmer?” you ask as he turns to you.

“Definitely. We should get down there before it gets too cold up here. The couch has a pull out bed in the den,” Shawn says and comes to stand beside the bed. “I’ll have to carry you down.”

“O-oh. I’m sure I could make it if I scooted down the steps?”

“I am not letting you scoot down the stairs in the dark. Speaking of which, I need to get some flashlights for us, my phone isn’t bright enough. Stay here.”

You laugh and throw your hands up comically, “Oh yeah, cuz I’m gonna get up and walk away.”

Shawn laughs and leaves the room to go get some flashlights from a utility drawer. He returns with a bag of candles and a single flashlight. “I swear I have five flashlights somewhere but of course I can only find one.” He tosses it to you and you flip it on. It’s one of those really bright LED bar light kind. It illuminates a good portion of the room. Shawn hands you the bag of candles and stands beside you.

“Are you going to be able to lift me?” you ask nervously as his arm comes around your back. “I’m not like super light or anyTHING!” He lifts you up with ease, surprising you, one arm around your back and the other under your knees. You’re pressed against his chest and holding the light down against your stomach. You lay your head against his shoulder. It feels so intimate and you lose yourself in the moment until-

“The light, honey,” Shawn says softly and you lift the light up. “Thanks, wouldn’t want to accidentally drop you.”

“Y-yeah.”

Shawn carries you out of the guest room and to the living room where the door to the basement was. He’s careful as he steps down each stair and you hold on to him, arms around his neck, fearing he could accidentally lose his footing at any moment and send you sprawling. Twelve suspenseful steps later and you’re in the basement. It’s still very warm and from what you can see it’s spacious, fully finished, and it looks like another living room but slightly smaller. There are two doors on the left of the staircase and another along the far wall. “There’s a bathroom down here, so we don’t have to worry about making a trip upstairs for that,” Shawn says as he carries you into the room.

“I hope the storm passes soon,” you say as Shawn lays you down carefully on the couch. He hums in agreement as he starts setting up candles all over and lighting them with a lighter he had in the bag as well. Soon the room is bathed in a soft orange glow and Shawn turns the flashlight off, setting it on the coffee table he dragged aside so he could pull out the bed from the secondary couch.

“Do you mind sharing the bed with me?” he asks as he locks the legs of the fold out bed in place. He goes to one of the doors beside the stairs, a closet it seems, and pulls some blankets and pillows out of it.

“I don’t think so? Why would I?” You are glad he can’t see your face as you say this. It would have given you away so hard. Of course you would mind. He was huge and cuddly and he smelled good and he was everything you ever dreamed of. How could you not mind?

“You’re not worried about me bumping your leg?” Oh. There was that. He comes over to you after a moment and squats down in front of you on the floor. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally kick it and have you be in pain.”

The way the light reflects off his skin makes him look otherworldly. He’s all soft looking with his dark eyes, tousled dark hair, and cute concerned look upon his face and he stares up at you. “I think I’ll be alright. You wrapped it really well. I haven’t had any problems.”

Shawn nods and hums. The next thing you know he wraps his hands around your thigh, well, mostly around your thigh, and he’s looking up at you. “How’s it feel?” he asks and you can almost see his cheeks flush bright red as he realizes what he’s said to you and how suggestive it sounded. “I mean your leg. Is it cold?”

You wiggle your toes a little, trying to get a sense of how it felt. “Um, I’m not sure? I’m a little chilly all over?”

“Do you mind if I-” Shawn lifts the hem of your borrowed sleep pants. They’re a pair of his and they’re really loose around your legs. You nod, letting him lift the pant leg up over your cast, bunching it up around your mid thigh. He slides his hand over your knee and cups the bit of your calf that isn’t covered with bandages. “It’s pretty cold. Do you mind if I try to get the blood circulating a bit?”

You aren’t sure how much blood he’s going to get to circulate because you’re pretty sure it’s all run to your face and between your legs. The way his hand was resting on your thigh and the other one around your calf had you so turned on you couldn’t think straight. “Can it be cold?”

“I would prefer it wasn’t. I don’t want to have any circulatory problems with it if it gets too cold. That’s the last thing you need. I asked if you wouldn’t mind because what I want to do may seem a little intimate.”

“I- uh...what are you going to do?

Shawn slides your pant leg back down over your cast and then puts his hands on your leg. “I’ll need to massage your thigh, stroking downward toward your knee. I might massage up here too,” he touches your hip and the side of your pelvic bone,” I promise, no funny business.”

“I know. Alright, go ahead.”

Shawn picks you up bridal style again and moves you to the couch bed. It’s almost like a dream the way the candles are lighting up the room, Shawn is laying you on the bed, his hands soon to be all over you. If this was your honeymoon, you might have died. But it wasn’t. It was a snowstorm and your leg was getting colder by the second. “Let me know if I hurt you,” he says, kneeling on the bed next to you and putting his hands around your thigh. He strokes downward, applying light pressure and then goes back to the top and starts again. He does this over and over again, his fingers coming close to the heat between your legs. There is no way he doesn’t feel how hot you are for him.

“Does it feel better?” he asks.

“Y-yeah?”

Shawn slides his hands up, fingers rubbing gently down your hip and your groin to your leg. You let out a soft moan and he freezes, hands on your hip. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no. I think it’s fine. You can stop.”

“Oh,” he says and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh I see. I’m sorry I should have realized you might get turned on.”

You flush red with embarrassment. He can’t tell in the dim light, but you hide your face anyways. “I should get some sleep,” you mumble into the pillow you’ve put over your face. “Goodnight.” You roll on your side and try to ignore Shawn as he crawls to the other side of the bed and pulls a blanket up over the two of you. He chuckles and you groan softly into the pillow.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, P13  Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note:

Hello, everyone! I know I said this chapter was going to be super short, but I had a chance to write for a whole hour this week (a miracle!) so it turned out longer than I originally thought :) It’s pretty consistent with the usual word count now. On that note, huge thank you to @girl-tips-from-satan for listening to me ramble and helping me enormously with this chapter. 

Also, I tipped 300 followers! That’s insane. If you guys ever want to talk about anything, feel free to send me a message! I would love to get to know you guys better. 💞💞💞 (Plus, if you guys have any questions about this fic, ask away! I’ll answer anything I can without spoiling too much 😉)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 14

Without further ado,

Then Again, Part 13:

(Words: 1,483)

He came back?

A hard crash in the bathroom slaps me awake. The consequent groan confirms it’s Peter who’s likely just tripped over his own feet. My eyes snap open on impact and my heart leaps.

The light from the bathroom is outlining the door in harsh gold, a shadow darkening the left floor corner. I close my eyes again, unable to handle the sudden light, and focus on keeping my body completely still. I’d rather he doesn’t know I’m awake. I’m not ready for what we might say to each other.

I just can’t believe he came back.

This thought swims the perimeter of my brain again and again, almost endlessly alongside my concentration to stay still until, of course, the door eventually opens. There’s a burst of light popping red against my eyelids. Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move. It’s only a second though before it goes black once more. If I could make a sound, I’d sigh.

The moment the door closes though, the silent air freezes. If I could see anything, I’m certain I would be able to pick out every particle of dust in the room halted, standing like statues in their assigned places. Everything around me - and me - feels trapped in this tiny timeframe. At once I’m far too warm.

He really came back?

Peter’s trying to be quiet, I can tell. Maybe that’s why I’m too aware of myself. My breathing shifts from an involuntary function to a mess of trying to regulate it consciously. I hate it. Breathe in. One, two, three, four. And out for five, four, three-

I hear something creak near the window. Is he really-? But then I realize it’s only the closet. He’s staying, then? I wish I were facing the other way so I could try to peek and see what he’s doing.

Without warning the blanket pulls.

What-?

The bed dips behind me, the springs compressing enough that I can sense exactly where Peter’s weight is centered. He’s inches from my back.

Holy shit.

His head must be close to mine on the pillow because something is tickling my scalp. What else is it, if not his breathing near my hair?

God, I’m still thinking about my own breathing.

Peter adjusts slightly.

Focus. In for one, two, three, four. And out for five, four, three, two, one. Shut up, brain, please. The heaviness in my lungs is making it difficult though. I need to turn over to relieve the pressure on my ribcage.

Slowly, steadily, and as convincingly as possible, I roll my shoulders over and push my legs to follow. It’s awkward and disjointed. As it would be, probably, if I were asleep. For good measure, I place my arm over my eyes. That should keep me from trying to sneak a glance. I really shouldn’t risk him knowing I’m not asleep particularly because I should be. The competition. I need to be ready. If I let Michelle down-

He’s touching me. What is he doing? His fingers are brushing mine as if - but now they’re gone. What?

One, two, three, four. Five, four, three two one. One two three four. Five four three-

Peter’s voice nearly makes me jolt.

“I’m serious about what I said before.” He pauses. My mind sprints through too many of things he said tonight and my stomach drops. “I’m really, really sorry.” What? “Anything you decide is suitable, I’ll do whatever you want if it helps you forgive me. I swear, I never meant to be such a jerk and I’ll never act like that again. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

He’s apologizing… and for the second time tonight, apparently.

That’s Peter. That’s the person I’ve been friends with for so long. He’s really back.

It’s unbelievable, I realize, how much I’ve missed him this week.

All I want is for us to be on the same side again.

My hand feels cold now, my fingers itching to have his back for a moment. I think I get the gesture now. Coming from Peter, it might’ve been a question, a mini request for compromise, a hint at truce in case I was awake. The shock of the initial contact made it weird in the moment, but in hindsight, it is uniquely Peter. Almost weird, but oddly perfect in context. I can’t believe he’s back.

Come tomorrow, the two of us are going to have a lot to work through and I know that. Yet… I almost want to say something, to signal back that it’s okay. If his apology is genuine, as it sounds and I trust it is, I should do something too, right?

God, I’m just going to do stupid things until I die. With that in mind, I ignore the protests forming in my head and let my who cares? side have control for once.

I roll over onto his side of the bed and, quite frankly, onto him. Sort of. My hand fumbles across his shoulder before awkwardly reaching across his middle to latch on, as Michelle is well familiar with. He half-jumps. By instinct, I immediately pull myself closer, my fingers pressing themselves against his bare ribcage.

