#with his crazily clear blue-grey eyes

[starchild--27]

oh nooooo cute boy on the bus did in fact not kiss one of his besties and now he will haunt my brain for the next 2 weeks with stuuuupid romantic scenarios 🫠

[anika-ann]

No Apologies Needed - Pt.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 2380

Warnings: swearing, forced PDA, alcohol

Summary: Your friend left you alone in the bar only to make out with a cute guy she just met. So the plan is to go home. Except things rarely go as planned, do they?

Then again, this change of plans in the form of a handsome stranger seems rather pleasant. Until it doesn’t.

Story Masterlist

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You couldn’t believe she had convinced you to do it again. 

You couldn’t believe you had taken the bait, again.

A girls’ night out, she had said. Just the two of us having drinks, she had said. No boys allowed, she had said.

The first brunette passing your table caught her attention, but Nicol had tried to be a good friend and keep her promise, ignoring his suggestive wink. You wanted to congratulate her for the restraint.

And then another one had come and you were left alone in the bar, just like always. You were so stupid. Why had you come here? You weren’t exactly number one fan of bars. You just let Nicol tag you along, only to be abandoned. Every. Single. Time.

You finished your drink – the second one ever since your so called friend had left you – and considered taking off. You couldn’t see Nicol anywhere, probably because she was having a wild make-out session with the hot brunette no.2, and you were feeling a bit tipsy yourself – which was never a good state. One more drink and you might make a decision you would regret lately. Also, walking New York’s streets at night was bad enough itself; you didn’t need to add your drunken ass in the mix.

You slipped into your jacket and swung you tiny purse over your shoulder, making your way along the wall to avoid the people who had got encouraged by alcohol enough to start some sort of a dance.

“This isn’t funny at all,” you heard someone behind you complain in what was almost a whine. You rolled your eyes at the male voice and pulled your purse closer as you felt the man’s presence right behind you.

Yeah, getting mugged on top of all that, no, thank you. You quickened your pace, pushing past a girl who seemed to have more than enough; and you were not thinking alcohol. More like… you didn’t even want to know.

Nicol, I really hope your boy-toy is freakin’ worth it. You realized that you should shoot her a text at least – that you were heading to the apartment you two shared, for her to read when she wouldn’t be… busy. With that thought, you headed to your salvation – the exit.

It was when you heard him again, the guy almost sneaking behind you; his voice sounded differently now, more resigned than annoyed. Desperate even.

“Dammit!”

A strong hand gripped your arm and you choked on air as the man spun you around swiftly.

“Hey-“ you snapped at him – him being a hooded guy – your lungs gathering enough air to let out a scream.

“Please, play along.”

Those words shocked you, but you had no time to question them as you were suddenly backed against the wall, the stranger’s mouth on yours.

You gasped at the feeling, unintentionally parting your lips, only to meet his warm breath.

“Please,” he whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek and at the surprisingly tender gesture, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, your rapidly beating heart slowing down just a little.

Somehow, your brain was working one hundred percent – at least certain areas, while others were just too drunk to function. You had got the message – he possibly didn’t like the prospect of kissing you unexpectedly any more than you did and only did it because he was trying to get someone off of his back.

Your pulse wavered in fear and for a second you wanted to push him away – but then the memory of his soft apologizing tone hit you and you just couldn't do it. You suddenly didn't care why he needed to hide – whether it was a crazy clingy ex, a drunken friend or a drug cartel he owned money to. It didn't matter to you, as insane as that made you.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your bloodstream – or the fact that his lips felt very nice against yours, or the broad shoulders you had managed to notice during your super-fast panicked inspection of the stranger who had grabbed you. The lips didn’t seem to be close enough and neither did his body. You sneaked one hand around his waist, gasping when you felt the firmness of his muscles, unable to stop your hand from reaching a bit lower to what you expected to be a booty feeling just as firm. You were not disappointed and boy, if that sensation didn’t warm your belly in the most delicious way.

Your other hand slipped under the hood of his sweatshirt and you could feel him stiffen as he probably thought you were about to expose him. But you simply slid your fingers into his locks, earning a soft sigh from him. It apparently encouraged him to press his body closer to yours.

Now that was a believable make-out session for this kind of place and you would be damned if your evening just didn’t turn way better than you had expected. The man’s lips were still dancing with yours, slowing down, until there was just a ghost of a touch of them on yours, his fingers resting lightly against your cheek, while his other hand was on your hip.

When had he started touching your hip?

You were breathing heavily, attacked by his unobtrusive cologne that somehow felt vintage. You crossed out a low-life persona from your mental list of people who might have just kissed you, because someone who smelled this nice couldn’t be hanging out on the streets most of his days. Also, you couldn’t smell large amount of alcohol on him, which only supported your theory.

And wow, your brain was so busying itself with stuff that weren’t important.

You licked your lips, gulping. Well. Now should come the awkward part. You couldn’t make yourself open your eyes.

“So… are we good, Stranger?” you asked hoarsely, your throat too tight to allow you to speak clearly. You fought the urge to swallow again.

“Depends,” his equally rough voice caressed you and your fingertips tingled. Jeeez, girl, get a grip, god knows who this guy is- “Is there a white male, 5 feet 9 tall, dark hair, athletic built, wearing black t-shirt and jeans or a white male 6 feet 3 tall, blond, muscular, in dark blue t-shirt and jeans in sight?”  

Your heart jumped to your throat and your eyes snapped open at the first words he said. White male about 5 feet 9 tall, athletic built-? What kind of a person described people like that? What the hell did you get yourself into?

…not that you had been in it voluntarily. At least from the beginning, later on it was— shut up.

You raised your gaze from his neck – because he was just that tall – and let your eyes roam around the room, searching for the men he had just described. You had no clue, it was rather the way he had said those words than their actual meaning that got stuck in your brain, but you didn’t think you saw anyone who looked like that… and seemed especially intimidating on top of that, because you guessed that if a walking rock like this hooded stranger himself felt the need to hide…

“No, I don't think I see anyone who would match that description,” you whispered dutifully, fighting the urge to add ‘Sir’. He was just giving a vibe of a man you should be addressing ‘Sir’.

With your mouth dry, you looked up to the man’s face still partially hidden in the shadows of his hood.

Beautiful eyes met yours with unbearable intensity. You stomach clenched, but not uncomfortably. Oh boy, he was a looker; bright blue eyes, blond hair, ripped body… you realized you were still touching him – quite inappropriately – and let go of his shoulder and… bottom, yeah. Though it was as hard as if there were magnets between you, the sensation just way too pleasant under your fingertips only a moment ago.

He must have come to a certain conclusions hearing your strangled voice, because his gaze softened, allowing you to breathe in properly.

“I'm sorry for... throwing myself at you like this, Ma’am.” Here it comes. Ma’am. I really should have called him ‘Sir’. “I really am, I would never-“

You felt the tension building in your shoulders ease with the way he sounded; slightly embarrassed and... well, utterly adorable. This guy was a good guy, you decided. There was no way he was not on the side of the angels, not with the sincere apologetic eyes and the tone he spoke in.

