#anyway. final words. um... as soon as its fully released i will probably die and explode and become a firework of excitement

[horse-shit]

I want. posts. for fandom. RAH

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Mind Control

the red marks the prompts that have been filled, and the white marks the prompts that have been requested.

@badthingshappenbingo​

Haha yes another bingo, I am Thriving

Prompt: mind control

Fandom: Ninjago

Character: Kai

Trigger Warnings: blood, knives, mind control

1818 words

Kai couldn’t feel anything. 

Well, that wasn’t quite true. He could feel, but only in the most distant sort of way. Like he was a hundred miles away from himself. 

His head was fuzzy.

“You’re going to serve me now, little ninja,” the snake hissed.

Yes, that sounded right. That sounded like exactly what he was supposed to do. It made sense. 

He felt so detached from himself and it was good and bad at the same time.

He vaguely heard himself respond. The words didn’t matter. All he needed to think about was whatever his master wanted him to do.

“You’re going to kill green ninja for me.”

Wait — no, not Lloyd, Lloyd didn’t deserve to die, he was so young, he was… he was his baby brother.

“No,” Kai whispered.

The snake grabbed him by the jaw, jerking his head up so he was forced to look into his eyes.

Just as soon as the clarity had come, he felt himself being dragged back down again. The fog returned, and his mind was cloudy once more.

“What was that?” The snake asked, glaring at him.

“Nothing. I’ll do it.”

From the deepest, quietest part of his mind, Kai was screaming.

———

“Where have you been, firecracker?” Cole asked, jogging over and joining his boyfriend as he walked inside.

Kai opened his mouth to answer, but found that he didn’t have one. Where had he been? It was bad that he couldn’t remember, right? Shouldn’t he have been more concerned about that? He felt like it was bad that he was so calm.

“Nowhere special,” Kai said, balling one of his hands into a tight fist and letting his nails dig into the palm of his hand. He needed to remember. He needed to at least be concerned that he didn’t. 

“Kai!” Lloyd said, running at the older boy and leaping into a hug. 

He was going to kill this child. He was going to make him beg for mercy, no doubt, but none would be given. He was going to kill him, just as he’d been ordered.

Kai shook his head. What had he just been thinking about again?

“You were gone for forever,” Lloyd whined, releasing Kai from his hold. “You promised to spar with me, remember?”

He had, hadn’t he?

“Sure thing, buddy,” Kai said, “Go stretch, I’ll be right out.”

“I hate stretching,” Lloyd muttered, but turned on his heel to go do so anyway.

Cole went off to the kitchen, presumably to finish off the cake Zane had made a few days ago. 

Kai slipped into the bedroom, relieved that nobody else was in there at the time.

Out of nowhere, he had a massive headache.

“Kill him,” a voice said, booming through his head.

“I can’t,” Kai said, frantically shaking his head. “I won’t!”

“You will.”

Kai covered his ears as a screeching pain rang through his skull. It was a thousand times worse than the headache he’d had just moments ago.

“Stop,” he whimpered, finding himself curled up on the floor. 

“Do not fail me.”

He wouldn’t. He would kill the green ninja, just as he’d been ordered. That was all he needed to do. It would probably even be laughably easy. He was just a stupid, naive, helpless little kid.

He stood up, nearly pulling the door off its hinges as he left the room.

“Whoa! What’s got you so… blah?” Jay asked, having jumped back when the door slammed so violently.

Kai glanced back at the door. “I… I was going to go train Lloyd. I… yeah.” His head was feeling fuzzy again. He knew he had just been in the bedroom, he was standing in the doorway for heaven’s sake. But… he couldn’t remember being in the room at all. 

He pushed past Jay, heading for the deck. He would figure out whatever was going on with himself later. He needed to kill train Lloyd, now.

“Alright kiddo, ready for some sparring?” Kai asked, leaning over into a side stretch.

Lloyd, bouncing with energy, nodded. “I’m ready!” He chirped.

Kai switched sides, bouncing a bit in his stretch before standing up fully.

“Alright, no powers, try to take me down without all that,” Kai said.

Lloyd nodded again, jumping into a fighting stance.

“Go!”

For the first few minutes, Kai would admit it, he was going a little easy. He knew he shouldn’t have been, since villains wouldn’t go easy and all that, but this wasn’t even proper scheduled training. He’d attack go harder on him kill him tomorrow.

Kai faltered, feeling much like his brain was about to explode. Lloyd took the opportunity to knock Kai to the ground.

Kai was literally seeing red.

He got up, then tackled the kid to the ground.

Lloyd let out an indignant squawk.

Kai glared down at him. He had a job to finish. It would be easy.

“Kai, what are you—what are you doing?” Lloyd asked, struggling against the arms that had him pinned down.

Kai gripped his knife tight — when had he grabbed that? Why was he doing this? He needed to stop!

“Kai!” Lloyd shouted, “stop!”

Kai covered the kid’s mouth — because that’s all he was, he didn’t care for him, he wasn’t his baby brother, he was just a job, just a mission to complete — and stabbed the blade into his arm.

Why had he done that? He’d been aiming for the heart, how had he missed? 

He growled, ripping the blade out, which was met with a horrible muffled scream. Lloyd kicked and thrashed desperately, which only served to get blood all over both of them.

Lloyd bit Kai’s hand. 

Kai pulled his hand away with a short cry of pain. Lloyd squirmed out from under him, hopping up and decking Kai right in the face as he tried to drag him back down again.

As Kai reeled back in pain, Lloyd, gripping his bleeding arm, turned to run.

“Help!” Lloyd screamed.

Kai grabbed Lloyd’s ankle, and he was sent sprawling to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” Lloyd asked, trembling with fear as Kai held the dagger over his heart. His hand was shaking.

“Please don’t,” he whispered, eyes squeezed shut as he seemingly accepted his inevitable fate. 

Kai had never been pushing himself forward and holding himself back all at the same time with this much energy before. He had to kill him — but he also really, really didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

Static filled his head. Kai’s mind went completely blank, and he couldn’t see whatever was in front of him. He couldn’t see anything. Was he supposed to be thinking? How could you think so much and so little all at once?

It was an eternity before Kai felt himself come back again. He was on the floor of the deck — how had he gotten here? Lloyd was lying on the floor beside him — why was he — why was he lying like that? Why was there was so much blood?

His fingers were sticky with it.

Slowly, like he was dreaming, Kai lowered his eyes to the dagger in his hand. He dropped it in horror.

It clattered to the ground; the loudest sound he’d ever heard.

His mind was suddenly far too clear.

“Lloyd,” Kai said, shooting forward and closer to his brother. “Lloyd!”

“Stop,” Lloyd whimpered, weakly trying to push himself away.

Kai’s heart could have shattered in his chest right then, if it hadn’t already when he’d realized what he’d done. He ripped his own shirt off, balling it up and pressing the fabric over the wound.

“Stay with me, greenie,” Kai begged, not even trying to hold back his sobs.

“What’s going on, we heard—” Zane cut off in horrified shock. He was at their side in an instant. The others were quick to follow.

“It’s my fault,” Kai cried, “It’s my fault, I did this!”

“Shut the fuck up, Kai!” Nya yelled, “losing your head won’t help Lloyd!” She turned to the others. “Cole, call an ambulance, now. Jay, land the bounty. Steadily.”

Jay and Cole hurriedly went about their tasks.

“It hurts,” Lloyd said, his voice too small, too frail.

“I know, I know, but you’re gonna be okay,” Zane said, even as Lloyd’s breathing quickened.

“Finish the job.”

No. No, he needed to save Lloyd, he needed to save him, he needed to protect him!

“NOW.”

“I’m sorry,” Kai breathed.

His mind went completely blank.

———

Lloyd woke up in a hospital room.

Cole was at his side, Jay and Nya slumped over and asleep against the wall. The room was blindingly white.

“What’s going on?” He mumbled, struggling to sit up.

“Hey, don’t sit up too fast,” Cole said, helping Lloyd and rearranging a few pillows so he could situate himself better.

“What happened?”

Cole sighed, glancing back at the sleeping forms of Nya and Jay. Zane and Kai weren’t in the room.

“You were dead for about a minute,” he finally said, shifting in the seat he’d pulled close to the bed. 

Lloyd stared down at his own hands in awe. He’d been dead. Because… Kai had attacked him.

“And… Kai?” He asked, scared to hear the answer.

“Some rotten snake hypnotized him,” Cole growled. “But he fought against it a lot better than I did,” he muttered. Lloyd hadn’t really been involved with the ninja at that time, but he remembered Cole had nearly killed everyone. He cringed.

“We think he’s okay, now. We snapped him out of it with the flute. But…”

“But?” Lloyd prompted, leaning a little closer to the earth ninja as his voice lowered.

Cole’s face kind of reminded Lloyd of a puppy. If that puppy had been kicked. Repeatedly.

“He hurt you really bad, Lloyd. He nearly killed you. He was trying to hold back, I could tell, but um… he also hurt himself. When you died, he freaked out. He was screaming that it was his fault, and he tried to…” Cole sighed very deeply, his distress growing. “I had to hold him down so the others could help you. The last thing we needed was two of us dead.”

Kai had tried to kill Lloyd. And then he’d tried to kill himself. Lloyd took a moment to process this. 

“I want to see him,” Lloyd said definitively.

“You’re going to have to wait a bit on that,” Zane said, entering the room. “He is recovering from his own injuries. Cole, he wishes to see you.”

Cole stood up, smiling sadly at Lloyd before he quietly left the room. Jay and Nya still didn’t stir.

“You’re strong, Lloyd,” Zane said, taking Cole’s seat. “You have already begun to recover. Kai is getting better already, too. I have no doubt you will both come out of this stronger than ever.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lloyd muttered.

[clexa--warrior]

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol��� Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.

[creator-zee]

187

       The dress may have once been nice, but now it was soaking wet, clinging to the girls skin, and covered in mud. The girl - or woman more accurately - who was wearing it, wasn’t in much better shape. Her hair was matted, her face was splattered with mud, her fleet were bloody and she was exhausted. Struggling, as she pushed her tired body further up the steep mountain path. If it could even be called the. The path was only used by animals, few humans ever daring to climb this mountain. They knew the legends that told of a dangerorus monster at the top of the mountain. Some claimed it was a dragon, others a powerful witch. No one really knew, since no one returned. 

        That may have been the reason others stayed away, but that was the reason that Rene was struggling to climb the mountain. Eventually the path began to level out and she saw a gentle trail of smoke rising in the distance, a fire. 

        She stumbled and fell, crying out in pain. She heard a dull thud, and when she next looked up, a towering figure stood in front of her. With the sun behind them she couldn’t make anything but their silhouette out, it was winged. It was the monster.

         “Please, please kidnap me.” She pleaded, her voice weak and sore.

        Fully prepared to tear the random girl a new one, the monster paused, surprised. 

        “Sorry, what?” She asked, completely taken off guard.

         “Kidnap me...” The girl pleaded once again, her voice still barely there, raspy, probably due to a parched throat.

         Tiera paused, looking down at the disheveled figure. She couldn’t just leave her here. She crouched and picked up the (surprisingly light) surprise guest carrying further down the trail to where she made a cave her home. The stranger was freezing cold and shivering. Tiera instinctively pulled her closer, using her own body heat to warm the stranger. 