Why didn’t you change into pajamas? Damn you, Peter.

I really thought he would at least have a t-shirt.

Although I’ve seen him shirtless a handful of times before, like an hour ago, it’s suddenly a very different thing to physically feel him this way.

“Uh, um. Y/N? Are… are you awake?”

Don’t move a muscle, definitely don’t answer.

“I don’t want to be weird or anything….” He hesitates. “But my arm is going to go numb if- if I stay like this. So it’s, you know, logical I guess, if I move a bit? But if it’s weird you can, you know, just hit me or something. Or maybe I should sleep on the floor? I was going to once I-”

I force a fake, drawn-out exhale and for some stupid, idiotic reason, I pull myself up a bit more, my leg by habit (I’ll pretend) following the overall motion to slide between his knees. Why am I like this? I can picture how this must look: Peter on his back, his arm crushed under me as I cling to him like a koala bear or tree frog. Our ankles knock against each other slightly. That itself gives me a sense of security, like being locked into a safe place.

Peter stills.

“So you’re not awake?”

Only Peter would ask this right now. The question tickles the top of my head. I can tell from the quick intake of breath that he’s about to keep talking - but given the situation, I think my heart might combust if he whispers another apology.

“Peter,” I mumble. “Please, shut up.”

His chest freezes under my head. He definitely knows I’m awake now. He nods.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Why did I have to say something?

My face is burning and his skin seems more like a furnace than a human body. I could play it off tomorrow as if I had been still asleep... but he knows, he has to know. That really wasn’t a convincing still-sleeping voice. Just as I consider rolling off the bed, rolling under it, and staying there for the next twenty years, Peter moves.

He slides his arm from under my own and wraps it around my shoulders. His right hand brushes my hair away from my face.

I’ll be surprised if he can’t feel the heat from my forehead. God, why are we always so awkward?

I expect him to stop there, but he combs through, rather hesitantly, twice more. The second time, one of his fingers catches on a tangle. He accidentally tugs it (I bite my cheek to keep from jumping) before he pauses and half-pats my head like sorry, my bad. He drops his hand to his side and sighs. His breathing begins to deepen. Admittedly, I wish he hadn’t stopped.

Peter shifts slightly.

He starts to say something, but hesitates - a half-formed sound trailing off.

Then, there’s a long pause. We both seem to be waiting for the other.

What are we going to do after tomorrow, Peter?

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

This time, I don’t say anything back.

Instead, I kick the corner of the blanket bunched around my foot - the one that isn’t between his legs - until I can tell it’s finally covering both of his feet too. Once I’m certain he has enough of the blanket, I settle in a bit more and hope he doesn’t think it’s weird.

This is such a stupid idea.

Still, it’s better than I imagined. And how many times have I imagined this? An embarrassing amount and honestly -

His arms tighten around me. The knots in the back of my neck relax.

It’s a thousand times better than I imagined.

Shit.

Part 14

Next update: November 24*

*I really, really want to avoid skipping updates at all costs, but I am worried that my next chapter won’t be ready in time. If not, I’ll update as soon as it’s ready! Hopefully, though, I can catch a break this week and keep to Nov. 24. I’ll do everything I can, I promise!

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[dragon-temeraire]

Snowbound

Summary: Derek and Stiles + a cabin in Michigan + a lot of snow = Pining

Notes: This post made me want to write a fic that had snowed in, bed sharing, and mutual pining. Though I am by no means claiming that this is a god-tier fic! (On AO3)

“What the hell?” Stiles grumbles, watching the snow fall outside the window. It’s very beautiful, but also very unwanted. “It’s April.”

“Sometimes it snows until May here,” Derek says, and Stiles scowls.

“Well, if this trip is good for anything, it’s for showing me that Michigan is an awful place,” he huffs. “So much for having fun up here. I wanted to see the Mystery Spot!”

“The Mystery Spot is pretty lame,” Derek says, sitting on the couch next to him. “It’s just a crooked building on a hill.”

“Dude, there’s a zip line,” Stiles says, because he has his priorities in order. “But now we’re gonna be stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, for who knows how long.”

Derek looks vaguely guilty for a moment. “Look, the Northeast pack offered to let us use this cabin as part of negotiations. So we had to come, or else they’d think we were being rude,” he says neutrally.

“Yeah, but it should have been Scott and Kira here. Being snowed in would be super romantic for them.” Stiles knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s gonna be stuck in a cabin with the werewolf of his dreams, and there’s no way it’s not going to get awkward.

“They still had several pack meetings left to do,” Derek says logically.

Though he wants to resent it, Stiles does appreciate how level-headed Derek has become over the years.

“Besides,” he finishes, “you did agree to go.”

“Yeah, to fulfill a lifelong dream of driving my jeep cross-country!”

And he’d actually had a lot of fun road tripping it up here with Derek, both of them taking turns behind the wheel. They’d managed to make in across the Mackinac Bridge before it had started to snow, but by the time they’d gotten to the cabin it had been coming down heavily. They’d hurriedly grabbed all their stuff and hauled it inside, and Derek had gotten a fire going in the living room fireplace.

And Stiles discovered that, while this cabin might be rustic, it at least had electricity and running water. It actually seemed pretty nice, but Stiles had chosen to sit on the couch and complain about the weather, rather than see the rest of the place.

He’s pretty sure they’re not going anywhere anytime soon, so he might as well remedy that.

“I’m gonna look around,” he says. “Check out our new digs.”

“Oh, boy,” Derek says, like he’s expecting the worst.

Stiles elects to ignore that.

He pokes through the cupboards in the kitchen first, and is relieved to see that they’re well-stocked with food. So they probably won’t starve.

Derek had told him the nearest town was only about ten miles away, but that seems way too far in this kind of weather. Though if he had to, Derek could probably make the walk, even in a blizzard.

He looks in the bathroom next, and is pleased to see that there’s a big tub. He might have to try a nice, relaxing soak later.

Just down the hall is the bedroom, and Stiles peeks inside, curious. This is evidently where Derek had put some of their luggage, because it’s arranged neatly against the wall. But he can’t help noticing that in the middle of this lovely, spacious bedroom is only one bed.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

He briefly considers sleeping on the couch, but he knows he’d be way too cold, even if he got up every few hours to add wood to the fire. And he’ll be perfectly cozy if he shares a bed with Derek, because Stiles knows for a fact that he puts out heat like a furnace. (He may have fallen asleep on Derek during a pack movie night. Maybe.)

This is what Derek’s expecting him to make a fuss over, and he refuses to do it. Even if he is freaking out on the inside.

He’s been wanting to end up in bed with Derek for ages, but not like this.

This is going to be awkward.

He goes back into the living room with a smile pasted on his face. “Guess we’re gonna be snuggle buddies,” he says brightly.

Derek shakes his head, but he looks amused. Then he goes to back to working on the crossword puzzle book he bought at the last gas station they visited.

What a dork.

Stiles digs through his bag, looks at all the books he brought, and sighs. None of them are calling to him right now. Knowing that they’re stuck here is beginning to make him feel restless and agitated.

When he says as much to Derek, he cocks his head and says, “We can’t drive anywhere, but you can still go outside. Just bundle up.”

Stiles grimaces at that, because he certainly didn’t pack any snow gear. He was expecting nice April weather. He ends up borrowing some stuff from Derek, layering a few of his shirts over his own.

When he walks back into the living room, there’s a flare of something in Derek’s eyes, just for a second, when he sees Stiles wearing his clothes.

Whoops, maybe he should have asked first.

“I see you decided to steal some of my clothes for this winter outing,” Derek says neutrally.

“The word is borrow, Derek,” Stiles says, hoping to make him smile. “I swear you’ll get everything back. Eventually.”

And if he’d happened to actually steal one of Derek’s thumbhole sweaters right out of his closet, well, he just really hopes Derek hasn’t noticed yet.

Derek makes a snort of disbelief, then goes back to his puzzle.

Stiles takes that as his cue to leave, and he shoves his hands into his gloves as he pulls the front door open. The cold is a sharp shock to his exposed face, and he blinks rapidly as the wind stings his eyes. He’s not sure this was such a great idea.

But then he imagines how smug Derek will be if he goes back inside after two seconds, and it strengthens his resolve. He walks carefully out to the middle of the yard, liking the way the snow crunches under his feet.

It’s already almost up to his knees and still coming down, so fast that he can only see a few feet in front of him. He tips up his head to watch it fall, and can’t resist sticking out his tongue to catch some of the tiny flakes.

Everything seems so quiet and still out here, and the snow smells crisp and clean. He stands there admiring it for a while, breath streaming out in front of him, before he decides to do something.

He doesn’t have much snowman building experience, so he makes a tiny one first. Then, because it’s so cute, he makes another. It turns out kind of lopsided, and its head is too big, but he likes it anyway.

Though he is tempted to wrap a scarf around its neck and call it Isaac.

He snickers to himself, picturing it, then decides he’s going to make a snowman for everyone in the pack. When he’s done, he’ll take a photo, and he can joke that they were all really here with him after all.

He works on his technique until it gets dark. He’s feeling pretty chilled anyway, so he figures it’s time to go back inside.

The heat briefly smothers him when he steps through the door, and makes him shiver a little. He hangs his jacket up by the door, and after a moment of consideration, leaves his snowy boots on the mat. The cold feels like it’s clinging to his layers, so he slips off his outer pair of pants, too.

“Did you have fun?” Derek calls from the kitchen, and Stiles goes to investigate.

“I did, yeah,” he says, and sees that Derek has soup heating on the stove.

“I’m glad,” Derek says, giving him a little smile. “And you had good timing, dinner’s almost ready.” He softly touches Stiles’ arm, and guides him to the kitchen table. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you some in a minute, it’ll warm you up for sure.”

Stiles grins, feeling warmer already.

 *

 He’s in his pajamas, his teeth are freshly brushed, and the floor is icy-cold even through his socks, but he still hesitates.

Derek looks up from his book, and catches him lingering in the doorway. “Well?” he says, lifting the blankets on the other side of the bed, and his eyebrows mock Stiles.

He ends up practically vaulting into the bed, wiggling under the covers as fast as he can. Derek has several quilts piled on, and Stiles figures that’s mainly for his benefit. It’s pretty cozy, and he squirms around a bit, getting himself tucked in nicely.

