#at this rate wonderful pretty cure is going to make me cry too

[lady-gravity-129]

So like, I finished that video and barely had time to process everything because my weekly shows are on right now but oh my gosh whyyyyyy

MAJOR spoilers under the cut

WHEN DEAN DIED I LEGIT ALMOST STARTED CRYING LIKE WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME

[baileypie-writes]

~My Thoughts on Wonderful Pretty Cure! - Episodes 41-45~

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

Episode 41 - Yuki On Stage!:

I don’t have much to say about this episode at all. It’s just more filler.

I did really like the theatre kids. They were really funny. And the story was pretty cute.

Yuki looked so beautiful in that dress. She really looked the part of the goddess she was playing. And it was pretty funny how Niko appearing was only talked about once, and never again. Typical Pretty Cure stuff.

Zakuro continues to disappoint me every time she appears. This time, she’s proven even more just how un-loyal she is to Gaon. And not only was it once again for a minor, but for a girl as well. I’m not saying that in a homophobic way. Just a “no one is safe” way.

It really sucks just how much filler is in this season…

My rating for this episode:

5/10 - F

~~~~

Episode 42 - Everyone’s Wonderful Pets!:

Again, more filler. But this one was cute and entertaining, so I don’t mind.

Seeing Animal Town’s residents and their pets was so sweet. I also love how everyone reflects an animal as well. Like how Kanie’s like a crab(and owns them), and how the mayor’s like a bird. It’s just a fun detail.

I really wish we got more of a realistic interaction between human Yuki and Mayu’s father. He just accepts that she can turn human; not questioning anything. But I should really know by now that realistic parents are too much to ask for in Pretty Cure. They just go with anything, haha.

I’m getting more and more curious about if the show’s hinting at Torame being reformed. He just wants to play, and always has fun with the Pretty Cure. I hope he does switch sides. He really deserves better than Zakuro.

My rating for this episode:

8/10 - B-

~~~~

Episode 43 - Feelings Spun Together:

Realizing just how much Mayu has grown makes me feel so proud. She couldn’t even speak to people when we were first introduced to her. But now, she’s teaching her friends how to knit with no problems! I feel like a proud mother.

I fully expected this episode to be pure filler. But I was pleasantly surprised when we got some lore! Gaou and the human who wrote the journal were friends. Obviously, something must’ve happened to make him hate humans so much. My initial guess was that the man might’ve joined others in hunting the wolves down. But it didn’t make sense to me.

So my actual theory is that the other humans did something to the nice one to prevent him from defending the wolves. Gaou got mad that they’d do that to their own species. And since they also hunted his own, he started hating humans.

That’s my guess. We can find out if I’m right after around a month.

Lastly, we got some focus on Zakuro. It looks like she’s starting to question Gaou. I really didn’t expect that. I thought it would only be Torame who had a chance to be reformed. But the more the merrier, I guess!

My rating for this episode:

8/10 - B-

~~~~

Episode 44 - Lots of Happiness:

As someone with a pet who’s getting old, this episode hit me hard. The fact that I’ll eventually have to say goodbye to my sweet baby crosses my mind every day. This episode made me put myself in Otsuru’s shoes, and partly experience what that’ll be like.

I didn’t expect to see a pet death in Wonderful Pretty Cure. I knew it was a possibility, but I highly doubted it coming true due to this season’s happy and silly nature. So I praise the show for adding this. Saying goodbye to our pets is a harsh reality most don’t like to think about. But this episode makes us watch and experience the emotions that are happening on screen. It hurts, but I believe it’s a good thing.

The moment Fuku stood up to try and cheer Otsuru up made me cry harder than I already was. It really highlights how our pets see us as the most important things in their lives. All they want is to be happy with us. So even in her last moments, Fuku found a way to put a smile on Otsuru’s face.

I also loved that Torame paused the Gaogaon just to let Otsuru through. He really does care about animals, and he’s always proving it.

After watching this episode, I made sure to give my pets lots of love. And I suggest all of you to do the same, if you have one. Animals’ lifespans are so unfortunately short, so give them all the affection you can. Because time flies faster than we can imagine.

My rating for this episode:

10/10 - A+

~~~~

Episode 45 - Friends Forever:

I’ve known Torame wasn’t all bad for a while now. For the past few episodes, I was really hoping he’d be reformed. And he was, but not in the way I expected.

It made me so happy seeing him run and play with the others. That’s really all he wanted this whole time. So I’m glad he finally got to have proper fun.

I can’t believe I didn’t fully comprehend that Torame was already dead before. It only sunk in once he was purified. While I’m really sad to see his character go, I’m happy his spirit was finally put to rest. He was my favorite villain of this season, so I’m glad he got a happy ending.

My rating for this episode:

9/10 - A

~~~~

Final score for these episodes:

80% - B-

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

So I was looking for tags on the cdrama "The Mermaid's Pearl" but could not find one. I wonder why is that?

Admittedly, this one is not on par with most dramas I watch. The rating on the internet is also low. I think I know why.

But if you're looking for cuteness and fluff with scenes that make you smile like hot chocolate and if you don't care much about actresses crying without tears (aka not so great acting) and bad directing skills and cuts, this could be just it.

On to how I found this. So I was looking for a quick cdrama to binge. When too tired afterwork, I have this guilty pleasure of reading through plots, watching the first few eps. Then when I get the gist, I'll leisurely fast forward or move eps looking for cute or fun scenes. You know, like living leisurely through the characters (for the sake of feeling things and pretending you got a life outside work and home).

Plot wise, tbh, I skipped a lot on this one. The plot itself is pretty simple. Mermaid girl (FL) left water to look for her kidnapped father. The ML is a rich young man who is known as a detective. He is also sick and they believe finding a mermaid will help cure him. She agreed because he has a lot of food (being rich and all) and he also might be able to help her find her dad.

Suspecting she's a mermaid (kinda hard not to) when she literally threw her pearls at him when they first met, he decided to keep her by his side.

So murder mysteries happen along the way and the guy has a fangirl/fiancee who wants to marry him. The emperor is also looking for a way to live abnormally long and orders people to go on expeditions to look for mermaids to aid that quest.

That is basically the whole gist of it.

Cuteness wise, can I just say I love and adore how the ML cares for the FL? Like, she's like a fluffy bunny and he's the master who takes care of her. They are so cute together and he also is sensitive to his own feelings so there's not much waiting. Their scenes make me laugh and just smile, thinking I want to be loved the way he loves her. : ) 🩷 Plus, it's comedy XD

At first he was telling her to stay away from him because she has no boundaries. But all too soon, he just came to accept how trusting and comfortable she is with him. He also gets jealous easily lol.

In this scene for instance, she literally just fell asleep using his hand as a pillow (like a cat) and he lets her. #Fluff

Acting wise, the ML actor, Shi An, is actually pretty good. It's just that the cuts and the scenes they were acting in are really like you're watching students' made film where quality is not the focus. So tbh, I blame the director and writer and producers more than the actors. Or maybe, that is indeed their goal? Idk. If it is then they succeeded.

Watch it if you dare, but as I said, a lot of things about it are pretty crappy. So don't expect too much.

But bottomline, I still very much enjoyed the very short cute fluff scenes between the ML and FL. :) I even replay them (just the cute scenes) when I need a pick-me-up. So it isn't so bad. At least not for me.

[sergeantsporks]

Nowhere Else to Go

Rating: Teen, Gen

Graphic depictions of violence, Major character death.

TW: Self-harm, mentioned child abuse, emotional manipulation

Chapter 3/4: Smoke and Mirrors

Ch 1, Ch 2

The sound of shattering glass woke Lilith up.

She rubbed her eyes. Why was she on the floor in Eda’s room? Oh. Right. Hunter. Where was he?

She shuffled towards the direction of the sound she’d heard and opened the bathroom door. Hunter was sitting on the floor, coughing, holding Belos’ mask over his face. The mirror was broken in a spiderweb of cracks, and Lilith glanced at Hunter’s hand to see bruises forming on his knuckles. She slid down the wall to sit next to him.

“I never liked that mirror either.”

His shoulders shook. “I keep looking in the mirror—and it’s his face, and it’s his curse, and I—”

Lilith got up and left, returning with a blanket. She walked up to the mirror, her own face reflecting back at her in a thousand broken shards. She covered up the mirror with the blanket, using a plant glyph to tie it in place. She sat back down to Hunter, imitating his arms-on-knees position. She didn’t say anything, just sat there.

“I just—I think I remember some of it, he had this book, and he had all of this stuff, and then… I don’t know anymore.” Hunter slowly lowered the mask, setting it on the floor. “I woke up, and he was gone, and I was stuck like this.”

“Luz… Luz told me that one of the Palisman chose you. Where did it—”

To Lilith’s surprise, Hunter’s eyes welled up with tears, and he shrank back into himself, burying his face in his arms. She heard a muffled sob, and his shoulders shook even harder

“Oh.” Lilith reached out and tentatively put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

He made surprisingly little noise for how hard his shoulders were heaving. Lilith got up and left, closing the bathroom door. The instant she was out, she heard him start sobbing. Her hand shook on the doorknob, and she dropped with a thud to her knees, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Lilith?” her mother said quietly, poking her head up the stairs.

She got up, making her way down to the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Is he…”

“I think… I think he’s finally had the time to process what happened to him. Got over the shock.”

“And…”

“He’s angry. Sad. Unsure of what he’s doing.”

“Ah.”

Lilith heard a thud from upstairs, and she grabbed a bottle of elixir, running back to the bathroom. Hunter was choking on the curse again, and he clawed desperately at Lilith’s hand when she knelt next to him.

“I’ve got you,” she promised, tilting the bottle of elixir down his throat, “That’s it. Easy, there.”

He coughed up the remaining slime and curled his knees back up to his chest. “Thank you.”

“Do you… need anything?”

He looked down to the side, chest still heaving from the attack. “No. Thank you.”

Lilith stood there awkwardly for a few more moments. “Right. Okay.”

She went back downstairs. “Another attack,” she explained, “I’m wondering if they’re related to stress, or high emotion, like the owl beast is, or if they’re completely random.”

Her mother shifted uneasily. “If it’s like you said and the curse is going to kill him, it might just be that the attacks are getting worse because he’s closer to the end.”

Lilith’s hands curled into fists. “No. No, that’s not going to be his end. I’m not going to let him die because Belos decided—”

Her mother gently took her hand, uncurling the fist and holding her flat hand between her own. “Lilith, love. Calm down. Take a step back. What do we know about the curse?”

Lilith took in a deep breath. “We know Belos struggled for years to find a cure. He was never successful. We know the curse doesn’t follow a soul—if it did, the swap wouldn’t have worked. It follows a body. We know that the elixir has been staving off attacks, at least, so it must share some qualities with the Owl Beast curse.”

“That’s my girl. Keep it up—I’m almost done with breakfast.”

Lilith paced the kitchen floor. “We know it started on the outward appearance first—hence the mask Belos always wore. As time went on, it moved in on the inner organs, like it’s doing now to Hunter. But what about the palisman, where do they fit in?”

“What?”

“Luz teamed up with Hunter when the Emperor was trying to steal palisman—and Hunter had a palisman, but it’s gone now, and he seems pretty distraught about it, so I don’t think it just got lost or separated. Clearly the Emperor is destroying palisman for some reason, but what?!”

“Why don’t you ask Hunter?”

“You heard him crying, right? I don’t think he’s going to be ready to talk about it for a while.”

“He might not have a while, Sweet Flea.”

“Still. I won’t put him through it again.” Lilith leaned against the kitchen cupboard. “I… think he has nightmares. I’ve had curse-related nightmares before, and Eda said she had some—and in some of them she saw me, or at least a shadowy form of me.”

“You think Hunter might have a clue to where the curse came from in his nightmare.”

“It… wouldn’t be fun. For him to relive it. But Hootsifer sent me a letter about how Eda managed to unlock her harpy form from interacting with her curse in an enchanted sleep. If Hunter is okay with it—we may be able to find out more.”

“If he’s okay with it.”

“Who would want to relive their nightmares at full strength?” Lilith asked quietly, “But our options are closing off. If Eda hasn’t seen Hunter’s body running around, there’s not much we can do about getting that rat Belos to switch back. And even if we did catch him, I’m not sure there’s much we could threaten him with that would make him switch back to a dying body. It may be our best bet to cure Belos’ body instead of trying to get Hunter back in his. That would at least give us time to find Belos. Hunter said that the only thing Belos wouldn’t try was wild magic. He thinks that means there’s a cure in the glyphs. I’m not sure though, it might just be that wild magic did this to Belos.”

“Mmm.” Her mother handed her two plates. “One for you, one for your new apprentice.”

Lilith nearly dropped the plates. “App—mother!”

“What? I saw you teaching him magic! Doesn’t that make him your apprentice?”

“It’s more—I don’t know! He can’t do magic without help, I’m not sure that’s something I can—whatever.” Lilith tightened her grip on the plates, thumping up the stairs. The light was still on in the bathroom, and she slowly pushed the door open.

The plates dropped to the floor, and she skidded down on her knees next to him, grabbing his wrists.

“Hunter, no!”

A broken shard of mirror was in his hands, coated in slime and blood. He’d been gouging at the curse on his face, like he could somehow dig the magic out. His breath hitched in his chest, and he struggled against her, trying to get at his face again. Lilith’s stomach heaved as she looked at his face—he’d managed to cut to the bone, but the curse was already moving to cover it up. Blood dripped down his face, like someone in one of Eda’s grotesque horror movies.

“Hunter! Hunter, stop!”

Lilith managed to pry the shard of broken glass out of Hunter’s hands, wincing and dropping it as it cut her. His palms were bloody and scratched up from gripping the shard. He kept trying to yank away from her, his eyes wide and panicked.

“I can’t—lemme go, I have to—I can’t—”

“Hey—Hey, shhhhhhh. Shhhh, it’s okay—Hunter, please—”

He launched himself into her shoulder, sobbing. Blood and slime and tears all mixed on her dress, but Lilith didn’t care. She let him keep crying into her shoulder, gently rubbing his back.

“Hey. Heeeey,” she soothed, like she might for a frightened animal, “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I can’t keep—I just keep thinking—and then there’s the attacks, and I just—”

“Okay. Okay, I know. I know, it’s…” it was what? Okay? It wasn’t okay, this curse was killing him, and it was driving up his anxiety before it did. So she just hugged him tighter. “I’ve got you,” she repeated fiercely

He sniffed and pulled back. Lilith kicked the mirror shard away and opened up a cabinet. “Okay. Let’s take a look at those cuts.” She carefully bandaged up the slices on his face, then his palm. She bandaged up the cuts on her own hand, too, and held it up. “There. We match.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“I—I just—I—”

“Hunter. It’s okay. Really.”

He coughed, wiping away slime. “Ugh—I… I think…”

“I think you need a nap,” Lilith suggested gently, “You look awful.”

He gripped her wrist, his fingers like a vise. “No!”

“…Nightmares?” Lilith guessed.

“I can’t—I just keep seeing him, and then it’s me, and my palisman—” his eyes filled with tears. “It was an accident!” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean… to do what?”

“Belos would sort of… drain palisman, take all of their magic. It staved off the curse, made it better.”

“O-oh. Did he…”

Hunter’s shoulders started to shake again. “I’d just woken up. I was confused. Belos was gone. I didn’t know where I was, or what was going on, and it tried to comfort me, and—” He buried his face in his hands. “I killed it! I killed—”

Almost involuntarily, Lilith wrapped her arms around him again. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said fiercely, “You weren’t trying to—it was Belos’ fault.”

“It was my friend,” Hunter sobbed, his voice cracking, “It was the only one I had! And I—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lilith repeated, “It wasn’t.”

Hunter rubbed the bandages covering his face. “This stupid curse.”

Lilith caught his wrists again, gently pulling his hands away from his injured face. “Eda… has been able to control when she transforms. She made peace with her curse. Accepted it as part of who she is. Maybe if—”

Hunter stood up, hands clenched in fists. “Accept it?! Accept what?! This isn’t my curse! I didn’t do anything to get it, Belos did, and then just dumped it on me. I shouldn’t have to accept it!”

“I know—I know it’s not fair, I know it never should have happened to you, but until we can find Belos, or a cure, we have to figure out other ways to keep it from spreading.”

“I can’t accept it! I—”

Hunter broke off in a fit of coughing, gasping and choking. Lilith grabbed an elixir from her room and raced back down the hallway, tilting the bottle. Hunter gasped and sputtered, and panic started to sweep over Lilith like a tidal wave. It wasn’t working!

Hunter gurgled in a final kind of way, twitching and Lilith laid him flat on the ground, tilting his head back and pushing down with the heel of her hands on his chest. “One, two, three, four,” she started counting under her breath. “MOTHER! HELP!”

She kept pushing. “Please,” she murmured, “please work, please work, please work—”

Feathers were starting to sprout on her arms, and she willed them to go away. “Not now, owl beast!” she pleaded, “Not now! Literally any time but now!”

She pushed harder, tears rolling down her face. “Please!”

Hunter gagged and coughed, heaving in desperate, frantic breaths. He latched onto her arm, hacking and coughing.

“Lilith—”

Lilith clutched his arm just as tightly, although she made sure her claws weren’t hurting him. “Oh my magic—okay. Okay, okay, okay.” She took in a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

He coughed, spitting out more curse slime. “I—I think so. The elixir—why didn’t it work, it was working before-!”

Lilith yanked him into a hug. “I thought I’d lost you!” she gasped.

He tensed for a moment, but then slowly wrapped his arms around her. “I’m… still here.”

To Lilith’s surprise, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I know, I know.”

Her mother finally burst in the door. “What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!”

“The elixirs aren’t working,” Hunter explained quietly.

Lilith hugged him tighter. “We’ll find something else.”

“…Lilith, dear, can I talk to you?”

Lilith sat back, holding Hunter by the shoulders. “We’re going to figure this out,” she promised, then followed her mother out to her room. “What?”

“… Lilith, if the elixirs aren’t working, I don’t think we have much time left. And you’re not any closer to finding a cure for this thing.”

“No! We’re going to fix this, I’m going to fix this! He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t have to go like this!”

“Sweet Flea, it’s like you said when he first got here. It might just be a matter of making him comfortable before—”

“NO!” Lilith took a deep breath as feathers started to sprout around her neck. “No. That’s not an option. Not anymore. I’m going to get rid of this curse if it’s the last thing I do.”

Ch 4

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Lost And Found

Characters: Law, Lammy, Heart Pirates Rating: Teen Warnings: Language, PTSD, Depression, and Anxiety mention Notes: I know this has probably been done a million times but it’s my turn (: AO3 Link

~~~~~

“Where are you going today, Cap?” Shachi grinned at Law. Law shrugged. “Wandering?”

Law grunted. He watched his crew walk off the Polar Tang. Not at the actual port, of course. Submarines were suspicious enough, let alone one sailing with a black flag. They found a quiet little beach to disembark safely. Law looked back at Shachi. “You know what they say about assuming things.”

“Pawn shops for coins, then.” Law rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m going to find some good grub.” Shachi rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Want to come with? Or have you decided this is going to be a day where you ignore your own advice and not eat?”

“You’re being rather annoying this morning,” Law quipped.

“Just worried about my cute junior,” Shachi cooed at him. Law rolled his eyes again. Shachi patted his back with one hard pat. “I’ll see you later, Captain. Enjoy your day.”

Law muttered his thanks before adjusting Kikoku. He watched Shachi walk off of the Tang for a moment before sighing and moving to leave the submarine himself.

Shachi was not wrong. Law planned on wandering the island and then probably going to look at coins. Simple pleasures, Law supposed. After a life of whatever in the hell his life has been,  it’s nice to have some form of hobby that doesn't involve violence or medical procedures…or both.

Law walked off the Tang and along the beach, watching the sea hit the shore. He watched a tiny crab scurry from the sand to the sea in some hurry that only crabs could be in. As he walked further down the beach he noticed that people were starting to appear. It looks like he made it to the public beach. Law made a disgusted face. He supposed it was time to look in the town, lest he be surrounded by a bunch of fun-goers.

Law made his way to the port town. Nothing special about it. He wondered if his trip would be fruitless. He might have gone to an island with no new books, no island-specific coffee, or worse, no new coins. He huffed. He wouldn’t know until he actually looked.

His shoes made a tapping noise as he walked on the stone ground. People walked past him, completely unaware of who he was. Or maybe they just really, really didn’t want to acknowledge who he was. Either way, Law didn’t care. He was on a mission. Buy stuff.

He walked past food stands and restaurants, not paying them any mind. He wasn’t in the mood for food, and no one seemed to be selling any quality coffee. He continued walking, looking for anything interesting. He caught sight of a bookstore. Finally. Maybe this place would hold his interest.

He adjusted Kikoku and walked towards the shop. He was almost smacked with the door when someone decided to exit at the time he tried to open it.

“Oh! Sorry!” The woman apologized.

“Whatever. It’s fine,” he grumbled.

He looked at the woman. Her light brown hair was in a braid. Her gold eyes met his and they stared at each other silently.

Of all the things that Law expected to find on this island, this was not one of them.

He stared at the ghost in front of him, not sure what to do. He swallowed bile in his throat, everything coming back to him at once. She looked like her. She looked like his mother. He took a deep breath and looked her over again. No, too much of his father. She looked like Lammy would have, had she had the chance to grow up.

“Law?” The woman spoke up and Law’s ears started to ring. It couldn’t be. “Law?” Her voice grew more anxious. “Is that you?” She knew him? Is that really her? He let out a shaky breath and felt himself reach towards her.

Law snapped back to reality and withdrew his hand. Of course she knew him. He was Trafalgar fucking Law, the Surgeon of Death. He looked at the woman’s face and noticed the tears running down her face.

“Law, it’s you isn’t it?”

“That’s not exactly a hard thing to figure out. I’m sure my bounty poster is everywhere.” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking.

“That’s not how I know you. That’s…” she trailed off. “You’re alive! You’re-”

“In the way,” a flat tone said from inside the building.

“Oh!” The woman said. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get out of the way.” The woman took Law’s arm and started to drag him away. Law was so stunned by the action that he didn’t fight back at first.

Once he realized what was happening he pulled his arm back swiftly. “I don’t know who you think you are but-”

She turned to look at him, tears still flowing down her cheeks. “You remember me don’t you? I’m Lammy. You’re my brother.”

Law felt nauseous again. “Lammy died,” he snapped. “She died in that fire.”

“I didn’t. Almost did, but I didn’t. I was saved.” Law eyed her, not believing a word she said, but as he did he noticed the all too familiar white splotches on her tan skin, just like him. Just like his splotches. But still - there’s no way she was saved. It was genocide. They set the hospital on fire on purpose. It was to kill everyone inside.

His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. He felt a cold sweat run down his face. Anxiety. PTSD. His vision was blurry for a moment until he felt a hand on his forehead.

“You’re hot,” she said. “Come on. I’ll take you to my flat.”

She started to drag him off again and this time he couldn’t find the strength to fight back. Before he knew it he was laying on a couch in a small apartment with a cold washcloth on his forehead.

He stared at the ceiling and then over to “Lammy,” who was reading a book in a chair across from him. He narrowed his eyes at her and felt himself become nauseous again. He felt hot, like a fire was lit under his feet. He smelled smoke and corpses. He swallowed down bile again. He needed to get out of here.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, not looking up from her book. “I know that look. That’s the “I’m going to run” look patients get.”

“What, are you a doctor?”

“Yep. It’s natural, isn’t it? I mean, Mom and Dad were.” Law sat up, the washcloth falling into his lap. He looked around the apartment. Not much to it, honestly. It looked very bare. “And you became a pirate captain, interestingly enough.”

“I’m still a doctor,” he said automatically, not thinking about it.

They stared at each other for a moment, scrutinizing and analyzing each other. Law realized how much this woman looked like his mother. It made him want to cry. An old buried ache in his heart that was long repressed.

“I can’t believe you still have the hat,” Lammy spoke up.

“My sister got it for me.”

Lammy smiled brightly. “Ah, I suppose that makes sense. I don’t have anything from that time.” She sighed and closed her book. “What’s with all the tattoos?”

“You did just state that I’m a pirate captain,” he said flatly.

Lammy chuckled. “Yeah. How exactly did that happen?”

Law narrowed his eyes and his skin prickled. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Ah, you still don’t believe that I am who I say I am.”

“You think I’m just going to believe anyone who says they’re my dead sister?”

“How many people know you have a dead sister?” She questioned.

Doflamingo, he thought to himself, very aware of the fact that this could easily be a trap and he was already shit out of luck. What an idiot he was! He was so easily taken away by some random woman because he had a little PTSD. He should be better than this. When was the last time he made a fool of himself like this?