Crazily enough – and you blamed the alcohol, really – it made you smile rather confidently.

“Hate to break it to you, but you did literally nothing that would require an apology.”

Even with the poor light and the hood, you would swear his cheeks flushed with a little red. It was so cute you would cry. Putting a respectful distance between the two of you – and you did not feel sorry for the loss of contact, not at all, that would be weird –, he cleared his throat.

“I’m— at least... may I buy you a drink as an apology, Ma’am?”

The Ma’am thing again. Had he been raised in a freaking castle? Military, you dumbass, maybe he is military-

“Uhm... o-okay,” you stuttered, completely forgetting you had decided to stop drinking for the night. It would be impolite to decline, right? Plus, after what just happened – or was still happening? – you could use a drink.

He gave you a bashful yet brilliant smile and your heart melted, your legs turning into an uncooperative mass of jello. Seeing your hesitation, he offered you a hand. It was an utterly sweet and chaste gesture – especially given how the two of you had been touching just few moments ago.

You found yourself staring at him as he led you to the bar. He seemed to grow now, holding himself like… well, like a military man, perhaps. The grey hoodie looked size too big around his middle, but was struggling in the higher area – his shoulders and arms were wrapped tightly and you could almost hear the fabric cry. His jeans were… wrapping his bottom pretty nicely, making your cheeks flush with the memory of touching it without any warning or permission. You quickly raised your eyes, afraid he might catch you staring if he turned to you unexpectedly.

Even when seating himself on a bar stool and catching the bartender’s attention, he left the hood on. He only let go of your hand when you were both sitting and the man behind the bar approached you. You ordered another margarita while he had a scotch. He paid for you both of course.

His body was slightly directed to you, remaining somewhat polite, but his eyes were rather on his drink, not meeting yours; until they did.

You almost fell of the stool as you were surprised by gaze staring right into your soul.

“I truly am sorry for assaulting you, Ma’am. But I would like you to know I’m very grateful for your cooperation,” he exclaimed, voice less measured than you would expect with the way he carried himself.

You felt burst of blood in your cheeks when he called the make-out session and your wandering hands a cooperation.

“It was no trouble… Sir.”

You could see the corners of his lips rise as he offered you his hand again, this time obviously to shake yours.

“My name is Steve.”

You accepted his hand, nodding, and sheepishly whispered your name back. You wanted to ask whom the hell he was running from, why he had picked you of all people around, who he was, but you couldn’t make yourself to do it. Possibly because you were well-aware of the fact he wouldn’t answer any of those questions.

Instead, you raised your glass, gesturing towards his. You had no idea what you should make a toast to, so you didn’t say anything, just attempted a tiny smile. Steve reciprocated it and sipped his scotch, only to put down the glass down a second later.

He sighed then, sounding a bit irritated. You studied him carefully, wondering what you had done to cause the change in his mood. He made a subtle motion towards his neck and you noticed his fingertips brushing his ear.

Your heart skipped a beat before it broke into a gallop. Jesus, was he... was he wearing an earpiece? Comms? Was he actually… some kind of a spy?! What the-

“I'm sorry. I have to go.”

“Oh,” you only let out intelligently as he downed the glass in one go. Christ. He stood up hastily.

“Thank you-- thank you again for your help, Ma’am. It was nice to meet you,” he said with a nervous smile and headed towards the exit abruptly.

He couldn’t see the quick smile you gave him as you followed him with your stare.

“Was my pleasure…”

He was almost by the door when a redhead woman, also in a hood, only worn lower, wrapped her arm around his shoulder with a grin. Now you were taken aback utterly, possibly even more than earlier that evening. What the hell?! Was this his girlfriend? Or-?

Even from the distance, you could see Steve’s lips mimicking a very clear 'shut up' at her and then the woman turned directly to you, met your eyes and gave you a playful wink.

You blushed harder and not just from alcohol. The strangest thing was that… the wink didn't scare you or made you feel guilty or something. The gesture wasn't saying 'that's my man, bitch', but more like a 'good job, sister, I hope you enjoyed'.

And then they were gone.

You hypnotized at the door long after they had left, your imagination running wild. For some reason, the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith came to your mind and you had to roll your eyes at the ridiculous picture of Steve and the woman being a married spy couple.

You returned to your drink and shook your head in silent wonder. The alcohol was starting to taste a bit funny on your tongue; just another indication it was time to finish your last drink and go home.

That was the plan anyway.

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Part 2

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​ 

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Thank you for reading! Tags always opened, just like my inbox and whatever ;)

[dinosaursmate]

Louis got home at seven on Friday night and fussed about the house. It had been so long since he had a friend over, that he obsessed over every little thing. Did the house smell nice? Should he hoover a second time? What temperature should the living room be?

Deep down, he knew none of that stuff really mattered. Their house was generally exceptionally clean, and Louis was under no illusion that their house wasn’t crazily impressive. Besides, Harry didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be so judgy.

He had to be a patient, kind sort of person. Not everybody would still want to be Louis’ friend after everything that had happened.

Louis arrived home on Saturday night laden with Tesco bags full of snacks, beer, and wine. He quickly put everything away, changed into some cosy sweats and turned off the plug-in air freshener. He couldn’t let it seem like he was making too much of an effort.

Harry arrived, and as soon as Louis opened the door, Harry’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“This place is so sick. How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Oh, only four.” Louis cleared his throat. “Want a tour?”

“Yeah!”

“Right, follow me.” Louis led him up the staircase. “So, the master bedroom and the biggest of the others have en suites, but only the main bathroom contains a bath.”

“‘Kay.”

“These two rooms here are the smaller bedrooms,” Louis said, opening the doors briefly for Harry to look in. “Surprisingly enough, these rooms don’t see a lot of traffic.”

“You don’t have a lot of people to stay?”

“Um… no.” Louis led him along to the next room. “This is the biggest guest bedroom, in here.”

Louis opened the door, and as soon as he did, he blushed. This was the room he had slept in on Friday night, and their housekeeper hadn’t been by since. Louis never made the bed very well, and in this case he had just shaken the duvet out.

“Looks like you’ve had at least one guest recently,” Harry said, grinning and pointing a thumb towards the bed.

Louis looked down at his feet. “Actually, um… I stayed in here on Thursday night.”

“Oh.” Harry inhaled sharply. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Louis sighed, shrugging. If Harry was going to be his friend, he might as well tell him the truth. “You wanna know what happened?”

Harry sort of shrugged as if he didn’t know what the correct answer was.

“Well,” Louis said, continuing anyway. “When I got back from the convention, he was super sorry about what happened and wanted to make it up to me by taking me to Cornwall this weekend. Just us. Come Thursday, he tells me-”

“He’s going to a YouTube thing in Truro?” Harry smiled sadly.