When he’s finally comfortable, he catches Derek eyeing him in amusement. “You good?” he asks, and Stiles can almost hear the laugh in his voice.

“Very,” he answers, feeling contented and sleepy. “I apologize in advance if I kick you,” he mumbles. Or if I accidentally touch you.

“It’ll be fine,” Derek says, and turns off the lamp.

Stiles drifts off to sleep, reminding himself to stay on his own side of the bed.

 *

 And when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’s still right where he’s supposed to be. But despite being under the covers, he’s absolutely freezing. He tries to burrow in deeper as he curls into a ball, but it doesn’t help. His feet feel like ice blocks.  

Fuck.

And there’s no way he’s getting out of this bed to bank the fire.

So there’s only one other option—get closer to the natural heater sharing the bed with him.

Stiles stretches out onto his side, and then slowly, carefully inches back toward Derek, hoping not to wake him. In the dark, it’s difficult to estimate how much space is really between them, so he startles a little when he actually bumps into Derek.

Well, it is warmer already. He edges away, then tries to lean into Derek’s space without actually touching him. He’s concentrating really hard, so it takes him by surprise when Derek suddenly slings an arm over Stiles and pulls him back against his chest.

“You cold?” he asks sleepily, his hand pleasantly warm against Stiles’ stomach.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, but he’s definitely feeling better now.

“Mmm. Thought so,” Derek mumbles. Then he’s moving again, fitting his legs right up behind Stiles’, his hips settling softly against Stiles’ ass.

It’s actually…really nice, being the little spoon. He feels warm and safe, surrounded by Derek like this.

He lets Derek’s heat seep through him, lets his tense muscles loosen up, and drifts back to sleep.

 *

 When he wakes up in the morning, they’re in pretty much the same positon, but there’s a little more space between their bodies. What had seemed like a good idea at three in the morning seems dangerous now, but the feeling of Derek’s arm curled over his side is too good for Stiles to actually move.

Though being awake while this close to Derek is making him a little too warm. His jackrabbiting heart must give him away, because Derek stirs a few moments later.

It almost feels like he nuzzles the back of Stiles neck, and his hand skates across Stiles’ ribs before he rumbles, “Good morning,” and rolls out of bed.

There’s an inrush of cold air under the blankets, and Stiles yelps and quickly cocoons himself up, ducking his head under the covers, too. There’s no way he’s getting out of this nice, warm bed. He lives here now.

There’s a long lull where he starts to doze off, then Derek says, “I got a fire going in the living room, it’s nice and toasty in there.”

Stiles doesn’t budge.

“So you can get up now,” Derek says pointedly.

“Don’t wanna,” Stiles mumbles.

“Why not?” Derek asks, clearly humoring him.

“I’m warm in here,” Stiles says from his blanket nest. “It’s cold out there.”

There’s some noise, then something lands on top of the covers. When he peeks out, he sees that it’s one of Derek’s soft, cozy sweaters.

Oh, so Derek’s volunteering his clothes now. Stiles can’t help feeling pleased.

He emerges enough to wiggle into the sweater, pulling it on over his pajama shirt. When he looks back up, Derek is watching him, one eyebrow cocked.

“Well?”

“Still not getting out of bed,” Stiles says cheerfully. “I’m too comfortable to touch that ice-cold floor.”

Derek sighs, but he starts digging in his bag again. After a moment, he grabs something out and tosses it over. It bounces gently off Stiles’ chest and lands in his lap.

“Ooh,” he says when he realizes it’s a pair of the thickest, snuggliest socks ever. “Wow, I’ve never seen these before,” he says, carefully unfolding them. They feel like a soft cloud.

“They’re from when I used to live in New York,” Derek says.

“Oh.” Stiles tries not to react. Derek never talks about New York. “They must have been great for the winters there.”

“Yeah, I loved them,” Derek says. And though he’s smiling, he looks a little bit sad. “We used to have about fifteen pairs, one in every color they made.”

Stiles isn’t really sure what to say, because he doesn’t want to upset Derek. He never wants that. Instead, he just quietly says, “Thank you.”

Derek nods. “I’m going to get breakfast started,” he says.

After a few moments, Stiles carefully, gently slides the socks on, then edges out of bed and joins Derek in the kitchen.

 *

 The snow is still coming down that afternoon, and Stiles decides he doesn’t want to go back out in it. Not today, anyway.

He gets bored, though, so he starts rummaging around the cabin instead. He finds a big box of craft supplies under the bed, and cackles gleefully when he opens it up.

“Hey, Derek!” he calls. “We’re allowed to use whatever we want, right?”

“Yes,” Derek says, but his tone sounds worried, like he thinks Stiles is going to get himself into trouble.

And that’s fair, really. But he’s not going to do anything that involves fire this time.

He’s pulling out partial skeins of yarn when Derek walks in. “Going to take up knitting?” he asks, smirking. “You know we’re not actually going to be here that long, right?”

“Says you,” Stiles grumbles. “It’s still snowing.” He shrugs. “Besides, I’m just working on a little project to keep myself occupied.”

“Okay,” Derek says, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Then he goes back to the living room, probably to work on his crosswords, or maybe Sudoku. He likes all kinds of puzzles, Stiles has discovered.

After a few more minutes of sitting on the floor, Stiles decides to join him. Derek has a nice fire going in the living room, so he knows its way warmer in there.

He begins to wish he could knit as he carefully weaves and knots the yarn together. He’s only trying to make a passable miniature scarf, but it’s harder work than he thought it’d be. He catches Derek giving him amused looks from time to time, so at least his efforts are keeping them both entertained.

“Ta da!” he says delightedly when he’s done.

Derek looks over and laughs. “I don’t think that’s gonna fit you,” he says.

“It’s not supposed to,” Stiles says, laying the tiny scarf over the arm of the couch. He considers beginning work on a tiny bow and arrow for Allison’s snowman, but his stomach decides it’s time to eat instead.

He makes grilled cheese sandwiches while Derek warms up the leftover soup, and it feels nice. It’s pleasantly domestic to cook with Derek.

Stiles feels pretty lazy after that, so he opens up his laptop and sprawls on the couch with it. There’s no internet, but he still has Minesweeper and Solitaire. And it’s really easy to sneak peeks around the screen, catching glimpses of Derek’s concentration-face as he works his way through his puzzle book.

His little frown when he’s stumped is very cute.

 *

 Stiles pokes around in the bathroom after dinner, and is delighted to find a bottle of bubble bath. He decides he’s going to have a nice, long soak before bedtime.

He fills the tub and plays with the bubbles for a while, then settles in with as much of himself under the water as he can. He has his eyes closed, and is in a state of total relaxation, when there’s a tap on the door. He doesn’t move at all, just opens his mouth enough to say, “Come in.”

He hears the door open, and then Derek says, “I know you probably aren’t planning to get out any time soon, but I wanted to let you know that I found a chocolate pie in the freezer. I have it thawing now, so just keep that in mind.”

“Mmm,” Stiles says, smiling. “Well played. I’ll be out soon.”

It’s only after Derek leaves, and he manages to drag open his eyes, that he realizes the bubbles have almost completely disappeared. So Derek probably saw more than he was expecting when he opened the door. Oops.

 *

 Stiles does manage to get out of the tub eventually. It’s mostly because the water was getting cold, but Derek doesn’t need to know that. He towels off, then puts on his flannel pajamas, because he likes to feel cozy. They’re also plaid, which is sort of his trademark by now.

He sits at the kitchen table and eats the delicious pie with Derek. And honestly, Stiles just never gets tired of watching him enjoy the simple things in life. He deserves all those tiny joys more than anyone, he’s sure.

“So,” Derek says when they’re done eating. “While you were soaking, I found a space heater we can put in the bedroom. Maybe then you won’t be so cold tonight.”

He says it teasingly, so Stiles figures he didn’t actually mind the impromptu cuddling last night.

 *

 The space heater doesn’t work.

Or it does, but just barely. Stiles tries to put it right next to the bed, but Derek warns him that the sheets might catch fire. Stiles is very sure their situation won’t be improved by him burning the cabin down, so he quickly moves the heater back.

After he slides into bed, Derek immediately pulls him close, no pretense at all. Stiles lets himself relax back against Derek, liking the feeling of being practically covered by him. The warmth and the contact are making his heart race, though. He’s not sure how much of this platonic night time snuggling he can take. Not without breaking and telling Derek he’s in love with him.

Being held like this makes him feel…vulnerable.

“This okay?” Derek asks then, his arm already starting to lift away.

“It’s good,” Stiles says quickly, his hand curling around Derek’s wrist. He’ll savor this while he can.

There’s a long pause, and then Derek slowly unwinds again, curling up close to Stiles. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Stiles whispers back. He falls asleep surprisingly fast, and he doesn’t wake up cold even once.

 *

 When he wakes up in the morning, Stiles is delighted to find that it’s no longer snowing. When he says as much to Derek, he just shrugs and says, “Yeah, it stopped yesterday evening.”

“How was I supposed to know? We don’t all have werewolf senses.”

“No werewolf senses required,” Derek says, smirking. “You just had to look out the window.”

Stiles elects to ignore that, and starts cracking eggs for breakfast. Derek grins and starts cooking the bacon.

Since it looks nice out, Stiles decides to work on his project that afternoon. He bundles up, but is then halted at the door by Derek, who makes him tie trash bags to his feet.

“Those thick socks won’t do you any good if they’re soaked through,” he says sternly when Stiles tries to protest.

He did get snow in his boots last time, so he supposes Derek has a point. And he’ll be able to stay out there longer if he’s not freezing.

The snow is sloped up against the door, so Stiles carefully squeezes out, trying not to let too much get inside the cabin. Then he tromps out into the yard, and starts working on his first snowman.

Derek edges out the door a few minutes later, snow shovel in hand. He quickly clears off the porch while Stiles pretends not to watch. He’s never failed to admire Derek’s easy physicality.

Derek has a flush on his cheeks by the time he’s done, and Stiles can’t help being disappointed when he heads back inside.

Then he gets back to work, and tries to figure out if he can sculpt a snow wolf. Or maybe he’ll just make a life size snowman, and put Derek’s leather jacket on it. Either way, he’ll save that for last.