“How about I tell you what happened?” Law didn’t answer so she took that as permission. “The hospital was set on fire and I was dying. Well, dying faster. I passed out from the smoke, knowing that I was about to die alone,” she frowned and rubbed her arms. “The next thing I knew I woke up in a bed by a window with a curtain blowing in the breeze. It smelled like honeysuckle. A nurse walked in the room and started taking care of me. I asked all the normal questions. “Where am I? Where was my family? What happened?” And the like. She didn’t answer any, she told me to wait for the doctor.” She went silent.

“And?” Law prompted.

Lammy blinked. “The doctor came to see me eventually. He told me someone had pulled me out of the hospital and took me to another town near the shore. The doctor had heard about Amber Lead and was trying to work with anyone who could help cure the poison. Turns out he was too late,” she said bitterly. “Everyone died.” Law didn’t say anything. “I was sick and dying. I couldn’t get out of bed and I barely had a voice due to all the smoke I inhaled. I felt like whatever had happened was just a bandaid on a bullethole. I was going to die. Amber Lead was going to kill me. And I was miserable. I endured too many surgeries when I was so young.” She sighed. “The doctor performed one last surgery and I was okay. I wasn’t dying anymore. Something about it being in my liver.” She shrugged

Law swallowed. “And after that?”

“I helped the doctor in whatever way I could for saving me, but over the course of the months I was there the Navy ran raids, looking for people from Flevance who may have escaped, and as you are well aware, the scars never faded.” Law looked at his hands and the white splotches on his skin. “So, I found my way off the island. I stowed away on a cargo ship, eating scraps and sharing space with rats. I hid pretty well for a recovering, sickly eight year old girl. I would stop at an island, stow away on another ship, and then do it all over again a few times until I found an island where I finally decided to stay. Found an orphanage. Stayed there. Went to school and got the best grades so I could do everything on scholarship. Became a doctor and found myself on this island. Uh, that’s it, I guess.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s not believable and sounds like any story book tragedy. I mean, why would anyone save me when they were killing everyone else and…”

Law tuned out her anxious rambling and stared at her quietly. He let out a breath, starting to become far too emotional for the cool and calm captain of the Heart Pirates. What if this wasn’t a trap? What if she was who she said she was? What if she really was Lammy? What if what if what if…

“If,” he spoke up and interrupted her. “If you’re really Lammy,” he continued slowly. “Tell me something I would only know.”

Lammy frowned. “Well, let me think that far back. It’s been years since we saw each other and I barely remember anything it was so long ago.” She tapped her fingers together. “Do you still collect coins? Do you collect the Sora comics? I remember us reading them together.” Law frowned and his bottom lip quivered a bit. “Uh, let’s see, you once got in trouble at school for bringing a frog to your class photo.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He breathed in through his nose. “Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

He wanted to. He so badly wanted to. “If I did, what would you do?”

“Uh, hug you, I guess.” She cleared her throat. “I heard about a Trafalgar Law becoming a pirate captain, but I thought “no way, that’s not my brother.” However…it is you and-”

“What’s my middle name?” He interrupted her.

“What?”

“What’s…our middle name?”

Lammy blinked. “Duh, I suppose that would’ve been the easiest way to figure it out. It’s “D.””

Law didn’t mean to make a tiny pained noise that came from deep within his throat, but he did. It was Lammy. Who else knew that secret information?

Lammy smiled softly. “Want that hug?”

“Shut the hell up,” he said, holding every emotion back and failing spectacularly at it.

Lammy walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Law immediately held onto her. Lammy was here. His baby sister was here and alive.

He blinked away tears to the best of his ability. He heard Lammy sniffle and his heart ached. He dreamed of this. He had prayed for this knowing that it would never be answered. Life was cruel and painful and yet she was here, crying with him.

They held onto each other crying, letting their pain out. Their hearts were bare for one another. Law had never felt this much joy and hurt at the same time. His head and heart were racing. He felt light headed and nauseous. Of all the things he ever counted on happening, this was one he knew was never going to happen.

After long minutes of crying like he hasn’t cried in years, they pulled out the wine. Lammy asked him what happened and he told her. He told her cautiously, but he told her. Of a twisted fate marked with pain and suffering. He told her how he escaped and of The Family. He told her about Cora-san. He told her about how he survived with his three companions for so long.

Lammy nodded. “A lot has happened to you,” she giggled after a moment. “And you became a criminal.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

She shrugged causally. “It’s your life, you did what you wanted so that’s what mattered. You’re happy now, yeah?”

Law took a sip from his wine. “Ish.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“What about you?”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be better.”  She paused. “Tell me about your adventures.”

Law raised a brow. “Why?”

“What do you mean “why?” Because I wanted to hear what’s out there!”

Law chuckled. “Okay, I’ll tell you some.”

Law told her about the many islands and adventures he had been on, leaving out the more…violent parts. He didn’t need his sister to know everything about being a pirate. She listened eagerly, her eyes wide like a child being told an exciting bedtime story. They finished the wine together and were laughing by the end of the bottle.

“That all sounds amazing!” She exclaimed. “I wish I could see the world like that.”

Law hesitated for a moment before swallowing. “You could come with me.”

“Huh?”

“You could come with me.”

“To be a pirate?” She squeaked. Lammy looked at him with wide eyes. “I-I don’t know. I mean, we’re together again after so long but…to become a pirate…”

Law frowned. “You’re right. Never mind. I don’t want to put you in harm's way. If you stay here, I know where you are and that you’ll be safe.”

Lammy sighed slowly and nodded. “Yeah.”

They went silent. Law looked out the tiny window. It was getting dark. It wouldn’t be out of the question for someone to spend the night somewhere and off the sub, but it didn’t feel right staying over. Yes, they were reunited, but they were still strangers. It had been over a decade since they saw each other, they had no idea who each other were anymore. In fact, Law was sure that if Lammy really got to know him, she’d turn him away.

Law placed his wine glass on the coffee table and stood up. “I should probably head back to my ship.”

“Already?” Lammy frowned sadly. “We just…” she trailed off. “I’ll walk you to your ship.”

“You want me to let my sister walk alone at night?”

“I’ve got tiny safety weapons,” she pouted. “Besides, this island is safe, there’s never any issues here.”

That she knew of. Law thought to himself. Who knows what the government and Navy could be covering up.

“No, Lammy. I want you to be safe at home.” He reached out and ruffled her hair. “I will write to you.”

He watched tears fall down her face. She stood up and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and frowned. He didn’t want to let her go again, but their lives were so different that he had to. He needed to let her live her own life and let himself live his own life.

Eventually they said their goodbyes and Law walked home alone. He was a mix of emotions that would certainly keep him up all night. He barely acknowledged anyone on the sub, stating he was tired and wanted to go to bed. He slinked into his room, placing Kikoku against the wall and throwing off his clothes. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, no longer willing to let his brain function for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~

“Where did you go yesterday? You disappeared.” Penguin asked Law early the next morning while they stood on deck.

“Nowhere,” Law grunted and sipped coffee.

“Okay. Why are we leaving so early?”

“Because I want to.”

“Okaaaay.” Penguin eyed him suspiciously.

Truth be told, he wasn’t wanting to stick around anymore. He didn’t want to leave Lammy, but he knew if he didn’t it would be harder to let her go. There was only so much heartbreak he could handle, and he’s had enough in his lifetime.

The crew was either coming back from a long night and/or getting ready to shove off. Law sipped his coffee and stared at the island. This was best. This was what was best for him and his heart.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He turned and leaned his back against the railing.

“Captain,” Bepo came up to him. “We’re ready.”

“Okay, let’s go and get ready to sub-”

“Waaaaaaiiiiiitttttttt!!!!” He heard a faint voice from behind him.

He and Bepo looked at each other confused before looking behind him.

A tiny figure was running towards the sub with a suitcase trailing behind them.

“Law!! Wait for me!!” They waved at him.

Law blinked. “Lammy?! What the hell are you doing?!” He called to her and ignored the various “Lammy?’s”  and other such things the nearby crew members muttered to each other.

Lammy didn’t answer, she kept running and dragging her suitcase behind her. She heaved and puffed when she made it to the side of the Tang.

“I’m,” she took a deep breath. “Wow, I am so out of shape. I’m coming with you.”

“…” Law stared at her wide eyed. “What?”

Lammy took a deep breath and walked up the ramp to the deck. She looked around the deck and then to him. “I’m coming with you, brother.”

“Uh, Captain?” Bepo said anxiously.

“Why?” Law asked. “Didn’t you say-”

“I know what I said but…but screw it! I want to be with my brother! It’s not fair that we went through everything we did but can’t actually be around each other because of silly rules like “pirates are criminals!” If I have to become a criminal to not be alone anymore, then I will!”

Law stared at her while everyone else stared at him. Law looked around and then back at Lammy. He snorted. “You know this means I’m your captain, right? You have to do what you’re told.”

“Oh…well, whatever! Who cares!” She grinned and rushed over to hug him.

Law wrapped his arms around her with a soft smile. There was various confused voices that surrounded him but he’ll answer them later. For right now…he’ll just let himself be happy with his sister.

[jawritter]

The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!! 

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general. 

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again. 

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well. 

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter,  a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died  and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose. 

At least he was creative? 

You and Dean  had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting. 

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out. 

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going  around in circles. 

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and  were pretty sure you were never going to find him. 

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later. 

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.” 

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done  as you were looking for Dean. 

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him. 

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding. 

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase. 

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit. 

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained  was just how much of the man was still inside the  monster. 

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of  beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold. 

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.” 

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong. 

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply. 

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it. 

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.” 

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth. 

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised  about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it? 

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.” 

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance. 

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight. 

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be  fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers. 

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.” 

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point  hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.” 

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs. 

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself. 

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​

[onthesandsofdreams]

Begin Anew

Fandom: Netflix’s Castlevania Pairing: Alucard x Reader  Rating: T Summary: And so, it began a routine. You and Alucard would share your meals, then go your separate ways. It was rare that you spent more time together, he’d been very clear on some rules: you’d always had to make some noise when approaching, or call out to him before. He never told you were he slept, he’d given you a room, but his was a mystery to you. But even with all that, you could see traces of the man Trevor and Sypha had spoken. Quiet, educated, well mannered and mostly polite – he had hissed at you once, after you took him by surprise one day in the kitchen. And he was oh so handsome. His eyes were like amber, hair like spun gold and his elegant features made him all the more appealing in your eyes. He was tall too, strong and brave. And you fell in love with him. Words: 1527 Notes: Written for Fictober-Event, prompts #26. “how about you trust me for once?” & 31.“I trust you”

Read @ AO3

The past months had been hell. Almost literally.

First, you had joined Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades in their quest to kill monsters. You had an advantage that was very welcomed, you were a witch. Which meant that you and Sypha would spend some time debating the difference between you both. But in the end, you didn’t want to continue the fight, it wasn’t because you couldn’t, but simply because you didn’t had the temperament for it. You wanted to heal, not kill.

And so it was, that you made your way to where Trevor said was his old homestead. Sypha had written a letter and both of them had signed it, a way, they said, to make sure that Alucard would know that they had sent you. And that had been that.

Alucard, of course, had not been happy. His reception of you had been chilly. Near paranoid and you knew better than to ask about the two corpses at the front door. Being half a vampire, you’d expect that it would come with enemies and people actively trying to kill him. So, you let it go, as much as it made you uncomfortable, you knew that you shouldn’t be pushing for answers. Not yet, at least.

It was Alucard who did the hunting and made food and then, he’d disappeared into the castle. It was rare that he spent time with you. Most of your conversations occurred over food.

“And what exactly,” he’d asked, “is that you want to do.”

“Heal.” You said without hesitation. “I already have some training, I studied healing with plants. But Trevor said that your father kept a library that could be useful for me.”

Alucard had given you an odd look. One that you did your best not to flinch from, it was, as if he were trying to look deep into your mind and soul. He nodded once, lifted his fork and said, “That is true, I will take you there, so you know where it is.” And then, he spoke no more.

“Thank you. I’ll appreciate that.”

The rest of the meal transpired in silence. You didn’t mind, it had given you the opportunity to study Alucard. He seemed so… different from what Trevor and Sypha had spoken. The man in front of you was near paranoid. He was cold, far more detached than what you had expected. You sighed and finished your meal.

True to his word, Alucard had show you the library and then left. You thanked him, even if he was already far away enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear it. And then, you did what you wanted to do, dive right in into the books.

And so, it began a routine. You and Alucard would share your meals, then go your separate ways. It was rare that you spent more time together, he’d been very clear on some rules: you’d always had to make some noise when approaching, or call out to him before. He never told you were he slept, he’d given you a room, but his was a mystery to you.

But even with all that, you could see traces of the man Trevor and Sypha had spoken. Quiet, educated, well mannered and mostly polite – he had hissed at you once, after you took him by surprise one day in the kitchen. And he was oh so handsome. His eyes were like amber, hair like spun gold and his elegant features made him all the more appealing in your eyes. He was tall too, strong and brave.

And you fell in love with him.

Unfortunately, you knew that you had an uphill battle. It had been several months in, when you finally managed to get him to spend some time with him. You’d sit in one of the rooms, fire roaring and playing chess (he’d agreed to teach you), drinking wine and sometimes, talking.

It took him four months after that to speak of his near death. Of that betrayal that had left a deep scar on him. You had done your best to control your reactions, truth be told, you wanted to vomit. It’s one thing to face an enemy upfront, but wait until one of his most vulnerable moments to strike? You couldn’t wrap your mind around that. You were pretty sure the horror at the actions of those two were shown in your face. Alucard had looked away, ended the chess match and left without giving you a chance to speak.

It took you a while to get your bearings, but when you did, Alucard was gone and there was no trace of him. With a deep sense of defeat, you headed back to your room to try and make sense of everything. No wonder Alucard didn’t trust you. No wonder he’d asked you to announce yourself and more importantly, never telling you were his room was. You couldn’t blame him at all. And your heart ached for him. It’s been very clear for you that he was lonely, that he missed company, that he missed Trevor and Sypha.

You slumped in your bed, trying to think of something to do to help him. To make him see that you were not like them. But were completely unsure of how to proceed. That night, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Alucard avoided you for a week after that. The only trace of his presence was in the food and dirty dishes. And you were at your wits end. It would not do, so you decided to do the only thing that came to mind, stalk the kitchen.

You didn’t beat him for breakfast, but you did for the meal. There was some left over rabbit stew that you decided to reheat, and opted to make bread with herbs to go with it. Your concentration was broken by footsteps and Alucard’s voice saying, “What are you doing?”

“Making bread.” As if that weren’t obvious enough.

“I can see that, but I told you. I take care of the food.” Alucard walked into the kitchen, still keeping a safe distance between the two of you.

Your hands shook at his tone, and you couldn’t help the bitterness that tainted your voice when you said, “How about you trust me for once?”

Silence.

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry. You were in love with that man, and he didn’t trust you. Perhaps he never would, all because of them. You cursed them, and while you weren’t a vindictive person, you hope they were in the darkest pits of hell.

“I am not going to poison the food,” you managed to get out, your voice breaking. “I’m going to eat it too.”

A sigh. “I know. And for what’s worth, I trust you.”

Your head snapped up, tears blurring your vision. “Then why…?”

“Because I am afraid.”

Well now, that made terrible sense. It gnawed at you, you had not given him any reason. “I – I have not given you any reason to be afraid of me.” You choked out. “I don’t want to kill you. I’m not a killer, that’s why I didn’t follow Trevor and Sypha. Even those creatures, killing didn’t appeal to me. I am a healer, Alucard. I’m not one who wants to take life. I want to cure it, make it better.” You hated that you were crying now.

Alucard said nothing for what it felt the longest time. Then he bowed his head and sighed, “Because you remind me of my mother.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “She came here, looking for knowledge, wanting to heal and… she died because of it. You are an actual witch, a healer yes, but a witch, can you see how that would give me pause of repeating the past?”

You hated that he was making sense, Trevor had warned you about the fate of Alucard’s mother. “I am not her and you are not your father.” You managed to get out, then dried your tears and wiped at your eyes, bread forgotten momentarily. “I – well, I care for you.” I love you, you didn’t say, even if you wanted to. It was not the time. “And it hurts that you keep such a distance.”

“For your safety.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Alucard smiled, “I know. But still.”

“Can we at least, try and be better friends?”

Alucard blinked, then, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Friends? Yes, I suppose I could use of of those.”

You could use several, you though. “Me too, it’s been lonely. Can’t we try again, from the beginning?”

Alucard approached you then. Set what he’d brought into the table, then, extended his hands. “Well miss, I am Adrian Tepes, nice to meet you.”

You smiled softly. “Hello Adrian, it’s very lovely to meet you, I am Y/n. Thank you for letting me live here, I’m making herb bread. Sounds good?”

“You’re welcome, and yes, the bread does sound good.”

It may not be what you were hoping for, but it was a start. After all, hope springs eternal.

[subarublue]

Nice Guys Finish Last

One Shot

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Not specified

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dante x Female Reader

Word Count: 2027

Read on Ao3

Summary: After a hard week at work, a weekend at Dante’s is just what the doctor ordered, especially when a snow storm blows into town. Unfortunately for you, Dante is...well, Dante.

Notes: Just a cute little one shot. Slight bit of a dirty joke at the end.

You hurried down the street, your destination in sight. The bright neon sign of Devil May Cry should have been visible since the snow that was falling around you was light and gentle, but it wasn’t. In fact, the closer you got it seemed that no lights were on in the building. Was Dante even home? He’d said he would be when he stopped by your work earlier to see you, but for all you knew he could have gotten a call and gone out on a job. Though normally, he was pretty good at notifying you if that was the case when you were planning on spending the night.

Knowing the door would be unlocked regardless, and that you could just wait for him inside where it was nice and warm, you trudged through the snow as quickly as you could. You tried to pull your jacket tighter around you to ward off the frigid air, but to no avail. You’d not been prepared for the quick turn the weather had taken and your apparel, jacket included, was not up to par to deal with it in the slightest.

The weatherman had said it was going to be cold. Like dude, really? Cold did not cover this. It was freezing outside. Cows were giving ice cream instead of milk. People with heartburn everywhere were cured. Fucking snowmen were gaining sentience so they could migrate south.

You groaned in annoyance. This past week at your work had been hell; so much so that you didn’t even want to think about work for the rest of the weekend. Which is why you were currently planning on spending said weekend wrapped up in the warm arms of your boyfriend. But to top it all off, this sudden snow storm had decided to blow into town a little earlier than anticipated, leaving you to practically freeze to death on the long walk to his shop.

Gotta keep moving.

As you hurried on, you caught glimpses of the puffs of your breaths, clearly visible, reminding you of just how damn cold it was. You tried to forget about it by thinking of the warm things that awaited you just a block away; the heat of the shop itself, a cup of hot chocolate, the hot shower Dante would let you take, his warm bed, Dante himself...

You let out a frustrated whine when you realized it wasn’t working because your teeth were now chattering. God, you were so cold. Thankfully though, you’d finally reached the steps of the shop. You heaved a great sigh of relief and grabbed the door handle, anticipation of the warm temperature just on the other side making you giddy.

You threw the door open (probably a bit more enthusiastically than necessary, if you were honest) and stepped across the threshold of Dante’s beloved home into the comforting and welcoming feeling of...

MORE COLD!?

Immediately upon feeling the frigid temperature of the front office area, you tried to hug your coat around you even tighter. It’s colder in here than it is outside! That thought was probably not quite true, but your brain was too frozen to be concerned about little details like that.

A quick glance around the front office area would normally have shown you whether or not Dante was around, but it was well past dark outside and no lights were on so you could barely see anything, much less your boyfriend. You turned to flick the overhead light on...only to stare dumbly at the little switch when it did nothing. Your face quickly morphed into an expression of annoyance, the reason for the lack of heat in the building now obvious: Dante hadn’t paid his utility bill like he’d said he was going to.

You knew it had been overdue...again, but you really didn’t have the energy to be pedantic about the number of times it had happened previously. He’d already been getting final warning notices from the utility office stating to pay his bill by a certain date or else. He’d said he would be able to pay it after some job he was taking earlier in the week. Obviously, that had fallen through.

You tried to look on the bright side of things (the bright, warm side where you really wished you were right now). At least this meant that he likely wasn’t gone like you’d originally thought might be the case.

“D-D-Dante?” Your teeth were chattering so much you could barely speak as you stepped further into the office in search of the resident devil hunter.

His reply was immediate; a quick, “Just a sec!” from the kitchen in the back. You could still see your breath puffing out from your mouth (even though you were now inside) and you couldn’t help the despondent groan that let out the biggest puff of all, as if to mock you.

Dante chose that moment to appear in the doorway of his kitchen, holding something you couldn’t really see well with the lack of light. You could at least see him somewhat, and he suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh at the sight you must have made, wrapped up in a coat not meant for snowy weather and shivering like a leaf. You simply glared at him as best you could, given your current state. You were in no mood to put up with his antics at the moment, especially since it seemed he was completely unaffected by the biting temperature. He was only in his usual getup of boots, pants, shirt, and his signature red jacket and yet he looked as if the temperature was a moderate seventy two degrees. Being half-devil certainly had its perks. This only served to worsen your mood, of course.

He’d barely managed to stifle his laughter before speaking up, “You alright there, babe? You look like you’re about to give me the...cold shoulder.” He was grinning as he said this. You of course, were not, as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you opted for yelling at him.

“Dante! What the hell!? You said you were gonna pay your bill!” The frozen feeling in your body was temporarily forgotten in your anger. You watched as a sheepish look crossed his face as he brought his free hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, about that...”

“What. About. It.” you spoke through clenched teeth. Partly because of your anger, but also because you were having to clench them together in order to keep the chattering at bay because unfortunately, your anger wasn’t enough to keep you numb to the cold for long. The feeling was already back, full force.

“Remember that job I told you about?” When you nodded stiffly he continued, “Well, the client didn’t end up being able to pay me, so...yeah.” At least now he had the decency to look a bit guilty at your discomfort.

You eyed him suspiciously. You knew he was notorious for not charging for his services at all if clients had trouble paying him. You figured that was most likely the case in this instance as well and you decided to call him on it.

“Couldn’t pay? Or you didn’t make them?” You gave him a look that conveyed you were not in the mood for any bullshit. You were a little surprised though, when he gave a rather dejected sigh, suddenly turning serious.

“I wasn’t gonna charge a single mom trying to raise three kids on her own ‘cause their dad’s a deadbeat,” he said simply.

You felt frozen solid by this point, but that melted your heart a little bit. Okay, well maybe a lot. Dante really was an all-around nice guy. You knew he had a soft spot especially for mothers in situations like that, considering what had happened to his own mother when he was young. Now you could no longer find it in you to be mad at him for his utility problem.

Instead, you gave a wry laugh and shook your head at him. “You’re way too nice, Dante.” He simply shrugged at that, but you were smiling now, despite the constant shivering.

“What can I say? I’m just a nice guy.” He was approaching you, holding his hand out, and you finally took notice of what he held in it. It was one of the mugs from his kitchen (your favorite one to be exact) and there was some steam wafting from the contents inside. You immediately perked up as he offered it to you.

It turned out to be that cup of hot chocolate you’d been thinking about on your way over. You decided not to wonder about how he’d made it without electricity as you took the mug gratefully. The heat from the sweet liquid warmed your hands through the ceramic as you held it.

“Luckily, that’s one of the reasons I love you.” You took a sip, sighing as you felt the hot liquid flowing through you, starting to warm you up. Then, you gave him a coy smile. “But that’s not enough to make me stay in this freezer you call a shop tonight.”

“Aww, come on, babe! It’s not that bad! Besides, I’m here to warm you up.” He was giving you that sly grin of his, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes again. That wasn’t about to change your mind, regardless of how tempting it was.

“You can still warm me up. It’ll just have to be back at my place, where there’s heat...and working lights...and a working stove, and-“

“Alright, alright! I get it!” He held up his hands in mock surrender. Now it was your turn to grin slyly at him, having won. “You’re place is cleaner, anyway,” he added, as if it was something that mattered to him. Which you knew it didn’t.

“Well come on, then. If we stand around here any longer, you’ll have an ice statue to decorate your office with instead of a girlfriend,” you joked as you turned to head back out the door. You grimaced a little at the thought of the long, cold walk back to your place. At least you had a hot drink for the trip.