Louis laughed. “If that’s in Cornwall, then yeah. Like, I wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t try and pass it off as being a good guy. It was a proper dick move. I was furious.”

“Sorry,” Harry said quietly.

“It’s okay.” Louis sighed, stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. “Moving on… across here is the bathroom.”

Harry’s gasp when Louis opened the door made him jump. Louis had to admit, the bathroom was one of his favourite rooms. They had a huge bath, sunken down in a marble platform, with a double shower and two sinks. Gareth had been talking about seeing if he could get a skylight installed, although he failed to take into account the attic.

“I think this bathroom is bigger than my flat,” Harry remarked.

“Oh, I doubt it.”

Harry scoffed, stepping into the room and running his hand over the cool marble.

“It’s so nice.”

“Thanks,” Louis said. “Um, shall we move on?”

As Louis placed his hand on the door handle of his own bedroom, he paused. It felt a little bit like he was crossing a line, showing his and Gareth’s private bedroom to Harry. Still, he couldn’t very well back out now. It would look proper weird.

So Louis opened the door and stepped aside to show Harry the room. It was silent and warm, peaceful. If countless arguments had taken place in that room, there was no trace in the soft blue walls or in the plush grey carpet. Harry’s expression was gentle as he smiled, looking around.

“This is your room, I take it,” Harry said.

[bad-decision-roulette]

Fun with Bounties

"You know what I think? I think guilt twists folks all up inside." Dim yellow light filtered through the ice cubes in the girl's whisky. He voice was more silky now. Less bubbly. "Cept for the folks that are are already twisted that is. Guilt just slides right off them like soap on an oil slick. But you. They said you were a good man." She set the glass down on the man's bare thigh. He hissed a little as the cool glass met warm flesh with a bittersweet shock.

The man was tied to a bed. Naked, beaten. But he’d wanted that. He’d wanted her to tie him up. To bruise his flesh and call him all the dumbass chickenshit names in the world. Complicated relationship with his mother maybe. She didn't care. The former Sultansworn rose and the leather she wore creaked softly. "I think what you done twisted you up and you didn't know what to do. So you kept on twistin'." 

She set the lash down on the cheap wooden side table and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a case with maybe three poorly-rolled cigarettes and a match. Oh, and her trusty knifelock. She took out the case and opened it. Poorly-rolled or not they still smoked the same. L'miska plucked one of the uneven paper parcels and pinched it between her teeth, striking the match against the unvarnished nightstand to light it. The man on the bed followed the flame with his eyes. She held the match to her poor stump of a cigarette and inhaled, drawing the flame against the paper. Fragrant smoke filled her lungs. She stubbed out the match on his thigh.

Muffled screams from beneath the gag. Gods, she loved this gig!

The viper lifted the cigarette from her lips, blue-grey smoke chasing it as she exhaled. "I ain't one to judge. Coz bein' twisted's no crime. But what you did with it. What you did to them boys back in the Four Sisters. That was a crime." She reached for her whiskey, making sure to brush the lit cherry against the man's sallow skin. Leaving an ugly black streak of ash. "And to them girls in Drybone. Now that weren't technic'ly a crime, but I'm gonna count it anyroads." The man arched back, making what to her ears sounded like a hooting noise until she lifted the lit smoke away.

L’miska finished the drink. She dropped the glass carelessly on the cheap carpet. Sound of ice cubes spilling out. The glass didn't even crack. Fancy that. "Now I'm gonna give you a choice." She rested a knee on the bed and then lay beside the man, propping her elbow on his abused chest as she drew in another long drag of the cigarette and let it out through her nose. "You can do what a good man might do and go on and confess. Think you can do that? I got a linkpearl here that'll reach right to the Brass Blades themselves. All you gotta do is say it clear and they'll come pick you up." The man's eyes rolled crazily around the room before coming to rest on the small round device in the viper's hand. "Coz you wanna be a good man again." He sucked in rapid, frenzied breaths through his cloth gag, eyes wide and fixed on the pearl.

"Or I can stitch you up good and proper and houskeepers'll have something fun to tell the whole tavern tonight."

The man didn't answer. His eyes were fixed crazily on the object in L'miska's hand. "Guess that settles that. Now you be a good boy now. Just... tell 'em what you done." In one fluid motion she sat up. One leg curled beneath her. With the hand that still held the cigarette she reached to pull down the gag, holding the pearl near the man's mouth with the other.

"Help me! Help!" The man screamed into the object. "Help me she's--" 

With a sigh L'miska yanked the gag back into place. She ground out the cigarette on the man's stomach and reached for her knifelock. The man hollered beneath the gag, muscles straining against the ropes as he tried to crawl away from the pain.

"Guess you ain't a good man--" The viper stopped suddenly and leaned in to examine the pearl in her hand. "Well would ya look at that! All this time I thought this was a damned linkpearl. S' just some ordinary bead." She tossed the pearl over her shoulder and rose up over the man. He was breathing heavily now, eyes resuming their frenzied journey around the room. "This however. This here knifelock. I'm pretty sure that's real." 

The man didn't even get a chance to scream as the blade came down on his chest. She was gonna kill him anyroads. Still, didn’t hurt to have a little fun.

After all; when you love your job it’s like getting paid twice, right?

[the-voice-of-hell]

The Septagram

This is a first draft of a novel. Opinions welcome if they come from a reasonably kind place.  The final draft, whenever that happens, will have substantial editing of dialogue, but keep most events intact.  It will have some illustrations, and RPG rules for the setting in the back end, and probably sold cheaply through Amazon.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, Gore, Horror-themed Content, Some Cliché Positive Depiction of Cops that Could Understandably Be Taken as Copaganda, Bible Quotes, Depiction of Demons that Could be Offensive to Some Satanists, Strong Sexual Content, Some Depiction of Sexism, Racism, etc.

THE SEPTAGRAM

-Great American Satan

Grade 7

PART ONE:

THE HERALDS

          “The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up.

       And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire  was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood;

        And the third part of the creatures which were in the sea, and had life, died; and the third part of the ships were destroyed.

        And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;

    And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.

 …And I beheld, and heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound!”

                                             -Spoiled Brats Knocking

                                              Chess Pieces Off Tables

***

“Daddy, I don’t think we should have taken that road.”

“Aw Snookums, it’ll be fine.”

“But what about the murderers?”

“Don’t you trust the boys in blue to do their jobs, Honey?”

“You should’ve trusted their wisdom to not weasel your way around the roadblock.”

“Haha, ya got me there, kiddo.  Listen, we’re driving. Nobody can murder us if we’re pulling seventy sweet em’s pee aitch on these empty streets, right?”

“I guess...”

Jason Homme drove his daughter Maddy crazy sometimes, but they had a good reason to be heading into the locked down part of the state.  Jason’s brother Kevin and mother Susan were in an isolated city, secured by police, but mom was unwilling to leave.  Kevin figured if anyone could convince her to evacuate, it was Jason - in person.  He brought Maddy to alternate driving until they were in the safe zone.