He gets the Isaac snowman done pretty quickly, despite his amateur skills. He pulls the tiny scarf out of his pocket, and wraps it carefully, stylishly, around the snowman’s neck. Somehow, it manages to look smug, and Stiles grins.

Perfect.

He quickly yanks off his gloves, and grabs his phone out as the cold bites painfully into his hands. He snaps a picture, then moves to a better angle and takes another. Then he shoves his gloves back on and starts working again.

He’s in the middle of making Erica’s snowman when Derek comes back out. “Stiles, come inside,” he calls from the porch.

“I haven’t been out here that long,” Stiles protests. “I’m not getting frost bite, I promise.”

“That’s not it,” Derek says quickly. “There’s another storm on the way.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, and suddenly realizes that Derek isn’t even wearing shoes. He obviously came out in a hurry.

Stiles drags himself out of the snow drift he was working in, and starts making his way to the porch as fast as he can in the deep snow. The wind starts picking up as he does, and a hard gust sends powdery snow right into his face.

He flails, trying to wipe it away, and ends up stumbling and falling down into the snow. He squirms, trying to get up, but snow is heavy. He feels like he’s stuck, and just as he’s about to really start freaking out, Derek grabs the back of his jacket and lifts him up, up, until he has Stiles slung over his shoulder.  

Then he wades through the snow, and doesn’t set Stiles down until they reach the front door.

Stiles, who got snow down the front of his jacket, shivers and hurriedly follows Derek inside. They stop at the big mat in the entryway and carefully take off their snow-covered clothes. For Stiles it’s just his outer layers, but Derek on the other hand—

Stiles has to quickly look away when he takes off his shirt and pants.

“Stiles, give me your stuff so I can put it in the dryer,” he says, and Stiles carefully hands everything over while continuing to avert his gaze.

Then he just keeps standing there, shivering, as Derek heads for the laundry room. A few moments later, a towel hits him in the face.

“You have snow in your hair,” Derek says helpfully, smirking at him.

Stiles is just relieved to see he’s put clothes on.

 *

 It doesn’t snow much more, but the storm blows it into swirls and eddies, makes it patter against the windows. Stiles has never been so grateful to be warm and dry.

Playing in the snow has tired him out, so before he even thinks about it, he slumps down on the couch, resting his head on Derek’s thigh. It hits him an instant too late that it’s probably a bad idea, but then Derek’s hand is settling in his hair, and he suddenly doesn’t care.

The fabric of Derek’s sweat pants is soft against his cheek, and he nuzzles in a little, letting his eyes drift shut. He dozes for a while, and when he wakes up, Derek has the little radio on the side table turned on. It’s too low for him to make out what’s being broadcasted, so he looks at Derek questioningly as he sits up.

“It’s a report on the storm,” Derek says. “It’s nearly over. They’re going to start clearing the roads tomorrow.”

“Sweet,” Stiles says cheerfully.

“Though we’ll still have to shovel out the driveway,” Derek adds pragmatically.

“Ah, you could get that done in twenty minutes,” Stiles says dismissively.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You realize there’s more than three feet of snow out there, right?” he says. “Also, this cabin is really only equipped for summer use. There’s no snow blower, there’s only the shovel I was using.”

“So it’s going to take a little longer, is what you’re saying,” Stiles says, shrugging.

Derek nods, but he looks kind of…guilty.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well,” Derek starts carefully. “They’re going to start plowing tomorrow. But they probably won’t get to this country road for another three days.”

“Three days?” Stiles repeats, shocked. “By then it’ll have started snowing again! We’re never gonna get out of here!”

He expects Derek to say something sensible or reassuring. Instead he just looks down and says, “I need to apologize to you.”

Stiles blinks at the non sequitur. “For what?” he asks, because he honestly can’t think of anything Derek has done wrong.

“For getting you stuck here, in the middle of nowhere,” Derek says quietly. “I knew it was going to snow—I could smell it in the air. And I was going to have you drive us into town, so we could stay at a hotel until the storm passed.”

“So why didn’t you?” He’s not angry, just curious.

“I had hoped,” Derek says, scratching his stubble nervously. “That if I spend some time with you here, I’d be able to work up the nerve. To tell you how I feel.”

Stiles swallows nervously, his whole body drawing tight in anticipation, and near-whispers, “How do you feel?”

Derek begins to smile. “I specifically requested that Scott send just you and I here. So I’d have the chance to tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Stiles grins back, his heart practically beating out of his chest. “And here I was worried this whole time that you’d figure out I was in love with you.”

“I—I didn’t know,” Derek says, looking genuinely surprised.

“Have been for a while,” Stiles says, leaning closer. “That’s why I was freaking out about being snowed in.”

“Because…you thought I’d find out about your feelings?” Derek asks curiously.

“Yeah, and then you’d turn me down, and then we’d be trapped here together while things got super awkward.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Derek says, amused, “you’re definitely not being turned down.”

Stiles rests his hand on Derek’s arm, and inches closer. “This doesn’t feel awkward, either,” he says.

“Not at all,” Derek murmurs, right before kissing him softly.

 *

 They don’t even notice when the roads get cleared, because they spend the next few days in bed. And Stiles decides that he doesn’t mind being snowed in after all.

Because it definitely has its perks.

 *

 Stiles does get his snowman version of the pack done before they finally leave. (As they’re packing up, Stiles tries to call Scott and tell him they’re snowed in again, but Derek catches him. And reminds him that he has a perfectly nice loft they can spend a lot of quality time in once they get back.)

Derek helps him build the snowmen, and even digs out snow-Isaac’s tiny scarf, which had been buried by the storm. They take several photos of the snow-pack, then they set Stiles’ phone on a timer and take a picture of them kissing in the snow. It turns out great.

When they return to Beacon Hills, Stiles distributes the pictures of the snow-pack to everyone. They smile and laugh, but Stiles knows they’re secretly pleased.

He prints the picture of him and Derek kissing in the snow, and hangs it on the wall of Derek’s bedroom. And he smiles, because it looks like it belongs there.

When Derek comes in a few minutes later, sliding his arms around Stiles’ waist and kissing the back of his neck, he definitely agrees.

[inthepantheon]