“You know, that wouldn’t be bad,” you gave him an incredulous look at that and for the third time, almost rolled your eyes at him. But Dante hadn’t missed the grimace on your face before he’d made his teasing comment. You suddenly found yourself enveloped in another layer of warmth as his jacket (which you almost never saw him without) came around your shoulders. “But I think I much prefer having a girlfriend that lets me eat pizza whenever I want without lecturing me on how unhealthy it is.” He was smiling warmly at you and it was almost enough to chase all the cold away.

“Guess I’m the lucky one, then. You know, since you’re so nice,” you said it playfully, but you meant every word as you gestured to his coat that he’d lent you. It dwarfed you a bit, since he was so much taller than you, and you had to gather it up a bit in your free hand to make sure it didn’t drag as you started the trek to your place.

“That you are, sweetheart.”

You swore his ego would be the death of you. Thinking to bring him down a couple notches, you goaded him a bit, “You know what they say, right? Nice guys finish last.” You grinned cheekily at him.

He turned to face you as you walked along. It was still snowing, and you wondered briefly if you could convince him to trigger and fly you all the way home so you wouldn’t have to walk in the cold anymore. The smirk on his face had you momentarily distracted, though.

“Babe, nice guys only finish last-” he was shooting finger guns at you now, “-because we make sure our women finish first.” He punctuated his statement with wink.

You did roll your eyes at that.

[julia-highstorms]

Last Night on Earth (Bryce x Rei (F!MC))

Summary: Infected by an unknown poison, Rei spends what could be her last night on earth with her most important person.

Author’s note: Open Heart is back which means BRYCE IS BACK and omg the angst in chapter 11 was on spot. As usual, I wanted to give a bit of more depth between Bryce and Rei’s relationship. Read more about them here

Song: Last Night On Earth - Green Day

Disclaimer: Characters and some dialogues belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Rei Sato (F!MC)

Word count: +2.8K

________________________________________

Rei left out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she watched Ethan and June wheeling Rafael out through the decontamination room and down the hallway, solitary figures in a labyrinth of plastic. She had the sensation that her mentor took one last worried look over his shoulder to where she was. 

The silence that fell over was deafening, the pressure in her head felt too much. Now, all alone, she felt like she was the last person on Earth. She curled up on her bed and the tears came hard. She let them fall, hiding her face behind her hands, her frail and weak body quivering to the intensity of her weeping.

She cried for Danny, for Bobby, mourning the loss of those two souls. She cried for Rafael, scared of what could happen to him overnight. She cried for Kyra, fighting for her life at the O.R. She cried for herself. She felt scared of what fate had in store for her.

Working with medicine, she had to learn to endure that sometimes they were unable to save everyone. Death was part of life and a hospital staff dealt with it more often than most people would.

But she was scared either way. She was terrified. The feelings were overwhelming. Mourning, loneliness, anger, regret, helplessness, fear.

________________________________________

What it seemed to be much later, her friends and the diagnostics team arrived outside the window to her room. She felt tired, her eyes dry and puffy from crying so much.

She noticed Bryce standing behind Baz, staring at her with haunted eyes.

“How’s Kyra? The surgery must be over now…” “She’s fine. She’s resting. She, uh… we haven’t told her what’s happening with you yet.” - Rei nodded.

“Good idea.”

Sienna sniffed and buried her face in Jackie’s shoulder. The diagnostics team informed her that she had maitotoxin.

There was no cure for maitotoxin.

...She was going to die there.

Rei felt a wave of emotions all over again, feeling more helpless than she had ever felt. That was going to be her last night on earth.

Ethan told her to not give up yet. That was something so typical of her mentor to say and something she would usually be thankful for. If it hadn’t been for his tough love, she wouldn’t be the doctor she was today.

But today, right now, she wasn’t a doctor. She was just a dying being. He assured her that they’d synthesize an antidote overnight. Usually, she would believe and put faith in him. She trusted in Ethan Ramsey, and in June and Baz.

But that night she wasn’t feeling much hopeful. Even though Aurora came in with a group of doctors from Mass Kenmore. Even though Carrick affirmed that she wouldn’t die on their watch. Rei felt that she was already far from being saved.

Everyone said their goodbyes and followed June and Baz to the lab. Ethan stayed behind for a moment more, his pale blue eyes fixed on his favorite mentee, on the woman he was secretly in love, his face wrinkled with worry and something else. Fear. Regret. Longing.

“It isn’t over yet, Rookie.” - he said, and she smiled weakly at the nickname. - “You should try and get some rest.”

“What, are you my doctor now?” - she snapped back at him, good humouredly.

“Yes. I’m telling you as a doctor and...” - he hesitated, as if he tried to carefully choose his next words.

The head of the diagnostics team reminisced about the talk he had with Sienna on their way to a FBI field office earlier, where he confessed he had rather unprofessional feelings for Rei. But he didn’t tell Sienna the complete truth: although he had never really confessed to her, Rei knew about his feelings for her. At least, back then when she still was an intern. And Ethan was more than aware that her feelings for him weren’t mutual. She had rejected him. And he still pinned for her either way. And she could possibly die soon. Real soon.

He thought about throwing everything to the ceiling and fully confessing to her. How he still loved her. That might be his last chance.

...But that wouldn’t be fair. To Rei. A love confession from her boss and mentor was the least thing she needed right now. And it would be unfair to Dr. Lahela too. Whatever was the nature of their relationship, it was clear that Rei loved that scalpel jockey. And that, this time, the feelings were mutual.

The young surgeon was a few feet away, leaning against the wall, his hands buried inside his pockets, staring down at his feet, patiently waiting for his turn to talk to Rei. And Ethan was sure that he would possibly spend the rest of his night keeping her company. That was something she would want. 

“...as your friend.” - he finished his thought.

Rei nodded, smiling gratefully at Ethan, unaware of the storm of emotions he had inside him, and he left. 

She heard him exchanging a few words with someone who was behind the wall. Bryce came into view as he stepped to the side, lingering by the window. He forced a smile.

“It’s all gonna be okay, Rei. I promise. You heard Dr. Ramsey, they’re going to find a cure.”

“Bryce, you don’t have to pretend to be positive for my sake.”

The smile left his face.

“...I’m not. It’s for my sake. If I don’t stay optimistic, I’m gonna lose it. I can’t let myself do that. Not yet. Not while there’s still hope.”

“Okay. Whatever helps.” - she murmured, resting her head back into her pillow on her back. - “What did Ethan tell you?” “He asked me to take care of you.” - he frowned. - “You should try and sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t know if I can. I keep thinking about Raf… wondering how long he can hang on…”

Bryce looked down to his side, to the spare hazmat suit nearby, his brain working.

“...What if I stayed with you for a while? Would that help? There’s another hazmat suit out there.” - he smiled warmly at her. - “You know us scalpel jockeys. We’re beyond useless in the lab, anyway.”

That proposal seemed to bring a bit of life back into Rei, her eyes shining.

“Are you sure? What about Keiki? Will she be okay?”

“Keiki is a teenager, Rei, not a baby. She can take care of herself for a night. Besides, she forbade me of going home with you like this.” “Did you tell her…?” 

“Yeah. I said I’d be up late here. She told me to stay here with you. Keiki’s your number #1 fan, Rei.”

Rei chuckled softly and agreed on Bryce staying with her that night. A few minutes later, she heard the decontamination tent activating, and he entered her room.

“What do you think? Am I still handsome? Or am I somehow more handsome? Be honest.”

She laughed as Bryce strutted through the door in his bulky hazmat suit.

“It’s your best look yet. You should rock this every day.”

“Don’t tempt me, Rei.”

“I can’t believe you actually came in here.” - her voice dropped to a murmur.

“If I’m gonna be here for you, I’m gonna be here for you.” - he walked to her bed, standing up beside it and took her hand, squeezing it gently, as if to prove he was not a dream.

“I’m glad. I’m not doing so well in here on my own.”

“Not true, Rei. You’ve been incredible today.” “I haven't done anything but watch two good men die.”

He suddenly enveloped her in his arms. It was a good hug, even through the thick plastic suit.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” - he whispered into her ear and then Rei felt the tears back into her eyes.

She weakly circled her arms around him and sobbed. She looked so fragile.

“Bryce, I-- I’m scared.” - she confessed, hiding her face on his chest. He let her weep, his hands rubbing up and down her back in a comforting movement, saying nothing.

She was scared of not waking up in the morning. Of not being able to spend one more night at Donahue's with her friends. Of not knowing if Kyra had made it all after her surgery. Of not being able to see Bryce's smile ever again, or to feel his touch. She was scared that the last news their family would have of her was about her death.

“I know it wasn't my fault that this happened… but I still feel so full of regret. This might be last night on earth…”

“Hey, none of that. You need to stay positive.”

She brushed away her tears.

“Oh? Any suggestions on how to manage that?”

“I think we already established how incredible I look in this.” - he tried to give her a confident smirk. Rei smiled ruefully, her eyes red due to her crying.

“That’s… not quite doing it for me.”

“Fair. Then let’s focus on all the positive in you. What are you most proud of? What makes you happiest?”

“I definitely am most proud of my job.”

“As you should be. You’re a fantastic doctor, Dr. Sato.”

“And of working in the diagnostics team, although at first I didn’t intend to be part of it when we were interns.”

“I remember all the drama.” - it was almost funny how it seemed pettiless compared to what was happening now.

“And about what makes me the happiest… probably… You.” - she confessed, her cheeks blushing slightly.

“Now there’s a pleasant plot twist.” - Bryce grinned.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not special, but I’m a lot of people’s reason for living.”

“You asked for my favorite thing, not my reason for living.” - she pointed out, smiling back at him. - “In light of the new framing, I’m changing my answer to ‘pictures of baby animals’.” - he laughed.

“That’s actually fair. I’ll allow it.”

They grinned at each other and, even filtered by the mask, the beauty of Bryce’s smile could still almost blow Rei away.

“Gosh, you’re pretty.” - she murmured, adoration in her eyes. But to her surprise, his smile faded. - “Bryce? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just… Rei, I really am trying to stay positive. We both have to. But…” - he hesitated.

“But what?”

The truth was that Bryce was desperately trying to keep his cool. He somehow managed to do it at the operating room, but now, seeing Rei so terrified, feeling so helpless…

And even though she was the one in that situation, unsure of her fate, Rei Sato still was able to comfort him. To check on him, to make him feel like the most amazing person in the whole world.

He loved her.

He felt his heart clutching inside his chest and out of breath, a lump in his throat.

“You mean a lot to me, Rei. More than you know, probably. The idea of losing you…” - he trailed off, shaking his head ruefully, unable to finish his sentence.

Rei could see a sadness in his eyes as he gazed back up at her, but also something more… that something that made her heartbeat speed up.

“Bryce, you mean a lot to me too. As a friend, and as more…” - she murmured, her cheeks turning a bit redder and less pale.

“Yeah?” - he asked, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“Yeah. I don’t know what waits for me tomorrow… Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll get a tomorrow. But if tonight’s my last night on earth, then you’re the one I want to spend it with.”

“Well, damn, Rei. Talk about bittersweet.” - he smiled, his eyes glistening with the tears that threatened to fall.

“Let’s focus on the sweet part.”

She gently took his gloved hands and led him to the bed, too small for them both, especially with his suit, but they didn't care.

"Would you hold me?"

"I'd love to, Rei." - he curled around her, spooning her tightly from behind. She always felt safe whenever she was in his arms.

"I wish I could feel your skin."

"You will."

"I wish I could kiss you."

"Sorry, was I mumbling? You will, Rei. You're going to get through this." 

"It's nice."

"What?"

"Hearing a doctor tell you this. It almost makes you believe that it will really be okay." - Rei swallowed another fresh wave of fear.

"What is it?" - his voice sounded worried.

She turned to face him, the tears welling up on her eyes again.

"What if the inside of this hospital room is the last place I see? What if…"

"Hey, don't go there." - he said, brushing off the hair out of her face. She took a deep breath.

"I need a kiss." - he smiled, amused by her request.

"How do you want to manage that one?"

"With a lot of imagination, I guess?"

Smiling softly, he lifted her fingertips in his hand, bending over them to 'kiss' her through the mask. Rei couldn't feel the softness of his lips, but a tingle of warmth shot through her nonetheless.

"How was that?"

"Better than I expected, honestly."

"Good."

His arms tightened around her. She laid still, enjoying the strength of his embrace until, at last, sleep clouded the edges of her mind.

"I'm glad I at least got to hold you one last time…"

"It's not the last time, Rei. I promised." - she heard Bryce say as she drifted off to a restless sleep.

________________________________________

The hours passed slowly, but Bryce didn't dare to close his eyes, afraid of losing her. Rei's weak breathing was the only sound in the room. Her body would squirm occasionally and low whimpers would escape her lips as the pain would hit her. He would brush off a strand of hair away from her face, her skin feeling both clammy and cold through his glove.

Much later, when the sun was already up the next morning, Bryce still found himself with Rei. He was now in the chair right next to her bed.

She woke suddenly to a stabbing pain in her midsection. She clutched her stomach, gasping at the intensity.

"It's okay, Rei. You're okay." - he rubbed her back soothingly, his voice comforting.

She gave in, riding the wave of pain until it passed. When it was over, she lied back down the bed, feeling weaker than ever, breathing hard. She gazed listlessly at the window just as her friends hurried up.

"Rei! We did it!" - she heard Aurora's voice and blinked at the blurry shapes of people in the window.

"Huh?"

"Seriously? You guys found an antidote?" - Bryce asked, immediately standing up.

"Something like that." - Carrick smirked confidently. 

Rei took a shuddering breath, trying not to hope too hard. Ethan, June and Baz came swimming into focus as they entered her room. They looked exhausted, but there was a glint of hope in their eyes.

"How?"

Ethan explained, a smile on his tired face. They hoped it would keep the maitotoxin from progressing any further. They had already administered it to Rafael, but there hadn't been any change of his condition so far, neither for worse nor better. 

Well, it was better than nothing. It was the only shot she had anyway.

"Give me your arm, Rei." - she presented her arm, barely able to hold it up. Bryce promptly cradled her, holding her arm still as Ethan prepared the injection. - "Ready?"

She smiled back at him.

"Ready."

He smoothly inserted the needle into her vein and dispensed the serum.

"And now we wait… and hope." - June concluded.

________________________________________

The next several hours passed in a slow, anxious crawl. Bryce had to go back to work, as well as all of her friends. Every hour, June would come by to test Rei's blood.

Slowly, her blood pressure started to stabilize. Eventually, the nausea receded. The world swimmed back into shaper focus, until…

"It worked!" - Bryce announced, loud and clear.

"Seriously? I'm cured?"

The young surgeon strode through the decontamination tent on his scrubs, with a megawatt smile that told her everything she needed to know.

"I told you it was going to be okay. I told you-- Unf!" - she printed across the room and into his arms so hard it nearly bowled him over. - "Couldn't you wait for me to cross the room, huh?" - he asked, looking down at her, enjoying the sensation of her arms hugging him tightly, her body against his.

She shook her head, a broad smile on her lips, her dark eyes shining with happiness, full of life.

"Nope."

Rei grabbed the front of his scrubs and pulled him into a dizzyingly deep kiss. Bryce immediately responded, kissing her back as if there was no tomorrow. But today was tomorrow.

"Thank you." 

"For what?"

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, both of them savouring the warmth and solidity of each other's body.

"For being alive." - he whispered, leaning down to kiss her temple.

Rei laughed, happy and feeling more alive than ever, and they held each other for a moment more. 

________________________________________

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @pixelburied @nyastarlight @endlessflame @awkwardalbatros @choicesarehard @strangelycami @stillafictosexual @queen-kass-the-writer @indiacater @worldofchoices @radlovedreamer @fairydustandsarcasm @choicesthot @blackreddish @lilyofchoices @fluffywhitehair @weaving-in-words @eileendannie @hellooliviaolivia @professorortegasstudent @bucket-harrington @god-save-the-keen @choices97 @camcantarella @sawyer0akleyscowboyhat @thequeenchoices @hellomynameisdevi @dreaming-of-movies @maria-lahela @zodiacsign1 @omgjasminesimone @miss-raleigh-carrera @lahellacute @soft-for-drake @raleighcarrera @simsvetements @wolverinesbeer @virtuallytakenby @anotherbeingsworld @teenytinytanya08 @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @sitsoncornflake @jamesashtonisbae @lxdy-starfury @choicesficwriterscreations (if you would like to be tagged in upcoming Bryce x MC fanfics, tell me!)

[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Devil’s In The Details

All work and no play makes Dante a dull devil. But he soon finds a cure for his boredom when a smokin' hot detective comes a-knockin' on his door.

The title and overall feel of this chapter is inspired by the song "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins.

Chapter 3: Never Met A Girl Like You

You look up Dante’s profile as soon as you get back to your desk. The Lieutenant was not exaggerating that this man’s file is incredibly long; it almost reads like a fictional novel filled with colorful characters and bloody descriptions. Unfortunately, all these reports are real and if any of what you read is remotely true, then you really have your work cut out for you this time.

It all starts with the infamous demon attack on Sparda Manor, which is common knowledge to most locals nowadays. The only body found in the rubble of their burnt down home was Eva Sparda, the matriarch of the family, and the rest of the family was pronounced dead soon after the incident. You narrow your eyes at that little detail…it’s rather strange that they just jumped to that conclusion even though there isn’t enough sufficient evidence to back up the claim.

The next notable part of the profile is all about the escapades of Tony Redgrave. You resist the urge to facepalm yourself while reading about all the events that occurred under his on the nose alias. It all seems to be standard fare on par with mercenary work, so you skip ahead a little until hitting another infamous incident involving some crazy ass tower…a lot of information about what happened has been redacted except that the Son of Sparda was definitely involved as well as an associate only known as Lady.

You read ahead again and raise an eyebrow at the strange report about a beautiful woman smashing through his shop while riding a motorcycle. This mysterious woman is later confirmed to be another associate known as Trish. Then it seems he left to do some outside work, so there isn’t much details except for a few witness statements here and there. The most noteworthy detail is the sudden appearance of a young man bearing a striking resemblance to the white-haired mercenary known as Nero.

A memory flashes before your mind at the name. You’ve seen this young man before; it was during the Red Grave incident involving the demon tree. You did not get the chance to speak with him…all you can remember is nodding to a young man with short white while leading a group of citizens caught in the demonic fray to safety. And speaking of that debacle, you skim through the reports about Dante’s role in that devastating event, which again seems to be scarce except that he was definitely hired to take care of whatever or whoever planted that freaky ass tree.

From what you can glean from the extensive damage reports, complaints about disturbing the peace, and the high rate of death and destruction…it paints Dante as a womanizing playboy who shows no concern for the wellbeing of others, which makes him a highly dangerous individual. Your fingers tap on your desk as you carefully sift through the information you have just gathered, noting that some of the reports have a healthy dose of prejudice attached to them. A good detective knows that preconceptions should never be taken at face value when searching for the truth. So, perhaps he’s more of a flirty troublemaker with a pension for hunting demons, which has earned him quite the reputation among mercenaries and police alike. You lean back in your chair and mentally weigh the risks of seeking out this infamous devil hunter in hopes of ridding the city of another demonic threat.

The soft chiming of your phone breaks you away from your deep contemplation. You pull it out your pocket and shuffle through a series of texts from Carmen. A couple of them are pictures of the victim’s garage, specifically a set of golf clubs found in the corner. She goes on to explain that this could be the murder weapon, but she will have to run some tests to confirm her suspicions. You take out your sketchbook and update the depiction of the crime scene with a drawing of a golf club with a question mark beside it. The other texts inform you about the safe key and missing dog. Carmen didn’t find any kind of safe or lock box that goes with the key, so she’s just adding it with the rest of evidence for further investigation. And there is still no sign of the family dog either.

No surprise there, you thought while texting her back about your heated argument with the Lieutenant and your plan of seeking outside assistance from a demon hunter. You also let her know that Graves is fine, just shaken up from the missing body that could very well be the zombie bride she gushed about earlier. While waiting for her response, you check your email for the record of medical examiners that Graves sent, and you file a report about the missing body from the morgue.  

After completing those tasks, you decide to grab a quick breakfast and do some more investigating before setting out to find the Legendary Devil Hunter. You collect your sketchbook and grab another cup of coffee on the way out, gulping it all down in a few long sips while you walk through the station. Your phone chimes multiple times as you approach the exit, but you withhold from checking it as you slip past a slew of reporters standing outside the station. All of them are none the wiser as you gear up for a long ride before hopping on your motorcycle.

You rev the engine a couple of times before zooming out of the parking lot with a loud roar, hoping that you can make it to Devil May Cry before closing time.  

(A few hours later…)

Another day spent doing absolutely nothing, Dante thought drolly as he rereads yet another dirty magazine while rock music blares from the jukebox.

It’s late afternoon and there is still no sign of Morrison. The phone rang a few times, but none of the callers gave a password. Dante knew that business has been slow recently, but he’s going to die of sheer boredom at this rate! He leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, not really ogling the half-naked ladies in the magazine as his mind wanders through less vulgar musings.

Dante’s life has taken one hell of a U-turn for the better ever since getting back from hell with his brother in tow and having a very awkward but needed conversation with Nero. Just the fact that he even has a nephew still makes him shake his head in wonder, and having Vergil back to being his old cranky self…it all seems too good to be true. But a few pinches every now and then, as well as some stabs from his dear brother, knocks some sense back into him and erases all doubt from his mind.

Dante has never felt more alive now that he has finally found his family. And it would truly be a shame if this tedious dry spell takes him out before he gets the chance to really enjoy it. Morrison better bring the cure to my boredom before I find it myself, he thought, absentmindedly turning a page while letting out a huge yawn.  

A loud knocking echoes throughout the shop. Dante glances up from his magazine towards the entrance. Huh…that’s not Morrison, he surmises as more knocking bangs on the door. “It’s open!” he announces, not one to turn down a potential client coming to him directly. He tosses aside the dirty magazine as the door swings open to reveal an attractive woman entering the shop.    

Dante’s brow quirks in curiosity as you look around with mild interest. “Well, well…what’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” he asks nonchalantly while his keen eyes roam up and down your form, already spotting the concealed gun holstered inside your riding jacket.  

“I’m looking for the owner of this shop,” you inform in a calm and even voice while slowly approaching the landing area of his office. “Is that you?”

Dante smirks mischievously. “That depends on who’s asking, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

Your stern voice startles him for a moment as you step up to the landing and pause by the edge of the carpet under his desk. You’re close enough now for him to get a better look at you; confident stance, sharp eyes, and a stoic face that could rival his brother’s stony expression. And yet it still captures his full attention despite your cold reception of his playful retort.  

“The name’s Dante,” he introduces himself as your head swivels around, taking in every detail of his office as you walk around his desk. “And if you’re looking for the bathroom…it’s in the back.” Dante motions with his head as you get closer to the couch, which gives him an opportunity to check you out from behind. His eyes linger up your slender legs and the curve of your ass…but then he does a bit of a double take when he notices a knife hidden in one of your boots.  

“Legendary Devil Hunter, Son of Sparda…and the embodiment of sloth apparently,” you muse aloud, stoic shell cracking a little as your lips curl into a grimace while examining the copious piles of trash strewn all over the floor.

Dante crosses his arms with a shrug. “I see my reputation still precedes me,” he quips back cheekily as your gaze turns towards the small bar in the corner.

“Please tell me that hasn’t just been hanging there rotting since the Red Grave incident,” you mutter in disbelief while pointing at the Empusa nailed to the wall with numerous swords and one small dart.

“What does a babe like you know about Red Grave?” he inquires casually while his eyes narrow suspiciously.  

A subtle spark of anger lights up your eyes. “Stop calling me babe.”

Dante slides his feet to the floor before leaning over on his desk. “How about you give me the pleasure of your name and maybe I’ll call ya by something more your style,” he offers with a wink, hoping to rekindle that spark of yours with his flirty banter.

Your smoldering eyes squint hard at him for a moment, the fierce spark now glittering as you reach inside your riding jacket. “Detective Y/N of the Red Grave City P.D.” You take out your badge and flip it open to show him your photo I.D. as you move close to his desk. “And if you call me anything but Detective…I’ll show you why some of the boys down at the station call me Ice Bitch,” you warn with a low growl filled with simmering anger.  

“Ice Bitch, huh?” Dante repeats while giving the badge a quick glance so that he doesn’t miss the show when the sparks start flying. “I dunno…you sound pretty fiery to me.”

Dante watches with fascination as your eyes burst with searing heat, but your entire face remains completely composed. It’s not exactly the kind of show he was hoping for, but there is still time to figure out what really lights your fire so long as you are here. There’s just something about you that begs him to stoke the flames flickering in your eyes…maybe it’s the way you carry yourself with utmost confidence around the shop despite the infamy around his name and reputation. Or it could be that fiery spirit hidden beneath your frosty exterior…all he knows for certain is this:

He’s gotta have more.

