#//she says as she slaps wings on everything at any given opportunity//

[arkarti]

Monstober day 06: Wings

Twitter: x

[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.” 

[minachuuu]

When The Lights Go Out

❣When The Lights Go Out❣

❤ Pairing: Gahyeon x Fem!Reader

❤ Genre: Suggestive & Fluff

❤ Word Count: 5.1k

❤ Song Suggestions: Daybreak by DreamCatcher & Squeeze by Fifth Harmony

“Hey Y/n!” The door swung open, forcing you and Gahyeon to jerk apart your hovering lips. Yoohyeon, followed by the rest of the DreamCatcher girls entered the green room from the venue of the show both your group and your girlfriend’s were going to perform at. “Long time no see!”

It’s not like the rest of her group don’t know that you two are dating, you never tried keeping it a secret. And even if you wanted, it was almost impossible to keep something hidden from them. 

DreamCatcher was one of the closest groups you have ever met, they dropped and picked up Gahyeon from all your dates even before you two were official. It was also important for her that you met all of them beforehand. 

You remember that day pretty vividly. It was a little nerve racking, the thought of meeting all these powerful girls that were her older sisters, of course they’re watching over her. You do the same with the maknae of your group, so you understand where that came from. But luckily for you, they all loved you. Putting aside all the joking threats, or at least you hope they were jokes, of taking care of Gahyeon, you actually became pretty close with all of them.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. But you would be lying if you said that sometimes you wish they weren’t around all the time.

“Hey Yoohyeon!” You waved with your free hand as you wrapped the other around your girlfriend, she sheepishly cuddling into your shoulder. “Hi girls!”

“Did we interrupt something?” Handong chuckled as her gentle eyes laid over you both. 

“No, not really,” You responded while shaking your head, bringing Gahyeon closer to you with your arm as she chuckled in your neck. “We were just talking-”

“Really? Wow, how boring.” SuA scoffed at us, sitting besides me as she took out her phone. “If I were you and I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in so long I would just ea-”

“Unnie!” Gahyeon reached and jokingly punched SuA away. 

“What?! I’m just saying the truth!” She defended herself, trapping you in between of a bickering battle. “We’ve all been busy with comebacks and don’t pretend you weren’t all ‘Aw, I miss my Y/N!’ every single day for you two to be all ‘We’re only talking’ Gahyeon-ah! Especially when Y/n is dressed like that!”

Red rushed up to your cheeks as your eyes scanned your body from head to toe. Thanks to your comeback, you embarked on your usual ‘tour’ around music shows. With all the glamour, of course the extravagant outfits were included, and this time, you fancied a two piece costume that highlighted all your best, exalted all your movements and most importantly, could make everyone fall at your feet at any given time. All combining with your newest concept, a classy version of the already known girl crush concept. You had asked to be the first in the dressing room and the makeup chair, so you could be able to visit your girlfriend in her green room as soon as possible. 

Gahyeon wasn’t complaining about it either, since your comeback overlapped with the promotions of her group’s comeback. They were already on their last week of promotions whereas this was your first one, giving you both an opportunity to spend a little time together, even if it just meant stealing kisses in between stages, curtains and dressing rooms.

“So...! You really missed me that much?” Your hand raised your girlfriend's chin to meet her eyes with yours. 

“Of course I did, you pabo.” Gahyeon poked your nose with hers as you giggled together. 

It’s not like you weren’t that lovey-dovey, but you preferred not going overboard with the public demonstrations of affection that much, it just didn’t feel comfortable enough. Especially with both of you being idols, you never knew what pair of eyes could be around.

But right now, you were only surrounded by her members and staff, who already knew you and your relationship pretty well, so maybe sneaking a kiss wasn’t so bad-

A knock on the door made you turn your head away from your girlfriend, especially when the voice coming from the opening entrance was the one from your group leader.

“Hello Dreamcatcher sunbaenim!” Her head peaked in, scanning around for you as she bowed to all the girls and staff in the room. Her eyes finally landed over you, a relieved gasp coming out of her mouth as she signed you to follow her. “It’s five minutes until they call us to stage Y/n!”

You sighed, nodding at your leader in response. Gahyeon patted your chest letting you know it was okay for her since, after all, this was work for both of you, and you couldn’t neglect it just for a relationship. You stole a quick peck from her lips and stood up from the couch.

“Will I see you later?” Gahyeon asked, playing lightly with your hair.

“I’ll try my best jagi.” You winked back at her.

Maybe it was the outfit with a combination of a makeup that perfectly highlighted everything she already loved about you, or maybe all this accumulated time without seeing each other, but Gahyeon couldn’t resist pulling your hand and you with it in for a more lively kiss. 

Of course you didn’t reject the offer, softly brushing your lips against hers, before going for a more daring approach. She wrapped the edges of your top around your neck, pulling you closer. Recognizing the flavor of her favorite lip balm, you never got tired of tasting her lips over yours. 

“Sooo… ” Your leader cleared her throat as she rested against the door frame, waiting for you to stop saying goodbye to your girlfriend. Her voice hesitated as she tried to make the moment a little bit less awkward for the spectators. “Congrats on the song unnies! It’s pretty good!”

“Thank you!” JiU chuckled back to her, following the thread of awkwardness. You started noticing the clumsy pace of the conversation, laughing against each others’ lips in the process. “Your album is pretty good too! Gahyeon invited us to listen to it and we really liked it.”

You heard your leader giggling and halting her words, and just then is when you felt the entire room turning their eyes over at you both. You placed a last peck on her lips and pulled away, unhurriedly releasing her hand in the process. Gahyeon sent a flying kiss your way and winked back at you, causing your cheeks to flare up.

“You guys know we love you both but you don’t have to rub it all on our faces.” Siyeon sneered, making you turn to her. Her happy eyes relieved you, knowing she was just messing with you as she often liked to “You know? Some of us feel a little lonely and you don’t help.”

“I’m so sorry Unnie,” You chuckled at her as you bowed in respect, moving towards the exit door. “Good luck today everyone!”

“Thank you!” All the girls waved back at you, in a chorus of happy and excited voices. 

“And good luck to you too,” Your girlfriend planted a kiss on your cheek as she accompanied to the door. “Give your all Y/n, promise?”

“It’s not going to be hard with you on my mind.” You returned the kiss as you stood under the door frame. Getting lost in her perfect eyes once again, a calling force that didn’t let you say goodbye to her completely.

“Let’s go, I told the girls we would meet them behind the stage.” You leader pulled your hand, calling you back to reality. 

“Oh, true.” You shook your head to ground you back, taking in a deep sigh. You allowed yourself one last word to your girlfriend as you started walking away from Dreamcatcher’s dressing room. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She was quick to respond as she waved to you.

You started walking backwards unable to take apart your eyes from her. It was your leader who rolled her eyes at both your puppy-eyed faces and turned you around by the waist, playfully slapping your shoulder to bring you back once again.

“You’re feeling lonely Siyeon-ah?” You heard SuA’s loud voice coming from the inside. “Let me fix that for you!”

“Unnie, what are you doing?” Siyeon responded in a fairly confused tone. “Unnie!?”

You chuckled at the last words you could hear coming from that dressing room before your girlfriend closed the door behind her. You had enough time to get to the stage by then, so it wasn’t necessary to run towards your destination. 

“Should I remind you?” Your leader broke the silence as you walked together. “They haven’t even raised our dating ban, if someone-”

“...Someone catches us like that I could get into big trouble.” You finished your leader’s words as you sighed. “We’re both adults, we know what we’re doing.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you’re still in a rookie group.” She shoved her shoulder against yours, shaking her head. “Don’t forget that Y/n.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You giggled as you shoved her back.

You both arrived at the stage just when your group was being called in to pre-record your performance, all your group got into their positions as you greeted the team and the staff. Usually it takes about three to five takes of the same choreography, with different camera angles and closeups so that they can be stitched together and edited to get the final cut that will air later. 

Your group breezed through the first three easily and quickly, but by the third pass, a new fire rose inside of you when with a glimpse you spotted Gahyeon on the stage wings, her eyes not leaving your moving silhouette as you graced the stage with your daring choreography. 

By the fourth and fifth take, you noticed how cameras focused a bit longer on you. BUt what they didn’t know is that you only made it for the girl living inside your heart, and standing a few feet away from you.

What you couldn’t notice until you finally finished your pre-recordings, was that your girlfriend already fashioned her comeback attire and her killing makeup, the sight punching you straight in the stomach, leaving you breathless. All happened behind you as your group thanked the show’s staff for their hard work and started moving out of the stage. Not until one of your members jumped and surrounded you with her shoulders, happy with the smooth shoot.

You shook your head back to reality, walking alongside your members. And just as you were exiting the stage, it was DreamCatcher’s turn to record their performance. Remembering to hide your relationship from unknown eyes, Gahyeon brushed by your side just politely bowing to all your group, and her eyes maybe lingered an extra second over yours. Only then you were able to catch a closer glimpse of her outfit. 

DreamCatcher always had this super badass concept attached to them, and their styling was no joke either. Rolling with this new biker concept, Gahyeon fashioned some shorts that kept her thighs uncovered, a leather jacket loose enough to drape off her shoulders and high black leather biker boots. Her hair was let down, styled to look as if the wind tapered just enough against it. Her members fashioned similar outfits, some with pants or vests, but it was your girlfriend who you couldn’t take your eyes away from.

“Hey guys,” You called your group as you kept your eyes firmly over Gahyeon. “Do you mind if I stay over here for a while? I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Your leader chuckled at your obviously flustered expression. “Just don’t get caught on camera drooling over Gahyeon.”

You instantly raised your hand to your mouth, cleaning over a fictitious drool that your leader made you thought was already hanging from your mouth. Your groupmates chuckled at that, as you furrowed your eyes towards them, as they headed back to their green room.

DreamCatcher’s comeback music started resonating over the entire venue, turning you around to pay attention. Making sure you were well within the shadows and out of the cameras’ reach, you leaned over a wall, making yourself comfortable to watch your girlfriend give it all on her performances.

You never got tired of watching her in her element, you could see the passion seeping through her in every movement she nailed and every verse that she sang. All combined only prompted you to fall more and more for her, wondering whatever you did to deserve such an amazing girlfriend in your life.

Lost in your trance, you never noticed how they only needed three takes to get everything perfectly, and they were already on the finishing pose of the last one. Maybe it was one of the advantages of being in a more experienced group. 

“This has been DreamCatcher!” JiU and the girls acknowledged the staff’s hard work as they bowed, making you remind in embarrassment how you were all hypnotized to forget that. “Thank you so much for your hard work and caring for u-”

Abruptly, the lights of the entire venue shut completely off, leaving everyone in the dark. Mumbles of confusion were heard all around as people started using the lanterns on their cellphones to light up the rooms around. 

You straightened up the wall, ready to run to your girl if necessary until your urgency was relieved when her group was instantly surrounded by all their managers and their cellphone lights. And really it was you who was going to need a little more help to find your way around, since your phone was with your managers, all the way back at your dressing room.

“Attention!” One of the high ranked staff called the entire stage area. “There has been a problem with our power plant! All artists must be moved to the dressing room area until we can get the backup power back on!”

People started moving around you, and you decided that it was better to stay exactly where you were, hoping somebody could help you. To your great luck, one of DreamCatchers managers who already knew you well enough, saw you and invited you into their lighted brigade. 

You greeted the girls in the formal way that you were expected to when there were other people around, bowing down them as they politely greeted you as if you hadn’t been kissing one of their members an hour ago.

“Really good performance out there DreamCatcher sunbaenims!” You congratulated them, walking besides them to their green room. 

The girls giggled at your comment, partly because they were not used to talking so formally with you by now, but they all thanked you genuinely anyways. A light brush against your hand made you slowly turn your head towards it’s direction, only to find your girlfriend staring to the front, but walking right beside you.

You understood her message perfectly, taking her hand in yours and intertwining your fingers. After all, the darkness wouldn’t let anybody see what was going on down there.

You entered their dressing room behind them, only to end up once again at the same couch you were with before being called by your leader. 

“The heaters are off too, it shouldn’t be too cold but we can give you this in case you’d like to cover yourselves.” One of the show’s staff approached behind you, handing out blankets to everyone. “We’re so sorry for the inconveniences.”

“Thank you!” All the people inside the room chorused as they exited the room, heading to the next one with another batch of blankets.

Gahyeon grabbed one from the stack over the table, and draped it over both your bodies, using it as a perfect excuse to cuddle back into you. 

“You were amazing out there.” You whispered to your girlfriend as the air started filling itself with other conversations to kill time. “I was really thinking ‘Wow, that’s my girlfriend!”

“Y/n! Stop, you’re making me blush!” She whined back to you. Her hands roamed under your laced shirt, resting over your core. The whole gesture caused a chill to bolt down your spine, as you surrounded her shoulders with your arms. “You’re not bad yourself Jagi!”

“You really liked it?” 

“Of course I did!” She playfully slapped your arm, a little offended by your questioning. “And I’m so excited to see everything you guys can do, especially you.”

“Oh, can think of one thing that I would love to do…” You added, chuckling to yourself.

“Really? What is it?” Gahyeon excitedly jumped in her place, her bright eyes still shining in the obscure room, full of curiosity.

“Eh-” Caught off guard, you cleared your throat as you avoided her eyes. “I can’t tell you now-”

“Y/n-yah! That’s not fair!” She complained, puckering her lips. “You can’t go saying that and then just not tell me!”

“Yes I can.” You answered dryly.

“Please tell me?” She begged in the cutest voice she could, trying to get you to fall for her. 

“No.”

“Then I’ll make you!” She returned with a confidence that flustered your brain.

“No, Gahyeon. What are you-” You halted when you saw Gahyeon’s smile grow up, as you felt her hands roaming to your exposed ribs from under the blanket. “Oh no, don’t you dare.”

But it was too late, she started tickling you mercilessly making you contort over your own body, trying to fight back the laughter that urged to come blasting out of your mouth. The blanket ended up falling on the floor from all the movement, as you fighted against your girlfriend’s playful hands. 

Your stomach was starting to hurt from trying to contain the laughter and all the shifting out of your body, as she couldn’t stop cooing at you, taunting you to say exactly what she wanted to hear.

You somehow managed to stand up from the couch and away from your girlfriend’s hold. And it was your turn for vengeance. Gahyeon could see it coming from the wicked smile growing on your lips, and didn’t waste a second standing up and running away from you, out of your reach and quickly enough, out of the room you were sharing with her group.

Bolting behind her, you weren’t sure if you heard the voices of your members or DreamCatcher call both your names or you had just hallucinated them. But it was a worry that lasted just one second, enough for your eyes to catch the silhouette of your girlfriend running away from you across the dark halls of the venue. 

Gahyeon’s cute taunting giggles helped you go behind her as this game of cops and robbers started for both of you. She ran in between the different dressing rooms and up and down the stairs, sometimes barely avoiding your hand as she turned out to be faster than you imagined.

She just knew that once your hands were on top of her, there’s no way you were taking them off. Which, right now, wasn’t such a bad idea for her. 

She cut the corner and quickly entered an empty dressing room behind her, covering her mouth from the giggles and heavy breaths that tried to escape and give away her location. But it didn’t work out too well after all, because even in the dim light that the entire building was buried on, her platinum, purple-ish hair was bright enough, and you knew exactly where she was hiding.

Gahyeon’s breathing calmed down but she stopped hearing your steps. She waited for a few seconds, but curiosity won over her, and to her own demise, she peaked her head out of the dressing room’s door to try and find you. That’s when you jumped in surprise against her, surrounding her with both your arms to avoid another escape attempt.

“Finally! My vengeance will fall upon thee!” You thickened your voice as your hands fought against your girlfriend to find her tickly spots. 

“I promise I won’t do it again!” She giggled, looking at your eyes for forgiveness. “Only if you tell me what you wanted to say downstairs!”

“Ah…” You abruptly stopped trying to reach her, trying to remember what you actually wanted to say. You placed your hands around Gahyeon’s waist, pulling her close to you. “Wait- I don’t remember what that was.”

“Want me to remind you?” You felt her hands sneaking back to your ribs once again, a cheeky smile growing on her perfect lips as she giggled.

“You’re in a very compromised position right now.” You raised your eyebrows this time, softly moving your hands up and down her waist to remind her that you could attack first. “Would you really-”

The new sudden tickle attack caught you off guard, making you accidentally kick the door to the dressing room close behind you. But at least you weren’t defenceless now, as you started tickling her back in response. 

Drowning in between your smiles and giggles, you didn’t realize there was a couch sitting exactly behind you. And just one more step back was enough to tumble both of you back over it, with Gahyeon falling on top of you.

“Fine! Fine. I give up!” You breathed out as you took in the impact and laid down the couch comfortably, Gahyeon snuggling against you as you both calmed down your breath. 

“So you’re going to tell me what you wanted to say before?” She looked up at you, and there was no way you could say no to the brightest eyes in your life.

“I can’t remember it exactly,” You started, gaining a sigh out of her. You took her chin in your hand and raised her close to your lips. “But I think it would be better to show you.”

Her head tilted in curiosity, with her eyes narrowing full of desire to know and a light nod from her head were enough of an answer for you.

Your hand traveled back to her neck as you pulled her closer to you, crashing your lips together with an accumulated craving from both sides. Letting your fingers play with her hair as you soaked your senses in each other's fragrances. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Gahyeon’s voice resembled that of her morning voice, as she tried to keep her tone and volume low. Just exclusive for the moment.

“For longer that I can remember,” You whispered back against her lips, sneaking words between each gentle brush of your lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the girls. But we don’t get much time together… Alone.”

“And you couldn’t wait a bit longer?” She giggled, raising her eyebrows but clearly not against everything that was happening. 

“You tell me about it,” You scoffed back. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep her hands off me down in the dressing room.”

“Look,” She moved her hair to the side, shaking her head as she seductively leaned her lips against your ear.  “I’ll just say that whoever put you in that outfit deserves a raise.”

“I’ll make sure to pass down that message to the stylist then.” You teased back as you turned your head, capturing her lips with yours once again. 

Time seemed to stop for both of you as your lips coordinated their delicate choreography. It didn’t matter how used to each other they were, they would never have enough of the velvet like sensations and flavors, those whose combination sparked fireworks up in your hearts and entire melodies in your bellies.

Her hand made it up to your cheek, gently caressing it as you couldn’t have enough of each other. You raised your hand to meet hers, interlacing your fingers together and pulling your hands apart of your face. A smile growing against your lips prompted you to sit up, directing Gahyeon up with you. Her unoccupied hand shooting up at your collar as she pulled you up herself, not breaking your lips apart at any moment.

Only a lack of air in both your lungs prompted you to halt, but your hands clutching to each other gave up how far from the end this was it. Gahyeon took advantage of the break to move on top of you, straddling your hips. The dim light of the room was enough to catch a glimpse of her hooded eyes and cheeky smile, just as she snaked her arms around your shoulders and up your neck, lacing her hands with your hair. 

You let your hands roam to her hips, pulling her as close to you as possible. The smirk growing on your lips caused a big smile on your girlfriend’s face. You shook your head, incredulous of the entire situation, begging that no one woke you up if you were dreaming. 

Only Gahyeon was able to bring you back, as she used her hands behind your head to bring you closer to her. Benefiting from that, you placed her lips right on the edge of her jaw, charming your way around her skin. Your hands roamed to her thighs, gently holding at them as you slowly kissed lower each time, eventually arriving at her exposed neck. Little gasps escaped your girlfriend’s mouth as you dangerously kissed closer to her collarbones, but her private whispered whines only kept you wanting more.

“Y/n?” She gasped your name, immediately making you pull apart. 

“What happened Jagi?” Your hand gently put her hair behind her ear, resting over her blushing cheeks. “Anything wrong?”

“No, just...” She sheepishly whispered, locking her eyes with yours. A glance full of love in its purest form only made you question why you hadn’t crossed each other’s life earlier. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Not hesitating a second you smiled back at her, gently pulling her head closer to yours. 

Connecting your lips once again, lingering with each other a bit more aggressively this time around. Your leather and lace outfits smoothly grinded against each other as you desperately enjoyed each other as much as you could, feeling your heart burn itself with a sweet warmth that you knew only by Gahyeon’s side. 

Your tongue brushed against her lips, asking for permission to go further. She let you in with a mild whine as your tongues played against each other for dominance, unleashing brief moans from both of you, as her hands pulled your hair roughly and your fingers dove harsher against the skin on her hips.

Between the clicking of your mouths and the creaking of your complex and expensive costumes, you didn’t notice the door creaking open, and a hand clicking the light over the room.

“Here you are, they’re calling us back to the st-” Dami’s voice abruptly stopped as her eyes laid upon the sight in the room. Her cheeks heavily blushing, her eyes growing in circumference as the words she planned to say completely left her mind.

Both of you jumped apart, looking back at Dami startled. For what seemed like minutes, none of you three dared to move as to try and hide from your own existence, each of you asking for the earth to swallow you whole.

“Oh, look at that,” You cleared your throat as you quickly took your hands off your girlfriend’s hips, hiding them behind your hair. “The light is back…”

“That’s… That’s good!” Gahyeon janked her hands away from your shoulders, standing up from your thighs and fixing back her clothes. “Yes, that’s definitely good.”

Dami could do nothing but stand there just, staring back at forth at the both of you. And you both dared to do anything but stand up and try to fix your clothes as much as you could. A crushing silence engulfed the room as you three just… stood there in awkward quietness.

“Hey, did you find them Unnie?” Your leader’s voice approaching from the hall made you shut your eyes and furrow your eyebrows, shrinking in your place.

“I haven’t but I think I heard Dami over here.” JiU’s voice answering back marked Gahyeon’s turn to hide behind her hands, pulling them up to her face as both’s steps kept moving closer to the room. “There she is!”

“Hey Dami, did you find somethi-” Your leader’s voice now at the door halted when her eyes laid upon yours, as you apologetically smiled back, your cheeks growing in redness.

Both your leaders crossed their arms at the sight in front of them, bearing the disapproving grin all over their faces, it was kind of clear for everyone what had happened in that empty room, and if it wasn’t for poor Dami, who might have to carry that image in her mind for the rest of her life, who knows how far you and Gahyeon could have taken it. 

“Do we want to ask about it or...?” JiU called off as a grin grew on her face. 

Both of you just shook your head, walking towards the door to go back to work. Your leaders followed you close behind as you walked the halls of the now lighted venue all together. You turned your head towards your girlfriend to catch her already looking back at you with a faint smile on her perfect lips. You returned the smile adding a wink to the mix, to what you both giggled at the ridiculousness of the entire ordeal.

“Oh hey! There you are- WOAH.” SuA stopped her steps as she came closer to both of you. But contrary to the other girls before her, she released a loud chuckle to the air. “Oh Gahyeon-ah. I knew you would take my advice.”

“SuA!” JiU told her off but there was no turning down her loud laughter as that called the rest of the girls around you.

“Yeah…” Siyeon tried to contain back her laughter as she scanned both of you from head to toe. “There’s no way you both are going back into the stage like that, hurry to hair and makeup quickly for a retouch.”

“Yes unnie.” Gahyeon and you chorused as you took a quick peek at each other. 

Your disheveled hair-dos matched your lipsticks, that now lied beyond the borders of both your lips. Not mentioning the ran eyeliner, but you could swear that was from the tickling and not the making out part. But neither of you bothered explaining, you both knew you were gonna get nagged about this for a long time, and preferred ot giving them more weapons to do so.

“Dami, are you okay?” Yoohyeon’s sudden change of tone to one more concerned called everyone’s attention to both of them. “You look like you had seen a ghost.”

Gahyeon and you couldn’t contain the cackle that the comment caused, JiU and your leader following with you. Soon everyone but Dami was giggling as they understood the real reason of her appalled expression, as she sighed lowering her head, trying to get the image out of her head.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

[chocoholicannanymous]

Concepts of Insanity (Glee)

AN: No proofreading whatsoever. Subject to rewrite if I change my mind about it. Take it or leave it.

Concepts of Insanity

“Kurt? Oh, there you are, good. We have an emergency!”

Kurt smiles a little as he finishes up rearranging the flowers. He adores Isabelle, he really does, but she's a bit...excitable. There's always an emergency, or a disaster, or a catastrophe. So far today there's been four, unless he's miscounting; a lose hem, a missing delivery of non-alcoholic champagne, Isabelle almost fainting from forgetting to eat, and the flowers he's currently fixing not being enough something or other. He's actually kind of curious what it is this time.

He gives the flowers a last look, nods with satisfaction and turns around. The smile on his lips dies the second he meets Isabelle's eyes. This isn't a normal emergency.

“What's wrong?”

“The musicians are here, only the vocalist is currently throwing up to the point where they've called an ambulance.”

Kurt winces. That doesn't sound good for whoever it is. Also it really doesn't sound good for them. Isabelle had gone out on a limb with the small ensemble she'd hired for the event, deciding to make the music more than a background by having some songs performed with vocals. To have the vocalist missing would throw off the setlist. Maybe not enough for most people to notice, but at an event like this? Someone would definitely notice.

Especially since word seemed to have spread.

“I've spent the last ten minutes on the phone, and there's not a single vocalist to be had. This is so bad, Kurt! I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

Kurt hesitates, uncomfortable with voicing his possible solution, but deciding to offer it up anyway. It's Isabelle.

(Plus Rachel will never forgive him if he doesn't and she finds out.)

“I know it's not what you were aiming at, but my roommate is a NYADA student, and I know that most of the songs you picked out is in her wheelhouse. I could call her? If she answers she could hop in a cab and be here in 30 minutes.”

Isabelle looks a bit hesitant, but nods.

“Please do. I'll pay for the cab too, obviously. Check back with me in 5 minutes?”

Kurt agrees and hurries out to a silent space, phone in hand already dialing as he walks. There's no response for his first call, and Kurt leaves a hurried voice mail for Rachel to call him asap as it's an emergency. He then sends the same message as a text before trying to call again. He manages to squeeze in a total of five calls before he has to return to Isabelle, without response.

Maybe Rachel's in the shower again. Or singing. Or on a date with Brody.

“I'm sorry, Isabelle. I couldn't get hold of her.”

“Never mind, I have an idea. Can you do it?”

Kurt stares at her, not quite believing he heard her right.

“Me?” She nods and he shakes his head. “Isabelle, you've never even heard me sing!”

“True. But honey, I know how good you are with fashion. For you to chose music over that you have to be either insanely talented or just insane. So, will you do it?”

Kurt wants to shake his head again. What she's suggesting is crazy. Yes, Kurt can sing, but... His focus on music is more and more looking like insanity. He's just gotten rejected by Carmen Tibideaux a second time, for crying out loud. “Devoid of complexity and depth” echoes through his skull.

Except. This is Isabelle asking. His fairy godmother of sorts. He owes her.

“Are you sure? I'll do it, if you really want, but I'm not going to be anywhere as good as whoever you'd hired,” or Rachel for that matter, “and I don't want to ruin this for you.”

“You are going to be amazing. Thank you, Kurt, you're a lifesaver!”

And with that Isabelle floats off, leaving Kurt in a dazed state. He's going to panic, sooner or later, but for now he's still too stunned for it.

Right. His first action has to be to talk to the ensemble. The plan was to have the vocalist on three sets of three songs throughout the evening, but he's not entirely clear on what numbers had finally been picked. He will probably need to review lyrics up until the guests arrive, provided he can actually manage all of them. He's got a good range, yes, but that's not everything.

Oh, and he should swing by Isabelle's office and nab the blue west he'd spotted earlier – he'd dressed to fade against the wallpaper, not to be seen.

The first set goes well, as does the second. By the third and final he's lost enough of his nerves to let Isabelle drag him out on the floor instead of going off to hide as he'd initially planned. Several people drop by to talk, and he gets more than a few compliments. Maybe it's more about looking good to Isabelle than about actually liking it, but Kurt will take it anyway.

“So, you must be not just a talented singer but talented in fashion too for Isabelle to have taken you under her wing. Do you study fashion or music?”

The woman, Nadia something, asking sounds genuine and so Kurt gives her a small smile and answers as pleasantly as he can.

“Neither actually. I'm applying to NYADA though.”

There's a flash of something in her face, but Kurt can't quite make out what it is.

“For the spring semester? Ah.” She hesitates, sends a look towards where Isabelle is talking animatedly about something, and then looks at Kurt again.

“Can I be honest? Carmen Tibideaux is a very talented woman, in everything she does, and she's got an eye for picking out talent. However, she's also got a bit of a reputation.

“She loves to discover new talent that others overlook. Except every now and again she'll go about it in a rather underhanded way. She'll have someone audition, someone talented but a little raw around the edges. Someone with a ton of talent but a weak resumé, often with a little less self-esteem than most performers. She'll praise them and then turn them down. Most of the time they'll come back, looking for a second chance – she said they were great, right? Surely that means they'll get the part sooner or later, if they just approach it right.”

Kurt swallows. It sounds a little too familiar for comfort.

“Sometimes she'll turn them down both a second and third time, and then she'll put them on the spot, giving them another chance as long as they step out of their comfort zone and perform to her standards. And then she'll take them, and she'll own them. They'll go through their whole careers claiming they owe it all to her.”

She looks Kurt in the eyes, sincerity radiating out of her – but Kurt knows how little that means, in these circles – and a kind expression on her face.

“I'm not saying that's you, but for you to be applying to the spring semester, with your level of talent... If she's doing it to you, you should know you're not the first, and I doubt you'd be the last.