        Tiera shouldered open the door to the cave. It was a lot less evil dragon lair and a lot more cozy home than Rene had been expecting, at least what she saw as she struggled to fight off unconsciousness. Tiera noticed the strangers eyes beginning to drop.

        “Come on, stay awake.” She urges gently as she lay the stranger down next to the fire pit. “Tell me your name.”

         “Rene.” Rene grunted. 

         “Ok Rene, stay with me.” Tiera urged, as she briefly turned away to light the fire with a breath. 

           “Woah...” Rene muttered.

           “I need to get you out of these wet clothes.” Tiera told Rene, giving her warning before she began peeling the wet cloth off Rene. Rene was too out of it, as exhaustion and hypothermia caught up to her, to really understand totally what was going on.

         Tiera set the wet dress to dry by the fire, and grabbed a cloth and some spare clothes. She carefully cleaned Rene off, before redressing her. She noticed that her feet were completely torn up, from her complete lack of shoes. Tiera got up again to grab some bandages and carefully cleaned and bandaged the girl’s feet. Realizing that she had just laid the girl on the hard ground, Tiera fetched several blankets and laid the girl on a couple before wrapping one around her. 

      At some point, despite Tiera’s muttering, the girl had fallen unconscious. Tiera just hoped that she would wake back up again. Instead of worrying, she focused on cleaning up, even taking the time to wash the girl’s dress before hanging it to dry. Once the dress was clean it really was impressive, slightly ruined, yes, but it was exquisitely made. Whoever this Rene girl was, she came from money. That just led to more questions. Tiera couldn’t understand why a girl would go to such lengths to escape from what was probably a luxurious life. 

       She glanced again at the, now lightly snoring, stranger. She wouldn’t get any answers until she woke up. She would just have to wait until then. 

187.1

        Rene woke up wrapped in soft blankets. She sighed. That meant that the frantic escape and the oddly caring monster (that breathed fire?) was all a dream. She sighed, rolling to her back and looking up. To see a stone ceiling illuminated unevenly by flames. Okay... so not a dream. 

       Rene pushed herself and began looking around the room. It was like she remembered, cozy. She was laid in front of the fireplace, but there was a bed by one wall closer to the door. It had been stripped of blankets. The door itself was part of a wooden wall that separated the cave from the outside. On the same wall as the bed there was a shelf further down. The shelf had a variety of herbs, food and bottles on it. In the opposite wall there was a small armory, swords, daggers, axes, bows, armor. 

       It was slightly intimidating, but not as much as the large figure who just walked in the door, carrying a large piles of wood. She knew, logically, that they had taken care of her, but still... they were huge, and had wings, and could breathe fire.

       “Oh, you’re awake.” The monster said, surprised. “Good.”

       They moved to the back of the cave, adding the firewood to the pile, while Rene just sat, frozen, knees pulled to her chest. As the monster stood again, she realized that they were very much a she and that she wasn’t wearing anything on her upper half except a cloth wrap that wound around their chest. With the way it had to wrap around her wings, it covered a decent amount of her chest, but left her abs, and arms bare. Damn she was hot. Since when were monsters allowed to be hot.

       Rene next had the realization that she was not in her own clothes. She faintly remembered the monster saying she had to take her clothes off because they were wet. She then realized that the minister had seen her naked, and a fierce blush took over her face.

       Tiera stood nearby, waiting for the girl to process. She has seen Rene’s eyes scan over her body, but assumed it was because of the wings and scales. She only got worried when she suddenly flushed bright red.

        “Are you okay?” She asked, worriedly. “Are you too hot? I’m sorry I’m not good with temperatures.”

        “No - uh - no it’s fine. It’s good. It’s great. You’re just, uh, you don’t have a shirt...” Rene stammered, trailing off.

         “What? Oh... sorry.” Tiera apologized, but quickly grabbed a shirt from a chest at the end of her bed and pulled it on, struggling to get her wings to fit through two slits in the back. This was why she generally avoided shirts. But, she didn’t want to make her guest uncomfortable.

         “Would you, um, why are you here?” Tiera asked, coming off more blunt than she meant to be.

         Rene sighed, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “My dad sold me away to a foreign kingdom’s prince. Not as a wife, but as a, as a- “ Rene choked on her words, unable to continue, but Tiera got the idea.

         “Stop you don’t have to go on.” Tiera assured the girl, who had tears running freely down her face. “You can stay here. I just can’t promise it’ll be as nice as wherever you came from.”

        “Really?” Rene asked, surprised by her kindness.

        Tiera nodded. 

         “Umm. What’s your name?” Rene asked, slightly awkwardly. “I keep calling you ‘the monster’ in my head, but that doesn’t seem fitting.”

        Tiera chuckled. “It’s pretty fitting, but my name is Tiera.”

         Rene gave Tiera a questioning look. “Last time I checked monsters don’t save random damsels in distress and give them a place to stay.”

         Tiera shrugged. “You should probably drink something and eat something.”

         She lifted a canteen off a hook and handed it to Rene. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.

           “Where are you going?” Rene asked, as Tiera grabbed a bow and quiver off the wall. 

           “Hunting.” Tiera said with a slightly unnerving grin that made Rene wonder what she was hunting. 

          Tiera left as she settled the quiver on her back between her wings. She stretched them, wincing as the fabric of the shirt slightly restricted her movement. Stupid clothing. She grumbled about it as she took off, gliding over the forest searching for prey. She wasn’t worried about Rene. No one would get past her spells without her knowing, so unless Rene did something stupid inside she would be fine. 

        God she was so dumb to take a human girl in. Well, not a girl really, they were probably the same age, but she was so small and fragile. Humans were so fragile. They didn’t have scales, most of them didn’t know how to use magic, and they were so sensitive to temperature. But, she couldn’t just turn her away and leave her to die. 

        Tiera sighed as she saw a deer below her. She would chastise herself for poor decisions later, right now, she had to hunt. She focused on the lithe beast below her, flying lower, following the deer above, near silently. With practiced motions Tiera nocked an arrow, drew back, paused for the barest hint of a moment and released the string with a twang. By the time the deer reacted it was already too late, the arrow and hid its mark, the deer fell. 

        Tiera swooped down, landing softly. She murmured a soft thanks to the deer for giving up its life to her, before scooping it up and taking off again. She landed outside the cave, and set the deer down. She removed the arrow, checking it over for damage, before wiping it off and storing it. She next slipped her knife out of its sheath of her leg and quickly skinned the deer. She grabbed a cleaver from where it was proved against a log and divided the deer up with practiced motions. 

        She grabbed a piece and almost began eating, before she remembered that her human guest would need her food cooked. She set the meat back down and walked into the cave. Rene has fallen back asleep in front of the fire. Tiera crouched next to her and gently shook her shoulder. 

       Rene startled awake, lashing out blindly. Tiera backed you, surprised, she expected the noble girl to be used to being woken up by others.

        “Sorry.” She apologized anyway. “I just wanted to ask if you had a preference on the cut of meat, or how it’s cooked.”

          Rene sat up, still disoriented. “Uh, the cooks normally just give me food.” She admitted.

          Tiera debated with herself, before finally speaking. “Do you want to learn?”

          “Learn?” Rene asked, tilting her head slightly.

          “How to, uh, do things. Staying here is not going to be like staying in a place.” Tiera explained, while gesturing to the room. “There’s no servants here, just a monster.”

        Tiera stood. “Come outside if you want something to eat. Just don’t wait too long or I’ll have hung it somewhere to dry.”

        Rene watched as Tiera left, she didn’t understand why the woman kept insisting on calling herself a monster. She had been nothing but kind. She did have a point though. This wasn’t a castle. She should learn to not be so helpless. She followed her host out the door, startled by the sight of the butchered deer, and she struggled to stop her stomach from rolling, but she forced herself to sit next to the outside fire pit. 

       She had significantly less trouble controlling her stomach when she saw Tiera dig into a piece of raw meat. Rene scrambles to her feet and ran to the cliff before the meager contents of her stomach leave it. 

        “Are you ill?” Tiera asked, concerned.

         Rene glanced back at her, and saw the picture of the monster so many saw her as, with around the edge of her face.

         “Uh, you, I’m, raw meat.” Rene managed to finally stumble out. 

         “Oh, sorry.” Tiera quickly apologized, wiping her mouth off. She lit the fire with a quick puff, before spearing the meat on a nearby stick and holding it over the fire. 

          Rene wipes her own mouth off and Tiera handed her another canteen as she came back near the fire. 

          Rene’s curiosity had been growing so she finally decided just to bite. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

         Tiera raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer if I ate you? Or locked you away in a dungeon? Or up in a tower?”

        “What? No.” Rene shook her head. “I’m just so confused. You’re willing to change your behavior for a complete stranger. You keep apologizing for what I’m sure - for you - are completely normal things.”

         Tiera shrugged. “I wasn’t just going to let you die.”

          “But you’ve done more than that.” Rene argued.

         Tiera shrugged again. “Unlike some humans I know basic hospitality. Just don’t look too deep into it. I didn’t want to let you die, and I don’t want to just lick you out the door. Everyone deserves a safe space.”

         “Well, thank you, for everything.” Rene said, before daring to glance at the deer carcass again. “Now, mind showing me how to cook.”

         Tiera smiled and proceeded to teach her. 

187.2

        Tiera tensed from her perch high up on the cliff, someone had crossed her perimeter wards. She took off and landed on the ground, surprised to see a woman about her age, in badly fitting armor, weilding a sword that was too big for her. This was completely unexpected. No one had come up in two months since Rene got here. 

         “Let my friend go. I’m here to rescue her from you, foul beast.” The lady declared, while brandishing the sword.

         Tiera raised an eyebrow, nudging the sword to one side, the poor girl could barely keep it up. “Who are you?”

         “Nyla, now give me Rene back.” Nuls threatened, but Tiera was unimpressed. 

          Tiera sighed, grabbing the other’s arm. “Come on.”

         As she dragged the intruder closer to camp she called out. “Rene do you need rescuing?”

        “What? No...” Rene called back, turning to face Tiera as she came around the corner. “Nyla!?”

         Tiera sighed. “She came here to rescue you from a foul beast.”

          “Although I appreciate the sentiment. I’m not a prisoner.” Rene said, smiling at Nyla, before laughing. “Besides what were you going to with that?”

        Nyla stared, confused. “But, but, then, what’s going on?”

        Tiera sighed. “You explain Rene, I’ll get us some food and water. Also, take off the ridiculous armor, at least get something that fits.”

         Rene gestured for Nyla to take a seat as Tiera went inside. She grabbed two canteens, and glanced at a set of armor on the wall, it was too small for her. She grabbed it, and a sword more fitting for Nyla.

         She returned outside and Rene seemed to have finished telling her story. Tiera tossed the canteens at her before turning to Nyla.

          “Come on, let's get you some proper armor.” She said, waving the girl over. 

         Nyla stared at her and the armor she was holding in surprise.

         Tiera sighed. “If you still want to fight me, the least I can do is give you a fighting chance with the proper equipment.”

          Nyla shifted awkwardly. “Honestly, getting this on was a struggle, I don’t know how to get it off.”