“So, what does the fuzz down at Red Grave want with a guy like me?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair with an amused grin, detecting another knife hidden up your sleeve as you put away your badge. “Wait, wait…lemme guess: you’re here to arrest me for being too damn good lookin’,” he jests, arching his brow while stroking his chin in a dashing manner.

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal to have a scruffy beard and unkempt hair,” you retort smoothly while straightening out your jacket. “I’m here to request any insights you have about demons.”

“Well, you definitely came to the right place,” he boasts, dramatically waving his hands around the shop before tilting his head inquisitively. “Is this for a case?”

You raise a well-trimmed brow in surprise. “You catch on quickly…yes, it’s for a case,” you confirm, resting one hand on your hip while the other hangs down by yet another knife in your pants pocket. “We need to determine if demons are involved in a series of disappearances and murders.” You pause for a moment, blinking your eyes once as you tilt your head in thought. “There’s also the possibility of a Devil Arm being involved as well. And if either of those are true…” You trail off with a weary sigh before finishing your explanation. “Maybe we can team up and work on this case together.”

Dante kicks one foot up to rest atop his knee. “It sounds like you already know a lot more than your average cop,” he notes while his brow twitches with interest at your proposal.  

“When you live in a place like Red Grave, you learn to pick up on a few things…” The spark in your eyes dims down while a haunted look flashes across your impassive face. “Never know when it might save your life,” you quickly explain, crossing your arms as your expression hardens, but the dull ember of your eyes glimmer softly.

Now that’s a look I know very well, Dante admits silently, having seen the very definition of anguish staring back at him in the mirror for years. “Alright, you wanna know more about demons…why come to me? I know for a fact that there are plenty of mercenaries in your area,” he points out with an exaggerated twirl of his finger.

“Because you’re the best of the best, Mr. Dante.”

This isn’t the first time that Dante has heard those exact same words. His usual response is to just laugh it off and comment about hearing it all before…but this time it’s different. The absolute certainty evident in your voice sends a chill down his spine. And the spark in your eyes is roaring with the flame of total conviction as you seemingly stare straight into his devilish soul.

“Hmm…you sure are painting a pretty interesting picture,” he imparts, fidgeting a little under your intense gaze, which makes him wonder if you’ve noticed just how tight his pants have gotten while talking with you. Not that he minds…but it seems you are more interested in business than pleasure right now. So, he brushes that notion aside and scoots his chair closer so that his arms can rest on the desk. “Look…I’m really flattered and all, but you’ve overlooked one minor detail: mercenaries and cops aren’t really known for working together.”

Dante flashes you with a toothy grin, hoping the reluctant act he’s putting on will illicit another feisty show. “Oh, I didn’t overlook it,” you reveal, quickly snuffing out his attempt at lighting the fuse with a shake of your head. “I just don’t give a damn.”

“Really?” He leans in closer over his desk as he pokes that wild temper of yours from another angle. “Didn’t know it was okay for you to break the law whenever you want and openly carry that gun just because of some fancy badge,” he provokes with a challenging smile.

Your stoic face contorts into furious scowl as the spark in your eyes ignites in searing rage. You quickly close the distance between both of you and slam your hands down on his desk, proving that he skipped lighting the fuse and just kicked the entire damn barrel into the fire! But it doesn’t bother Dante one bit as you lean in real close to his face over the desk, inflamed gaze boring into him while you launch into an explosive tirade.  

“Now you listen here! I took an oath to protect and serve, and that’s exactly why I’m here now! I did not work my ass off for this badge just to waltz around with this gun! And I have no intentions of abusing that sacred trust the citizens of Red Grave have put in me!”

You pause to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing in a calmer but still irate tone. “Your expertise and experience with demons may lead to the break in case we need…and it’s what I need to uphold that oath.” The harsh scowl on your face softens as the rage in your eyes dies down to a flickering flame of hope. “I need your help, Mr. Dante…I can’t crack this case wide open and finally bring this insidious killer to justice for the families and friends of their victims without you.”

Dante stares at you in awe as your impassioned speech buzzes around him like a temperamental honeybee. He couldn’t help but to watch your lips as you unleash your fury upon him…wondering if your kiss would be just as passionate as your volatile rage. And you are so close now, waiting for his response as you loom over his desk like an unmoving statue. But your intoxicating scent ensnares his senses while an all too familiar presence awakens inside him. His heart beats faster as blood rushes straight down his groin, forcing him to subtly readjust himself under the desk while the devil within purrs beneath his skin.

The door behind you suddenly swings open before he can come up with some clever one liner about enjoying the show. Morrison strolls on in and effectively pulls both of you out of the intense moment as he starts talking. “Hey Dante! Word on the street is that a detective from Red Grave City has been snooping around and…Oh!” He stops in his tracks when he finally notices you. “Looks like you’ve arrived before the rumors, Detective,” he notes smoothly while lighting up a cigar.

“I’m a firm believer of getting the whole picture before putting my pencil to paper, Mr. Morrison,” you divulge coolly without tearing your fierce gaze away from Dante’s stunned face. The corners of your mouth twitch into a fleeting smirk as you straighten up your posture while backing up from his desk. “I’ll be in the city for a couple more hours. You can find me at the Simmer Down Diner if you change your mind…and if you don’t come around, I’ll just assume that your answer is no.”

You turn and step down the landing before walking past Morrison towards the entryway. Dante’s eyes follow your every move, hypnotized by your swaying hips and confident stride as you reach for the door. “But make no mistake, Mr. Dante,” you murmur, grasping the handle as you turn to look over your shoulder. “There’s a serial killer on the loose and I intend to catch them with or without your help.” Your eyes sparkle with determination with those final words as you open the door and exit the shop.

“Did I hear her right?” Morrison questions, puffing on his cigar as he walks across the shop towards the couch. “She wants your help catching a serial killer?”

Dante keeps his eyes on the door as he nods. “Yep. Seems so.”

“Huh…that’s something you don’t see every day.” Morrison takes a seat on the couch and flicks his cigar over a nearby ashtray. “What’d she offer you in return?”

“We didn’t get that far when you busted on through the front doors.”

Morrison puffs on his cigar in quiet contemplation for a moment before cracking a knowing smile. “You’re thinkin’ about following after her, aren’t ya?”

Dante finally turns away from the door towards his dear friend. “What makes you say that?” he inquires, casually leaning back in his chair while Morrison shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“You never could resist a beautiful lady asking for help. Even when all they brought was trouble…you still hear them out and almost always take whatever bait they dangle in front of ya.”

Dante shrugs at his friend’s logic while pondering about possibilities of working with a detective. On one hand, he’d have to play nice with the police and not break too many laws if he agrees to help you. But on the other hand, he gets to hang out with a smokin’ hot detective with one helluva temper. And if he takes up your offer…his heart throbs while the devil in him purrs at the thought of reigniting the flame in your eyes and seeing more of this sizzling chemistry between the two of you.

“You know me too well, Morrison,” he discloses with a puckish grin. “I’ll let ya know if I take the bait this time.”  

Morrison waves his cigar in the air as if to say told ya so as he gets out of his chair with a small flourish. He recalls the restaurant you mentioned as he steps out the shop, knowing it to be one of many greasy spoons in this area of the city. His hands are practically shaking with anticipation as he summons Cavaliere while a blur of different emotions swirl around in his head. If you can get this kind of reaction out of him already, then he’s gotta see where this may lead because honestly…he’s never met a girl like you before.

And now that he’s had a taste…he wants so much more.

Read Chapter 4

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

[silverlightqueen]

21 Things To Do This Summer PJM

y/n has a week left to live and 21 things she wanted to do this summer. Jimin vows to help her do them all before she dies and give her the summer of a lifetime.

jimin x reader - angst, fluff, comedy, non-idol!au

Part of BangtanHQ’s ‘Bangtan Boardwalk’ at the ‘Summertime Sadness’ booth!

Rating: Mature (heavy themes and strong language - read with caution)

Word Count: 16.9k+ (she’s a monster omg)

Warnings: death and illness, discussion of death and illness, jokes about death and illness, brain tumour, discussion of eating disorders, brief mention of murder and crime (y/n jokes that Jimin could be a murderer or a thief), explicit language throughout, I think that’s it but please let me know if you noticed that I missed anything

a/n: here’s the first part guys! if you enjoy it, make sure to check out the other fics in the Summertime Sadness booth, and the other booths on the Bangtan Boardwalk! a huge thank you to @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading this massive fic, I love you so damn much x

silverlightqueen masterlist

y/n’s Summer Bucket List

21 Things to Do This Summer

1) Make a new friend

2) Dye my hair

3) Go on a road trip

4) Do pavement chalk

5) Get everybody I talk to to sign a shirt

6) Have s’mores at a bonfire

7) Get drunk and skinny dip at the beach

8) Make a wish balloon

9) Go to a fairground

10) Have a picnic

11) Get a tattoo

12) Sleep under the stars

13) Cloud watch

14) Try camping for the first time

15) Have a water fight

16) Make homemade ice cream

17) Have a pyjama day

18) Send a message in a bottle

19) Watch fireworks

20) Go to a drive-in movie

21) Make a photo album of it all

‘Hey! Hey, excuse me! Hey, wait, you dropped something!’ I can hear someone shouting and, despite the tears running down my face, I roll my eyes, wondering why the idiot who dropped something doesn’t stop to get it. ‘Excuse me! Hey, wait!’ I hear, the voice getting closer, before I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I realise; I’m the idiot.

I turn around to see a boy. The first thing I notice is the piece of paper in his hand. The second thing I notice is that I already know him. ‘You dropped thi- oh, y/n! Hey! Long time, no see. Wait, whoa, are you crying?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes again as I frustratedly wipe away my tears. ‘No, Jimin, why? Does it look like I am?’ I spit out sarcastically. ‘Okay, I’m going to ignore how rude that was because you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m going to be a good person and return this to you,’ he says, holding out the piece of paper. When I realise what it is, I snatch it from him, tucking it safely into my bag and mentally chiding myself for nearly losing it.

‘Thank you. Sorry for being rude,’ I say before I turn away, continuing to head home. It’s only after a few seconds I realise he’s walking beside me, and I speed up, trying to get away from him. He speeds up too. I slow down. So does he. I stop in my tracks, turning to shoot him an annoyed look, and he merely grins back at me, blinding me with his annoyingly handsome smile.

‘What do you want, Jimin?’ I ask tiredly, deciding not to be rude after he returned my list to me. ‘Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, so I thought it’d be nice to catch up. And I also know you, and you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m not going to abandon somebody who I have history with if they’re crying. And, as well as being a very caring and empathetic person, I’m very curious, and so I have to find out why you’re upset,’ he says, and I frown, continuing to walk, even more annoyed when he continues to walk alongside me.

‘It’s none of your business, Jimin,’ I say sharply, hoping he’ll leave me alone. ‘Well, obviously. It’s your business. But the nature of being curious is wanting to know other people’s business,’ he says as though he’s speaking to a little child, and I shoot him another look. ‘You’re practically a stranger.’ ‘I am not! We had classes together through the whole of high school!’ ‘I’m not going to tell you my business,’ I say with a note of finality, hoping he’ll leave the subject. And leave me, for that matter.

‘Would you tell me if you knew me better?’ he asks thoughtfully, and I roll my eyes. ‘Probably, yes.’ ‘Okay. I’m a Libra, I hate spinach and 13 is my lucky number. Oh, and I dance,’ he says, and I literally want to bash my head against a wall. ‘That does not mean I know you better. It just means you overshare.’ ‘Well, you can’t say I’m practically a stranger. Maybe only half a stranger,’ he says, and I let out a humourless laugh at how persistent he is, and he grins, mistaking it for a real laugh.

‘God, what is it with you? What do I have to say to you to get you to leave me alone?’ I ask, stopping in the street and putting my hand on my hip. ‘If you tell me why you’re crying. Or, should I say, were? Because, if you haven’t already noticed, you’re no longer crying. Thanks to me,’ he grins, and I actually didn’t notice that I’m not crying anymore.

‘Well, your stupid ass has distracted me,’ I admit, and he laughs, the sound quite… endearing. ‘So? Tell me then. I think I deserve to know. Considering I cheered you up,’ he says, and I roll my eyes yet again. ‘I said that you distracted me. That is not the same as cheering me up. Listen, Jimin, I’d appreciate it if you left me alone. It’s nice to see you again, and I hope everything’s going well in your life, but it is not a good time for me right now. My patience is seriously wearing thin,’ I say, continuing to walk, but he still walks beside me, making me want to throttle him.

‘I think your patience was already thin. And I’m a good citizen, so I would never just let a pretty girl crying pass me by without asking what’s wrong. Especially if I already know her,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes. Is he seriously trying to flirt with me? ‘Jimin. Leave me alone,’ I say seriously, putting emphasis on every word as the anger begins to bubble up in my stomach. ‘Not until you tell me what’s wro-’ ‘I have a week left to live!’ I shout, losing my temper, and his face instantly transforms from teasing and light, to shocked and guilty as tears fill my eyes. That’ll teach him not to pry into other people’s business.

‘Oh. Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, y/n. I wouldn’t have asked if that’s what it was. I thought you were gonna say you’d broken up with your boyfriend or something. I’m so sorry,’ he says, sounding sincere, but I merely roll my eyes, turning and walking away, and hoping he’ll leave me alone now. ‘How’d you know?’ I hear him say from beside me, and I sigh aloud, having to physically restrain myself from hitting this boy with my bag.

‘What?’ ‘How’d you know you’ve only got a week left to live?’ ‘I went to the doctor a couple days ago, for chronic headaches. They did some scans, and then I got a call this morning to go to the hospital. They told me I have a brain tumour. Terminal. They said I’m lucky if I have another ten days,’ I say tiredly, a couple tears falling down my face which I wipe away hastily, and he takes a deep breath. ‘Wow. I’m really sorry. That’s… terrible. Is there no treatment?’ he asks, and I sigh again. ‘Yes, but they said it’s unlikely to cure it, it’ll only delay my inevitable death, and it’s… painful. I’d rather die sooner than later if later’s gonna hurt. Or it could get rid of the tumour, but it could ruin my future quality of life; I might not be able to speak the same, walk the same, even think the same. So I’ve refused treatment,’ I explain, not sure why I’m opening up to him, and he nods. ‘Reasonable. I’d do the same.’

We walk in silence for a few moments before Jimin starts speaking again. ‘So. Where are you going now?’ he asks, and I side-eye him. ‘Home.’ ‘To your boyfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one of those either.’ ‘Spouse?’ ‘I’m single.’ ‘Parents?’ ‘Don’t live with them.’ ‘Siblings?’ ‘Only child.’ ‘Friends.’ ‘Don’t have any.’ ‘What about all your friends from school?’ ‘I matured; they didn’t.’ ‘Oop. Roommates?’ ‘Nope.’

‘You live alone?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘I have a dog. If that counts,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Of course it counts. What breed?’ ‘A miniature husky. His name’s Coco, and he’s literally tiny,’ I say, a small smile coming onto my face at the thought of my baby, and he holds a hand to his heart. ‘That’s a cute name. My friend, Taehyung – you remember him, right? – he has a Pomeranian who’s tiny, called Yeontan. Tannie for short. Tan for even shorter,’ he says, and I smile despite myself.

‘That’s so adorable. Maybe Taehyung can have Coco. He’ll need a new owner,’ I say jokingly, and Jimin winces. ‘Don’t you feel like it’s too early to make jokes?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘It’s never too early. By the time it’s okay, I’ll be dead,’ I say bluntly, and he lets out a strangled laugh, as though he wants to hold it back but can’t.

I still feel a little shocked, but mainly numb. I went through the stages of dealing with bad news whilst I was still at the hospital. I started by denying it, and telling the doctor that something in the scan must be wrong. And then I got super angry that it hadn’t already been identified and screamed a little at her (it was my own fault, though – I’m the one that didn’t go to the doctor until it’d been months of me having headaches). Then I tried to bargain with the doctor, and ask if there were any treatments that don’t hurt or wouldn’t cause me irreversible damage, or if there was any chance I would survive any longer. And then I cried. A lot. And by a lot, I mean a lot. I got through a box and a half of tissues. I was at the hospital for three and a half hours, and spent two hours of that crying. And I was still crying when I left.

I guess I’m now in the acceptance stage. I didn’t know it was possible to move through the stages that quickly.

‘What was that paper you dropped? Your diagnosis?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘All my paperwork was in a folder, loads of it. I threw it in the recycling at the hospital.’ ‘Glad to see you’re looking after the planet for those of us that’ll still be here when you’re gone,’ Jimin says, almost tentatively, and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth. ‘That was funny,’ I admit, and he grins, relaxing. ‘I do try.’ ‘Yes, you’re very trying.’

‘Anyway. What was that paper then?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Do you, like, make it your life’s mission to pry?’ ‘No, it comes naturally. A lot of girls receive it well, actually. They like it when someone good-looking seems interested in their life,’ he smirks, and I shoot him a disgusted look. ‘Big-headed much?’ ‘Just truthful.’ ‘Well, I’m not receiving it well. Clearly.’ ‘I guess you’re not like other girls then,’ he muses, and I shoot him another look. ‘Please don’t tell me you think that’s a compliment, because it isn’t,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Let me rephrase it. You’re not like the girls that I’m used to being around.’ ‘You’re probably used to being around girls just as pretty as you.’ ‘You think I’m pretty?’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Well, you’re right. But it’s okay, because you’re not just as pretty as me. You’re prettier.

But anyway. Are you gonna tell me what that paper is?’ he asks again, skimming over the fact he’s now called me pretty for the second time, and I sigh, giving up. ‘It’s a summer bucket list. I saw this girl reading a book with the same name in the waiting room at the doctor’s surgery the other day, and it inspired me to write one,’ I admit, and he grins. ‘That’s cute,’ he says, and I roll my eyes, looking away from him. ‘Well, I’m gonna die before I get to do any of them anyway,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that,’ he says, voice small, and I nod.

We continue walking, his shoulder a few inches from mine, and I distract myself from the slightly awkward silence by looking at our surroundings instead. It’s a lovely summer’s day today; warm and sunny with the most beautiful breeze. Families are out in force despite it being a weekday, little boys running around shirtless and barefoot, and little girls in cute summer outfits. Chill ‘vibey’ music floats through open car windows, couples share ice cream at the café we walk past, birds chirp in the trees that line the road. It’s such a beautiful day. I even shaved my legs and put on a cute floral playsuit. So much for sunbathing in the garden.

‘Hang on,’ Jimin says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. ‘What?’ ‘Who says you can’t tick off your bucket list?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to die, Jimin,’ I say slowly, and he lets out a frustrated noise. ‘You have a week. That’s more than enough time for us to do it all,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Us? Who said anything about us?’ ‘I’ve taken it upon myself to help you tick off this bucket list.’ ‘And I’m taking it upon myself to refuse your help.’

‘Um, rude. Why?’ he asks with an amused glint in his eye, and my eyes widen even more. ‘Are you kidding? We barely know each other. The closest we ever were was when Nayeon and Jungkook dated and we all planned at their joint birthday party, and when we got paired together for that History project. That was years ago; I have no idea what kind of person you are now. You could be a murderer,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to die anyway,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘Okay, I’m allowed to joke about it; you are not. You could be a thief.’ ‘Again: you’re going to die anyway. But, I’m not a thief, so don’t worry. You’ll still have all of your belongings to put in your will.’ ‘Excuse me. Stop joking about my imminent death.’

‘Listen, I want to help you. Let me help you tick off your bucket list,’ he pleads, and I’m surprised at myself for actually considering it. I’m going to die anyway – I might as well spend my last few days having fun. Even if it is with an unbearably curious person from my past. ‘Please let me help you. I’ll consider my life a waste if you don’t,’ he says dramatically, dropping to the floor, making enough of a scene for people to look over at us. ‘Jimin, get up,’ I hiss, and he scrabbles at my shoes. ‘I’ll die if you don’t let me. Please, y/n, please let me,’ he wails, and I look around embarrassedly, feeling lots of stares on us.

‘If I say yes, will you stop making such an embarrassment of yourself?’ I hiss, and he looks up at me with wide eyes and a grin, nodding. ‘Then, yes. I’ll let you help me,’ I sigh, and he jumps up from the floor, a wide smile spreading across his lips. ‘Okay, let’s see what I’m working with,’ he says, and I look at him blankly. ‘Let me see the list,’ he prompts, and I pull the list out of my bag, handing it to him tiredly.

‘Okay, let’s see. ‘y/n’s Summer Bucket List’. Cute. ‘21 Things to Do This Summer’. Only 21 things? This’ll be easier than I thought,’ he says, before his eyes scan down the rest of the list. As he reads it, I look him up and down, inspecting him. He’s changed since school. A lot. He’s now around 5’8’’, with clear golden skin, chocolate brown eyes, plump pink lips and ink black hair swept back from his forehead (must be dyed because I remember his hair being a lot lighter than this). He’s dressed in a pair of grey shorts and a plain white t-shirt, a loose grey jacket over the top of it with pair of sunglasses at the back of his head. ‘Okay, well, you’ve already achieved number one. Making a new friend,’ he says, pointing at himself with a grin, and I roll my eyes exasperatedly. ‘I don’t know you well enough to call you a friend,’ I say, and he sighs.

‘That’s the best bit. You barely know me, and I barely know you. We can be whoever we want to be. All I know about you is the vague stuff from school, and I know that you had high hopes for this summer, but you’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness. And you’ve only got a week left. And that you’re grumpy and get annoyed easily and are not receptive to strangers. And you’ve got a dog called Coco. All you know about me is the vague stuff from school, and that I’m a Libra, I hate spinach, my lucky number is 13, and that I dance.’ ‘And that you’re annoyingly curious and persistent and stubborn and think a lot of yourself.’ ‘Exactly! That’s literally nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘So you think we should lie to each other about what and who we are?’ ‘No, no, you’re misunderstanding. Haven’t you ever wanted to be like someone, but you’re too scared to, or you’re too stuck in your ways?’ he asks, voice soft, and I nod. ‘This is your chance. We barely know each other, and we have no more than a week together. You get to be whatever you want to be, y/n, and we’ll tick off everything on your list. We can be like those reckless teenagers from all those stupid films. What have you got to lose?’ he says gently, his eyes big and his words convincing.

‘We can’t do all this in a week,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Can’t is not in my vocabulary. And neither are cannot, unable to, won’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, mustn’t-’ ‘Who in this century says mustn’t?’ ‘We can easily do all this in a week. Even less than a week,’ he says, and I raise a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Ambitious, but I don’t think so.’ ‘And that’s not in my vocabulary either. But… give me four days,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Four days?’ ‘Easy. I could probably do it in three, but I’ll say an extra day just to be sure,’ he says confidently, and I roll my eyes.

‘Haven’t you, like… got a job? Or, like, studying? You can’t just devote four days – or more – to helping me tick off my bucket list,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Why are you so sensible? Trust me, there’s nothing I have to do,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow, not believing him for a second. ‘Fine,’ he sighs, ‘I work with my friend – Hoseok, remember him? – at his dance studio, but he’ll let me have some time off,’ he says, and I’m still slightly sceptical, but decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Why do you want to help me? Haven’t you got better things to do with your life?’ I ask him, voice small, and he smiles, seemingly endeared. ‘There’s something tragic about you, y/n. You went to the hospital alone to be told that you’re going to die. And you don’t live with anybody. And you have a list of things you wanted to do this summer, but won’t be able to do them without help. My help. Of all the places you dropped that paper, you dropped it in front of me. And of all the people that could’ve picked it up, it was me. We haven’t seen each other since we left school, and even though the odds of us seeing each other again were slim, look where we are. Fate works in mysterious ways, y/n. Let me help you. For old time’s sake,’ he says softly, and I feel that little voice in my head whisper, ‘why not?’

‘You know what? Let’s do it,’ I say, throwing caution to the wind, and feeling a little bit of excitement bloom in my chest. ‘Wait, really?’ he asks, surprise on his face but also… hope in his eyes. ‘Yeah. Let’s do it,’ I say with a small smile, the excitement in my chest flooding out into my veins. He jumps up and pumps the air, whooping and shouting in celebration, and I don’t even feel embarrassed of him, finding it quite endearing.

‘Okay, let’s get started. It’s 12.32, so we have until 12.32 on Sunday to tick the whole list off. Let me look at the list again. Um… well, number one’s done. And the last one, the photo album, we can buy a photo album now and take pictures as we go along to put in it,’ he says, thinking aloud, before he turns abruptly. I look around in alarm before rushing after him. ‘Where are we going?’ ‘There’s a supermarket just down the road that we can get a photo album from. Oh, and we can buy an instant camera too! Cuter pictures,’ he says, and I roll my eyes with a small smile on my face.