“Any school would be well served to have you as a student, I think. I already know you're talented, and as I know Isabelle I also know you have to be hardworking. Plus, seeing as that ensemble always works with a female vocalist I'm assuming something happened to have you step in at the last minute, meaning you stand up to pressure.

“NYADA is not the only school in New York for a young man like you, and I'd argue that it's not the best either. Think about what I've said, will you? And thank you again for a very enjoyable performance.”

It's only years of pretending in the face of bullies and a worried father that allows Kurt to pull of a believable goodbye and graceful exit. After this he's definitely hiding in Isabelle's office, damn it.

When Kurt comes back to the loft it's late and he wants nothing more to fall into bed, nighttime routines be damned. But Rachel's sitting on the couch, waiting for him judging from the expectant look on her face.

“I tried to call you.” It comes out a little flat, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to pretend. He needed her, called an emergency damn it, and she hasn't even texted him back in the six hours since his frantic calling.

“I heard, but I was busy practicing my number for tomorrow.” She doesn't even look sorry.

“Oh? I thought you said you didn't have any assignments for tomorrow.” That was why he'd felt safe calling her, after all.

She just waves a hand, clearly not too bothered.

“Nothing official, no, but that's no reason not to be ready to perform. I'm sure there will be an opening for me to dazzle my classmates.” And she goes on to describe the songs she's considered, and who's done them, and why her version is better, and Kurt just...tunes her out.

She hasn't even asked what he wanted. It's as if the thought hasn't even passed her mind. Well. If she's not interested then he's not going to waste his time telling her – especially not since she's bound to get upset over losing an opportunity to perform for an actual audience. He's also not going to waste his time listening to her go on about what she'd done instead of checking in on him.

“I'm going to bed.”

“Kurt! I need your input on this, surely bed can wait a bit?” When he shakes his head  her face hardens. “Fine, be that way. NYADA is hard, you know. It takes dedication. Maybe if you showed a little more of that you would have gotten accepted.”

Kurt shoves down the desire to slap her and bites out a “goodnight” before stalking off to bed. He can't believe she went there. Oh wait, he can. It's so Rachel, to just look at herself and ignore everything else. Show more dedication? Devoid of complexity and depth. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

Kurt had knocked his audition out of the park. Rachel and madam Tibideaux both had admitted that. Meanwhile Rachel had choked. Yet he'd been rejected while Rachel fucking Berry swanned around NYADA claiming to be dedicated. She never should have gotten accepted based on her audition. And somehow he just knows that there's no way she'd admit that Kurt should have been given that spot, not her.

As for madam Tibideaux and her “I rarely give anyone a second chance and if I do it's on my terms”... Bah! Rachel had harassed her way into her second chance. Hell, she'd recruited several others to also harass the madam on her behalf.

But somehow Kurt reapplying was the foul thing here. Right.

Maybe it was time he looked at options other than NYADA. That woman at the vogue event, she'd said that other schools might be a better fit for him. She'd sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Unlike Kurt, honestly, who'd pinned his hopes on NYADA based on Rachel. Hindsight has him questioning if he'd been slipped something, because leaving his college education up to whatever Rachel wanted? Insanity.

Well. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, right? Clearly it's time to change his approach.

O--o---o--O

A week later Rachel comes home from the NYADA Winter Showcase bubbling about her success and how she's taken them all by storm. She makes a snide comment or two about how Kurt should have been able to see it for himself, had he taken the ticket she'd gone through so much trouble to acquire for him instead of doing whatever (it's called work), and Kurt just nods. He doesn't really care, but. He has to at least pretend to listen to preserve peace in the loft.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Madam Tibideaux asked after you.”

Kurt stills like a dog scenting prey. This he wants to hear.

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently she was considering giving you another chance at applying. I don't know why she had to do it tonight, as it's for NYADA students and you're not, but she did. You should probably contact her. If you apologize properly she might still be open to it.”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for a reaction and clearly not pleased with what she's seeing.

“Well?”

“I'll think about it, Rachel. Calm down.”

And he will. Only he's not too eager to apologize to madam Tibideaux, or give her another chance to toy with him and probably reject him (he didn't show up for what she had planned, after all). It all sounds very much like what Nadia described at the vogue event. He listened. He might not have liked what he heard, or wanted to believe it, but he listened. In more than one way.

Over the past seven days he's written half a dozen applications to various music schools in New York, and sent them out. His current favorite is the New School, where a tour of the campus has given him a very good vibe. He'd be happy there, he thinks, and they might be happy with him. At least that's his take from meeting a couple of faculty members, one of the more prestigious of which just so happens to be Nadia.

Who would have guessed that doing a favor for Isabelle would lead to this? He might just owe her even more by now. Fairy godmother indeed.

~ The End ~

[weelittleweasley]

Little Lion | Ron x Reader

Prompt as requested by 2 anons: Naturally as a Slytherin, you exude confidence and intimidation. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, not so much. But that’s what made you so attracted to the other, much to everyone else’s surprise. Question is will he muster up the courage to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him?

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE: I know, I know, I know, the Yule Ball is only around for the Triwizard Tournament, but let’s pretend like it doesn’t exist just then!! I wanted to age everyone up to year six and give Ron and opportunity to redeem himself from the robes his mother sent him hehe. I literally am a fucking fiend for Ron Weasley, my love for him should be ILLEGAL. Ron content on here is MINIMAL TO NONE! If anyone has any great fic recs for Ron, PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY. LOOK AT THAT MOTHERFUCKER!! I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

All it took was for you to walk down the hall to get people to look at you and start whispering between each other. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, in fact you quite liked it. You were a confident girl and sometimes that confidence intimidated people. It gave you this sense of power that you liked to use when you needed something out of someone. Not to mention the people you surrounded yourself with in your house were also quite intimidating people, one of them being Draco Malfoy. 

You and Draco were best friends, a dynamic duo of sorts. People thought that you two would end up together, falling madly in love. But Draco was like your brother. He took you under his wing when you got Hogwarts and he was the person who helped you unlock that unfaltering confidence within you. Besides, Draco and you’s personalities clashed too much for it to work with you. You were both dominant, confident, intimidating people; Both of you needed to be in control at all times. Far too similar. 

Instead, you took a liking to people who were more reserved. People who thought before they acted upon their impulses. You needed someone who balanced you out. But someone who could dominate you and keep you at bay when you needed it. Only problem was people like that were scared of you or found you unapproachable. Which you understood, but at the same time, you wished that those people could suck it up and make a move.

As you walked down the hall today, Draco made his way next to you. “We should skip Potions today,” he states as you roll your eyes. Sometimes Draco kept this cool boy act up too much and you knew he was a big softie on the inside and he actually enjoyed school more than he liked to admit. “Seriously. We could ditch Slughorn’s class and hang out in the common room or by the Black Lake,” he tries to tempt you.

“Dray, we’re going to class whether you like it or not,” you speak as you continue to walk to class, Draco groaning when you tell him this. “Slughorn is may be old, but he says valuable things,” you push his shoulder.

The blonde boy just sighs. “I hate when you’re right.”

The both of you walk into Potions class, your face lighting up when you see that your other friends from Slytherin were already in class, awaiting your arrival. You grab a seat with Draco on your right and Pansy on your left. Pansy already starts gossiping about people who you could honestly care less about, but you give her the attention she wants anyway, her being one of your closest girl friends in the school. 

As she blabs on about some poor girl from Hufflepuff that she picked on during lunch, you watch as some Gryffindors enter the classroom, your eyes sticking on the Weasley boy. Ron Weasley was someone who you watched from afar. He was one of those boys who had that boyish charm that made you blush. The ginger was funny, for sure, but he had thoughtful and kind mannerisms that made your heart flutter when you watched him. You picked up on how he would notice when Granger would get distressed and he would offer her a sweet from his backpack that he had stored for occasions like this. You watched how he always packed more than one quill because Potter always managed to forget his. You watched how his eyes widened with fear when Slughorn would talk about how Potions can go wrong quickly, the Weasley boy fearfully concocting his. All of those little ticks made you develop a little crush on him after months of watching him.

Ron sat down in his typical seat next to Hermione and Harry, but he could feel a set of eyes on him from the moment he walked into the classroom. “Is she looking at me?” he nervously asks Harry. 

Harry glances over in your direction, watching that your eyes were glued on Potter’s best friend. When you notice Harry looking at you, you quickly turn away and pay attention to Pansy who continues to ramble. “She was,” Harry reports back. Ron nervously groans. “Oh come on, maybe she has a crush on you.”

“I highly doubt it. I bet she’s planning how to rip my heart out of my chest and then serve it to Malfoy on a silver platter,” his voice cracks. “She scares me.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Oh, please, Ronald. Just because the girl is confident and knows what she wants doesn’t make her scary; it makes her smart. I don’t know why she would have a crush on someone like you.”

Ron just looks at Hermione. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he exclaims.

With a huff, Hermione turns to Ron and Harry. “It means I’m surprised that she doesn’t have a crush on someone like Draco or Blaise Zabini. She likes someone like you, Ronald. Merlin, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you,” she turns back to the board, ready to start class. 

Your conversation with Pansy is interrupted when Professor Slughorn appear in front of the classroom and starts class, telling you to get into pairs. You turn to Draco, who was always your partner, Pansy with Blaise, Crabbe with Goyle. Everyone in the class regardless of their houses worked with the same people. Slughorn notices this and asks, “How about we switch it up and work with different people?” This earns a chorus of groans from the class. “I’m glad all of you are so eager to work with each other,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll assign the partners.” This earns more groans from the class.

Slughorn starts to pair people up with each other. You start to think that Slughorn is trying to make drama in the class when he starts. “Parkinson and Potter,” he announces.

“You’re bloody joking,” Pansy huffs making you laugh with Draco, making Pansy turn beet red. She grabs her things and moves to a work table in the back of the classroom. 

Slughorn continues to rattle off names of unlikely duos. “Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn continues as you have to stifle your laugher and Draco whispers multiple profanities, slapping your shoulder, him grabbing his things in a huff. Hermione was definitely not happy about this pairing either as she has a scared look on her face as she looks at Ron before she moves to the back tables. “Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley,” Slughorn announces.

Your heart quite literally stops and Ron looks like a deer in headlights. You did not expect this pair to happen. You can hear Draco cackling in the back of the classroom as you whip your head around. “Shut it, you nitwit,” you spit at him as he continues to laugh. You grab all of your belongings and make your way to a back table as Ron follows. Draco is still laughing, so you waste no time, slapping him upside the head, him letting out an ow! as you do so. “Bloody moron,” you huff at him before plopping down at a table with a shy Ron next to you. It is awkward. 

Slughorn calls out the last few partners before giving you the assignment for the  day. After he finished speaking, the class is silent for a long beat before the small chatter beings. You turn to Ron and offer him a small smile which he nervously reciprocate. The poor bloke is afraid of me, you think too yourself. “-so-”

“-um-”

The both of you talk at the same time. “You go,” you insist to Ron.

He shakes his head. “No, no, go ahead, I don’t even know what I was going to say, something stupid probably,” he tells you. His comment makes you lightly laugh. You suggest how you should start the task given. “Yep, much smarter than what I was going to say.”

You laugh again, “I’m sure what you were going to say was not stupid, Ron.” You had him a few vials of liquids needed to craft this potion. He carefully takes them from your hands and you notice how he actively avoids touching his hands against yours as if they were poison. Your heart kind of sinks at this. Were you that intimidating to him? You start, “You know,” you grab a pair of gloves, “I don’t bite. I know other people in the school say otherwise, but I’m not that bad.”

Ron gives you a genuine smile and laughs, looking down as his feet. “I’m sure you don’t,” he tells you as you blush lightly. “I guess pretty girls scare me.” Your heart rate picks up at the compliment, gulping a little bit, not making eye contact, too scare to. This was so unlike yourself. Ron clears his throat, “Anyway, let’s start, shall we?”

Within thirty minutes, you and Ron have completed all of the assignments for today’s class. You still had thirty minutes left of class, but Slughorn comes over. “Everything looks right to me!” he exclaims with excitement. “Well done, Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley! Since you’ve completed your work, I can dismiss you early from class!” 

“What? That’s rubbish!” yells Draco from the other side of the room. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing your things and thanking Slughorn for the great class. 

You and Ron exit the class. “Job well done, indeed,” you laugh as you nudge Ron’s shoulder as he laughs. The two of you walk side by side down the hall. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see you around, Weasley.”

Starting to walk in the opposite direction, you hear Ron call, “Wait! Uh...” You turn around to see Ron behind you. “I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and I was, um, do you wanna hang out by the Black Lake? I had snacks that I stole from the kitchen this morning.”

You cannot prevent the smile that forms across your lips. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Ron’s lips form a cheeky grin. “Wicked.”

The two of you made your way to the Black Lake, making small talk here and there until you reached your destination. The both of you sat side by side on the grass as Ron handed you a bag of crisps from his backpack as you thank him for the snack. “So,” he starts, “this might be a weird question, but...why are you friends with people like Malfoy and Parkinson?”

You smile and lightly laugh at the question. “Draco and I are like siblings. He’s the brother I never had. When I got to Hogwarts, as hard as it may be to believe, I was really shy. I didn’t talk to many people and he took me under his wing. He helped me find my voice. I owe that to him. But that’s all that Draco and I are. Friends,” you stress, trying to express that you and Draco’s relationship was simply platonic. Ron nods. “Pansy on the other hand, she and I became friends because of Draco, but to be honest, she annoys me more than she does entertain me.”

This makes Ron laugh. “I thought I was the only one who found her dreadful,” he chuckles.

“What about you? Why are you friends with Harry and Hermione?” you ask him before munching on a chip.

Ron takes a deep breath in. “Like you said, Harry’s my brother. He gets me into deep shit, but he’s my brother.” You laugh at his passing joke, Ron looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “But seriously, Harry and I met on the train to Hogwarts. He and I have been inseparable since. Hermione, on the other hand, butt her way into Harry and I’s friendship. Again, she gets me into some deep shit, too, but here I am...The two of them are much braver than I am though, so I don’t quite understand why they think I’m a good addition to this team.”

You nudge his shoulder. “I disagree with that,” you speak truthfully. “You’re a Gryffindor! You’re like a lion,” you shimmy your shoulders, making him laugh.

“A little lion,” he retorts. 

“More of a lion than I am,” you counter, making him blush.

-------

More classes like this came along. You and Ron partnered up and finished your assignment for the day early, escaping class to hang out by the lake, eat snacks, and clown around. The more time you spent with Ron, the more comfortable you were with each other. But most of your interactions were limited to Potions class and your Blake Lake encounters. Other than that, you hung out with different people, spend your free time doing different things. This made you both cherish your private moments more. 

You sat by the Black Lake today, eating biscuits that your mom sent in a parcel to you. As you munched, you spoke, “The Yule Ball is coming up.” The mention of the Yule Ball makes the both of you tense. Neither of you had dates yet and you both secretly hoped the other wanted to go with each other. “You reckon you know who you want to ask?”

Ron munches on his biscuit quietly before swallowing. “Not really,” he lies through his teeth. I want to take you, Ron thinks. “What about you?” You shake your head no. I want to go with you, you think. “I’m sure you’ll have someone ask you, (Y/N). How could you not get a date? Look at you,” he tells you as you blush. 

You wanted to scream at him to ask you. That you wanted him to take you to the Yule Ball so you didn’t have to go with someone like Crabbe or Goyle. But you don’t. You just sit and finish your biscuit. “I think I’m gonna head back,” you confess, not really wanting to stay any longer with Ron no matter how much you actually wanted to capitalize on your time with him. 

As you rise, Ron watches you gather your things. You bloody idiot, just say it, he thinks to himself. Mustering up all of the confidence he has, Ron stands up and stops you. “(Y/N)?” he asks, stopping you from walking away from him. You look at the Weasley, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Ron takes a deep breath in and then says, “Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Your heart flutters and the biggest smile appears on your face followed by beet red cheeks. Ron stares at you, relishing in how beautiful you look in this moment with kind eyes and rosy cheeks. “Okay. Yes,” you shake your head, making Ron smile wide.

“Brilliant,” he whispers, picking up his bag, walking back to the castle with you. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nudging his shoulder, you tease, “Well, you didn’t make it a question, little lion.” Ron chuckles. “I would have said yes either way,” you admit.

-----

The Yule Ball rolled around and you were ball of nerves and excitement. You couldn’t wait to just go downstairs and see Ron and spend the evening with him. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing your hands over the satin crimson fabric of your dress. You smiled to yourself, you chose this dress mostly because of how beautiful it was, but also knowing it was the colors of Gryffindor. You wanted everyone to know who you were at the dance with. You were wearing these colors with pride tonight. 

Before you made your way to the ball, you met up with Draco. “Wow,” he claps as you walk towards him, you rolling your eyes. “You look stunning,” Draco tells you as you smile.

“You look fine,” you shrug as Draco teasingly slapping your shoulder. “I’m kidding, Malfoy, you look great.”

Draco offers you his arm as you both make your way to the hall where the Ball was. “I never asked you,” Draco says, “who was the lucky bloke who asked you?”

As you turn the corner to the hall, there Ron was, dressed in a black suit with a jacket that was a smidge too big on him. Probably a hand-me-down from Fred or George. Regardless, Ron looked handsome as ever. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw him. “Him,” you whisper breathlessly. 

Draco chuckles at first because he thinks you’re kidding. “You’re going with a Weasley?” he asks in disbelief. You ignore his snide comment, disjoining you from Draco, and you walk over to Ron. Draco turns to Zabini, “Did you know she was going with Weasley?” Zabini shakes his head. “What has gotten into her?”

Ron feels as if he may faint. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress of crimson, hair perfectly falling to frame your face. He felt like a fish out of water in his older brother’s old suit, but his thoughts were pushed aside when you approached him. “You are gorgeous,” he blurts, making you blush. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” he lightly laughs, grabbing your hand. “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

Smiling at the boy in front of you, you squeeze his hand. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” you confess. “I have the kindest, handsomest boy as my date to the Yule Ball.” Ron blushes a deep shade of red, almost matching your dress. “You want to go in, lion?” you call him his nickname. Ron nods and guides you inside to the ball. 

-----

The Yule Ball was fun for the first hour and a half. But soon enough you grew tired of dancing and jumping around. Ron looked over at you and spoke over the music, “You wanna get out of here?” You don’t even have to answer him, you just grab his hand and start making your way out. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. 

When you are outside of the hall, Ron tells you, “Give me one minute. I need to grab something from my room before we go. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him leave, a big smile on your face as you smooth out the material of your dress. This night felt nothing short of magical. Ron was a gentleman, making you laugh, dancing with you the whole night, making sure you were comfortable. He was perfect.

“You went to the ball with Weasley? (Y/N), you can do so much better,” Pansy laughs from behind you. “He’s a complete git.” Anger starts to rise in your chest. “You really could have anyone in this school and you chose the man who wears his brothers’ old clothes. He can barely stand up for himself, he has to let Granger fight his battles for him.”

“Will you shut it, Parkinson?” you snap. “Just because Draco didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball doesn’t mean you have to pick on everyone else’s dates because you are unhappy that you had to settle for Goyle. It’s not my fault that you get upset when people are happier than you. So how about this? Keep your opinions to yourself, because I can assure you no one wants to hear them. Not me, not Draco, no one.” Pansy’s face turns sheet white. “I like Ron. I think he’s brilliant. And I’m going to enjoy my night with him.”

The silence between you is deafening when you finish. Pansy just stares at you as you catch your breath from yelling at her. You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Spinning around, you see Ron behind you. You wished you could feel embarrassed right now, but you don’t. You just grab his hand and leave a shocked Pansy behind. “Merlin, remind me not to make you angry,” Ron diffuses the situation, brilliantly. You laugh at him before intertwining your fingers, leaving the Ball behind and escaping to your signature spot.

Draco leaves the hall and sees you leaving with Ron, hands clasped together. “Can you believe her?” Pansy asks Draco.

Draco just looks at Pansy. “I don’t care who she’s with. As long as she’s happy and they make her happy. That’s all you should care about too,” he speaks before walking away from Pansy with Crabbe and Goyle not too far behind him.

Soon, you and Ron arrive to Black Lake and sit beside each other on the grass in your ball attire, not caring if it gets dirty at this point. You look out at the lake as it shimmers in the moonlight. The night was beautiful. Just chilly. Ron immediately notices you shiver and without hesitation, he takes off his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to,” you insist.

“Yes, I do. Don’t want you to get sick now, do we?” Ron smiles at you, wrapping an arm behind you carefully as you lean into him. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you resting your head on his shoulder as he lays his head on yours. “What did you have to grab from your room?” you curiously ask him. 

You can feel Ron smile against your hair. “Reach into my jacket pocket. The left one.” You do so and pull out a small red rose. Its petals were lightly crushed from being pushed into his suit jacket pocket. You look up at Ron, eyebrows furrowed as if to say what’s this all about? “I wanted to get you a whole bouquet, but they wouldn’t have fit in my pocket,” he jokes as you laugh. “I like you, (Y/N). A lot. I like spending time with you and being around you. You make me happy. So, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend?” 

His confidence is palpable. You’d been rubbing off on him. He must have been rubbing off on you because there is a deep shade of red on your cheeks, you feel almost unable to speak. You finally find the words and say, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Weasley.”

Ron smiles big and just gawks at you. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” you repeat as he laughs. “And you’re my little lion now.”

The two of you just look at each other for a moment before he speaks, “I’m going to kiss you...if that’s okay.” You nod your head and close the gap in between you two. The kiss is gentle and his lips are soft against yours. He kisses you like he is afraid of breaking you. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer. You smile lightly into the kiss before pulling away slowly. “Bloody hell,” he whispers, inches from your face. “I’m so glad that this went better than I expected,” he admits as you laugh at your boyfriend.

[jiminrings]

would you (III)

pairing: jimin x y/n

wordcount: 6k

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

or the one in which love isn’t one-sided anymore, jimin realizes his feelings, and yearning for you is what keeps him awake.

would you by pink sweats

part one | part two | part three

Both oddly yet unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s become a constant in your life.

For starters, both of you were lonely and needed someone, even if it’s by the sidelines. The equivalent of white noise and an extra pillow to put by your side so you’d feel surrounded.

Funnily enough, Jungkook’s as good as a mainstay in your life as you are with him, providing company and warmth with no question. It’s as if he’s always been your friend and you never met each other in such desperate measures.

Given that, sure, maybe you and Jungkook don’t fuck each other as often and it’s only occasional now at this point, but the conversation stays and lasts. It’s the routine of him pounding into you as he talks shit about the pressure he feels fron rival companies that aren’t even worth his time, and you talking about how thankful you are that he’s accepted you into his company and that you can’t be any more pumped to start.

That’s his cue to (very nicely) threaten you to shutting up if you still want to cum, and him talking in between broken grunts that you’ve earned the job both for your credentials and skills and of course the potential — not some dumb luck of having him as the CEO of the very company you’re chasing after, being friends with benefits with to the title of best friend.

To put it simply, Jungkook’s your platonic boyfriend of some sort. The both of you are dead sure that you don’t like each other in that way, and that soon enough, the two of you swear to flush out the libido so you’d stop hooking up.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’d stop cracking “that’s what you said” jokes and you teasing him about his whining.

The two of you are so compatible that it makes you forget about your dynamics with Jimin and how you’re even more compatible with him. His name’s only thrown around carelessly for good measure and not for drunk half-sobs from yourself.

It’s why Jungkook’s forcibly sat down on your floor as he eats his chicken wings, banned from the couch because you swear on his life that he’d regret his whole existence once he stains it. He has absolutely no choice but to pout and sit on your rug you haven’t vacuumed in awhile when he could easily buy you a new and better one if he does stain it.

You’re too engrossed over a movie because you don’t want to listen to Jungkook and his surprisingly strong moral compass, him already knowing that you’re deflecting this altogether so you could attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Ignoring Jimin doesn’t mean you’ve moved on from him — do you know that?”

More than he’d likely admit, maybe Jungkook does have a taste for the emotions and the dramatics. He’s always been more in tune with it, but it had no place in the real world. Instead he gets his fill and spends almost all of it with the people he’s comfortable with — his family and a select amount of friends.

You’re the closest thing in real life he could ever relate to a reality show (although you always deny that your life is as eventful as it is), and Seokjin’s running to replace you in your spot because he always seem to get him even though they bicker the most, always smiling with his hyung because maybe, just maybe, Jungkook likes being taken care of.

Of course he’s observant. He wants to know you emotionally because knowing you physically so well doesn’t exactly coincide with the fact that you’re moving away from that phase in your relationship per se. He should absolutely know what’s with you furrowing your brows outside of the bedroom, know what’s tinkering with his best friend’s mind and not only relate it to when he hits your sweet spot from down under.

As soft as he sounds in contrast to his obvious demeanor from being in such a place of authority and growing up with everyone’s eyes on him, Jungkook’s grown to take care of you. It’s massive growth in his part for the past month because he learned that maybe he shouldn’t really take all of his life alone. Maybe he needs someone.

He’s not rushing for marriage and to be honest, if only the two of you weren’t platonic and you weren’t the farthest thing from being in his likes in that way, that would be the only time he’d look at you beyond as a friend. Companionship doesn’t need to equate to romantic relationships and that’s perhaps one of the many things he’d been lacking.

You like Jungkook as an addition to your life. You’re no stranger to strikingly-handsome best friends — Taehyung and Seokjin and of course Jimin are the living proof, but only the last part is who you’re unsure of.

And maybe yes, maybe Jungkook’s right. Maybe you can’t always avoid Jimin forever but you know that but you’d die on that hill because you can’t see yourself caving soon. Missing him yet not wanting to see him are the things you juggle with.

“Either side with me or you can get out of my apartment.”

He sputters when you slap his hand away and take his portion for yourself and audibly complains of how come you can sit on your couch and he can’t, forgetting that it’s your apartment and your couch that he’s talking about.

You’re also forgetting that he’s your boss, your superior, and your CEO. Although it becomes official by Monday, you come to your sense and sheepishly hand him half of it back.

You’ve quit the bartender gig but that doesn’t stop you from dropping in to work sometimes. Because maybe Jaehyun misses you a little that he pretends not to see when you sneak in a drink or two free of charge, and Seokjin misses you and his pride nowadays doesn’t deny him from saying that he misses you.

Jungkook kinda panics at that because not only does he not want to go home to his massive penthouse by himself where he can eat all that he wants on his couch, but he also needs the company and watching a crappy movie with you would give him a good night’s sleep.

“Look, look! All I’m saying is, from dude to dude or whatever, is that anyone could see how much he misses you.”

It’s your turn to slightly panic and you don’t know what to take from that, visibly caught in a daze as Jungkook takes the sweet time to slither from the floor to the couch.

He’d know that actually, because two weeks ago when he came over after a long tiring day and he just wants to be buried in you, Jimin just happens to aiming for you door too.

Jimin was second-guessing the whole day whether he should come over to your apartment unannounced and how you’d take it, but once the urge to visit overpowers, he certainly didn’t expect this guy.

He didn’t come empty-handed and there’s an outrageously tiny boquet he’s sure that you’d like because you found them obscene and adorable right inside his backpack. He doesn’t have the slightest clue inside his mind why you haven’t been yourself lately, or maybe it’s just because he refuses to believe it as it is.

Jimin’s cocky at first and that’s what Jungkook can clearly see, not resisting the amused scoff leaving him at the aura this other dude gives off.

“You two fucking?”

Jungkook laughs at that, both because he’s taken in surprise and also because it’s the clear answer.

“You wanna know?”

Actually, he’s starting to realize that maybe fucking you isn’t the only thing he’d like to do. You honestly seem pretty cool for a person, and he wants to befriend you! You’re level-headed as far as he knows, and the argument that’s flowing in his head is clearly different from the one in Jimin’s.

The older boy’s visibly frustrated, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to be civil.

“Look, I don’t know-...”

To put it simply, Jungkook has the knack of messing with people from time to time. Now may not exactly be the best time for it but he still takes the opportunity, ignoring the way Jimin’s gaze at him burns him down enough.

“I’m down for almost everything. Though I’d have to ask if Y/N’s game for a threesome or-“

“God, no! I-...”

Jimin resists the urge to bite back a snarky remark, opting to crack his knuckles using the same hands as he wants to be as level-headed with this as much as possible.

Namjoon coming out of his own apartment would be very convenient right now to diffuse the tension even if he’d feel it himself, yet your blue-haired neighbor doesn’t come out any time soon and neither will any of them back down.

He’s still a reasonable distance away from Jungkook who’s still standing in from your door, staying there because this whole scenario intrigues him that he figures that his desperations could wait a few more minute.

“Has she been eating properly? Sleeping? Still working?”

That’s a surprise.

Jungkook’s pleasantly taken aback with Jimin’s sentiments when it comes to you, a gentle smile on his face that maybe he’s not as bad as he thought of him.

Granted that yeah, he’s not the one who harbors unrequited love for him unlike you, but from what he can observe does he think that sometime along the way — of you going out of your way to get out of Jimin’s, is his change of heart

“Mhmm. I think. I don’t exactly live here.”

That’s all the silent reassurance he needs that you and him aren’t a thing, the relief in his heart unexplainable because the last time he checked, friends aren’t supposed to be this relieved for the other’s lack of a partner. It’s almost as if Jimin wished and prayed that Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Cool.”

