#which meant getting on my hands and knees to fetch anything in back haha

[gendzl]

I moved my reference books to the top of my bookshelf and it's funny how I'm suddenly actually referencing them. now that they're more accessible. Who Could Ever Have Predicted This.

[iguessigotta]

this is pure self-indulgence because I just got back from spending all day between urgent care and the ER haha woooo literally 8am - 7pm yeah we're having fun in hereeeee (don't worry they think they figured it out and tbh it's more stupid than life threatening and I wanna punch my own self for almost keeling over because of this lmao) smh my head @ my own body

Sighing heavily, you flopped down on the couch, not even bothering to take off your shoes. Dark was right on your heels, pausing to shut the door and set your bag down in the entryway. You closed your eyes, slouched down low and sunk into the cushions, letting out an unhappy sound when you realized being too lazy to remove your shoes meant you couldn't toss your feet up on the cushion next to you.

Today sucked.

There was a quiet brush of fabric, along with the telltale ringing that accompanied your boyfriend, as he walked into the living room and stopped by the couch. Without a word, he knelt down and started removing your shoes and socks.

"Dark? What are you doing?" you grumbled, cracking one eye open to look at him, noting the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth.

He hummed and placed your things off to the side before planting a kiss on your knee. "No shoes in the house," he paused to look you in the eye, "wasn't that your rule?"

"Oh, haha," you said through a huff, rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd fall out. Dark let out a huff of his own - one that sounded suspiciously like a laugh - before he lifted your legs and set them on the couch. While you sat there confused - comfortable, but confused, he walked to your small kitchen and out of your line of sight. You frowned and went to sit up a bit so you could be nosy and see what he was doing, but he stopped you with a sharp "Ah. Stay where you are."

You frowned even harder. How the hell did he know you were trying to get up when he couldn't see you? When Dark came back into the room, a small tray of food and drink in his hand, you were still half-sitting, frown stuck on your face. He raised an eyebrow at you but didn't say anything as he set the tray down on the small table next to the couch.

"How do you do that?" you asked, folding your legs up to give Dark space to sit down with you, "It's like you can see me even when you can't."

This time you were sure he actually did laugh. "There are many things you don't know about me," he said, a smile audible in his voice, as he pulled your legs into his lap, "Is it really so far-fetched to think I might be able to keep an eye on you at all times?"

The look he gave you made heat flood your face at the implication.

Letting out another faint chuckle, Dark turned towards the tv, which had at some point been turned on and tuned to one of your favorite movies. He kept his hands on your legs, running them up and down, pausing every now and then to give a light squeeze. You could feel his eyes on you, watching for any signs of distress of discomfort, though every time you looked a him, his gaze would be so focused on the movie that you started to doubt that feeling of being watched.

It would have been annoying if you didn't understand why he was acting so worried over you.

You'd spent all day in the ER after finally caving and seeking help for a health issue that had been making your life hell the past few months. It was a drawn-out, expensive process, but by the end of it they'd found what they had reason to believe was the root cause. They'd given you packet after packet of info, a prescription, and a pat on the back, sending you on your way. Straight into the arms of your boyfriend, who was doing his best to appear calm for you. The louder-than-normal ringing had given him away though.

And so here you found yourself, reclining sideways on the couch, a mountain of pillows between your back and the armrest, legs in Dark's lap, half-watching one of your favorite movies. A sigh - content this time - escaped you, earning another light squeeze to your leg, and a small smile on Dark's lips.

It had been rough going the past few months, your health had been causing both of you quite a bit of stress, but you were finally on the mend, that was all that mattered.

[banshee1013]

Suptober Day 22 - But I Know That I Love You So

Well, this is it - the last one I managed to finish both art and fic for during the month of October, and it’s at a pretty good stopping point. There are 2 others where the fic is done but not the art, and two additional ones in the planning stages, all which will be released when they’re done. The Masterpost will be published tomorrow, and then updated with AO3 tags as they’re posted there.

Please forgive this last one - I’m still learning to draw people and not that great at it. That’s why there were so many inanimate objects, still life, and hands HAHA. Something to get better at for next year! 

So, I hope you enjoy this last installment! Thanks again to @winchester-reload for hosting this challenge again, and I look forward to having the time now to check out everyone else’s amazing work! You’re ALL ROCK STARS.

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - BUT I KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU SO

Words: 1797

“Baby, we need to talk,” 

Dean’s eyes bore into his, earnest, wide with concern and not a small amount of fear.

A small thread of worry wormed its way around his heart from that statement, the look in his eyes. But the increasing amount of shivering he feels through their clasped hands is far more of a problem at the moment. 

“Yes, of course… but Dean, you’re shivering.” He gently disengages a hand from Dean’s, using the other to pull him towards the bathroom and the shower there. 

“Cas, I… “ Dean starts but cuts himself off as Cas pulls the shower door back to turn on the water. “W-what’s g-g-going on?” 

Cas pivots back to Dean, quickly stripping him of his wet clothes, Dean’s shivering increasing. The clothes are tossed in the corner, and he turns again to check the temperature of the water, which is starting to steam up the mirror over the sink. Turning it down a little so as to not scald him, he urges Dean into the shower. 

“You need to warm up or you’ll catch a cold,” Castiel says, gently pushing him under the spray, and begins to close the shower door when Dean’s hand grasps his wrist.

“Cas, g-get in h-here with me, you’re w-w-wet too.” 

Dean does have a point, Castiel notices, looking down at his own dripping clothes beginning to form a pool of water beneath him, his own shivers amplifying. He eyes the tiny tub, the showerhead just barely reaching the back of Dean’s neck and a mere few feet of room left. “The shower is too small for both of us.” He does begin to remove his sodden clothing, however, tossing it in the corner of the bathroom to join Dean’s. He’ll have to hang them up after their showers in hopes they’ll be dry enough to pack in the morning. “The steam from the shower will warm me.” He closes the bathroom door to trap even more of the warmth.

But Dean is nothing if not persistent. “Cas, c’mon, we’ll make it work.” The shower is having its desired effect, at least, as his voice is no longer shaking. The insistent tone gives way to one more pleading. “Please, Cas? I need to talk to you.” 

Castiel cannot deny him anything, especially when said in that tone of voice. He acquiesces, climbing into the shower, and is immediately pulled under the spray and into Dean’s arms.  

“There, much better, am I right?” 

It’s very hard to deny, the warmth of the water and Dean’s proximity chasing away his own shivering. He ducks to allow the water to run over his head, warming him fully before spinning Dean carefully around, urging his head under the water as well.

Dean sputters, pulling his head out from under the water. “Okay, okay, I’m good now.” He brushes the excess water from his face, then places a palm on Castiel’s shoulder, the other cupping his jaw, lifting his face to meet Dean’s eyes. The hint of concern is back, and the thread of worry around his heart pulls taut.

“Cas, we need to…” he pauses, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I need to talk to you about what I asked you the other day.” 

The thread of worry snaps and Castiel’s heart plummets into the pit forming in his stomach.

This is where his worst fears come true - where Dean confirms it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to say those words, to ask that question. He pulls his gaze away from Dean’s, staring at the wall over his shoulder. 

At least any dampness that may appear on his cheeks can be explained away by the condensation from the shower. 

“I.. I understand, Dean. It’s quite alright,” he hears himself say, as from a great distance.

“No... no Cas, you don’t.” Dean’s voice all but vibrates with apprehension - of course; Dean does care for him, and he’s a kind person, not one to willingly inflict harm - “I meant every word.” 

Castiel blinks rapidly, not trusting his hearing. “Excuse me?” His eyes fall back on Dean’s, searching.

Dean’s eyes are open and honest, but he sighs morosely. “I meant every word… but God, how I wish it hadn’t come out like that.” He gives him a wan smile, his eyes falling away. “That was such a lame way to ask you.” 

Castiel’s head tilts in confusion. “I’m.. not sure what you mean?” 

Dean’s head is still lowered, but Castiel can still see the flush spreading across his cheeks, the embarrassment in his voice. “It should have been so much better… on my knees, presenting a ring… something other than just... “ He pauses with a sigh, his shoulders shrugging. 

Castiel’s heart sprouts wings and soars, out of the pit of his stomach directly into his throat, where he has to choke out the words around it, fingers tilting Dean’s chin up to look into those beautiful green eyes he loves so much. “Dean, no.  it was honest and perfect.” 

Those green eyes, dark with dread, begin to lighten. “But… you haven’t said anything since then…” 

It was Castiel’s turn to look down, ashamed. “I was afraid to mention it… for fear it was an accident.” He swallows, hard. “I wanted to keep on believing it was true for as long as possible.” 

Dean’s bright laughter startles him, and he jerks his head up in alarm. Dean’s eyes are dancing, lips spread in a grin full of delight. “Boy, we are just a couple of dumbasses, aren’t we?” Before Castiel can agree, Dean is on him, pressing him into the wall of the shower with a crushing, urgent kiss.

A sound bubbles up in Castiel’s chest and escapes around Dean’s lips on his own - a small sob of relief and gratitude. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, attempting to gain further purchase there, to bring him even closer. 

Dean breaks the kiss and his head falls to Castiel’s shoulder, where soon he feels dampness there, warmer than the cooling shower water pouring on them. He gently pulls Dean’s head up to look into his face. 

Dean’s eyes glow in the fluorescent light, bright with unshed tears. His hands capture the sides of Castiel’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over his cheeks.

“God, I love you so much, Cas,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. Then he shivers as the rest of the hot water runs out, the temperature dropping rapidly. “C’mon, we’re gonna freeze again.” His hand drops from Castiel’s face to his hand, spinning around to turn off the shower water and open the shower door to retrieve towels from the rack above the toilet, handing one to Castiel.