‘We should just scrap that one. It’s not like I’ll be able to look back at it, so what’s the point?’ I say, and he frowns at me. ‘Well, we could say that about all of this, but it’s about making your last few days exciting and fun and an experience of a lifetime. So don’t say ‘what’s the point’, because there is a point,’ he says firmly, and I keep my mouth shut, unable to stop a small smile from appearing on my face.

We enter the supermarket, the change in temperature making me shiver in my skimpy outfit, and Jimin looks over at me. ‘Oh, my God, my mum would kill me if she knew how ungentlemanly I was being right now,’ he says, taking his jacket off. ‘No, Jimin, it’s fine,’ I try to stop him, but he’s already handing it to me and taking my little backpack from my hand. ‘Let me. Have you ever been treated like a princess?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly. ‘Then take the jacket and let me hold your bag. It’s the least you deserve,’ he says, and I smile to myself as I shrug on the jacket without further complaint, watching amusedly when he puts on the backpack.

He leads us towards the electronics, the back corner of the store, and makes a beeline for the camera section. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ he asks, and I hesitate. ‘It’s hard to choose a favourite,’ I say quietly, and he rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Okay. What’s your favourite colour out of these?’ he says, motioning to the instant cameras, and I think before answering, ‘that one. The pastel blue.’ ‘Ah, nice choice,’ he says, picking one of the boxes up and heading over towards where the photo albums are, and I follow after him. ‘This one’s perfect!’ he says, pointing at one the same colour as the camera, and I nod, Jimin picking it up with a grin.

‘Right, let’s just double-check this list and see if there’s anything else we need,’ he says, getting the list out of his pocket again. ‘Hmm, we could buy some chalk to do number 4. And we can buy a shirt and markers to do number 5,’ he says, thinking aloud again, walking ridiculously quickly to where the art and school supplies section where the chalk and markers will be, before rushing off towards the clothes section, having me running around behind him.

Once we’ve picked out a plain white button-up dress shirt, we head over to the counter, Jimin chatting amicably with the cashier as I hang behind, surprised and slightly envious of his ability to speak to strangers like they’re close friends. ‘Would you mind doing us a favour?’ Jimin asks, and the cashier nods instantly, scanning through the shirt. ‘Can you sign this shirt? Just, like, with your name and your… job, I guess. We, um, we’re doing a project,’ Jimin says with a grin at me, and the cashier nods again, looking a little confused as Jimin hands her a marker from the pack. She writes ‘Soojung –supermarket cashier’, before handing Jimin the marker back with a grin.

‘Have you got film for this camera?’ Soojung asks as she scans it through, and Jimin looks to me, both of us exchanging an embarrassed glance. ‘No, but it’d probably help,’ I say frankly, and Jimin nods with a laugh. ‘I’ll go and grab them for you,’ the cashier says, getting up and running off. ‘We could’ve gone and gotten it, she didn’t have to,’ I say, and Jimin grins. ‘Perks of being a nice person – people do things for you that they don’t have to,’ he says pointedly, and I scowl at him. ‘Was that a dig?’ I demand, and he grins even wider. ‘Not at all, my dear, y/n,’ he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and I roll my eyes in response, the cashier reappearing with a couple boxes of film.

‘Do you want just the one or…?’ ‘We’ll take both,’ Jimin replies, the cashier nodding, scanning them through. ‘Gonna make some summer memories?’ the cashier asks, and we exchange another glance, a small smile playing at Jimin’s lips when he replies, ‘something like that, yeah.’

‘Okay, let’s have another look at this list,’ Jimin says once we’re seated in the back corner of his favourite coffee shop, pulling the list out of his pocket and reading it through. ‘So you’ve already made a new friend. Me. We’ve got the chalk for number four, and a shirt and markers for number 5. I should sign the shirt, right?’ he says, and I nod, thinking this’ll be easier if I let him do what he wants, and he grins, writing ‘Park Jimin - y/n’s fabulously beautiful assistant and school friend’. I raise an eyebrow, and he raises one back, challenging me to say something, but I just shake my head with a small smile.

‘Let’s look at the rest of them. Number 2, dyeing your hair… I have a trillion boxes of dye at home, that’s easy. Number 3, go on a road trip… we can do that, and tick off the others as we do it. Number 4, pavement chalk, we can do with Taehyung on his and Namjoon’s driveway because Tae’s good at art and their driveway is huge. Number 5, get everyone to sign a shirt, won’t be difficult, we just have to remember. Number 6, have s’mores at a bonfire… let me think about that one. Number 7,’ he begins, before looking up at me with a smirk, and I roll my eyes, a little embarrassed.

‘Don’t laugh. It’s something that so many people have done, and I never have,’ I say defensively, his mouth falling open. ‘You’ve never gotten drunk?’ he asks jokingly, and I laugh despite myself. ‘No, idiot, I’ve never skinny-dipped, but I’m pretty sure I’ll only have the courage to do it if I’m drunk,’ I say, and he nods, looking at me thoughtfully. ‘You can leave me with that one too, I’ll think about it.

Number 8, make a wish balloon, that’s easy. Number 9, go to a fairground… that may be a bit more difficult, but I’ll get it done. Number 10, have a picnic, easy. Number 11, get a tattoo, ooh, that’s fun. I know the perfect place. Number 12, go to a drive-in movie… difficult, but I’ll find a way. Number 13, cloud watch, super easy. Number 14, try camping for the first time, that’s easy too. Number 15, water fight… that’s easy as well. Number 16, homemade ice cream, easy. Number 17, pyjama day, even easier. Number 18, send a message in a bottle… should be easy. Number 19, run through sprinklers… shouldn’t be too hard. I hope. Number 20, stargaze and fall asleep under the stars, should be easy enough. And Number 21 is well under way already,’ he says with a grin.

The photo album already has two pictures in it; one of Jimin and I smiling and squinting in the sunlight, and one of us with the cashier, who looks a little awkward, but it’s fine. Nothing will be more awkward than telling her we’re trying to tick off a summer bucket list within a few days because I’m going to die soon. I was right – Jimin has a serious habit of oversharing.

‘Hi, welcome to the Sweetbrew. I’m Yoongi, I’ll be your server. What can I get you?’ a barista says, sounding like he wants to die, his entire face hidden behind a menu. ‘Yoongi,’ Jimin says, snatching the menu to reveal a boy with porcelain skin, mint green hair and brown eyes. I recognise him as one of Jimin’s best friends from school – Min Yoongi.

He was always one of the quieter members of their friendship group. Not shy, but more calm and laidback – it was easy to seem like that when surrounded by his friends, every single one of them having been big and loud characters. But he was just like the rest of them in that he was definitely popular, and desirable too. Everyone saw him as this sensitive and kind boy, his passion for music reinforcing that even more, and there was always somebody that was crushing on him, his look unique and intriguing. And he’s only gotten better looking since school, more mature and manly, yet still with the soft and delicate features that he had back then.

‘Oh, Jimin. Hey,’ he says, sounding a little more lively, before he turns to look at me. ‘Ah, y/n, right? From school?’ he asks, and I’m surprised at how quick he recognises me. ‘I told the group chat about you. Sorry,’ Jimin says, and my eyes widen, Yoongi sitting in the spare seat at our table. ‘What? When?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘While you got distracted playing with that puppy outside the supermarket,’ he says, and I frown.

‘Did you tell them everything?’ ‘No. Well, nearly everything. I told them what we’re doing, but I didn’t say why. Obviously,’ he says, and I fix him with a glare. ‘Oh, it’s okay to tell a random shop worker, but not your best friends?’ I ask, Yoongi shooting him a look too. ‘Not cool, Park,’ Yoongi says, and Jimin scowls. ‘I already apologised for that. I have a serious problem with oversharing,’ he says, Yoongi and I exchanging a glance as we chorus, ‘we know.’

‘Why are you doing this? If you don’t mind me asking,’ Yoongi asks, curiosity in his eyes, and I sigh. ‘I’ve got a brain tumour, so I’ve got, like, a week left to live,’ I say bluntly, Yoongi’s mouth falling open. ‘Oh. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, y/n, that’s awful,’ he says, sounding a little awkward, but I wave him off. ‘It’s fine. I’ve already gone through the five stages, and am now sufficiently distracted from my impending demise by your stupid friend,’ I say, Jimin scowling.

‘Well, at least he can make up for being stupid by helping you tick off your list. Anyway, you guys want drinks or you just chilling?’ Yoongi asks, and Jimin looks to me to answer. ‘I could do with a drink.’ ‘What would you like, y/n?’ Yoongi asks, and I hesitate, not quite sure. ‘Um… I don’t know. Jimin, what do you have?’ I ask, but Jimin already looks like he’s cooking up a scheme. ‘What fruits do you like, y/n?’ he asks me, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘berries, pineapple, mango, kiwi, peach. I like everything.’

Yoongi and Jimin exchange a glance, talking without words, and Yoongi nods before disappearing into the back. ‘Anyway. We need to get Yoongi to sign your shirt before we leave, remember. And then… we can go to Tae and Joon’s to do pavement chalk. And we should be able to make the ice cream at Tae and Joon’s too. Then we can go and pick up stuff from our houses before we go on the road trip,’ he says, and I hold up a hand.

‘We’re gonna have to go to mine before we go to Taehyung and Namjoon’s, because I’ve left Coco with the neighbour. I told her I’d only be a couple hours and it’s already been… nearly four,’ I say, Jimin nodding, and I can practically see his mind working. ‘We can get Coco and take her to theirs, and she can play with Tan while we get on with ticking things off. And then we can take her on the road trip with us the next day,’ he says, and I nod, getting more and more excited with his ideas.

‘Are you gonna drop me home tonight and then pick me up in the morning?’ I ask, and he thinks. ‘How about… we sleep over at Tae and Joon’s? You can get all your stuff when we go now, and then we’ll be able to leave first thing in the morning,’ he suggests, but I’m sceptical. ‘Won’t they mind?’ I ask, and he shakes his head instantly. ‘They’re so chill about this kinda stuff. They really won’t mind. We all sleep over at their house all the time because it’s the biggest. There’s more than enough space,’ he says, obviously trying hard to convince me, and I nod. There’s no point worrying about intruding at their house when their best friend seems to be the most intruding person in history.

Jimin looks back down at the list, thinking hard, and I smile to myself. It’s sweet that he’s putting so much effort in to try and tick off this list, even though we barely know each other. The most we ever said to each other at school would’ve been ‘d’you have a spare pen?’ or ‘can you pass me the bottle opener?’

Yoongi reappears after a couple minutes with two plastic cups in his hands, the drinks within them vibrant pink and orange. ‘I call this one… ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’. I put in the syrups for all the fruits you named and a lot of sugar and ice,’ he says, putting them down with a flourish, my heart warming as I smile at him. ‘Thank you. It looks amazing,’ I say, taking a sip, my eyes widening as the flavours explode in my mouth. ‘And it tastes amazing too,’ Jimin says, having already taken a (large) gulp.

‘I’m not the best barista here for nothing. But, y/n, you gotta take the credit. It is named after you,’ Yoongi says, and I roll my eyes with a smile. ‘Get out of here. But, for real, it tastes great, Yoongi,’ I say, the boy giving me the cutest gummy smile, and then I notice Jimin fiddling around with the camera. ‘What are you trying to do?’ I ask, stifling a laugh, and he sighs defeatedly. ‘Take a picture of us with your drink,’ he says, and I hold back a smile, ‘get someone else to take it.’

He ropes in an innocent woman sat beside us with her friend, and she takes a while to focus the camera on us and get the three of us in frame, but when the photo develops, it’s pretty good. ‘Perfect. Right, let’s head back and get Coco,’ Jimin says, and I hold out a hand. ‘Wait. Yoongi, will you sign this shirt?’ I ask, and he looks a little confused. Nevertheless, he signs it as ‘Min Yoongi – creator of the iconic ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’ drink and y/n’s school friend’.

Jimin looks thoughtful as we rise from our seats, and I side-eye him. I’ve noticed that a little bit of panic appears in my chest when I see that look on his face. ‘Yoongi, you busy tonight?’ Jimin asks, and Yoongi shakes his head. ‘I’m never busy,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘When d’you get off work?’ ‘4.’ ‘Come ‘round to Tae and Joon’s. I got an idea,’ Jimin says cryptically, wiggling his eyebrows at me, and I give him a look.

‘Okay. See you guys later then,’ Yoongi says before turning to head into the back. ‘Wait. Don’t we need to pay?’ I ask, and Yoongi smiles at me, a little sadness behind the expression. ‘It’s on the house. I might even speak to the manager about getting this drink put on the menu,’ he says, and I smile at him, trying to ignore the tears in my eyes. ‘Good idea. Thanks, Yoongi. See you later,’ I say, Jimin bidding him goodbye as he disappears into the back. ‘Okay,’ Jimin turns to look at me with a grin, ‘let’s go get Coco.’

‘Oh, y/n. Oh, my angel, I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Choi says for the eleventh time, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, and I smile sadly. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Choi,’ I say, not sure what else to say, when Jimin appears at my elbow. ‘Everything’s in the car now, so whenever you’re ready,’ he says with a grin as he hands me the house keys, Mrs Choi looking him up and down. ‘Oh, Mrs Choi, this is Jimin… an old school friend. Jimin, this is Mrs Choi, my lovely neighbour who my dog likes more than me,’ I say, Mrs Choi laughing as Jimin shakes her hand, bowing his head politely.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, y/n, Coco adores you. He cries whenever you leave him with me,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘And then cries when I come to pick him up,’ I point out, and she waves a hand dismissively. ‘It’s because I feed him so much,’ Mrs Choi says, and I laugh, Coco appearing in the doorway behind her. He comes bounding up to me, my heart filling as he rests his front paws on my leg, and I bend down to pick him up. ‘Hi, baby. You okay?’ I say, showering him in kisses, and ducking away when he tries to lick my face. I hate when he licks my makeup off.

‘That is the cutest dog ever,’ Jimin says, and I hold Coco out to him. He instantly takes him into his arms, and giggles when he licks the tip of his nose. Coco leaps out of his arms, and he panics, trying to catch him, but he does it all the time, bounding around the front garden. ‘Here,’ Mrs Choi says, handing Jimin the little tennis ball she keeps beside the door for when she plays with Coco. He instantly throws it and Coco bounds after it, running straight back to him with it in his mouth.

‘He’s handsome,’ Mrs Choi observes quietly so Jimin can’t hear, and I roll my eyes. ‘And doesn’t he know it?’ ‘Are you… and him…?’ ‘Oh, God, no. I… there’s a list of things I wanted to do this summer, and he’s helping me get through it all before I...’ I trail off, and she nods, blinking furiously, obviously trying not to cry. ‘That’s lovely of him. Make sure you take lots of pictures to show me,’ she says, and I grin. ‘We’ve already started a photo album. Actually. Hold on,’ I say, getting the camera out of my bag as Jimin bends down to pet Coco who jumps on him, the unexpectedness making him fall onto his back. I get a really cute picture of him lying down, laughing, with Coco on his chest, trying to lick his face.

‘Lovely. Well, I’ll let you get to it. But make sure you come to see me again before… well, when you get back from ticking off your list,’ she says, pulling me into a hug, and I screw my eyes shut, trying my hardest not to cry in front of her. She’s been like a mother figure to me since I moved out of my parents’ house, always coming over to check if I’m okay, bringing me food and inviting me around at least once a week, looking after Coco whenever I need her to. I’m heartbroken that I’m going to be leaving a hole in her life when I go.

‘I will. See you later, Mrs Choi,’ I say, pulling away from her, and we exchange a sad smile. ‘See you, y/n. Be careful, dear, and have fun,’ she says sadly, pressing a kiss to my cheek, giving me one last long look before she disappears into her house. I don’t blame her; I’d be struggling to deal if I were in her position.

‘Okay. Let’s go,’ I call to Jimin who’s sat cross legged on the floor, Coco running towards him with the ball and dropping it beside him. Jimin’s standing when I reach them and he hands me the ball, Coco’s eyes never leaving it. ‘Do you want Coco to sit on my lap or do you mind him sitting in the back?’ I ask, as we walk towards his car, and he shrugs. ‘He can sit in the back, I don’t mind,’ he says, and I pull open the back door, putting the ball in there, and Coco leaps in without hesitation. I shut the door behind him before climbing into the passenger seat, Jimin already sat in the driver’s seat.

‘You ready?’ he says excitedly as he starts the engine, putting on the radio which is currently playing Justin Bieber. ‘Yep. Let’s do this,’ I say, sneaking one last look at Mrs Choi’s house. And then it hits me. This might be the last time I look at her house. I might die before I get to see her again.

My body goes cold all over, tears prickling in my eyes as my throat constricts painfully. It just repeats in my head again and again; ‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.’

Coco realises I’m upset before Jimin does, and he begins to whine from the backseat. ‘Is Coco okay?’ I hear Jimin’s voice distantly, and when I don’t reply, I hear him coo, ‘Coco? What’s the matter, boy?’ And then he looks over at me.

‘Oh,’ he breathes out, instantly pulling over. ‘y/n,’ he says gently, reaching out to take one of my hands, and the second his skin touches mine, I burst into tears. He shuffles as close as he can, the gearstick separating us, and he leans across the gap, pulling me into his arms. I sob into his shoulder, letting him hold me as the tears come in an endless flood, whispering the words ‘I’m going to die’ every few seconds.

Once I’ve calmed down (and feel ridiculously uncomfortable in the position we’re in), I gently push away from him, and he releases me, still holding one of my hands in his. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper, and he frowns. ‘Don’t apologise. You’re allowed to be upset. Like, you’re going to die, for God’s sake; you can cry about that. Cry as much as you want, you’re entitled to do so. Just… tell me when you’re upset so I don’t say something stupid,’ he says ruefully, a small laugh falling from my lips, and he grins.

‘It’s just… it’s not fair. There’s still so much I wanted to do with my life. I’ll never work in my dream job. There are so many beautiful places I’ll never get to see. Tokyo, Mexico, Portugal, Bali, Dubai, India, Australia, Brazil, Hawaii, The Caribbean, The Maldives, Greece, Morocco. So many things that everyone does that I’ll never get a chance to do. Fall in love, get married, have a family. I’ve never even been in a relationship,’ I say with a harsh laugh, and Jimin sighs.

‘You’re right, y/n. It’s not fair, it’s not fair at all. You deserve so much more, so much better. You’ve been robbed of the rest of your life. You’re allowed to be angry. I’m angry,’ he says so simply, and it feels as though his words just… make it all okay. It’s hard to explain, but they feel like a consolation. They make me feel like the way I’m feeling isn’t me just being irrational, or a spoiled brat, because I know that it could be worse. They make me feel like I’m justified in my thoughts and feelings. And that’s what I need right now.

‘Thank you,’ I say, sniffling a little, and he smiles at me. ‘You’re most welcome, y/n. Now. Are you ready to go to Tae and Joon’s or would you like to cry for a little longer?’ he says teasingly, and I laugh, shoving him gently. ‘Drive, you moron,’ I say, and he gasps as he starts up the car, a small grin playing at his lips as he says, ‘Moron? I’m about to give you the summer of a lifetime in four days. Do you think a moron could do that? No, of course they couldn’t.’

‘y/n! Oh, my God, girl, it’s so good to see you!’ Taehyung exclaims the second I open the car door, running over from the front door and throwing his arms around me. I was always a little closer to Taehyung than I was to Jimin, because we had quite a few classes together. I hug him back, my face practically smushed against his chest as he holds me in a bone-crushingly tight embrace.

‘Hey, Taehyung. How have you been?’ I ask as he releases me, his hands still on my shoulders. He holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down, before an appreciative grin spreads across his face. I hold back from pointing out that he still has the same adorable boxy smile from high school. And then I register his bright blue hair, stifling a laugh at how eccentric he still is. ‘I’m good. You got hot, y/n!’ he exclaims, and I feel blood rushing to my face from embarrassment.

‘Thank you. But look at you! You’re so handsome, Tae,’ I grin, and he grins back with a little wink. Everything about him is just as appealing as back then. Tae was definitely a ladies’ man… and a men’s man too. He was loud and bubbly, his personality easily grabbing the attention of everyone in any room, and his laugh was crazy infectious. He was the perfect mix of cute and hot, and he’s only gotten hotter, with his manly features and strong build.

‘Thank you, babe. Come in, come in. Jimin, do you need a hand with the bags? No? Good,’ he says, not even waiting for an answer from Jimin before he drags me up towards the house, the other boy muttering behind us as I hear him pop the boot open.

The second I step over the threshold, a ball of fluff appears and begins yapping at me from behind Tae, and he bends down to pick it up. ‘y/n, this is my beloved son, Kim Yeontan, or Tannie for short,’ Taehyung says, introducing me to his little Pomeranian, who has now quietened down and is staring at me with a curious look in his eyes. ‘Hi, Tannie,’ I coo at the dog, reaching a hand out to stroke his head, and he lets me with a contented little growl low in his throat.

‘Ah, he likes you! He rarely likes strangers. Little coward,’ Taehyung says affectionately as I slip off my shoes, Jimin appearing in the doorway with my bag (a suitcase, actually – yes, I might be dying soon, but I wanna make sure I look good when I do, so I had to bring plenty of clothes) in one hand, and Coco in the other. And then the barking match starts.

Coco and Yeontan incessantly yowl and woof at each other, both of them scrabbling to get out of Jimin and Tae’s arms. And then Taehyung puts Tan down, and Tan instantly shuts up, hiding behind his dad’s legs. Jimin does the same, putting Coco down, and he tries to get Jimin to pick him up again. ‘They’re both cowards,’ I mutter with a smile as Taehyung leads us down the front hallway, Yeontan trotting along beside him as I follow behind, Coco hanging back with Jimin as he takes his shoes off and shuts the front door.

We enter the kitchen, and if it wasn’t clear from the outside of the house, it’s made clear now; this house is beautiful, and expensive. It’s roomy and spacious, modern and clean, with classy and tasteful furnishings. ‘I love your house, Tae. It’s so nice, and I love the way you’ve decorated,’ I say, and he beams at me, eyes nearly disappearing behind their lids. ‘Thank you, y/n. It was all me – Joon has no sense of decoration,’ he says, sounding genuinely touched, and Jimin raises an eyebrow at me as he walks in. ‘Look at you sucking up,’ he mutters with a grin, and Tae and I both shoot him dirty looks.

‘You want something to drink, y/n? Before we get started on the chalk?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘I’m okay, thank you,’ I reply, but he’s already distracted with the list that Jimin’s put in front of him on the marble island counter. ‘Ooh, so this is the list? Let’s have a look,’ he says before reading it intently. Once he’s done, his eyes flit up to me, before flitting back down to the page.

‘Don’t take offence to this, okay?’ he says, and I already brace myself for a mocking remark. ‘Some of this stuff is, like, basic teenager stuff. How have you not done all of this already?’ he asks softly, and I feel a little embarrassed. ‘I don’t know, I just… after high school, I drifted from the girls – I still talk to them every now and then, but it isn’t the same – and I didn’t really… make any new friends to do these kind of things with. I have my work friends, but the most I’ve ever done with them is a night out. And in high school, I guess I was… too cautious and too scared to join in on these kind of things. We went on a group trip to the beach – I was the only one that didn’t skinny dip. The end of school prank was dyeing our hair in the school toilets – I was the one of the only ones that didn’t dye mine. Everyone planned a camping trip together – I didn’t go. I was, and still am, a little… uptight, I guess? I wanted to change that this summer, but…’ I trail off, and Tae surprises me by nodding sadly.

‘Jimin told me on the phone while you were talking to your neighbour,’ he says, and I shoot Jimin a look. ‘I thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to keep telling people!’ he exclaims defensively, and I nod with a roll of my eyes, thinking his reasoning is fair enough. ‘I’m really sorry, y/n. There’s not much someone can say in these kind of situations, but I just want you to know that I’m so sorry, and that it’s so unfair,’ he says gently, and I smile sadly. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

‘Now, anyway. Shall we get on with this list? I know Jimin said that we can start with chalk and ice cream, but…’ Tae says, voice a lot more cheerful as he sidles over to me, twisting a lock of my hair around his finger, ‘I think we should dye your hair first.’ ‘Dye it?’ I say, lifting a hand to pat my hair protectively, having not yet worked up the courage. ‘Yep. I have trillions of box dyes upstairs – you can choose any colour you like,’ he says, and I look over at Jimin who grins, nodding encouragingly.