“Nice.”

He has his hands on his pockets as he twitches where he stands, Jungkook’s eyebrows raised because he knows all too well when someone’s hesitant to leave.

Jimin thinks it’s for the better if he retreats for now even if it pains him, planning to come back another day in better circumstances. Pondering about it, maybe this is a good thing. Keep his thoughts organized and his mind running, then try not to think about what’s probably going to happen as soon as Jungkook enters your door.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

This whole encounter truly cracks him up, finding it amusing as he leans against your door just to prof further.

“Searching me up? Dropped by the company? Don’t tell me you bought the latest magazine with my face on it.”

Jimin scoffs and he could tell that the both of them have atleast loosened up to each other and he doesn’t feel the urge to throw him down the floor like what he learned. But scoffing doesn’t take him away from the fact that yeah, okay, maybe he did exactly what Jungkook implied.

“Not like I wanted to spend my money on an overpriced issue. ‘Course I need to look out for Y/N.”

He pleasantly hums as he brings out his phone, about to text you to suddenly open your door right now with no questions asked. “That’s not your job.”

“And it’s yours?”

He shrugs at the condescending tone Jimin gives him, taking note to tell you about this interaction sooner than later.

“Never said it was mine.”

Jungkook backspaces his text until it’s blank, wanting to type a new one yet he stops in his tracks just to listen.

“Well then good. Because it’s mine.”

Jimin sounds so sure despite the ruffling his backpack gives when he readjusts it on his shoulder, swiping underneath his eye that he’s done out of habit and effectively taking out the last bit of eyeliner since he went here straight from a shoot.

You never actually said it was his, but he feels this obligation; this pull.

It’s a commitment he’s given himself, suddenly whispering to himself when all he’s done in the past minutes was to be accusatory with his sharp voice.

“It’s always been mine.”

bar this weekend? it’s also jin’s birthday soon and i’ve got some free shirts from this shoot that’s his size

we can put both our names on the card, i won’t tell :D

then split a sundae and some brownies, my treat!!

i’ll crash at ur place tho i still have a sweater or two left there

Jimin sighs to himself, making the makeup artist for a second that she’s the reason why he’s so huffy and the dabbing of the sponge to his cheeks don’t do anything to make the situation better.

He’s sighing, not because he’s run out of pride. Not because he used to find double-texting an ultra desperate move. Not because he now doesn’t spend a second longer thinking to send a message. No. He’s sighing because he feels that you’re so out of his grasp.

He can’t do anything about it currently, now that he’s in a shoot the director had to beg him to be in because in the past week, all that Jimin’s done is deny one offer after the other.

Normally he’d feel ecstatic that he’s becoming even more in-demand, but in truth, none of that matters when you’re the only one he’d be eager to have a meeting with. He’d take you over a designer shoot anytime without skipping a heartbeat, even if that means Yoongi, his agent, lose his shit over before curling up into a ball.

He’s booked yet he lets the chances slip from his fingers. Nothing could be any more important than you.

He’s hanging on by an insistent line of desperation actually, taking the time to skim through his phone’s camera roll and his Instagram archives to look for you, put you on his story, and leave people wondering.

If he was lucky enough then you’d add it to yours, and if he wasn’t then he’d be faced with nothing and a hundred other reactions that didn’t come from you, a full day left to soak in the pain that he doesn’t have your undivided attention.

Jimin knows that this was wrong -- knows that it’s selfish of him and his approach isn’t always the best, but he’s piss-poor clueless. His moral compass is clouded and just by you distancing yourself away from him is enough to drive him over the edge.

He’s so lost in you consuming his thoughts that sometimes he gets lucky, the frustration of trying to get where he went wrong and you went cold sets a distant and steely look on his face and it’s exactly what the photographer needed for the shoot.

You only feel half-sorry when your phone dings with multiple texts again from Jimin in the middle of trying on work outfits for your first day, despite your cold resolve that you want to keep up; and additionally, despite Jungkook’s insistence that you should wear the grey pencil skirt because it would be the perfect last outfit the two of you get to fuck each other in, and apparently, it should be in his office.

He’s unbearable, but he’s not half-bad you suppose.

It takes one beat, two beats before you will yourself to type out a reply, a little hitch in your breath and you’re not entirely sure if it’s just misplaced nervousness or because your high-waisted pencil skirt is literally too constricting and pencil-y for its own kind.

wish i could :(( would go to the bar at the weekend but i already promised another friend and he’s planned it weeks before

You already know that it’d be impossible and Jimin will most likely turn down the invitation altogether, even if what you said this time is entirely true.

Taehyung’s finally finished his studies abroad and he’s coming home at last, having already set up living arrangements and even interior designs months before he even got a ticket back home. One of the many plans he’s made was the both of you to go back to Jaehyun’s bar that was the witness to every miniscule thing (whether to celebrate or destress) back in college. And of course, since Tae exists that he has to be treated like royalty after having studied oh so long abroad, you’d have to treat and indulge him of course!

Those went along the lines of him saying he wanted to go to the aquarium, and then him pretending he didn’t plant that idea in your head, then breaking character for a brief second to tell you that you should surprise him with the tickets. 

great! he can tag along with us then

Jimin replies as soon as he got ahold of his phone the moment yet-another mundane shoot ended, not even an hour from when you last sent in your text that has him breathing sharply. 

It’s not a mistake with how he worded it, because after all, nobody could be anymore compatible with you, right? Jimin sometimes feels like he knows you more than he knows himself, and he could only assume that you think the same.

He’s not exactly pleased and he wouldn’t say that he’s a little hurt knowing it just wouldn’t be the two of you together nor you cancelling said plans with this other guy he’s highly suspicious of, even more suspicious than he could get with free shipping on a non-holiday.

Whatever it is you subject him to, it’s okay.

It’s okay.

Jimin would take whatever he can get.

“Promise me you’d behave.”

It’s an empty warning that goes through Taehyung, still grinning as he completely disregards what you’ve just said and leans to squeeze in your face once again.

He’s missed you — he truly did! Random things would remind him of you all throughout his time abroad, and the way he brought home souvenirs and goodies for you is all-telling. Well for one, he did bring home a plastic bag to you that he claims is filled with the air of where he stayed, but you’re still doubting if he’s just blown to it with his own breath. There’s the license plates and the mugs, and the more endearing ones were blankets and custom shirts he’s managed to snag for you.

The familiarity home brings gets him drunk and unsurprisingly, he’s already managed to befriend Jin despite knowing each other for less than an hour.

Tae just had to compliment Jin on his earrings, and he just had to squeal in delight because apparently you were too slow to notice them.

The two of you were already here in the bar an hour early before what Jimin said, and you decided on that with the reasoning that maybe you needed to be a little bit more intoxicated upon meeting him again after quite some time.

“It’s not like I bite. You told me we were similar or something like that.”

Taehyung finds it nice that you did get a best friend while he was away, because he’s the same with Hoseok who he’s also met and they just automatically clicked that they were roommates in the next week. He’s keen on you branching out, but he’s not exactly sure what to feel that he just had to be a little similar to this friend of yours.

He’s still your original, first, best close friend that no one can take the throne of.

“That is my point, Tae. The two of you are competitive over things and you haven’t even met each other yet.”

He hums at that, once again ignoring what you’ve just said as he pokes and pokes on your cheek.

Maybe it’s your bad luck, but you just have this pattern of having really handsome guys and only have them turn out as friends because neither have the feelings, and maybe you’ve also been so affection-starved that you think Taehyung poking your cheeks is domestic.

“Hmmm,” he hums indifferently, this time in a tune and even runs his thumb on your cheek incessantly, “what moisturizer do you use?”

It’s your turn to ignore him this time, having to physically shake Taehyung by the shoulder so he’d get to focus and won’t be in a trance with your moisturized cheeks that he likes attacking.

“Need to tell you some things,” his attention’s piqued yet he doesn’t jump into conclusions, his shoulder a very warm crevice that you surely missed which is why you’re immediately burying yourself into, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“I know there’s a lot of things.”

What Taehyung didn’t tell you is that he had some people then and there to after you, from some friends and to some family he sent every once in awhile and he simply couldn’t believe that you thought they were all coincidences and you just happened to bump to his mother in the grocery even if she lived in the next city.

“Tell me the most important ones in a single sentence. I’ll ask and we can catch up with everything later.”

He has a hunch on what said things could be but he doesn’t say a word, not sure if he already wants to precede wanting to know if you really do prefer cheese popcorn over butter and what would his reaction be if you-

“I just wanna tell you that Jisoo’s in town, I’m in love — used to, I think — with Jimin, and the two of them are together.”

Oh.

Taehyung stares off into the distance, his gaze into nothingness unrelenting are you’re actually nervous if you’ve broken him already.

Five beats, six beats, and Tae blinks. He’s finished trying to tie all the ends of your statement altogether and surprisingly, made peace with what he says a few seconds later.

“Doesn’t matter. Moved on long ago.”

Taehyung smiles but the rigidness of it isn’t his facial structure, but rather the slightest of pain behind it, an unexplainable glaze on his eyes that he blinks soon enough.

“W-well me too! I moved on too!”

His sudden confession, if it was even the truth in the first place, suddenly makes you do the same that it reminds him of an eager puppy he’s always wanted to get.

He snorts at that but doesn’t question the validity of what you’ve just said. Taehyung’s always known that you’re a bit fragile and he lets it pass — you atleast need something sembling control over your life.

“To let you know, I even sleep with-...”

“Oh my god, Y/N-...”

You’ve grown but you never really strayed, always wanting to prove something that you didn’t care about obviously giving too much information and crossing boundaries.

He’s giving you noogies and you let him, the tipsy lull of the shots that Jaehyun gave you taking its course.

Jimin’s more nervous than excited to stroll into the place, hands in his pockets that effectively crease his pants but he doesn’t mind.

It doesn’t take another second longer to find you even with your back turned to him, quickly weaving in between the sea of people to get to you. He’s probably gotten a curse or two, but none of those matter.

“Hey!” Jimin patters as soon as he sees the back of your head, taking you into a massive bear hug from behind you widen your eyes on.

He’s unbelievably gotten warmer than before, and you would’ve lost yourself if he didn’t squeeze you in earnest and if Taehyung didn’t take a once-over of him.

“Hi,” it’s the only one you could muster, two pats on his arm that you’d only reserve as a silent sign for him to let go and he knows that, but doesn’t take notice.

Taehyung’s the one that breaks it, a cold stare on Jimin that he only returns as icy.

“Park Jimin. Y/N’s best friend.”

You have no time to purse your lips over that, because Tae raises his eyebrows at it as if he’s either challenged or surprised, but he offers his hand nonetheless, noticing how much bigger his hand his that he instinctively squeezes it a little tighter like how he’d do with you.

And if Jimin is hurt, he doesn’t show it.

“Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s best friend since high school.”

That one’s something Jimin didn’t expect, head tilting to analyze if this Kim guy is actually serious and if he was, then how come you never told him?

His jaw clenches for a second, a forced smile on his lips that he’s practiced for his career day and night.

Not that it matters.

Taehyung and Jimin engage in conversation by themselves, and you don’t pay attention enough to know that their “conversation” is just them trying to boast, the other to be condescending, and trying to one-up each other in their knowledge about you.

“Bet you don’t even know Y/N’s favorite fruit.”

“What, as a child or the one she likes now? Better yet, do you even know the fruits that she hates?”

“Hmm, you mean practically almost everything? Nice try. Bet you don’t know how in second semester, she-“

“Took a tutoring class with Min Yoongi? The other intelligent dude that she used to have as a sworn enemy? Christ, it’s not like you even try.”

Your attention span has long been faded, instead turning your focus to Seokjin who hasn’t moved from his spot for washing the glasses for five minutes because he’s eavesdropping at the conversation, and he is certainly entertained.

“Are we getting wasted for your birthday?”

Jin has to blink away the sleepiness from his eyes that has since been disappearing ever since he dropped in to listen to the bickering, promising to himself that he should be well-rested and not have three hours of sleep for the days that you’re gonna come over the bar and have two best friends fighting over for a title they’ve made up themselves.

“Might be. Although I’m not inviting any of those two that look like they’re gonna claw each other debating what’s your favorite drink.”

Jin feels like a breath of fresh air, and in another tipsy haze, if only he had feelings for you and vice versa, he’d totally be your boyfriend by now.

You admire him but not in that way.

He fascinates you because you’ve figured that Jin’s always been more than well-off from the start. No one in their right mind would come to work in Gucci mules and in a Rolex wristwatch for their bartending job.

He’s explained it to you a couple of months back. Just so happens that Seokjin’s actually a heir to his dad’s company, and he just got this job to humble himself. Perhaps he’s the one born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had too much control, that he’s taken it upon himself to put him down a couple of notches.

That explains to how Jin just takes whatever schedule he can get and doesn’t complain, or to how him and Jungkook have always seemed familiar with each other and had too much in common, contributing factors were that he was Jungkook’s senior in business school and that they were born in the same elite circle. Also to how Jin applied to Jaehyun, and the guy must have found it ridiculous considering they both have the same situations, and immediately hired him right away.

Jin’s just always been there in a way, from how he’d offer you atleast half of his salary when you’re in a tight spot, to talking it out with Jaehyun when you insisted on coming to work with half a mind and a handful of cramps.

“You’re the best.”

That came out of nowhere, and so did the sudden poking of your finger to Seokjin’s bread smile, but he takes it.

Meanwhile, that’s gotten Jimin’s attention.

He’s been on edge and having Taehyung, who oddly seems similar to him, is insulting that he wants to deck him with his rings.

He doesn’t like feeling second. Doesn’t like feeling second to something he knew he’d be the first at, and the concept of not being the first meaning that you’re last makes him frown.

The thoughts consuming his mind are just too noisy to let go, taking advantage when Tae’s by the bathroom and Jin’s flagged down by a customer.

“Y’close with Taehyung?”

Jimin whispers as if it’s too shameful to be said aloud, and he thinks that it is, but you only roll your eyes at him playfully and it gets him in a deeper frown because you were only taking this lightly.

“I have other friends too, y’know.”

Yeah, he’s forgotten about that. And if he pretends hard enough, he could be the only one.

There’s no time to dwell on it, not when he’s already drowned in it too deep. He wants nothing but to be selfish and it’s a thought so massive that his ego seemed superficial.

“Jimin, you need to know something.”

There’s a light tap on his forearm but he was already long alert before that, his eyes widening with how you’re looking at him.

You’re looking at him like you used to and for some reason, he’s excited. He’s jittery and nervous at the same time, and he doesn’t know what for, but he wants you to say it.

“Y-yeah? What is it?”

His mind flashes back to when you confessed to him when you were drunk, and he thinks you’ve forgotten it. He’s forgotten about it too, actually. But the situation was so similar again but this time he wasn’t cowering from it nor laughing at your face.

This time he’s the one who’s nervous and hopeful, the tips of his fingers trembling as he looks deep into your eyes.

“Taehyung’s ex is Jisoo, alright? He already knows about the two of you. Just thought you needed the transparency.”

Your stern statement withers into a mumble at the end, Jimin’s stare so intense that it makes you cower.

Instantly, you think that he looks dejected because he’s already known for the start and the truth you’ve just dropped on him confirmed it.

Jimin’s absolutely crestfallen because it’s the furthest thing he’s ever expected for you to say, feeling your hand give him some consolation pats on his back.

One inhale, one exhale. Maybe the gnawing feeling of emptiness he’s feeling would be gone tomorrow, now that you’ve sprung an unknown truth of his current girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend happening to be your friend.

But that’s not the case.

“Yup. Needed that.”

It’s okay for Jimin to look for you.

It’s okay for him to only hum when Jisoo hugs him and buries her face in his chest. It’s not as warm as yours when you embrace him, and the scent that stays on his shirt isn’t of you. She doesn’t nudge her nose on the middle of his chest, and poke at his sternum and ask him to stop getting ripped.

It’s okay for him to only smile when she kisses him when used to giggle and actually love it. He’s never kissed you but he wonders everyday, and you’d probably taste as sweet as you look. If he ever did kiss you, you’d be his only fixation he can’t stop drinking out of.

It’s okay for Jimin to only smile when Jisoo tells him that she loves him, and if he ever does say it, there’s no I preceding the reiteration.

He’s not sure whether she means it or it’s out of habit, something developed when he said it so often and out of the blue. Even then, he can’t feel the saccharine feeling of being drunk in love anymore. Atleast Jimin knows that whenever you told him you loved him, you did actually mean it.

This is okay.

It’s okay for him to buy your perfume and spray it on his pillow, and if he closes his eyes hard enough, he could think that the comforter enveloping him is your warmth instead.

Jimin’s lost and he lets himself to be.

It’s okay to fall out of love with Jisoo.

Jimin from three months ago wouldn’t have thought that it was possible. In fact, he thought that it was the most impossible thing underneath the sun and he often confesses it to the moon, because he’s never fallen as hard.

Jimin from two months ago thought that he’s at his happiest, and everything that’s been happening ever since he’s laid his eyes on Jisoo is serendipity.

Jimin from a month ago thought that he was rotting from within. He felt as if he’s the most frustrated he’s ever been and it got him wondering whether his hair is actually dyed grey or if it’s from his stress.

Jimin now, is someone that has never been hurt before as he’s hurting now.

He finds himself in this same godforsaken bar he’s grown to both hate and love, and the start and end of what seems to be the things that make and break him as a person.

It’s clear as day when under the simultaneously soft and harsh lighting, that maybe Jisoo’s never been his.

No one between the two of them actually made the initiative to break up with the other, but it seemed like words weren’t needed.

She’s perhaps always belonged to Taehyung who has the tightest of grips on her waist. There’s no grinding, no libido. Embracing each other in the middle of a crowd tells him everything he needs to know.

Jisoo’s slipped away from Jimin’s grasp and into Taehyung’s who’ll she will always come back to. Tae never wavers and he’s holding onto her as if she’s his lifeline, and that wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

Jimin’s girlfriend is slipping away from him but it’s not what pains him.

Jimin’s eyes are bleary, and he’s unsure whether it’s because he’s drunk or because he’s crying. Whatever it was, it’s not because of Jisoo — it’d never been her.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you let him. He feels so defenseless and looks shattered that you don’t question him nonetheless, a magnanimous feeling of pity rolling from every circle you rub to his back.

“You’re really beautiful.”

He says it out of the blue as if it’s a confirmed thought, looking up at you in stride.

“Don’t say things like that,” you could only murmur as you try to look for a bottle of water within your reach, sooner or later having to haul Jimin home.

He doesn’t have a slightest clue why you’d dismiss it, but he persists as he always does.

“I’m really lucky to know you,” it’s an irrevocable fact with how he says it, making you think for a second if he’s actually sober and could come home by himself. That’s not any of his worries, because this time his mind works as fast as his mouth does. “But I think I’m the luckiest if I can have you.”

As Jimin comes to realize, it’s not Jisoo that he should’ve fallen for. He got burned as fast as he crashed, and it was love like that he’s always tried seeking.

It’s the easy short-lived warmth he got from a candle, but never the hard yet lasting warmth he got from a fireplace.

Your love for him was built steadily over the years and never all at once. It was from a spark to a fire in the making you took the chance being burnt from, and how long it was built meant no match to how short it was extinguished.

“Am I too late?”

Jimin’s as vulnerable as he can get that he doesn’t realize he’s already crying and it’s not drunken blues anymore.

He loves you so much and it takes an avalanche to make him realize that every moment with you shined.

His heart’s a muscle and he couldn’t believe that he’s only realized now that you’re it’s one true memory, having trained to be with you so much that no one could quite compare all along.

You don’t need anything to be the light; you don’t need to do anything to be the center of attention. It’s always been you yet he’s dismissed the thought that maybe it was just the bias of having known you.

But now, it’s about who he would and wouldn’t be if not for you.

Jimin can’t live without even the concept of you.

“If I told you that I’m falling for you, what would you do?”

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

[wandering-child-rp]

For the mini fic: what about number 7 things you said while driving for E/C 💖💖

“Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to. I could have gotten the bus.” Christine forced a smile onto her nervous face as Erik gripped the steering wheel a little harder. It was painful for him but he didn’t like the idea of Christine alone on public transport late at night.

The lights of the highway would bathe the saloon car into bright light every so often and gave them both some shadows to hide in. Christine put the lead in her stomach down to nerves.

“I don’t mind driving you. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed a favour.”

“Except I don’t have a car and I cannot drive.” Christine laughed, it was a one-sided friendship. It was strange really. He didn’t seem to have many friends and it was always Christine chasing him. Unless it was after a lesson because then Erik always had a fantastic dinner for her, a great bottle of wine and he was good company. There had been a while when Christine had developed a crush on him but it was never reciprocated. She’d given him a thousand opportunities and lingering a little longer than needed at the door waiting for a kiss that never came.

Her hands stretched over her thighs with a huff of air.

“Nervous?” Erik asked but desperately he didn’t want to hear Christine pour out her feelings about her new boyfriend. He hated the constant buzzing of her phone when they sat together or the way she’d smile and laugh at whatever was on that stupid screen.

“Yeah... a little. I wish he could have come back instead of me flying out to him.” Erik’s large hand landed onto Christine’s with a comforting squeeze.

“I know. It’s sad your missing the season opener.” In his heart of hearts, he wanted Christine to be sat next to him in the box. He wanted to twist the playbill in his hands over and over trying to pluck up the courage to slide his hand into hers. Exactly like it was now. His hazel eyes went wide and he whipped away the warmth all too suddenly leaving Christine confused again and feeling like an imposition.

It would have been nice to go with Erik. He was a gentleman truly. Yes, he was a little older than her but he was sweet and respectful. Meg kept saying it was just a crush on an older man who had that mysterious thing but Christine wasn’t so sure. She laughed at his clever jokes and dumb ones and could listen for hours to him play or dissect a film scene by scene. He lent her books that he thought she needed to read and empowered her beyond belief. Only when she needed it though did he interfere.

</i>

“Your favourite book is ‘Pride and prejudice? Did Mr Darcy like Elizabeth more because she was outspoken and her own woman?” Christine only nodded. “Then stop pandering to these idiots. Yes, take their direction but not when it cuts you down. If it doesn’t stop I’ll bloody tell them.”

“They’re bossy; not romantic though.” She said trying to lighten the atmosphere and stop feeling like such a silly little girl. Erik only raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue trying to keep his attention solely on the tv in front of them. “No one has ever declared their undying love for me.”

“Maybe if you followed the advice.” </i>

Erik remembered that night. The air hung thick as Christine ran her finger around the rim of her glass and the silence rang. He knew he loved her then. It was sudden and all at once; like drowning. He fought it but couldn’t swim to the surface again. It was fine when it was just lessons and direction but then they met up. She didn’t look at the mask but at Erik’s eye. He held his temper and the time it was ragged, she simply laid her hand on his shoulder and then it took all his power not to declare his feelings. Erik wasn’t stupid; she was young, beautiful and smart. Out of his league. Then, she suddenly had a boyfriend on the scene after a connection with an old friend. It was dreadful to watch them. Erik was waiting at the stage door with flowers but they ended up in the trash can when he realised he’d been beaten to the punch.

The pair came to the airport all too quickly. Christine methodically checked off her list for the hundredth time.

“Passport? Yes. Money? Yes. Ticket? Yes. Phone? Yes. Makeup bag? Yep. So, I’m all set.” Christine looked beautiful in her thick sweater, the mass of curls blow dried out by the hairstylist this morning and her body bouncing nervous energy as she smiled widely at Erik with the harsh light reflecting off his mask. “Vienna, here I come! City of opera dreams and I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Erik knew she wouldn’t come back. She had nothing in Paris anymore and her father was back in Sweden. He knew the allure of a new city and a new start but he’d miss her too much to admit. She was tense and clearly something was distracting her, as always, she just blurted it out after only a stern look from her mentor.

“He’s nice, right? He’s not texted much but now a driver is going to pick me up? That’s okay, isn’t it?” Erik wouldn’t dream of it. He would even let her take public transport alone and insisted she stayed in his guest room when he caved and shared a bottle of wine with her.

“Yes.” He replied monosyllabically before adding some care when he saw Christine's face drop a little. “Let me know when you get to his house at least. Goodbye, angel.”

‘Angel’ Christine melted just like when he’d coined the term back for her. She had not known his name when the first note had come or the loud shout across the stage from a fast-moving figure. Erik had told her to start an octave higher and, it had worked perfectly, she had hit the last note despite not knowing. Jokingly, she’d referred to him since as her ‘Angel of music’. It had become truthful as her broken heart had begun to mend itself.

“I can still call you, can’t I?” Erik noted she was picking at the handle of her bag and delaying for time. Nodding, Erik was about to splurge out everything but as he opened his mouth, some jackass behind him started to honk for the drop off space.

“Of course. Good luck with the audition. I’ll come to see you perform, I’m sure.”

He watched her walk away with the backpack that was his before, handbag and battered suitcase decorated with a floral print. It wasn’t medically possible but he was quite sure he could physically feel his heartbreaking. The tears clouded his vision so Erik gave up trying and pulled in for a drive-through coffee he’d normally baulk at. Red and white lights flashed overhead as planes carrying people off to their dreams, vacations and loved ones. The pain came in another crashing wave as he saw the coffee Christine got flash on the menu board; double-shot caramel latte. How was it possible for a coffee to cause a thousand stabs of ice to a heart. Erik reconciled himself to just wait out the hour and a half to watch her plane take off into the night sky. Then he’d go home and drink his body weight in liquor.

The whole plane groaned as the captain announced the delay. They’d sat on the tarmac for half an hour but it felt so much longer for someone as nervous as she was. Christine swore under her breath as she wrestled the backpack from the compartment. Why wasn’t Erik here? He never had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything.

1 Voice Note from ‘Angel of Music 🎶 (ERIK DESTLER). 20 minutes ago. Christine held the phone to her ear as she jostled her way through disgruntled people and his velvet tones spilled into her ears.

‘So, I’m just at Starbucks and I can’t not say this anymore. I’m so sorry to do this, Christine, and like this. Look, just don’t listen past this but let me do it. We can pretend it never happened. I really want you to be happy and I don’t care if that’s not with me but... fuck... I don’t even know why I’m doing this but... here goes. I love you. A lot. Always have and always will. You can’t blame me because look at you and look at me. I know you won’t feel the same but I care for you so much, Christine. My wretched heart will always belong to you. The one who saw through the bullshit. Don’t think nothing or no one is missing you in Paris because I will be. Don’t dwell on it though. Go be happy... If you want to come home or something goes wrong, I’ll buy your ticket home and be waiting to collect you. Anytime, any day, just call me. You can always call me. No questions asked.’ There was a noise of a steering wheel being slapped and Erik squeezing his nose and clearing his throat before a new note started. ‘Anyway, just call me if you need and, best of luck. I know you’ll be perfect and don’t take any shit from anyone. I’ll get over all of this and I’m sorry. Unless you didn’t listen to that message in which case, erm, send me a postcard kid.’

Christine felt like the world had fallen out from under her and anything she thought was true wasn’t anymore. Throwing her handbag onto the seat, she paced around and listened to the message again. Surely she’d misheard him.

Erik perched himself on the wing of his car. His third cup of coffee in one hand a cigarette in the other as he blew smoke into the sky and watched a plane take off. Her flight was seven minutes late but he saw the green tail knew it was her flight as the flight app hadn’t updated with the last-minute delay.

“Fucking hell, Erik...” he mumbled to himself and threw the butt of the cigarette away after only taking three drags. “Stupid bastard...”

Never before had he felt so deflated but with freedom now. It was out into the world regardless of his regrets or lack of. The words where just like the smoke; impossible to catch or recall in the night sky. It was what it was, Erik thought as he sat back in the driver's seat and drummed the leather wheel defeated. He sat there spinning his phone on his thigh whilst the radio played the weather forecast monotonously. He had muted Christine and unmuted her twice just in case she needed him suddenly yet he hadn’t looked to see if she heard the message before boarding. The timing was meant to be that she’d already have shut off her phone before getting on the plane. It was nearly an hour ago since he’d practically bled the words out of his mouth and tonight, he’d go home and get very drunk before sleeping in tomorrow and he’d remain drunk until the opening night of the opera in four days. Then, he’d force himself back together and to face the world.

“Erik?” That voice. His head whipped around quickly and pulled a muscle. “My- my flight got delayed.”

His face visibly dropped but Christine held up her phone with the screen illuminating the picture of the artwork in Erik’s corridor that she adored. It was a perfect metaphor. Even when it wasn’t about him, Erik was never far from her thoughts.

“I got your message.” The young woman was nervous and simply flying on instinct as the moments turned into seconds and she was closing the gap between them and then her body hit his and their lips met in a breathless kiss full of fire and longing. Christine’s smile was large and her eyes crinkled when Erik looked shocked and confused. Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her waist and one knee shook weakly. She was here, in his arms and smiling at the thought of him. “I wish you’d told me before.”

“I didn’t want to cloud our friendship.”

“Friendship? Erik, it was never just a friendship with us. It doesn’t take me five minutes to unlock my door and say goodbye in the car and I wanted you. I thought you could see that-“

In response, his lips met hers again as one palm cradled her cheek. The mask was unforgiving but Christine knew what was underneath already from coming over early months ago. He’d freaked out and was embarrassed but she handled it without a moment of thought.

“Are you staying?” Erik whispered with a voice dripping with dark honey and his nose rubbed against hers as Christine cuddled him close in the chilly night with her arms around his neck.