         Tiera sighed again, setting down the armor she had grabbed. “How were you planning on defeating me?”

          “I don’t know.” Nyla admitted. “I was desperate.”

          “Desperate to escape, or desperate to save Rene?” Tiera asked, as she began unbuckling the armor.

           Nyla suddenly got flustered at the very close proximity of the not really a monster. 

           “Uh, a little, both.” She stammered out. 

           Tiera noticed Nyla’s blush, but promptly ignored it. She was not fighting with a shirt right now. If Rene could get used to it, Nyla could too. Tiera finished taking the armor off, setting it all to the side. 

          “Still want to fight me?” Tiera asked. 

          Nyla shook her head.

          “Do you want armor?” Tiera asked. 

          Nyla shook her head again.

         Tiera turned and went back inside putting everything away. Rene gave Nyra a knowing look.

           “You like her.” She said, as if it was a fact.

            “No.” Nyra quickly dismissed, but her blush said otherwise. “I barely know her. She’s just, she’s unfairly hot for a monster.”

           Rene’s response was cut off by Tiera coming back outside. 

           “I don’t have anything to eat inside so if you want to eat you’ll have to wait for me to hunt.” She told the two.

            They realized that she had a quiver slung across her back, and a bow in one hand. She was anticipating that they - or at least Nyla - would want to eat.

          “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Nyla asked, gesturing to the quiver. “Doesn’t it rub on your skin?”

           Tiera shook her head, turning so that Nyla could see her back - it was covered in the same shimmering blue scales that covered her wings. “My scales are far more durable than your skin.”

            “What are you?” Nyla asked, bluntly and Rene gasped.

            “You can’t just ask someone that.” Rene hissed, chastising.

           Tiera didn’t care though. “Half-dragon.” She answered plainly. “Now I’m going hunting, please do not burn my home down.”

           Tiera took off and was left wondering how she now had two humans staying with her - she assumed Nyla would stay. What were they going to do for sleeping? Tiera didn’t have any more blankets, considering she almost never got cold. She would just have to make another bed so that then the blankets Rene was sleeping on could go to Nyla. God, she should just kick them out. What had she gotten herself into?”

187.3

        Tiera tensed, pausing mid-sentence as she felt people passing through her perimeter. Lots of people. She had a feeling she knew what - who - they were here for. She - they - didn’t have much time. 

         Tiera grabbed the two humans who had been staying with her the last few months and shoved them in a corner. “Stay here. Stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

          Rene and Nyla just nodded, they had never seen Tiera like this before. Her wings were flared slightly, and she had an expression of, of something they couldn’t quite place, a mix of anger but also protectiveness. 

        Tiera turned and stalked away, grabbing two swords of the wall as she left. The humans were slightly concerned that she didn’t take any armor, but they trusted that Tiera knew what she was doing. 

        Tiera’s magic was boiling just under the surface. She was just barely keeping it under control. She was used to the territorial urges from her dragon half, but she wasn’t used to the fierce protectiveness (from both halves) that had taken grip of her as she saw the soldiers that were there to take away her Rene and her Nyla.

         Tiera landed in front of the group of soldiers, roaring, meeting every expectation these soldiers had for the monster on the top of this mountain. She did not waste words as a stream of hot flames pushed the knights back, back past her perimeters. She tightened her grip on her swords as she advanced. These intruders needed to leave or die. She was happy to help them with the latter. She rushed the first line of knights. The steep rugged terrain meant that only one or two could make it up to the path to face her. They had no chance to outnumber her. 

        She kicked the first knight in the chest knocking him back and causing a domino effect. The next one she quickly disarmed, before decapitating him. She remained untouched until a knight with a golden helmet stepped forwards. He could actually hold his own and managed to land a grazing blow on her lower abdomen.

         Tiera responded by roasting him, with a torrent of flame. It caused the next knights to hesitate to step forwards but when they saw her strange green blood dripping from the cut the charges with new confidence, misplaced confidence as they were easily cut down, Tiera’s blades finding all the weak spots in their armor.

         They had numbers, but Tiera had a lot of stamina, and magic. Although she mostly used it in the form of breathing fire she also used it to strategically vanish some armor or move some ground. Driven mostly by her baser dragon urges to protect her territory and her mates she wasn’t in the right state of mind to do much complex magic. 

       Eventually, only one knight was left standing in front of Tiera who was panting, soaked in sweat, and still bleeding from a single cut on her abdomen. The knight dropped his sword in surrender, looking up at the wild woman.

         “How about we find a more peaceful solution, something mutual beneficial, like I don’t know, sex?” The knight asked, offered, pleaded, either way it was incredibly stupid, as the only thing he warned was an enchanted blade running him through, like his armor didn’t en en exist. 

          Satisfied that she was done defending for now, Tiera calmed back down. She sighed as she looked over the bodies strewn all over her mountain. Now she had to clean that all up.

         As she began cleaning up the bodies (scavenging anything useful and burning the rest), Tiera realized, with growing horror why she had been so protective. It wasn’t just her territory that she was protecting, but Rene and Nyla. They had been in her territory as ‘guests’ for quite a while, but dragon instincts had two categories for those on a dragon’s territory, enemy or family. Sure, dragons had friends, but they always met on neutral territory. A dragon’s territory was sacred to them. So, since Rene and Nyla didn’t fall into the enemy territory, they fell into family. And since they weren’t blood related, that meant they were family in the only other way - a romantic partner.

        Fuck. Stupid fucking instincts was going to make this so awkward. Some primal part of her had claimed them as hers. She couldn’t act on it. She didn’t have their consent, besides she was a monster. She just feared what would happen if she couldn’t get this under control. Eventually, they would leave and what would happen to Tiera. Dragons were extremely loyal, loyal to a fault. Once they chose a partner - a mate (Tiera mentally grimaced at the word, she didn’t even want to humor the thought) - they stuck with them, to the end. 

        Fuck. Tiera was so screwed. This was already stupidly out of control. And both of them, why both, why any? Why couldn’t it be neither? Why had she let them stay in her territory? Even as she thought it, she regretted thinking it. She had grown to lo-like Rene and then Nyla. Their naivety was amusing, and both of them were willing to learn. Nyla had even begun learning how to shoot, while Rene was experimenting with cooking. 

       Tiera wouldn’t give them up for anything. Although at first she had been annoyed by the infusion in her territory it no longer felt like an intrusion - they were no longer strangers, and at least a small part of her wanted them to be more than friends, but it was too much to ask. She needed to get herself under control. She couldn’t go running her friendships with the only people in the past few years that weren’t trying to kill her. While Nyla has at first, but that hadn’t lasted long.

        Tiera has run out of bodies, out of excuses. She had to go back and face them. At least she was better under control, her dragon half was not so firmly in control as at the start of the battle. Tiera collected her blades from where she had left them at the top of the hill and she went back inside.

        Both Nyla and Rene breathed sighs of relief as Tiera walked back in. They had grown increasingly nervous as the sounds of battle reached them, and almost doubly so when it stopped and Tiera still didn’t return. They both lept forwards, engulfing Tiera in a hug. Rene threw her arms around Tiera’s shoulders, while Nyla slipped them around her waist.

        Tiera grunted slightly at the pressure on her wound that she still had to bandage. Both women recognized the rare sound of discomfort and backed off. 

         “Are you okay?” Rene asked at the same time Nyla gasped. “Your stomach.”

          Tiera stepped away from her two concerned friends, hanging her swords on the wall, before moving towards the shelf in the other side of the room.

           “I’m fine.” Tiera answered in response to their questions.

           “I’ve never seen you injured before.” Rene commented instead of what had almost come of her tongue - wow your blood is green. 

           “I don’t often get injured.” Tiera muttered as she cleaned her wound and wrapped it. “But, I’m not invincible.”

           “What did they want?” Nyla dared to ask.

            “Presumably to ‘rescue’ you.” Tiera answered, as she began placing the useful items she had scavenged in the shelf. 

            “Presumably?” Nyla pressed, while Rene peered at what Tiera was putting away, curious what the half-dragon considered useful.

           “I, Uh, there wasn’t a chance to talk.” Tiera said, coughing slightly, embarrassed, not wanting the others to know just how she had acted. 

          “You talked to me?” Nyla pressed, confused. 

           “You were one person.” Tiera explained. “There were easily fifty of them, in my territory.” Her voice turned to a growl at the end and she paused to collect herself. “Sorry, I get, uh, territorial, it’s the dragon in me.”

            “Territorial?” Rene raised an eyebrow trying to meet Tiera’s gaze. “But you let us stay.”

            “You’re different.” Tiera grunted, hoping they wouldn’t push much further.

           “How?” Rene pushed. The half-dragon still had never given her a straight answer no matter how many times she tried. 

           “You just are.” Tiera said, growing uncomfortable. “Come on, it's late we should eat and go to sleep.”

          Rene realized that once again she wasn’t getting anywhere and decided just to start cooking. That was one thing that she had quickly surpassed the half-dragon in. Rene often caught Tiera just eating raw meat when she wasn’t around the others. She did refrain from doing that around then though, because it made them uncomfortable. 

[4jimin]

change my mind | 2

pairing: jeon jungkook and park jimin; jikook/kookmin

genre: fluff (a lot), college au, friends to lovers

length: 9k words| crossposted on ao3

summary: 

“i don’t do relationships,” jimin spills in the fresh air of the fast food – a mixed smell of hamburgers, ketchup and french fries surrounding them. “i enjoy the conquest and the flirting part better. relationships are always so boring and predictable. not to mention most of the times fake.”

jungkook rolls his eyes and laughs, pretending he doesn’t feel his heart clench and slightly sink inside his chest.

“you’re helpless.”

jimin smiles at him, and it’s almost unfair. “call me realistic.” he corrects, taking a greasy thumb till his lips to clean it out of the oil of the food. he repeats the same action with the rest of his fingers. jungkook has to divert his gaze, scared he might end up staring too hard.

he snorts with a made up irritation.

“i call you a pain in the ass.“

chapter 1

“So, what do you say?” Jungkook asks again, after throwing at Jimin one of the hardest ‘would you rather’s question he has ever heard. He narrows his eyes in deep thought.

They’re walking side by side, probably just five or six minutes away from the mall now. The sun is mercilessly burning in the cloudless sky, but Jimin is relieved the high buildings alongside the sidewalk are providing shadows long enough to shelter them from the scorching heat. Yet, even so, Jimin can still feel a ghostly sensation of a droplet of sweat running down the back of his neck. He wipes it with his palm, taking the chance to look up at Jungkook.

“This is seriously so hard, how did you come up with that?”

The younger shrugs. “It was one of the questions on Pottermore.”

Jimin frowns. “Pottermore?”

Jungkook looks at him as if he just asked “Ocean? What is that?”

“Yes, Pottermore. The official website every kid went to, to find out which Hogwarts’ house they belong to?”

Jimin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”

“Hey! I call that being highly open minded to every movie genre. In fact!” he raises a finger, taking two steps larger than Jimin to get in front of him and fully face the older boy “I say we should do a Harry Potter’s marathon to educate you.”

Jimin licks his lips in order to moist them from the dryness the hot weather is providing. “I say no, thanks. And stop walking backwards, you’re gonna get hurt!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but listens to the other’s words anyway, getting back on his place by Jimin’s side. “We’re so doing this marathon, you don’t get a word on this.”