A few minutes later, I’m sat on a stool in Tae’s lavish bathroom, a towel resting over my shoulders as I inspect the boxes laid out on the counter in front of me, Taehyung and Jimin stood behind me as Coco and Tan play in Tae’s bedroom (they seem to be the best of friends now). ‘I’m thinking I shouldn’t go too wild considering it’ll be my funeral in a little while and my parents will probably want an open casket,’ I say musingly, Taehyung choking on air as Jimin holds back a smile.

‘Good idea. Maybe… highlights or ombre rather than the whole head?’ Jimin suggests, and I nod, feeling a little more at ease at not having to take the full plunge. ‘Okay… what colour then?’ Taehyung asks, and I look at all the colours. ‘Um… I don’t know. It’s really difficult,’ I say a little timidly, both boys nodding reassuringly, trying to give me a little more confident. ‘You’re right, it is difficult. How about… two platinum blonde streaks at the front of your hair?’ Taehyung asks, and I nearly choke.

‘Blonde streaks… like an e-girl?’ I ask, and Tae laughs, nodding. ‘It’s on trend, and I think you’ll be able to pull it off really well,’ Tae says thoughtfully, and whilst I’m still not convinced, Jimin nods excitedly. ‘Yes, that’d look amazing! Go on, y/n, you should!’ Jimin urges, eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I sigh before nodding with a small smile. ‘Why not? Go for it,’ I say, the two of them exchanging a grin.

Before I know it, the front sections of my hair have been bleached and foiled, and a timer has been set for 20 minutes. And Jimin is contemplating dyeing his own hair. ‘I mean, I’ve had black for so long, and I need a change, right? I’ve been wanting to go bright for a while. But do I go a natural bright, or a colourful bright?’ he muses, Tae fake yawning at him in the mirror, coaxing a giggle from me, but Jimin doesn’t notice, too busy inspecting the dye boxes.

‘If it helps, I liked it when you went blond at school. You look nice blond,’ I say, and he looks at me in the mirror with a thoughtful look in his eyes. ‘Bright blond, or platinum blond, or dirty blond?’ he asks, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘bright blond.’ ‘Okay, let’s go bright blond then,’ he says instantly, disappearing off to get a towel from Tae’s airing cupboard.

‘That was… interesting,’ Tae says with a smirk at me in the mirror, and I look back at him confusedly. ‘How so?’ ‘He never takes anyone’s advice when it comes to his hair dye. And he never decides that quick,’ he says, his smirk even wider, but Jimin reappears before I can reply. I try to shake off Tae’s words as Jimin looks for the right box dye.

‘Maybe I should dye my hair too,’ Tae says, looking at his blue locks in the mirror. ‘I like you with brown hair, Tae. I’d like it if you had brown hair at my funeral,’ I say, and his eyes widen slightly at the mention of it again. ‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We should all have natural colours for the funeral, out of respect,’ Jimin says, and I frown. ‘No, I don’t mind if you guys had the craziest colours ever. I just think you look so… classically handsome with brown hair, Tae,’ I say, and he looks smug at my compliment. ‘Okay,’ he grins, reaching for a box dye, Jimin and I exchanging a look in the mirror as he says, ‘guess I’m going brown then.’

‘When did you go brown, Tae? And you blond, Jimin?’ a voice suddenly says, making all three of us jump. There’s a man stood on Taehyung’s front garden, and I remember him as Jung Hoseok from school. He was cute back then, but he’s handsome now with his golden skin and his silky brown hair. ‘About… 90 minutes ago,’ Taehyung says, currently drawing what looks like a heart but could also be an alien, and Hoseok nods as though it’s perfectly normal.

‘Hey, y/n. Your hair looks nice,’ Hoseok says, shooting a heart-shaped smile at me, and I smile back. I’m still not used to my hair being blonde when it falls into my face, but it does look nice – Tae and Jimin did a good job. ‘Hey, Hoseok. Thank you. Tae and Jimin did it.’ ‘Please, call me Hobi. Anyway, how are you?’ he says before wincing, obviously already aware of my situation. Jimin really can’t keep his mouth shut. ‘I’m okay. How are you?’ I ask, and he nods, replying, ‘I’m good. Excited to work on this list.’ ‘Well, get some chalk and get your ass down here to help us,’ Jimin says from where he’s sprawled out on the gravel, drawing a dog (or attempting to, anyway).

We’ve been working on the chalk for just over an hour, listening to music from Taehyung’s speaker that’s sat in the doorway (Coco and Tan have already knocked it over several times whilst they’ve been playing). Bright chalk covers nearly all of Taehyung and Namjoon’s driveway – except for where Tae and Jimin’s cars are – rainbows, flowers, hearts, clouds surrounding us (as well as a bunny, a pineapple, a unicorn, a slice of watermelon and Jimin’s dog).

‘It looks like you’re nearly done,’ Hoseok observes, and I nod, wiping my forehead clean of sweat. ‘Yeah, we are. This isn’t as fun as I thought it was going to be,’ I say frankly, the others all laughing. ‘The fun comes from taking pictures with the chalk,’ Taehyung says, and I get up instantly. ‘Okay, let’s just take pictures and then carry on with the list,’ I say, the three of them laughing again as Jimin and Taehyung get up from the floor.

Taehyung instantly goes into director mode, making me lie down in a gap in the chalk. Jimin stands over me, one foot on either side of my waist, taking pictures on both the camera and his phone whilst Taehyung directs him on how to take them and me on how to pose, Hobi using his phone torch to give us better lighting (it doesn’t make much of a difference, but he’s trying).

I start to feel a little embarrassed, wondering what we must look like to Tae’s neighbours, before I remember that life is short – mine especially – so I should make the most of it without worrying what people think of me. After a few minutes (and a few dozen pictures), I get into it a little more, and the boys all begin hyping me up, Jimin making a few flirty comments here and there.

And then Jimin joins me, Taehyung taking the camera and Hobi directing us (he’s even more… bossy than Taehyung, instructing us down to the simplest things – the positions of our fingers, the direction we look in, the angle of our heads. Everything.)

‘You guys are gonna make her regret asking for help,’ a voice comes from the driveway, all of us looking over to see Namjoon and Jungkook from school stood there, leaning against the Jimin’s car. ‘Watch the car!’ Jimin exclaims, both of them heading over. ‘Just for the record, I didn’t ask for help. Jimin forc- I mean, Jimin volunteered his help,’ I say, correcting myself when he shoots me a dirty look, the others laughing.

‘It’s good to see you guys again. Did you walk here?’ I ask, and Namjoon nods. ‘It’s good to see you too. Jungkook picked me up from work, and then we dropped his car off and walked here. We all live really close to each other. Jimin, Jungkook and Hobi live on the road up there, and Jin and Yoongi live on the road down that way,’ Namjoon points, and I nod, thinking how sweet it is that they all live so close together.

‘JK, the blue’s gonna have to go,’ Tae says to the baby of their group. He’s changed more than all of them; he still has his big eyes and his cute bunny teeth, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s so handsome, and his body is lean and tall. Not as tall as Namjoon, though; he always was tall, but he’s grown even more now, and he’s gorgeous, with his dimples and blond hair. It’s like only beautiful people are allowed in their friendship group.

‘What?’ Jungkook asks, confused, his eyes wide. ‘You need to dye your hair brown again,’ Tae says, Jungkook frowning. ‘Why? I’ve only been blue for a couple days. Don’t you like it?’ ‘It looks great, but we’re all going natural out of respect, for y/n’s funeral,’ Jimin says casually, Jungkook choking and Namjoon slapping his back with wide eyes. ‘Jimin. You can’t just drop it in like that,’ Hobi reprimands, but I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, I’d prefer if we just spoke about it normally. Anyway, you don’t have to go brown, Jungkook, it’s okay,’ I say, Jungkook nodding, still looking a little shell-shocked.

‘Can we get up now?’ I say to Hobi from where I’m lying on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with Jimin, and he shakes his head. ‘If you want to make a scrapbook, you can’t just have pictures of you and Jimin in it. You need to get pictures with all of us,’ he says simply, and I bite my tongue, knowing I’ll just have to suck it up. Twenty minutes later, I’ve taken several pictures with all of the boys, and it was a little fun, I guess. We’ll have run out of film by the end of the day at this rate.

But my head’s starting to hurt a little, and I know I can’t take anymore. ‘Can we stop now? I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ I say, sitting up, and they all look a little worried. ‘Is it from being under the sun for so long?’ Hobi asks, nervously, but Tae speaks before I can reply; ‘no, it’s probably the hair dye.’ Jimin looks at them both incredulously. ‘I think it’s the tumour in her brain,’ he says slowly, and I can’t help but share his exasperation at their stupid suggestions, the boys all falling into a shocked silence as Jimin looks to me with thinly-veiled amusement.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right, Jimin, it probably is,’ I say, holding back a laugh. ‘Do you want some painkillers?’ Tae asks weakly, and I smile, shaking my head. ‘I’m okay, thanks. I might just have a little lie-down, if that’s okay?’ I ask, Tae nodding straight away. ‘I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms and you can have a shower, or a nap, if you want?’ Tae suggests as Hobi and Jimin help me up, my head dizzy and light, and I nod. ‘That sounds perfect.’

I blink in the slices of soft sunlight that fall between the blinds onto the bed, sitting up carefully. My head feels a lot better after that nap, which was the best nap of my life, by the way. Tae and Joon must be seriously rich, because this bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. And the room is super lavish, monochrome and clean, with a deep carpet and expensive looking furnishings. The bathroom was nice too, and I dragged out my shower a lot longer than usual, my skin smelling fresh with Tae and Namjoon’s expensive passionfruit body wash.

I slowly climb out of the bed, looking at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite me. I still can’t get used to the hair, but it does look good. Tae has good taste, and he and Jimin put the dye in really well – the front sections of my hair are the perfect vibrant blonde. Tae put all these different haircare products in it after he washed out the dye, and it feels healthier than ever before. It’s obvious he’s dyed his hair plenty, because he’s clearly an expert. He could be a hairdresser if he wanted to.

I open my suitcase and get out a bralet to put on (my pyjamas are satin, and I’d rather not have my nipples visible through them in a room full of childhood friends I haven’t seen for years) and put it on beneath my black button-up pyjama shirt. I quickly splash some water over my face to wake myself up a little before I head downstairs, following the loud voices that lead me into the kitchen. Namjoon’s stood at the counter, making coffee, Jungkook, Jimin, Tae and Hobi sat around the breakfast bar with two new arrivals; Yoongi, and Seokjin. Seokjin literally hasn’t aged a day, and he’s somehow even more handsome than he was back then, with his plump lips and swept back dark hair.

‘Sleeping beauty awakes!’ Jimin exclaims when he sees me walk in, and I smile softly, still a little sleepy. His blond hair really does look good, the perfect summer colour, and Tae’s looks really good too – the dark brown locks make him look like a model. ‘y/n! They were right, you really are gorgeous!’ Jin exclaims, jumping up and pulling me into a hug, and I try to supress the embarrassment I’m feeling at them talking about me, and telling Jin I’m gorgeous. One thing I remember about Jin was that he never used to feel embarrassed, at anything. Sometimes he’d get a little shy, and his ears would go red, but he’d never hesitate to do something, even if it was embarrassing, if it would help to ease any awkwardness and make people feel comfortable.

His hugging me, despite us barely speaking when we went to school together and not having seen each other for years, is just what I need, and a perfect example of how kind Jin is.

‘Thanks, Jin, but look at you! You’re really handsome,’ I say honestly, feeling at ease after his hug, and he grins at me. ‘You didn’t call me handsome, y/n, but you called Tae and Jin handsome,’ Jimin pouts, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘She knows Tae and I are the best-looking, that’s why,’ Jin says, and Jimin scowls at him before looking back at me, still waiting for an answer. ‘Just because I didn’t say it out loud, doesn’t mean I didn’t think it,’ I say matter-of-factly, and he grins proudly. ‘What about the rest of us?’ Hobi asks, all of them flashing smiles at me, and I blink a few times. ‘You’re all handsome. Now stop smiling at me before I faint,’ I say, all of them laughing.

‘Coffee, y/n?’ Namjoon asks, but I shake my head. ‘I’m trying to cut down on my caffeine intake. Thanks, though,’ I say, and Jimin frowns. ‘y/n, it’s not like it matters,’ Jimin says, everyone wincing, and I laugh, nodding in agreement. ‘You’re right. I will have some, please, Namjoon,’ I say, everyone laughing again as Namjoon nods with a smile, getting another mug out for me. ‘Sit down, y/n,’ Tae says, patting the empty seat between him and Jungkook, and I sit in it, feeling a little self-conscious. I’m in my pyjamas, with no makeup and slight bedhead, and they’re all just… so handsome.

‘What do you guys do? For you all to be at home at… 5.38 on a Wednesday?’ I say, reading the time on the clock. I have all of the boys on social media, so I vaguely know some of what goes on in their lives, but not much. It’s hard to keep track of everyone from school. ‘Um, I own my own photography business. We do photography for weddings, parties, photo shoots, etc. and we’ve had some pretty high-profile clients, so we’re quite successful. And I do some art on the side, and some of my paintings have sold well, hence the fancy house. I get to work from home most of the time, because I mainly do editing – I’ve hired photographers, but I do a couple weddings here and there,’ Tae says, and I’m impressed, though not surprised. Tae always did have a talent for art, and he was the photographer for the school newspaper, so this career is perfect for him.

‘I own my own dance studio, and we only open on Monday and Tuesday 6-9, Thursday 3-6, and then Saturdays and Sundays,’ Hoseok says and, again, I’m not surprised; Hoseok always loved his dancing and he put more effort into dance than into his school work, but I guess it paid off.

‘I work for Hobi and Tae. I teach classes every day that it’s open, and then I do some photography work every couple weeks. And I do some shifts here and there at a tattoo shop,’ Jungkook says, and I think it’s really cute that he works for his friends, though I wonder if it sparks any arguments between them. I look at Jimin when Jungkook mentions the tattoo shop, and Jimin grins with a little nod, my stomach turning. Obviously, he was referring to where Jungkook works when he said he knew the perfect place for me to get a tattoo.

‘I do all the finances and admin and paperwork for Tae and Hobi, and I work for a small record label, producing and rapping,’ Namjoon says as he puts my coffee down in front of me, and I thank him with a smile, quite surprised to hear Namjoon’s career choice. To be fair, Namjoon excelled in all of his subjects, so he’d be good at whatever he chose to do.

‘I’m a part-time chef at this restaurant in the city, and I’m also studying to become an actor,’ Jin says, and I’m impressed. I didn’t know Jin was interested in cooking or in acting, but now that I look at him, he really does look like an actor, and I could imagine him as a chef too, with one of those big white hats.

‘I’m a barista, as you know, I teach a couple piano lessons a week, and I do some rapping and producing at the same company as Namjoon,’ Yoongi explains, and I remember how good he was at piano. He was chosen to play at one of these awards’ evenings we had at school, and we were all so impressed at how good he was. Rapping, though? I never knew he could rap.

Everyone looks at Jimin to answer, but he looks back blankly before saying, ‘I already told her my job.’ They all nod before looking back at me. ‘What do you do, y/n?’ Jin asks, and I roll my eyes. ‘I work part-time as an assistant at a law firm, and I’m studying to become a lawyer. Or I was anyway,’ I trail off, a little sad that I’ll never be able to do my dream job, and the boys all give me pitying looks. Except for Jimin, who says, ‘damn, y/n, you’re clever. Law student, huh?’ I nod with a smile, and he grins. ‘You could’ve got in on the family businesses, and done all the boring legal shit for us,’ Jimin says, and I grimace, internally endeared at him calling them the family businesses. ‘I’d have passed. Sorry,’ I say, the boys all laughing.

‘Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s carry on with your list,’ Jin says, picking it up from where it sits in the middle of the island, and I take a sip of my coffee. ‘Should I wash the chalk from your driveway?’ I ask Tae and Joon, and they both shake their heads. ‘I was about to, but Jin stopped me. He wants some pictures with you and the chalk,’ Tae says, and I let out a sigh, all them laughing. ‘We’ve literally spent all of our time on the chalk so far. Your four days are gonna fly by,’ I say to Jimin, who waves it off with an easy grin.

‘Stop trying to worry me. Four days is plenty. You go take some pictures with Jin, and Yoongi, while I set up the next thing for us to tick off,’ Jimin says, getting up and pulling me off my seat, pushing me towards the door. ‘Make sure you get plenty of good pictures,’ Jimin says to Tae with a mischievous glance at me, who nods, and I roll my eyes. ‘We’re gonna run out of film,’ I say, but Jimin shakes his head with a grin. ‘I went out whilst you were asleep and got some more supplies, including a few more boxes of film,’ he grins, and I let out a deep sigh as Tae and Jin drag me outside, Yoongi trailing behind, and Jimin waving at us from the doorway.

‘Done with your photoshoot?’ Jimin asks as we walk into the living room. ‘Yes, thank God,’ I say, throwing myself down onto the sofa. ‘Jin, you’re way too demanding. We were out there for forty-five minutes,’ Yoongi says, flopping down next to me, and Jin scowls at us from the doorway. ‘Tae wasn’t getting my angles!’ he exclaims, and Tae’s eyes widen. ‘You’re not blaming this on me. I own a photography business, so don’t accuse me of being a bad photographer,’ Tae says, Jin opening his mouth to speak, but Jimin interrupts; ‘don’t argue. y/n’s dying.’

They go silent, and I burst out laughing as Jimin grins at me. ‘You can’t drop that into every conversation, Jimin,’ I laugh, the others relaxing a little, and Jimin shrugs. ‘I can. Just watch. Anyway, before you get comfy, we need to go into the dining room,’ he says vaguely with a knowing grin, and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘I don’t want to, because of that look on your face,’ I say suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘Come on, y/n, we gotta tick the next thing off your list,’ Jimin says amusedly, holding a hand out to me, and I take it after a moment of hesitation, letting him pull me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand, dragging me behind him into the dining room, and it takes a little while for me to register what’s going on.

The table is set up with these different machines, and Jungkook sits at the table with an empty seat beside him, a lamp set up to cast a bright light onto the empty chair. And then I spot the little book on the table, sat beside a bunch of needles lined up on a small white sheet.

Jungkook’s about to give me a tattoo.

‘Oh, hell no,’ I say, turning around, but Jimin grabs me around the waist before I can walk away, picking me up and carrying me over to the door as I struggle around in his arms, the other boys watching amusedly. But Jimin’s freakishly strong, and my struggling doesn’t work. He puts me down in the empty chair, and I pout at him before looking around at the others. Tae, Jin and Yoongi are stood in one doorway, blocking it, and Namjoon and Hobi stand in the other, blocking that too. I literally cannot leave, and when I look down at the needles, my stomach turns.

‘Do you want to look through the book?’ Jungkook asks gently, and I sigh. ‘Not really,’ I say, all of them laughing as he hands me the book, and I flip through it. ‘Can you all stop looking at me? Or at least put on some music so I don’t feel so tense,’ I say, more laughter rippling around the room as Taehyung gets his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a couple times, gentle RnB music floating out into the room from the ceiling. They must have a built-in sound system – their house really is boujee.

I scan the book and some of the designs are cute, but none of them really stand out to me. ‘Struggling to choose one?’ Jungkook asks quietly, the others having conversations between themselves, and I nod. He rolls up his sleeve, and shows me the various tattoos that cover his arm and hand. He has a flower, a skeleton hand, the word ‘Truth’, the woozy emoji, a purple heart, a little crown and some black stripes with various numbers and letters on his hand. ‘They all stand for different things. Like, for example, this is the tiger flower, which is my birth flower, and the letters all stand for the guys. So you could get some that are meaningful to you, or you could just get something that you think looks pretty. It’s up to you,’ he says, and I nod, thinking.

I decide on getting my birth flower, a little bolt of lightning and my parents’ initials. ‘Why don’t you get something summer related?’ Jimin suggests softly, and I think before nodding. ‘Like… the sun, or something?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Whatever you want. You could get a picture or a quote, anything you want. It’s up to you, y/n. It’s your body,’ he says, and I nod, thinking about the first idea I had for a tattoo when I wrote that list. ‘How about ‘we’ll always have summer’… or is that silly?’ I ask, and Jungkook shakes his head straight away.

‘Of course it isn’t silly,’ he says, but Jimin looks at me thoughtfully. ‘Who’s we?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘I don’t know. A general ‘we’, I guess? Like… as bleak as life gets, as boring, as sad, as hard as life is, there’s always the hope, the promise, the excitement of summer. So no matter what happens, we’ll always have summer,’ I explain, Jungkook’s eyes widening, and Jimin nodding at me with a small smile. ‘Wow, that’s so deep, y/n. You’re so clever,’ Jungkook says, and I laugh, waving it off.

‘Have you decided yet?’ Hobi asks, and I nod, feeling a little nervous. ‘I’m getting my birth flower, a bolt of lightning, my parents’ initials, and ‘we’ll always have summer’. What do you think?’ I ask, and Hobi smiles, looking impressed. ‘You’re getting four?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Might as well.’ ‘Where do you want them?’ Jungkook asks, and I hesitate. ‘Where does it hurt least?’ ‘Your ass,’ Jimin says with a grin, and I swat at him whilst the others all laugh. ‘The least painful is usually your back, the outside of your arms, the inside of your forearm and the outsides of your thighs. Hands aren’t too bad, and nor are shoulders,’ Jungkook explains.

After a lot of deliberation, we make the decision as a group of where I should have them; birth flower on my inner forearm, my parents’ initials on my right ring finger, the lightning bolt on the side of my ribcage/side-boob, and the quote on the back of my left shoulder. ‘How long will it take, Jungkook?’ I ask as Jungkook sets up all his equipment, the others arguing about what we should have for dinner. ‘Please, call me JK, or Kook, or whatever. And, it shouldn’t take longer than a few hours, because they’re all quite small. The quote will take the longest, and I can usually do quotes in an hour and a half, so I’d say… three hours, maybe three and a half?’ he says, and I feel dread at the thought of being in pain for that long. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.

‘Are you still not done?’ Taehyung demands as he enters the room, Jungkook’s eyes still fixed on my finger as he sighs. ‘Relax, I’m doing the last one now. I’ll be done in a few minutes,’ he says, and Tae huffs. ‘You’re taking ages. We want to do the next thing on her list.’ ‘Don’t rush me, Tae. Tattooing is an art,’ Jungkook says calmly, Tae rolling his eyes from behind Jungkook’s back, and I hold back a laugh.

It actually wasn’t that painful, surprisingly. The worst thing was having to stay still for so long. He started with my birth flower, and it was fascinating to watch the ink appear on my skin, at first. The fascination soon wore off, and I was itching to move, but I knew I’d just ruin it if I did.

Then he moved onto the quote. I had to tie my hair up into a bun and sit backwards on a chair whilst he did it, and Jimin fed me some of the Chinese food they’d ordered, keeping me entertained with his stupid antics. Jin tried to feed Jungkook, but when he choked Jungkook with a chopstick, Jungkook decided he’d just eat afterwards.

And then he did my lightning bolt. I had to take off my top and unclasp my bra, holding it in place with my arm out of the way so Jungkook could get to my side-boob easily, and I told the boys that none of them could come in whilst he was doing that one, because the bra kept slipping. Jungkook was very professional though, and I can’t even imagine how many boobs he’s seen over his time working as a tattoo artist.

And now he’s doing my fingers. I’m used to the stinging pain now, and I’m very proud of myself for not crying. Tae shows me some funny videos on his phone whilst Jungkook carries on with the tattoo. ‘And… done!’ he exclaims, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. I look at my hand, pleased with how the tattoo looks. ‘Thank you, JK, it’s great.’ ‘No problem. Right… let me give you the aftercare speech,’ he says as he begins to put the weird jelly stuff and a bandage onto my finger. It’s weird how professional he is – I saw him passed out drunk at house parties more times than I can remember, and now he’s giving me tattoos and telling me how to look after them properly.

‘Don’t remove these bandages for 24 hours, and when you do, wash the tattoos, gently, with an unscented soap and water, and pat it dry afterwards. Put on some of this ointment twice a day, if you can, but you don’t need to put on another bandage. Wash them a few times a day, gently, with unscented soap and water, and always pat them dry, and then put on an unscented sensitive skin moisturiser. Obviously, you’re going to tick those things off your bucket list, and I’m sure a couple involve being in the water and sun. We usually advise against being in the water and sun, but obviously, you’re not going to do that, so just don’t be in the sun for too long, and put plasters over them when you go in the water, to try and stop them being infected. It’s not really that big of a deal if they do get infected because…’ ‘I’m dying anyway.’ ‘Yeah, that. So don’t worry about it too much, but just try your best to be careful with them. Oh, and don’t go into hot water, if you can help it. Have cool showers, and not for too long, either. I think that’s it, but if you have any questions, just get my number from Jimin and text or call me. Do you have any questions now?’