Several hours later and Erik was kissing Christine’s nude shoulder as he cuddled behind her still unable to sleep despite their activities. Christine hummed in happily nuzzled softly in a bed that smelt of his cologne. She couldn’t stop thanking delayed flights and voice notes of deep thoughts in cars. She could have missed out on her love so easily but as Erik’s chest pressed against her back in his bed, Christine knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

@sloanedestler

[whump-town]

A Wonderful Life

Why. Does. This. Fic. Just. Keep. Going.

I swear, the next chapter is the LAST chapter. I mean it. 

Warning: talk of a miscarriage 

Part one. Part two. Part three. 

Haley and Hotch were not the kind of couple that managed to get pregnant on accident. They tried for years, long before law school graduations, years with the district attorney, the academy, Seattle… Hotch was worming his way into a nice cozy profiling job when Haley got their first positive test. Dave was still around back then and he’d been overjoyed-- tripping over his own excitement at just the opportunity to see so much emotion out of his prodigy.

Two months later Dave was sleeping on the couch, the future ex-Mrs. Rossi in their bed, when he got the call. He’ll never forget how quickly Aaron worked to compartmentalize everything happening. Dave could hear him softly sniffling, rubbing at his face as he took back slip-ups. Brushing away any comfort Dave might try to provide. Considering the loss he just suffered as nothing-- not a baby, not even cells. Just a stupid, silly idea.

Haley stopped trying to getting him to grieve with her.

They stopped trying after that.

It’s entirely an accident. A slap to the face to the years they spent with their lives measured out on calendars, going to doctors, and throwing money at her uterus and his sperm to magically make them physically compatible. They had both grown desperate but in opposing ways.

He could not rest. Spent the nights tossing and turning.

Haley needed a child, wanted one with all her might. To love it and teach it all the best parts of the world. She wanted to see how something good and kind could come from the two of them. She held him close and imagined a child with his annoying curiosity and her stubborn streak. Of coming to greet him at the door and squint her eyes and inform him of the mischief his child has been into. So that he might spend hours telling that baby silly stories, catching them up way past bedtime having fallen asleep to his nth retelling of how they fell in love.

The announcement could not have come at a better time.

Haley had been at home when Jason Gideon made the call in Boston that would nearly kill her husband. She hadn’t felt it, no cosmic hand wrapping tightly around her heart to tell her that the other half of her soul, the only person she’s ever loved was in mortal peril. It had been Derek Morgan, standing numbly in an isolated hospital wing, watching her husband’s body be shocked back to life, having air forced into his lungs that had been her telling moment.

And there she was with the child she thought she might never have and a dying husband.

She put an expiration date on both their heads and waited. Prepared to bury her husband and lose the only part of him she has the ability to protect. But the days crawled by and she found herself listening to that little baby’s heartbeat, the same slow pace as Aaron’s. Neither died.

But Jack’s birth could only hold off Aaron’s inability to self-preserve minimally. He’d live to see his son’s birth and Haley was certain he’d get himself killed before Jack’s fifth birthday.

Jack’s developmental delays were a point of much dispute, having a lot to do with Hotch’s denial. Hotch had been the smallest in his class, in his age bracket until ninth grade-- spent years as skinny as a rail and not meeting healthy markers for children his age. Haley had, mercifully, bitten her tongue and hadn’t reminded him that why Jack is small and missing delays have nothing to do with why Hotch had. Jack isn’t being abused at home… he’s just autistic.

Their marriage, no matter how strongly they still loved each other, was going down the drain. The news of all this had been a cross of startling and... about as hard to miss as the broad side of a barn.

“Two is-- Two is a good age to get diagnosed.” Reid, like Emily and Morgan, mistook Hotch’s primary concern. Saw his disappointment, his unease and pinned it on Jack’s diagnosis. The autism. And Hotch had smiled, calmly allowing Reid a moment’s tangent to get out what he needs to say. To try and convince Hotch that autism isn’t the end of the world-- because Reid can’t handle it. If Hotch leaves, if Hotch disowns his own son-- the way Reid’s own father had not long after his own “off the books” diagnosis had been given-- he’s not sure he can handle that.

“Reid,” Hotch had softly, placed his hand on Reid’s arm. The faintest touch. “I love Jack. I’m-- I’m not the best father but…” He won’t leave. The autism he can handle, Jack’s always been Jack and that changes nothing but finally provides some answers. Some guidance where’d they had been left blind.

It felt like Hotch was never going to be given a second chance to prove himself wrong. They seemed to turn around and there George Foyet was. Knife in one hand leaving behind a zombified Hotch and Jack. They watched, unable to do anything to help. Jack wanted Hotch and only Hotch but it was like just seeing the boy physically hurt Hotch.

“He’s late.”

They all look forward to Wednesdays. The two hours that they have to just sit and relax-- to let Jack entertain them with his many interest and love for random things he finds on their desks to play with. So they don’t take too kindly to Hotch coming in late and stealing their Jack time.

Emily glances at the clock at the bottom of her computer screen and shakes her head. Her stomach sinks as she realizes that they’re not just late, they’re nearly forty-five minutes late. Hotch abides by a strict, self-imposed schedule one made of utmost importance by Jack’s own intermingled schedule. She rolls her eyes, though, at Morgan rather than admit that it scares her just a little.

“It’s been raining,” JJ reminds them confidently. “I’m sure they’re out catching frogs in the parking lot or looking for washed-up rocks.”

Frogs. Right, Jack loves frogs. He hates to hold them but thoroughly enjoys chasing them and watching his father squirm and fight to hold them. It is pretty funny though, Aaron Hotchner scrambling to keep a tiny frog in one of his hands. Ending up slightly mud-stained, disheveled all to wrangle a frog.

It’s… humanizing (cute but she wouldn’t be caught dead calling the likes of dumbass Aaron Hotchner “cute”).

Morgan yawns, stretching out his arms high above his head. “I’m sure we have nothing to worry about,” he shrugs, tampering off the end of his yawn with the back of his hand. It’s far more likely that they’re getting breakfast-- the two of them love muffins. It wouldn’t be the first time that Hotch has stopped to get breakfast. If that goes in their favor, he’ll probably bring them some too. That’s not to say they’re not walking down the hall right now, Hotch trying to be as patient as possible as Jack hops down the hall.

Besides, if there was anything to worry about Dave would have gotten a call. If not for the simplicity of one of Hotch’s stories-- some long-winded, exasperated thing about Jack weighing down his pockets with rocks, Jack having a bad morning and he’s not going to be in for a few more minutes because he had to clean oatmeal off of himself and kitchen floor. Then, at the very least, something.

Yet, they have only radio silence.

Which is good.

Probably.

“Any word from Monsieur Crabbyass this fine morning?”

David Rossi has always been fascinated with the relationship between Emily and everyone else on the team-- though his typical interest is in the utter insubordination that occurs so effortlessly and flawlessly between Hotch and Emily. Naturally, it’s on his mind. He can’t consider the week complete until they’ve both stormed into his office to whine about the other. It makes him reconsider why came back.

It’s for that fact that he knows this is going to crush her the most.

Morgan and Hotch go about like a match to a candle wick. Burning one another to the ground. Things between them don’t go unsaid. If there’s an issue they get to it and neither can walk away until their hands are clear.

JJ and Hotch make the perfect parental tag team. So much of what they do is hidden but the thoughtless, mechanical way the two work together is never taken for granted. If shit hits the fan, those two are who you want.

Garcia and Hotch may not get a lot of time but they know she’s his soft spot.

Reid and Hotch are the strangest carbon copy of one another venturing to having a little too much in common to nothing at all.

Emily and Hotch have far too much left unsaid. Tension and, what he believes, to be penance for the courses of action they have both taken. In her inability to trust the team, running from them and forcing Hotch to kill her to protect her. His distance from them, which she has always read as distrust and tinged with his ego. Neither are as simple as they prefer to pretend to perceive themselves to be.

Not as mysterious either.

Leaving him, standing on the catwalk watching her little joke hit the others with fond laughter. Monsieur Crabbyass. That’s a good one and Aaron is probably never going to hear it. Never clench his jaw and glare to the side, forcing himself not to react and admit that it’s actually kind of funny.

Dave watches over them for another moment, taking in their innocence. Emily still snickering at her own joke, Garcia and JJ both shaking their heads at her. Morgan shakes his head but there’s no hiding his own amused smirk.

“He’s not coming in.” Dave clears his throat, “there was an accident on the way here this morning.” He can’t even get out what he needs to say, they’re already trying to talk over him. “Jack alright,” he’s standing there, trying to get his piece out. “Jessica’s already made her way to the hospital, sitting with Jack. He’s hardly got a scratch.”

There’s general ease that settles them with the relief that Jack is fine.

“And Hotch?”

On life support.

Laying in the intensive care unit with defibrillator sticky pads on his chest, waiting for the next episode of tachycardia to have the nurses and doctors of the unit holding their breath. Wondering just how many more times his body can take them beating the shit out of it or if he’ll come back this time.  How many more times can he toe that line before he can’t come back?

“I--” Derek is standing numbly at his desk. Arms limp at his side. “What are-- Is Jack-- Jack is alright? How? Can we-- Will they let us back-- back to see him? They have to let us back to see him, right?”

To see what?

That his body is laid out on a stretcher bare of blankets and pillows. Neck held still by a brace. Jaw titled back and pale, cracked lips stretched around an incubation tube. The hiss of which fills the small empty room. To see that he’s covered in crisp white bandages, wrapped delicately around the purple bruises up and down his ribs. His unstable, flail chest.

To see the x-rays?

To have a doctor stand and explain the damage, the history of Aaron Hotchner’s bones. Old cracks and improperly healed aches. By forty, it’s easy to assume that the ghosts of childhood have long since lost their grasp, but today they nearly cost him his life. A decade worth of cheap shots to his sides, his father’s angry tyrannical downpours wore down the bones.

When he hit the steering wheel, those old bones never stood a chance. They gave out on him.

And what of Jack?

It’s one thing to have those words written out “In the event of my death…” but those are just words to be said. Never meant to be used. Jessica doesn’t understand all of Jack’s charts. She won’t ask him what color his socks are and let him weigh his pants down with rocks and carry him when he gets tired. She won’t get muddy and slimy to chase down frogs. But Jack and everything he owns (aside from some silly knick-knacks and stupid things he thought better to go to Morgan or maybe Garcia) go to Jessica Brooks.

In the event of my death…

“If he’s still alive by the time that we get there… it’s unlikely that they let anyone aside from family back.”

They stand in the silence of that. Of the implication. Does a single one of them know how to do any of this without him? Morgan doesn’t want to be fucking Unit Chief. He got his taste, he’s done. And, the most surprising part is that the somber, truth omission of what they are all thinking comes from Emily Prentiss. Righting her shoulders like she’s standing in front of the nurses and defending them right now.

“But we are his family.”

[rohad93]

Werewolf in the hospital

As far as Halloween’s go, this one could have been better for her. It wasn’t often she ended an evening sitting in the ER, dressed as a werewolf, with a broken nose, but she couldn’t say now that it didn’t ever not happen!

The night had started fun enough. She’d been out with Gus and Willow at a party being thrown at one of their college’s many fraternity houses. One that was affectionately referred to as the ‘Illusion coven’ around campus because of its many resident students that were known for their penchant for pranks and being able to disappear without a trace when the heat was turned up in response, as well as a large handful of their students that were also members of the school’s ‘magic appreciation club’.

They of course, always threw the best parties, especially at Halloween.

This one had been no different. The music and lights could be seen from about two blocks away. There was a long line of students waiting to get in the front door, but luckily for her and Willow, Gus was a member, which got them through the door instantly.

The place was jammed packed when they finally arrived and Luz could barely hear herself think over the music that was trying to vibrate her teeth right out of her skull, but that didn’t stop her from making a beeline straight for the dancefloor with her friends in tow for the first hour. Excessive amounts of energy made dancing the perfect activity for her, even if she generally lacked any grace or coordination.

It was weird to finally be at one of these raging school parties after all the ones she had been purposely excluded from in high school.

After four years of being an outcast in high school and spending most Saturday night’s alone, watching anime or writing fanfiction to fill her spare time, she hadn’t expected her social life to really take off in college, though ‘take-off’ might have been a strong word for it. She still only had a handful of friends, but it was still a far cry from how she’d been a loner in high school.

Leaving to go to college out of state had given her an opportunity to start new, though she was still the same old Luz she had been her senior year, there were so many more people at her college with varying interests and backgrounds than her small-town high school where everyone had known each other since grade school and pretty much stuck together from the first grade on.

You release one nest of spiders at nap time and suddenly you’re branded for life as ‘that weird kid’. She didn’t like to admit how much that had really bothered her when she was a kid, but it just became the norm as she got older. It didn’t stop her enjoying life as much as she could, even if she had gotten thrown out of prom her senior year for wearing an otter onesie.

It was still nice to actually have friends now, one’s she could study with in the library or just have lunch with and not blink an eye when she said something totally bizarre, or at least bizarre by most people’s standards.

Meeting Willow, her dorm mate, and then Gus through her, had been a lifesaver and through them, she had met other student’s, some of which she shared classes with, like Viney, who despite being an upperclassman was only now taking her English comp basics so they worked together on group assignments, she was funny and easy to get along with. It didn’t take long for Luz to count her, along with Gus and Willow as her closest friends.

Viney was also dating Emira Blight, one of the infamous Blight twins, who were also members of the ‘Illusion Coven’, so she knew Viney was probably somewhere here among the many bodies packed into the large house, though the chances of running into her were slim.

She wasn’t at all surprised to see the copious amounts of alcohol that was everywhere either, that was one thing about college that TV had gotten right. College students drank; a lot.”

She watched three students doing a keg stand till beer squirted out of the guy on the kegs’ nose.

She snorted, grinning to herself and showing off the mouthful of sharp canines she had spent a good hour in the bathroom getting molded to fit too her teeth. She was, of course, the definition of a broke college student, attending entirely on a full scholarship, cause when you don’t have anyone to hang out with, you might as well study, and it was finally paying off, but she still had little in the way of personal spending money given her measly paycheck from working part-time at ‘The Owl House’ An owl themed diner just off campus owned by the most eccentric woman Luz had ever met, did not make for the most extravagant costume. But she made do with an old red flannel, ripped jeans, and some dollar store pointed ears and face paint. She had splurged a little on the fake teeth, she’d reuse them next year, werewolf was a classic after all.

Despite her less than ideal paycheck, Edalyn Clawthorne, or Eda ‘The Owl Lady’ as she was known around town, was good to her, letting her eat and drink for free or study there when she wasn’t working, and honestly, Luz kind of wanted to be Eda when she grew up. She was self-assured and didn’t care what anyone thought about her, not to mention surprisingly foxy for her age.

“You guys want something to drink?” Gus yelled at her and Willow to be heard over the pounding music and voices.

“Is there anything without an octane rating?” Willow questioned, as she watched an upperclassman drinking something straight out of the bottle at maximum speed.

After all, she and Willow were only nineteen, and Gus seventeen, he was crazy smart and had skipped a couple of grades. Luz had never had much interest in drinking, despite Eda sometimes offering her a drink from her flask with the Owl etched into the side.

She didn’t even know what was in it, only that Eda referred to it as “Mama’s magic Elixir’. She always said no and Eda would shrug and tip it back till it was empty.

“There’s punch, but I’d still be careful. Chances are good it’s already been spiked.” He shrugged.

“No thanks,” Willow shook her head and turned to look at something, the glitter on the wings of her fairy costume catching the bright colored lights overhead. She still hadn’t figured out what Gus was supposed to be. He was wearing a long red tube with a smiley face on it and long sleeves that went down to the ground that he flung about in excitement.  

“I might take my chances on those snacks!” Luz shouted, eyeing the array of treats laid out on the table for the taking. She was willing to bet no one had spiked the cake and it looked really good from here. Gus grinned and Willow rolled her eyes, smiling. Anyone who knew Luz for any amount of time knew she had a voracious appetite and an even bigger sweet tooth.

“Yeah, okay, just don’t eat everything.” Gus laughed at her.

“No promises!” She grinned back before moving across the room, trying to slide between the bodies that packed every square inch of the place and get to the refreshment table. People were moving in every direction around her as the music blared and the lights flashed, it was a little disorienting actually, but she had her eyes on the prize.

She had just made it to the table when the crowd surged and sent her careening into someone else standing there, slamming into their back and making them spill their drink.

“Watch it, nitwit! A voice growled at her before stopping. “Oh, hi, Luz.”

Luz blinked, realizing who exactly she had just slammed into, and swallowed thickly.

Amity Blight, who she did not exactly start off on the best foot with when classes had started a few months ago but now had a much more friendly relationship with.

Amity Blight, the smart and talented girl she shared creative writing and literature appreciation with. Amity Blight, who Luz had a teeny, tiny, minuscule... huge, crush on.

Amity Blight, who was dressed prettily as a witch, complete with black and green striped leggings and a pointed black hat and, who she had just slammed into and spilled her drink on.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Amity!” Luz grimaced at the wet spot now in the middle of Amity’s black blouse.

“Oh, it’s okay, really, no big deal!” Amity waved a hand, snatching a napkin off the table and dabbing at the spot.

“You sure? I could go...get you something or…,” she started, unsure.

“NO, no it’s fine, really…,” she insisted and Luz frowned. She must have embarrassed the other girl, her face was tinged red as she wiped at the spot, and was trying not to look Luz in the eyes.

‘Mierda’ Luz cursed under her breath.

Clearly, Amity did not want to talk about the spill anymore, so Luz cleared her throat, drawing the young woman’s gaze.

“What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the… party type,” she asked and Amity rolled her eyes and Luz’s chest seized up, wondering if she’d insulted her until Amity spoke again.

“I’m not, but my brother and sister are members here and all but forced me to come tonight,” she huffed. “I’d much rather be back in my dorm, studying for our quiz in lit appreciation Monday and not getting a headache from this music.” she frowned and Luz blinked.

“Oh, Mierda! I forgot about the quiz!” Luz slapped her hands to her cheeks and Amity blinked at her before laughing.

“It was written on the board yesterday and the professor sent out an email reminder this morning.”

“Ugh, I didn’t check my email today,” she groaned, squishing her cheeks.

“Well, you still have tomorrow to study,” Amity offered.

“There was so much material to cover though…” Luz groaned. “I’m not gonna sleep all weekend, I’m going to have to cram till I push out every memory of the third grade just to make room for it all.” She frowned, already thinking about all the coffee she was going to have to drink before Monday morning, and on Monday morning.

Amity was biting her lip, thinking, but decided to take the chance.

“You can come study with me. Only if you want that is!” she quickly finished, pushing a stray strand of dyed, half mint, green, half auburn hair behind one of her ears.

“Really?” Luz asked.

“Yeah, I was just about to get out of here anyway, I’ve had enough of the party…” she said, looking around at all the people crowded into the room.

“Yeah, I’d love to!” Luz jumps on the opportunity, cause why wouldn’t she. “Oh, I came with Gus and Willow…” she remembers her friends somewhere in the house.

“Oh…” Amity seems to deflate a little at that. “Maybe another time?”

“No, it’s all good! I’m just gonna go tell them I’m headed out. You, uh, wanna meet outside?” she asks and Amity is smiling at her again and Luz just wants to melt into a puddle on the floor as those amber eyes stare back at her

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you.”    

“Great! I’ll be quick,” she promises as she runs back out into the crowd, looking for her friends. It takes her about ten minutes to find them in the living room.

“Hye guys, is it cool with you if I head out?”

“Where are you going?” Willow questions her.

“I ran into Amity, who reminded me we have a quiz in lit appreciation Monday and I really need to study and she offered to study with me, so…” she trails off, seeing the look Willow is giving her. The horticulture student is very aware of Luz’s crush, despite her never really saying anything about it. She does not count gushing to the shorter girl about how smart and pretty Amity is as ‘saying anything about it’.

“Why would you wanna leave a party to study?” Gus makes a face and Willow smirks.

“I think it’s more about who she’s studying with…” she says knowingly and Luz blushes as Gus blinks at her, confused.

“It’s cool, Luz. Go study with Amity.”

Luz does not care for the knowing way Willow says the other woman’s names, with a teasing lilt, but she’s not concerning herself with that for now.

“Thanks, guys, I’ll see you later,” She calls, already running toward the front door.  

She doesn’t immediately see Amity, in fact, the yard in front of the house is empty, everyone inside.

Luz frowns, looking around. Did she get tired of waiting?

Her chest aches a little at the thought, shoulders slumping, and is just about to turn around and go back in the house when she hears something that does not match the thumping bass of the music inside, voices. She walks quietly around to the side of the house and peeks around the wall curiously, if college has taught her anything it’s that there are students making out anywhere at any given time and not to look too closely into dark corners where sounds are coming from.  

Her eyes widen as she spots Amity right away, her back is pressed against the wall and a guy dressed in a toga is standing in front of her, leaning down over her. He’s not particularly big, but he’s standing uncomfortably close with his hands wrapped around both of her wrists, hands fisted, Amity is scowling angrily up at him. Luz’s brows furrow between her eyes and she frowns, walking over quickly.

“I said let go!” Amity snaps, trying to rip her hands free from his grip and he’s so close she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Come on, just a little kiss, it’s Halloween…” He leans forward and Amity turns her head away,  sneering.

“I don’t care if it’s fucking Christmas!” she snarled. “I said no!”

“Hey!” Luz shouts standing just a few feet away now. “She said no!” she growled, lips pulled back over her fangs.

“Luz!” Amity stares at her wide-eyed.

“This is none of your business bitch, go howl at the moon,” he slurred before turning back to Amity and yanking on one of her hands. She yelps in pain as he jerks her and Luz is moving forward before she even knows it and her fist is connecting with the side of his face.

He goes fumbling backward, releasing Amity as he stumbles to his butt in the grass.

“Santa mierda, eso duele!” she hissed, shaking out her screaming hand.

“Come on!” Amity grabs her other hand and starts to pull her away but then the guy is scrambling to his feet and coming at her with a strangled yell and Luz does the first thing she can think of, she uses their joined hands to yank Amity behind her and then the guy’s fist connects with her face and her world an explosion of pain and crunching noises.

She’s only vaguely aware of Amity screaming her name as her back hits the grass and everything goes black for a second but then she’s quickly pulled back to consciousness by his hand fisted into the front of her shirt and her fight or flight instincts kick in and she’s swinging wildly at his ugly mug as quickly as she can.

Her hands protest every hit that connects with his stone-hard face but she doesn’t stop and he’s swinging back, but she can hardly feel it over the constant pain radiating from her nose through her whole body.

She just clenches her eyes shut and keeps swinging, punching him as hard as she can, but then there are more voices and two large burly guys have him in a stranglehold, pulling him off her.

Amity had dashed back inside to grab the houses ‘bouncers’ standing just inside the door.

“Oh my god, Luz!” Amity holds her hands over her mouth as she kneels onto the ground next to her, looking over her face in horror.

“Ugh…” is all she can manage and then Amity is grabbing her hand and helping to her feet and dragging her across the yard, fumbling, panicked through her purse before finally pulling out her keys. She unlocks the passenger side door of a small black sedan and carefully pushes Luz into the passenger seat.

“Keep your head tilted back,” she says before closing the door and hurrying around to the other side, and jumping in the driver’s seat.

It’s only now that Luz realizes she can taste blood and reaches up to touch her top lip and pulls her hand back to see her fingers covered in the crimson liquid.

‘Well, that’s not good,’ she thinks, but it definitely explains why her face hurts so bad.

She tilts her head back but can feel it dribbling down her chin and neck as Amity pulls away from the curb, much faster than the speed limit, Luz is sure as the tires squeal.

She runs her tongue across her teeth and feels a distinct lack of a point and groans, making Amity glance at her.

“I think I swallowed one of my teeth…,” she mumbles more to herself but Amity’s pained expression turns into a grimace as they speed down the road.

Which was how she found herself sitting next to her crush in the ER with her head tilted back and the front of her once white shirt stained crimson as her nose continues to bleed.

Halloween is apparently a very popular time for injury because it’s crowded and takes two hours for someone to see her, while they wait Amity fills out her paperwork for her.

“Birthday?” she asks glumly, and Luz tells her. She hasn’t said much since they left the party, she looks miserable, and that’s coming from someone who is doing their best impression of a fountain with her nose. She can’t stand that face Amity is making. “Allergies?”

“Lactose intolerant, so no milk IV’s,” she jokes, despite the incredible pain in her face. Amity starts to write but then stops, blinking, before turning to look at her grin.

“How can you joke? You just got beat up… because of me.” she frowns.

“No, I got my block busted because some guy was being a pendejo.” Luz frowns. “It wasn’t your fault, and I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him….do whatever he wanted!” she scowled, throwing up a hand.

Amity is looking at her with an unreadable expression, but before she can say anything they are calling her back.

“Oh goody, my turn.”

It takes forty-five minutes for them to tell her that her nose is broken, which she could have told them when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, a bloody mess and her nose pushed to the side at an odd angle. No wonder Amity had been so panicked and run all those red lights.

Putting it back in place is… not fun, and then the doctor stuffs gauze in her nose and splints the outside, telling her she needs to keep the gauze in for a week and then sends her on her way with a prescription for antibiotics and some mild painkillers.

Amity is waiting for her when she comes out.

“What did he say?” she stands as Luz walks back out into the waiting room and frowns at the splint on her face.

“It’s broke.” she shrugs and Amity grimaces as they walk out back to the parking lot.

“I am so sorry, Luz.” Amity frowned. “If I’d just…”

“Hey,” Luz cut her off, she wasn’t having any of that. “I told you, it’s not your fault, technically, I started that fight… didn’t win it, but I started it,” she laughed to herself.

“You are surprisingly chipper for someone who just got their nose broken…” Amity can’t help but smile a little at the other woman’s cheery disposition.

“It’s not the first time I’ve broken something you know. The first time someone helped me along, but hey! Besides, I helped you, and that’s good enough for me.” She smiled as they stopped next to Amity’s car. Amity has a small smile on her face as she unlocks the car. “I hope this is healed up by thanksgiving or my mom is going to have a cow…,” she mumbled as an afterthought. Amity giggled to herself.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The drive is mostly quiet until they pull up into the parking lot in front of Luz’s dorm building. Willow is probably already back in their room.

“Do you think this will get me out of the quiz Monday?” Luz wonders aloud as she unbuckles and Amity laughs.

“Doubtful... but…, if you’re up for it, I feel like I should at least treat you to breakfast or something for what you did… we could study after?” she offers.

Luz blinks at her, finally realizing what exactly is going on. She was certain before when Amity had asked her to study that she was just being nice, but the way she looks now, fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel and glancing at Luz out of the corner of her eye, she finally catches on and curses how oblivious she is at times.

“Like… a date?” she asks uncertainly and Amity flinches.

‘Y-Yeah.” she jerks her head in a nod and Luz is silent for a few seconds too long it seems. “If you don’t want to…!”

“No! No I do, want to go on a date with you, yes!” Luz nods, too fast, it makes her nose throb.  

“Really?” now Amity is turned to look at her, eyes wide, with a hopeful glint.

“Yes, absolutely.” Does she sound too eager? Probably, but she does not care, especially when Amity’s face lights up with that adorable little smile she’s seen on her face once or twice before in class when they talked and now she feels even dumber for not catching on quicker.

They plan for Amity to pick her up here at nine tomorrow morning and then Luz opens the door, but Amity stops her.

“Thank you, Luz… I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up...” Amity says finally.

“Amity Blight, I will be your fearless champion anytime you need me too!” she declares, a fist on her chest. The bandages and bloodstains, as well as her nasally stuffed up voice, diminishes the gesture some, but Amity smiles adoringly at her none the less.

She hesitates a second before reaching across the console to lay a hand gently on Luz’s cheek before leaning forward to quickly kiss the other. Luz’s face erupts in red as her heart hammers in her chest.

“My fearless champion,” she agrees, cheeks a bright pink.

Luz’s face erupts in a grin.

Maybe the evening started poorly, but she can’t find it in herself to mind one bit.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XCIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This has nothing to do with the story I just want to say I believe in Bi!Fred Weasley supremacy -Danny

Words: 2,621 

Series’ Masterlist

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Listen to: This kiss -By Faith Hill

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Unwanted Attention.

Their little trip to the kitchens ended up in a bad note when they found Winky drunk in butterbeer and Hermione broke, yelling to all the house-elves about their rights. 

Least to say they were unpleased. They kicked them out, Ron was so angry at Hermione for ruining his chances at getting more free food that they didn't stop bickering for the rest of the day.

Normally, Mel and Harry would've complained and roll their eyes, but considering this as a huge opportunity to finally spend time alone, they left the angry pair in the common room and went to the Owlery, where they sent a package filled with wonderful food to Sirius.

They stayed there for a while, leaning on the windowsill and talking. Closer to each other as the night started to fall.

"I wish things were a little bit different," Mel said wistfully. "I would take you on pretty dates, not caring about useless rumours..."

"I don't want dates, I only care about being with you," Harry shrugged, playing with her fingers. "Everything else doesn't really matter... unless it does to you?"

"Not really...  I'd love to have a quieter time in school, but that's impossible when you're here," She teased. "You bring nothing but trouble, Potter."

"You like it, though," He smirked. "At least a bit, if you've stuck around for so long, I doubt it annoys you that much..."