Jimin scoffs. “Excuse me? I don’t?”

“No, you don’t. And stop dodging the question! You’re standing in the middle of a room on fire. You can either save the baby who is in there or the last magic potion able to cure one thousand people with a deadly disease. What do you do?”

Jimin snorts. He refuses to answer a simple “I don’t know”, because somehow he feels like that would mean disappointing Jungkook and he doesn’t really want that to happen? He doesn’t know what to do with that information, though.

“The baby, I guess? I mean, if I choose the potion, then I leave that baby to die, isn’t that almost… murder?”

Jungkook smiles. “Well, yes, but you can use that same logic with the potion and the sick people. You’re also letting them to die.”

Jimin bites his lip, analyzing the new point of view. “Okay, yes, but it’s a baby. I mean, I could be saving a bunch of criminals, for what I know.”

“Are you saying criminals don’t deserve to live?” Jungkook pushes, clearly amused, poking Jimin on the ribs with his elbow.

“No, but I mean– I’d rather save a baby than them.”

“Well, I see, but from what you know you could also be saving one thousand babies.”

At that, Jimin scratches his nape frustrated. “God, why is this so hard?! I mean– Okay, no, I’m not changing my mind, I’m saving the baby.” Jimin says with confidence, stopping beneath the semaphore when they reach the street they need to cross. The mall is right on the other side, standing tall and big with all its glass windows reflecting the sunlight almost blindly.

“Good.” Jungkook nods. “But, you know, as far as you know, you could be saving Lord Voldemort.”

Jimin genuinely frowns, shooting puzzled eyes at Jungkook . “Who?”

“Oh god. Like– You could be saving Hitler.”

“Oh.” he exclaims, the younger’s new perspective sinking in him; then, he releases a deep breath. “This is, like, pointless. Whatever my answer is you’re going to find a way to make it seem wrong!” he accuses, right at the same time the red light brightens in the semaphore. “Come.” he starts walking, aware of the cars coming to a stop by their right side and keeping an eye on them with his peripheral, just in case. Jungkook follows close behind him.

“I’m not making it seem wrong!” he goes defensive, “I’m just telling you all the possibilities.” and then, reasons, as if he really wasn’t arguing with every single response Jimin gave, just to tease.

“Right.” Jimin smiles, climbing the steps that leads to the courtyard of the mall. It’s large, and mainly paved, but in the corners some trees make their existence known by portraying a vivid green that catches the peripheral vision’s attention. “What did you choose anyway?”

“Me? The potion.”

Jimin looks back at him. “Seriously? Why?”

“It’s math.” he puts his hand with the palms up in front of him, representing a metaphorical balance. “One thousand people, only one person…” he takes his left hand down to express the bigger weight a thousand means. Jimin shrugs.

“I bet in the real situation you’d save the baby.” he confidently lets slip from his mouth, and he doesn’t understand exactly why. He doesn’t even know Jungkook that much to be making this kind of assumption. “You’re too soft.” He mentally reprimands himself for not using “you seem too soft”, hoping Jungkook didn’t take it as an offense.

They finally reach the entrance’s door, the motion sensor attached to it making it automatically slide open for them. The inner air conditioner blows cold breaths to the back of Jimin’s warm neck as soon as he steps inside the mall, providing a soft chill to run down his arms due to the slight termic change.

“I like to think I’m the type of logical and reasonable person.” Comes Jungkook’s reply, responsible for Jimin’s little chuckles.

“Sure you are.” He teases, looking around the place only to come to the sense he has no idea what they’re up to. “Um, Jungkook?” the younger raises his eyebrows at him, “What are we doing now?”

“Oh.” He looks around as if he had just realized they walked 15 minutes to end up in the middle of the mall, clueless where to go from there. “Right. Guess we… walk around to find your perfect match for a first date?”

“Oh.” Jimin almost forgot the whole purpose of they going out together. “Right.”

“Okay, let’s go grab some ice cream and then we can eat it at the food court while we analyze the guys around us.”

Jimin has to force himself not to cringe much apparently. “This sounds so awkward.” He states, following Jungkook till the escalator on the other side of the place. “It’s like a real life tinder. A terrible idea, if you want my opinion.”

He hears Jungkook laughing and the sound stirs something inside him.

It’s a… a nice sound.

“Come on, let’s give it a shot.” Jungkook steps aside to allow Jimin to go up the stair first. He hides the blush the action causes on him by scratching his cheek and diverting his gaze.

“Ah!” Jimin exclaims and points to the bowling place he spots while trying not to get all red. “Look, look! Oh, wehave to go!” he hears Jungkook’s giggle and turns around to face the boy, but if regret killed he’d sure have a heart attack and pass out right away, cause Jungkook’s face is so close to his that he can feel all his effort to not blush seconds ago jumping right off the window. He has to hold all the air into his lungs in order to not let a pathetic squeak escape his mouth.

Jungkook is standing on the lower step, so that creates a height difference in which Jimin is taller and, somehow, this stirs inside him the desire to wrap his hands around Jungkook’s neck and pull him closer for a kiss. He wants to feel Jungkook’s hands squeezing his waist, and then his strong arms encircling his body so there’s not an inch of space between them.

I’m losing it, I’m definitely losing it. What the hell is happening?!

“Jimin?”

Taehyung told me about this once. He said when the attraction is too strong we call it infatuation. This is what this is. Infatuation.

“Um, Jimin?”

I fucking hate infatuation.

He’s so pretty.

“Jimin, oh my god!”

Jimin belatedly realizes with a pinch of panic that they reached the top of the stair while he was in the middle of his existential crisis, and, as he is facing Jungkook – consequently with his back to the front of the stair –, his feet collides with the edge of the last step, getting him to lose balance. His ass is most definitely meant to find the ground with all its gravity’s force, but Jungkook is the one by his side – the one trying to defy everything Jimin ever believed in his entire life –, so of course Jungkook is going to catch him right before he falls, with his arms completely wrapped around Jimin’s waist, their chests gluing for a second way too long, because he has to get in the way of normalcy, he has to make Jimin feel like he’s into the most cliché drama, he has to make Jimin want to punch him all over just so he can kiss it better later.

“Ah, sorry.” He pulls away embarrassed the instant he regains his balance – stepping firmly on the ground –, and starts to walk so they don’t block the way.

The younger smiles and follows beside him. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Jimin scrunches his nose in pre-discomfort for the question he knows it is to come. “But what were you thinking about? I mean, I called you twice, you were totally not hearing me.”

“Bowling.” Jimin straightforward lies. “I was thinking how cool would be to beat you up.”

Jungkook scoffs in fake offense and thankfully doesn’t realize Jimin’s nervousness. “As if. And for your information, I was just telling you on that stairs when you were not listening to me,” he pinpoints, getting Jimin to roll his eyes, “that you’re lucky I have no money right now, because I’d definitely take you and kick your ass in that bowling alley if I did.”

“Well, I’d love to see you try to do that.”

Jungkook stops on his track, forcing Jimin to do the same, so he can look back at the older with a pair of false shocked eyes. “Are you challenging me?”

Jimin smiles mischievously. “I don’t know. Am I?”

“Okay, you’re asking for it. We’ll come back here next week, and then, I’m going to show you I don’t joke around in service.”

“Good.” Jimin shrugs and smirks. “Neither do I, beautiful.”

He smiles when he sees pink dust reddening Jungkook’s cheeks at the pet name. As if he’s going to let this nerd turn him into a bubbling, gushy mess and detach himself from his flirting manners. He has a reputation to keep up with and he is so very much pleased to go and do just that.

“Good. It’s a deal, then.” Jungkook playfully extends a hand for Jimin to shake. And that’s how they end up holding hands in the most natural way. “Now let’s find you a date. But first, where do you wanna have ice cream?”

Jimin looks around, pursing his lips while he analyzes each shop. “Oh!” he spots a particular one that catches his attention and points “There! It’s a ice cream shop, isn’t it?” The name looks German, Jimin has never seen it before.

Jungkook looks back at him shocked, “What, there?! Are you rich or you truly don’t feel sorry for your poor limited money as an university student?”

“What, why?!” Jimin pouts. “The logo looks cute…”

“Yeah, I bet they’ll charge you at least 22000 won just for walking around with their cute logo.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at the mockery. “Okay, here are your options. Burger King or McDonald’s?”

“Ew.” He scowls and restarts to walk. “McDonald’s, obviously.”

Jungkook laughs.

“What’s the problem with Burger King’s ice cream?”

Jimin stares at him as if he just asked why chocolate tastes so good.

“Because it sucks.” He says plainly, with a straight face.

“Jimin.” Jungkook pauses. “It tastes exactly the same.”

The older fleers sarcastically. “It so does not.” They stop in front of the counter of the fast food, and as it is a week day, they don’t have to wait in line. “I’m going to show you. I’m buying mine here and you’re buying yours there.” Jungkook shrugs with indifference. “You’re so going to want to have half of mine after I prove I’m right.” Jimin insists stubbornly and turns to face the cashier, putting a sympathetic smile on his face right away. “Hello, good afternoon.” He bows slightly. Jungkook doesn’t miss how the man behind the counter blushes faintly.

“Good afternoon. May I take your order?”

“Ah, yes. I’ll want a McFlurry. The one with oreo.”

“Sure. Money or card?”

Jimin is about to answer he is paying with money when he feels one of Jungkook’s hand curl around the curve on the left side of his waist, his chin coming to softly rest on his shoulder.

“Ah… Sorry, money.” He finally answers after snapping out of his mild state of sudden awareness. What is he doing?

He handles the cashier the notes while Jungkook snuggles closer to him, which gets him wondering if the boy is trying to bring his heart to a stop or something. “You’re warm.” Jimin hears his murmur. “’m tired.” Oh. Right. Of course. Why else he’d half backhug him in public? Still, his back kind of tingles from where it touches Jungkook’s chest. He’s caught between hating it and loving it. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin reassures him. After all, he is feeling the butterflies on his stomach and that’s what he is always looking for, right?

So why the fuck it feels so uncomfortable?

The cashier hands Jimin his change after typing his order on the computer screen, together with his invoice. He thanks the man and walks to the counter part where he is supposed to wait for his ice cream. Jungkook doesn’t let go of him. Instead, he places the hand he had hanging in the air on the other side of Jimin’s waist, sliding them to the front of his belly, so he’s wrapping him in a full backhug now. He doesn’t resist the urge to take his hand to Jungkook’s forearm and caress it with his thumb – it’s almost like an instinctive response, and it scares him how familiar, yet new, it feels. They stay like that for some more time, until a girl approaches them from behind the counter with Jimin’s order in hands. He thanks her with a bow and takes it.

“Um, Jungkook?” he calls when the boy doesn’t mention to move from his spot behind him.

“Mhm?”

“You kinda need to let me go if we want to go order yours.”

Jimin hears the boy murmur something on his shoulder that sounds a lot like “don’t wanna”.

“What?” he asks in order to know if he heard right.

“Don’t wanna move, let’s just order mine here too.”

Jimin smirks in victory. “So you admit I won and that the ice cream here tastes best?”