‘Only one; would you rather I transferred you the money, or do you want cash?’ ‘y/n, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not charging you,’ he says as though it’s obvious, and I frown. ‘Jungkook.’ ‘No, y/n, I’m not taking money from you.’ ‘Why not? I haven’t got anything else to spend it on, remember? And it’s taken you ages!’ ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not accepting any money from you, and that’s it. I do free tattoos for the boys all the time – Jimin’s got several from me. Just see it as a gift from an old friend,’ he says simply, with a grin, and I can’t help the small smile on my face. ‘Thank you, JK,’ I say, and he grins even wider, his cute little bunny teeth on display. ‘No problem, y/n.’

‘Are you done now? Can we move on to the next thing?’ Tae says excitedly, Jungkook nodding with a laugh at his eagerness. ‘Come on, then,’ Tae says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up, dragging me out of the dining room. He leads me towards the back door, pushing it open and moving aside to let me out first, and I gasp when I see the garden. ‘I know it’s not that big but it’s the best I could do,’ Jimin says as I slip on the sliders that he puts down on the floor in front of me, stepping out onto the light wood decking.

Tae and Namjoon’s garden is beautiful – it’s obvious at least one of the two loves gardening. The decking has steps down onto the grass which is healthy and neat, a dark, rich green, and there are trees and flowers of all different colours lining the light wood fence that runs around the garden. Fairy lights are strung up around the fence, casting a warm yellow glow across the space and there’s a fire pit in the middle of the garden, a small fire inside it with a garden furniture set placed around it, four armchairs and two two-seaters.

‘Oh, my God, this is great! Did you already have a fire pit?’ I ask Tae who shakes his head. ‘Jimin went out to buy one earlier,’ he says, and I look to Jimin with a frown. ‘You shouldn’t have. Let me give you the money for it,’ I say, and he shakes his head before I even finish speaking. ‘I don’t think so. Come on,’ he says, holding out an arm to me, and I take it with a begrudging smile. He leads me down the decking steps, across the grass to the bonfire and he sits down in an armchair as I sit in the two-seater beside it, Tae and JK following behind, the leftovers of the Chinese food in Jungkook’s hands.

‘Where are the others?’ I ask, and Jimin looks a little sheepish. ‘I, um, went to get supplies when you were sleeping, right? Well, I bought the fire pit, but I forgot all the other stuff,’ he explains, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I hold back a laugh. ‘What other stuff?’ I ask, just as Jin and Hobi appear through the back door. ‘The biscuits, the chocolate, the marshmallows, the roasting sticks. Everything else,’ Jin says exasperatedly, the two of them coming to join us.

‘Where are the other two?’ Tae asks as they take their seats, Jin taking a prawn cracker from Jungkook’s lap, the boy shooting him a dirty look. ‘Putting the stuff onto plates for us, because a couple of us are too messy and, apparently, we’ll drop melted marshmallows and chocolate onto the grass and ruin it,’ Hobi says with a roll of his eyes, and I have a feeling he’s quoting Namjoon. ‘Am I wrong, though? There’s still the patch of grass that’s discoloured after Jimin spilled beer on it!’ Namjoon exclaims, holding blankets in his arms, Yoongi following behind with a tray in his hands, paper plates atop the tray. ‘How many times do I have to apologise for ruining your grass before you forget?’ Jimin asks tiredly as Namjoon and Yoongi take their seats, and Namjoon gives him a hard look. ‘As many times as it takes for the grass to return to its proper colour,’ Namjoon says, and I can feel an argument brewing so I quickly change the subject.

‘Shall we get a picture?’ I ask, not realising that another argument is about to start, over who’s going to take the picture. ‘Oh, my God, we’ve been arguing for five minutes! Just let me take the picture!’ Yoongi exclaims (after five minutes of arguing), his annoyance only half-hearted, and I pout. ‘No, Yoongi, I want you in the picture. I want us all in the picture,’ I say, Jin sighing and grabbing his temples before sending Namjoon to ask their nice neighbour, Mr Lee. I feel bad for disturbing him at 9.09pm on a Wednesday, but they insist. It’s more than a little awkward when he starts asking questions and Jimin says with a grin, ‘we’re ticking off y/n’s summer bucket list because she’s got a brain tumour and she’s going to die in a week.’ It’s like he can’t take the pictures quick enough after that, practically sprinting out of the garden once he’s done.

Yoongi gives us all our plates, Jungkook balancing his on one knee whilst he eats his Chinese food, and I feel pretty stupid when all of them instantly know how to put their s’mores together. ‘Have you never had s’mores before?’ Jimin asks, and I shake my head sheepishly. ‘Here, let me show you. You gotta just put a marshmallow on a stick,’ he says, and I copy the way he spears it on the stick. ‘Then you hold it over the fire for a little while, until it goes a bit brown, and then turn it over the other way,’ he says, holding his stick over the fire, and I do the same, turning it the other way once it’s browned a little. ‘And then you get a piece of chocolate and put it on top of a biscuit. And then you put the marshmallow on top of that. And then you put a piece of chocolate on top of the marshmallow, and another biscuit on top of the chocolate. Then you take it off the stick and… you got your s’more!’ he says, holding his s’more up with a flourish. It looks a lot neater than mine, but I’m still proud of myself for managing to not set fire to anything. ‘Just wait a little for it to cool down. Kook learned that the hard way,’ Jimin says pointedly, the other boy pursing his lips embarrassedly as we all laugh.

The sky is still high and light with clouds, though the sun has disappeared over the horizon, the moon a pale white circle against the soft blue. The air is still warm, but not with the humidity of earlier today, a cool tinge to the breeze that glides across my skin. It’s the perfect summer evening, made even better by the light conversations we have and the alcohol that Taehyung brings out for us – Jimin, Yoongi and Jin drink their soju like it’s going out of fashion, Jungkook, Namjoon and Hobi nursing beers instead whilst Tae and I sip on our Malibu and coke (very little Malibu actually in it). The s’mores are amazing, the warm gooey marshmallow, rich melty chocolate and crunchy sweet biscuits a perfect combination – whoever came up with s’mores is an actual genius.

‘Do you want some more s’mores, y/n?’ Hobi asks once my plate is empty, and I groan, the boys all laughing. ‘I think I’ll explode if I have another. I’ve eaten more today than I have in the last week,’ I say, clutching my stomach. ‘I’ll have one, Hobi,’ Jungkook says with a cheeky grin, and Hobi shoots him a glare, no real venom in it. ‘Get yourself one.’ ‘You offered to y/n!’ ‘You’re not dying in a week,’ Hobi says, eyes instantly flitting to me to see if I mind, but I’m already bursting into laughter, my head falling onto Jin’s shoulder which is shaking from his laughter too.

‘Are we terrible for joking about death?’ Jungkook says once we’ve all calmed down, and I sigh. A cold breeze rushes past us, biting at my skin, and I shiver, pulling my blanket closer around me and shuffling forward in my seat so I sit closer to the bonfire. It’s gotten so much cooler so quickly, all of us wrapped up in blankets. ‘What can we do but joke about it? I think I’d cry if we didn’t,’ I say into the silence, the boys all just listening as I stare into the flickering flames, deeply inhaling the smoky scent in the air.

‘It still doesn’t feel real. How do you prepare yourself for death?’ I ask, voice a little shaky, and Jin puts a hand on my shoulder gently. ‘I wish we could tell you, y/n, and make it easier for you, but it will never be easy to see someone of your age die. Old people, who have lived their lives, they can prepare for death. I don’t think you can. And I’m sorry for that, I really am. We all are,’ he says softly, his kind words bringing a sad smile to my face. ‘Thank you. Thank you all, for doing all this today, and Namjoon and Taehyung, for opening your home to me,’ I say, all of them reflecting my sad smile back at me.

‘We’d have done it even if you weren’t dying, y/n. Please, don’t think we’re only doing this because you’re dying. We’ve all known each other since we were kids. And look at all you did for us. We���d have done all of this for you regardless of your health if you asked us to,’ Namjoon says, and I look at him in confusion, wondering what he means. ‘What did I do for all of you?’ ‘We were talking about this whilst you were asleep. Remember when I was riding my bike past your house, and I fell off it?’ Namjoon asks, the others laughing at the mention, and all of a sudden, a memory I didn’t even know I had appears in my mind.

We must’ve been around 7; I don’t remember what I was doing, but I saw Namjoon on the floor outside of my house through the window, clutching onto his knee with his bike beside him. I ran and got the plasters from where they were in one of the kitchen cupboards, and practically sprinted outside. I sat down on the floor beside Namjoon, and there were tears in his eyes, and his knee was bloody. Not knowing that you’re supposed to clean a cut and disinfect it, I’d just put a plaster on for him, and then my parents saw what was going on, and took Namjoon inside to properly clean the cut, me following them in with his bike in my arms, and then they phoned his mum to let her know what had happened. Our school was a tight knit community and all the parents were friends with each other – they all had each other’s phone numbers.

‘How do you remember that?’ I ask, smiling at the memory, and he grins. ‘It’s the first act of kindness I remember experiencing. And it might have been simple, but it taught me to be kind, and do things for people when I didn’t have to, because that’s what you did for me,’ he says, and then all of the boys share the stories of things I did for them over the years we went to school together.

For Jin, I’d lost one of his crayons and then I’d brought in a whole new pack for him. When his mum mentioned it to my parents and thanked them for buying Jin a new pack, they’d had been confused; they hadn’t bought a new set of crayons. I’d taken in one of my own sets for him without telling them. Jin brought it into school every day and shared it with me and only me, and wrote both of our names on the packaging so that everyone would know that they belonged to the both of us.

For Yoongi, I’d recorded his piano performance at the awards’ evening because I’d overheard his mum saying she’d forgotten her video camera at home and didn’t have a smart phone to record it on. I’d sent it to him that night, letting him know why I’d recorded it, and he’d thanked me before showing his mum. I never knew this at the time, but apparently she was so happy that she cried, and made Yoongi give me a present to thank me. I didn’t know that Yoongi was the one who put the thank you card in my locker with a necklace in it a couple weeks later – he’d been too shy to give it to me face to face (I’d been so confused, wondering who was thanking me and for what). I still wear the necklace sometimes – it’s a silver chain with a little butterfly pendant that rests between my collarbones.

For Hobi, I’d spotted a random bag in the school car park, and checked the belongings to see that it was Hobi’s – his wallet had been in there, along with a load of money and some dance clothes. I’d brought it in the next day and gave it to him, and he’d thanked me profusely. What I didn’t know at the time was that his mum had worked multiple jobs in order to fund his dancing, including buying him all that dance gear, and that he’d thought that someone would’ve stolen it all because they were worth a lot, as well as stealing his wallet. But instead, it’d been returned back to him, with everything still in there.

For Taehyung, I’d been the only one to say I liked his drawing, back when we were little kids. It was of a little alien cartoon character, with a heart shaped head (the same thing he’d been drawing in chalk on the driveway earlier), and everyone else laughed at him and called it silly and said it looked nothing like the real cartoon. But when I told him it was nice and that I thought it was really good, it made him want to draw it more, before he started drawing other things too, and his passion for art had been sparked, all because of a little compliment from me when we could barely write our names.

For Jungkook, I’d been helping clean Dahyun’s house after her house party, and I found him passed out in the upstairs bathroom. I got Dahyun to help me get him into my car, drove him home (I knew his address from a party he’d had once), used his house keys to get him in his house, helped him lie down on the sofa, forced him to drink some water and then left a note beside a full bottle of water to letting him know who’d dropped him off at home. And then I’d locked up after myself and posted the keys through the letterbox. His mum had phoned my parents the next day to thank me profusely, and brought over some cupcakes – they were amazing, by the way.

And for Jimin, maybe the most important of them all – I’d done my end-of-year presentation on eating disorders. We had to do the presentations for our language grade, to show that we could speak with fluency and precision and accuracy, and we were told to do it on an interesting topic so that we would be motivated to write an engaging presentation. Almost everyone else did theirs on superficial things, like their hobby or their favourite celebrity. Mine was one of the only serious ones. Everyone had praised mine – I always was good at language – and I got one of the highest two grades (Namjoon and I competed for the top of the class in every lesson we had together). But what I didn’t know was that, thanks to my presentation, Jimin realised he had an eating disorder. He was virtually starving himself, not eating for days at a time, whilst over exercising, because he hated the way his body looked. And because of the helplines and websites I put at the end of the presentation, he sought help, and spoke to his parents about it. He went to the doctor with his mother, and they put him on a diet plan to get him back to being healthy. I helped him to be healthy again.

My eyes are teary when Jimin finishes speaking. I’m so touched that he remembers, that they all remember the acts of kindness I did for them. And whilst Jimin’s was unintentional, it was still so important, and I’m proud of young me for deciding to do her presentation on a serious topic. I’m proud of her for being such a kind person all the time. This truly is karma – I did these nice things for them back then and they’re repaying that kindness back to me when I need it most. And then I realise why Jimin was so desperate to help me – he just wants to help me like I helped him.

‘So, really, y/n, don’t thank us. We owe you,’ Namjoon says, all of them nodding in agreement, and I beam at them, tears beginning to spill down my face. ‘Don’t cry, because you’ll make me cry!’ Jungkook shrieks, all of us laughing as Jin hands me a tissue, and I dab the tears away. ‘God, what’s wrong with me? I never cry this much usually,’ I say embarrassedly, and Jimin grins. ‘Don’t be embarrassed about crying. I think I’d have cried out all of the water in my body if I were you,’ Jimin says, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘Me, too,’ Jungkook says, sniffling a little, and we all burst into laughter when we see that his eyes are full of tears. ‘My God,’ Jin says, his lip curled up in mock disgust, ‘you really are a cry baby.’ ‘Can you blame me?’ Jungkook asks defensively, wiping his eyes, and Jin’s eyes widen. ‘Yes! You’re not the one dying!’ he exclaims, setting the rest of us off again, our laughter carrying in the cool summer air.

[baileypie-writes]

~My Thoughts on Wonderful Pretty Cure: Episodes 31-35~

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Episode 31 - Nyanfluencer Mayu:

This episode was really sweet!

I feel like Mayu’s backstory about her friend kind of came out of nowhere in previous episodes. However, it makes me feel better about it now that they’ve talked more about it.

Chiran is very similar to Mayu. Almost to the point where’s there’s no difference between them. So I wish they added more traits to her. But she was okay! I really liked her chinchilla too.

It was very sweet when they both apologized to each other, and finally made up. I also loved how Yuki was watching the whole time. She really cares about Mayu a lot.

Also, we finally got more content of babygirl Zakuro! She’s so beautiful and sassy. That’s pretty much my type when it comes to Precure villains.

My Rating for This Episode:

6/10 - D-

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Episode 32 - Favorite Animal at the Zoo:

When I tell you I squealed when I saw Sora on screen, I’m not joking.

My babies are back! I was so happy! I wanted to cry when I saw Tsubasa. I missed that boy so much! We also got a short shot of the Witchy girls. I’m a bit disappointed that we didn’t get any dialogue, but whatever.

We got even more Zakuro, so I’m happy. You can probably tell she’s my favorite villain.

Lastly, I was pretty disappointed that none of the other Pretty Cure helped out the Wonderful team in battle. I was really hoping they would. But what can you do? I’m still happy we got to see them!

My Rating for This Episode:

7/10 - C-

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Episode 33 - Full Animal Smile

I don’t have much to say about this episode at all.

It’s just more filler. But I did enjoy seeing more of Iroha’s hot dad- I MEAN-

But yeah. That’s all I have to say.

My Rating for This Episode:

2/10 - F

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Episode 34 - Cat, Cat, Cat Meeting:

This was a nice, Yuki focused episode!

I feel like she definitely feels some jealousy when it comes to Mayu’s dad. Which, by the way, why is everyone’s dad’s so hot in this anime? Lemme see Satoru’s dad next…

The cat meeting was super cute. I’ve never seen one in real life. I don’t live in an area with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. But I wish I could see one! I think Yuki’s definitely gonna keep participating from now on.

I enjoyed seeing Zakuro interact with the cats. Or, try to. It shows that she’s not all cruel, and that she really does care for all animals. Too bad they did not like her back though.

Lastly, I just wanna know who on Earth came up with the idea for the Kirarin Fox’s power? I can’t take it seriously at all. I mean, I just watched a giant cat toy with Cure Nyammy’s face on it for like two whole minutes.

My Rating for This Episode:

8/10 - B-

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Episode 35 - Operation: Satoru’s Love Confession

I was so excited for this episode. But it didn’t exactly play out how I wanted.

I fully expected that Satoru and Iroha wouldn’t get together in this episode. I didn’t even expect for the confession to happen at all. And it almost didn’t! Thanks for the save Mey Mey!

To be honest, I’m hoping for Satoru and Iroha to get together more than I’m hoping for Satoru to become a Cure. That probably sounds crazy. But we already got our first boy Cure. I want a canon, healthy relationship with no weird age gap! And Satoru and Iroha would look so cute together!

I’m both excited and scared for next episode. I’m glad they’re not gonna brush this under the rug, and that it’s going to be the focus of the episode. But it’s not clear how Iroha feels. She looks worried or confused. I just hope everything will turn out okay!

My Rating for This Episode:

8/10 - B-

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Overall Score for These Episodes:

62% - D-

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~~baileypie-writes

[crowbarstodd]

I Wouldn’t Hate A Romance With You (oneshot)

Thank you to the 130+ people who’ve followed me these last three or so weeks. And for all the appreciation so many of you have shown my pieces, especially Course Of Nature. This isn’t the most fluffy of fluffs, but I enjoyed writing it and it’s in Damian’s POV mostly!

Work Summary: Sometimes all you need to do is turn into a baby for all the unshared feelings to come out Word Count: 3,808 Rating: G Pairing: DAMINETTE

She hadn’t let go of his shirt since he picked her up half an hour, and at this point, he’s convinced she’ll keep it in her clutches until it eventually melts into her flesh and becomes one with her. Still, he’d gladly let her keep it as long is it kept her from crying. Again.

It was his fault, and Damian knew it, but he certainly wasn’t looking forward to explaining it all to Grayson. He considered keeping it--her a secret, but when she started teething on his sleeves, drooling freely all over his designer jacket, he knew he needed help. If he were honest he was desperate enough to accept assistance from anyone. Except Drake. (Todd wasn’t exactly an exciting candidate either, but Damian knew well enough that he was lacking in options.

Damian was lucky (or unlucky?) enough that the first bat he encountered was not one of his brothers. 

Brown jumped back as soon as she saw the toddler in his arms, staring at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. “What is that?”

Damian cleared his throat. She was hardly the worst person to encounter, but asking for her help… Every moment he’d called her ‘Fatgirl’ in the past seemed to jeer at his current self. All the hot wind he’d blown so cooly about being superior to her (which, he really was), and all the criticisms he’d hashed out. His pride was about to suffer. “It’s Ladybug.”

Silence followed his admission, heavy and awkward and made him feel like he was breathing in hot fog. 

Her brows furrowed, and he could see the gears shifting in her head. “Ladybug, as in the teen hero Ladybug? The one who’s definitely not…” She paused to examine the child carefully, pinching its cheeks with a small coo. Marinette didn’t seem to like it, blubbering hotly in response. “The one who’s not two, or-- or three? The one who’s--”

“I don’t need you to tell me who Ladybug is, Brown (“no names on the field!), I know exactly who she is. She was hit by some sort of de-aging ray. We apprehended the villain, but I’ve yet to locate a cure.”

“How long have you been looking?”

“Approximately thirty minutes.”

Brown smirked, tugging on the ends of her purple Batgirl cape, clearly delighted by his misfortune. “Half an hour? And you haven’t phoned a friend for help? Daddy bats isn’t gonna be happy, huh?”

Damian wrinkled his nose, readjusting his grip on Marinette as she mumbled by his ear. “For your information, Father is in Brazil.”

“I was talking about Nightwing, Robin.”

Damian humphed. 

Marinette began to wriggle in his grasp, pushing against his arms in an attempt to be set down. His grip on her tightened. There was no way he’d be letting a toddler out on Gotham’s roofs, especially not Marinette.

His struggle seemed to elicit some pity from the blonde Batgirl, as she pat his arm warmly. “Take her to my apartment, Rob, I’ll get Cass (“no names on the field.”) and we’ll look for a cure or something. If you’re lucky Signal or Bluebird might swing over and you can beg them to give you a hand.”

“We were at an alley in Grand Avenue. Across Dell’s Diner,” he told her. She repeated it under her breath, eyes focused as she tried to remember the place. When her blue eyes lit up, he knew he could trust her. He’d have to anyway. There was no way he could keep following empty trails with Marinette squirming in his hold.

Damian nodded his head in thanks, but it didn’t seem to be enough for Stephanie who swiped at his nose with her pointer finger. “What’s the magic words, Robin?”

He looked away from her, eyes sweeping across the dark clouds that kissed the rooftops of Gotham. “Thank you.”

She pat his head, an action he normally would have thrown a fit over, and leaped off the building, grappling across the city. 

Damian turned down to look at Marinette who’s large, round eyes were focused on his face. “Tami!” She squealed.

 He rolled his eyes at her, though his look was considerably softened by the pure joy in her face. “Say it with a ‘D,’ Marinette. Dami-an.” He cursed himself internally at having almost forgotten the second half of his own name because of the baby in his arms. He wasn’t going to start giving himself nicknames just because she couldn’t speak well currently.

His mother raised him to improve himself, hardly ever making an easy route for him. He grew up strong. He would do the same with Marinette for however long she was young. (Not because he wanted her to grow up strong too, he insisted to the voice in his head that said so. It was because he couldn’t handle weakness. Nothing more to it.)

“Tami!”

He huffed out a breath and swung to Brown’s apartment.

It was cleaner than he expected, barer too, but Brown’s bed had enough pillows to make it a safe place for him to put down Marinette. His left arm was a little sore from having to bear her weight for such a long time, but he didn’t have the energy to massage it, slumping down beside the crawling toddler. 

Young Marinette seemed to love food as much as her older self, but wasn’t quite yet able to discern what was and wasn’t edible. As soon as he’d placed her down she’d grabbed a pillow and promptly shoved it in her mouth, chewing at it lightly. 

“Take that out of your mouth at once!” He ordered, glaring at the child who did nothing to heed his words, simply blinking her bluebell eyes at him innocently. “Take it out!”

When she failed to move, he yanked it from her, setting it back down at the edge of the bed. Satisfied, he moved to sit back down only to notice her watering eyes and trembling lips. She was about to cry again.

“Please stop.”

“Waaahhhh!”

Damian groaned, walking past the toddler and to the fridge. Surely Brown had something kid-safe enough to feed the little cretin. Maybe if she had something in her mouth she’d be quiet. 

Brown’s fridge was full of packaged easy-make food and a sad bunch of bananas that he suspected a friend (surely not Drake as he lived on coffee alone) bought for her.

He took the bananas out, silently wondering why she refrigerated them (had Brown never seen Bananas before? Didn’t she know they were fine in the pantry or on the table? Had Pennyworth not bothered to teach her?), borrowing a spoon from a kitchen drawer, mashing the fruit dutifully. 

Marinette stopped crying as soon as she saw the spoon and bowl, eyes stuck on it, as if hypnotised. She opened her mouth before he even asked, letting him feed her without complaint. “Sorry,” he said, wiping the sides of her mouth, “you must have been hungry. Still, that pillow is for resting, not food. Understand?”

Marinette nodded her head well and truly ashamed, and Damian returned to feeding her. Young Marinette was a lot more reserved than her older self. While Ladybug’s company was sometimes appreciated, more often than not their argumentative natures would spark feuds that lasted for weeks. This young Marinette, with chubby cheeks and a tiny mouth intent only on eating, would probably not be fighting with him every other day or so. 

“It’s not very heroic of me to ask this, but you wouldn’t mind staying this way for a while longer would you? Your older self gives me headaches.”

“Ouch. Heataches hurt.” 

“Are ‘D’s’ that hard to say?”

“T?”

Damian snorted, swirling the silver spoon around the bland, yellow mash. “Sure, T.”

She ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, and by the time she was finished, Damian was starting to feel a little too comfortable talking to a toddler.

“We were really good friends once, you know?”

Interested, young Marinette crawled forward, placing her hands on his folded knees. “Who?”