"What d'you want me to say?" She scrunched up her nose, knowing the question would only make him even keener to tease.

"I'd love to hear that you like me," He replied boldly. "Don't you like me?"

She caught his hand playfully and stroked the back of it, humming to herself.

"Do you?" She finally questioned.

"I like myself plenty," Mel slapped his arm playfully and he laughed. "I fancy you a lot."

"You know," She looked away. "I really like this weather."

She fixed her eyes on Hagrid digging outside his cabin, perhaps planting something.

"I like you," Harry beamed, his hand closing around hers. "I also like to say that I like you, feels good to admit it."

"Been dreaming about this for a while, have you?" Mel smiled, still not looking at him. She was trying to keep her composure, even though the air felt charged and it was getting harder to breathe.

"You haven't?"

Madame Maxime got out of her carriage and walked to Hagrid, seemingly trying to start a conversation.

"Not at all," She said absently. Harry stiffened beside her and she giggled.

"You're funny..." He pouted. Unexpectedly, he reached for her waist with his free arm and pulled her closer. "Really, you crack me up."

Hagrid responded to whatever the woman was saying but he didn't talk much. In the end, the woman walked back to her carriage looking defeated.

"I think Madame Maxime regrets what she did to Hagrid," She said. Harry, who'd been half-looking at the scene as well as shamelessly flirting with her, nodded with very little interest.

"Guess she realized how stupid it's to worry about what others think..."

"Isn't that kind of the same to what we're doing?" Mel frowned.

"What d'you mean?"

"We're hiding from all of our loved ones. We care about what others think."

Harry came out of his daze then, blinking in confusion.

"This is different. We're not hiding because we're afraid, we do it 'cause we know Skeeter would bring it out of context."

"Okay then, why do we hide it from Ron and Hermione?"

"Well," Harry looked away. "I don't know..."

"We know they'd be happy for us..."

"Yeah."

"Then why do we hide it?"

"We don't want to ruin it," Harry shrugged. "You know what I mean, I won't try to explain it."

She smiled at how easy it was to talk to Harry now that they knew about their feelings.

"You know, sometimes you can be clever..."

He scoffed, shaking his head in amusement.

"Look at you, all cute and frustrated," She cupped his face with her free hand and squeezed his cheek lovingly.

"Quiet, Mellow."

However, before she could decide whether or not to be quiet, Harry leaned further and kissed her.

Mel wasn't expecting to see any reaction from her classmates when the article about Hermione and Harry's relationship spread around school. Few people believed it, but the most they would do was stare, wondering how come Harry was so comfortable around her despise his 'heartbreak'.

She knew –because Erick told her– that most people were confused, they'd thought that Harry and Mel were the ones dating. Now that those rumours had been killed by the article and none of the people involved were interested in clearing things out, the interest has worn out, most students moved on; Harry and Mel were being less watched, which gave opportunities to sneak away from prying eyes more often. However, they completely forgot that it wasn't only the Hogwarts students receiving these articles and reading them in their spare time. On Monday morning, they got a very unpleasant surprise.

Hermione mentioned a subscription to the Daily Prophet and was waiting to get it when an owl came down to their table.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry when four other owls landed next to the one.

"What on earth—?" Hermione took one of the envelopes. Mel took another and examined it. "Oh really!" Her friend scoffed.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It's — oh how ridiculous —"

She handed the letter to Harry, it was a bunch of letters from a newspaper cut out and rearranged messily:

'You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.'

"They're all like it! 'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...' Ouch!" A liquid with a strong smell came out of the last letter she'd opened and poured over the girl's hands.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" Ron winced.

"Ow!" Hermione teared up, trying to clean up her own hands.

"Don't spread it!" Mel stopped her, she took Hermione's arm and helped her up.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry, looking at her in concern. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."

Mel made an attempt to follow her but Hermione mumbled 'Get rid of the rest', before hurrying out of the Great Hall.

"I warned her! I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one..." Ron picked one up and read in horror.  "'I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

"Who do they think they are?" Mel asked in anger. "Feeling entitled to attack a fourteen-year-old without knowing the whole story!"  

When they were heading to Care of Magical Creatures, Pansy talked from a few feet away:

"Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

"She found out your brain's beyond repair and that just broke her," Mel spat, pulling her friends forward.

They studied nifflers for Hagrid's class, made a funny little competition out of it, which Ron surprisingly won. However, for some reason that didn't please him. Hermione got back at the end of the class with her hands completely bandaged and informed Hagrid about her misfortune.

"Aaah, don' worry," Hagrid replied softly. "I got some o' those letters an' all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou' me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an' yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an' if you had any decency you'd jump in a lake.'.. Yeah, they're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

Ron was unusually quiet, frowning at the prize he'd won in Hagrid's class (a chocolate bar from Honeydukes).

"What's the matter? Wrong flavour?" Harry asked gently.

"No... Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?"

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup. The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Harry and Mel shared a look before they finally remembered what was he talking about.

"Oh! I dunno... I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

"Must be nice," Ron said quietly. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night," Harry replied sternly. "We all did, remember?"

"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," He said with embarrassment. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Forget it, all right?" Harry insisted.

Ron stared intently at the food of his plate and mumbled, "I hate being poor. It's rubbish. I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

"You're not poor," Mel patted his hand lovingly. "Not in the ways that matter– look at Malfoy, he has all that money and he's always in a terrible mood. He's got terrible friends as well."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt if I could buy new things for once, would it?" He pouted.

"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," Hermione tried to lighten the mood. "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus? I hate that Skeeter woman! I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

With the arrival of Hermione's hate mail also came a new wave of interest for Harry's love life, which meant they had to go back to the stage of walking on their tiptoes to avoid any unwanted attention, and it was driving them mad.

Hermione grew obsessed with finding out how Skeeter was getting all the information, Harry suggested that maybe she'd put microphones around the school but Hermione quickly brushed it away, reminding them about how that sort of Muggle technology was of no use around school.

The teachers were handing them more and more work as the end of the year started to inch closer. Mel and Dumbledore finally moved on from wandless spells to tracing hidden magic and she was doing splendidly well, mostly because she wanted to get everything done so they could start with her animagus studies.

The last days of May, Harry and Mel were in the library discussing Percy's letter while searching for some books for her lessons. Ron didn't want to join them and Hermione was busy with her research, so they found themselves in the bliss of another moment for the two of them only.

"Percy's in denial, he's too fond of his new position," Mel commented as she reached for a book in a higher shelf. "He's a pain, too young to be given all that power..."

"I thought you admired Percy," Harry replied.

"I appreciated his dedication while he was in school but I this is getting out of hand, something tells me he's not apt for the job."

"I reckon he strongly disagrees," Harry took the books as Mel handed the lot to him.

"Well, we're as close to figuring that out as we are to finish our assignments. I can't wait to be back home next month!" She tried to take the books from Harry's hands, but he refused to let go. "Just imagine– Glasses, knock it off! I'm capable of carrying my books!– As I was saying... picture us with all the time in the world to do whatever we want..."

"We could go to the movies!" Harry offered. "I have no muggle money, but maybe Emily could take us to Gringotts so I can exchange a few galleons..."

"I like the sound of that, we're old enough to do so," She happily walked up to the table on the corner.

"Been dreaming about it, have you?" Harry teased. She left the books on the table and stopped.

"What I've been dreaming of," Mel said carefully, "is for the tournament to end. I feel like I'll only be able to rest once it's over."

"I haven't been terrible in it, have I?" He tilted his head.

"You know I don't mean that," She lifted a hand and pushed some strands of hair away from his eyes. He sighed shortly, leaning into her hand instinctively.

"Just one more task," Harry said quietly. "Then it'll be over."

She nodded in silence, that wasn't the only thing she was thinking. Mel was hoping for the moment when they would finally be together in peace, without articles and journalists nagging around... Mel moved her hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and, catching him off guard, kissed him.

This one, though still innocent and short, conveyed all the emotions she was feeling. A loud thud startled them and caused her to bump noses with Harry. She heard him grunt as she held onto her own nose, tearing up a bit.

"My apologies!" A voice came from behind. "Did I take you by surprise? Well, I dare say you're not the only ones..."

"Not you," Mel groaned. "Why, of all the people that could've found us it ended up being you..."

"It's a gift," Erick smiled with no hints of shame, sitting down at the table they were planning to take. "It gives me the opportunity to eavesdrop a bit, and Merlin, it's always worth it."

"You can't tell anyone!" She hissed, finally letting go of her nose. "Not even Hermione!"

His eyes widened in wild interest. "Why, is this the first time that happens?" He looked at Harry. "Well, it certainly didn't look like it. Most of us think you're almost married. What is it?"

Mel felt so stupid, caught red-handed after all their efforts...

"You know what Skeeter would do with the information, now more than ever," She grumbled.

"That doesn't sound fun, does it?" Erick inquired, she'd never seen him so ecstatic.

"Just keep your mouth shut, will you?" Harry spat, his voice came out muffled since he was covering his mouth. Mel was about to scold him when Erick let out a hearthy laugh.

"Never been one to gossip– I'm happy for you though, it's been exasperating, flirting with Mel without her noticing to get a response from you. I had to hold back from getting involved so often!"

"That was you holding back?" Mel scoffed. "Can't imagine what unrestrained would look like... What are you doing here?"

"This is a library," He replied with a grin. "Believe it or not, I study without you."

"Okay then, study."

"I'm about to, this is my table."

"I don't see your name on it–"

"We can share it–"

"Not after what you just saw, I won't tolerate your teasing," Mel blushed furiously, picking up her books. "We'll go back to the tower, Harry, c'mon..."

"Be my guest," Erick half-bowed from his seat.

"You're enjoying this too much," She glared at him.

"Haven't even reached the I-told-you-so phase, you've seen nothing," He retorted. "Take your girlfriend before she sets the library on fire, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes at the pair. He wasn't going to admit it, especially not in front of Flint, but he'd felt a pleasant boost of energy at the word girlfriend.

"Come on, Mel..." He nodded at the boy. "I hope to never meet you like this again, Flint. Bye."

"Have a good night, lovebirds."

Next Chapter —>

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[drzewobojczyni]

How to get rid of a spy (The Penguins of Madagascar)

Dostępna polska wersja/Polish version available

When in the central park ZOO a well-known to the penguins enemy appears, the only thing they can do is sending Private to get rid of him once and for all. No pairings

Old draft finished for @2020madagascarparty theme: Missions

DeviantArt

The day looked like it was going to be just great. In the cloudless sky the sun was shining, a slight wind was blowing, and the school year was coming to an end, so the Central Park ZOO animals could be sure that a lot of visitors was going to show up. Sadly, not everything went as well as it should have. At least, not for the penguins, standing in their habitat.

"Kowalski," – asked Skipper, looking through binoculars. "Can you see what I'm seeing?

"It depends on what's on your mind," responded Kowalski. "Technically, we're looking at the same group of early school-aged children, but I'm guessing you mean a certain person, whom I'm unable to recognize from this distance."

Skipper pulled himself together and handed the binoculars to his lower rank colleague. Kowalski took a look and reacted as the squad member predicted.

"Whoa, momma!" he yelled. "It's the same kid again!"

"What kid?" asked Private, appearing from the hatch.

Kowalski quietly handed him the binoculars. Private quickly found the familiar person in the crowd – this curious, intrusive gaze and notebook with pencil, clutched in hands, could not be mistaken could not be mistaken for anyone else.

"Skipper, it's the same boy that was spying on us!"

Skipper wanted to say that he had time to notice this, but he held back, preferring not to hurt Private's feelings. The young penguin needed to trust the leader.

"Well, we've got to come up with some plan to get rid of him once and for all. Kowalski, any suggestions?"

Kowalski had already opened his beak, but before he had an opportunity to say anything, three lemurs jumped into the habitat.

"Hello, silly penguins!" yelled king Julien

"Ringtail!" groaned Skipper. "We were just going to work on a plan of an extremely important mission!"

"It won't take long, " spoke up Maurice. "You see, a lot of visitors came here today..."

"Thank you, Maurice, the king can speak for himself," interrupted him Julien. "The thing is, when the humans start to throw these fish to you... you've got to eat them quickly, so it doesn't smell!!! And if not, I'll bait Mort on you!!!"

Said lemur tried to make a scary face, but because of his small size, it wasn't effective enough.

"That's all? You don't have to remind us of such things!" said Private

"If you said everything you wanted to say, go away, there's an important meeting happening here." Skipper pushed the lemurs in the direction of their habitat. "It concerns you as well, so be so kind and don't interrupt us."

"I also meant to tell you to not let yourselves get taken away from the ZOO," Julien kept on babbling. "Because lately some human took this Mort away, and now he can't come into our ZOO! If it keeps on going, we'll be left without food from humans." He wrung his hands in despair..

Skipper stopped chasing away the lemurs immediately.

"You've got to tell me everything in detail right now!"

"You won't be ordering a king around! Mort, Maurice, we're going!"

And they were gone

"Well, we have to get necessary informations ourselves." Skipper sighed. "Private, call Rico. We're going to check out how Mort got kidnapped and why nobody told us about it. I've got some sort of plan already."

Kowalski got sad. Although he hadno idea on how to get rid of the spy, but he was deeply hurt that Skipper hadn't even let him speak up. He had no intention to debate his leader.

*

Firstly, the penguins headed to Marlene's habitat. They found her quietly strumming her guitar

"Hello, my friend, I see you're relaxing before the hard work of entertaining humans?" started Skipper

Marlene angrily put her guitar away

"I guess I'll never teach you respecting other's privacy, won't I? Lets get this done. What's the reason of your visit?"she asked.

"We're looking for the informations concerning the kidnapping of certain lemur named Mort," responded Kowalski.

"What, again? In any case, I know nothing about this!"

"It's fine, Marlene, we mean an event from the past," calmed her down Skipper.

"Oh, you should have said it first! Although I haven't seen much, you would be better off asking, you know, the lemurs."

"Due to the reasons independent to us," lied Skipper smoothly, "we can't cooperate with them."

"Why do I have this weird feeling that the reasons are very much dependent to you," mumbled Marlene. "Okay, I'll tell you everything I know, but I remind, there's not much of it.

"Two days ago, a school field trip came. You guys weren't here, you went on some 'secret mission', didn't you? The kids weren't happy. Most of them headed farther, but some of them were lingering. I don't know, maybe they thought that you had been hiding somewhere. Suddenly, Julien kicked Mort right next to your habitat. So, one of the marauder shoved him into his bag. Somehow, he did it so well that it was noticed only after he got into the bus. That's all I know."

"And that's enough for us," said Skipper. "Farewell, Marlene, thank you for cooperating."

After these words, the whole penguin squad left as quickly as it appeared.

For a moment Marlene pondered on what the penguins could be planning. After all, she came to conclusion that she would find out one day, and got back to playing her guitar.

*

"You heard this yourself, Kowalski, we have to place Private..."

"Why me?" asked Private.

"...in the bag," finished Skipper, unfazed. "Kowalski, what options do we have?"

"I suggest using my newest invention – a homing penguin-catapult. There's fifty percent chance of hitting the target."

"Let me guess – and fifty percent chance that the catapult will blow up, turning the shootee into a pile of ash?"

"How did you know?"

"A good leader can predict elements that could make accomplishing the mission harder."

"Or maybe I'll just sneak up and jump into the boy's bag?" asked the potential victim of the device, which ended up with a slap on the beak.

"Private, do not question the leader's orders!"

Private wanted to say that no order had been given, but he decided to keep quiet, afraid of another stroke.

"Kowalski, we'll use your devilish invention," decided Skipper.

*

Transporting the device from the base to the park – with huge contribution from Rico – took surprisingly little time, even despite the necessity of dissasembling it and reassembling it on the spot. Kowalski was typing something into the console, glancing at his notes from time to time.

"Aren't we attracting even more attention this way?" asked Private, still hoping to reason with the squad.

"Are you questioning my orders again?" growled Skipper.

"From my calculations it appears that right here we are least likely to get caught," threw Kowalski without stopping clicking.

"Listen, Private," said Skipper much quieter. "Keeping the secrecy of our squad depends on your sacrifice. It's a very honorable task, and if I were you, I'd be proud of being entrusted with it."

"Calibration finished!" yelled Kowalski.

Private shivered at these words.

"It was an honor having you in the squad," said Skipper.

"I would like to remind that there's fifty percent chance that Private survives the shot," noted Kowalski, whose pride was hurt by Skipper's doubts.

"Oh, right. In this case, good luck, soldier," he spoke to Private. "May you land in the right fifty percent."

Private hesitantly scrambled up the catapult's bucket, and instructed by Kowalski, he got into the most airdynamic position. All that was left was pressing the launch button, which Kowalski did with the pleasure that always accompanied him when testing any of his inventions. Everything seemed to go according to the plan – Private shot into the air like a rocket.

"See, even the equipment is still whole," noticed Kowalski. "According to my calculations, Private should fall into the bag in ten sec..."

In that moment the cattapult blew up in the cloud of smoke. The explosion drew attention of the ZOO visitors, including the intrusive boy, who turned around in search of noise's source. Together with him moved his bag, which was the goal of Private's flight. The penguin fell flat onto the paved with concrete bricks alley.

Meantime, the remaining penguins were shaking off from underneath of scattered parts, just a few seconds ago assembled into a handy ensemble in the form of a catapult.

"Kowalski, analysis," wheezed Skipper, not stong enough to express anger with his voice.

"I didn't predict that the catapult could blow up only after the shot, heh heh..." the penguin laughed nervously, which earned him a stroke with the wing. A cloud of soot flew into the air.

Having disciplined the scientist, Skipper put his mind into further progress of the mission.

"Binoculars!" he yelled to Rico.

Sadly, Rico inhaled a lot of soot and got a coughing attack. Kowalski wanted to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him, but because of his rapid movements he raised even more dust. Rico started to cough so strongly that he espectorated, in order: a rubber duck, ukulele, and something that looked a bit like a food processor, and a bit like a piggy bank. Luckily, a pair of binoulars joined them soon.

"I'm tracking him down, Skipper," said Kowalski, observing the terrain closely. "Wait... I think I've got him... yes, Private on the third! He landed according to my calculations... or rather he would, heven't the kid moved..."

"Is he conscious?" asked Skipper.

"Honestly, I doubt it, he's laying and not moving."

"Well then, let's go, our man is injured."

Three penguins sled to help the fourth squad member.

*

Meantime, Ronald tried to explain his teacher how the unconscious penguin showed up next to him.

"I'm telling you, it flew here from the park! Precisely, from over there!" He showed the direction with his hand.

"Penguins can't fly," responded Mrs Trevor

"Well, it looked more like it was thrown or shot here," the boy continued.

The woman had an unclear feeling that something like this had happened before, but she blamed it on the deja vu effect.

"All in all, it would be better to report it to one of employees," she proposed. "I think I can see someone! Wait for me!" She walked briskly towards the first person wearing a zookeepers uniform that she saw – in that case, Alice, driving a golfcart. The teacher tried to attract her attention by yelling, but the zookeeper was wearing headphones. The cart was moving farther and farther, forcing poor Mrs Trevor to run. A few students laughed, seeing this scene.

Meanwhile, the penguins were approaching their target.

*

Having heard Mrs Trevor's words, belittling his stories about penguins once again, Ronald sighed in despair. The boy had no idea how to prove his suspicions about the group of the birds right, and he definitely didn't want to end up like certain commonly considered a freak Mr X, about whom he often heard on the news. Although, on the other hand, another weirdo with the same obsession could direct attention of the public onto the right tracks.

Suddenly, with a corner of his eye, he noticed the penguins, sliding in his direction, which meant the risk of the unconscious bird being taken away by his peers. Ronald didn't want for it to happen during the teacher's absence. In a surge of genius he shoved the bird into the depths of his schoolbag.

Much to the boy's astonishment, the action caused the penguins to retreat suddenly into their habitat. He expected that the birds would rush to help their comrade, no matter what, but it seemed thet they were too selfish for this... or they had some other plan. Ronald was slowly starting to understand mr X.

*

After a moment, Mrs Trevor and the zookeeper Alice emerged from behind of the corner. The first of aforementioned women was explaining the other the circumstances of the event.

"We saw the penguin right here, didn't we, Ronald?" The teacher pointed under the boy's feet with her hand.

Alice appraised the habitat, then she moved her gaze to the boy.

"And you, I hope, had nothing to do with that?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, of course not!" He tried to hold his nervous grin back.

"If that's the case, where did he go?" asked Alice once again.

"And why didn't you stop him?" added Mrs Trevor.

The boy pondered for a moment.

"He went... in this direction!" He pointed at the park with his hand. "And I didn't stop him because I was afraid of him. I mean, I was afraid for him, I could have hurt him, and then what?"

"You'd be in trouble," mumbled Alice. "Alright, I'm going to take care of this situation." With these words, she turned arounds and walked away.

"I'll check out what the rest of the class is doing. Don't do anything stupid!" said the teacher, who left Ronald to his own devices as well.

As soon as the women left, the boy realised what he had done. The penguins seemingly let go of any attempts to save the colleague, which meant that the whole plan of revealing their secrets backfired. There was only one thing left – getting rid of the evidence imperceptingly and pretending that nothing happened. Ronald made sure that the animal hidden in his bag is still alive, and then he headed to the park.

*

In the bag, Private regained cosciousnes – and regretted it immediately. It was dark, stifling, and the edges of textbooks and notebooks were stabbing his body. He promised himself to never get involved in such a mission.

As if there were not enough problems, the only way of to find out his surroundings were outside sounds and the movements of the bag. From the sounds of the crowd slowly becoming quieter and rustling of the trees replacing them the penguin guessed that the boy is leaving the ZOO.

Private tried to escape before it was too late, but the velcro was holding strong, and the textbooks were giving no support. Constant jumps of the bag was not helping, either. The only thing left was waiting for a miracle.

The miracle turned out to be Alice.

*

The zookeeper was searching through the part of Central Park adjacent to the ZOO, asking the people about the penguin here and there. In the best cases she was met with polite denials, in the worst ones – laughter and unpleasant comments. Despite this, she was not giving up, mostly because of the spectre of paycheck cuts, or, even worse, losing her job, although concern for her charge was not leaving her alone, either.

"He couldn't run away too far," she mumbled. "You never know with these, though..."

She checked yet another bush, with no big results again. Resigned, she got up, turned around... and almost jumped, in front of herself seeing the boy, who informed her about missing penguin.

"It's you again!" she said, annoyed. "Well, then, have you seen anything?" she asked a bit nicer.

The boy shook his head, trying to hide his nervousness and the bag, in which he felt a slight movement. Luckily for him, it unnoticed by Alice.

"Okay, then." She shrugged. "If you see anything, let me know," she said, and left to search further.

*

Ronald was just waiting for Alice to leave him alone. He opened the bag and put the penguin on the ground. He was about to leave, when suddenly the zookeeper returned.

"I think I left..." She registered the scene unfolding in front of her. "… a pen here"

Ronald desperately tried to find some believable explanation, but before anything came to his mind, he felt as his wrist gets into Alice's iron grip.

In one hand holding the found penguin, and pulling the culprit of his disappearance with the other, the zookeeper triumphantly stepped into the ZOO. Both red-faced – although because of different reasons – they stood before the face of the teacher, who was standing next to the gate.

"Your student," said Alice, coldly as ice, "endangered thed life of on of our penguins.

"But how...?" asked Mrs Trevor, glaring at the boy, who tried to turn himself invisible with willpower.

"I put him into my bag and ran away to the park," exploded Ronald. "But you see, they were spying on me one time..."

"You must understand that I can't allow for such a situation to repeat," interrupted him Alice. "If you can't keep an eye on your students, I'm forced to ban the whole class from going to this ZOO."

"But..."

"You have ten minutes to gather the children and leave the garden. Good bye."

Alice turned around dramatically to put the badly battered flightless back in his habitat.

*

Meanwhile, the other penguins were observing the situation from hideout, lazily chewing popcorn. As soon as the zookeeper started to march towards their habitat, the threw the snacks between bushes and sled back to their place before she could notice their absence.

"Well, Private," said Skipper. "You managed better than I expected."

"Thank you, Skipper," responded Private. "But it's more of a coincidence..."

"Don't be so modest, you deserve a reward."

Skipper looked around. Seeing that most of the people had already left, he uncovered the base's hatch and jumped inside. The rest of the squad followed him.

Inspired by a certain post

[kyndaris]

Shadows of the Mind

Red-rimmed eyes stared back at me. Disgusted to see how low I had fallen, I splashed cold water onto my face – hoping against hope that it would also wash away my addiction. No such luck.

Studying my reflection, I ran a tired hand over the stubble that I should have shaved off yesterday morning…or had it been the day before last? Time blurred when sleep was taken out of the equation. And it had been a long while since I had rested my head on a pillow.

Yet though I craved the comforts of a warm bed, the only beating thought in my head was the same refrain I had heard a million times before: just one more. After all, what could it hurt? I was already late. Even if they didn’t fire me today, I would not be long for the chopping block when the next review came up.

A better man would have done more when his wife and their two children had threatened to leave because of the nights spent in the casino. A better man would probably have talked it out and made steps for self-improvement. When the accident happened, a better man might have used the opportunity to finally turn over a new leaf. Or, perhaps, a better man would have poured all their energy into digging into the truth of the situation.

But I was not a better man.

When I could not afford to continue gambling away my money at the slot machines, I turned to drink to drown out the pain. Kicked out of the house that had cost me two decades of labour and bleeding money from the debts that had gone unpaid, I was at the end of my rope.

The yellow eye in the centre of my left palm looked up at me. Judgement writ clear.

I blinked and the image disappeared. My hand was pink flesh once again. No sign of an eye anywhere. Had I just dreamed it? Or was there something more sinister? Linked, perhaps, to the work I was doing? How else could I explain the cadavers that were brought in with ridges of scales and webbed toes.

It should not have come as a surprise. There had always been rumours of a curse being laid on the small seaside town since time immemorial. Folk tales, mostly, to scare kids into behaving.

But what if it was all true? It would explain the accident. There was no way that Morgan would have missed the turn. She had always been a careful driver, particularly when there was heavy fog. And the kids were in the back…

The police had stopped by the house and had asked plenty of questions. Did I have any suspicions that she might have had suicidal thoughts or that she was not coping in any way? The idea was ludicrous. I told the officers as such. ‘Morgan would never have done it on purpose. Our kids meant the world to her. Hell, she had been heading to her parents – nowhere near the promontory…’

A sharp slap to the face brought me out of my spiralling thoughts. God. I was losing my mind and there was nothing I could do about it. One of the side effects, probably, from the antidepressants and anxiety tablets I had been prescribed.

I reached for the bottle. Twisted the lid. Two small capsules popped out into my cupped hand. Within seconds, I had swallowed them dry.

As I felt them slide down my throat, I risked one more glance at the mirror. My clothes were crinkled, dark bags rested under my eyes and the tuft of hair I still had would do little to cover my encroaching baldness. In one word I looked like shit.

Still, I had seen worse. And I found that I didn’t much care whether I lost my job today or in the near future.

I was tired of fighting. Easier to submit to the inevitable once it came. Whether that was the drugs I had taken, I couldn’t say. The fog that descended over my mind made it hard to think about it too much. Maybe that was good. At the very least I would not have to combat the crippling anxiety that would have come with it.

Gambling had taken away my family. It had taken away the roof over my head and the food to line my stomach. Soon, it would take my life. One way or another.

Within minutes I left the small cramped flat and took the rickety lift down to the rundown carpark. A tan overcoat was tastefully slung over my right arm in the hope that it would give me a modicum of respectability. I only prayed that no-one looked too closely at the frayed sleeves and the weathered scuff marks. In my other hand, I carried a battered leather briefcase that I had dug out of the closet. As I reached in for the keys to the bucket of bolts that I called a car, I realised that I had forgotten my security pass.

Cursing under my breath, I dumped most of my belongings into the passenger side seat and raced up the stairs rather than wait for the lift. Legs burning and puffing hard, I stopped at the second floor to catch my breath. Just as an errant chastisement was once again about to regale me with all my failures up to that absolute second, I mustered up what remained of my strength and staggered up the remaining flight of stairs to my two-bedroom unit.

It was then a simple matter of busting open the door and nabbing the pass sat on what could not reasonably be considered a proper dining table – an elevated plastic chair with three stools around it. Oh, how far the mighty had fallen. If only my old friends could see me now…

But I had lost most anyone that would have cared to offer any sort of aid for my self-inflicted plight.

By the time I pulled up at the security gate, I was ten minutes late. The guard took his time checking my pass and confirming my name in the system. He reminded me of a raven with his sharp beak-like nose and the shifty glint in his small beady black eyes as he looked at my face and then the computer screen with needless scrutiny.

‘Everything appears to be in order, Mister Hinds,’ he said. His voice was unusually nasally, almost high-pitched, for a man of his size and girth. ‘Be sure to clock in on time tomorrow. I’ve had journalists sniffing up here the last few days, trying to sneak in. You know how it is when it comes to the work that goes on. Probably know it better than I do.’

I nodded and made to retrieve my security pass. ‘No need to tell me twice. I’ll be doubly sure to set the alarm to a quarter to seven,’ I replied with a polite smile. ‘Thank you for your exemplary work, Horace. Doing us all proud.’

Once the gate was up, I pushed my car into gear. It trundled through, picking up speed as soon as I reached the main building and the carpark resting underneath. Built forty years ago, it was an impressive creation of concrete. Passing under the awning as I entered the carpark, I could barely make out any windows on the exterior. Appropriate, considering the secrets that we kept hidden away from prying eyes.