It becomes quickly apparent that the shower is far too small for both of them to be able to dry off there, so with an exaggerated shiver, Dean hops out of the shower and begins to rapidly dry off, Castiel following suit within the shower tub. When they’re both dry, Dean offers his hand to Castiel, drawing him out of the shower and into the room proper. He makes his way to the duffle bag by the door and fetches out two pairs of sweats, stepping into one pair before helping Castiel into the other. He then snatches the Impala keys from the nightstand and turns for the door. 

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.” He opens the door and darts out into the rain. 

Castiel sighs and heads to fetch another towel from the bathroom.

The door bursts back open, an only slightly damp Dean re-entering with something clutched in his clenched fist. He closes the door behind him and approaches Castiel with firm footsteps. 

His hand opens and Castiel sees a ring there, hanging on a chain. “Is that… is that the ring you used to wear?” Castiel squints at the ring, beat up and scratched from all the beer bottle caps scraped against it.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I stopped wearing it a long time ago… it was the apocalypse and all, and I didn’t want to lose it, so I wore it around my neck for a bit, but it kept popping up and smacking me in the teeth whenever I bent over, so I put it in the glove box.” Dean’s eyes take on a far-away look, a sad smile on his face. “It was originally Mom’s - Dad gave it to her as a sorta promise ring when they first started dating, and of course she stopped wearing it when he got her a proper engagement ring.” He pries open the clasp of the necklace laced through it, his hands shaking, and pulls the ring free from it. 

Castiel’s breath catches as Dean falls to his knees in front of him for the second time this day, the ring presented to him, pinched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger.

“Cas,” the words coming so softly Castiel has trouble hearing them over the pounding of the rain on the roof of the motel. “Castiel,” Dean repeats, his voice strengthening with conviction, his eyes cast upwards, hope and love shining in them. 

“Will you make me the happiest guy alive and marry me?”

Castiel’s shaking knees give out and he falls to his knees in front of Dean, leaning forward to kiss him, wild and breathless. 

“Yes,” he says, kissing his forehead.

“Yes,” he says again, kissing his eyelid, and “yes” again when kissing the other.

Dean is laughing now, the sound filling the room with joy as Castiel continues to kiss him many more times, punctuating each with a heartfelt “Yes.” 

Dean finally stops him, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Okay, I get it, I get it!” He grabs Castiel’s hand. “Can I put this damned thing on you now before I just drop it and ravish you?” 

Castiel nods, his voice flown away with his heart, and Dean slips the ring on his finger.

Dean holds Castiel’s hand for a second longer, tilting it back and forth as the ring catches the light and bounces reflections around the room. 

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispers, then raises Castiel’s hand to his lips, kissing the ring there.

Castiel’s other hand raises to Dean’s face, tilting his head up.

“I felt the coldness of my winter, I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so.”

Dean’s eyes squint. “Did you just quote ‘The Rain Song’ to me?”

Castiel smiles, remembering the first time he heard the song on the cassette Dean had made for him.

“You quoted it to me first.” 

They fall silent, content, and listen as the rain continues to fall, pattering on the roof. 

[pengychan]

[Coco] The Bedside Ghost, Ch. 4

Title: The Bedside Ghost Summary: The bell falls but, instead of waking up in the Land of the Dead, Ernesto de la Cruz finds himself with a broken spine - and an unwanted guest at his bedside who claims he can let him have the sweet release of death, if he gives back what he took from him… Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Coco Rivera, Héctor Rivera, Julio Rivera, Imelda Rivera. Rating: T Status: in progress [This is the fic’s tag for all chapters up.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: If you thought Ernesto was going to come clean right away, think again.

***

“You’re joking.”

“I absolutely am not.”

“You set a rooster free in a church, really?”

“And it went straight for the holy bread. No communion that day.”

Coco pressed a hand against her mouth, trying to smother a laugh. It came out of her nose as a painful-sounding honk. “Pffft! Hah! Sorry, I… why did you do it?”

Ernesto laughed. It had been a somewhat jarring sound at first, like she supposed an instrument would sound when left unused for too long, but now it sounded more like an actual laugh. The more he talked, the more she could glimpse the man she remembered from when she was little - healthier, livelier. At that point she wasn’t sure which one of them needed that conversation the most: if her to hear about her father, or Ernesto to reminiscence of better days.

“I honestly can’t remember that,” he was saying. “We must have thought it a good idea at the time. We probably wanted an excuse to be out of there early.”

“Haha! Did they ever find out it was you?”

“We lived to tell the tale, so... no.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Quite a bit of commotion. A nun fainted. I think the rooster got to bathe in holy water before it was caught and became someone’s dinner, but didn’t go down without a fight,” Ernesto said, and laughed again - only that it turned into a coughing fit after a few moments, and Coco’s own smile faded quickly. She stood in sudden alarm, unsure of what to do.

Ernesto coughed again, and glanced down at the table, at the glass of water Griselda had left there when she’d come to leave some coffee and sweets - for her only, though, and she could only assume he wouldn’t want to be assisted eating and drinking in someone else’s presence - and Coco immediately went to pick it up.

“Here,” she said, reaching to cup the back of his head with one hand, and brought the glass to his mouth. He gulped down half the glass before pulling back, resting his head against the headrest of his wheelchair and breathing deeply through his nose, eyes shut. She put the glass down and reached for a clean napkin without thinking, to dry off the water that had spilled down his chin. “Is everything all right?”

Ernesto swallowed once or twice, and nodded. Suddenly, he didn’t look lively at all - like the coughing fit, and the need for her help, had brought reality crashing back down on him: he was no longer a healthy boy up to mischief with his best friend, but a man just over fifty unable to even lift a hand to get himself a glass of water, or wipe his own face.

The thought caused something in Coco’s chest to ache. She hadn’t meant to humiliate him, she only wanted to help. “Would you like me to call Griselda, or-”

“No,” Ernesto rasped, and cleared his throat, opened his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was firmer. “Not just yet. She’ll be here shortly, anyway. I would keep you company for dinner, but…” he paused, and gave a smile that was almost a sneer. “As you can imagine, I cannot eat on my own. There is phone you can use, if you’d like to reassure your family that you arrived safe and sound.”

The idea of asking for a phone to call the inn in Santa Cecilia and leave a message had crossed her mind, but she’d forgotten to. Coco nodded, and smiled. “I’ll do that. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Anything for Héctor’s family,” he muttered, and there seemed to be something bitter in his voice - but before she could ask, he suddenly cackled. “Hah! That was a good one!”

“Huh?” Coco blinked, taken aback, when Ernesto’s expression opened into what was nothing short of a grin.

“You might like to hear this one,” he said, and Coco sat back down, rather relieved to see him like that again. “We were in Oaxaca. There was… yes, there was this one time when we really needed to make a call. We needed to have a telegram sent but we had no money to. We knew someone who could send one for us if we asked, but we had to get in touch. There was this fancy hotel that had a phone in its lobby, one of the few at the time. Only that of course it was for the personnel and guests, and we were neither. So I had an idea--” he trailed off, and Coco could have sworn his eyes flickered to her left for a moment before he rolled them. “All right, fine,” he muttered. “So, Héctor had an idea.”

That caused Coco to smile a bit. She remembered her father as gentle, tender and yes, fun to be around - but she had never known how much of a trickster he could be, always coming up with far-fetched schemes, pranks, and stories to get out of trouble that ranged from surprisingly convincing to absolute nonsense.

“What kind of idea?”

“Well, we… he figured that no one would turn away a man begging to make a call while his wife was in labor.”

How far along are you, dear?

Coco made an effort to push Griselda’s question in the back of her mind - it was only a guess, after all - and found herself smiling. “Did you find someone to play the part for you?”

“Well, we did find someone who could let us borrow a dress and a hat.”

“... What?”

“And a pillow. It fit Héctor pretty well. The dress, I mean, not the pillow. That was a bit of a struggle to get under the dress, but we managed.”

Oh. Oh . Coco reached up to press a hand against her mouth, but it did little to keep back her laughter. “Hah! He went and pretended to be pregnant?”

Ernesto nodded, the grin back on his face. “Well, I wasn’t going to be able to pull it off convincingly. Plus, the dress didn’t fit me.”

“And they believed it?”

“To be entirely fair, Héctor knew how to wear a dress. He had to shave his goatee, though, and I am sure he cried a bit over it,” Ernesto said, and seemed to pause for a moment as though listening to something before laughing. “Yes, he definitely shed a tear or two. But it grew back quickly, so no harm done. I was able to make the call and have the telegram sent while he was in the lobby, shrieking like an eagle that the baby was coming. Except that one of the guests was a doctor and was called downstairs before I was done, so he had to hold him off before he tried to examine ‘her’ and things got complicated.”

“Hold him off?”

“He pretended to panic and ran from him through the lobby like a headless chicken. Or maybe he was really panicking. He would have had a good reason to, with half the place’s security nearby. We were able to run off, though, and as far as I know they never... is everything all right?”

For a few moments, Coco was unable to reply: she could only try and fail to hold back the braying sound that only vaguely sounded like laughter, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Jesus, she was tearing up and her sides hurt, but she couldn’t stop laughing. “Hahahaha! I-I’m sorry, I just-- hahahahaha! That must have been a sight!” she wheezed. With the mind’s eye she could see her father’s face, from the torn scrap of photograph she’d salvaged, and trying to imagine him in that situation brought forth another gale of laughter.

And yet, even now, there was something in her chest that hurt, the thought that she should have heard that tale years ago, and from him. He should have told her while she sat on his knees, and they would have laughed together. Maybe her mother would have laughed, too, though rolling her eyes in that way of hers to show disapproval. Maybe.