The Plot Thickens, Part II

I went back to my office to get some work done before getting ready for my date. It sounds silly, but I am almost giddy about going on a real date with the Captain. The heat from the furnace is inviting as I sit at my desk and go over the details of the case.  There must be some link to all the recent chaos. Why did One-Hand-Willy just now show up? Where has he been? Where the hells are the rest of the people that were in the home? The most irritating question still nagged at me: Who the hells blew up my condo? Someone owed me for all the damages. They blew up some of my favorite shoes. Someone will pay for the Italian leather boots and Prada pumps. And don’t get me started on the clothes and purses that were ruined. I want to find the asshole and beat the crap out of him.  The phone rings, interrupting my internal rant about my ruined girly stuff, and I look at the caller ID to see if I even want to bother answering it. “Captain Renard, our date isn’t for hours. Is everything okay?” “Yes, and no. We may have to reschedule our date. We got a positive ID on the victim’s dental scans. His name is Raphael Rollins. He is linked in the system to the Consweighas.” The name hits me hard. “As in the Consweigha Cartel? The drug and human trafficking ring?” “The one and same.” His voice sounds grim. I understand why. “Okay, thanks for keeping me in the loop. Let me know if you find anything else out.” “I will, and you do the same, okay?”  He sounds like he suspects that I know something I’m not telling him, and he’s right. I know one of the sons in the cartel. I have had dealings with him in the past. I am not ready to share the information yet, though. I hang up the phone after a quick goodbye. I need to find out where Julio Consweighas is and get to him before the locals, or the feds, do.  *** After extensive research and interrogating a few personal CI’s, I trace ol’ Julio to a house in the southern part of the county. I approach the home silently with my .45mm drawn and ready. I don’t want to shoot anyone, but I will if I must. Everything is quiet. If he is here, he isn’t broadcasting it. Swiftly, I go around the back of the property, avoiding any cameras. He is careful, but not careful enough. There is a security system, but it’s not hard to hack. I have more than my fair share of toys from my time with the FBI. They come in handy in times like these.  The light on the security scan clicks green, and I enter the dwelling. Fifty feet from the back door is an armed guard. I silently take him down and drag his body into a nearby closet. I handle three more armed guards the same way and continue to clear the home. Julio isn’t on the first, or second floors. That just leaves the basement. What is it with bad guys doing their nefarious deeds in basements?  I open the door and scan the stairs, then silently descend. Finding the first room clear, I peer around the corner to the second room. There is Julio with two armed guards, a huge pile of money, and a money counter. I can also see an assortment of illegal drugs. I know that if I make my presence known, they will shoot me. I am not in the mood to get shot today. I have too much to do and don’t have the time to sit and heal. Quickly I pop off two precise shots and take out both of his guards. My silencer muffles the sound, so the outside world is none the wiser. Julio immediately grabs his gun and goes for cover. “There is nowhere to run Julio, and no one to save you,” I yell out to him.  “Then come and get me, bitch!”  “You kiss your momma with that mouth?” I yell back. “You keep mi Mama out of your mouth.”  Good, I hit a nerve. If you piss them off, they are more likely to make a mistake. “Ah, aren’t you just the badass? Gonna get your ass kicked by a woman.” “We both know you aren’t no woman, bitch.” “Your Spanglish hurts. It would probably hurt more if you were not such a pussy, hiding behind your gun.” “Put yours down, and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”  “You first!” He puts his gun down and comes out—cocky little fuck. I holster mine and shift into the open. “Oh, I hope you are ready because you fucked up a good day for me.” He charges at me, and I easily avoid the blow. When I was younger, my father taught me that brawn is great, but if you don’t have the brains to back it up, you are in for a real ass whooping. It’s a lesson that I am going to teach Julio today. He turns and rushes me again with a scream.  I sidestep and even kick him in the ass as he rushes by. “I can do this all day. Are you going to keep running by, or hit me? This isn’t tag. Of course, to play you would have to touch me first.” He screams again. Good, I have him nice and pissed off. This time when he rushes me, I swing and plant a good blow to his head. If it surprises him, you can’t tell. The punch knocks him out cold. He falls and hits the floor with a loud thud. That should keep him out for a while. I walk over and nudge him with my foot just to make sure. Yep, he is out. “Good night, asshole, I hope that you have terrible dreams”. Yeah, I am trash-talking someone unconscious, but hey, no goddess is perfect. I pick him up and hoist him over my shoulder, carrying him out like a sack of potatoes. For a mortal, he would have been heavy, but for a goddess, he is nothing. I know exactly where I want to take him. I have a place that I keep just in case I need to be under the radar. I stuff him in the trunk and leave. He should be out for a while. *** I arrive at my safe house and turn off my phone. I don’t want any interruptions during this part. As I open my trunk, Julio tries to jump out at me. Little fucker recovered sooner than I expected.  One well-aimed punch remedies that, and he falls back into the trunk. If he were smart, he would have kicked out a taillight and tried to alert traffic of his situation. If I am ever locked in a trunk, that’s what I will do. It’s hard to ignore a waving hand sticking out of a busted taillight. Thankfully ol’ Julio isn’t that bright. He just waited, thinking he would get the drop on me.  I bend down and pick him up, for the second time in as many hours, and carry him into my personal interrogation room. I slump him into the chair and cuff his hands. Once he is secured, I leave the room and lock it behind me. Even if by some earthly miracle he wakes up and escapes his cuffs, he isn’t getting out of that room. I built it myself. It could double as a bomb shelter. He is stuck until I deem otherwise. I stretch as I walk over to the full kitchen. I make sure that all my places have a full kitchen, bathrooms, a bedroom, and all the clothes and toiletries that I would need if I were stranded for two weeks. Some say I am paranoid; others say I am a preppers wet dream…I just say that I am prepared for anything life can throw at me. I start a pot of coffee and pop a couple of hot pockets into the microwave. Then I shower to remove any sweat and dirt from the night, and put on clean clothes. Once I am finished, I clean my dishes and get ready to greet my guest. Before I enter the room, I watch Julio from the two-way mirror. It’s completely impenetrable. Shy of a rocket launcher, he isn’t getting through it. Julio is awake and struggling with his restraints. He looks scared. Good. I hope by the time this is over he is terrified, as terrified as his victims. I walk into the room with a smile. This is going to be fun. I worry for a moment what that says about me. I’ll have to worry about it later. Right now, I have work to do. *** The interrogation room is silent as Julio sits motionless. He thinks he knows what is coming. He has no idea.  I walk in, as cool and calm as a psychopath disposing of his kill. Julio watches my every move, eyes tracking me. The room is so quiet I can hear him breathing.  What comes next is something that I excel at, and have even come to enjoy. The compassionate goddess that I once was, vanishes, leaving only determination and adrenalin. I carefully unbutton my suit jacket and fold it over the first chair. I don’t need to do it, but it has a nice effect. The room looks like any standard interrogation room with wooden chairs and a metal table. I find that it gives the bad guys a false sense of security. The one big difference is that in my interrogation room, I make the rules. The table is all that stands between him and me. I wondered if it makes him feel safer. It won’t do him any good. I am still wearing my shoulder holster and .45mm handgun. I would be required to remove it in a typical interrogation. They are worried about the perp gaining control of the weapon and using it. I don’t have such reservations. “Good morning, sleeping bastard,” I say with a wicked smile. He isn’t sweating yet, but he will. “What am I doing here, bitch? I want my lawyer!” he says calmly.  I laugh at him. A full-throated laugh, and I let the amusement show on my face. “What are you laughing at? Where is my lawyer? I know my rights. I got a phone call!” His voice shows some anger. Good. I stare at him as I unbutton my long sleeves and roll them up to my elbows. I am wearing wrist sheaths complete with double-edged throwing knives. I admit that I feel naked without my guns and knives. Usually, I have a small arsenal of assorted weapons strapped to me. It’s comforting. The last interrogation that I was in, I had to remove all my weapons. I then had to promise that it was all of them. Honestly, I had to stifle a small laugh as they all looked at the pile of weapons on the table. It’s my little magic trick—nothing to see here, folks. “Hey, you can’t have those in here!” he yells as he sees them.  The gun didn’t faze him, but seeing the knives meant that the rules were out the window. “Who ordered my condo to be blown up, and where is the missing family from Harrisburg?” I ask calmly without even looking at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Chica. Chinga tu Madre!” he yells at me.  “Oh, I am sure you know a whole lot. I am going to get the information from you estas pero si bien pendejo.” The first look of fear crosses his face but quickly changes to anger. “I want my lawyer. You can’t touch me, puta!” He spits at me. “Spit again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out, puto.” “Suck mi cojones! Lawyer! LAWYER!” he starts to yell.  Apparently, he isn’t taking me seriously. My only response is another full-throated laugh. I let the humor of his ignorance show in my eyes before allowing rage to fill them. “Oh, you’re an ignorant little shit. Do you think you are in a mortal interrogation? You are with the Gods now. You get nothing. You will be lucky if I don’t crush every bone in your body while I’m extracting the information I need.” I let the smile curve my lips. His fear and distress become evident as he starts to sweat.  “So, Julio, we can do this one of two ways.” I pause before continuing, “Either you can tell me what I need to know, or I extract it from you. You can try and resist if you are stupid, but I think you are smarter than that. You’re not stupid, are you, Julio?” His hands start to tremble slightly. “You’re afraid, that’s good. It means you know how this can go. Who rigged my house to blow? What happened to the family in Harrisburg? Are they connected? What does all this have to do with me?” He looks at me and musters some courage. It’s a lie, though, he cannot completely mask his fear. “I have no idea what you are talking about. LAWYER!” He draws out every syllable of lawyer, to make a greater impact. I stand up and slam my hands on the table. The sound vibrates through the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls. My hands sink into the metal, and the table makes a groaning sound as it threatens to buckle. “I ain’t telling you nothing. You don’t know what will happen if I talk. He will kill me!” “I will kill you if you don’t talk!” I shout at him.  He jumps and starts yelling, “Someone help me, this bitch is crazy! She is going to kill me! You can’t let her do this! It ain’t legal! HELP! HELP! HELP!” I laugh again and throw the table. I only need to take a couple of steps to close the distance between us. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I slam him against the wall. The chair falls apart from the force, leaving him dangling from my grip.  “No one is going to help you. Now tell me what I want to know.” “Okay, okay, okay, I’ll tell you anything, just please don’t kill me,” he whimpers. I drop him to the floor where he falls into a slump. I walk over to my chair and kick it over to him. “Get up and sit your ass in the chair,” I tell him coldly. I have no sympathy for scum like him.  Slowly he gets up and sits in the chair. His eyes are wide and showing too much white. He never takes them off me as I smooth my clothes. “Ready to talk, or shall I make you bleed first? For instance, did you know that the body’s most sensitive areas are the fingertips? That’s why acupuncturists never put the needles there. If I were to drive wooden spikes through them, you would be in unimaginable pain.” “Please, no, no, I’ll tell you anything.” “Good, now we are getting somewhere. Now, answer my questions.” “Si, I’ll tell you anything. The family was taken. Most of the blood was from the father. Si. He tried to put up a fight. The wife and ninas were taken. They are to be sold.” “What does this have to do with me? Why try and kill me? I mean, it won’t happen, armies have tried and failed.” He swallows audibly. “Because we know what you are, Chica. You are a danger to our operation, and mi familia know the only way to continue is if you are dead.” “What do you mean? What am I? Because I work with the FBI and am a Private Investigator?” Not everyone knows that I am a goddess, although it is not something that I try to hide. Typically, I don’t care who knows. It only helps my reputation and keeps people from interfering with my affairs. If the cartel knew and decided to put a price on my head, let’s say that life would get a lot more interesting if I didn’t do something about it. “No, Chica, we know that you are the Athena. We know that you are the daughter of Zeus. You are a goddess.”  Well then, there goes that. “You said that the woman and children are going to be sold? Sold where?” “I don’t know, I swear. All I know is that a big meeting is going down tomorrow, I can give you the address, but that’s all I know. I swear por favor no me mates.” “I’m not going to kill you. You hijo de puta.” I figured I would put it in words that he could understand.  He broke out in tears, sobbing wildly. I have broken him… good. “Buenas noches, puto,” I tell him as I punch him in the face.  He immediately slumps over and falls out of his chair. He hits the ground hard. Sure, I could have stopped him, caught him, so he didn’t hit the floor, but I don’t. He doesn’t deserve it. I pick him up and exit the room. It doesn’t take long to stuff him back into my trunk and drive him back to his house.  Once he is cuffed and bound, I call in an anonymous tip to my contacts in the FBI. I am sure they would love to arrest him and his surviving buddies. Of course, seizing all the drugs, weapons, and cash, will be the final nails in his coffin. I leave the scene and go home. I have to get ready for my date. Read the full article

[shadesmaclean]