When I finally arrived at the laboratory, after changing into my white lab coat in one of the only sterile areas of the facility, it was ten minutes to eleven. Already a migraine had formed behind my eyes, throbbing with each beat of my heart. All I wanted to do was to take a sip of smooth whiskey to ease away the pain. Except, of course, I didn’t even have enough money to buy a pint at the local pub, let alone anything stronger.

Before I could entertain my fantasy further, Gladstone strode in from the far door. “Good to see you actually make it out of bed, Hinds,’ he said, barely looking up from his notes on the clipboard. ‘We need you downstairs. One of the,’ he hesitated slightly as he looked for a word to describe the subjects that were kept in less than humane holding cells, ‘creatures had a little incident last night. Look into it.’

Just like that, I was dismissed.

Orders given, Gladstone sat at a free desk, his eyes never leaving whatever was on his clipboard as he tapped his pen arrhythmically against it. Maybe it was my overactive imagination or perhaps it was my sleep deprived brain, but I could not help but compare Gladstone to a big cat, just waiting to pounce upon the unwary. Surely, the elongated teeth and sharp curling fingernails were due to the fact that I had been awake for the last thirty-six hours.

With a great shake of my head, I picked up my belongings and made for the far door from whence Gladstone had come through.

As I made my way down, my footsteps on the metal steps echoed through the concrete well. There was naught in this passageway to dampen sound. Austere and spartan had been the design choices when it came to top-secret laboratories nestled a few miles away from town.

Deeper and deeper and deeper I went. It was as if I was descending into the bowels of the Earth.

My only companion was a small wispish ball of bluish light, shaped into an amalgamation of an eyeball and wings. I knew I should have been disturbed by the sudden evolution in my hallucinations. Yet, I could not find the strength inside me to care. After all, what were a few demons and devils from myths and legends, when I had seen men who had sprouted bat wings and women with large bulbous eyes with gills beginning to form on their necks?

Besides, it seemed harmless anyways. Staying always three feet behind me. For a brief moment, I came to a stop at a landing and eyed it for a few seconds, daring it to attack, before shrugging my shoulders when it remained docile, impossibly hovering in place.

How exceedingly odd.

Knowing that it was not real, I did not reach for it. Even as I tried to rationally explain the phenomena floating beside me with science. In the end, I simply chalked it up to the drugs and thought no more on the matter.

Something strange was happening and it was my job to find the answers. It mattered not that I was wracked with guilt and grief. Gladstone, for one, couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that I did what I was paid for. Nothing more. Nothing less.

As I stepped through the pressurised doors and into the decontamination unit, I turned my addled mind to the task at hand. With great effort, I managed to rouse it from its stupor. By the time I emerged into the top-secret containment area, I was as focused and sharp as I was ever going to be with soporific drugs pumping through my veins. Which, to be fair, wasn’t much. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I stumbled forward, one hand blindly reaching for a wall to steady myself as I adjusted to the change in temperature and lighting.

‘Hinds! Thank God you’re here. I’ve tried my best to stabilise it but this is beyond my skills.’ Pritchard rushed towards me, her hands covered in a deep shade of blue and a frantic look in her eyes. ‘You know what’ll happen if we were to lose it. And I’d rather not have my head on a pike.’

‘Show me.’

We headed deeper, passing by huge containment units filled with all manner of strange creatures and monsters. Many had been found washed up on the beaches dotted along the western coast. Some had been hostile, attacking anyone or anything nearby. Others had been positively docile, more curious than dangerous.

Even their appearances varied. I had seen several that looked like they had stepped out from my worst nightmare. There was no word to describe the monstrosities. Videos I had glimpsed showed unspeakable terrors – a mix of tentacles and shapeless horrors. Bringing them back to the facility was never an option. The casualty numbers had been astronomical. We were fortunate when the retrieval team returned with footage.

Should the retrieval team manage to subdue one of these creatures, which they did on a rare occasion, they were almost always dead upon delivery. And utterly useless for our research.

Imagine what we could learn if we actually had a living breathing monster before us! The knowledge that we would have at our fingertips!

Most of what my team and I had been able to study were specimens that were mostly humanoid in appearance. One had stood out in my memory had looked like a man that I had seen on a Missing Persons poster that had been hanging outside one of the telegraph poles near my flat. The only difference had been the ridges of scales that had lined his jaw and knuckles as well as the yellowish tint to his eyes.

It had been clear that he had been in the midst of metamorphosis. How or why had remained a mystery. We had kept him in isolation, unsure how best to classify him.

Unfortunately, he had not survived long in captivity. I had been the one to discover his body one rare morning when I was actually sober a few days before Morgan’s ill-fated attempt to leave me. Suffice it to say, there was naught we could do to revive the man. The autopsy, too, had failed to pinpoint the exact cause of death. Those thoughts had consumed me prior to my gambling binge. And all I had wanted was a distraction to escape the realities of my job.

Pritchard led me to a small enclosed room. It was filled with a variety of medical equipment. At the centre of the room was a cot. Two nurses were crowded around it, their eyes fixed on the heart monitor as it beeped erratically. They looked up as we entered.

‘How’s it looking?’ said Pritchard.

‘Not good, Laura,’ answered Lopez as he rose to his feet and made some space. He was a tall burly fellow and sported long hair that was tied into a neat ponytail. If I did not know him, I would have said he looked out of place, dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. Despite his appearance (which would better fit a wrestling ring), he was one of the best nurses I had worked with. Professional and exacting, I could always count on Lopez on following my instructions to the letter.

‘Do you know what happened?’

Lopez shook his head. ‘Escape gone wrong? The security team found it in the early hours of the morning. It was already bleeding. Then it tried to attack one of the men. In a panic, one of the junior officers shot it. The rest is what you can see.’

Head pounding with the onset of a hangover, I pressed my thumbs into my temples. Things were rapidly going wrong and I needed to make a decision. Time was of the essence. I could not afford to second guess myself or watch as a life slipped from my fingers just because the only thing I could think about, given the emergency, was how good whisky on the rocks would taste on my parched tongue.

~

Time passed. I could not say how long we worked until we managed to stabilise the creature until I glanced at my wristwatch and saw the time. Over the course of minutes that had seemed like hours, and hours that had seemed like days, we struggled to keep it alive. It fought us tooth and nail. I suffered two scratches on my right arm and Pritchard was sporting a cut lip. It was as if it would rather death than another moment in captivity in a holding cell. A part of my sympathised with it. What was a life confined to four walls and where strange men dressed all in white came to poke and prod you?

Sweat dotting my brow, I managed to inject tranquiliser into the creature, as the rest of the team – Pritchard and the two nurses held it down. Once it took effect, we all exchanged exhausted smiles. Standing back up, I glanced at the machines recording its vitals.

‘Keep it sedated. The sutures should hold but better not risk it,’ I said to Pritchard as I dabbed at my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

‘Hinds, you’re a lifesaver.’

I shook my head. ‘We aren’t out of the woods yet. Keep an eye on the equipment. Message me if anything changes.’ Pulling off my gloves, I added, ‘I’m going to grab something to eat. Oh, and Pritchard, tell Gladstone that I can’t keep doing this. I’m a scientist. Not a bloody surgeon.’

With that, I stepped out of the cramped tiny room that we had been in for the four hours. As I did so, my stomach grumbled. A reminder that I had not eaten anything substantial for a good long while. It was a torturous trek back up the stairs. By the time I reached the top, my knees were aching and it hurt to breathe.

Why didn’t anyone think to build a bloody lift? What if an incident happened down in containment and we needed to flee for our lives? The monsters would get us all before we even made it up one flight. Except, maybe, Lopez. He looked like someone that ran marathons on the weekends. Working as a nurse in a top-secret facility was wasted on him.

Once I was able to inhale without an accompanying twinge of pain, I gingerly passed into the main laboratory. Gladstone was still seated at his desk. His eyes barely flickered as I walked by. ‘Would it be a safe assumption that the situation has been rectified, Hinds?’

I stopped at the exit, my stomach twisting itself into a knot as it sought any type of sustenance. ‘For the time being. Sir, if I may, how long must we continue to prolong their torment? These experiments are not humane. And who’s to say when the next incident may occur. Lives will be lost.’

‘You grow bold, Hinds. However, it is not your place to question the orders you are given. You need money, yes? What would your wife and children think if you came back home with no job to support their ever-growing needs? The solution here is simple. You do as you’re told.’

‘Sir, they’re—’ I closed my mouth, thinking better of it. Of course, Gladstone had forgotten the funeral. He was a man focused on results, never mind the means. The people he worked with were not colleagues or humans with lives that varied from the complex to the very simple. They were tools. Nothing more. Even now he was still intently reading through the data that had been collated over several months. On occasion, he would stop and make a brief annotation.

Were it not for the drugs, I might have strangled the indifferent bastard. As it was, I could barely summon the energy to remain on my feet. My entire body seemed to shake terribly and I desperately hoped Gladstone would not notice. God forbid what would happen if he, for once in his life, was actually aware of those around him.

‘Is there a reason that you are still here, Hinds?’ The dismissal was clear in his voice. And I gladly welcomed it with both arms.

‘No, sir. Apologies, sir.’ I left quickly, hardly daring to look over my shoulder as I made my exit.

The corridors of the facility were a dull grey. Given the nature of the research conducted within its walls, there had been no need for bombastic decorations. No potted plants lined the atrium. No colour broke up the endless shades of concrete. If there was one word I would use to describe my place of employment it would be utilitarian.

Though it was past the normal lunch hour, the cafeteria was still bustling with staff. Grabbing up a tray, I joined the queue, grabbed the first thing that would fill my stomach and headed to a table near the back of the hall where I could remain, hopefully unobserved, for as long as I desired. After all, I had told Pritchard to message me if anything changed. Beyond that, I needed time for myself.

~

Perhaps it was the fact that this was the first time that I had a full stomach in days, or that I was thoroughly exhausted after a sleepless night, or that the afternoon sun shining through the frosted glass made the spot I had claimed my own so warm and cosy. My eyes closed. Before I knew it, I was adrift on the seas of sleep and darkness consumed me.

At first, I did not realise that I was dreaming. Once more, I was back in the house that we had first bought when we moved to the town. It was not a mansion I had promised the kids, but it did have an excellent view of the sea. One that I usually tended to enjoy on the rare Sunday afternoons that I was actually at home. Unfortunately, the sky was overcast and from my vantage point, I could see the waves crashing onto the beach with a vicious ferocity.

‘Tom, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there in this weather. Why don’t you come in?’

I turned around. Standing near the glass sliding door was Morgan, a concerned look on her face. She was all rugged up, a shawl draped over her shoulders. In her hands, she cradled a mug of hot steaming coffee. I joined her. With a smile on my lips as I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek as I took the offered mug.

‘Thank you for always looking out for me, darling,’ I whispered into her ear before cheekily nibbling on her lower lobe and trailed a finger down her neck.

‘Stop that, Tom,’ said Morgan, though her body language belied her words as she pressed up against my chest. ‘Not in front of the June and Jasper.’

‘And why ever not? They’re old enough to know about these things.’

She twirled around in my arms and lightly pressed her lips against mine. Before I could deepen it, Morgan pulled away, and flashed me an enigmatic smile. ‘That may be true, but there are some things, Tom, that are better left in the bedroom.’

I chased after her. Morgan had always been such a tease, even back when we had first dated in university. She squealed when I picked her up by her legs just before she managed to slip inside. The impulse to ravish her there and then thrummed through me. Grinning from ear to ear, I marched across the threshold. My destination: the bedroom.

As I stepped through, the scene before me changed. Morgan vanished from my arms. Blinking, it took me several moments to realise that I was now in the kitchen. The lights were off. Tableware had been smashed to a thousand tiny pieces and crockery was strewn across the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear crying. Immediately, I recognised the memory for what it was. And though I wanted to find Morgan and comfort her for all the pain I had caused her, I found myself rooted to the spot, breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. My hands were clenched tight into fists and I resisted the urge to punch the marble countertop.

It was then that I realised that I was still holding onto a bottle of whiskey. Carefully, I placed it back on the kitchen countertop. There was no point in wasting good alcohol. Even in anger.

What I really needed was space and time to clear my head.

Glancing down at the mess that Morgan and I had made, I made a mental note to clean it all up when I came back. Then, once tempers had cooled, we would sit down and hash things out. I dared not think about the inevitable fight we would have once she learned that I had left to gamble away more money on the slot machines in the local pub. What she did not know would not hurt her.

Besides, I deserved it. What did it matter if I spent a few hundred dollars? This was the money I earned from my labours up at the lab. How it was used was up to me.

I grabbed the keys from where they hung on hooks next to the door. It would only be a short drive down into the town centre. Then, it would be only a few hours of watching the slots spin. In my bones, I knew that luck would be on my side. Today would be when I won the jackpot. Lucky 7s all the way through. And then I could leave my job and everything that it entailed.

With a resounding slam, the front door shut behind me.

As it did, the world once more swirled around me. It took several moments to realise that I was facing the front door rather than the street. A sudden feeling of dread filled my stomach. At that moment, I knew what memory had been pulled to the fore.

Despite my attempts to fight the course of destiny, my body was not my own. My hands fumbled for the house keys. In the pre-dawn light, I struggled to identify the right key. Each one I used never quite seemed to fit. Why was it so hard to open my own goddamn front door? There were only two locks for fuck’s sake.

Had I really drunk that much? Frustrated, I gave the door a kick, expecting that I’d break a toe for my efforts.

The door crashed open. It had been unlocked. Surprised, I chanced a glance inside. Everything was a mess. Clothes and books and papers lay on the ground. I knew what had happened and I wanted desperately to leave. To turn tail and get back into my car that was parked on the street rather than the garage. Or to chase after them, praying that, somehow, I’d be able to save them before they met their inevitable demise at the bottom of a cliff.

But the inexorable march of fate would not allow me to make the smart choice. It was like I was in a horror film and trapped in the body of the characters. How many times had I screamed at the screen, telling the blonde cheerleader to run instead of investigating further?

Just like those that came before, I cautiously entered the house. ‘Hello?’

My first stop was the living room. Turning the corner, I spotted upended furniture and streaks of red along the walls. There was not a soul to be seen. No sign that anyone was in the house that we had lived in for the last three years. What terrified me the most was the fact that neither the kids nor Morgan answered my entreaties.

A chill went down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Behind me, the creaking of floorboards warned me of someone’s approach. Immediately, I whirled around, arms up. I didn’t know if I could fight off my assailant. After all, I was a researcher. Ever since I was young, the best words to describe me were tall and gangly. I had never been much for sport, preferring to stay indoors than being out in the sun where I would be more likely to suffer injury.

The thing before me could hardly be described as human. As my gaze alighted on its hideous form, I recoiled – both mentally and physically. I knew then that my trip down memory lane was ended and the nightmare begun.

It looked like it had three misshapen heads. Three pairs of discoloured eyes blinked up at me. Instead of hands, it sported crooked claws, the nails of which were chipped and terrifyingly long.  

‘Tom,’ it croaked in a broken chorus of voices. ‘Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom!’ Morgan. June. Jasper. Three melded into one.

I backed away. Until my back hit wall. It came closer, claws outstretched. No. No. No. No. This could not be happening. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. A nightmare. I closed my eyes and willed myself to just wake up. All I needed to do was just wake up. WAKE THE BLOODY FUCK UP!

‘Help me,’ moaned the abomination. After all, that was what it was. Something so twisted that it ought not to exist in the waking world. ‘Heeeeeelp us!’

Cracking open one eyelid, I discovered that nothing had changed. Only that the creature now had me pinned to the wall of the living room. It was so close, the smell of it so exceedingly rank that the urge to gag was overwhelming. I was trapped with nowhere to run.

It slunk ever closer on unsteady legs. One foot scraped along the floor. Or was it a tail? Scaly, twisted, I dared not risk another glance. Instead, I screwed my eyes up tight again, wishing and praying in equal measure that I would wake up.

Something slimy alighted on my cheek. I batted it away, choking back the scream that threatened to escape. None of it was real, I reminded myself. I only needed to wake up. Slowly, but surely, it became a mantra. My one lifeline in a world gone mad.

As something gripped my shoulder, I flinched from the touch.

Breathe, Tom, breathe. It’s just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream…

‘Hinds! Hinds! Wake up!’

It was the sting from the slap that finally tore apart the complex tapestry that my subconscious mind had woven. I blearily blinked up at Pritchard, confused and scared in equal measure. The last tendrils of the nightmare still clung to my thoughts.  I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

A moment passed. Then two. As I took in the empty cafeteria and the late afternoon sun fading into the horizon, I realised that I had been asleep for far too long. Unsteadily, I rose to my feet and mumbled an apology.

‘Has something happened?’ I asked, running a weary hand over my face. My eyes felt like they had been gummed together and my head was pounding. What was worse was the sudden dryness and stickiness that pervaded my mouth. It was as if I had eaten taffy. My tongue darted out to moisten my chapped lips but it little to soothe my discomfort.

What I wouldn’t give for eight hours of undisturbed slumber.

Pritchard opened her mouth, then closed it. A few moments passed in silence. Unable to stifle it, I let out a particularly leonine yawn. When next she spoke, her gaze fixed a few inches above my shoulder, I knew it wasn’t what she had initially intended to say. ‘You don’t look well, Hinds. P-perhaps I can go tell Gladstone? I’m sure he’ll understand.’

‘What do you mean?’

She wrung her hands and forced a smile to her face. ‘It’s really not much, Hinds. Gladstone was just looking for any and all volunteers for something. We are at the stage where we’re on the cusp of discovering something new. And honestly, while your expertise would be welcome should things go awry, it’s fine if you wish to decline. That’s not to say, of course, that your presence wouldn’t be appreciated. I know that this is something that you’ve been wanting to be witness to for a long time coming. I just thought that you looked tired and a little pale in the face, is all.’

Her remarks had hit far closer to the truth than I would have liked. It was as if Pritchard saw through the thin façade I had erected at work. I didn’t like it. Nobody had cared before. Why now?

I realised too late that the quiet had stretched too long between us. ‘I’m fine. Really,’ I said, hoping to fill the void with idle chatter. ‘You saw me. A little nap was all I needed. Now, where are we expected?’

The look Pritchard threw my way said that I had done little to persuade her. And though I could her innate curiosity wishing to dig further into my personal affairs, she had the wisdom to hold back. For that, I was thankful.

~

In silence, we headed back to the laboratory and the containment area. When we arrived, the presentation had already begun. Sneaking in, I felt the weight of Gladstone’s gaze on the back of my head as it bored a hole right into my skull. Gladstone never much liked interruptions. Nor did he suffer individuals that were late to one of his meetings. It meant unnecessary repetition.

I kept my head low as I took my seat near the back and glanced at the whiteboard. On it was a picture that had been blown up almost a thousand times. It did not look like much – a mess of pixelated flesh. A new acquisition, perhaps?

‘As I was saying, the next few days will be crucial. We will need to act fast if we wish to secure the specimen and bring it back here for observation and research. This may be our one chance to show the world that our work has not been in vain,’ said Gladstone. He looked down at his palm cards and pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘Remember: this mission is top-secret. If we manage to pull this off, we will be making history. Now, are there any questions?’

My hand shot straight up. There were a thousand things I wanted to ask. Why weren’t the retrieval team being sent out? What had I missed that the strict procedures that we were meant to follow were being tossed out the window?

A flash of frustration flitted across Gladstone’s face as he spotted my waving hand before he managed to school his expression into one of disdain and disinterest. ‘Yes, Hinds? What is it?’

‘Why are you sending us? We’re scientists. Don’t we have trained men to handle situations like this?’

He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘If you had been here for the briefing earlier instead of who knows where, you would know that the situation is delicate. Timing is of the essence. Our current teams are unavailable. As such, the powers that be made the decision to have any willing staff join in this mission. Now, if there is nothing else, I must leave. There are preparations that I need to see to before departure.’

Gladstone straightened his lab coat and then stalked out of the room. I chased after him, a thousand different enquiries in mind. Before I had even rose halfway off my chair, I felt someone tug at my sleeves. I turned around, ready to snap the head off anyone stupid enough to stop me.

Couldn’t they see that I was trying my very best to make sure that we weren’t all walking into a death trap? That I was looking out for everyone involved? A sudden spear of pain shot through my head and my hands were clammy. In my chest, my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.

Shit. How long had it been since I last took my pills? Was it already time for another dose?

Pritchard had a look in her eyes as she mutely shook her head. Was it a sign not to aggravate Gladstone any further? I couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t humans just explicitly say what they wanted instead of dancing around the subject? If Morgan had—

No. Best not go there.

I lowered back on the chair. ‘What?’ My tone came out a little brisker than I had anticipated.

‘There’s no need to be like that, Hinds,’ hissed Pritchard. ‘I warned you, didn’t I? Told you explicitly that you didn’t need to come. But you, of course, being all macho, said that “you were fine.”’

My cheeks flushed red and I looked away. Words sprang to the tip of my tongue but I choked them down. I knew when I had been properly chastised. Pritchard was right. It had been my own stubbornness not to ask further. And when Gladstone had sprung, I had been caught off-guard. Stupid, really. I should have known something was wrong from the start.

This had been no normal meeting amongst scientists. It had been a war council.

As I brooded over everything that I knew, silence filled the gap. ‘You can’t really be serious about participating in this madness, Pritchard,’ I said finally. With some effort, I forced my gaze to meet hers.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t see any way out of this, Hinds. A lot of the others are in the same boat. If Gladstone says “jump” we respond with “how high?”’

I swore under my breath. ‘We know nothing about this…thing. How can he be so sure that it’ll be docile?” I asked, motioning to the picture that sat centre stage on the whiteboard. Looking at it, I could not repress the shudder that went through my entire body at the sight of the horror. This was no creature of the Earth. Neither human or part of the animal kingdom. It was an abomination, plain and simple – something wholly alien and terrible and unspeakable.

Years of research, completing my doctorate thesis on bioengineering and eugenics, and here I was chasing monsters. I was meant to find a way to elongate the human lifespan. This was not it.

True, the possibilities of the research had been enticing at first. I had been ecstatic when I first joined, believing that the sea creatures could be the key to unlocking the final mysteries of what I had sought for so long. But the more I saw and learned, the less it seemed my dream would come to fruition. Gladstone’s goal had diverged. We were no longer pursuing science for the betterment of society. Instead, we were trying to unearth something that should have remained closed.

‘We don’t,’ said Pritchard as she flashed me an ironic and sad smile before she rose to her feet.

As she made her way across the room with her fellow scientists, her hand lingered a while on my shoulder. I watched her round the corner and disappear from view. Another person I had failed to save. Glancing back at the whiteboard and the aberrant creature displayed on it, I made the only decision I could given the circumstances.

~

For hours I had tossed and turned, but sleep continued to elude me. The cot beneath me creaking with every movement. Frustrated, I finally settled on my back and stared up at the dimly lit steel roof of the truck I now found myself in. Around me, I heard the other volunteers shift in their sleep. Some were snoring, somehow falling asleep though the truck shook and rattled. But I knew a good number were probably lying awake just as I was.

Perhaps they were pondering their life choices, wondering where they had gone wrong and regretting their decision to volunteer. Or maybe they were fretting on what the future might bring.

Had I not volunteered, I would have been in my small cramped apartment and downing can after can of beer. Elsewise, I might have spent an evening at the pub, nursing one good drink until the early hours of the morning as I ruminated on why I had not gone with the others in my team. And if the bartender pitied me enough, they might have slipped me another.

It would have been another round of bad choices, culminating in me stumbling to my bed and falling into it head-first and still fully-clothed – unable to shake off the ghosts that haunted me still.

At least, by choosing this, I was doing something and making a difference. Whether it helped or not, I couldn’t say.

The only kick I had got was seeing the shock on Pritchard’s face when she saw me board with one of the tan duffel bags, that had been stuffed with amenities that had been handed out, slung over one shoulder for the overnight trip. I had flashed her a weary grin before I made my way over to the cot that I’d been assigned.

Tomorrow was an early start. If I wanted to be any help to the team, I needed rest.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, Morgan and June and Jasper appeared before me. Their faces as pale as the moon, their mouths open wide in a soundless scream as they beat against the windows of the car.

I jolted straight up, my breathing harsh and loud in my ears. One hand flew to my chest, hoping to calm my heart that was thundering a wild tattoo. Shit. Fucking goddammit. Where was a bottle of vodka when you needed it? Why hadn’t he thought to return to his apartment to pick up his pills before coming here? Two angry fists thumped against the too-soft cot.

‘Hinds?’ The whispery voice was filled with concern. Had I woken her up? A mixture of guilt and frustration bubbled through me. I didn’t dare turn towards her, knowing that my face was an open book.

‘It’s nothing,’ I said tersely. ‘Go back to sleep, Pritchard.’

‘You can talk to me, you know,’ she persisted. ‘Like we used to. Back when Morgan was ali—'

‘I said I’m fine.’ In the silence that fell across the entirety of the truck, I hated how loud I sounded. God, why couldn’t people just leave me alone?

Behind me, I heard Pritchard settle back into her cot. Minutes passed. Slowly, but surely, the snores resumed. I lay back down, the cot creaking as I adjusted my weight, and stared up at the roof. Finally, when exhaustion tugged at my bones, I closed my eyes and let the movement of the truck lull me into a fitful slumber, haunted by images of the restless dead.

~

As the six of us disembarked, we were greeted by a grey overcast sky on a grey pebble beach. Two tents had been set up on the sand. Not too far away were stacks of metal crates. Our supplies had been offloaded first – water, food and weapons. The thought of wielding a gun had my stomach doing somersaults and I hoped there would be something more substantial than cheese and crackers, though I didn’t feel particularly hungry.

What I really wanted, more than anything else, was a can of something cool on my tongue. Preferably a pint of lager, but anything would do.

Something brusquely brushed against my arm. I whirled around, a harsh condescending reprimand on the tip of my tongue, when I caught sight of Pritchard. It was obvious from one glance that she had not slept well. Like mine, her eyes had dark bags underneath. And there was something jittery in the way she moved. She did not smile at me. Instead, she gave me an incidental nod of acknowledgement as a greeting.

A few moments passed before I had the foresight to close my mouth, lest anything fly in. Pritchard said nothing before she joined the rest of the team near the tents. It was like a huge pit yawned between us. One that was both shared history and the pain that we had endured. But I knew that the distance between us was mostly my own creation. Over the past year, it had seemed like she had been above it all. Unshakeable. Ever-loyal to Gladstone. Whereas I had been bitter about my loss and thrown myself into whatever self-destructive behaviours that I could.

But what if she had been just as hurt and in pain as I had been?

Pritchard and Morgan had been quite close, though they came from two different worlds. There had been family picnics and barbeques and a host of various activities that had slowly petered out when my addictions had taken hold. And though Pritchard did not know the exact nature of the rift between my family and I, she had been intuitive enough to know that something was wrong.

Maybe if she had intervened earlier, things would have been different. A part of me resented that she had never reached out. How much would have changed by just one act of kindness?

Stop it, Tom. There’s no point in going over old ground. You’ve a job to do, I chided myself. Find the specimen. Take it in. Go home. Easy as pie.

Gladstone had only just begun his well-rehearsed spiel when I joined them. His eyes narrowed when they alighted on me. I flashed him a grin and gave him a jaunty wave, knowing that it would irk him. He pushed up his glasses and turned away, refusing to rise to the bait. It was a rare moment of wisdom from the man. Or perhaps Gladstone was more concerned about the success of the mission than exchanging petty barbs.

It certainly seemed that way as he droned on in his officious voice, once again going over the extraction procedures and the likely dangers that might be encountered. Perhaps there was more going on behind closed doors if the sweat on his brow and the frantic patter to his words were anything to go by.

As I lowered my hand, I startled at the lidless reptilian eye that stared up at me. A spear of cold fear shot through my heart. Gingerly, I reached out and poked it with the index finger. It didn’t even flinch at the touch. Yet, the moment I made contact, it seemed as if my finger went straight through. I poked it again, feeling only warm flesh as well as a light pain as I scraped skin. Another hallucination. And yet it looked so real.

The world seemed to spin around me.

I staggered over to one side, leaning against the metal crates for support. A moment to breathe. That was all that I needed.

Breathe in…two…three…four…

Out…two…three…four…

Okay. I could do this. Just because I hadn’t taken anything in the last twelve hours didn’t feel I wouldn’t feel any lingering side effects. Maybe it was a sign of withdrawal. What had the doctor said? I wracked my brain, trying to recall the conversation that we had shared nearly a month or two ago.

The memory was piecemeal. Nothing seemed connected.

Frustrated, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and cracked open an eye. This was going nowhere. And if Gladstone knew what was happening, he would see me as a liability. Not that I cared, of course, what the man thought. It was merely my pride on the line.

As I steadied myself for the day ahead, I saw movement at the periphery of my vision. I turned towards the tents and the supply crates. At first, I couldn’t make out anything beyond the norm. And then, I saw them. On the boxes were translucent worm-like creatures. Hundreds. Everywhere. They stretched out towards me, as if sensing my warmth and the life pumping through my veins.

Something slimy and disgusting touched my leg. Then, before I could do anything, it seemed to slither up it.