What would she have thought? What would she had said? I don’t even remember how they were around each other. He played music and she sang, but I remember nothing else.

She would never know, of course, because there was no way she could tell her mother that story without ripping open a wound that, she knew, had never quite healed. Coco knew she had a right to know, but her mother also had a right to forget. She needed those stories, but she could never force them on her mother. She could never tell her, or anyone else at home.

It was that thought that finally stopped her laughter. She muttered an apology, wiping her eyes, not entirely sure those were all tears of mirth anymore. She tried to think of something else to say, but before she could there was a knock at the door. When she turned, still wiping her eyes, Griselda was stepping in.

“My apologies. It is time for dinner. Would you like la señora Rivera to join--”

“No,” Ernesto said, very quickly, and Coco couldn’t fault him for not wishing her to be there while he was fed. “She… see that she’s served dinner. She may require the phone as well. Whatever she asks for, make sure it's provided,” he added, and turned to glance at her. The mirth seemed to be already gone from his face, leaving it oddly blank. “I hope you don't mind dining on your own. I would be of poor company, I am afraid.”

She nodded. “I don't mind at all. Thanks for the hospitality. And for telling me about papá.”

“I had to,” Ernesto murmured, sounding very tired, and very frail. “I will see you in the morning. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Coco said, and watched in silence as Griselda wheeled him away, hoping with all her heart that he’d have a more restful night than the previous had been.

***

Héctor did not follow him upstairs. It was a relief, really, being able to have a meal without his jeering. All that he had to listen to was Griselda’s constant stream of words as she talked about the garden, the weather, late deliveries and another dozen small things that Ernesto honestly couldn’t even begin to care about, but that felt so soothingly normal.

She insisted for him to have at least a tangerine - he had two - and he dutifully agreed that yes, they did taste really good. He was spared conversation for most of what followed; she knew all too well that he preferred to keep his eyes shut and pretend nothing was happening throughout most of the routine of preparing him for sleep. She only spoke again while tending to the ulcers on his back. “It felt good to hear you laugh, señor de la Cruz.”

Ernesto opened his eyes, but he may as well kept them shut. He was resting on his stomach, head turned to his left, facing the wall. He could see her shadow on it.

“Were you eavesdropping or what?”

“Oh, you offend me,” Griselda quipped. There was the sound of a bottle being opened, a strong smell of iodine. “You could be heard all the way from the front hall. You should do it more often. Your voice was never damaged.”

Ernesto would have happily traded his voice for just being able to move his arms, but chose not to say as much. He closed his eyes again. “We were talking about better days,” he finally said, very quietly. “A long time ago.”

How long had it been since last time he’d allowed himself to think not only of Héctor as he used to be when he was alive, but of everything that had been before he’d taken his life and that damn songbook? Decades, at least. He’d left it all behind, stored it away like you would with old broken toys in a dusty attic, and never turned back.

But now he had and it all felt so vivid, like it had happened hours earlier. He’d walked into the attic and brushed the dust off that heap of broken things to see that they were not broken, after all. It had been a good time. They had a good time. When had he forgotten that?

Never, really. He hadn’t really forgotten a thing, as it had turned out. The more he talked the more came back to him, and he found he couldn’t stop remembering - even more so with Héctor spurring him on, leaning on the armchair his daughter sat on. She laughed at the stories, and he could hear him laughing as well.

“Hah! That was fun, wasn’t it? Hey, hey! Tell her that one time we tried to ride your father’s horse! And remember when that wild dog chased us up a tree? Oh! And the rooster in church! Don’t forget that time - wait a moment, that was my idea, don’t try to take credit--!”

He’d looked like he had as a boy most of the time, but sometimes he had looked like he had before his death too, and he had also acted like it: no sneers, no mocking, laughing with him rather than at him. That was… no, it wasn’t new, it was how it used to be. Like nothing had ever happened. Like that night had never happened.

Except that it had; memories from before had been a respite, but nothing more. He’d traded all that there had been for songs, and fame. Fame had come, sure enough, but then the bell had come crashing down on him. It should have spelled his end but it had snapped his spine instead, he was stuck there and there could be no going back. He’d give anything - his mansion, his fame, all of it - to go back to the life he’d had Santa Cecilia.

Play in the plaza, go out for a drink, laugh and boast and poke fun at Héctor at any chance he got. Getting him in trouble with Imelda if he kept him out too late, rolling his eyes when Héctor brought his wife along but grudgingly admitting she could sing. Complaining when he was tricked into babysitting duty, and getting payback by singing very inappropriate songs to the laughing toddler. It had seemed such a limited world back then but oh God, how he longed for it now. If he’d known what price he’d pay for his dreams, he’d have never thrown-- him -- it all away.

“... Señor de la Cruz?”

Ernesto tried to ask her what was it, what did she want, but he found he couldn’t do it; a keening sound was all that left him. There was something stuck in his throat that kept him from speaking, kept him from breathing in anything but short gasps and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

There was a touch on his head, calloused fingers running through his hair, and thank God no words at all. He kept his eyes screwed shut, focused on the touch, and little by little he got his breathing under control, the knot in his throat loosening. I want to be gone, he thought, and tried to say as much, but that was not what left his mouth.

“I want to go home.”

If Griselda heard his mumble, she said nothing. She murmured something he supposed was meant to be soothing, finished tending to his ulcers, and moved him to a sleeping position on his side before pulling the covers over him. He felt her brushing his hair back again.

“Would you like an injection, señor?” she asked, very gently. “To help you sleep.”

Ernesto nodded, keeping his eyes shut. “Por favor,” he rasped.

That one plea, at least, was answered.

***

Coco couldn’t sleep.

Not that she didn’t need to: she was tired in a way she had ever been before. It had been a long journey to get there, and the entire thing had been emotionally draining to say the least.

She had been accompanied into a bedroom that was larger than her home’s living room, and far more luxurious. She was resting on her own on a bed larger than the one she shared with Julio, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to relax in it. It was too far removed from anything she’d ever known, too far from home.

She had gotten little to no sleep before she left, too. She had stayed wide awake for hours, with Julio’s arms around her and their mijita resting snugly between them - because she may be too big to sleep with mamá and papá, as she often claimed, but she wasn’t yet old enough not to be scared at the notion her mother would leave for days early the next morning.

If the tale of her disappearing grandfather had taught her anything, it was that no good things come from a parent who leaves the household and heads to a big city. Coco and Julio had done their best to reassure her that she would be back soon, and hopefully she believed them, but some things are hard to shake off. Coco would know; she’d grown up tip-toeing around the subject, while her mother worked herself to the bone to provide for her and make up for that unspoken absence at the same time.

The thought of her mother was another stab in the gut. She had said nothing to her before leaving, hadn’t even seen her, because she’d feared she would say something that she’d regret… or, worse yet, that mamá would convince her to stay, to just forget all about it, all about him, like she’d been trying to do for all those years.

Coco couldn’t fault her; she had been left in a difficult position. Betrayed in the worst possible way, alone with a child to raise, she’d still been the best mother she could have asked for. Coco had struggled to accept that her papá would never be part of her life - and she had never really accepted it, holding onto a tiny hope she hardly knew was there until the moment she had read Ernesto’s letter - but her mother had needed to fight, tooth and nail, for everything they had; to keep the family she’d brought together against all odds.

Leaving was not a decision Coco had taken lightly, but she had to do it, and she was certain now that she had made the right choice. She needed to know more about her papá if she was to ever put him to rest as her mother wanted, and that was the only way.

If only she could tell her as much without hurting her, gather the courage to explain that part of her had always, and perhaps would always, stare out of the window waiting for her father to come back home - that no ban on music, no amount of pretending he never existed could change that. It was something she couldn’t erase in any way, even though she had done her best - they all had. Her uncles had always been there, too, entertaining her as a child, sometimes covering for her when she went dancing in the plaza behind her mother’s back, walking her down the aisle on her wedding day.

They all had worked hard to give her a happy and secure childhood, and now she had a happy and secure life. There was nothing they could have done any better than they had, and to say that they just couldn’t entirely compensate for that one absence seemed terribly unfair… but it was also how things were. She couldn’t help that, like she couldn’t help holding onto the letters, photos and memories she had of him.

Coco thought of the face that would stare back at her from a scrap of photo, looking younger and younger with each passing year, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. How could her papá just walk away and never turn back? How could he never miss home? She missed it already, was aching to have her little girl in her arms again, and her husband’s presence by her side. Had he ever felt that same longing? Did he ever lie awake like she did now, wishing to be back, or had she never been as important to him as Victoria was to her?

No, he had loved her, at least up to a point. Even after he’d left there had been the letters, lots of them. Poems. So much love poured on paper that sometimes she could still feel it, like a warm blanket on a cold night, and she refused to believe it had been anything but real. But then the letters had stopped, and he had vanished somewhere in the wide world. She knew now that he would never return, but she wanted to understand why he’d walked away, to understand him.

Had travelling made him realize his old life didn’t suit him, that his family was not enough? Had he felt trapped in his marriage, trapped by her very existence? He and his mother had married so young, several years younger than she’d been when Julio had worked up the courage to propose, and Coco was fairly sure she had not been born prematurely as her mother always said. Maybe it had been too early; maybe he hadn’t been ready.

Ernesto might know what had gone through his mind; he had been his friend, after all, his brother in all but blood. They had clearly stayed in touch, if he’d known of his death after he had left them behind. Her papá must have talked to him about his decision, surely, and she should have asked Ernesto about that; it should have been the very first thing she asked, really: she had come there for answers, not stories.

And yet she’d found herself unable to ask why had he left them, when had he died, and how. She had wanted to know about his life, grasping for bits and pieces of the man she barely remembered. Maybe what she wanted to know wasn’t the same as what she needed to know, after all.