Tradewinds 21 CH 04

At first, Shades told himself that going around the side of the mansion wouldn’t be so bad. He quietly hoped that this Melissa would be unable to find a way in, but between the vibes he was getting from this place, combined with how long she had already been gone thus far, he was already sure that was just wishful thinking on his part. Sure enough, he found a wrought-iron gate set in a second, inner fence hanging open on one rusty hinge, leading into the rear grounds behind that wing. At first he thought it wouldn’t be so bad, after making it past the outer gate, but he was wrong. Even just peering in the front window a couple minutes ago made him feel like a child himself. How an actual child could hold up in the face of this place’s atmosphere left him wondering if it wasn’t an unhealthy side-effect of growing up next-door to an eldritch location like the Woods. The vines along the walls back here were even more rife, as if the growth out front was just a preview. Vineholdt… Found himself pondering why rich people so often felt the need to name their houses. As if they were a separate country or something. This was worse than being in another country. This was like being on another planet. The knowledge that the outside world was so close at hand only made it worse; at least when he wandered off into the Sixth Dimension one dark and stormy night, he had no idea how far away from his own world he really was. The fact that he even thought of this estate as being somehow apart from the surrounding world only served to remind him of what this place was. Though the idea existed in his mind, he had no name for it, no proper words to describe it. In his travels, he had encountered a couple places that were sort of like this, but not exactly; whatever all haunted those Woods outside of town was largely overshadowed by whatever evil resided in here. Along the way, he encountered a fountain built into a niche in the mansion wall, of an ornate floral motif. Its waist-high basin full almost to the brim with blackish, brackish water he could fairly smell even several yards away. A horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he took a couple steps forward before he caught himself, breathing a sigh of relief as he observed that the foul water and the basin ledge were completely undisturbed. Wondering why such a grim thought even came to mind, it finally dawned on him just what it was he so instinctively disliked about it. The water itself. Not merely its toxic appearance, but the realization that it hadn’t rained around Pickford in at least two or three days. Even in the shade, the water shouldn’t be nearly as full after that much evaporation. Though there was still something else about the fountain he didn’t trust, could’ve sworn he heard something plink and splash, but when he looked back, that black water stood perfectly still. Moving on, around the corner, he found a little-used side door. Gaping wide open, yawning into darkness. Shades couldn’t help but groan as he looked upon it. “She didn’t…” Or course, he already knew she went inside. After all, that was exactly what the House wanted. Wasn’t sure just how he knew, but he was more certain of that than he was about much of anything else going on around here. The dusty footprints just inside the threshold, too small to belong to an adult, merely confirmed his suspicions. “These people have suffered more than enough because of you…” Shades glared back at all those unwelcoming windows with more conviction than he actually thought he could muster. “You won’t have her, too.” Still, he hesitated in the doorway, reaching into one of his many pockets and producing a compact flashlight. Switching it on, he tested it, finding the beam strong, if narrow. Moira had warned them of rare, but potentially dangerous, blackouts that happened around town once in a blue moon, and even though he was only out by day, their past misadventures had taught him how many different situations a flashlight made for an adventurer’s best friend. Ordinarily, he took comfort in how the power cells and bulbs designed in this world tended to last a lot longer than batteries, especially, from his own, but now he found shame in wishing they’d failed. And after making such bold declarations. Yet he found he was less ashamed of showing fear in front of those kids than he was at the thought of coming back without so much as a clue about what happened to their friend, so he put one cold foot forward. The house seemed to push back with waves of stuffy air, but it mostly just invoked his own stubborn streak as he strode forward. Pressing on, he swept his light around to reveal a small foyer full of shelves of garden supplies, as well as the long-withered remains of what was once fresh produce, the shriveled husks of herbs and vegetables, surely the source of most of what he was smelling. Through the next door was a large kitchen, equipped with a mix of old-fashioned-looking equipment, and electric appliances of outland make that would look right at home in Moira’s kitchen back at the Pines, or even his own mom’s, if not for the mix of peculiar brand names. Off to his left was another door, to a flight of stairs leading down. He looked down those steps into some sort of cellar. His flashlight illuminated part of an old furnace, with a row of circular ducts branching out from it like tentacles, and a faint updraft fed him a whiff of coal and soot. Shook his head, just couldn’t imagine her going down there for anything. And could all too easily imagine those rickety steps collapsing under him right on cue. Didn’t care to get caught down there with anything that made itself at home in a place like this, his inner Admiral Ackbar being particularly vocal about that view. Reminded himself that abandoned buildings could host their own share of mundane hazards an unwary explorer might fall prey to. Resigned himself to the possibility that he just might have to search every room of this warped place. Deciding that he would only risk coming back here if his search of less obviously dangerous, and far more likely, places proved fruitless. As he turned for the only other door, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t tried calling out to her. After all, he was all but certain whatever haunted these halls was already well aware of his presence anyway. That rescuing her from this place wasn’t really going to be a stealth operation anyhow. Starting with the cellar door, he called out: “Hello! Melissa! I’m here to help you!…” And the house answered him with ominous silence. Not even the building settling, nor any other sound. Just the creepy sense of anticipation, as if the entire house was waiting for something. Concluding that she must not be in this area anymore, he moved on to the next door, which led into a dining room. As he skirted around the long table that occupied most of the room, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the child’s boldness— or at least sufficient preoccupation to not notice those cellar stairs— as he was fairly sure she actually went this way. To the side were a couple smaller doors that looked like closets to him, and another door at the far end of the room. Beyond was a cavernous chamber he could barely discern through the faint gloom of cob-webbed curtains and dusty windows. Sweeping his light around, he took in an ornately furnished great hall of high ceilings, sporting a large crystal chandelier, and hardwood floors appointed with carefully arranged rugs. To his right was a pair of double doors, matching the front entrance outside, with a decorative glass fan window above, designed with a peacock motif, and on the far side was another door, leading into the other wing. To his left was a grand staircase, forming a t-joint about halfway up, branching off into both wings. Wondering if she really would go any deeper into this spooky place, he went over and poked his light into the next room. Sure enough, there was the ball, still lying on the floor, untouched, leaving him with the dread certainty that she must have gone upstairs for some unfathomable reason. Taking a deep breath, he plunged even deeper into the mansion, starting up the stairs. Even through the stiff carpet runner, he could hear some steps creak, but still held firm, so he continued up. At the first landing, there was a door hanging partway open, so he checked it out. Inside was what looked to him like some sort of playroom. Scattered toys, stuffed animals, and an old-fashioned rocking horse. As well as scattered dead bugs, peeling wallpaper, and an antique-looking device that reminded Shades of an old phonograph, just sitting on the floor in the corner, looking every bit as forlorn as the rest of the room. Shutting the door on this vista, which set a most unsettling tone, he turned back and looked out across the great hall. “Taking a child…” he said aloud, no longer able to contain his own disgust at this place. “You really do have no shame, do you?” Much like before, he expected no response, so it made him jump in unabashed startlement when a grandfather clock started tolling out of nowhere, reverberating off all the walls. He nearly tripped on the stairs as he wheeled about the landing, seeking for a threat that failed to materialize. His free hand having already drawn one stun-stick, even as his mind pivoted just as much as his feet, uncertain if his weapon would avail him against anything in here. The door behind him remained closed, and nothing seemed to be approaching from any stairway, even as the deep chiming of an unknown hour died away. It was only in the midst of regaining his wits that he noticed the spectral spectacle unfolding in the great hall below, that he was missing the show. Around the center of the hall, six shimmering women garbed in hooded ceremonial robes surrounded a seventh. Each of them clasped their hands together in various ritual gestures, the others’ heads bowed as the one in the center spoke. Shades was eerily certain she had been chanting all along, but the fading echo of the clock chime left him feeling as if he just tuned in to a new radio station between gulfs of static. “…stand upon the unshakeable Foundations of the Earth under our feet, that we might stand unmoved in our conviction.” “In Her name, so let it be,” the others answered. “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Fire of Purity to burn away your corruption.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Free Air, that your ashes may be blown away upon the Winds of Time.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, we call upon the Waters of Life to wash away your filth that defiles this place of the living.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, Mother of All Things, we cast you out of the place.” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, who gave birth to all life, we call upon all human spirits found herein, and grant license to quit this place… that you might return to the Source, the womb from whence all souls enter this world…” “In Her name, so let it be.” “In the name of the Goddess, who guards her children with righteous fury, we cast out all… foul things… without soul… to return to the Void from whence…” Though she started out strong, her voice was becoming increasingly strained with each line of the ritual, her words were coming out increasingly desperate. Her last incantation cut off by a strangled gasp as she was lifted bodily off the floor by an unseen force. Head thrown back, hands fumbling frantically at thin air in front of her neck. At this horrifying sight, the others looked up from their concentration as their sister struggled. And their prayers were answered with silence. “In the name… of the Goddess…” she choked out, feet thrashing over a foot off the ground, head snapping from side to side in a vain effort to break that terrible grip. “The… Void… take thee!…” As if on cue, her neck gave a loud, chicken-bone crack, her whole body spasming, then going limp as the others cried out in abject horror and anguish. “LETA!” Her body flung at one of the sisters as the others scattered. Their screams faded even as their ghostly forms dissolved, leaving Shades standing alone on the stair landing, overlooking an empty hall. Then, for good measure, that massive chandelier came crashing down, right on top of the faint outlines of an old six-point ritual circle, spraying crystal all over the floor. Heart lodged solidly in his throat, gasping reflexively at the sensation. Certain that grim replay truly had happened. Quite certain that display was meant to scare him. Okay, it worked… Shades admitted to himself, feeling his blood run cold. Felt an unseasonable chill in the great hall as he found his feet taking him down the steps. Energy blade fired up to slice the locks right off the front door when he got there. It was only with great effort that he pulled the reins on them in mid step, his feet halting in indecision as he reminded himself what was at stake here. Quite sure that he was out of his depth, out of his league against whatever was at work here, yet that Missing Child picture of Kelly Edwards stared at his mind’s eye, pleading. Begging the question of whether Melissa would also become another chapter of this place’s horrific history. Even as he tried to tell himself the kids outside wouldn’t think any less of him for being defeated by something that had beaten everything else that ever challenged it, the thought of facing Melissa’s parents without doing everything he could for her, that thought brought his retreat to a grinding halt. Little Kelly had met her end years before any of them knew the Woods even existed, let alone ever set foot there, while this was happening right here and now. Half expecting invisible hands to seize his own throat, or perhaps push him down the stairs, he strode back up, deciding to search the upper level of the wing he started with first. As he reached the center landing, he tripped on a slight curl in the rug, catching himself against the playroom doorframe. At first gasping and sweeping his energy blade around in an attempt to engage a nonexistent foe. Then breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at himself as he realized what just happened, and he wondered if the sound of laughter was as foreign to this place back then as it was now as he continued on his way.

[lubdubsworld]

The Perfect Husband ( Jung Kook/Oc)

Chapter 2

"It looks like I'm going to have to cut it just a little shorter, to make it even. " The lady at the small salon near the college dorms gave me an apologetic smile and I swallowed in misery. Shorter? It barely brushed my shoulder blades as it was. But she didn't hack it off and was very careful not to reduce the length more than necessary. In the end she also talked me into getting some lowlights.

"You look very pretty ." She said very cheerfully. I stared at my face. I didn't look pretty . I looked like every other woman Jung Kook took to his bed. Slutty. Whorish. Begging for attention.

I wanted to sob . I wanted to kill him.

I wanted to die, really.

Instead, I finished paying and made my way to the bus stand only to be greeted by the sight of Jeon Jung Kook leaning against the wall outside the salon, kissing his girlfriend. Or , to be more accurate, dry humping her. The moment he saw me, he pulled off and smiled, lips still slick with spit and swollen red. His teeth sunk into his lush lower lip and he stuck his tongue out lewdly, looking me up and down.