“We can do this, Maddy.  You just gotta believe in your old man.  You believe in me, right?”

“I guess...”

“Whaaat?  Has Daddy’s Princess lost faith in the king?  Our kingdom will surely perish!  No one will be spared!  Only the pure heart of--”

“Knock it off, Daddy!  I believe in you.  God.”

“...And so the kingdom was saved.  Trust me Princess, we’re gonna be A-OK.”

The state of Washington had a great variety of local climates, partitioned by mountains, hills, and bodies of water.  The east of the state was a great plain with typical midwestern skies, bright and hot in the summer, grading into patchy forests here and there.  As the car climbed the hills along the winding little road, the forest grew more dense.

But something was wrong here and it quickly became apparent.  That haze turned out to not be morning mist after all.  It thickened into great waves of smoke.  A forest fire was out of control somewhere, and not far away.

“Oh,” cried Maddy, “This can’t be good.  We really shouldn’t have come this way!”

“Oh Baby, it’s just a little forest fire.  They happen every summer around here.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s no firemen around anymore?”

“Don’t worry your head.  We just get past this, get to your Gran and Uncle Kevin, and it’s smooth sailin’.  We’ll ride out of here with a veritable phalanx of Washington state’s finest.”

“OK, but go faster.”

They were already up to eighty.  At that rate, if they didn’t get in a crash they were going to hit the mountains in minutes.  The smoke thickened and thickened, white grey and then black.  The little road had no real outlets - just lumber trails and rural residential dead ends.  If they chickened out, they’d need to turn around and lose a hell of a lot of time.

Jason flexed his solid hands on the wheel, pricked up his alertness to its full height.  He didn’t look from side to side, unfocused to take advantage of the widest amount of his peripheral view for motion and danger.  They drove into the smoke like driving from day into night.

He couldn’t help but reduce his speed, nervous of falling trees and the possibility he’d have to brake for a wall of flames.  Still, he was brave enough to do sixtyish.  Maddy was in the middle of the back seat, one hand gripping each of the front seats, trying to get the fullest view of the road - as if that would protect her.  They were sweating bullets.

Orange lights gleamed in the dark. Sparks raced across the road and disappeared behind them.  And then they saw the flames.  It was so quick at that speed - one second in relative darkness, another in the sparking zone, one more and there was a wall of fire.  Two walls of fire, left and right.  The flames nearly formed an arc over the road.  Maddy started to scream.

“FASTER, DADDY, FASTER!”

“I’M GOIN’, BABY!  I’M GOIN’!”

The road curved too sharply for their speed.  He skidded through the gravel, rode the guard rail like a demolition derby devil, got back on concrete after torturous moments.  Was their car already on fire?  They bored through hell like a power drill.

And then it passed.  The black disappeared, leaving them in grey-white smoke again, ash whipping in the wind like dust devils.  They had rounded the curve of a hill, whose steep sides were bare enough of grass to form an outer limit for the demonic flames.

“See, Snookums?  We did it!  Easy as pie.”

“Daddy!” She practically cried and punched him in the shoulder.

“Seriously, hon.  It’s gonna be fine, I’m for real about this.  Faith.”

She collapsed into her seat.  “I believe in you, Daddy.  I do.”

They finally got far enough from the thick of the smoke that Jason dared to roll to a stop and check to see if the roof was on fire.  As he got out, Maddy remembered the reason for the blockades and looked about crazily.

Murder clubs.  The concept was chilling.  Everyone knew that some people are just rotten and bad, like serial killers and their ilk.  Nobody guessed that there were enough to form cult-like groups and plot mass-murders for fun.  But they made the mistake of focusing their efforts in one geographic location, which let the government contain them with a little old fashioned martial law.

Martial law that they’d broken to get in here.  Maddy didn’t know what to expect.  Would they look like those internet losers, mad they couldn’t get laid?  Would they have lots of guns?  The stories said they preferred to use machetes and axes.  She shuddered and almost cried out for her father again, but he got in the car and spared her nerves.

“Just a lil’ sooty up there.  Guess I’ll be visiting a body shop when we get back to Yakima.  Unless you think they still have service in the safe zone...”

“Just drive, Daddy, please!”

“I’m drivin’, I’m drivin’!  Your wish is my command, Princess.”

***

Iphigenia Wallace washed her hands in the sink.  She was pretty sure she’d killed a few of them.  Those men.  Not that it was a sin, but she wished she could know for sure.  Had the one died when she smashed his head with a brick?  Had the other two died when she ran them over in a stolen Dodge Charger?  She didn’t know and it made her nervous.

The world had gone to hell and her family with it.  Those murder creeps started killing people in the night and the government overreacted with martial law, roadblocks.  But that only served to trap people in an area with an army of homicidal bastards and inadequate infrastructure.  Communication blackouts aimed at keeping them from coordinating by cell made it so no one could talk with their families and friends.

Ippy was one of those confused people, scrambling to find out - of her friends and family, who made it out?  Who was still in danger?  But she had worse luck than average.  Her mom and younger brothers and sisters all lived in Lakewood, which had been hit badly by the murder clubs.  The clubs had members in the military at Fort Lewis.  She found her family in their home.  They never had a chance to flee.

Then she sought out her best friends, in Fern Hill and South Tacoma..  Candy and Yvonne were both nowhere to be found, with apartments showing clear signs of breaking and entry.  She didn’t have any choice but to stop searching for them.  They could have been anywhere.  She realized, looking at the scratched and corroded bathroom mirror, that she’d always filled her life with routines, filled her thoughts with friends and family - and that meant her head was emptying out at an alarming pace.  What would she find when she didn’t have anything or anyone left to think about?

There was still Elijah.  Elijah had been her first boyfriend in junior high, but grew up to be more of a gay best friend.  He was living in Hilltop.  Her desperate search for the last traces of herself was narrowing in on Tacoma like a noose.

“Elijah... Be alive.”

She was dark, barely visible in the feeble light.  But her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw a person in there.  Who is she?  She put a thin reedy hand on the mirror then jumped back in shock.

What she had taken for a rust spot on the mirror sprang to life - a tiny bat startled by the vibration of her fingertips on the glass.  It flapped and shrieked, knocking Ippy on her ass with its outsized personality before getting lost inside the space above the toilet stalls.

She turned and got to her feet in a hurry, hustling out of the beast’s filthy little kingdom.  A little routine popped into her mind, made her feel like a human again - the annoyance that her freshly cleaned hands had just touched the bathroom floor and needed to be washed again.

Outside the bathroom she was in a gas station parking lot, cheap businesses on one side of the street, a string of forested lots on the other.  A car sped by, then an SUV.  It screeched to a stop and backed up for her.  She steeled herself for action.

The window was down and a Samoan lady hung her arm out the window in a peaceful gesture.  “Hey!  You wanna come to our church?  It’s safe there.  We have a lot of guns.”

“Uh... No thanks.  But can I get a ride to Hilltop?”