But the way Jungkook nuzzles against his neck and whispers a soft ‘sure’ against his skin actually has his heart skipping a beat instead of warming up in pleasure at the self gain for his competitive ass. He allows a waverly “okay” to slip from his throat and calls the attendant again.

It’s so fucking hard to deal with Jungkook. If he was blatantly flirting with Jimin, having a smirk adorning his lips and an ambiguous tone in his voice, it’d make everything a million times easier. Jimin would respond with the same intentions, they would hook up and that was that. But no. Fucking no. Jeon Jungkook has to be the softest boy Jimin has ever known, he has to be so genuine to the point Jimin doesn’t know if he’s hitting on him or just being himself. How can he be sure Jungkook doesn’t backhug and nuzzle against the neck of all of his friends this casually? It probably means nothing to him, yet here it is Jimin doing an analysis out of such a stupid and simple thing. How pathetic, really.

“It’s going to melt all over the cup if you don’t eat it.” Jungkook says when he realizes Jimin hasn’t even touched his ice cream yet.

“Oh. Right.” He ignores the spoon placed on the side and licks the top, having the sweet taste of vanilla overwhelming his senses for a second. God, he really likes sweet things. “Ah, it’s so good.” he comments, “I haven’t eaten ice cream in a while.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just hums to express he heard and moves closer to Jimin to find a better position for his face on his shoulder. Jimin is scared the boy might drift off to sleep, so he turns his head to see if his eyes are closed and is surprised to find the younger’s gaze laying over him. He is quick to look away.

“Ah, sorry, I… I wasn’t staring, I just… Your cheek looks soft.”

Jimin fights a smile when he spots Jungkook’s skin reddening. He detaches from the boy just enough to fully face him. “What?” he asks, and hears a stupid smile on his voice. He sounds more amused than he should be. And he actually is.

Jungkook doesn’t meet his eyes, instead he keeps wandering with them everywhere but Jimin’s face. “You… you had a thing on your cheek, but then I thought it looked soft, that’s all.” He tries to explain, but Jimin’s enjoying it all too much already.

He nods cynically, and diverts his eyes from the boy’s face, just at the time the attendant comes again with Jungkook’s order. Jungkook takes it and lets go of Jimin, so they can walk to a table.

“Yeah, right, you can just say you were mesmerized by my pretty face, there’s no problem in it.” He jokes and takes a mouthful of ice cream till his lips with the plastic spoon.

Jimin can’t help but feel rather empty and cold where Jungkook’s body was glued to his – yet, he shoves down the feeling somewhere deep into his gut. Maybe that’ll stop his stomach from unreasonably acting like a starving jellyfish, all bubbly and soft.

Jungkook scoffs besides him. “Gahah!” he mocks childishly and Jimin fails to keep the endearing glow away from his eyes, so he just focuses on watching the people around him instead, “You wish…” The younger mutters while stuffing a spoon of ice cream on his mouth. Jimin wants to ask how old is he and pinch his cheeks just for the pleasure to rile him up more, but he also doesn’t want to stretch the subject too much, so he lets it die with a low hum.

They find a place to sit soon after, and it’s actually one of the furthest tables from where people is hanging out. Jimin thinks the choice is weird if they’re going to try and find him a date, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“So? How is it?” he asks when they settle on a pair of chairs next to each other.

“Good.” Jungkook leans towards him. “Let me taste yours.” He opens his mouth, waiting for Jimin to feed him like a child.

“How old are you?” Jimin chuckles, taking a spoon to the younger’s mouth nonetheless.

Sulky, Jungkook frowns. “Have you never heard the saying that says someone else’s food always tastes better? Huh, huh?” he questions, mouth full. “And I’m twenty, for your information.”

Jimin is unable to contain the smile on his lips. He is sure twenty years’ olders shouldn’t sulk in the middle of the day with vanilla’s broth of the ice cream they’re messily eating sliding down their lips, but, perhaps, in Jungkook’s conception they do.

“Sure you are.” He says, bringing his thumb to wipe the mess Jungkook made over his lips, unconsciously taking the finger to his own mouth afterwards. He belatedly realizes how intimate the act is, but pretends it’s not a big deal by pointing at a random guy in front of them with his chin, so he can try and not die of embarrassment.

Jungkook is confused at first, still startled by the sudden display of intimacy. “What?”

“Him. For my date.” Jimin babbles the first thing on his mind. “What do you think?”

“Oh…” Jungkook exclaims, his eyes drifting to the guy again. He’s tall – taller than Jimin, at least, but it’s not like this is immensely hard –, has a shiny black hair that has Jungkook uncomfortably ruffling his own opaque one, is handsome and he is definitely gay. Well, if he is not, he would definitely be for Jimin.

“Not that one, he’s not gay.” Jungkook refuses right away.

“Really?” Jimin looks back at Jungkook surprised.

“Really.”

“But I was so sure… I’ve always thought I was very good at this.”

Jungkook shakes his head without a tip of blame on his blatant lie.

“No, I’m the best on this, trust me, he’s not.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Why are you the best? You don’t seem the type to approach the guys you’re interested in to be the best at knowing this.”

Jungkook laughs, pulling a facade of confidence he has never used before. “Please. I’m definitely this type.”

He’s such a bad liar.

Jimin places the cup of ice cream on the table and crosses his arms to completely face Jungkook, not seeming the least convinced. “Liar.”

“It’s true! I hit on guys all the time! And always on the right ones.” Jungkook nods with a cocked eyebrow and a smug demeanour that he prays is enough to convince Jimin. But apparently it is not.

“I don’t believe you.” He, then, uncrosses his arms and pulls one leg up the chair to turn his body fully to Jungkook. “Hit on me.”

Jungkook almost chokes halfway his spoon of ice cream. He looks at Jimin with wide eyes. “What?!”

“Come on, flirt with me. I’m the type who always waits for guys to approach me in the club, so I’m a pretty good judge whether the flirting is good or not. I’ve got a lot of experience.” He reasons, for validation.

Jungkook swallows, completely taken off guard. “Ah… Ah, um, okay.” He nervously looks at Jimin’s face clueless of what to do next. Jimin quirks an eyebrow at him in response and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you flirty monster. Show me what you got.” He teases him, clearly amused by the situation.

But Jeon Jungkook never loses. Or so he tells himself. Either way, that’s what impells him to take a deep breath, calming his nerves, so he can cup Jimin’s jawline with one hand and slide it to the back of his neck  to bring the boy closer and not allow him to focus on anything else.

Jimin’s heart stops on his track. His breath catches on his throat and he’s scared his expression is giving away how fucking nervous he suddenly is. Jungkook is so close, and his cold hand slightly caressing his nape is doing nothing to ease the urge on his gut to grab the younger by the shoulders and kiss him breathless right there. Jimin can’t help but allow his eyes to drop and stare at Jungkook’s lips for an instant. They shine so red and seem so soft it’s physically painful for him to stay in that position. He bites the inner part of his bottom lip to remain with the plain expression.

“Hey there beautiful.” Jungkook murmurs, but if Jimin is being completely honest, he seems just as stunned as he himself is.

“Hey.” He responds, a lot more weakly than he intended.

Then, Jungkook goes silent. He goes silent and stares at Jimin as if he’s seeing his favorite flower for the first time – Jimin could risk to say the boy is in awe, but he thinks that would be pushing too hard; and a little bit of an overstatement too. So he settles for the most reasonable option that is Jungkook realizing he has no flirting skills or whatsoever and finding himself in the middle of a mental breakdown with no pick up line to use on Jimin. That could only be it. Jimin is halfway the process of convincing himself when Jungkook’s grip on his nape tighten just the slightest and his lips part, but no sound falls out of it. He watches intently as the younger’s mouth open and close in the most delicate of ways, trying to find the sentences he’s probably mustering in his mind. Jimin is almost entranced, so that’s why when Jungkook speaks it takes so long for the words to sink in him.

“You… you have the most beautiful eyes.”

Jimin blinks once. He blinks twice. And then all the nervousness bubbling inside his stomach exposes its ugly face by urging him to laugh out loud and he completely hates it, but he can’t stop himself. He’s so nervous his fingertips are tingling and he doesn’t know exactly how to act from there. No one has ever complimented his eyes, much less told him they were the most beautiful.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asks. Jimin spares him a glance and is thankful to find out the boy doesn’t seem hurt or annoyed, just genuinely confused.

He tries to find his better way out of the situation. “Nothing, just… Are you trying to get laid or find a boyfriend?”

At that, Jungkook flushes. He mutters under his breath, “Who knows…”

Jimin looks at him startled. “What?!”

“What?!” Jungkook repeats on the same tone getting Jimin to lightly punch him on the shoulder.

“Brat.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck and looks away. Jimin doesn’t put much analysis into it. He follows the younger’s gaze until it stops at one boy a few tables across from them.

“There. Your guy.” Jungkook says all of a sudden.

Jimin acknowledges they’re not going to comment on Jungkook’s failed attempt to hit on him by an unspoken and mutual agreement. The moment was weird enough, despite Jimin’s laugher having eased the mood naturally. They didn’t need to stretch the matter for more awkward topics to surge from it. Maybe it also got Jungkook nervous – but for all the different reasons, Jimin supposes.

“What? Him?” he questions, in disbelief. “Jungkook, that guy is not gay.“

“He is.”

“He is not!”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“To be honest?”

“Okay, don’t answer that.”

Jimin shakes his head as laugher spills past his lips. He eyes the stranger Jungkook wants him to approach one more time. He’s relatively shorter than the first guy Jimin picked – totally not his type, but he has an open mind towards that –, has a dark blond hair that looks pretty good on him and an expression that definitely says “don’t come near me unless you want to be kicked”.

“Yeah, I’m not going there.”

Jungkook snorts beside him, but he doesn’t look exactly frustrated.

“Why not? He’s cute.”

“Yeah…” That wasn’t the word Jimin would use to describe the guy. “He’s not my type.”

“What?” Jungkook turns his body to completely face him. “You’re too picky!”

Jimin absorbs the sight in front of him for an instant – Jungkook has an arm resting on the backrest of the chair and the other placed on the table’s surface in a way it has all his muscles flexing. He bites his lips and diverts his gaze. Fuck, it all would be so much easier if Jungkook just wanted to fuck him. He was so hot.

“I’m not picky… I just have a type I prefer. I bet you do too.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, just smirks as if he knows something Jimin doesn’t. “Okay, so apparently we won’t get anything here, let’s walk around.”

Jimin already feels all his force leaving him, because has he really just heard the word walk?

“Why do you hate me…” he whines and pouts. “We just walked a thousand miles to get here and you already want to walk again!”

Jungkook fucking laughs and pinches his cheeks. “Ah, cute.”

Jimin slaps his hand away, flushing. “Yah!”

“Ah, come on, hyung…” the younger pleas, and Jimin pulls out his best puppy eyes in order to convince him to remain where they are, comfortably sitting on those cozy chairs – they’re not cozy really, but after walking that long distance for twenty minutes under the scorching sun any object with a slightly fluffy surface is synonymous to coziest place to sit. “Please?”

Jimin snorts. Unbelievable. “Fine.” He says in between his teeth. Blame his weakness on Jungkook’s sparkling eyes. What the hell? By any chance, has he the universe hidden in them or something? “But I'mma finish my ice cream first.”