"There she is. My better half." he drawled and I ignored him, walking right by. Of course he wouldn't let me go that easy. Fingers curled around my arm and yanked me so hard, i was pretty sure my shoulder came unhinged. But I wasn't giving in that easy. I yanked right back and he loosened his hold, enough for me to hit him with my backpack, right in the side of his head.

He swore and stumbled a bit.

"You little bitch..."

I didn't wait for him to come after me, quickly jumping on the bus that pulled over, not even bothering to see where it was headed. Sitting on the hard seats, I finally let the tears fall. It seemed my life was truly over, I thought blankly, staring out the window. I couldn't imagine what he would do once he actually started having twenty four hours unrestricted access to me.

Why did he hate me though?

it made no sense.

I didn't want to trouble him. If he allowed me to, I'd never even appear in front of his face again.

There was something very mysteriously wrong with Jeon Jung Kook and no matter how much I hated him, I would have to find out what it was,  if for no other reason than to keep myself safe.

I remembered his girlfriend, Kim ji Ah, wasn’t that her name? How did she feel about this whole thing? She seemed perfectly content to suck his face despite the fact that he was engaged. That spoke volumes really. 

~~~~~~~

"We'll announce the betrothal next week.  And then you can move in with us for the twelve weeks before your marriage." My mother in law smiled and I felt my oxygen get cut off.

"What? I.. i don't want to move in.." My mother kicked me under the table and i stopped.

"she means that she'll start packing at once. We'll send her over in a couple of days. I understand that it's important for the kids to learn to be comfortable with each other."

"I'm plenty comfortable with him strangling me and dragging me around by my hair all the time. It makes me giddy with comfort. " I said under my breath.

"What's that?! Speak up, Ah reum !! "

I managed a weak smile.

"nothing Mrs. Jeon. I'm looking forward to be a part of your family." I said bleakly.

"Good, there are certain things you must learn before marriage. Proper etiquette. How to address all your elders. How to behave at official parties. Dining etiquette. You will be accompanying my son on major deals and dinners. You cannot embarrass us in any way. Meanwhile I have a schedule for all the things that need to be done before the wedding. You'll have to take Jung kook along for it all and I would appreciate if you keep him happy all the time. He's not yet warmed up to you and I expect you to change that. " She said loftily.

I considered the words, sinking deeper into depression. The only way to warm up Jeon jung Kook would be to toss him in a furnace. I volunteer, honestly. 

I then spent an inordinate time on fansites dedicated to Jeon Jung Kook, trying to gather some information about the guy. There were disturbingly large number of these filled mostly with selcas and photos that were vaguely stalkerish in nature. I also noticed that any female who managed to get too close to him was summarily threatened, and cowed into staying away by some very royal ' fans' who were all on a mission to protect ' oppa'. I swallowed with renewed terror. I did not want to be the next on their list.

When i told Soyou she laughed outright .

“They’re just girls on the internet, Ah Reum. You’re going to be his wife. i think you have the upper hand here. “ 

And that was that.

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

Less than a week later , I ended up at the Jeon mansion, all my things packed and sent and I waited in the foyer of the obscenely huge house, every breath erratic.

Jung Kook appreared like a frog disguised as a prince, hair styled, wearing a white silk shirt and perfectly tailored slacks. Even the knowledge that his personality was worse than pond slime did not stop me from grudgingly realizing that he was incredibly attractive. 

"You actually came here. Wow, I was sure you'd run away from the country."

I gritted my teeth , absently reaching out to touch my hair and his eyes followed the movement , a pleased smile curving his features as he stepped up to me.

"You look better now. Kim Ah Reum." He drawled my name out. " They named you 'beautiful' ? Seems rather ironic, doesn't it?" He said with a confused tilt of his head.

I stared right at him.

"Is this your kink? Torturing innocent people? " I said finally.

His smile faltered.

"You're not innocent. You're just like the rest of them, trying to take advantage of my position in society. Well, guess what ? I'm no one's plaything. I'll be damned if i let you do that to me. " He said scornfully.

I felt my heart skip a couple of beats at that. It seemed a bit excessive, considering I really hadn't done anything of the sort.

"So, what do you want from me?" I said finally when he didn't say anything else.

He made a show of giving it some serious thought.

"I want you to stop pretending like you don't want to marry me. I want you to admit that you, like everyone else want me for my money, my status, the power of being Jeon Jung Kook's wife. "

"Fine. I want to be your wife because your rich, smart and powerful. It's hardly something to be ashamed of." I said with a shrug." In return, why don't you admit that you're just a fucking bully, who takes advantage of my lack of strength, just because you're too much of a coward to treat me like an equal!!"

I hadn't meant to spit it all out at him like that.

But my nerves were frayed beyond bearing and I'd spent a good forty eight hours, just wondering how far he was going to go, trying to hurt me.

If i was going to marry him, I deserved to know what made him want to hurt me, when he didn't do it with anyone else.

"Look at you, acting all tough. Missing the feel of my hand across your cheek?" He said softly, eyes narrowed in warning and I stood firm, refusing to be cowed.

"You're the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. Whether you like it or not, I'm the woman you're stuck with. Tell me what's wrong...Tell me what went wrong to turn you this way and i swear to God, I'll help you out. Anyway you want. if you want me a friend, I'll be that for you. if you want me to stay away from me , I'll do that. I swear, i don't want to hurt you or take advantage of you. I don't know what kind of people you've been with but that is not who I am, okay? Jung kook we can be friends..... " My tone came out very gentle and he actually swallowed.

"Get the fuck out of my face." He said very quietly.

"Jung Kook..."

"I SAID GET OUT!!!!"

Sighing I picked up my backpack and moved to the side hallway where one of the house maids stood waiting to lead me to my room. No one could say I hadn't tried.

When I glanced back to see him , he was already gone.

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

I didn't see him again for the rest of the evening. When I moved to change out of my clothes, opening the elaborately carved, white closets, I got my first shock.

All my pyjalmas were gone. Instead , all i could find were lacy negligees and satin shorts that would likely cover the bare minimum. All my jeans and shirts had been replaced by silk blouses and flowy skirts in floral prints. Wool dresses , silky summer dresses and gowns in all possible colors were arranged in neat stacks. The more expensive ones hung in rows from an iron rod. 

I stared at the hideous clothes and tried not to scream. I'd known this would happen , hadn't I? Being a Jeon daughter in law would mean this. To completely peel of every single layer of my personality, everything that made me , me and replace it with society's idea of the perfect trophy wife, starting with the hair and now the clothes. Tomorrow i would likely be forced to wear five inch heels and walk like a lady.

Fighting nausea , I sat on the bed, stunned.

I was hungry. i hadn't had lunch and now it was a little past eight. The maid had told me that since it was my first day, I could have dinner in bed. I rang the small bell in the corner of the wall and about ten minutes later the girl arrived with a tray that contained nothing but a small bowl of soup. I stared at it in disbelief.

"What on earth... I wanted dinner." I said softly.

"This is dinner, mistress. Lady Jeon said that you were trying to lose weight for the wedding so you'd be on a special soup-only diet." She smiled cheerfully.

I laughed in disbelief and watched the girl as she placed the bowl down and left. But i was hungry and I quickly gulped it down. It felt like I'd just drunk a glass of salted water. I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself. No one in their right mind would call me fat. I wasn't fashionably thin sure, but I'd never felt fat. Until now.

Hurt, lonely and insulted I curled myself into a ball on the bed, trying to ignore the pangs of hunger wracking my body. I thought of the week ahead. No doubt when the betrothal was announced, every female within a twelve km radius would be out for my blood.

Someone knocked on the door, probably the maid to get the dinner tray and I moved to open it.

"Hi there...." Jeon Jung Kook drawled , lightly pushing my shoulder till i stumbled back. I barely got my bearings before he was locking the door and stepping in  and I shrieked, scrabbling backwards to get away from him.

"Get out..." I shouted but he calmly shrugged out  ofthe suit jacket he was wearing, tossing it on the nearest chair before turning to me  and flexing his shoulders.

"Is that any way to talk to your friend? Whatever happened to the girl who wanted to start a nice , cozy marriage with me , just a few hours back?? "

I hesitated, trying to gage his words. He had a challenging glint in his eye that made me pause before answering.

"I wasn't lying. i meant what I said. I want this marriage to work. If you tell me what you want...." I said calmly and he laughed.

"I want to fuck you into that mattress right now. Is that part of the package you're offering, Ah Reum ssi.. ?? " He started unbuttoning his shirt and I felt annoyance well up inside me. I was seeing a pattern here. Anytime i tried to talk to him about us, he resorted to abusive language and violence.

"Jung Kook...This isn't funny..." I began .

"You told me you wanted to make this marriage work.. If you really want our marriage to work, you have to prove it to me. Sleep with me, I'll believe that you're serious about wanting to be my friend. "

He shrugged out of the shirt and I fell back on my butt because... Wow.

Okay, he was gorgeous.

I felt my mouth go dry and my heart started beating double-time, trying not to stare at all that satin smooth skin, the washboard abs and the damn near perfect physique. My face flooded with blood and I knew I was probably the exact same shade of a tomato.

"Like what you see?" He sounded amused.

I could feel an insane urge to smile rising up inside me and Good god, was I that shallow? Did the sight of his naked chest really turn me into a simpering idiot??

The answer was a humiliating yes.

I clamped a hand on my mouth to stop him from seeing the grin that had materialized there. But the look on his face told me he already knew and he snickered.

"Alright. Now return the favor." He said casually.

i stared at him stupidly.

“what?”

“Return the favor. An eye for an eye. A shirt for a shirt.” 

It took me  a second to realize that he wanted me to take off my shirt.

"What?! No!" I screamed, stunned. He rolled his eyes and stepped right up to me grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it up, so hard that three buttons popped and the fabric tore, leaving me semi naked .

I kicked out furiously and he laughed catching both my ankles and pinning me down before climbing on top of me. He sat down on my thighs and I choked out in disbelief before going cross eyed because...abs... in my face...