The guy at the wheel bitched, “I ain’t driving to fuckin’ Hilltop.”

The lady turned to him, “Why not you lazy bitch?”

“It’s too dangerous.  Forget it.”

Ippy waved the lady off.  “It’s OK.  I got a car, just thought it would be safer in company.  I’ll be fine.”

“Mm, OK.  Whatchu got for a weapon, Honey?”

She shrugged, then hoisted the hammer.  It was a slim profile claw hammer with a recurved long yellow plastic handle and black rubber grips, with serration inside the claw side.  She’d just picked it up from a house that had been abandoned in the middle of renovation.  “How about this?”

The Samoan grinned a gold tooth, her eyes disappearing into pleasant black crescents.  “I love it.  Have a nice trip!”  The man drove her away.

Iphigenia decided going unseen as little as possible was the ideal and went into the forested lots.  Someone peeked out of the dumpster at the gas station, watched her go.  He picked his way out of the noisy hiding spot with preternatural stealth and set his sneakered foot to concrete.  He padded across the bare street behind her, exaggerated spring in his tiptoes, looking like a cartoon burglar.  As he began to scale the forested hill behind her, his fingers slapped the wet bark - skin as moist and green as banana slugs.

***

Hilltop, crown jewel of Tacoma.  Well, crown at any rate.  Tacoma was an extremely sprawled, mostly one and two story grey smear on the southeast side of Puget Sound.  The sprawl was a motley of lesser cities that had been incorporated over the centuries in a cement of cheap hideous houses and strip malls.  The real Tacoma at its center was a port city next to a massive hill.  “Downtown” was the mix of mint-condition antique brick buildings and gleaming new development sloping down to the water.  But the real heart of Tacoma was the peak of that hill - blocks and blocks of impoverished single-family homes - weathered, cheaply built and long overdue for demolition.  Everybody from Olympia to Seattle knew about Hilltop - much more than knew about the Tacoma Art Museum.

It wasn’t the most easily defended piece of real estate, despite the high ground.  But people insisted on having more breathing room, access to their own bathrooms.  Nobody wanted to move into the hospital tower, which Detective Park and his irregulars could defend more easily - snipers watching anything within a mile of the place.  Park settled for gathering people in that crusty old neighborhood, keeping a weather eye through elaborately planned and executed patrol patterns and radio communication.

“Something is interfering with radio in the southeast.  Patrols there aren’t always getting through.”  Park was discussing strategy with the other commanding officers.  They were such a mixed bag of cops, soldiers, and volunteers that they decided to forgo normal chain of command and voted him chief of operations, but he still operated in a loose council - rarely made a call without consulting the other ranking officers.

“I can confirm that,” Officer Coffey said.  He was in charge of the civilian contingent - a high ranked security guard and army vet.  “I couldn’t get a signal on my patrol.  My guys couldn’t either.”

“It has to be the power lines.  We could try calling in closer.  Patrols there get word to the middle blocks, they relay to command.  If it works, make that part of protocol.”  Colonel James was active Army from the fort and should have been in charge, he was less assertive from a sense of shame.  Some of his men had turned out to be members of murder clubs.

“It probably won’t work.”  First Lieutenant Alameda was Air Force.  “We just have to do it analog - make the patrols quick so we can get word of mouth intel.”

“Mmm… something more than that,” Park said.  “Let’s make sure everyone who patrols there has a noisemaker.  Something they can use to get a warning out quick, without wasting ammo.  Ideas?”

Sergeant Infante was the only other guy from Tacoma PD.  “I think I know where I can scrounge up some air horns.”

“Make it happen, Infante.  Thanks.”   Park smiled at him.  That guy was top notch.  Not just another gun bunny looking for an excuse, despite being SWAT.  “Any more word from Homeland Security?  This holding pattern is the pits.”

“Just maintain,” Coffey said.  “Three commands didn’t check in this morning.  Auburn, Des Moines, and Beacon Hill.”

“Mm, I don’t like that.  They’re spread out, but still close enough it makes me wonder if they got hit by something.”

“SeaTac is close to all that, they report status normal.  Still taking evacuees, no hostile activity.”

Park pushed the meat of his forehead around.  “Can we spare anyone with a motorcycle to check on Des Moines?  That has the least cover en route, minimum ambush potential.”

Alameda said, “My secretary is always bragging on her bike.  She lives downtown, too.  It’s available.”

“Great.  Thank you.  Gentlemen.”  He nodded to dismiss the meeting and people broke into smaller groups to discuss needed details before returning to their respective commands.

Park followed Infante out of the tent, slapping him on the shoulder.  “Hey buddy.  Where are we shopping?  Archie McPhee’s is up in Wallingford.”

“Haha.  There’s an auto parts downhill.  I’ve seen ‘em there, at least a few.  Should be enough to equip patrols if they hand off.”

“Good man.”

Infante, appropriately, had a babyish face.  His pleasant, sensitive expression made him look all the younger.  “Not to be rude Detective, but don’t you have another duty?  We’re spread pretty thin up here.”

“I have a few.  Might as well get in my cardio instead of sitting on my duff up here.”  Park hoped he didn’t come off weird.  He was just glad to be hanging out with a fellow policeman.  The irregulars were good guys, but it was tense dealing with them.  If the Colonel decided to pull rank at any point, who knew where Park would end up?  “Besides.  I’d rather be with Tacoma PD any time.”

“Thanks, boss.”

They ambled along the cracked and mossy streets.  Some civilians were chilling on their lawns, glad for the time off work, whatever the situation.  They had to be told not to run barbecues and dads with invisible aprons glared at the cops as they passed.  Park was over six feet tall, broad-shouldered in a business casual and a shoulder holster.  Infante was just under six feet, his jarhead hairstyle and bulky SWAT uniform making his head look a bit small for his body.  His skin had a pleasant reddish tone, Park was like a sun-shy mushroom of a man, though his forearms and upper face were starting to get a light chestnut burnish from tromping around under summer skies.

“We don’t get much time to socialize on this duty.  How do you like SWAT?  Pretty new, right?”

“A few years here.  I didn’t see you much either.”

“Yeah.  So how about it?”

“We get all the toys, you know?”

“True…  Don’t take it wrong, but I don’t like guns as much as I did before I made gold.  This stuff going on… What if these assholes didn’t have easy access?”

“Eh, you and I both know we can’t what if.  It isn’t in the job description.”

“Yeah.  Well, it’s good to know there’s well-armed good guys.  I’m really glad we have you.”

“I just wish the rest of the squad was still around.  How could they just evacuate like that?  We got a job to do.”

“Only two detectives stayed.  SWAT had a better ratio.”

“Just me out of twelve.  That’s ate up sir.”

“That’s a big 10-4, Sergeant.  Heh.”

They could hardly talk as they staggered down a very steep stretch of hill.  The street there was cobblestone, quite randomly and at odds with the local architecture.  Then they came down to a comparatively level cross street and turned the corner.