With a sigh, Coco turned around in the bed to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling, wishing more than anything to have Julio by her side. She’d called the inn in Santa Cecilia, sure enough, and left a message with the innkeeper - the journey went well, I am fine and will be back soon, give Victoria a kiss from me.

She knew that Paula would pass it on to her husband as soon as he came in asking… but it wasn’t the same as hearing his voice. A short message couldn’t replace a conversation; she knew that well, too, having read and re-read her father’s letters so many times she knew them word by word. And plus, she thought, a hand resting on her stomach, there were things that could only be said in person.

Griselda may have been wrong, of course. She was late, come to think of it, but she’d been before. She had only been feeling slightly nauseous, and a dizzy spell or two were easily explained by the journey, the emotional strain, the little sleep she’d had. It was only speculation, and mentioning it to her family now that she was so far away would only lead to more worry - just about the last thing any of them needed.

She would see things through there, learn everything she had come to find out. She would finally lie the memory of her father to rest and return home. She would mend things with her mother and, if it turned out that she was with child, she would share the news with everyone.

Victoria would be delighted to be a big sister, she was sure of it. Maybe they would make a shortlist of names for her little brother or sister, and let Victoria pick one. Coco was certain she would take that duty very, very seriously. The thought made her smile, and the smile turned into a yawn. Her mind a little more at ease, Coco closed her eyes and turned to rest on her side.

As she drifted off to sleep she hummed, very quietly, a song she’d learned a long time ago.

***

“Abuelita?”

Imelda was not the kind to wince easily, but when the voice rang out suddenly, breaking the deep silence, she couldn’t help it. She almost dropped the pen, and looked up from her desk to see Victoria standing at the doorway, barefoot and in her tiny blue nightgown, hair all ruffled. Under one arm she was holding that odd doll Óscar and Felipe had made for her out of a shoe and some buttons.

“You should be sleeping, Victoria. How many times have I told you not to go barefoot? You could get a splinter in your foot. If there’s something we’re not lacking in this household, that’s shoes.”

Then child entirely ignored the last statement. “You should be sleeping, too,” she said instead, not moving an inch. She was far from a troublesome child, but she had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Imelda had wondered aloud, once, who she got that from. The silent glances the rest of the family had exchanged at the dinner table weren’t lost to her. She didn’t think they had realized she had said as much in jest. Most people had trouble telling when she joked, and she rather liked it that way.

“I have to take care of some business,” Imelda finally replied, looking down at the accounts book. She had been staring at the numbers for a while now, not really getting any accounting done despite her wish to keep her mind busy, but her granddaughter didn’t need to know that. “I’ll be going to sleep soon. Go back--”

“You’re worried for mamá.”

It was a statement, not a question. Typical Victoria. Imelda smiled weakly, too amused to be annoyed at… well. Too amused to be excessively annoyed, at least. “No, I am not. You shouldn’t be either. Your mamá can take care of herse-”

“It’s not that,” Victoria cut her off, wrinkling her nose as though insulted by her attempt at deflecting the real issue, and padded up to her, her bare feet silent on the floor. She grasped her sleeve with a tiny hand, and held tight. “I am not worried and you shouldn’t either. She’s gonna come back, you know.”

Don’t worry, mamá. Papá is gonna come back soon. I know it.

She had believed that too, for a time, but she had been so wrong; Coco had been wrong. Both her trust in the man she’d married and her daughter’s childish certainty that her papá would return to her had been crushed when the letters had stopped, and he had never shown his face at their doorstep again. Coco had held onto hope for much longer than she had; Imelda suspected that she’d never stopped, until Ernesto’s letter had come.

Ernesto, who had taken Héctor away from home in the first place, talking of glory and childish dreams. If he’d never filled his ears with those fantasies, perhaps Héctor would have never left. Imelda found herself wishing that the stage accident had killed him instead of maiming him, so that he could never write that damned letter and break her family apart again. First Héctor, and now Coco.

Papá is gonna come back soon.

She’s gonna come back, you know.

Something in Imelda’s chest ached, and she pulled her granddaughter on her knees, in her arms. For all her bold words, Victoria clung to her far more tightly than she usually would.

“Of course she is,” she said, trying not to think of last time she had given that same reassurance to a child. “I know her too well to think otherwise.”

You also thought you knew your husband, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. Imelda did her best to smother it but it stayed, like the constant drip of water eroding stone.

***

“I told you, señor, the new gardener knows what he’s doing. They have never looked so good before.”

“Hu-uh,” Ernesto mumbled absentmindedly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see young Héctor climbing up one of the apple trees, swinging from branch to branch. He ignored his childish voice calling out for him to join him, like he had so many times when they were children, and glanced up at the tree he was beneath instead.

For once he was grateful that Griselda had insisted on taking him out after breakfast, pushing his wheelchair across the lawn, past the fountain and flower beds, and among the trees. There was something soothing in the rustling leaves, the bits of blue sky he could see through the green.

On a day like that, back in Santa Cecilia--

“Oh, señora Rivera! I sure hope you have been served breakfast!” Griselda’s voice snapped him from his thoughts, and it was probably for the best, all things considered. He turned to see Socorro - Coco, she had asked to be called that - walking up to them. She had tied her hair back in a braid, which was now loose her back rather than pinned up in a bun; it reminded him of how Imelda used to braid her hair, back when Héctor had begun courting her… with disastrous results, at first.

But then he had somehow won her over, she had become more important than anything and anyone else to him, and it had been the beginning of the end. The birth of their daughter had been the last nail in the coffin of the dream they had shared since they were children, one that Ernesto had tried desperately to keep alive, and now look where it got them - Héctor was dead, and he wished he were.

“No, Ernesto, mi hermano. This is where you got us,” Héctor - the adult Héctor, the one who had clutched at his stomach in empty street a long time ago - said quietly, leaning against the same tree where a younger version of himself had been climbing a minute earlier. There was no bite to his remark, no mockery, but Ernesto had no time to wonder about that.

“Yes, yes. It was delicious, thank you,” Coco was saying before turning her gaze on him. When she’d first seen him the previous day, horror and pity had been plain as day on her face; now her smile didn’t waver, and oh God, had Héctor’s smile, too. “I hope you had a good night.”

He had, he supposed. A full night of dreamless sleep was nothing short of a blessing and, for the first time in a long while - he wasn’t certain he wanted to know how long, he felt he would go insane if he did - he had been awakened by the sunlight creeping through the curtains and not by a mocking voice telling him to rise and shine: when he’d opened his eyes, Héctor hadn’t been there at all.

Of course he’d turned up eventually, first as a boy running through the trees and now as the man he’d last seen falling limply on the ground in Mexico City. He stood silently on his left, watching. Ernesto was not surprised, he had known that he wouldn’t go so easily, but there had been respite. He had given him respite.

Maybe he would let him go, once he was satisfied. He prayed that he would.

“I did,” Ernesto said, and turned slightly towards Griselda. “Could you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I will get your medication ready.”

As she left - not without telling Coco something on how she was welcome to any fruit in the grove, a lot of it went to waste and it was such a shame - Ernesto’s gaze moved to Coco. She watched Griselda’s retreating back, and only spoke when she was some distance away.

“She’s very fond on you,” she commented

“Got it in her head she’s your mother,” Héctor muttered, sounding amused. “Only that unlike your mamá, she doesn’t call you Tito all the time. Old Alvaro would call us ‘Tito and Teto’ for a while, remember?”

He did, but he made an effort to push the memory away - he’d been annoyed, so annoyed, that was a stupid nickname for children and it wasn’t how he wanted to be called - to acknowledge Coco’s comment. “I pay her well,” he said, more drily than he’d meant to, and tiled his head slightly on the side. “The satchel on the wheelchair - there is a pocket on the side. Would you…?”

“Of course,” Coco said, and approached to reach inside. When she pulled back, there was something in her hands - a leather-bound, red songbook. Worse for wear now than it had been when he’d taken it and fled, moving on to the next city before Héctor’s body was found; he had flipped through those pages so many times, even after learning each and every song by heart.

Keeping it had been a foolish move, Ernesto knew it: it contained all of the songs that had made him famous, and was entirely written in what was very obviously not his handwriting. If it had fallen in the wrong hands, it would have caused him… problems. Nothing he couldn’t deal with, but problems nonetheless. He should have transcribed the songs, and then burn it, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t.

“Keeping the guitar was a stupid idea, too,” Héctor muttered. “Such a unique piece. It was a small risk, but a risk nonetheless. You could have had another one custom-made at any point, but you kept mine and you played no other. Did you want to keep a trophy? Got sentimental? Both?”

Was there a difference? Ernesto wasn’t sure, and he was too tired to wonder. He ignored the ghost and looked up at Coco, whose gaze was moving from the book to him and then back on the red cover as she clearly wondered what that was about. Ernesto found himself smiling faintly.

“You can open it, it won’t bite. It belonged to your father. It... fell in my possession after he died.”

That caused her to recoil. “Oh,” she exclaimed, and immediately opened it. He watched are her eyes scanned the page, almost hungrily, and he drew in a deep breath. He was remarkably unafraid, all things considered. Any moment now she would recognize those songs, and she would know he had taken credit for her father’s work. Would she react with anger? Would she demand to know how he had gotten his hands on it? Possibly. He was not looking to confess more than he had to, but if she guessed, he wouldn’t deny a thing. There was an odd relief in that, in knowing that whatever came next was entirely up to her. For the first time, relinquishing all control was not horrifying or frustrating.

“Are these… songs?” Coco murmured, flipping through the pages. Instead of anger, what showed on her face was surprise. “I recognize the words. He wrote some in his letters. I… I thought they were poems.”