I jumped, yelping at the top of my voice. It felt like they were all over me and I needed to get them off. I brushed at my arms and slapped at my trouser pants, panic overriding nearly everything.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Had I got them all? Were any still crawling on me?

Eyes turned towards me, taking in the spectacle that I represented. I barely noticed. Consumed by the immediate threat to my person. What would they do? Burrow into my skin? Destroy me from the inside out? I did not want to go out like that. No. My death should be my own choosing.

I did not hear the screams until it was too late.

By the time that I heard the warning, I had almost no time to react. Before I knew it, I found myself face-down in the dirt and there was a piercing pain in my head. For several heartbeats, I lay on the ground stunned as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Were we under attack? Who would fire upon us? And why?

That was when the sound of gunfire filled the air. A shrill screech answered in kind, filled with pain and fear. Head throbbing, I clasped my hands over my ears, unable to bear it. It seemed to go on for hours. Until finally, it stopped.

Blessed relief swept through my body. Slowly, I rose to my feet, dizzy and disorientated. I scanned the beach, my gaze alighting on the tents, somehow untouched, and the body that lay across the pebbles. Heart in my throat, I raced towards it. The short brown locks a familiar sight.

No. No. No. No.

Pritchard was still breathing, albeit shallowly when I reached her. Eyes closed, she looked like she was asleep. I shook her as gently as I could, hoping to awaken her. She did not stir. ‘Come on, Pritchard. Wake up!’

No response. I brushed away her hair and caught a sight of iridescent scales along her brow. They had formed a ridge and were cold to the touch. I recoiled even as I tried to squash the disgust that welled up. The implications supported one of the many theories that had been floated around the laboratory. Had she always been one from the start or had this been a recent transformation?

Could it be contagious?

I dared not think too long on it. Pritchard was hurt. There weren’t any obvious wounds but for what reason would she be lying here insensate when moments before she had been alert, fit and healthy. Unlike me, she had readily volunteered to be a part of Gladstone’s mission.

It was then that I thought to stop and ponder. Where were the others? Glancing around the ruins of the makeshift camp, I could see no sign of the other scientists. Thankfully, I could not make out any immediate dangers either. Pritchard would be safe. For now.

With some effort, I scooped her into my arms. It would not do to have her out in the open and on the hard stones. I nearly tripped on one of the tent pegs when I finally put her down. She did not stir.

Nearby, one of the metal crates sat open, the lid askew. Inside were three or four rifles. I would have liked to have believed that Gladstone would not have provided live rounds. We were a motley crew of scientists and nurses – prone to sitting at desks and conducting experiments, not battlefields. If the ‘specimen’ we sought was not as docile as initially reported, it was entirely possible they would have provided tranquilisers.

But that was not what I had heard earlier. Nor did it seem that the creature that we were after would go quietly.

Behind me, I heard another round of gunfire. Without thinking, I grabbed the first gun I could reach. It almost slipped from my hands. Nothing felt right in my grip. The butt bit into my shoulder. The trigger seemed too far away for my finger. How did someone use these things? It felt unwieldy and far too heavy.

Still, if it meant that I could put a stop to whatever was happening, I would take the opportunity offered to me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of colour and movement to my left. I hurried towards it, weapon up. Though I did not know squat about sight-lines, the basic concept of using a gun was simple. Point and shoot. It would have to do. After all, someone needed to bring this whole thing to a close. Once and for all. Whether that was putting down the specimen or cutting down Gladstone – I couldn’t say. But the insanity that had gripped the laboratory – that had infiltrated my family and the town – needed to reach its final conclusion.

Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of one of the scientists. His name eluded me. It didn’t matter. At the sound of my approach from behind, he whirled around, gun at the ready. There was a crazed look in his eyes, one that implied alarm or panic or both. His face was deathly pale. From just a casual glance, I could see that some injury had caused his nose to bleed.

‘Name!’ he demanded. ‘Don’t lie. I’ll know. All the others…they lied because they weren’t real. Please. I need someone to be real!’ The desperation in his voice sent a chill down my spine. It niggled a part of my brain that said something wasn’t quite right.  

‘Hinds! Tom Hinds. I’m one of you. Us. And I’m real. As real as can be,’ I said, taking a cautious step forward and trying to appear as friendly as was possible. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’

It was as if he did not hear me. As if he were lost in his own world. That was when realisation struck me.

As soon as his finger twitched, I immediately fell prone on the ground. Bullets whizzed over my head. Fuck! I grappled to swing my gun around. Time seemed to slow. Every wasted movement seemed to bring my impending doom ever closer. The man stomped forward. He snarled at the air above me, his lips stretched over his teeth. It was animalistic and territorial.

‘You can’t run from me now. You’re one of them, aren’t you? Well, say something!’

I kept silent – unsure if any answer I provided would placate the man. It was as if he had taken some form of hallucinogenic. The symptoms were all there. He was talking and interacting with something that wasn’t real. That he was carrying a weapon made it all the more complicated.

Desperately, I tried to crawl away. Something had happened to him. I couldn’t say what. Minutes ago, he had been listening patiently to Gladstone, the next…

There was a pregnant pause and then the man cried out in alarm and something dropped to the ground. I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was cradling his arm.  Blood dripped from a new gash. And then, before he could reach for his weapon, he was thrown thirty feet away. He landed with a crunch and remained still.

I scanned the deserted beach, trying to make sense of what I had witnessed. There was no sign of his assailant. A terrible idea gripped me. What if the—No. I quickly shoved the thought to the back of my mind as I scrambled up to my feet, a sudden pounding behind my eyes.

There was no sense in trying to make sense of the impossible. It would only serve to pull me down an endless spiral – straight into the abyss. I needed to find the ‘specimen’ and put a stop to all this madness.

As I scoured the beach for Gladstone, I stumbled upon two harrowing encounters. One was Lopez. Just like the nameless scientist before him, he seemed unaware of my presence. Lost in his own world, gun cast aside, it almost looked like he was trying to settle into a domesticated life atop the rocks even as the waves threatened to knock him down. When I tried to talk to him, he knocked me aside as if I as just the buzzing of a fly in his ear.

Stunned and confused, I watched as he continued to speak in Tagalog to people that were not there. From the distress on his face, it appeared as if he was embroiled in a domestic argument. It was uncanny and disturbing.

Yet, no matter how many times I tried, I could not wake him from the delusions that gripped him. It was on my last attempt that I was pushed aside that I saw the rogue wave building up. Too late, I shouted my warning. But it was as if he did not hear a word. I watched, in mute horror, as the wave crashed into him and dragged him out to sea.

Another soul I had failed to save.

The second person I met on that lonely beach was Patricia Hastings. Though we had not worked together in the past, I knew Patricia from the work she had done on genetic modification. Her reputation proceeded her in academic circles, mired though it was in controversy. In the last few years, the media had portrayed her as an overly ambitious woman driven only by the thirst of knowledge and what could be done, ethics be damned.

With her back facing me, I had, at first, thought that she had escaped whatever ailment that had afflicted the others. But as I cautiously approached, I realised that something was wrong. Patricia stood as still as a statue. Her eyes moved from left to right and back again as if she was tracking something. In fact, she barely seemed to blink. When I waved my arm in front of her face, she did not respond.

Just as I turned to leave, Patricia uttered a low guttural moan. She took one step forward before collapsing to the ground. When I reached her, her eyes were still open – endlessly tracking whatever it was she was seeing. A cursory examination revealed that her heartbeat was slower than average and she felt a tad bit colder.

For several terrifying minutes, I debated my next actions. I could not, in good conscience, leave her unattended. What if she was suffering from a stroke or a seizure? How could I leave her here?

The other part of my brain, however, whispered that the only way to solve the problem was to track down the ‘specimen’ and kill it. There had been numerous reports from the retrieval team that many of the men had experienced both auditory and visual hallucinations. Some had even killed themselves.

While the creatures that we had experimented on in the lab had demonstrated any such abilities, it was clear that we were facing a much greater threat than Gladstone had advised us in the briefings.

In the end, cold ruthless logic won through. There was naught I could do for Patricia. For all I knew, killing the monstrosity would free the others from whatever power had ensnared their senses.

What I dared not consider was why I had not been affected.

For twenty odd minutes, I searched high and low for where Gladstone might have disappeared to. But the beach was empty of all save a few of the volunteer task force.

As I rounded the headland, the sea roaring beside me, I spotted spatters of blue on the rocks. Some of it was still wet. Bending down, I touched it with a finger. Many of the creatures that we had experimented upon had blood rich in iron. Perhaps, because, many were still humanoid in appearance. The one Gladstone had sent us to chase, however, was different. It was possible that it might share more similarities with cephalopods or certain species of fish.

For the first time in a long while, excitement thrummed through me. If this was true, then we might have stumbled upon something ground-breaking. This discovery was sure to push our understanding of the human genome. Diseases might be cured. Cancer would just be a footnote in medical history! We would finally show the naysayers the power of science. Finally, we could refine what God had created and fix the flaws in our own design!

The possibilities were endless! Gladstone was too small in his focus. If we could only uncover the secrets behind these creatures, the secrets we could uncover…

At what cost, though? If these creatures were sentient, what right did I have to take experiment on them? At what point would it be okay to cross that line? The thought gave me pause and sobered me from the grandiose ideals that gripped me. Was it worth the lives of everyone dear to me? What about my ever-slipping sanity? I could not keep doing these things. Cutting into their bodies, trying to figure out their physiology…what had any of that accomplished over the last four years?

Murderer. Butcher.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. Find Gladstone. Find the specimen.

~

The sun had begun to set, the chill wind biting into my bones, when I spotted the cave cut into the side of the cliff. Just outside the entrance, on the huge plateau, was a huge spray of blue. Mixed in was one set of boot prints. If I was right, that meant Gladstone had followed after the specimen. I hurried into the cave, gun at the ready. There was no telling what I would encounter inside. For all I knew, Gladstone might have killed the abomination. Or, perhaps, the reverse was true.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

One way or another, this would end.

Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I stalked into the gloom. Far ahead, I heard the drip drop of water hitting rock. As for Gladstone or the monster, there was no sign.

I continued forward, my eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through. A part of me worried what would happen if I did not find Gladstone or the specimen before nightfall. Foremost in my thoughts were Patria Hasting and Laura Pritchard. With a concerted effort, I shook my head to clear it of my fears. I would cross that bridge when I got there.

Distracted, I did not see that the passageway sloped downwards. I stepped into air and felt my heart lurch as I tipped forward. A frightened cry left my lips, arms pinwheeling.

As the ground rushed up towards me, I managed to catch myself on the slippery rocks. The heels of my palm barked with pain, along with my knees. I took a shuddering breath in to steady myself. Felt it leave. And then took another breath even as I began to play a familiar refrain within the confines of my brain. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. God. I had been so stupid!

If that hadn’t tipped Gladstone or the creature off…

I scrambled back to my feet and dusted myself off before taking a look at my new surroundings. The cavern was huge. Ahead, I saw the path branch into three separate openings. Centred above the crossroads a narrow shaft allowed the fading light of the afternoon in. It did little against the darkness.

Which way to go?

There was no sign or clue as to which way they had gone. But instead of trusting to luck, I waited. Closing my eyes, I strained my ears for the slightest sound. I’d look like a fool but it was my one recourse. If they had thought I had fallen, perhaps they would drop their guard and make a mistake that I could capitalise on.

Seconds bled into minutes. It was as if the entire world was holdings its breath.

Somewhere in the darkness, I heard a strange scuffling sound. A feral grin stretched across my face as I dashed towards the opening on my right. Within moments, whoever was in front realised their mistake. They broke into a run, the pitter-patter of their footsteps echoing through the cavern.

I raced after them, lungs burning and legs threatening to buckle out from beneath me. Still, I pressed on. I could not afford to lose the opportunity before me.

Movement ahead lent a burst of speed and suddenly, we emerged into another open area. The last vestiges of sunlight filtered through, casting the large lake in a rainbow of colour. At the centre of the subterranean waterway was a small platform, on which sat a forgotten shrine made of driftwood and refuse.

Ensnared by the beauty of the scene before me, I forgot, for the briefest of moments, what had led me there. Until, an elbow flew straight for my nose. There was a loud crunch and a sudden intense pain. Blood spurted. The world seemed to shift in and out of focus as I tried to stem the flow.

And then Gladstone was running down towards the lake and the shrine at the centre. He looked over his shoulder, the expression on his face was a mixture of fear and spite. The thin strands of hair on his head were dull and greasy, plastered to his scalp. His clothes were tattered. In his hands, he held a strange box-like object.

Fuelled by rage, I grabbed hold of my rifle. I aimed down the sights. I pulled the trigger and a burst of gunfire exploded from the other end. The shots went wild, missing by a wide margin. Gladstone risked another glance over his shoulder, a smirk on his smarmy face. God. How I wanted to wipe it off. Pritchard did not deserve the hell he had put her through. Nor had any of the others.

Cursing under my breath, I gave chase.

I cornered him in front of the shrine, weapon at the ready. At this range, there was no way I would miss. A stitch was forming in my side but I refused to acknowledge it as I wheezed – desperately trying to get air in my lungs.

‘It’s over, Gladstone!’ I panted, dying for a drink or a smoke or something that would take the edge off the pain. ‘I don’t know what you intended to do, but it ends now.’

Gladstone turned around. ‘Hinds,’ he sneered, slicking back his hair with one hand. ‘Why am I not surprised? You’ve been a thorn in my side since the moment you joined the team.’

‘This isn’t a negotiation. I have the gun.’ I made a show of tightening my finger on the trigger. ‘Put down the box, Gladstone. Surrender. Once we put down the creature, everything can go back to normal and—’

It began as a chuckle. Before I knew it, Gladstone was doubled over with laughter. His free hand, slapping his knee.

‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded. ‘Stop fucking laughing!’ God, I wanted to hurt him so bad. If only I could march up to him, hit him in the stomach with the butt of the rifle…

Gladstone straightened and wiped the tears from the corner of his eye. ‘Ah, Hinds. Always dreaming too small.’

‘Cut the cryptic shit, Gladstone. You were never a proper scientist. Instead, you were a small insignificant man with delusions of grandeur. A middle-management pencil pusher. That’s what you’ve always been. And what you’ll always be. The life of an academic too hard and difficult for you, eh?’

I watched as his face went red and his posture go rigid. ‘You know nothing about me,’ he snarled. ‘All the years that I poured into my research and the price I’ve paid to keep my project…this project afloat. So, don’t try and get up on that high horse of yours and preach to me.’

‘Yeah, well, this project is being shut down.’

‘You’re too late. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The Elder Gods are coming. When they step through the veil and into our world, I’ll be waiting. Ever loyal. Along with the Herald. To be rewarded for my service and dedication to the cause.’ Madness gleamed from his eyes as he let out a low chuckle. ‘Even though you tried to pull me down, I rose. Triumphant.’

Before I could stop him, he turned and slammed the box-like object down onto a small pedestal in front of the shrine. A dark glow began to emanate from the shrine, pulsing with power and evil intent.

The air grew heavy. Oppressive. There was a sudden ringing in my ears. It was sharp and insistent, bringing me to my knees.

My finger tugged at the trigger. Before I could cut Gladstone down, the world around me warped and fell away. Suddenly, I was surrounded by four white padded walls. Orderlies banged against the sealed metal door. They wanted to get in. To stop me from what I had to do. My heart thudded in my chest. I couldn’t let them stop me. To sedate me. To drug me.

I screwed my eyes up tight, grit my teeth and forced myself to calm. It was the same old nightmare that I had experienced again and again after Morgan, June and Jasper had taken that ill-fated drive up towards the cliff. I focused on the dirt beneath my boots, the weight of the rifle in my hands, the ebb and flow of the water…

Hesitantly, I cracked open one eye. I was back in the cavern. Good. Still standing a few metres away was Gladstone. He was crouched over the box, mumbling under his breath. The glow had faded and his body language screamed thwarted ambition. I caught only a few words. Something about ancient texts and a prophecy. I gave it no heed as I squeezed the trigger and felt the impact of the stock thumping into my shoulder.

Gladstone fell.

For a single moment, it felt as if a weight was lifted from my shoulders and everything was right again with the world. But then the box began to throb once more. I watched in horror as it slowly began to float in the air and spin and spin and spin. A rip formed in the air just above the shrine. It was dark and cold and menacing. Something reached through and the mere sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned. And ran.

To stay would have only sealed my doom.

Breathless, I emerged from the cave and into a tempest. The winds raged and the sea roiled as if in answer to what Gladstone had unleashed.

There was nowhere to hide. No place that was safe from their wrath. I could not say how I knew that fact. Only that I did. Still, there was Hastings to think of. And Pritchard too. None of them had asked for this. If I could save them then perhaps there was still hope for me still.

Something struck me from behind and I was flung to the ground, the rifle flying into the water. Pain thrummed through every part of my body except for my right arm, which seemed to be non-responsive. I staggered to my feet and kept going. Death waited but I would not go into that sweet oblivion without a fight.

Each step sapped what little of my strength remained. The distance from where I was and the tents seemed to grow. I fell to my knees, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. Though I shouted at myself to move, my body refused to acknowledge my commands. I lay on the pebbles and stared up at the storm as lightning flashed and rain peppered my face.

I could not say how long I stayed there as oblivion tempted me with sweet release. It would be so easy to simply let go. After all, I had tried to do good in the world. My intentions had been for the noblest of reasons. Surely, whoever manned the pearly gates would see that and consider me worthy of entering Elysium.  

A siren song pulled me from my thoughts. I craned my neck towards the rising waves and saw what must have been a final gift. Morgan, June and Jasper – whole and without blemish. With the last remaining ounce of strength that I had, I crawled towards them. It couldn’t be. And yet, it was. Right before my very eyes.

The unshed tears that I had refused to let fall burned as I made my way into the surf.

Finally, I could be reunited with them. With that thought in mind, I allowed myself to sink into the soft embrace of the water and let it carry me away.

[purplesurveys]

1147

Have you ever overflown a bathtub? Hmm, I can’t remember ever doing that.

Why did you ignore the last person you ignored? My new manager, Kata, messaged me a bunch of links to EXO’s videos to get me into them – I looooove that she’s friendly and we vibe super well so I have a feeling will be close soon enough, but I’m still a bit shy so I ignored her for a bit while I was thinking of a reply haha. I’ve since gotten back to her, though.

What's your favorite pizza place? Yellow Cab’s pizzas have never failed me. Mama Lou’s is good too, but they don’t deliver to my area so I haven’t had their pizzas and any of their food in over a year now.

What was the last stupid thing someone talked you into believing? That we can stay friends. I believed it for a while and it was so mentally and emotionally deteriorating for me, so I did the right thing and let go instead.

What's at the top of your to do list in life? Save. I’m superrrrr frugal with my money and hate spoiling myself. I’d rather enjoy everything in the future once I feel like it’s right to settle down.

What's a song that would describe your life at the moment? What Type of X by Jessi. Maybe not my life, but the song certainly matches my mood these days.

Do you ever scream at inanimate objects? Occasionally, if they’re not working or if I accidentally hurt myself with them.

What was the last thing that you shared? I just had lunch delivered to Angela’s place as a surprise, if that counts. I got her chicken wings and these chocolate chip cookies she’s always wanted to try. It feels really nice surprising people with gifts; I might start making it a habit :) I have to credit my director Bea for it - she’s been having food delivered to mine and Kata’s places recently and I just want to pay it forward.

What smell/s can you absolutely not stand? Fruits. We constantly have a stock of oranges because my parents and sister like having them after dinner, and the smell is nauseating. Spoiled food is also high up on my list, and the general smell in Manila is also very foul. Go to other places in the Philippines if you’ll ever visit!!!

Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yessssssssssssssss. Idk why but I find it really good? like even if I eat it straight out of the fridge.

Where are you the most ticklish? The sides of my stomach and around my neck.

Would you put your life in danger to rescue someone? Someone absolutely important to me, yes.

When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? I usually don’t really like the snacks we have in our pantry so unless I already had food delivered earlier in the evening I just let the hunger fade because I don’t like having food delivered that late anyway.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Buster from Toy Story. Or Maximus from Tangled but in dog form, because I don’t know how to care for a horse.

What color best represents you? Something peaceful like off-white, or a pastel shade.

Do you like marshmallows? I hate them.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I also don’t like candy canes, or candy in general. Too sweet and I can always feel how unhealthy they are whenever I have to have them.

Do you have any shoeboxes full of old photos/letters/other memorable stuff? My mom has several plastic bags filled with photographs over the last few decades. As for me, I don’t own any memory boxes; but recently, I’ve been sticking up notes from my friends and co-workers up on my corkboard.

Are you in any way double jointed? Nope.

Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? Never. I never liked singing in public and I’ve never considered acting.

When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? A few days ago when I accidentally turned my camera on during a work Zoom meeting while I looked completely unpresentable. Luckily I knew I clicked the button and immediately un-clicked it, but my video still showed up for like 0.001 seconds lol.

Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? I don’t think I’ve gone so far as to hate it. I have felt slightly disturbed upon hearing the lyrics of some songs I’ve taken a liking to though; and Cherry Wine by Hozier certainly ticks off this box.

Which is worse for you: being hot, or being cold? Hot, which is why living where I do doesn’t work with me well for the most part.

What would be the icing on the cake for you this Christmas? Get nicer gifts for my loved ones. I was able to get everyone presents last Christmas, but given that I had just received my first-ever salary then, I wasn’t able to go all out as much as I would’ve liked. I’d love to spoil my loved ones even more for next Christmas.

If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? Probably, as long as I was guaranteed to live comfortably. I’d love to see how else technology can continue to improve.

Have you made someone happy today? I hope so, when I got Angela food earlier.

Do you generally watch a lot of television? I do watch my favorite shows a lot, but not on television. Most of my content I already consume online.

If your bedroom walls could talk, what would they most likely say? They’d probably go over all the shit I had to go through and the ensuing breakdowns they’ve had to watch from me over the years.

What's your favorite Christmas song? It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, because it makes me feel festive.

Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? Only for a brief moment when I was introduced to the concept, but kid-me never bought it because he never showed up.

Do you like the band Relient K? I’ve heard of the band name but I’m largely unfamiliar with them.

Have you ever seen a movie that was better than the book it was based on? Maybe, but for the most part I usually find the books to be better.

Do you like quesadillas? Yes, omg and with jalapeños and cheese *chef’s kiss*

Did you like the show Invader Zim? Nope.

Do you think tomorrow will be a good day? I feel like I’ll be sullen because it will be Sunday again, but I still plan on making the most out of it.

Do you ever talk to yourself? A lot.

Whose butt did you last slap? Idk, probably my ex.

Do you think that chivalry is dead? I don’t think so, but I also think it’s a bit outdated.

What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? That’s a lot of pressure on a song... as much as I don’t really like The Beatles, I’d say Hey Jude has been pretty influential.

What's the weirdest thing you've seen in a grocery store? Not sure. If I had thought something I’ve seen was the weirdest thing ever, I would’ve taken a photo.

What is true love to you? Sacrifices.

Do you like chocolate milk? YES, lactose intolerance be damned.

Have you ever bought yourself a present on Christmas? Not yet. I hope to be able to this year!

Have you ever been on a mechanical bull? Nope, but I’d definitely get on one if I find one here.

Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? Slowly. Actually, I prefer running water over it until it just slides off.

Have you made a mistake in the past week? I am constantly making tiny mistakes at work.

What was the last weird thing you said to someone? Idk, I feel like all the conversations I’ve had recently didn’t involve any inside jokes or general weirdness.

Have you ever met any bands/band members before? I got to work with one - Redd is the drummer for a local band but he’s since resigned to work with another company.

Have you ever sat on a copy machine and made copies of your butt? No. I’ve never even used a copy machine.

Are you a camera whore? Not at all, I hate posing for the camera.

Have you ever purposely dropped someone's toothbrush in a toilet? Never even considered it.

What kind of mood are you in right now? A little sad because it’s the weekend and I can’t even do my weekend coffee shop trips anymore because Covid cases are experiencing another surge (9000 cases a day!!!), protocols are everywhere again, and my parents already told me I can’t go out...those moments were my rare time alone where I can take walks and reflect and whatnot (and not to mention experieince air conditioning for a few hours), so it sucks to have to be stuck at home again. There’s not much to do at home to begin with, so now I’m just stuck in a cycle of taking surveys and finding videos to watch on YouTube.

What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? I was ranting to Andi about how I started despising Diane from BoJack Horseman the moment she flipped out over Mr. Peanutbutter gifting her an entire library. I get where she’s coming from, of course, “understand people’s love language” and all that; but I felt like the very hostile reaction was super uncalled for and it reminded me a lot of my relationship with Gabie – I liked giving and giving, but it was either 1) never enough or 2) apparently the wrong way to show her love, and I was always the one punished for it in the end. I told Andi that because of my experience with her, I don’t even feel like giving a library (metaphorically speaking) to any future significant others anymore because of how hard I had it with her. 

Anyway, they gave me some advice about it and in the end they told me, “One day, someone will tell you, “Thank you for your library.’” It was very beautifully put and I struggled to find the words to reply.

What's something that always makes you smile, regardless of what’s going on? I’m not sure there is such a no-fail thing.

What was that last thing that you bought online? Food for Angela.

Do you enjoy riding around town looking at Christmas lights? Yeah, but the general mood for last year obviously wasn’t super festive and there weren’t as much lights, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen my village all decked out.

Is there someone that you're mean to for no good reason? No, that’s terrible.

What was the last thing you got out of the freezer? The coffee ice cream that I bought from Leigh yesterday! It’s crazy fucking good and I already feel a repeat order coming through.

Are you currently reading anything? No.

What's a good book you'd recommend? I don’t read anymore. I know child/teen-me would be very disappointed.

[youdonknowaboutme]

First, There’s Sierra. Then, There’s Bash.

Roller Derby has been my dream since I was fifteen years old. I saw “Whip It” in 2009 and fell in love. I always said that if there’s one thing I regret, it’s not starting sooner. I thought about that for a moment and realized that things fell into place exactly when they were supposed to. Every derby player I know will tell you that it came into their lives when they needed it the most. I believe in this theory wholeheartedly. This beautiful, all-inclusive sport saved my soul.

It took a broken person,

Turned her into a beast,

And slapped her with the name “Bash.”

My given name is Sierra. My name was almost Savannah until parents heard the name Sierra being thrown around in a Burger King. My derby name is Khloe KarBash-u-in, but my teammates call me “Bash.” My derby name is more than just a name on the back of my jersey. 

I knew I was meant for this when going through old photo albums at my parents house. I came across a photo of me in a sassy pose, wearing Barbie skates in my grandma’s kitchen. Even though it was 1997, my dad says that he still catches me with the same look on my face. Some things never change. The only difference between now and then is that I ditched the fanny pack. 

My parents were very surprised when I told them I started playing Roller Derby. I do admit, it was pretty out of the blue - over lunch at KFC. I thought it was a little strange that they never expressed any worry about me getting hurt. Maybe they thought it was just another phase? Honestly, I think they were more skeptical than anything because I sucked at every sport I ever played growing up. I was never really the “aggressive” type. When they saw me play for the first time, I don’t think they were too impressed because I was still new. I admit that I was never a Bambi when I first drafted, I was always pretty stable on my skates...just a little lost.

I started training with the Treasure Valley Rollergirls in January 2017. I remember my first practice so vividly because it was held in a barn that was so cold, I could see my breath while skating. Our coach said, “You should all be proud of yourselves for showing up. There are a lot of people who want to do this but don’t have the courage yet.” I have carried this with me since day 1. So I don’t just play this sport for me, but I also play for the ones who aren’t quite ready to lace up a pair of skates. 

I will forever be grateful to the Treasure Valley Rollergirls for giving me my introduction to derby. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite what they were looking for. They were looking for someone who was secure with themselves and what they were capable of. I didn’t possess that kind of confidence. I skated my last practice with TVR on a Wednesday and 24 hours later, I rolled into my very first practice with the Beet City Bombers. By this time, it was March 2018. 

Treasure Valley taught me how to skate.

Beet City taught me how to derby. 

I received the best of both worlds (insert Hannah Montana singing). 

On June 14, I became a drafted player for BCB. Aside from my high school and college graduations, draft night will go down in my personal history as being one of my greatest achievements. It was a very liberating experience for me because it was the most confident I ever felt in my life. When you spend a year in a half working your ass off for something you’ve wanted since you were a teenager, you would probably feel the same way. 

I’m not going to say I never had any opportunities to start derby sooner. When I was in high school, TVR’s very own Demolition Barbie used to work at my local library. TVR’s Draculatte was a barista on the NNU campus. The Rollerdrome gave me the contact information for BCB in 2013. 

I waited and that’s okay. 

I may have been confident on draft night but that was just a moment in memory lane. As a new skater, I wanted to see where I belonged on the track by trying everything. I probably tried every position on the track before I formed a tight bond with the outside line. 2020 is going to be a little different, as our team is smaller now and I have morphed into a backwards facing blocker. This last practice, my teammates and coach encouraged me to start jamming. Apparently, I’ve had secret jamming skills this whole time but never realized it. My derby is ever-changing.

My lack of confidence has played a huge part in my derby story. I’m an emotional person who struggles with depression and anxiety. My fear of failure is no secret to my teammates. I’ve had emotional breakdowns at games that were almost impossible to get through. When our team won, I would feel like they won without me. I say this from experience: tears and glitter don’t mix. 