The city was largely abandoned.  Foolish vagrants stuck around for primo looting and could still be seen wandering the streets sometimes, but there weren’t any within line of sight.  The police were quite alone.

Park saw a trickle of sweat at the back of Infante’s neck - a sign of humanity in the perfect soldier boy.  He didn’t know why it brought a smile to his face, not really.  “This isn’t the worst duty to draw, given the circumstances.”

Infante wheeled on him, shocked.  “Excuse me, sir?  We aren’t exactly neck deep in alligators, but this is fucked up.  Some of those psychos were Army and we’re working with Army right now.  And as far as we know, the murderers are all in plainclothes.  They could be anyone, come from anywhere.  This detail sucks balls, sir.”

“I’m sorry, brother.”

“It sucks balls.”

“I really am sorry.  I don’t wanna make light of anyone’s … travail, whatever.  I’ll be glad when we get these people out of the lockdown too.  I don’t know what to say.  What do you have to say about it?”

“About what?”

“About… them.  The murder clubs.”

“Pure evil, straight out of hell.  When we get everyone to safety, I’m gonna come back and send them all where they belong.”

“I bet you will.  Good man.”

Park didn’t like hearing him talk about killing.  It was an interest in killing that brought the creeps together in the first place.  He knew Infante’s mindset was fundamentally different, but it still made him sad.  They stepped into the auto part store through the already broken window and collected their prize.

***

Jason and Maddy weren’t about wasting time.  The forest roads didn’t feel safe - too many places for murder clubs to hide.  So they drove as fast as they dared.  Maddy took the wheel and Jason kept an eye out for trouble and turns.  They came out of the mountains into a cow town, then headed north through heavily wooded suburbs before turning west.  That street would take them into and out of the Green River valley and up to Interstate 5.

They descended into a cleft in the hill face, surrounded by tall dark evergreens, then burst out into the valley.  More dairy farms, but corporate parks and car dealerships too.  It was the flat nothing between Auburn and Kent.  The open space, empty of people and cars, was uncanny.  But to Maddy, who had been imagining attacks from the tree line for the last hour, it was a relief.  She unconsciously eased off the gas pedal and they slowed to forty-five.

“Perfect.  It’s been a while but I recognize all of this,” her dad said.

“And you’re sure 99 is going to get us to Beacon Hill faster?”

“Princess, look at the time we’re making.  We’ll be there before you know--”

His words fell away as he tried to comprehend the thing that was rising from the small stand of trees at the side of the road.  It was like a human arm, somehow grown longer - twenty feet for the upper arm, twenty feet for the lower, and patterned like a dairy cow.  It touched the street in front of them and they crashed into it.

Glass spider webbed and erupted with cutting little chunks.  Sparks flew.  Airbags exploded in their faces.  They whipped in circles before smashing through the guard rail and splashing in a wet ditch with intense force.

Jason woke up to his daughter shaking his head and shoulders around.  Maybe not the recommended first aid after a car crash, but he wasn’t able to think clearly enough to advise against it.  He licked blood from the corner of his mouth.

“DADDY DADDY WAKE UP!”

“Princess?  It’s OK, it’s fine, Baby.”

“You need to-” she sobbed “-g-get out of the car!”

“Sure thing, whatever you want, kiddo.”

Maddy took his manly arm in both of her scrawny paws and jerked uselessly.  He tugged his arm back gently.

“C’mon, hon.  Just let me do it.”

“O-oh OK.  OK, fine.”  She threw her hands up, stepped a few feet away, and slumped against a muddy embankment.

Jason tried opening the car door, then failing that he repositioned himself to force it.  He was a not atypical man, a little under six foot and two hundred twenty pounds, formerly a bit athletic.  But all his limbs felt leaden and clumsy.  He just kept moving until he took in enough air to decompress his ribs, start to revive.  She couldn’t watch for long, just taking short tearful glances at him and trying less successfully to get control of her own breathing.

He finally pushed the door open and staggered out, then leaned back against the car.  His feet were in ten inches of muddy water.  Or was it watery mud?  “See, snookums?  I’m right as rain.”

“Oh Daddy!”  She came in for a hug and he accepted it.

Probably no broken ribs, he thought.  Then he remembered something else.  “Uh, sweetie, did you happen to see the… tree that hit us?”

“Oh god!”  It looked like she was just remembering as well.  She broke from the hug and clambered up onto the street.

He followed, more slowly.  “Uh… Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing!  Noth-”

“Princess?”

“Oh!  There’s blood!  Oh no...”

He finally got up onto the concrete and came up behind her to lend moral support.  He saw the blood spray on the road.  Looked like what you’d expect from a very small animal - a squirrel, rabbit, rat, that sort of thing.  And there was no other remains in sight, so perhaps it was something small that got flung out of the road at that.  He couldn’t figure it.  “It’s nothing Honey.  Let’s just get walkin’.  We can probably find a car to borrow in one of these houses.”

“We should keep walking for a while, get away from here.  I don’t trust these houses.”  Maddy looked at the side of the road the thing had come from.  The sky looked above it was in a red haze almost, like a field full of cows kicking up their own manure - but no cows in sight.  She trembled.

“Alright, Baby.  Let’s shake a leg, OK?”

***

Iphigenia had lied about having a car.  She crashed the charger after killing those murderers.  She was driving crazy, worried she was being chased.  She did tend to feel safer on foot because it was easier to hide and harder to get truly boxed in.  She could escape killers in cars by just running where they couldn’t.

Why had she lied?  Just to end the conversation, allay the lady’s concern.  Maybe the hammer had helped in that respect.  She didn’t think much of it at the time she picked it up, but it was very handy - not just for impressing women.  The wooded lots were on a steep hill - one of the bumps that eventually added up to Hilltop many miles away - and she had taken to hooking the trunks with the tool as a climbing aid.

Ippy came out on a paved residential street, part of a good long stretch of pure suburbia.  Two story houses with lawns and everything.  Before the evacuation there would have been more cars in the driveways and on street curbs, but the people took their best cars and locked up the leftovers tight in garages.  Aside from that and the relative silence, the neighborhood really didn’t look any different from how it normally would be.  She walked between blocks in the middles of streets, cut through lawns, kept an eye out for useful stuff to borrow.

She was cutting across a lawn and randomly decided to go under a set of swings rather than walk around it.  She hooked the hammer claw on the bar for no particular reason and swung from it.  Her feet were still touching the grass, but as she let the bar carry her weight, she spun in a half circle.  That’s when she saw it.

Just for a moment she saw a greenish human shape duck behind a fence.  It had been looking her way.  Following.  Hunting?  Well Green Man, let’s go.  Ippy very quickly switched directions and headed straight back the other way.  Was it watching her that moment?  She heard its footsteps as it began to run, and kept pace, leaping a small fence and rounding a corner onto the sidewalk for an open chase.

It was dressed like a man, but had its lower arms and the back of its neck visible, and looked some kind of slimy green color.  Ippy had no idea what to make of that, but didn’t want to let it get away, just to stalk her again or go get its friends.  And she was faster.