… Wait. What? “You… never heard them?” Ernesto asked, taken aback. There weren’t many people in Mexico who hadn’t, and he’d have imagined someone from Santa Cecilia especially was bound to have heard them. As a response, Coco gave him a rather sad smile.

“I heard very little music. It is… sort of banned from the household. My mother won’t have it.”

“Wha-- she loved music!” Ernesto blurted out, but even in his surprise the irony wasn’t lost to him. He could no longer stand listening to music, either, especially not his own. It looked like he and Imelda had something in common now. Fate had a sense of humor.

“Too many memories. Music is why my papá left,” Coco explained. Beside him, Héctor’s ghost sighed.

“You. It was you, not music,” he said quietly, resting a ghostly hand on his shoulder. Once again, there was none of the bite Ernesto had grown used to in his voice. “Your dream is why I left. Your ambition is why I never made it to the train back.”

You tried to leave me behind, it was all that I had ever wanted and you were taking it away, Ernesto thought, but he said nothing. No point in arguing with ghosts: it would make him look crazy, and achieve nothing. His own argument sounded weaker and weaker each time he uttered it, anyway. Regardless what he had done to keep it - regardlessly who he had sacrificed for it - that dream was empty, now. It seemed unbearably cruel.

“So you see, I heard none of the songs before,” Coco was going on. “I knew of you - you were… you are too famous for us not to hear about. But music is banned in our house. And we don’t talk about my father. I never knew he was your songwriter.”

No one does. No one but you and I, and you have no idea.

“He… was never too eager to play for huge crowds. He liked it, but he was at his happiest writing songs,” Ernesto found himself saying. He had not expected that situation, hadn’t anticipated it at all. “There… if you’d like to listen to them, there should be still some recordings around somewhere. I am certain Griselda knows where to find them.”

That caused Coco’s face to light up, and somehow that made him more uncomfortable than her anger would have. “Oh, thank you! I would love to hear--” she began, only to trail off and look up at something on his right, suddenly startled.

Ernesto turned, and caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. “Who’s there?”

“Uh… it’s Ramírez, señor. Fom security,” someone muttered, and a man stepped within his line of sight. It was a man from the security, sure enough, those three or four idiots his manager had insisted for him to keep around. They usually stayed well out of sight, and Ernesto didn’t even know their names.

“And what are you doing here? Guarding apples from blackbirds?”

Héctor let out a guffawing laugh. “Good thing old Rafael had no security to keep us off his land - only a mutt you could bribe with scraps. What was his name again?”

Diablo, Ernesto recalled vaguely. A big scruffy thing, but a good dog once he had a full belly - nothing like a devil, easy to befriend. Ernesto had named one of the chihuahuas he'd had later in life after him.

“I, uh, came to check on you, señor,” Ramírez was saying. He was a large man, built like a bull, but he looked like a chastised boy. “I saw Griselda returning without you, and I thought I’d make sure all was well.”

Ernesto snorted. “As you can see, all is well,” he said. He faintly wondered if the man had heard anything of what had just been said, but he found he didn’t care at all. “But you can make yourself useful and tell someone come here and bring me back inside in ten minutes.”

“I can--”

“Not you. Get lost,” Ernesto snapped, and the man nodded. With a mumbled apology and a nod towards Coco, he walked past both of them and back towards the mansion. Ernesto sighed, leaning his head against the headrest. “My apologies. I don’t know why Armando insists I keep them around.”

“Armando?”

“My manager. He seemed convinced there would be crazed fans trying to break in constantly. There were at first,” Ernesto muttered, faintly wondering when last time even was. He waited for Héctor to make a biting remark about the family he’d gotten himself - “some familia, huh?” - but none came. Héctor was nowhere to be seen. “If they’d refused you entry, I would have had an argument to fire them all,” he added, causing Coco to laugh a bit.

“I’m sure he was just trying to help,” she said, and looked back down at the songbook. “Thank you very much for letting me see this,” she said, and moved as though to put it back.

Ernesto shook his head. “No. You can keep it.”

“Oh! That’s very kind of you, but…” she paused, and there was no mistaking the hungry look in her eyes, the way her grip on the songbook tightened even as she spoke again. Had he looked at that same red cover that way, too, when he’d taken it from Héctor’s suitcase? He supposed he might have. “I could never,” she finally added. “He left it to you.”

Left it to him. The notion was so ridiculous, so wrong, and Ernesto almost laughed. Almost, because when he looked over her shoulder Héctor was there again, shaking his head slowly, causing laughter to die in his throat. He looked, again, like a corpse.

“You know I would have given it to you if you’d asked, right?” he said, his voice like old paper. “You only had to ask. I would have moved--”

“... Heaven and Earth for you, mi amigo,” Ernesto murmured, and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. When he opened them again Coco was still looking at him, clearly confused. He shook his head again. “Keep it,” he said. “It’s yours.”

Coco crouched before his wheelchair, and Ernesto had little time to process what was happening. By the time he did her arms were already around his neck. “Thank you,” she said, very quietly, against his temple. He could hear tears in her voice. “Thank you so much.”

Ernesto tried to speak, but something was stuck in his throat, something that tasted more bitter than any medicine he’d had to swallow in those past five years of hell. A few steps away, Héctor looked at them with milky white eyes.

“I would give anything to be in your place right now, old friend. Anything.”

Ernesto closed his eyes not to see him and leaned his head against Coco’s shoulder, saying nothing.

***

[Back to Chapter 3]

[On to Chapter 5]

[xxgiganmasterxx]

The Waterfall Marauder

Among the many waterfalls of the European Dead Zone, there are assortments of old weaponry to sell on the black market. The goal here is to get the best weapons, both fallen and guardians usually fight over these spots, mostly guardians win. Keyword, mostly…

A lone human Warlock armed with a normal pulse rifle and a void sidearm walks along the broken road covered in various foliage. This Warlock, in particular, is on a fetch quest for weapon parts by the waterfalls. Tyler would have been with his friends on the Leviathan, but noooo… He had to lose a bet with Cayde-6 and do shitty fetch quests for a week! He soon hears his ghost go near his head and starts to talk to him.

“Devrim contacted me a while ago, he said that there’s a load of caches of weapons nearby the river. He also stated-” Before the ghost could finish, Tyler rudely interrupted it with hesitation.

“That there can be a group of fallen nearby, I know, I know, I did missions like these a few hundred times! I don’t need a fuckin’ reminder, for the god’s sake!” Shouted the fouled mouth human Warlock, a mouth that would match better with a hunter, the ghost rolled its bluish eye.

“Sometimes I wonder why I found your body years ago, Tyler…” Tyler only sighed in response, stretching his shoulder as he walked along the road.

Eventually, he sees the waterfall the ghost talked about, only one Fallen, bizarrely… The lone Eliksni that was digging around the waterfall, was a solitary Marauder of The House of Dusk. From what Tyler sees, the Marauder is searching through the large slabs of scrap on the ground, trying to keep its shock blades from touching the water. The Warlock, instead of shooting the bastard fallen’s head clean off, decided to get closer to the waterfall, hiding behind a brush. Tyler eyes the Eliksni marauder, as it stands up completely looking towards a huge pile of scrap; what the human saw just blew his mind!

From what it seems, the fallen is a female! Aside from the normal marauder attire, with the multi-eyed mask, purple cloak and loincloth, spiky hip and shoulder armor, and arc wrist daggers, she seems to have wide hips and a thin waist, muscular yet narrow arms, and good lord... She looks like she has a pair of breasts, easily the size of her head, if not bigger then that! Thing is that they’re completely exposed, her nipples, bizarrely are the same color as the blue lights of her mask, which seems to have girly eyelashes drawn near the eyeholes. Tyler gulped as he observes the female Eliksni as she crouches down slightly and walks to the metal pile…

“Tyler!” Whisper shouted his ghost, the Warlock jumped in place, causing a ruffling sound in the bush. He couldn’t pay attention to the Marauder if she heard them, he had to scold his little light for disturbing his observation!

“What the hell did you do that for!? I was waiting for the right chance for the marauder to find the weapon chest. You know, to make my life easier!” Yelled the human Warlock as he held the ghost in his tight grip, the blue-eyed light bulb grumbled in response.

“More like perving on it… or her, as we know now… So can we just kill that fallen and get th- It’s gone!” The ghost’s eye shrank as it looks behind Tyler. The Warlock raised an eyebrow under his helmet confused on what it meant. Shortly after he turned around and sees that the female marauder has disappeared like she was not there at all…

Suddenly, he heard his ghost yelp in pain, as it is slashed a crossed the back side. Tyler turned around and sees the marauder has basically taken his ghost out of commission.

“Oh shit!” Tyler yelled as he aimed his pulse rifle at the Marauder’s head, the three round burst misses as she hunches over and swipes at his legs with her shock blade, causing a shocking pain to his legs, a second slash goes across his chest, breaking his shields, he tried to reach for his sidearm as a last-ditch effort, but her secondary arms dispatch the gun with ease, her primary set aimed the shock blades at his neck. The Marauder gave a gleeful growl as secondary arms aim for his heart, Tyler could only focus at the fallen bitch who just knocked out his ghost and disarmed him like he was nothing!

“Haha… Warlock has been defeated, yesss? Poor Warlock…” Hissed the Marauder in human tongue before proceeding to giggle, in her youthful witch like tone. Tyler’s eyes widen.

“Wait, you can talk?” He asked as the blades get closer to his neck.The Marauder woman gave a hiss-like chuckle as she tilts her head at the Warlock, if he could see her mouth, she’d be making a shit-eating grin.