Last summer, I took almost 2 weeks off to go on vacation with my family. It gave me time to get away and make a game plan for my comeback. I had an epiphany and discovered that derby wasn’t my first love, skating was. I started going to practice an hour early, three days a week just to skate. 

Some call it crazy,

I call it therapy. 

I can’t describe the feeling I get when I skate, but I can tell you that there’s nothing I would rather be doing in that moment. Skating gives me wings and brings me peace. 

The most difficult thing for me as a derby player so far is coming to the realization that I’m not going to be the best of the best overnight. In fact, I learned that this whole outlook is completely skewed. Roller Derby is about being my best and whatever that may entail, which is emulated by the choices I make to be the player I want to be.

This is my blog and I can speak my truth:

You can be a great derby player and a poor skater.

You can also be a great skater and a poor derby player.

My choice is to be an equal combination of both, which is entirely possible if you put the work in.

I separated skating skating and derby. Skating is mine and no one can take that away from me. I’m in complete control with no obstacles getting in my way, just the polish concrete in front of me. Someone suggested to me once that I treat my skating as a form of worship. I didn’t quite understand what she meant at the time. When I skate, it’s like the building I’m in is my church and I’m worshipping God through my skating. The feeling I get is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, I’m so in love with it. Skating will always be my greatest passion and derby is a close second. 

Derby on the other hand, isn’t about me at all, it’s about us. 

Skating is me,

Derby is we. 

We are more than just a group of women hitting each other on quad skates, vying for the crowd’s reaction (although that is lovely feeling). By making this clear distinction between skating and derby, my entire perspective has changed. I’ve become a better player and a better teammate because of it. 

I often think how different my life would be without derby. If it wasn’t for derby, I would have never fallen in love with with skating. Without the connections of our community, my living and work situation would be entirely different. I would have never met my best friend. I would have never gained a second family. I wouldn’t have the memories and I wouldn’t have the support.

Roller Derby may be one of the only sports in the world where you can hit someone at full force and hug it out afterwards. It’s the fastest growing sport in the world for a reason. 

Thanks for tuning in! It’s great to have a platform where I get to share my thoughts with the world. It’s even better to know that people are reading them.

All my derby love,

Sierra/Bash 

[noncanonlove]

Trust

This piece is a companion piece of Compromises and its predecessor Choices.

Draco tightened the knot down until the silk blindfold was snug, but still comfortable. He gently tapped the tails with his wand, satisfied now that they wouldn’t budge until he removed them.

He spun her around and looked her over. Jeans, a jumper, her favorite fall boots and her Gryffindor scarf. He inhaled secretly, silently, and caught a whiff of himself on her. Once he scrutinized her more closely he could just see a bit of a t-shirt underneath the jumper at the collar. Must be one of his, but he couldn’t understand why she was wearing it. Neither had gone anywhere since the day before last.

He looked over the loaded clothes hamper and peeked into the breast pocket of his coat, ensuring that the picnic basket was still there before shrinking and adding the hamper in there with it, charming the pocket closed afterwards.

She jumped slightly when he closed his hands around her shoulders, a grin shooting to her lips as he directed her through the house and out to the back yard where his broom waited. At the presence of its owner, it practically vibrated until he took it in hand. Hermione had went stiff as he mounted it and wouldn’t so much as budge when he went to guide her onto it.

“Draco Malfoy, is that a broom you’re trying to get me on?” she asked somewhat shrilly.

Great Merlin, she’d flown a thestral bare back to London and here she was afraid of a little broom ride with him. Well, according to Potter, with literally anyone, but still.

He dismounted, leaving the broom hovering next to them. He spun her to face him, his hands moving up to cup her face.

“Would I ever, ever let anything happen to you?” he asked quietly.

“Well no, but,” she said hesitantly, getting cut off by Draco, who knew better than to let her get anywhere.

“Would I not give my very life for yours?” he stroked her cheeks tenderly as he asked.

“Yes, of course you would,” she murmured, rubbing her nose against his before he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Don’t you trust me?” He replied, just as quietly.

“Of course I do,” she said, shoulders sagging.

If she’d seen the way he brightened at his win she’d surely have smacked him.

Draco took a brief moment to savor the victory as he turned her back into position to mount the broom after he got back on it.

He’d made good on his promise to her in the bedroom three weeks ago and admittedly life had gotten largely better and dare he say, almost to how he remembered it before all of this Veela absurdity had awoken inside him.

He could only imagine what Hermione really thought, deep down, about his need to have this be as close to a normal relationship as possible, but it was important to him. He’d never admit it even under threat of the cruciatus, but ever since his father had told him in detail about how one day he would court and woo a woman to become his wife he’d secretly been dreaming up plans for when the time came and there was no way he was abandoning them now. Hermione was worth courting properly regardless of the circumstances. At Draco’s request Lucius had recounted his own courting process, including as many details as he could remember. It was easily one of Draco’s favorite memories, how they’d sat before the fire together over tea and Lucius had become unusually unguarded.

He shook off the memories as he got himself situated.

Draco maneuvered her onto the broom in front of him, settling her as best as he could before he kicked off. Biting his lip not to laugh at her panicked squeal, but it was likely she felt it as his chest shook with it if the slap to the thigh was any indicator. He floated not five feet off the ground, pausing to get her sorted first.

He’d made to remove a hand from the handle but she’d grabbed his arm in a death grip once he’d lifted it no more than six inches.

“Hermione, let go of my hand, please,” he asked.

“But-” she was interrupted.

“I thought you said you trusted me,” he said, inflecting a bit of hurt into his voice, an old habit of his to soothe her into letting him have his way.

He could tell it was with great effort that she peeled her fingers off of his person, trembling like a leaf. He pressed a kiss of thanks to the back of her neck as he slid his arm firmly around her waist, bringing her tightly against him.

Apparently this was the right move because he felt her slowly relaxing against him infinitesimally. She laid her head back on his shoulder, still leaning snugly against him, and took a deep breath in and out.

He guided the broom higher in the air and looked at the view, saddened that she couldn’t enjoy the glorious fall evening. It made him resolve to take her on more broom rides until she realized that with him, at least, it could be a good experience.

She’d tucked her face against his neck and had been breathing him in during the ride, which pleased something within him. It was blissfully satisfying for Hermione to seek comfort in him, especially in that manner.

He’d guided them easily across the forest until he spotted the clearing he’d been to earlier in the day while she’d been out.

They touched down with ease, he helping her back to her own two feet before dismounting and propping it against the enormous old oak.

She waited quietly, tilting her head this way and that to try to determine if she could figure anything out about their location based on sound alone.

He unshrunk everything and set up the picnic, thrice charming the blanket to be cushioned before he turned back to her and removed her blindfold.

She gasped as she looked around the area. They were beneath an enormous, old oak tree in a large clearing surrounded by trees that had changed to a myriad of colors with the season and were slowly losing their leaves, some of which floated across the surface of the small pond. It was completely silent and so she guessed how far they were removed from anything. Her eyes drifted across the fairy lights that had been placed all along the branches above them as well as the trunk of the tree, then followed the large circle of wide, squat urns that were filled with bluebell flames.

It wasn’t dark yet, but she could tell that the area would be well lit even after the sun went down. Her eyes drifted to the picnic blanket he’d set up, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. It filled her in lazy tendrils and she couldn’t stop the stupid, happy grin from curling across her mouth. Her hand squeezed his and she decided that the broom ride had been worth it.

He could feel her happiness and appreciation tingle at the edges of his consciousness, basking in it before leading her to the blanket. They sat close together and he served her a small plate with a bit of all the offerings before pouring them wine.

They slowly ate, talking about any and everything. She regaled him of tales from Hogwarts, particularly of how they’d rescued buckbeak, to his exaggerated, plaintive sigh. She’d laughed hard at that, throwing hear head back with it, as if he could keep the grudge that long. He couldn’t stop his own silly grin as he drank her in.

He signaled her to excuse him a moment as her laughter began to die down. He retrieved a small stereo from behind the tree and charmed it on. The dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald and the accompanying 50′s jazz horns filled the area, to her great surprise. He returned to the blanket and offered her his hand, silently asking for a dance.

She let him pull her up before sliding her arms around his neck. Another smile curled her mouth as his warm hands rested on her hips, pulling her against him as they swayed, heads tucked against one another.

Many songs later she looked up and marveled. It was fully dark, but much to her earlier guess, the area was still well lit. She couldn’t stop the thought of how she hoped her wedding one day would look similarly enchanting, a dreamy expression drifting across her features. She felt something else too, a hint of power that told her that this area was rich in old magic. Sacred, something whispered in her mind and suddenly the date meant even more important to her. Nobody had ever done anything remotely like this before and it made her fall that much more in love with him.

“May I kiss you?” he murmured.

She nodded and then his hot mouth was pressed against hers, gently at first, then ever more hungry, as if he were a man starved. Her hands tangled themselves in his silky hair as his hands splayed across her back and held her against him.

He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as they breathed heavily.

“I would like to pleasure you,” he requested hoarsely.

She could only nod, stealing the opportunity to nip at his lips.

He walked her backwards over to where she discovered he’d summoned his favorite wood and leather wing back chair. Somehow, amongst the flickering lights and the fall foliage it looked like it belonged there, a throne drenched in magic.

He undressed her slowly, taking in the sight of her as if he’d never seen her before, paying each newly discovered area its due with his mouth and stroking hands. By the end, she was naked, small shivers running through her at the thrill of the situation.

He sat in a slouch, pulling her into his lap, situating her so that her back was to his chest, her legs draped across his thighs to hang along the outside of his. He pulled her hair to the side, his mouth exploring along her neck, nipping and kissing a range from her ear to her shoulder. His hands toured her reverently, up her outer thighs and sides, around her rib cage to cup her breasts and tease her nipples. He drunk in each and every groan, sigh and stuttering breath, watching her greedily.

“Put your hands on the arm rests,” he breathed against her.

She did as asked and he rewarded her by drifting his hands down across her quivering stomach, her pubic bone and along the tops of her thighs as far as he could reach. Her flesh was so sensitive from all of the focused attention he’d given her in combined with the old magic she still keenly felt. She watched under hooded eyes as his long, thin fingers drug trails up her inner thighs and across her lips. Her hips jerked against his when he parted her finally with one hand, stroking her exposed clit with the other before sliding down to her slit. She was already slick from his previous attention, to his immense pleasure. He gathered some on two fingers, returning them to her clit where he began to rub slow circles.

Her groans and keens spurred him to move faster, the one hand keeping her spread returning to toy with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples in turn between long, nimble fingers. She began squirming against his lap, making him hiss as she ground into his hard cock.

He nipped at her lobe again, “Let me pleasure you,” he requested hoarsely in her ear.

She made herself go limp against him, her knuckles white from gripping the arms. It was hard not to participate but somewhere in the back of her pleasure hazed mind she recognized this experience as a way to show that she trusted him as much as she professed to. She’d allowed him to undress her in a strange location, no questions asked and carnally pleasure her, asking her to rely on him to bring her satisfaction. Hermione had never been able to give up that much of her control before, ever.

Her moans turned to keens as he drove her ever closer to the brink. All it took to rip the screams from her throat and turn her vision white was a small bite to her shoulder, the action juxtaposing so sharply with all the other care he’d bestowed upon her. She’d expected him to stop but had to firmly stop herself from squirming against him again when he’d merely slowed down after she came back down.

The hand on her breast drifted down to stroke her lips for a moment before he slipped two fingers inside her, experimentally feeling her from this angle until he found the sweet place that made her keen again, paying rapt attention to it as he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Draco,” she whimpered, the desire to squirm strong.

He shushed her soothingly as his fingers increased their pace until she screamed for him again, fluids rushing out to coat his fingers.

After she began coming down he slowed his fingers to a stop and gathered her up, cuddling her close against him.

“Thank you,” he breathed into her hair.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she said drowsily.

“Nonsense, this is the best evening I’ve had in years,” he gently insisted.

She merely hummed in appreciation and burrowed closer against him.

He drank her in for a while as she rested content in his embrace. Finally he silently summoned all of their things and his broom, shrinking everything and returning it to a pocket. He pulled out the silk covered portkey from a pouch that had been stuffed down next to the cushion and held out the bauble for her. She looked slightly relieved to not have to ride a broom in this state and touched the small glass orb, blinking when she suddenly found them back in their living room.

He didn’t give her a chance to stand, however, carrying her to bed and tucking her in, stealing one more kiss before she was gone to dreams for a while. He lay there beside her, head propped up on one arm as he watched over her.

So few people trusted him and it amazed him to no ends that she did entirely.

He rubbed at his sternum absently. He’d been drawn to the area every time he’d went flying but had found himself increasingly compelled to land there. Once he had given in, he discovered why. Old magic of the purer variety was concentrated there and it was what had drawn him in. He couldn’t think of a better place for this evening aside from there. It had helped anchor the bond they were building together. It would have happened anyway, but this was special and rare. Something he couldn’t not give to her.

He looked forward to feeding that voracious need for knowledge on the subject that would come roaring back to life tomorrow. He would also have to talk to her about returning there for other things but he had a feeling she wouldn’t mind. Part 4/? of the series is Reminders

[syntaxeme]

Needs Met ch. 1 [Moicy]

[Read on AO3] [Next Chapter (coming soon)] Rating: M Notes: This story involves Ph*rmercy elements. It also involves cheating. If you’re bothered by one or both of those things, please just ignore the story! I’m not here to engage in any kind of ship war or to encourage it among others.

Summary:  By some cruel twist of fate, Angela finds herself once again working with Moira O’Deorain, an ex with whom she had a particularly complicated (D/s) relationship. Unfortunately for Angela, her thoughts and feelings about Moira refuse to stay in the past. Realizing that the stability and control Moira offers are things she still craves, she finds her pride bending to her own desires. No, not desires. Needs.

— — –

Throughout the entire mission, Angela kept her eyes to herself. She went to the side of anyone who needed her, was mindful of her companions and her surroundings—but no more than “mindful.” She didn’t look closely. She didn’t listen for a particular voice. To be plain, she wasn’t all there. Not to say that anyone suffered for it, but she was very aware of her own condition. Maybe if she had been informed of these unusual circumstances ahead of time, it wouldn’t have affected her so much. Maybe not.

“I much appreciated your aid, Angela. I doubt we would have succeeded without it.” That voice. That was the one she had been trying to ignore all day. Not the words spoken, as they were more than competent, inventive, helpful (as expected) to the mission. The sound itself was what affected her.

“You’re exaggerating,” she answered coolly. “I was only doing my part, Doctor O’Deorain.” Of course, she had known that she wouldn’t escape Moira’s presence altogether. Now that they’d boarded the transport that would deliver them from the field to their accommodations for the night, her fears had been realized.

“‘Doctor,’ is it?” Moira laughed, eyes lingering on Angela’s tense shoulders. “And I thought you and I were better-acquainted than that.”

“Maybe we were at one point.” Why was she carrying on this conversation? Why did she answer when Moira spoke? A conditioned response, she supposed, from years ago, one the sound of that voice had brought back with an intensity she’d never expected. They stood in one corner of the ship, and none of the others present seemed to notice how heavy the air was between them.

“I suppose some time has passed since then. The years show in your eyes, Doctor Ziegler,” Moira pointed out, hands remaining folded at her back despite the wandering of her gaze. “Your charming optimism has faded.”

Angela gripped her staff more tightly with both hands. “The absolute last thing I’m here to do,” she said quietly, “is ‘charm’ you.” Moira laughed openly at that, and blue eyes stayed fixed in a glare at the floor below.

“Yes, I’m certain you don’t do it intentionally.” Inquisitively inspecting Angela’s armor, she changed the subject: “Your Valkyrie suit has greatly improved since last I saw it. The staff’s function is much more elegant…and I see you carry a sidearm now.”

“It’s purely for self-defense.”

“Primum non nocere. How appropriate. I do wonder what else has changed over the years,” Moira observed. Taking a slow step closer, she went on, “Since we’ll be spending the evening in close quarters, this seems a fine opportunity for a closer look. At the suit, that is. Given your permission.”

Angela’s eyes fell closed as she tried to decide how to answer. She had expected the suggestion—she’d been expecting it since she’d found out they were working together that morning. That it came this late in the day was the only surprise. And of course, she knew it wasn’t really her armor that Moira was interested in. Suffice it to say they’d had a very complicated relationship during her time with Blackwatch; her ‘closer look’ would inevitably become something much more involved. If only Fareeha had come with her, Angela was certain this conversation wouldn’t be taking place at all.

She had been seeing Fareeha outside of work for nearly a year by that point, and they’d been sleeping together for months. Had she been there, her jealousy would have picked up on Moira’s intentions immediately and prevented her from coming anywhere near Angela outside the mission. But she was busy elsewhere at the time, and of course they were both certain that the brief separation wouldn’t be an issue in any way.

“No,” Angela said in what she hoped was a firm tone. “I prefer not to share my inventions with untrustworthy individuals.”

“Untrustworthy?” Moira repeated, though she sounded more amused than offended. “You have changed, aingeal.” Still, she didn’t press further. She inclined her head in a semblance of a bow and left to speak with one of their other associates instead. Angela remained silent for the rest of their trip, trying her best not to dwell on the interaction.

She was no psychologist, but she was certain that her response to Moira’s voice was nothing more than Pavlovian conditioning. Not a sign of lingering feelings for her, not a reflection on her mental state. Nothing but a learned reaction that her body had somehow held onto all these years. It was nothing short of a biological betrayal that she should be forced to recall, in vivid detail, the moments that had enforced this affliction.

Moments during the period when they were on the same side. More or less. Moments in her darkened office, after everyone else had gone home for the day. Moments in her apartment or Moira’s, when that voice had given orders for her to obey. With pleasure. She recalled the chuckle that came when she begged, the encouraging purr when she was doing well. The shape of Moira’s lips as she spoke. The feeling of those lips on her skin. And her tongue…

Angela groaned, more in irritation with herself than anything, as she tried to push every one of those moot points out of her head. None of it mattered. It was all in the past, and no matter how much she had wanted it—needed it—at the time, it wasn’t going to happen again. Her guilt over even thinking about it only increased when they got back to their hotel and she finally checked her phone to find a missed call from Fareeha. Of course, between their separate time zones and both of them working, it was difficult to find a moment wherein they were both free to talk. But she had left a sweet voicemail, promising to make up for the lost time once they were both home, confessing that her current bed was cold without her ‘dove’ there to share it. Angela listened to the message and felt surprisingly little—little but guilt and disappointment in herself.

She cared about Fareeha. She wouldn’t have been with her if she didn’t. She enjoyed their time together, felt safe and comfortable in her arms, appreciated all the emotional support she provided. Yes, she very selfishly loved every aspect of their relationship. But did she love Fareeha? That, she had yet to answer. Or maybe she had answered it but pretended otherwise, hoped her heart and mind might change with time. Love was such a complicated, messy subject, one she hadn’t had much luck with in the past.

Rather than calling and leaving a voicemail of her own, she answered with a text message, explaining how exhausted she was, hoping that it came off as sincere. The last thing she wanted was to hurt or discourage Fareeha somehow. She didn’t deserve to suffer for Angela’s weakness. More than anything, she wanted to sleep, to be free of the burden of thinking, just for a few hours. But sleep didn’t come easily these days, meaning she had to weigh the costs and benefits of taking medication.

Too many choices, too many decisions, too much responsibility. Just tell me what to do. She was so tired. After shedding the many pieces of her armor, wings and all, she put out the lights, crawled into her bed, and pulled the covers up to hide beneath them. Still her mind wouldn’t stop racing—or trudging, at least, as drained as she was.

There was a way to fix it. Something she couldn’t do on her own. From experience, she knew exactly what she needed. Guidance. Stability. She needed to put herself in hands more reliably steady than her own.

Discipline.

Subjugation. She wet her lips at the thought.

For years, she’d been trying to put the thought out of her head, telling herself it wasn’t healthy, that she should find some other way to cope. But what point was there when she already knew the solution?

She had brought the idea up to Fareeha before, but only once or twice. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable with it, with the notion of controlling or, heaven forbid, harming Angela. Too concerned for her comfort. Nevertheless, Fareeha had agreed to try, out of a desire to please her. Already, the motivation was wrong, and a Dom without the confidence to give orders simply couldn’t provide the firm hand Angela needed. So she tried instead to forget that feeling and be satisfied with everything else Fareeha could give. And she gave no small amount.

Then came this mission, and she was forced to confront Moira again. Moira, who had never hesitated to control her. Moira, who had been the one to show her how sweet it could be to submit. Moira, whose voice still set her blood on fire and practically made her mouth water.

She recalled their earlier conversation, her own cold and insulting words, and some stupid, desperate part of her wished Moira had slapped them out of her mouth. Wished she could feel those long fingers close around her throat and tighten when she tried to argue. Wished for nails on her back and teeth on her throat and that voice, that damned, delicious voice filling her ears. She hated herself for it. She hated Moira for it, too, for so permanently etching these thoughts and feelings and desires into her psyche.

The room was pitch dark, even darker under her sheets. She let her eyes fall closed and tried to push past mistakes out of her mind, reminding herself where she was at this point in her life and why it was better. Groping blindly in the dark, she reached for her nightstand and grabbed her earpiece to replace it. Trying to chase Moira’s voice out of her mind, she replayed Fareeha’s voicemail and focused on every syllable, imagining the shape of Fareeha’s lips as she spoke them.

If she tried, now and again, she could more or less fabricate a scenario in which Fareeha was willing to be the Dom she needed. Perhaps she came home from a mission frustrated and needed to take her anger out physically. Perhaps she grew tired of Angela’s asking and decided to give her what she wanted as roughly as possible. It was invariably some exception to her usual character, but Angela wanted it regardless.

Yet this time, her imagination couldn’t seem to muster the image. She couldn’t take the sound of Fareeha’s voice and turn it into a growl, a demand, an order. “Verdammt,” she breathed, pausing the recording. Several moments passed in silence, and, with her digital library still open, Angela noticed a folder in Shared Media that hadn’t been there before. It was labelled with that day’s date and their location. She hadn’t considered this but knew what it must be. The communications from her mission earlier that day would’ve been recorded, and they were now available for her to review. Immediately, her mind deduced that if she wanted to—if she chose to—she could hear Moira’s voice instead.

No. She wouldn’t. Even if Fareeha’s trust weren’t part of the equation, the shame it would evoke would be too much for her to bear. After all these years, giving in to those old desires, being pathetic enough to use Moira’s voice as a catalyst for her pleasure? She wouldn’t do it.

Although. It would be so very easy. Or…perhaps it would be helpful to her future combat maneuvers. Yes, that was very possible. It could have merit of a different sort. Biting her lip hard, still fighting with her conscience, she opened the folder before she could stop herself. And, of course, the comms were separated into those of each individual squad member. Another moment of hesitation. Then she played the file labeled O’Deorain – support 2 and waited.

“I do hope that you’re quite certain about this,” Moira said, as she had in response to their team leader’s plan of charging in without much effort at regrouping the team. Hearing it sent a chill down Angela’s spine. The cold, judgmental tone in Moira’s voice was maddening, as it always had been.

Please, she might have begged, all those years ago. How many times can I say it? I want this. I need it.

“Do you truly believe that’s wise?” Moira’s voice in her ear, and Angela slid one hand slowly along her collarbone, down to her chest. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Mein Gott. Angela bit her lower lip hard, her bare hand sliding underneath her form-fitting shirt to trail up her stomach and tease her breasts. Her hands were neither as long nor as inexplicably cold as Moira’s, but her imagination could supply the missing details.

“Come back here, in ainm Dé!” Moira growled, exasperated, and Angela began to remember such phrases she’d used in their dark, heated moments together. An-mhaith and ná stad and féin a iompar. Starting to lose track of her breathing, Angela let her shaking free hand wander slowly downward, down her stomach toward her hips.

“Do you want this or not?” Moira demanded cooly. “Yes? Then listen to me.” Angela paused, the last vestiges of her pride still desperate to remain unbroken. Every word weakened her will further, and she could so easily imagine—no, recall—Moira holding her down, guiding her every move. “This is dangerous.”

“Oh, it is,” Angela chuckled under her breath. If she allowed herself this much, where would she draw the line? If she touched herself, imagined Moira touching her, if she orgasmed to the sound of her ex-lover’s voice, how would she still pretend that Moira had no power over her? She should stop. She should pause the audio and focus on trying to sleep.

“Ah-ah-ah. Come back to me now.”

She never was willing to disobey a direct command.

“Stop fighting,” Moira snapped. That tone of irritation, of impatience, got to Angela even more. “Do as I say and I will keep you safe.”

Despite herself, she slid her hand lower to edge into her tights. God, she’d missed this. Tell me what to do, she begged silently. What do you want? What am I allowed? What was that pet name she had always used?

“Mo chuisle.” Angela could imagine the words as if they were spoken directly into her ear, Moira’s breath falling hot against her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed out loud, sliding her hand lower still, letting her fingers slip between her legs and find how wet she was already. Of course. Moira’s voice had always had that effect on her. “Tell me. Please.” By this point, she was so thoroughly entrenched in her memories that she hardly needed the recording; she could simply imagine what Moira might tell her.

“Not yet, mo chuisle. Have patience,” she chided. And Angela pulled her hand back, no matter how much she wanted it. It was her own body. This was just a fantasy. But the fantasy had power over her, and she wanted it to. “Good girl. You have been neglected of late, haven’t you, pet? And how patient you’ve been for me, how faithful.”

Again: “Yes.” Her fingertips continued to trail very lightly along the hem of her tights, her other hand still groping and teasing her chest. Slowly, almost lazily.

“Such sweetness deserves a reward, does it not?” She could imagine Moira’s tongue on her neck, and she begged for a mark—a bite, a bruise, a hickey, something. Something to mark her. Property. A possession. An object. So much easier that way. No agency meant no accountability. “That’s it, aingeal. Let me take care of everything.” She could have sobbed for how desperately she wanted it. No one asking her for help. No one looking to her for answers. No one criticizing her performance.

“I’ll be good,” she whispered. She could feel Moira’s hands on her shoulders, trailing down her arms, forcing her shirt up, her tights down, so she was exposed beneath the sheets. She lacked the presence of mind to be embarrassed. Fingertips traced her lips, and she obediently let them part, allowing Moira’s fingers to slide wetly over her tongue.

“Of course you will. You always are. I discipline you because I know you enjoy it, not because you misbehave.”

“I—”

“Hush.” Her voice was sharp, fingers sliding deeper, almost far enough to make Angela gag. “Manners, my pet. We mustn’t speak with our mouth full.”

Angela forced herself into silence, doing all she could to obey. Wet fingers slid past her lips, allowing her only a moment to catch her breath before sliding down between her legs. She was already so wet, so hot, and she could hear Moira purr, “Deny it all you like, but your body knows you want this.” One finger pressed inside her, slowly, drawing a shuddering breath from her lips. Then a second, faster, to steal her breath altogether. Still, she tried so hard to be quiet and still, to be whatever Moira wanted of her.

Friction between her legs, and her heart raced, her cheeks flushed with desire. Yes, she wanted it, and God, she’d wanted it for so long. Yet she managed to keep her hips still, to not buck them upward and beg for more. No. She’d been patient. She could continue to be patient.

“Such discipline, mo chuisle. It seems I made quite a lasting impression on you.” Laughter, and she recognized the feeling of being teased and praised simultaneously. She recognized it and found she had missed it. “But it’s not my intention to leave you wanting.” Those fingers moved faster, and Angela let out a low moan of desire, biting her lip hard to stifle her voice.

There was no answer for a moment, not because Angela became conscious of the fact that she was lying alone in bed and essentially talking to herself, but as a test, perhaps even a punishment; Moira withholding her voice because she knew Angela wanted it so badly. Those fingers drew out of her and slipped across her clit instead, slick and hot from being inside, sending a delicious chill through her body. Moira’s next order was simple but stern: “Beg.”

“Please,” Angela panted without a moment’s hesitation, fingertips moving steadily but not fast or hard enough to give her what she needed. Her voice was strained, breathless. “Please, let me cum. Make me cum. I’ll be good. I’ll be whatever you want.” These weren’t promises made in desperation; they were her own desires as well.

“You always are, mo chuisle. Now cum for me and prove it.”

Her fingers moved, pressed, circled, rubbed, fast enough that she lost her breath, lost her voice, all but lost her mind. Trembling, tense all over, she gave herself over to a powerful orgasm, clamping her free hand over her mouth so Moira’s name couldn’t pass her lips in her ecstasy. The pleasure hit her in waves, even stronger than she’d remembered, until everything melted into hot, tingling contentment. As she was coming down, she realized the audio file was still playing.

“And it could have been this simple to begin with if only you hadn’t been so stubborn.”

The laugh she let slip was light, soft, for once not laced with bitterness and irony. Everything felt much lighter now, in fact.

After forcing herself up for a hot shower and a change of clothes, Angela went back to bed feeling more lucid, more calm than she had in some time. This pretend scene with Moira was just a fantasy, it was true, but the wonders it had done her mind were undeniable. The sexual gratification was wholly secondary to the psychological release it had given her. It was like taking a full breath for the first time after a half-decade of slowly suffocating. Like being honest about who she was and what she needed after so long trying to change. And if just the thought of surrendering could help so much, she could only imagine what it would feel like in reality. To actually be with Moira again.

Just once. Just one more time, and it’ll be enough. To get it out of my system once and for all… To get her out of my head…

She slept better that night than she had in years.