I reached out to push him away but the moment my palms touched his chest I pulled back, embarrassed and flustered. His skin felt scorching hot underneath my fingers. Maybe it was the effect of all the selcas I'd been seeing in the fancafe, but he looked way too handsome  up close  , his sharp jawline and silky hair hitting me like a punch to the gut.

Jeon Jung Kook was a class A bastard .

But he was also a breathtakingly beautiful bastard.

"Take your hands off." He said sternly and I yelped when he grabbed both my wrists in one hand and yanked my arms up over my head, pinning them against the headboard. He used his free hand to lightly thread through my hair. But his hands stayed there, not venturing even an inch lower.

"Like this... with your hair mussed and your shirt off, you do a bit of justice to your name." He said thoughtfully. I thrashed my hips trying to dislodge him but he only pressed down harder, his hip bones digging into my waist, as he pushed down into me.

"I'm not your plaything either, you hypocrite. You can't accuse me of taking advantage of you when you're doing the exact same thing right now.” I snarled. 

He glared and then moved off me , long legs struggling to disentangle from mine.

"I can't even fuck you because your smart mouth is literally the world's biggest turn off. " He snapped letting go of my wrists and plopping back on the bed. I just lay there, stunned.

"Get out of my room, you freak." I muttered and he rolled his eyes.

"This happens to be my room as well. My parents want us to cohabit." He rolled his eyes and shimmied out of his skin tight jeans while I hastily looked away.

"why are you so shameless? at least have the decency to change elsewhere." I shrieked. He laughed at that.

"I'm not ashamed of my body, sweetheart. unlike you, I don't have a stick for a body frame" He shrugged.

I stared at him, momentarily thrown. It was actually the second time he'd called me thin. I really wasn't , and there was no sarcasm in his voice either. It struck me that he actually really considered me thin.

"Stop gawking like an idiot and turn off the lights. I want to sleep." He burrowed under the comforter and I stared in disbelief.

Surreal.

There really was no other word to describe Jeon Jung Kook.

He was surreal.

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

"You look bad. Are you okay?" Soyou looked worried as I stumbled a bit trying to focus on the stairs I was climbing. I was wearing a ridiculously feminine dress, with floral prints and lace edges and a pair of pumps that cut off my blood circulation.

It had been about a week since I'd moved in with Jung Kook and today would be the official announcement of the betrothal. I had been half tempted to stay home and hide under my bed but apparently , I would have to go up on stage with Jung Kook and explain that this wasn't just a business deal. That we were in fact in ' love' with each other. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon had been getting a lot of flak for forcing their young son into a marriage he didn't like and they were very determined to keep their reputation intact. Hence this little publicity stunt.

I could only hope that I didn't vomit on the podium, trying to pretend to be in love with Jeon Jung Kook.

"i'm tired..." i said honestly.

And starving.

My mother in law had taken her role very seriously. I wasn't given anything except broth and soup and the occasional chicken breast, unseasoned. I had no energy left in my body. But I'd lost a good five pounds, so she counted it a success.

"You should lay low for a week after the announcement." She said worriedly and I nodded.

While most of the students were already gathered in the assembly hall, Jung Kook was nowhere to be found.

"Ah Reum.. Come on up here. Your in laws are here..." One of my professors looked flustered as she ushered me over to the side room. i bowed politely to Mr and Mrs Jeon finally spotting Jung Kook next to his father, looking surly and handsome in a perfect black tux.

"We decided to do this here because it would be good for all the kids to understand that your relationship is serious. " Mrs. Jeon said firmly and I nodded, feeling out of place . I hadn't been raised like Jung kook. My parents were strict but very friendly nonetheless. Jung Kook's mother looked like she'd never hugged her son in his entire life.

Jung Kook gave me a surly stare , looking me up and down with distaste. I didn't blame him. On the good looks scale he was a perfect ten while I hung somewhere between a five and a six on my best days. It struck me that this was probably the reason people thought he was being forced into the marriage. Because no way would a guy like Jeon Jung Kook willingly want to marry a girl like me.

Tears stung without warning and i blinked, surprised. It wasn't like me to cry over stuff like this.

When the announcement came there was a collective moan of disappointment and rushed voices. Mr. Jeon spoke about how marriage would be the first step to Jung Kook becoming an adult and how he would go on to take over Jeon inc., and make it bigger than ever . When Jung Kook took the mike he looked blank and completely emotionless.

In a few crisp words, he reiterated that he loved his fiancee, Kim ah Reum very much. She was an attractive, intelligent young woman who would no doubt support him in all his endeavors and stand by him while he works hard to do his best for Jeon inc., If everyone would support him it would be great.

Polite applause greeted his words. And then we posed for some pictures and answered a few generic questions about how we'd met. I'd had strict orders not to say a word and Jung Kook said some cliched stuff about meeting me at the library, asking me out to coffee and enjoying my ' very charming smile and casual way of talking ' .

I couldn't keep still and said that I loved that he 'treated me like a gentleman and always took very gentle care of me'.

It was beyond ridiculous.

After it was all over and done , I moved to go to the restroom just to get my head together. I would have walked right past the door if my name hadn't come floating through. Curious, I pressed my ears to the classroom door.

"Never heard of her,."

"Must be something special if Jeon Jung Kook actually agreed to marry her. "

"I've seen her a bunch of times. Not much of a face but the body is definitely A plus. Nice and curvy. Luscious breasts man. " Some gruff voice said and I grimaced.

 Perverts.

I decided to move away when the next sentence caught my attention.

"How about we pay her a visit tonight? "

I stopped short.

What the hell??

"She's staying with Jeon right now. And you know how he is. Like a fucking territorial dog. He’s going to keep a firm leash on his bitch so, I’m not sure we can get to her..."

"No, but she leaves the college at six right? I've seen her take the bus. I think we can get her if we hang about there for a while. "

I stumbled back, too shocked to be scared. What on earth was wrong with these people?? Was nothing sacred anymore. Throat dry, I slowly backed away. 

 I had to find another way to get home, I thought .

It wasn't as easy as I thought. My parents told me they had a bunch of interviews to give themselves and all the cars were already occupied. Catch a cab they told me , but cabs weren't allowed inside the campus. I would still have to walk out, past the bus stop.

In the end I ended up in front of Jeon Jung Kook.

"Give me a ride home." I said softly and he raised an eyebrow,

"No. " He said at once.

God.

"Please...  just for today..." I begged.

He rolled his eyes.

"I said no. Go annoy someone else. "

“Jung Kook , please...”

“Look , begging doesn’t appeal to me outside the bedroom, so get out before I do something we both regret.” He growled. 

What else could I say?

In the end I begged Soyou to come with me, through the back gate and she agreed to meet me there at five.

I'd just finished clearing out my locker when a palm came around my mouth, cutting off my breath and making me scream.

"Hey baby..." I recognized the voice from the classroom and panicked. Oh shit...

" Let's not waste time guys..." I recognized two of them. Bang Yong Guk and Kim Him Chan who were both rich , spoiled brats . I jumped when he really lost no time, reaching out and unbuttoning the back of my dress in quick deft movements that suddenly made the entire situation frighteneingly real and scary. He gripped my hair, hard enough for it to burn and I felt my eyes water from the pain of it.

I thrashed about so wildly that I lost my breath but I was still exhausted from not having eaten anything in a while. they held me down so easily , I felt like a doll.

"Did you fuck, Jung kook? Was he any good? He must be... seeing as every female wants to get in his pants... but then...if he actually agreed to marry you, you must be really good at what you do, babe.. Why not show me..."

He pushed me down to my knees and quickly indid his pants. I screamed soundlessly into the palm over my mouth . He wouldn't...!!!

Would he??

I wanted to vomit...

Sudeenly the palm over my mouth went away, reaching down to grip my jaw brusingly, keeping my mouth open and making it impossible for me to clamp my jaw shut. Yong Guk pulled his erection out of his briefs and pushed it into my mouth, just as the door behind us slammed open.

I gagged on the thick length inside my mouth and a second later he was being pulled off of me while I vomitted all over the floor. it was mostly bile, I hadn't had solid food in such a long time. I crawled away piteously, while my rescuers beat the pulp out the three of them. I reached the corner of the class room and finally focussed on the scene in front.

Jeon Jung Kook had a knife to Yong Guk's neck.

"I'm going to slit your throat..." He snarled and My heart jumped to my throat .

"Jung Kook...No!!" I screamed, terrified.

He ignored me.

"Get on your knees. On your knees. and Apologize to her.. Right now before I fuck you up!!" He shouted.

Yong Guk wasn't going to argue with a guy who had a knife to his pulse point. He kneeled in front of me but smirked venomously.

"Sorry we got interrupted..." He said , earning himself a nice kick to his back. I flinched, my heart pounding so hard I was sure i was going to faint.

"You're pushing it Yongguk. Do you want to die..." Jung kook growled and Yong Guk smirked again.

"sorry, princess. " Hesaid and Jung Kook dragged him up and tossed him out of the class, while Min Yoongi pushed the other two out.

"Are you okay?" Jung Kook looked honestly worried as he dropped to his knees in front of me. I swallowed nervously, still in shock.

"I'm okay.... he didn't.. do anything..." I said vaguely and Jung Kook sighed in defeat.

"I shouldn't have let you go alone. Fuck, I didn't think he'd actually have the nerve to come after you. I'm going to kill him for sure..."

"Jung Kook you should probably get her home. She looks like she's going to pass out." Yoongi muttered and I flinched.

My body had apparently shut down and now my legs wouldn't function. I tried again to pull myself up but apparently my bones had given up on me.

"It's OK. I got you, come on."

And then, without any warning, he slipped a hand underneath my knees and lifted me up till I was cradled against his chest.

I was too tired to process this and just gave up trying to make sense of his hot and cold behaviour.

To my surprise he didn't let go of me even in the car. Once we reached the house I felt firm enough to walk by myself and stared at him as he handed over my books.

" Thanks for coming back for me." I said sincerely.

”Don't go around alone hereafter.” he snapped.

For some reason , I remembered thinking that he'd looked like he'd never been hugged.

So that's what I did.

I hugged him.

He went stiff as a board and said, " What the fuck ?"

But he didn't push me away.

When I finally pulled back his face was unreadable.

" Thanks." I said again.

He didn't come to my room again for the rest of the week.