“Of course… Did you think traitorssss’ like Variksss can be the only onesss to talk like guardianss?” The Marauder said as she leans her head and chest forward, her boobs lazily hanging down, nearly touching Tyler’s chest. The Warlock looked down at the Marauder’s wrist blades at his chest, only to see her breasts hanging down; Tyler was both scared and amazed at the marauder.

“Sssssstaring at my breastsss, guardian? Or at my bladesss?” Hissed the Eliksni as she keeps her blades in position. Tyler’s mouth was dry, he looked at the mask of the fallen woman above him, he cleared his throat and answered with a hint of fright.

“U-uuhhh… Bit of both?” He honestly said the marauder growled at the human Warlock. She suddenly retracted her wrist blades from his chest and stood up at a slight angle, sitting near his lap.

“Both... I ssseeee… I’ll make an exchange.” She hissed her swords, while not at his neck, is still pointed at him. Tyler didn’t care, he just wants to live!

“Sure, anything you want!” Shouted the human as his guns were far from reach, the Eliksni gave a satisfied hiss at the warlock. Her light blue eyes gleamed with a bit of naughtiness...

“I, Ma’vo will let you live, if you let me take weapons from the waterfall, glimmer, sssssilver… And lastly, ssexxxx~” The Marauder, now named Ma’vo explained, drawing out the last thing on the list, to increase the tension for the Warlock. Tyler’s eyes widen at the mention of sexual intercourse with a fallen!

“Wait, what!? I-I’m not havin’ sex with a fallen!” He shouted, Ma’vo sneered and pointed at his chest.

“Then you chose death, yesss?” She asked, the shock blade a millimeter away from stabbing through his chest. Tyler gulped as the female Eliksni paused as if she was giving him a second chance… The Warlock mustered all his strength and gave his final answer.

“On second thought… Maybe interspecies fucking doesn’t sound bad after all!” He spoke to Ma’vo. The House of Dusk Marauder giggled a little as she sets her blades on her hips and stood up, reaching one hand out and takes the ghost in her hand as if it was a trophy.

“Glad you changed your mind, warlock… Follow me to the big ssssscrap pile, no one will notice our little action~” She ordered the human, taking her left secondary arm and locks it with his right hand, like a mother leading her children to elementary. Tyler just sighed as he walked along with the slightly taller fallen girl. Oh if only his ghost would have stayed quiet, this mess would not have happened…

After the short little walk the two endured, Ma’vo tossed the warlock on his ass behind the metal heap. Her secondary arms set her shock blades on the scrap along with his ghost, and easily undo her loincloth for Tyler, grinning under her mask.

“Ow, shit why theeee…” Before he could finish he stared at the bottomless Eliksni as, her vagina shared the same color as her nipples, besides that, it was shaped like a human woman’s. Ma’vo giggled as she still kept her hooded cloth and armor on, waving her hips to the left and right, her primary arms going to her own breasts and massages them for the warlock’s viewing pleasure. Her second hands took off the wrist blades and toss them with the shock blades and trails back to her hips, playing with the lips of her pussy.

“Hmm, you enjoy warlock?” Ma’vo asked as she looked down at his pants, a faint bulge appears in front of her multiple eyes. She’ll take that as a yes!

Tyler blushed under his helmet as he instinctively reached for his belt, he caught himself mid-action. He looked away shyly, not answering the Eliksni girl. She giggled at how cute Tyler’s denial is, she went on her knees and sets her secondary arms on his pants while her primary feel the armor on his chest. Ma’vo purrs loudly enough for the Warlock to hear, she quickly undid his belt within a second, tossing it on her blades.

“It’s fine, warlock, I won’t bite~” She softly hissed, pulling his pants down, revealing his underwear, his dick became a little hard as a result. Ma’vo giggles while pulling his undergarments down, letting Tyler’s cock out in the cool air, the warlock grunted as he rests on his elbows.

“Uuhhh…. O-okay then…” Tyler said as he was unsure about Ma’vo giving him a blowjob, with all those tiny but sharp teeth Eliksni usually have. The fallen Marauder giggled as she takes a hold of Tyler’s dick with her right primary hand, slowly stroking him watching his foreskin retract and stretch by the touch of her palm. The human bites his lip as the insect-like alien slowly stroked his cock, hissing happily.

The Eliksni’s second pair of arms held onto the human’s hips. Ma’vo grinned under her mask as she dragged her chest close to his pants, her large tits at the side of Tyler’s dick. The fallen woman still jerked off the Warlock, Tyler gasped quietly as he watched Ma’vo’s breast move like water balloons over her arm. She clicks her mandibles together, taking her hand away from his cock.

Ma’vo takes the claw that was jerking him off and holds Tyler’s wrist, humming at the human. Her masked face looked down at the erect shaft between her large tits. A secondary hand below her wrist holding claw gropes one boob as a primary claw does the same to the other, clasping the boobs together around Tyler’s dick. The Warlock leaned his head back as he groans softly.

“Oh… F-fuck!” He mumbled out as Ma’vo chirped cheerfully, slowly bringing her breasts up and down around his dick, squishing a bit on his pants. The Marauder gave a happy chirp again, and slowly dragged his pants down with her free lower left claw. The Warlock bit his lip under his mask as he felt the cool water flow on his behind. Tyler knew he couldn’t help but take the hand that wasn’t held down by Ma’vo and places it on the side of her face, feeling her curved mask. Ma’vo gave a sly grin in response, rubbing against his hand like a cat. The both of them look back to Ma’vo’s tits; Tyler’s erection firmly wedged between the Eliksni’s rack, beads of precum coated the alien’s cleavage.

“Hmmm~ I sssee you love my breasstssss, yesssss?” Ma’vo asked as she bobbed her arms down in opposite directions. Tyler took his hand off the Eliksni’s face and held onto her hood tight as his pre flowed out more onto Ma’vo’s big assets.

“Y-yeah… Oh-h shit! I’m soooo d-damn close!~” He muttered with series of rapid pants. Ma’vo giggled as she sees the human trying to get up and away from her tits, probably to climax on her mask and chest. She inched away some so Tyler can get on his knees.

The warlock didn’t mind his pants getting wet as he sees Ma’vo hold her tits together with her secondary arms, as the primary claws went behind her head. He stood up on one foot to gain a little height, gripping his penis in his hand and starts to jerk off. Grunts passed his teeth as he becomes close to orgasm. Ma’vo chirped as his penis is pumped in front of her eyes.

“Goooddd~ Cum on my breassstss, warlock!~” Teased the Marauder seductress, jiggling her perky, yet soft titties up and down in a quick session. Tyler gave a thunderous moan as he climaxes at last. Two strings of cum fly out at the same time and land on Ma’vo’s right breast, followed by another at her left. Ma’vo gives a delighted hiss as more of Tyler’s spunk land on her large boobs. The Warlock shot his load in the form of eight strings on each breast, his hand slowed down. Ma’vo looked up at the warlock’s helmet and tilted her head slowly, she is rather impressed by his first orgasm, she turned her head down and observed the hot mess.

Ma’vo giggled at the amount of cum he produced, nearly perfect milk colored lines painted her lavender colored skin and dark purple plating; it might take some time to clean the spunk out of her cloak since it also got cummed on; oh well! The fallen Marauder’s primary claws went to her breasts and spread the semen around her skin, with the assistance of her secondary paws. Tyler felt hot in his helmet, he took whatever strength he had left over and removed his helmet. He blinked a bit with his greenish blue eyes, his peach colored skin flushed red around his cheeks, he dragged a hand through his short dark brown hair. The Eliksni giggled at the man’s appearance, rubbing her light blue nipples some.

“Enjoyed your orgasssm?” Ma’vo asked as she stood up for a bit, only to sit on the scrap pile they’re currently hiding behind; both were still hidden from any view at this point. Tyler looked at Ma’vo and nodded, unable to speak properly for the time being. The Marauder giggled as she spreads her legs apart, showing Tyler her clit once again. The human warlock turned his attention to his sex partner’s light blue vagina, light blue juices flowed out of her slit and spread to her ass cheeks and anus. To be honest, if he didn’t climax on her breasts, he’d fuck the Eliksni on the spot; but his tongue on the other hand…

“I sure as hell did! Say… I want to return the favor~” Tyler muttered as he lowered his lips to Ma’vo’s nether regions. The Marauder slut gave an accepting hiss as she lowered her lower right claw down and spreads the lips of her pussy for him.

“Of courssse, warlock! Taste me, human~” Ordered the fallen, Tyler gave a sly grin as he gave her blue colored pussy a sweet kiss on the clit. Ma’vo gives off a short hum as she feels her pussy being kissed softly, she took her lower left claw behind his head and starts to grope her tits with the primary palms at the same time. Trevor looked up at the Eliksni’s face he gives a sly grin to her before giving her light blue nub a quick flick of the tongue. Ma’vo sighed in a high pitch as her mate’s tongue explores her, suddenly she felt Tyler’s tongue enter her womanhood; she rears her head back and moans somewhat loud.

“Mmmm~ Yesssss~ Th-that!~ That’s th-the ssspaaa~” Ma’vo couldn’t finish her sentence, Tyler’s dexterous tongue overwhelmed her senses. The warlock gave a muffled chuckle as he feels around the Eliksni’s snatch. Ma’vo looks between her breasts and sees his face deep into her womanhood, she found it funny that his nose positioned above her pussy to be pretty cute and funny, humans are weird with those triangular organs. Tyler felt the folds of the Eliksni starts to tighten around his tongue, he knew she was close to orgasm. She starts to buck her hips against his jaw, her juices flowed out quickly; Ma’vo curled up some and kneed her own boobs.