Jungkook smiles the brightest smile of the day.

“Okay!”

The mall was oddly empty for a friday afternoon, but thanks to that it was possible for the boys to absorb every detail of the deserted corridors. They found out some shops they didn’t even know it existed until today. Jungkook was watching everything with no particular interest – for God’s sake Jimin was right there by his side –, but Jimin was watching everything as if he had never been to a mall before.

“What is that?” Jimin points to a particular facade that catches the attention for the dark colors and creepy decoration.

Jungkook frows before it comes to him.

“Oh. It’s a haunted house.”

Jimin mouth drops. “No way.”

“What?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to a haunted house!” he slightly jumps in excitement by Jungkook’s side.

“Have you never been to a mall before?” Jungkook voices his genuine curiosity.

Jimin blushes and his eyes fall to the ground as if he was cut off in the middle of a speech about a thing he loves too dearly. Jungkook instantly regrets the question, his chest constricting at the sight of the embarrassed boy.

“I have, but… This feels different… somehow.”

Jungkook’s heart loses no time at responding to Jimin’s phrase, racing as if the older had just kissed him on the forehead. He wants to ask why it feels different, but he thinks he has intruded too much already.

“I’m sorry, that was rude to ask.”

“No, it wasn’t, it’s okay.” Jimin smiles his characteristic smile.

They fall silent for a moment and Jungkook hates himself even before the words get out of his mouth.

“Why does it feels different?”

Jimin is visibly flustered; caught off guard by a question he apparently doesn’t have the answer. He doesn’t look Jungkook in the eyes, blushing so hard the pink spreads to his ears.

“Well… Um, I don’t know? Like… just… different.” He bites his bottom lip, aware he didn’t answer Jungkook’s question: why? “Um… I… I… I don’t know, maybe because, like, I have never walked around like this, or… talked so much even while eating or… I don’t know, it just feels different, and I really really want to go to that haunted house, let’s go.” he grabs Jungkook’s hands in hurry, walking fast and pulling the younger with him.

Jungkook has to contain his smile, so he doesn’t get too obvious – or delusional. He doesn’t want to presume things just to find himself wrong in the end, but it’s kinda hard when Jimin gets so flustered at a simple question and so desperate to change subjects. Jungkook watches the tensioned boy’s back in front of him, covered by a loose white t-shirt, giving the illusion his shoulders are even smaller. Jungkook loves it. He watches his nape, almost entirely covered by long strands of black hair and feels nothing but the urge to run with his lips over its soft skin, observe as Jimin’s arm hairs bristle at the touch, how his breath will probably catch in his throat and how he’ll melt when Jungkook encircles his waist with his arms, bringing him closer. He know he will. He is sure Jimin’s attracted to him too. The problem is, that’s not the only thing Jungkook wants. He wants to kiss Jimin breathless, take off his clothes and fuck the breath out of him, of course he wants, but he also wants to kiss him dearly, spend an entire night talking over the phone, nevermind the morning classes. He wants to feel what all the cliché stories tell, wants to cuddle under a warm blanket because they turned the ac to its maximum, watching some poor show Netflix decided to produce. He wants it all and not just because he is desperate for a love story. He wants it all because he is desperate for Jimin. He doesn’t know if that should scare him, but it doesn’t. Maybe he is insane, completely infatuated for a boy that is not really a boy, but an angel; or Jimin is the Romilda Vane of this story and made him drink a love potion – in any of the ways, he can’t fight the truth. He is head over heels for a sweet smile, loving eyes and a melodic laugh that keeps ringing on his ears even in the quiet. He is head over heels for the plump lips, the tiny nose and the chubby fingers.

He is completely fucked up. He knows. Falling for a boy who doesn’t do relationships. Who has only done one night stands all his life; attached to the feelings, but not to the people.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

“Two tickets, please.” Jimin’s voice draws him out of his reveries.

“Are we really going?” he asks surprised. For what he knows about Jimin, the boy can’t even watch some horror movie without shrinking every ten seconds.

Jimin stares back at him as if the question was a challenge.

“Duh? Of course.”

The man inside the decorated cabin smiles creepily at them accordingly to his character – as he is supposed to do working on a haunted house. Talking about character, Jungkook is not entirely sure about what the man is disguised as. His face is painted completely white with a mix of black and red paint around his eyes. For a child, it’d look very terrifying, like someone had tried to rip his eyes off and failed, so just the dry blood and black bruises remained – for Jungkook (and he considers himself an adult) it just looks like a very very very bad makeup. He doesn’t flinch when the man murmurs “Are you sure?” for Jimin’s request of tickets, but the older takes a step back, hitting Jungkook’s chest behind him. Enjoying the situation, he laughs.

“You okay there, hyung?”

Jimin gulps. “Shut up.” he redirects himself to the man in front of him, “And yes, I’m sure. Two tickets, please.” he repeats more confidently.

Jungkook smiles softly and places his hand over Jimin’s lower back, absently drawing patterns on it with his thumb. The air that enters his lungs is filled with the scent of Jimin’s shampoo and he feels completely intoxicated by it. It gets his heart fluttering, squeezing in a manner that’s way too familiar inside his chest. He breathes in one more time. And another. Suddenly, an addict. He wants to feel it glued to his pillows, to his clothes. Maybe he’s overreacting. He feels like he is, but he also doesn’t give a single shit, because right now Jimin is staring with loving eyes straight to his face and Jungkook swears he could kiss him right there with no hesitation or whatsoever.

“Jungkook!” Jimin stomps his feet and calls him in a tone that’s supposed to sound annoyed – but he’s giggling, so it sounds just as adorable. Jungkook feels like it’s the third time his name is being called. He smiles.

“Yes?”

“What’s gotten you so into yourself?! Let’s go!”

Jimin grabs his forearm and starts walking towards the entrance. Jungkook is glad he didn’t wait for an answer, because he had any other apart from the truth. He allows himself to be guided, whilst his palm itches to be pulled up so it can hold Jimin’s hand, but he stops midway the action – he wants to see if Jimin is going to do it by himself.

It’s not an attitude out of pride or pettiness. Jungkook is just genuinely curious about how mutual his feelings are – if it’s any.

However, he finds himself licking his lips in anticipation, heart squeezing inside his chest when time enough passes and Jimin’s hand remains firm and still on his forearm. He has to disguise the disappointment on his face, so it doesn’t become perceptible and ruin the mood.

As they walk further into the house, the lights start to vanish more and more, until Jungkook can only make out the outline of Jimin’s profile in the dark. It’s unsettling – he has to admit –, someone could easily slip behind his back and stab him in this darkness, so his sensors get him on alert mode.

Eventually, Jimin lets go of his arm, but his body continues glued by his side. He gulps down the bad taste on his tongue – it wasn’t mutual after all. Jungkook was sure their tones had always been provocative enough to be considered casual, but he should have known Jimin was a natural – flirting was just like an involuntary action for him, it didn’t mean anything further from that. He should have known he was the only one affecting. God. How stupid.

“Jungkookie?” comes Jimin’s whisper. Jungkook only then realizes the quietness of the place – Jimin’s voice sounded so loud it seemed like he had just screamed.

“Yes?”

“I think I’m regretting this, I wanna go back.” he keeps whispering, sounding frightened to the bones. Jungkook feels Jimin’s hand searching for his in the dark, so he pulls back in a quick motion and scratches his nape.

Jimin turns around to look at him and he can’t actually make out the other’s expression in the shadows, but something inside him tells Jimin looks caught between being surprised and hurt. Jungkook averts his gaze, even though there’s nowhere else to look.

“Okay. Let’s go back.”

Jimin is about to say something, when they hear nails scratching a near wall and Jungkook actually cringes. What a motherfucking sound, it hurts his ears.

He starts to walk back to the entrance, Jimin’s steps following suit behind him. It’s not long after that he hits a wall he’s sure it’s not supposed to be there since they only walked forward, not having taken any curve or whatsoever.

“Uh, hyung?”

“What is it, what’s this?” Jimin asks with a trembling voice and Jungkook’s hearts aches with need to hold him into his arms. He sighs.

“I think they locked the entrance. We can’t go back unless we reach the end.”

“ What?! They fucking did what?!”

“Well, guess you shouldn’t have chosen the ‘most scary, don’t pee in your pants’ option.”

“I… I…” Jimin ducks his head and he seems so small. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook sighs once again, looking away. “It’s okay. We just gotta get to the end. Let’s go.”

Jimin fiddles with his shirt before he decides to move, letting out a weak “okay” from his lips.

A tiny bit of what it seems like a guilty feeling sets inside Jungkook’s stomach, but he ignores it and keeps walking. He has nothing to be guilty for, if Jimin doesn’t feel the same he does, then he has no business in comforting him, right?

But he regrets the thoughts the moment they are born in his mind, and asks himself when he became so selfish and self-centered he can’t even take an unrequited crush without turning into a bitter 14 year old.

“Are the boys scared?” comes a weird voice out of nowhere and it resonates through the whole place. “Come, walk to me.”

Jimin jumps on his place. “Shit.” he has a hand over his chest.

Jungkook looks around to search the source of the voice, but finds no one. Of course he doesn’t, he can’t see shit.

“Here, hyung.” he swallows his pride. “Hold my hand.”

However Jimin walks straight up his extended fingers. “No, thanks.”

His words are harsh, but he sounds more pouty than anything else.

“Why not?” Jungkook follows him and tries not to sound offended.

“If you didn’t want to hold it before, I don’t want you to hold it out of pity now.”

Jungkook closes his eyes and allows himself to feel bad. He is seriously so stupid. What is he supposed to say? “I didn’t want to hold it, because you didn’t hold before and I assumed that because of that you didn’t like me the way I do”?

God, it sounds even more stupid when he puts it into actual words.

“What you talking about…” he says instead, but he sounds way too guilty to not know what he’s talking about, so he adds. “I just went to scratch my neck, it was itching.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jimin mumbles while still walking ahead of him.

Jungkook grabs his arm so he can stop and look at him. “Are you seriously going to be mad at me because of this?” Closer like this, and after being on the darkness for a while, Jungkook can see Jimin’s face better. He senses a faint smile coming to claim his lips when he sees the older’s cute frown, so he fights it. “Don’t give me that face…” he can’t resist the urge to caress the boy’s cheeks with a thumb.

“m’ not mad.”

Jungkook straightforward smiles this time.

“Then why you pouting?”

“m’ not pouting either.”

“Sure, you’re not.” he chuckles, all of his worries suddenly erased by round pink cheeks.

“Why you laughing? I’m really not mad so let’s go.” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s hand on his face and pulls him forward with him.

“Thought you didn’t want to hold my hand…” Jungkook mutters teasingly, just to be slapped on the arm afterwards.

“Shut up.” he returns his focus to the front, body still stiff. “Bet the ghosts took advantage of we arguing to hide better.” he whispers. “Yah!” he suddenly yells at the nothing. “Where you assholes at?! Show up already, we paid you!”

“Hyung, you know they’re not real ghosts, right?”

“Of fucking course. This tension is killing me. Where’s the end of this shit.”

Jungkook laughs. “You swear a lot more when you’re scared.”