It slowed just a moment to round another corner and she caught up, swinging the hammer into its shoulder, sending it flipping onto the ground.  It looked like a murder clubber - young, acned, male, nondescript clothes, camouflage army cap.  But his skin had all turned green and slimy-looking.  His ears were nearly inhumanly large, nose bulbous, mouth too wide and groaning through needle-like teeth.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She asked him, but wasn’t expecting a response - was too lost in confused thoughts and feelings.

“Whaddya mean, bitch?  You think we care if we live of die?  It’s--”

She silenced him by swinging the hammer within an inch of his mouth.

“I mean why do you look like that?  Why are you a goblin?”

“Stuck-up bitch, think you’re too good.  You’re prey.  We’ll--”

She dropped the hammer’s head into his guts, forcing his last syllable to dissipate into a wheeze.  “My curiosity is running out.”  She was trying to be coldly threatening, but she thought about these cruddy little fuckers and she thought about her family and her face went hot, her hands began to shake.  To still them, she gripped the hammer harder, then found herself raising it without any conscious thought, swinging it down.

“AUGH!  AUGH!  AAAA!”  He tried to block the blows but they just destroyed his hands before destroying the rest of him - he only prolonged his suffering.

His blood was green.  Guess that’d do that to one’s complexion.

***

    NEXT

    -

[itshaejinju]

Sick Baby | Baby Kari (oc) x Papa!Cor | Fluff

This cute thought came to mind earlier and I really wanted to write it, so much that I did it on my phone which is abnormal for me to write a fic on my phone. The OC belongs to @themissimmortal her name is Karina - Kari for short. ---- Fluff for Moosh! 💕💕 Baby!Kari x Papa!Cor Cor was at a loss, he really was as the small two year old in front of him was suffering from a bad cold, her little nose red and puffy from sneezing like crazy. He thought at first it was just allergies as she was not looking too bad. Though when they came back from their morning run pulling her out of the jogger-stroller her adorable little face was puffy and she had a strong runny nose. "Oh little Kari..." Cor said as she let out a pathetic sneeze, she started to cry loudly as tears sprung from her big blue eyes staring at him. The sad little look on her round cheeks melted Cor's heart, she looked so cute even when she was sick. Her chubby hands reaching out to him as she coughed, unsnapping her from the stroller Cor pulled his baby to his chest holding her close to his chest. Patting her back gently he moved to the bathroom to the medicine cabinet pulling out the thermometer. "Da-da." Kari cried out as he propped her on his left hip reaching for the baby asprin. "I know sweetie, I wonder where you got that cold from perhaps when we on that excursion with Clarus yesterday? You being a little trooper and dealing with it. Making daddy proud." Cor said as he placed the thermometer on the setting on armpit, placing it there she sneezed on the side of Cor's face. She giggled as saw the disgusted look on Cor's face as he felt snot drop down his face. All he could think of that at least it's not vomit. Looking at the tiny monitor as Kari grabbed at the thermometer as he read the screen a low grade fever. "Poor baby that's high, how about some pudding and take this medicine for me?" He questioned his little daughter. Being her young age even though she was quite smart she still didn't quite understand what her father had to say. He grabbed a tissue from the box clearing up use nose first having her blow into it, she started to cough afterwards. Patting her back gently he cleaned up his face heading to the kitchen trying to ease her coughing as the fit was getting crazy. As he opened the fridge pulling out a chocolate pudding, Kari burped then vomited on Cor, right over his shoulder down his grey tank top he was wearing. Letting out a exhausted sigh Cor looked over at his sick daughter who had bits of vomit in on her chin, her tears started again. Her crying was loud in his ears as she started wailing crazily. He hugged her to him after he cleaned her and himself up. Sitting her on the counter Cor opened the pudding cup taking a small spoon placing the baby aspirin mixed in with it. "Open wide sweetie~." Cor called out in a sweet baby voice tone to her, trying to calm her down and get her to take the meds then sleep. Kari kept fussing batting away the spoon crying and fussing in her pain. Cor felt bad for his daughter as she was in so much pain and this was the only thing he had to make her feel better. Little Kari was not one for her medicine she always fought him on it generally going for the pill in the pudding trick. But he guessed this time was not going to work. "Come on Kari sweet just one bite for daddy?" Cor asked after ten tries wearing more of the pudding than anything. He was feeling desperate now as she was coughing, sneezing and crying. She let out a wail waving her little fist around in frustration with a quick move Cor placed the last bit of chocolate pudding in his daughters mouth. She swallowed it Cor let out a relieved sigh as he took her in his arms placing kisses on her head patting her back praising her. "Not so bad right sweetie?" Cor asked as he brought her to the couch hugging her close as they curled up together. Cleaning her up from her running nose, rubbing her back Cor started to hum a lullaby to her. Soon the whines started to calm down and Kari snuggled onto Cor's chest gripping gently on the tank top. She was so adorable sleeping like that even with some snot dripping from her tiny nose, her mouth open from her blocked nasal passage. Smoothing her hair back some placing a kiss to her forehead as he started to doze off himself. @blindbae @stunninglyignis @diadyn @waifuthewhite @sheylann @roses-and-oceans @fieryfantasy @chocobabyporcelain @promptoastandbutter @misssarahdoll @mandakatt @mistressoli @highwinds-dragoon @xnoctits @insomniascure @lady-asuka @thirsty-angst-lord @zacklover24 @alicemoonwonderland @neko-otaku13 @rubyphilomela @insomniacapples @insomniasix @blondechocobobutt @cupnoodle-queen

[restlessmaknae]

Disastrous [pt.6]

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

Genre: fluff, comedy, romcom

Main Characters: Kim Namjoon; Gu Dasom (OC)

Setting: holiday AU; friends to lovers AU

I knew that this holiday will be difficult with Namjoon by my side but I never thought that it would be this difficult.

An arranged holiday with my best friend to a breath-taking island? What could actually go wrong? In my case, the question is, what didn’t go wrong?

The next hours were spent with walking back to the bus station. The distance was long, so it took us 5 hours to get there. Namjoon said that we could have gone faster if the weather hadn’t been so hot and it hadn’t been around midday. I sometimes really felt like I could faint because as I’ve mentioned, we had no food, nor water. Luckily, we found a fountain on our way where we could drink a little but because we didn’t have money, we couldn’t even dream about buying anything. It was so humiliating. I didn’t have any kind of headwear, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had gotten sunstroke. Namjoon also felt a bit dizzy but he always felt it as his priority to encourage me to keep going.

I was never keen on walking or hiking or any kind of those outdoor physical activities but after our 5-hour journey, I hated even the idea of moving my pinkie for the next few hours. I’d never been more tired in my whole life and I immediately sat down on the ground when we got back my best friend’s backpack. I was just so exhausted. So, so exhausted.