“G-ggaahh! Oh, war-rlo-laaa~ Don’t… D-Don’t sssstop!~” Ma’vo’s eyes rolled up as her hips shuddered around Tyler’s face. The human grins devilishly as he rubs the tip of his tongue around her g-spot, light blue juices coated his chin and slowly flowed down his neck. Ma’vo’s legs start to shake violently as her muscles of her vagina flexed rapidly. Tyler soon felt a rush of juices spill onto his face, light blue fluids flooded from her tunnel. The warlock hummed as he tastes the femcum, it had a sweet, tangy flavor; he couldn’t help but crave for more.

“Aaahhhh~ Mmmmm…” Ma’vo tilted her head down at Tyler and giggles. Her first set of arms went from her breasts and onto the side of the warlock’s head, he gives the marauder’s clit one last lick before lifting his head up to see her mask. The warlock just chuckled before sitting down next to Ma’vo’s left, taking his right hand on his chin and licks her juices off his fingers. Ma’vo giggled and lays on her side to face Tyler, she looked down and sees his erection slowly stand up again.

“You taste… Pretty good~” Tyler softly noted as he reaches down his cock and rubs the tip slowly, Ma’vo gives a confirming click in response. The Eliksni trailed a claw around Tyler’s chest, humming a little tune to him, she couldn’t help but stare at the waiting rod. Her pussy’s muscles relaxed from her last orgasm but just seeing the cock just turns her on so bad!

“Thank you, guardian! It felt pretty good~ Now…” Ma’vo moves up and lays on top of the warlock. She stands up and sits on his lap, a lustful chirp comes from her throat. Tyler gives a sly grin as he places his hands on her thick thighs, even with the spiked armor and leather straps.

“Ssshall we proceed with our mating?~” Questioned the sexy fallen marauder, her slit inches away from the warlock’s cock. Tyler smiled as he gave her ass a quick slap.

“Hell yeah!” The warlock stated his dick flexed towards the Eliksni’s groin, his tip touch her bottom abs. Ma’vo giggled, she took a few male dregs in her lifetime, but the human’s larger than life member could easily be the best dick she had ever! Ma’vo giggles as she raises herself up and looks back at the warlock, her eyes burning with lust.

“Hmmm.. Prepare~” She simply answered, a claw helps align their sexual organs together. Slowly, the tip of the human enters the Eliksni’s vagina, both marauder and warlock give out a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh fuck… D-dammit…” Tyler swore as he feels the folds of the alien go down at a slow pace. Ma’vo clenches one breast with a claw as she stops halfway, she turned her head to her warlock lover and chirps some.

“Hhhaagghh… Oh warlock, pleassse… Pro-oceed…” Ma’vo requested as she takes both secondary arms and plants them both on her thick ass cheeks. Tyler leaned up some and held Ma’vo’s midsection, he slowly thrust his penis inside her. The two shudder at the sexual sensation as Tyler thrust up until his balls bumped into her pussy. He then pulls back, only leaving his glans inside Ma’vo; a transparent light blue fluid sticks onto his foreskin.

“Y-yeessssss~ F-fasssterrr…” Ma’vo begged as she instinctively slams her hips down on top of his own. Tyler shuts his eyes as the speed of his humping increased gradually, his breath quicken as his precum is slathered on her cervix. The Eliksni’s eyes rolled up her head tilted to the sky as she starts to orgasm once again. Tyler shuts his eyes as the light blue folds grip his shaft; he didn’t feel his climax, not yet anyway. The warlock then gets an idea!

“Hey… M-Ma’vo… Get on y-your back…” Requested Tyler as he takes his strength to get Ma’vo off his dick. The Eliksni grumbled, she loved being on top of men! But he was the best mate she had in a long time… She’ll just suck it up and do as he says. The Eliksni took herself off the warlock and sits next to him. Tyler smiles at her as he goes between her legs with his hard cock in the air. Ma’vo being impatient takes a lower claw and gave her mate a quick hand job. Tyler chuckled as he held his dick with the marauder, both hands lead to Ma’vo’s pussy as it slides in perfectly.

“Mmmm~ G-ggaahh… Yessss!” Ma’vo moaned once again as she shuts her eyes and takes both lower claws around Tyler’s waist and holds him tight as he continues humping his lover as if they didn’t change positions. The Eliksni’s cervix is pushed upon by the human, a warm sensation overflowed her body. Her tits bounced uncontrollably without a care as Tyler leans in closer. Ma’vo takes one hand to remove her mask, sets it aside with her blades and shows Tyler her real face.

Tyler stared into the four eyes of the fallen woman, her eyes glowed a light blue, unsurprisingly. Her teeth small and sharp like a shark’s, a pair of mandibles flared apart as she breathes heavily from the sex the two are having. Both warlock and marauder stare each other as they become closer to orgasm; Tyler’s balls slapped against Ma’vo’s ass cheeks. The marauder takes her top arm pair and wraps them around his shoulders; the warlock grinned as he takes a hand and gropes the busty Eliksni, the Marauder gave a sexy yelp as her mate holds a handful of her assets.

“Hnngh! Oh lord… I thi-think I’m gonna caa~ cum soon-n!” Tyler whispered as his face is inches from Ma’vo’s. The Marauder gave a bliss-filled hiss before she leans forward and plants her mouth against the warlock’s lips. Tyler didn’t even flinch, if anything he leaned his face forward as well, trying not to stab himself on her teeth. Ma’vo’s mandibles hugged the human’s cheekbones as their tongues fight for dominance in the warlock’s mouth.

Soon, precum slathered Ma’vo’s insides as both partners stopped their make-out session to shut their eyes hard. Ma’vo starts to scream out her orgasm, her walls tighten around Tyler’s cock in a muscle contracting rhythm. Anyone that was near the waterfall that the couple resides in would only think of it would be a dreg being tortured by the cabal.

“Aaaaggggaaghhh!! Ohhhh~ Mmmmmm! C-cum in me! Fill me!” Ma’vo begged as her legs locked behind Tyler’s ass, all four of her arms held the human tight as the warlock increased his speed, his primal instincts took command as he finally climaxes inside the Eliksni slut.

“Uuugggghhh… Aaaaahhh!!~” Tyler held his head high in the air. Ma’vo shakes her legs intensely as the tip of her mate’s cock entered her womb and unleashed his hot spunk inside her. The marauder’s eyes rolled up and her tongue hangs out; the amount of cum inside her now must be at least the same amount that was on her breasts a while ago, if not more! After a few moments of standing still, the human warlock and fallen marauder looked back at each other, both panting hard from their sex.

“Hmmmm~ Warlock… You are the best mate I ever had in yearssss~~” Ma’vo spoke softly as she licked her mandibles, Tyler grinned and looked down at her lavender colored tits and light blue nipples.

“What can I say? I’m the best there is!” He confidently replied as he leaned towards her face again and locked mouths with each other, only for a few seconds.

The warlock got back on his knees and pulled his dick out, covered in both Ma’vo’s light blue pussy juice and his own white cum. The marauder got on her elbows and she shuddered some after feeling the semen of her lover slowly flow out. With a thud on the scrap hill, Tyler sits next to Ma’vo’s side; his energy is completely spent. Ma’vo gives off a blissful chirp as she gets up and puts her loincloth back on along with her mask. Tyler stretched his arms before taking them back to his groin and take his shaft back in his underwear and pants. The marauder takes her cloak and brings down the cloth over her breasts, which seems it’s trying to get back in the place she once put it in; seems to explain why she was bare-chested in the first place.

The marauder lays on top of the warlock and rubs her head on his shoulder, satisfied with her lovely human mate. The warlock smiled and kisses the top of her head. Tyler hears a whining sound nearby and tilts his head up and sees his ghost went into standby mode next to Ma’vo’s blades. Tyler sighed as he knew his ghost is alright for now…

“Ssssso… Your ghossst is alive, yesss?” Ma’vo questioned as she tilted her head up and rubbed the dark brown hair of the human, Tyler just gave a small smile as her claw trailed around his peach-colored face.

“Seems it is!” He said as he tries to get off the scrap pile and stands on his feet, he reaches for his ghost but the Eliksni was not done with him yet. The marauder stood up as well and points a claw at his chest.

“Now, ssshall I receive my ssssilver and glimmer? You remember the resssst of our deal, yess?” Ma’vo demanded Tyler, complete their little deal with each other. The warlock rolled his eyes and reached around his pockets, wishing he wasn’t paying her like a prostitute.

“Fine, how much do you want?” He asked before the fallen woman snatches a two handful of glimmer and silver with one fell swoop, Tyler felt like he sees a sniper bullet whizzed past him.

“Thessse will be enough!” The human warlock grumbled at the little thief as she triumphantly stole a bunch of his currency off of him! That, and he has to find a new weapon cache around the other waterfalls, just great!

“Could have asked… Sheesh!” Tyler crossed his arms as he reaches out for his ghost and holds it in his hand, his thumb ready to activate it again, if he wanted to.

“Hm, why would a little-fallen marauder like me asssk? Much fun to sssssteal, inssstead!” Mocked the lady Eliksni as she takes her primary arms behind her head and gloats at the guardian!

“But… I loved our encounter, human. I truly do~” She confidently stated as she gets behind Tyler and nuzzles her face against his neck, the warlock couldn’t help but smile at the cute and sexy fallen girl behind him.

“Same thing, Ma’vo~ Maybe we can meet again in different circumstances! By the way, my name’s Tyler!” As Tyler gave Ma’vo his name, the marauder hummed and steps away from her life partner.

“I’ll remember that name, I won’t ussse it, however!” Ma’vo giggled as she reaches for her blades and chirps loud at Tyler so he can catch his belt and helmet.