Jimin looks back at him with an insulted air. “Who’s scared here– AH!” he jolts and goes to hind behind the younger while frantically trying to wipe something off his nape, startling Jungkook. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

“What, what?” he asks, trying to help him with the thing on his neck, but when he passes with his palm over it, it’s clean and dry. “What is it?”

“Just felt a cold breath on it, what the fuck.” he stops rubbing at the skin to look back. “Who’s there, you fuckin’ dipshit, what the fuck! Touch me and you’re dead, I'mma deck you right in the fucking face!”

Jungkook throws his head back and doesn’t hold his laugh. “Hyung, oh my god, calm down. You’re actually paying them to scare you.” Jimin doesn’t seem to care, still trying to find out who supposedly blown a breath on his neck. “And with whom you’re talking to, oh god.”

“These fuckers… They playin’ me.”

Jungkook doubles over, still laughing in the dead silent place. “Oh my god… I so wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction.”

Jimin blatantly ignores him, too focused on his pissed state of mind to hear, “Come.” he says and takes Jungkook’s hands, stomping down towards the end of the place.

But nearly a second after, someone hidden in the shadows grabs Jimin’s shin and climbs his leg by gripping his thigh with long and disgusting nails. Jungkook only has the time to look down and see a fake ass zombie makeup before Jimin as much as sinkshis knee on the guy’s face. A whimper of pain is heard throughout the entire place followed by the man falling down on the ground covering his nose.

“Oh my god?!” Jungkook gasps, utterly shocked. “Jimin!”

“Oh my god!” Jimin echoes him when reality crashes upon him and he realizes he had just kicked an employee on the face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–” he kneels before the guy, trying to take his hands away from his face so they can know the damage done. “Please, I’m so sorry, let me see how bad it is.” his voice is full of concern, and no matter how serious the situation is, Jungkook can’t help but be filled with an absurd want to laugh. Seriously, what the fuck. Who in the world pays to go into a haunted house and straightforward kicks someone in the face when getting scared?! Jungkook shakes his head watching the scene. He sure as hell got himself into a lot of trouble, so he doesn’t know how to explain why he is smiling.

•••

“I’d call that iconic. What about you?” Jungkook has been teasing Jimin for the past 20 minutes about his sudden outburst of violence in the haunted house.

“Shut up.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re changing the ‘most scary, don’t pee in your pants’ to ‘most scary, don’t kick us in the face’.”

Jimin huffs with something that Jungkook doesn’t distinguishes as a cry or a chuckle. Maybe both. When he looks back, the older has his face covered by tiny hands. “I’m so awful. Someone should prohibit me from walking out of home. I’m a threat.”

Jungkook giggles, taking the boy’s wrists on his hands and delicately pulling them down. “Believe me, you’re anything but a threat.”

Jimin scoffs, offended. “I just kicked a innocent on the face! I almost broke his nose. God, I’m lucky they didn’t call the cops or something.” he cries.

“Jimin.” Jungkook laughs in endearment. “It’s not that serious. He’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. No need to suffer.”

“But–” the guy sulks, and for some reason Jungkook can’t explain he presses his thumb over his mouth. The sensation of Jimin’s lips against his skin tickles and burns, but he does his best not to show. Jimin looks up at him with big eyes that seem to reflect all the lights around them. He’s in a loss for words, suddenly aware of how close they are. He tries to inhale as much air as he can without being noticed and slides his thumb over Jimin’s entire lips’ length, back and forth.

“No pouting.” he whispers, letting his hand fall to Jimin’s shoulder.

“No pouting.” the older repeats. “Why not?”

Too cute for me to resist.

“You’re prettier smiling.” he lies. Jimin’s beautiful in every single way.

“You calling me ugly when pouting?!”

“No, just– Prettier. I said prettier!”

“So, you calling me beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, absolutely mesmerizing, that takes your breath away?” he dramatizes with a giggle, but Jungkook is unable to deny.

“Yes.”

At that, Jimin falls silent – his smile disappearing in tune with his cheeks reddening.

Jungkook bites his lower lip, hearing his heart beat on his throat, and takes the hand on Jimin’s shoulder to the back of his neck. He curls his fingers on the boy’s hair resting there and feels slightly overwhelmed by the softness of it. Jimin is watching him with parted red lips and a pair of rosy cheeks that gets Jungkook closing the distance between them in a second. But before their lips can touch, he hears Taehyung’s deep voice screaming his name resound through the entire place. Jungkook all but jumps on his spot, jolting Jimin too, who instantly detaches himself from his arms. Jungkook pretend the action doesn’t hurt him like a punch in the gut. When he looks back, Taehyung is bouncing his way till them while waving like an excited child – big smile glued to his lips. Jungkook feels his cheeks heating and scratches his nape, not throwing a single glance towards Jimin.

“Jungkookie! Oh. And Jiminie too, what a meeting!” he reaches them and it’s only then Jungkook realizes he’s got company.

“Hey!” he forces a smile into him he sure as hell doesn’t want to give. Actually, he could pretty much just happily pretend Taehyung’s face is a  ball and offer it to the World Cup to play its matches with it. For free. But he’s a polite man – as polite as burping in public is considered –, so he just tilts his head to the other man by Taehyung’s side and doesn’t let his smile falter before his beauty. It never faltered beside Jimin, so it shouldn’t now. “Hello you.”

The blonde guy ducks his head in greeting. “Hello, I’m Taemin, a friend of Taehyung’s friend.” he chuckles, “I just moved into the town, nice to meet you!” his smile is so sweet Jungkook’s bitterness for the interruption almost melts.

“Ah! Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook!”

“I know, Taehyung has only been talking ‘bout you all day.”

“He can’t help it, he’s head over heels for me.”

Taehyung scoffs. They both laugh and Taemin redirects his gaze to Jimin. “And you must be Jimin… Taehyung should have told me he had a friend this gorgeous.”

Jungkook frowns, offended, but looks away so no one notices.

“Ah, thank you.” Jimin says in that flushed tone he uses when Jungkook makes him embarrassed. It’s awkward to see it directed to someone else. “It’s nice to meet you, Taemin-ssi.”

They exchange smiles for way too long to be casual in Jungkook’s opinion, until Taehyung interrupts:

“So? Are you two on a date?”

Taemin seems suddenly taken aback by this question, and, somehow, this just makes Jungkook more pissed – the clear interest of Taemin in Jimin, for some reason, making him feel extremely uncomfortable on his own skin. Maybe is because Taemin is too pretty.

He doesn’t know what gets into him. He wants more than ever to confirm, to say that yes, they are on a date.But, perhaps he’s too scared to hear Jimin’s voice denying it. It may hurt more than he expects. So instead he just shifts his gaze to the ground and mutters:

“As if.”

By the way Jimin’s posture changes beside him, it seems like he’s offended – maybe even hurt –, but Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to look him in the face, so he remains on his position and waits for the older to say something.

“Ah…” his voice seems small, “Yes,” but it quickly lights up again as its usual, “Jungkook was just trying to be my cupid, but I think we got too lost in the wonders of the mall.” he giggles cutely and Jungkook all but instantly feels guilty about his previous answer. A simple ‘no, we’re not’ would have done it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Cupid?” Taehyung’s voice peaks with interest. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tries to make it up for his harsh tone before and answers softly:

“Jimin has never gone to a date before. So I was trying to set him up with someone to prove a point.”

“Which is?” Taemin takes part in the conversation, and it doesn’t matter how much he wants to, Jungkook can’t bring himself to talk dryly at him. His features are too nice. And even though he knows he shouldn’t let himself be swept away for a cute face so easily, he was never able to help it.

“That dates are cool.”

Taemin nods in agreement. “Oh, yeah, dates are cool.”

“See?!” Jungkook takes the chance to reafirm his point, to which Jimin just roll his eyes.

“But are you sure you two weren’t on a date? Looking by far, I’d say you two were pretty close to not be on a date.” Taehyung insists.

Jimin ducks his head, cheeks pink, and it falls on Jungkook to come up with a lie. He doesn’t even know why he’s lying to begin with. But still.

“Told you we’re not.” Jungkook stutters, when he remembers in which position Taehyung found them, but then he reassures himself it’s all good by also remembering that 1: he and Taemin were distant from them and 2: they could only see his back by that angle. So okay, they were good. “I was just taking a thing out of his eyes.”

“Yeah, sure.” Taehyung mocks. “I’ll ask you to take a thing out of my eye later night.” That meant when they got home he’d pester Jungkook until he told him everything.

Jungkook notices Jimin’s eyes widening a bit, but the boy soon finds his composure, fixing his hair and focusing his attention on something else.

“Didn’t know you guys had this close of a friendship.” Taemin joins Taehyung’s play and looks all but too pleased, if the glow in his eyes is to say anything.

Jungkook watches Jimin’s reaction closely, but the boy is still avoiding eye contact, expression unreadable.

“He’s my best company on lonely nights.” Taehyung adds in a dreamy tone, so Jungkook kicks him.

“Aish, enough already.”

Ever so maturely, Taehyung sticks out his tongue, a smirk hidden in the corner of his lips he makes sure his best friend sees. Jungkook rolls his eyes at that.

“Okay, enough, but, if you two aren’t on a date…” he regains Jimin’s attention with these words, “and apparently haven’t found a date for Jiminie yet…” Oh no – Jungkook knows what’s to come. He shoots bullets with his eyes at the stupid dumbass, but it’s useless. “Why don’t he go out with Taemin-hyung? It’s a double-kill – hyung gets to meet the city and go out with Jiminie and Jimin gets to go on a date! Perfect!”

Yeah, except that no.

Taehyung gets so much on Jungkook’s nerves sometimes, because he’s got this silly personality, so it makes everyone think he’s as thick as walls, but he’s actually so observant it’d shock them all to the core. It is why Jungkook is getting so pissed. Taehyung knows pretty damn well his intentions and yet, he’s still in front of him trying to set a date between Taemin and Jimin as if it’s fucking nothing. Jungkook decides to not talk with him for the rest of the day. And he means it.

He remains quiet overall. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s in too deep just to scare Jimin away. So against all the cells in his body in alert mode, begging for him to step in – even if it’s just to crack a joke and make it all seem funny –, he doesn’t. Perhaps he’s also curious about Jimin’s reaction, so there’s that. He searches for the older’s eyes and is caught by surprise at the realization that the boy is watching him.

Jungkook wonders if he’s also waiting for a reaction. He wants to express one. He wants so bad. He’s about to, when Taemin smiles the brightest smile and lights up the entire place.

“Oh! That sounds like a plan. I like it! What about you, Jimin? Would you like to go on a date with me?” from the moment the first word slips out of Taemin’s mouth Jungkook already knows it’s a lost case. It just needs a quick glance to his sparkly expression to understand a “no” isn’t in the list of options for Jimin’s answers. Jungkook lowers his gaze and tries to block the sound of Jimin’s voice when he accepts it. It kinda hurts his chest. He ignores the entire conversation from that point forward. He doesn’t want to listen any of it.

The four of them walk home together – Jungkook drowning in silence while he texts Namjoon all the way back and pretends it’s the most interesting thing he’s done all day. He doesn’t look up to see Jimin’s face when they say goodbye.

[howshouldibegin]

i found you in pieces

Uliro Week 2017 Day Five:  Sick/Healing Rating: Teen

[Also here on AO3]

Shiro had been vanished for about two weeks, all told.  His memories of that time were fuzzy, but honestly, just add them to the giant pile of fuzzy memories at this point.