“Ah, I’m so happy it’s over!” I blurted without much thinking and took a big sip of the water bottle. It felt incredibly good as my throat had been dry for hours.

Namjoon also let himself slide down to sit on the ground beside me. I voluntarily leaned onto his shoulder while he slung his arms around mine. It was beyond reassuring, it was almost like heaven. I could pacify my crazily beating heart and wildly rumbling thoughts by then, so I could finally feel at ease. He was beside me, I was beside him and nothing ever seemed more perfect than that.

“I feel like I could eat a cow right now,” I murmured out a jumble of words and earned an ethereal chortle from Namjoon.

“We don’t have enough money to buy you a cow,” he said in between laughs but I just playfully smacked him in the chest.

“Yah! Don’t make me sad, Namjoon!” I pouted like a little girl and it made him laugh even more. I adored watching him laugh because I never considered myself a funny girl and he still had a fun time beside me. I was kind of proud of that.

“I don’t want to but that’s the truth.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll pay for your dinner. Deal?” he raised his eyebrows in question when I withdrew. I knew he wanted to compensate me for losing his bag and making me super worried throughout the day, so I gave in. I didn’t want him to feel worse.

“Deal,” I nodded as excitedly as I could but I must have looked like a runner after completing the marathon. My hair was more like a bird nest and my face was all red thanks to the heat. My clothes were covered in sweat and I was happy if I could walk back safely to our accommodation on my feet.

We just sat there for God knows how long before we decided to find a cosy and fairly cheap restaurant to eat something. I was never really fond of hamburgers but when I saw that it was on the menu, I didn’t hesitate to order one. A really big one. I was hungry and my stomach was growling again and again, its weird noises an urging for me to get some food. Namjoon chose the same and we were munching away on our hamburgers without saying a single word out loud. We desperately needed those extra calories.

Due to the fact that it was already 5 o’ clock and we were hardly in a condition to continue our sight-seeing tour, we headed back to the guest house. I was never happier to see those dull, white walls and familiar bunk-bed than that particular night. I realised that a lot of mishaps occurred during our holiday and our room wasn’t even the worst of them.

“Can I sleep now?” I sneaked a glance at Namjoon like I needed his permission to go to bed. He looked at me dearly and pinched my cheeks. If the hot weather didn’t make them heat up a bit, his touch definitely did.

“Of course you can. We had quite a rough day, so you deserve a good night’s sleep,” he nodded and pointed to the bottom mattress. I hopped down without hesitation but before I fell onto the quilt, I made sure that I grabbed his wrist and pulled him with me. It didn’t take him by surprise, thus he didn’t even protest.

I wanted to doze off against his shoulder because I didn’t really remember the last time when we slept like that. We were best friends for 15 years now but our friendship started just like any other; totally unexpectedly. We encountered at a playground in Goyang and made a pinky promise that we will be together until the end. It all started with silly things that 6-year-old kids do; killing our time at the playground, sharing our toys with each other, talking about our favourite animated shows and playing hide and seek in our garden.

We weren’t neighbours but we spent a lot of time together and the more we grew, the more we needed each other’s company. I remember vividly that I always shared my fears with him while we were looking at the stars from the terrace of his room. He listened to me patiently and waited until I didn’t have anything else to say. Then, he rubbed his chin, tilted his head in contemplation and started talking about solutions how I should be more confident and face those obstacles. I never knew how that 6-year-old immature guy with the grey braces turned into a wise, philosophical teenager but he definitely changed. Puberty hit him so hard – or me, I don’t know – that I started seeing him as a man and not a boy. But soon, I felt the same way about my male classmates as well and that thought never flew across my mind again until 2 months ago.

“You know it’s funny,” Namjoon whispered as I rested my head on his shoulder. This silence wasn’t like the one before; it was serene and soft like a cloud hovering on the clear-blue sky.

“What?”

“I saw a lot of sides of you in the last 15 years but you never fail to show me new sides since we started our journey,” his hushed voice was full of awe and I didn’t really know why. I was pretty sure that witnessing how I had acted in the last couple of days was nothing but troublesome. I was whining, I was yelling at him and I was screaming because of a giant spider. What could have been so pleasant about that?

“Is that a good thing?” I glared at him, not sure what kind of answer I would get. His serious expression slowly dissolved into a nostalgic smile.

“Yes, it is. You are my best friend and it’s such a pity that we can’t spend as much time together as we used to since we started university. I guess that’s why I felt like we slowly drifted apart in the last couple of years. You know, there was school, assignments, new friends and you had Hyeonuk as well−” he suddenly confessed and I couldn’t help but flinch painfully at the mention of my ex-boyfriend.

I met Heyonuk 2 years ago at a college party and we had been a couple for 23 months when he said that he wanted to break up. That asshole. I inwardly cursed myself for ever trusting that guy, even though he was such a sweetheart until he announced that it was over.

“You felt like we drifted apart because of Hyeonuk?” I asked, almost frantically because I’d never thought that Namjoon would feel like I had chosen my boyfriend over him. He wasn’t jealous, he seemed to get along well with Hyeonuk when I was around, so he didn’t show any sign of jealousy. Or he was a really impressive actor.

“Yes, a little bit,” he admitted without hesitation. He didn’t seem nervous, he didn’t even nibble his lips but the dimples deepened with his smile. He wasn’t mad and I admired him for his understanding. It was one of the things on the endless list of what I loved about him. “But I don’t blame you. If you’re in love, you have to spend more time with your boyfriend than with your best friend.”

“That’s not true,” I shook my head immediately because I learned from my parents that you shouldn’t neglect your friends and family even if you are in love. “You should have told me if it really irritated you.”

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” he waved his hands in an attempt to leave the subject and move on. “Hyeonuk doesn’t know what he missed when he said that you’re too dull and worthless for him,” he quoted the exact same words that my boyfriend had told me two months ago and even flinched like he was hurt.

He was the one who scooped me up after Hyeonuk said goodbye and that’s when I started developing feelings for him. Seeing how he cared about me and cursed at my ex-boyfriend made me feel touched. He never acted like that before when my relationships ended but that’s also true that none of my relationship were as long yet painful as the one with Hyeonuk.

“That douchebag,” I snorted furiously but my expression suddenly changed when I heard my best friend’s reaction. I couldn’t suppress the urge to smile as widely as possible.

“That crazy bastard,” he spluttered the words dismissively and when we met each other’s gazes, we broke into little fists of laughter. That made me remember for the good old days when it was so usual that we dissed my ex-boyfriends and his ex-girlfriends like that. The thought that we were getting closer and closer again melted my heart a bit.

We were talking for an hour or so and I wish we could speak more but I had already stifled a yawn like 12 times and when he noticed my sleepy eyes, he turned off the lights and walked up on the ladder. When I heard that he arrived on his mattress, I whispered to him like we always did when we had a sleepover at each other’s houses.

“Good night, Namjoonie.”

“Good night, Dasomie.”

His deep, hoarse voice was the sweetest melody that could cherish me to sleep.