“Heh, better to be remembered, I guess…” He spoke as he puts his belt back on first and takes his helmet back on, he still kept a good grip on his ghost while doing so. The marauder puts the wrist blades back on her secondary pair of arms and sets her shock blades on her hips again.

“Now, leave me be, warlock~ Or I ssshall dominate you again!” Teased the Eliksni, putting emphasis on dominate, both knowing what she meant! Tyler shrugged and sees the silhouettes of his guns, glad that they remain untouched. The Marauder gave a teasing push against the warlock’s back, Tyler almost fell into the shallow water.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” He joked, know she’s just toying with him. The warlock walked back to the same spot where he got discovered in the first place and sets his weapons back in their proper places, and he turned to Ma’vo before waving goodbye to her, the Marauder gave a soft smile under her mask and nods, she turns her attention to the large pile of scrap and proceeds to work on the finding any useful weaponry.

Tyler smiled too and heads off to the other waterfalls, maybe if his ghost talked some more with some other female aliens, he’d get laid more often. That silly thought runs through his head as he walks along the road, he’ll activate his ghost when he feels like there would be another fight around the corner. Back to the monotonous fetch quest again!

Ma’vo sees the vanishing shape of the warlock, he places one claw on her belly and rubs it. She looks down and sees two hands with silver and glimmer clenched in them. One hand had the trade-off with the deal, and another as a “Bonus” when she nuzzled against him. She laughed silently to herself, wondering how pissed he must be when he finds out. She brings a large plate of steel up and sees an exotic weapon, a powerful rocket launcher known as the Gjallarhorn. She smirked under her mask as she brings the weapon out from its hiding spot and places it on her back; she soon activates her cloaking and dashes off back to her base. She honestly felt like luck was on her side this day with every positive thing that happened to her! Without a doubt, she’ll meet the guardian again!

[joonie-beanie]

Welcome To The Wild Side [3]

<– [2] | [4] -->

Genre: Superpowers + College AU

Rated: T

Words: 1,531

A/N: Hey there! I bet no one even remember that I have this fic since it’s not a popular one, but I’ve had this chapter saved up for a while, so I figured I’d post it since I’m working on a new one tonight ^^

This story is really just meant to be fun, so I don’t really feel pressured to write it, which makes it fun for me haha. Anyway! If you read this I hope you enjoy!

“So…you’re basically all lame assholes,” you say plainly, sat on the carpet floor of the bottom floor of the library. This is where the boys had led you on your wild marathon to avoid the cops—so now here you are, locked into one of the computer labs that had been empty prior to your arrival, and all the boys had managed to tell your so far was all of their names.

Yoongi scoffs. “Well that’s a strange thing to call the people who just saved your sorry ass.”

You hum in half-hearted agreement, rummaging through your backpack for a snack. All that running had made you hungry.

“But seriously—you guys are just kind of…friends that have superpowers, right? You’re not like a cult or anything?” you ask, finally finding a smashed bag of pretzels underneath your pencil case. Ripping the bag open, you pop one into your mouth and then offer some to Jin when you see that he’s looking at you, his puppy-eyes surreal.

“That’s rig—,” Namjoon begins to confirm, but is cut off when Taehyung suddenly smacks Jungkook in the arm—and the two hop to their feet.

“Prepare for trouble!” Taehyung grins.

“And make it double!” Jungkook continues, mimicking Taehyung’s outlandish pose.

“Jesus fucking Christ kill me,” Yoongi groans, and you laugh behind your hand.

“To protect the world from devastation!”

“To unite all peoples within our nation!”

“To denounce the evils of truth and love!”

“To extend our reach to the stars above!”

Taehyung strikes a new pose. “Taehyung!”

Jungkook does so as well. “Jungkook!”

“Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!”

“Surrender now, or prepare to—!”

“—get your fucking asses kicked, sit the fuck down!” Hoseok interjects, tugging them both back to the floor. Both boys come crashing down hard onto their asses, and you giggle again, shooting Hoseok a smile. He immediately returns the gesture.

“Like I was saying,” Namjoon continues, rubbing at his head. You kind of wonder if maybe his head injury is healed after all. “We’re all friends. Found each other one way or another, ya know?”

“As friends do,” you nod. Namjoon’s eyes lighten with amusement.

“So, we stick together. And now you’re gonna stick with us.”

“Me?” you question, surprised. Sure, Jimin had joked earlier that you were a part of their ‘club’ now, but…, “I don’t have powers or anything.”

“All the more reason why you need strong men like us around,” Jin winks, his tone only slightly joking, and you roll your eyes but are unable to help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“Step down off your high horses, O gifted ones,” you respond. “I appreciate the help but…you don’t need to feel the need to be my knights or anything. I’m sure I’ll be fine now that red-eyes is…you know.”

“After one comes others,” Jimin speaks. “We’re not trying to become your knights—just your friends. In case something like this happens again. The world is always dangerous, after all.”

“I…well…,” you pause in contemplation, staring at them all. You’re not quite sure what to say. You don’t want their help, but you’re also…trilled at their offer of friendship (and protection, a voice deep in your mind adds). You don’t have many friends with powers—only one girlfriend who can turn people to stone with a glance (and she can’t use such a power too often)—and these boys—if you’re being honest with yourself—are very interesting (and good looking). You want to get to know them more.

“I guess—,” you begin to agree, but are cut off by the faint sound of buzzing. It’s coming from your bag, you realize after a quick second, and immediately gasp. You fly to feet before any of the boys can think to question what’s wrong—and you accidentally step on Jungkook’s foot in the process.

“Ouch!” he hisses.

“Sorry!” you respond, your hand moving to rustle his dark locks. Immediately he freezes at the feeling, checks flushing with embarrassment when he sees that some of the other boys are sending him sly looks.

“I totally fucking forgot that I was supposed to work!” Rummaging through your backpack, stumbling through the mass of boys on the ground, you finally manage to find your phone. “Oh god,” you groan when you see that you’re already an hour late. “I’m sorry I—I really need to go!”

Quickly making sure you’ve got all your things, you flash the boy an apologetic smile and then haul ass towards the library door, shouting a “see you later!” over your shoulder. Of course, the librarian at the front desk shushes you, but you could care less.

After you’ve made your hasty departure, Hoseok taps Jungkook’s knee.

“Text her all of our numbers, since we didn’t get the chance to tell her before she ran like hell.”

“What? Why me?” Jungkook mumbles, but nonetheless digs into his jean pocket to fetch his phone.

“Because you’re the one that decided to originally save her cute little ass,” Namjoon tells him, shooting Jungkook a playful grin when the younger scrunches up his face in distaste.

“Was I supposed to let her get murdered??”

“Aish,” Jimin breathes, leaning over to flick Jungkook’s ear. The younger flinches at the contact, instantly raising his hand to inflict some revenge onto Jimin, but he ends up pausing when he sees the elder’s eyes glow. Immediately he forgets about even hitting Jimin back, feeling much calmer, and Jimin smiles.

“You’re the only one that has her number in the first place, idiot—so you have to be the one to text her. It’s the only way.”

“Fine,” Jungkook sighs, and gets to it.

That night—after finishing your shift (and getting on the floor and bowing to Nana, begging for her forgiveness)—you return to your one room loft and collapse face-first onto your bed. After all the drama you’d experienced today, followed by a rushed shift at work, you’re fairly exhausted.

Somehow finding the strength to roll over, you reach for your purse—lip caught between your teeth as your fingers skim the strap—and let out a breath of relief when you finally manage to snag it. Pulling your purse to your side, you dig inside for your phone, pausing in slightly surprise when you see that you have a text from Jungkook amongst all the other various notifications flashing on screen. And…amongst all the other notifications, you also have a text from an unknown number. Huh.

Unknown:

Are you free to hang out sometime this weekend? ^3^ -9:25PM

Frowning at the message, wondering just who exactly this is, you decide to wait to respond, and check Jungkook’s message instead.

Jeon Jungkook:

Here’s a list of all the other guys phone numbers. They demanded that you have them -6:15pm

Below that is a list of 6 phone numbers, all respectively labeled with the other boy’s names right beside them. Smiling slightly at the thought of your new ‘friends’, you get to work saving all their numbers in your phone, and to your surprise, once all the numbers are a part of your contacts, your discover that the mysterious message you’d received is from none other than Park Jimin.

Breathing a laugh, furrowing your brows in confusion, you return to the message and stare at it. Why exactly does Jimin want to hand out, you wonder? But—either way—you decide that Jimin seems nice enough and start typing out a reply.

Creak…

Pausing, you shift your gaze to your door, heart momentarily stopping when you see a shadow passing slowly by your apartment. Why should you be scared though, right? You have neighbors after all…

Shaking your head, scolding yourself for becoming more paranoid in the last week, you fearlessly hop off your bed and walk to the door. Clicking the lock open, you turn the doorknob and pull it open, peeking your head into the hall.

No one is around—and over the railing you can see that no one is on the street below either.

Frowning, you step back into the warmth of your apartment and prepare to shut yourself in for the night—however, before you can do so, something at your feet catches your attention.

There, on the cement in front of your door, is a long, bloody shoelace. Only the ends remain white—the rest a deep, rich shade of red, still glistening with freshness. Perturbed at the sight—and the fact that it’s in front of your door—you quickly snatch up a wad of tissues from inside and then bend down and pick it up, stepping outside to toss it over the railing.

You watch it fall two stories down, to the sidewalk below, and then shiver when a gust of cold air hits you—deciding that it’d be best to go inside. You’re sure one of your neighbors probably just got into a fight or tripped, and one of their laces had accidentally come off in front of your door. That’s it.

Stepping inside and locking yourself in, you finally return to texting Jimin.

Sure! I’m free Saturday c: -10:13PM