The reunion after Shiro had stumbled out of the Black Lion, was joyous and filled with a  few tears, and plenty of people talking over each other, trying to catch up all at once.  Noisy, messy chatter about how they searched for Shiro, how things had been so quiet lately since the defeat of Zarkon, the state of their alliances with Kolivan and with the Olkari, and other bits of information each person thought was important for Shiro to know right now. It took a bit, but Shiro eventually managed to speak over everyone to ask, “Lance, what happened to your arm?”

The Blue Paladin's left arm was in a sling, and Shiro could see the bulky bandages swaddling his shoulder under his clothes.  Half the group shared awkward glances while the other half looked at anything but another person.

Allura gently touched his elbow, getting his attention.  “It's quite a story.  You may want to sit for it.”

Shiro was just bewildered.  “Okay,” he said slowly.  “But, why not use a healing pod?  Were they damaged in the battle with Zarkon?”

“Oh, no, they weren't damaged,” Allura assured him.  “But we needed one to operate at maximum efficiency for a time, so Lance agreed to wait.”

“I'm fine.  My shoulder's healing okay on its own,” Lance said, waving off Shiro's concerned frown.

“What happened?” Shiro demanded.

“Sit, please Shiro.”

Shiro sat, and the others arrayed themselves around him, Keith and Pidge claiming the seats nearest to him.  

Together, everyone offered bits of the story.  

Four days previous, Hunk had caught a faint signal, and after an hour or so of tinkering with Pidge, managed to decipher that it was a distress beacon.  Together they managed to narrow down the broad signal to the Wozblay system.  There they found a disabled ship, small and badly damaged, parts of its hull crumpled like tissue paper, though scans showed it was miraculously still airtight.  Lance and Keith were the ones to inspect it, quick, focussed, and surprisingly in sync with each other, especially once they found it to be a Galra ship.  Keith's Galra heritage allowed them to make progress fairly quickly, and with bayards at the ready, they cleared the ship from the airlock to the tiny bridge.  Lance crouched, aiming his bayard at the door, and Keith held his at the ready, body shielded by the frame as Lance nodded at him to open the doors.

Lance had been crouched to avoid any head or torso shots, but apparently the pilot of the ship had been aiming for knee shots, and with Lance in a lower position, he gained the shoulder wound he had hoped to avoid.

The shot found a seam in the armour, and Lance went down with an arc of blood and a shouted curse, while Keith leapt into the doorway, shield out to protect them both from any further shots, but he froze in place as the pilot rasped out, “Humans?  Paladins?”

Standing protectively over Lance, Keith warily confirmed, scanning the room for the pilot.  The bridge was small, only enough room for maybe three people, with a single control console in the centre.  He was shocked when the blaster skidded across the floor from behind the console, followed by a familiar blade.

“Marmora?” Keith blurted out incredulously.

“I am unarmed,” came the weak reply.

Keith exchanged a look with Lance, and Lance jerked his chin toward the room, then painfully brought his blaster up to stare down the sight to cover Keith.  His hand left stark red streaks on his bayard.

So Keith entered the room, sticking closely to the wall until he made visual contact with their attacker.  He recognized him, despite the severe and extensive injuries, and immediately called for medical assistance for both Lance and the pilot.

“Who the hell did you find on that ship?” Shiro asked.

“Shiro,” Pidge said softly.  “We found Ulaz.”

Shiro couldn't process the words; they made no sense.  Silence held everyone's tongues still for the longest ten seconds of his life as Pidge's words echoed in his head.  

He vaulted the back of the lounge.  He bolted.  He ignored everyone's shouts of surprise.  He had to see.  He had to know.  He couldn't do this twice.  He couldn't grieve twice.

He ran, straight to the healing pod room.  He caught himself on the door with his hands to keep himself from slamming into it, as it didn't open fast enough for the pace he was going.  

And in a central healing pod, looking far worse than Shiro had ever seen him before, yet so much better, so miraculously better, was Ulaz.

For a long moment, Shiro couldn't move, couldn't even tear his eyes away from Ulaz, could barely breathe.  Then he took one shaking step forward, and another, and continued forward on legs that felt like they would barely carry him anywhere, until he was close finally enough to touch the surface of the healing pod, drinking in the sight of familiar features, and features no longer so familiar.

He didn't know how long he stared, but he finally managed to look away when Coran laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

“Easy, lad,” Coran said gently.  “He's had a rough go of it, your Ulaz.  We weren't sure he would make it at first.  He was . . . pretty badly injured when we found him.”

“How?” Shiro croaked.  “H-how is he still alive?  We saw him die, imploding that ro-beast so we could get away.  How is he here?”  His head spun, trying to understand everything.  It'd been a hectic time, leading up to that final battle with Zarkon, but it had been at least two or three weeks from Ulaz's sacrifice to Shiro disappearance, then another two weeks until he returned.  That was at least a month, so the fact that Ulaz survived with such injuries for that long was astounding in itself.

“Hunk found a sort of stasis chamber in the wreckage of Ulaz's ship.  We think that he triggered the space pocket while inside the ro-beast, then entered into stasis.  The xanthorium chunks that fuelled the explosion must have ejected Ulaz's ship halfway across the quadrant, until it limped to a stop just past the Wozblay system.  Pidge managed to get from the stasis chamber's remaining codes that it held Ulaz as long as it could, but it started destabilizing about five days ago and released him, where he probably set up the distress signal.  So really, it was only about a day that Ulaz managed with his injuries.  I don't think he would have lasted much longer if we hadn't found him when we did.”

Shiro let his breath shudder out and he leaned his forehead against the healing pod.  “I . . . is he . . .  um, will he be alright?”

“Eventually,” Coran assured him.  “The pod's almost done with what it can do, but he'll still be in pretty rough shape.  It had a lot to do.  Punctured lung, it's a good thing Galra have three anyway; broken ribs of course; broken shoulder, that'll give him some troubles, Galra shoulder joints are tricky things; several internal injuries.  He's lost that eye, and most of the ear, obviously, the pods can only do so much.  Can't heal what's gone. A few other fractured bones here and there.  He's lucky he's young, he'll bounce back quicker than a fully grown Galra.”

“Young?” Shiro asked, focussing on the only part he could.  So much pain and so many scars and so little Shiro could do.

“Well, 'young' is relative, but yes, Ulaz is only just entering his second decafeeb, that is to say, in human terms, ah, twenty years?  Yes, he is twenty years old, give or take a few of your 'months'.  Most Galra don't start getting darker until their third or fourth decafeeb, hence why his colouring is still so pale.”

“He has hair,” Shiro pointed out stupidly.  He was zeroing in on all the wrong things.  He could barely focus on anything at all beyond the crushing relief in his chest.

“Yes, well, I don't think the Galra quite figured out the knack of Altean cryo pods.  He still aged while in stasis.  Healed a little, too, but not much.”

Coran was being endlessly patient with Shiro, willing to answer anything he hyperfocussed on, whether it was relevant or not.  Hair, for God's sake.  What did Ulaz's hair have to do with anything?  Not a damn thing, is what.  Shiro was abruptly glad that it was Coran alone and not the entire group there right now.  It was too much, and Shiro already felt the jagged edge of a breakdown coming.  Coran would understand.  The others wouldn't, not in the way Shiro needed them to understand right now.  

“Ulaz will be fine,” Coran reiterated.  “I promise you, he will be fine.”

“When will he be released from the pod?” Shiro asked.  He was sure Coran had said earlier, but could barely understand the 'he will be fine' part of all that Coran had told him, let alone anything else.

“Soon.  Tomorrow at some point.  Why don't you go get cleaned up, get some rest, and be at your best when he's done?”

“I- . . . no, I can't go.”

“Yes, you can.  I'll stay with him until you get back.”

Shiro said nothing, refused to budge from his position.  How could he leave as soon as he found Ulaz again?  And how could he face any of the others right now?  

“Shiro,” Coran said, his voice losing some of the gentle tone had had had while assuring Shiro.  “Nothing will happen while you take care of yourself too.  I'll be here.  Go.”

Shiro went, operating on autopilot, silently vowing to be back as soon as humanly possible.

Showers for Shiro were normally quick endeavors, but he couldn't make himself stop shaking, couldn't stop the tears of relief from blending with the hot water, could barely catch his breath.  Once he finally managed to get out of the shower, he changed into his regular clothing, grabbed a few supplies, and made his way back to the healing pod room.  Coran had half-heartedly scowled at Shiro when he came back, as Shiro had barely been gone an hour, but gave it up as a lost cause when Shiro insisted that he'd rest right there, waving a blanket at Coran as proof of his intentions.  Begrudgingly, Coran left Shiro alone with Ulaz, assuring him that the others would leave him be for the next day or so.  

Coran was stopped by Shiro's voice calling his name as he reached the doors, and turned back to face the Black Paladin.  Shiro was already wrapped in the blanket and curled up next to Ulaz's pod, and he refused to meet Coran's eyes, but he hoarsly whispered out a heartfelt, “Thank you.”  Coran smiled, and left Shiro to his vigil.

Shiro slept fitfully, more than the usual nightmares working to ruin his sleep.  More than once, he had to get up and check the condition of Ulaz's healing pod, pulling up the status monitors so he could watch Ulaz's heartbeat, and get his own to settle.  Even so, he was asleep, and startled awake when the pod's shield lifted, in the early hours of a new day.  He jumped up in time to catch Ulaz when he stumbled out, and felt the Galra tense in his arms.  

“It's okay,” Shiro assured him quickly.  “You're safe, Ulaz, you're on the Castle of Lions, and you're safe.”

Almost instantly Shiro felt Ulaz's muscles relax, and Shiro took a moment to pull at the blanket still twisted around his hips so he could swing it around Ulaz's shoulders.  

“Shiro,” Ulaz murmured, turning to face Shiro so he could stare with his one good eye.  “You're alright.”

“Hi,” Shiro said, smiling.  “Thank you for saving us.  Please don't do anything like that ever again.”

Ulaz chuckled weakly.  “I have no intention of doing such again.”

“C'mon, lets get you laying down.  You were injured pr-pretty badly,” Shiro said, wrapping an arm around Ulaz's waist.  The two of them made their way to Shiro's room in comfortable silence, just basking in each others' presence without the threat of danger looming overhead.  It was a novel sensation for them both, and not one either of them would take for granted.

Shiro helped Ulaz into his bed, tugging blankets out of the way, then over Ulaz's broad frame, and absently noted that the beds on this level were obviously not made with Galra height in mind, as Ulaz had to curl up on his side to tuck himself in properly without hitting walls.  Hopefully there were some quarters that were made for Galra on the castle.

“I'll leave you to rest,” Shiro said quietly, intending to find Coran and see about different quarters, but was stopped by a gentle hand grasping his wrist, claws just barely dragging on his skin.  Shiro pulled up short, and turned to look at Ulaz, who was looking back at Shiro intently.  

“Stay.  Please.  We should speak.”

Shiro smiled softly.  “Of course.”  He sat at the edge of the bed, and rested a hand on Ulaz's left cheek, just below the scarred eye.  “I'm not going anywhere.”