“Your older self,” he said, not clarifying when she looked at him with bewilderment. “We were pretty good friends. I thought telling her I was Robin would let us be closer, I’d know she was Ladybug for a while by then. I suppose saving lives is divisive work because it drove us apart in the end. Too many disagreements.” 

Young Marinette raised her brows, sucking on the banana remnants on the spoon. “You look sat?”

Damian breathed in heavily, forcing a small smile on his face, forgetting any ideas about harshness and strength. This child would grow to be someone important to him. His mother helped him to grow up strong, but for the time he had Marinette as a child, he would help her grow up loved. “I think I miss her.”

Young Marinette yawned, effectively shattering the strange melancholy mood that had settled. Children were lucky that they couldn’t read the room yet. Ignorance was bliss, he supposed. “I guess I must be boring enough to put you to sleep,” he commented, nudging her to the center of the bed as she surrendered to the comfort of a full stomach and a lulling voice. Her older self was certainly the type to hurt herself rolling out of bed, and he’d hate for young Marinette to fall off and hurt herself.

“Take all the sleep you need,” he told her, and she seemed keen on listening to him for once. “Your older self barely sleeps these days, I think she’s competing with Drake on who can stay awake the longest. Sometimes I wish I could force her to go to bed.”

“An unstructured sleep-schedule isn’t conducive to her night job,” he added as if he needed to convince himself that his concern wasn’t completely selfless. Because it wasn’t. Ladybug was known to work with Robin, and really it’d reflect badly on him if she were to fall asleep on duty or something equally ridiculous. 

He brushed the short strands of navy hair away from the toddler’s face, capturing the moment in his mind. He had no excuse for that one. 

He didn’t like her, truly. She was argumentative and reckless, almost irrational at times with the most bizarre leaps in logic that made the most convoluted of plans (how they worked, he had no clue. It must have been a miracle of sorts.) And she was always angry, and passionate, and kind. 

There was a part of him that disliked her. Resentment that grew from disbelief and fear at how easy she made it for him to trust her. To appreciate her judgment and her presence. To feel guilty each time they argued. 

Damian wasn’t exactly sure what kind of person he was, but he would never call himself kind. Not when a word like that far better described the likes of Grayson, or Cain, or Thomas. 

Without his notice, his legs had unfurled, and his position had switched from sitting to lying beside the sleeping child.  

He let his eyes flutter shut.

His first thought when he woke up the next morning was that someone had forgotten to close the blinds. Light streamed through the curtains, illuminating his closed lids a faint orange-toned gray as the early morning sun rose. His arm around Marinette hadn’t moved at all last night, so he was sure she hadn’t slipped off Brown’s bed, only he noticed that the expanse of his palm no longer covered most of her back.

His eyes snapped open the same time as hers, and the two jumped away from each other, alarmed and just a little confused. Marinette had reverted back sometime during the night, and without his notice either. She didn’t look too surprised to be in Brown’s apartment, so she must spend an awful lot of time there.

That, or she remembered her time as a child. Based on the way her eyes scanned the room, stopping at the banana bowl, he guessed the latter was correct. 

“Well this is awkward,” she said, scratching the back of her head. Her arms seemed to stumble for something to do, finally resting on the bed-sheets and blanket. She was folding it rather meticulously he noticed. She must be pretty stressed.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked, a mix of curious and concerned.

She let out a stilted laugh that was breathy in quality. “Uh yeah actually. I um. Iremembereverything!”

As if saying it quickly would stop him from understanding. Damian had long since grown fluent in Marinette speak, and any stuttering or mumbling or weirdly voiced exclamations she let out, he was sure he would understand. 

That didn’t bode so well for him. 

Nerves hit him fast and hard like a speeding train had rammed straight in his chest. “Oh?” His stomach numbed and hurt at once, and he wondered if it was an appropriate time to stop the conversation to vomit. 

“Yeah, um. I didn’t get what you were saying at the time, but I do remember it. I guess I get it now.”

As it always did for him, panic turned into shame that boiled into a hot fury, and he had to hold his breath to stop himself from erupting like a volcano. “Whatever you’re remembering is probably wrong. I hardly doubt your brain is capable of forming a coherent thought as an adolescent anyway, let alone an infant.”

“I miss you too Damian.”

The magma of his wounded pride dissipated into steam. He didn’t have the confidence to say anything in response, or look her in the eye, so he simply folded his arms and looked to the side with a huff. 

He had heard her walk closer, but he hadn’t expected her to place a hand on his chin, forcing him to look straight at her. “I said I miss you too Damian.”

Her thin arms wound their way around him, and he melted a little at her touch. “Are you going to hug me back?” Her voice was muffled by his crumpled, drool-stained jacket, but he understood her well enough. Gladly, he complied, holding her in a welcome embrace.

It didn’t last long, he wasn’t the most comfortable with touch and she knew it.

“You don’t really act like you miss me.” He was being childish and he knew it, but he wanted to know why. Why she acted like she was always mad at him, and why they never talked anymore unless they were fighting. 

She laughed, surprising him. “I miss you. I guess I just get frustrated with you because I have all these expectations. In a way I guess I was mad at myself.”

He turned his head slightly to look at her. Examining the twitches of her lips and the small dimple that formed on her left cheek each time she grinned. “Mad at you for being so bad at taking care of yourself (he grunted at that one, hardly believing that little miss never-sleeps was saying that to him), and mad at myself for not being able to squash my feelings for you. It’s easier to push you away than get too attached and hurt myself. I guess I get mad at you because you can be real annyoing, but you already know that.”

“Feelings?” Damian questioned. His heart picked up in pace, going from a canter to a gallop and he was sure that if she said something akin to loathing he wouldn’t be able to handle the second train that would undoubtedly plummet him after. 

Marinette let out a burst of full-bellied laughter. The tinkling bells tickled his ears, and though he usually liked making her laugh until she snorted, he didn’t exactly enjoy being laughed at. “Damian for someone so perceptive you’re so dense.” She held his face in her hands, letting go of the blanket completely so that she could have his full attention.

“I’m only going to say this once, okay?”

He did his best to nod without displacing her touch. Her soft fingers left tingling sensations on his skin that had his cheeks burning and his lungs constricting. 

“Damian, I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She shook her head, letting go of his cheeks to finish setting Brown’s bed. He couldn’t help the disappointment that shot through him when her warm touch left, leaving cool wind in its place. “I mean that I like you romantically.”

Oh. Romantically. It was a little gruesome, but recently any fantasies of his future involved his own dead body crushed at a tragically young age. With the kind of lifestyle he lead, it couldn’t be helped. He hadn’t even considered romance, so absorbed in being Robin and fighting for justice that it seemed like such an irrelevant concept.

Only now Marinette wanted romance, and he was sure he felt something for her, but he wasn’t the romantic type. He was the type to yell at people when they beat him at Cheese Viking, and to push Todd off a rood when he was being irritating. He couldn’t romance.

“Relax, Damian. I can see you panicking--”

“You’re not even looking at me--”

“I can feel you panicking. I didn’t tell you that because I expected a response. I just wanted to get it off my chest so that maybe we could be friends again. We really don’t need to be anything more.”

The words slipped from his mouth before he could overthink and regret them. “What if I want to be more?”

Marinette turned away from the bed, the pillow she was fluffing slipped from her fingers as she turned to stare at Damian, completely shocked. “Seriously?”

Damian had no answer to that, feeling just as shocked as Marinette looked. “Well, I wouldn’t hate a romance with you.” Which was true, he really wouldn’t. As uncomfortable as it might make him in the beginning, he was sure he would enjoy her company. 

Marinette’s face fell, and Damian had an inkling he said something completely wrong. 

“Thanks, Damian, but uh. I don’t really think that’s a qualifier for wanting something more. I mean I wouldn’t hate a romance with Tim, but--”

Damian’s back straightened stiff. “Drake? You have feelings for Drake?” Suddenly, the thought of offing his older brother looked far more appealing than it did on normal days.

“No!” Marinette protested face screwed to look aghast. “I don’t have feelings for Tim. Nothing other than general appreciation I guess.”

Damian fumed. He appreciated Marinette completely, how she smiled, and how she thought on her feet, and here she was saying she liked him romantically but admitting she appreciated Drake too?

“So you like me and Drake.”

“I just said I don’t like Tim, Damian.”

“Well clearly you do, you just said you appreciate him.”

“In a general sense!” Marinette pursed her lips, wiping the sides of her face with her hands until they cupped her cheeks. They looked so nice Damian almost wanted to place his hands atop hers. “Damian, what do you think I mean when I say I appreciate Tim?”

Damian considered the question but tapped his foot impatiently. Now she wanted to rub it in his face or something. Maybe he should have pursued the romance with her after all. “Well I appreciate you,” he said. “So I recognise your worth wholly. Your mind, body, personality, and wellbeing are all incredibly valuable to me. Surely you know the meaning of appreciate?”

Marinette was glowing in a way he hadn’t seen her do before. If he was from further away he would have confused her for a star. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Damian you’re so stupid.”

“I resent that.”

“So you don’t hate the idea of a romance with me right?”

He nodded his head in confirmation, unsure of where she was leading their conversation.

“Would you say you like it?”

Would he? Well, they were probably going to have a tragic romance, one worse than Grayson and Gordon. Not like Grayson and Kory though, he’d never in his life be lured by infidelity, especially not when there wasn’t a person who could compete with Marinette. But besides the tragic ending, he might like spending the extra time with her. “I suppose,” he said. With more thought, he figured he might still enjoy it even with the tragic ending. Time with her was better than none at all.

“Well do you like the idea of me kissing you?”

Her lips were parted, inviting. Kissing was a romantic thing, and he’d learned enough from Grayson to know that it was really important to people. And if she wanted to do something like that with him then… “I wouldn’t mind.”

Her lips were as supple as they looked, pressing gently against his own. It was chaste and hardly heavy-handed enough to leave any taste of her on his lips, but the sensation lingered and filled him with a warmth he never knew. 

Oh. So this was what she meant when she called him stupid. There was no denying it now, that the pain in his stomach was undoubtedly those wretched butterflies Grayson had warned him about, and he really did like her. A lot. 

“What if I want more?” He repeated, this time quieter, gentler, and surer.

Marinette looked him in the eyes, searching for any uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“Well, I suppose I’d need another kiss to make up my mind.”

Marinette shoved him back by the shoulders, passing by him to wash the banana bowl in the sink. “This is what I meant when I said you were annoying!” She sang. There was no sting to her words, and even from behind, Damian could spot her bright red ears. 

In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

6:29am Brown: Hope ur awake. LB reverted back in the middle of the night, no cure necessary. Slept at Cas’ cos u looked tired. 

6:30am Brown: Hey maybe u can confess or smth

6:30am Brown:  Confess u like her i mean

6:30am Brown: Wait cass said u didnt know how u felt yet so ignore the last text lol

6:31am Me: A bit late.  

“What do you want for breakfast?” Marinette asked, rifling through Brown’s drawers. 

Damian took her hand in his, entwining their fingers. A trill rushed through him at the action, and he did his best to keep his cool, barely noticing how flustered Marinette had gotten too.

“Brown doesn’t exactly have a choice selection. The pancake mix wouldn’t be awful, however.”

They spent the rest of the morning squabbling as they usually did, though the usual heat was absent, and Damian thought that if the rest of his life was spent this way, well, he didn’t hate the idea of it.

End Notes: The ending was sort of abrupt but honestly I would’ve just never stopped if I didn’t wrap it up. I’m not the best at fluff, but I wrote it for all you guys!

100 isn’t exactly a big milestone, and I’m not the most popular, and certainly not the best MLxDC writer, but I’m just really happy that that many people have found something to enjoy with my writing. <3 <3

[sunsetcurve]

oh, we’re not promised tomorrow

Summary: They’d been twelve and sitting on the castle's rooftop at twilight, and he'd told her the story like he'd recited it by heart. His father had unknowingly killed a witch's familiar on a hunting trip. In retaliation, she'd placed a curse on him—his firstborn child would die before his twenty-first birthday. Henry’s parents had searched tirelessly for a cure, but the closest they could find was this: a crystal from Guardian Lake, which would protect him from harm until its magic ran out. 

This, it turns out, happens sooner than they thought it would.

Fandom: Henry Danger

Relationships: Henry Hart/Charlotte Page-Bolton

Word Count: 2,477

A/N: oh man, i’ve been sitting on this idea for way too long. this was incredibly fun to write, but also very very difficult because it does get pretty angsty. rated T for death, swearing, blood (it’s not graphic i promise). the title is from the song “like i’m gonna lose you”. hope you enjoy!

Dedications: as always, please please please don’t feel any pressure to read this! i know life gets crazy. also, if you want to be tagged/untagged in the future, just let me know! @rorythevambire @up-the-tube @mychenrymadness @ciara-knightly @cactus-con @henryhearts @henry-p-fart @taylorswiftrulestheworld @bijerbear @just-a-j-reallly @shadows-and-starlight

* * *

She should've seen this coming.

To be honest, Charlotte's never really been good at making predictions; that was always her mother's forte. She's tried to make sense of the wisping smoke in crystal balls and the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup more times than she can count, but it's only ever left her confused and frustrated.

Other types of magic actually make sense. There's a comforting sort of precision in having to memorize the pronunciation of a spell perfectly in order to get it to work, or having to carefully measure every ingredient in a potion to keep it from ending in total disaster (that's happened to Charlotte more than a few times, but she's always said that failure is the best learning tool anyway). But fortune-telling? Cards, astrology, dream-speak? She's never really understood it.

Still, though. There were other signs that pointed in this direction, ones that were far less mystical, far more real. She just didn't see them.

It's a collection of small things, really, clustered together in the past couple of weeks. They're moments that are easy to brush off at the time, especially with Henry's insistence that it's nothing, he's okay, he's always fine.

He comes back from knight training once with blood trailing from his nose, even though no one's laid a hand on him. He stumbles in the hallway and sways like he's going to pass out, and then brushes her off by saying he's just tired. He has dizzy spells, and she tells herself to believe him when he says that there's just "something going around", even though she hasn't seen it herself, even though none of the health potions she slips into his morning goblets seem to be working. He's fine, she convinces herself. They're isolated incidents. It's nothing.

And it's easy to pretend that's the truth, up until the moment his legs give out from underneath him.

"Henry!" Charlotte cries out, and her knees hit the stone floor just moments after his do. She puts her hand on his shoulder, steadying him, while the other comes up to cup his cheek and he's cold, cold like the crisp autumn air outside and the hard grey stone beneath them.

"I'm fine," he sort of says, sort of wheezes—his breath comes stumbling out in a tight, choked gasp, and then he's coughing and there's a splatter of scarlet in front of them.

Something in her chest clenches. "Bullshit," she hisses, and he coughs more in response and the pieces start to come into place and align like the planets and she hates it, wishes she could chalk this all up to something, anything else, but there's something thrumming in the back of her mind that knows she can't ignore it anymore.

"Show me your necklace." Her voice is soft but tight, more so than she intends it to be, and maybe that's why he doesn't argue, just fumbles with the leather cord around his neck and brings the pendant out from where it's tucked under his shirt.

She remembers the first day he'd shown it to her. They’d been twelve and sitting on the castle's rooftop at twilight, and he'd told her the story like he'd recited it by heart. His father had unknowingly killed a witch's familiar on a hunting trip. In retaliation, she'd placed a curse on him—his firstborn child would die before his twenty-first birthday. Henry’s parents had searched tirelessly for a cure, but the closest they could find was this: a crystal from Guardian Lake, which would protect him from harm until its magic ran out.

The white stone comes to rest next to his heart. A sharp inhale passes through Charlotte's lips, and she reaches out to brush her fingers against it while her heart plummets. The gem's soft glow has faded into nothing, and now it sits dull on the end of the necklace.

"The protection charm was supposed to last until you were eighteen," she says, quiet. "We were supposed to have more time."

Henry's laugh is mirthless, somewhere in between bitter and exhausted. "Yeah, I guess we're fresh out. Unless you've got a time spell hidden somewhere?"

There are three things that sorcerers are never supposed to tamper with: love, death, and time. She knows he's not asking, but right now, Charlotte thinks she'd break every rule if it meant saving him.

"Can you walk?" she says, urgent, and he lets her pull him to his feet and sort of staggers, but doesn't fall. She takes his hand and tugs him behind her, trying not to move too fast for him while her entire body tells her to go.

It's slow, too slow, but they make it down the hallway and reach her study and she helps Henry sit down in her chair as she starts tugging books off the shelves and rifling through the pages. With a wave of her hand, they float in the air around her, circling her as she scrambles through them one by one. She's been trying to decipher the solution to this stupid curse ever since the day he told her about it, so there's sections in her books that are marked off, places with notes scrawled in the margins. There's the haphazard beginnings of something that could've panned out, if only she'd had more time. She was supposed to have more time.

The tension is hot and stinging beneath her skin. She tosses novels behind her to fall to the floor, pages splayed open and bent against the ground and maybe in any other moment she'd care about the state of them but right now it doesn't matter. All she cares about is the fact that Henry's breathing is becoming more labored by the second, and she should've seen this coming and now there's no time to fix this—

"Char," he says softly behind her, and her hands quiver hard enough that all the floating books drop in a ring at her feet. "It's okay.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and whirls around before she can stop herself. "Don't say that!" she snaps. "There's nothing about this that's okay! You're not—I'm not going to let you die like this, Henry Hart, I'm not—"

"Look, it's over. There's nothing left." He sounds defeated. His gaze darts from the shelves to the ceiling, anywhere but to hers, and she wishes that he'd yell, or cry or scream or something, but instead he's just sitting there with his brown eyes huge and soft and resigned.

Her shoulders are tight, her jaw clenched so hard it hurts. "How can you be so calm about this?" she demands.

"Because I have to be!" he says sharply, and stands up unsteadily with his hands tugging through his hair, fingers mussing it up even further and tightening around the dusty gold locks. "Because I'm fucking terrified but I can't—I have to—I've had this curse on me since I was born, Char, and I've always known this was coming and I told myself that I wasn't gonna fall apart when it did, I can't do that—"

"There's still time," she presses, the desperation plain in her voice. "I can find something, we can still find a way—"

He looks at her with the tear tracks on his face glittering in the low light of the candles, and he reaches out a hand to take hers. "There's no way out of this," he says, and her chest tightens. "You know that."

"No." She tugs her hand away from his with her lungs and her eyes and her whole body burning, and she thinks maybe this is what it feels like when the world ends and all the stars fall from the sky.

She's crying, then, sobs that cascade out of her and shake her chest and Henry's arms are around her and they're both sinking slowly to the floor. His fingers are gentle as they tangle in her hair, and even like this, the irony of it isn't lost on her—he's the one dying, and yet he's holding her in his arms as she breaks. It's part of who Henry is, though; a guardian, a protector, with or without a suit of armor.

Fuck, she needs him here, she can't do this—

Henry takes a stuttering breath, and when Charlotte looks up his eyes are screwed shut, a crimson trickle coming from the corner of his mouth. "Char," he starts, all the steadiness from his tone slowly fading now, "I need you to...Piper, Jasper...my parents, Ray, and-and Schwoz..." he hesitates, and his eyelids flutter open and she wonders fleetingly when the colors became so dim. "Can you just tell them? Please?”

The words stick in her throat. His eyes are urgent, searching, but she can't, she can't accept that he's going to—no. "There's still time," she breathes again, and tries and tries and fails to hide the break in her voice as she helps him lay down and cards her fingers through his hair. "You can tell them yourself."

Charlotte reaches for the spellbook closest to her, rifles through it like somehow, it'll hold the key. There's a piece of her that knows it's useless, but she's doing her very fucking best to shove that piece down as far as possible. She doesn't need that right now. She doesn't need Henry looking at her like it's hopeless, like he's dead already, she doesn't need to cry anymore, what she needs is a cure. "There has to be a way," she says, mutters like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "There has to."

Henry's fingers brush against hers gently, lace themselves through the gaps. "It's okay," he breathes. "Char, it's gonna be okay."

"No, I can't lose you. Henry, you're my best friend, you're—you're everything, please, you can't—" He can't. She needs him. She can't do this without him; she needs his smile and his stupid jokes and his laugh that sounds like a clear summer day, she needs the way his eyes blaze when he's passionate about something and the kindness of his heart and she needs him here, with her, she can't—

The realization hits her at the same moment that his last breath leaves his body, and she thinks that this is the cruelest joke that fate could've played.

"I love you, Henry."

The words tumble from her lips to spill over the stone floor, and then she's breaking and breaking and the world around her is falling to pieces because he's gone and she loves him, she's always loved him she—

She loves him.

Holy shit, Charlotte loves Henry. And there's one thing that can break any curse, reverse any spell. There's one thing that breaks the laws of magic entirely and can even bring people back from the dead, one thing that can save him.

True love's kiss.

Her mind whirs. True love is rare, but more powerful than anything else. If this is it, then it could work. But only if Henry loves her back. Only if whatever they have between them is real.

Please, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut, wiping the tears away from her face. This is her last chance, her only chance, at bringing him back. If it doesn't work—

No. No time to dwell on that now; she shuts that possibility away in a mental box and tosses away the key. Charlotte has to believe this will work, or else the world will end all over again. She's going to get him back.

She takes a deep breath and leans over Henry, her fingers brushing against his cold, cold cheek, running through his soft, familiar hair. In that moment, she knows her feelings are true. She loves him. It’s just a question of whether he feels the same way.

"Come back to me, Hen," she breathes softly, and then slowly, gently, desperately, presses her lips to his.

There's a pause that makes her feel as though the universe is holding its breath. But there’s no gust of wind, no chorus of angels, no flash of light—for a moment, there’s just nothing.

Her lungs twist together, her throat closing up as it gets harder and harder to breathe. Please—

And then, "Char?"

Her breath catches as his eyelids flutter open. His brown eyes meet hers, full of color once again, and she feels a laugh bubble up in her throat and throws her arms around him as he pushes himself up.

"You're alive," she says into his shoulder, her hand tucking itself in between them so she can find his heartbeat and feel it thrumming softly in his chest. She follows its steady rhythm, reminding herself that he’s alive, that that’s his heart beating underneath her fingertips, that he’s okay.

"You did it," he laughs a little, that same sound like a clear summer day, and she grips him tighter and wonders if she'll ever get tired of hearing it. "How did you do it?"

There's a beat of hesitation, and then Charlotte pulls back a little, one arm still hooked over his shoulder and the other hand coming up to cup his cheek. It's warm, now, no trace of the chill left behind except the memory. She pauses, and then looks him in the eyes with an earnest gaze. "True love's kiss," she says.

He falters for a moment. His eyes search her expression, like he’s waiting for her to say she’s joking. “True love’s—you—you love me?"

"Idiot," she replies, with a fondness in her chest that she knows she'll never get rid of. "Yes, I love you, Henry Hart."

She'll remember the look on his face for years to come: he smiles like the fucking sun, bright and warm and beautiful, his eyes huge and flickering with light. "I love you too, Charlotte Page-Bolton," he breathes, and there's a moment that seems to Charlotte like the world is on hold, like the third rule of sorcery has been broken and time has stopped, and they just take it in.

"And," Henry says then, and his smile turns sly at the edges. "If you'll let me, I'd like to kiss you while I'm conscious this time."

Charlotte lifts an eyebrow. "On one condition," she replies swiftly, and his expression turns curious.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

She hooks a finger in his collar. "Don't ever. Die on me again."

"Deal," he says, and then shoves his lips against hers, and Charlotte runs her fingers through his hair and thinks fleetingly that they should stay like this forever. This time, it feels like she's the one coming to life all over again; it's bold and bright and wonderful, and honestly?

She can see why true love's kiss is so fucking magical.

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [6]: The Sparda Family Tree

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 6/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 6: The Sparda Family Tree, in which Nero learns about his grandparents and hatches a plan to get Kyrie back.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Nero sits on the stained carpet, his back against the foot of the bed. He stares out the window, watching the occasional set of headlights drive by on the highway. The room is dark except for the glow of the television, turned to a muted religious station, where a preacher silently rails against the evils of humanity. On the bed opposite, Vergil snoozes with the occasional soft snore; behind him, Dante is stretched out on the mattress, munching loudly on his fourth bag of chips.

He jumps when something lands with a crunch on his lap. Nero looks down to see a small bag of salt and vinegar potato chips on his thigh. "Eat some more, kid," Dante says.

"Not hungry." Nero puts the bag on the floor next to him and turns back to the window.

"Gotta keep up your strength," Dante warns.

"I said I'm not hungry."

Dante doesn't answer. A few more minutes tick by, and Nero starts to feel antsy. He takes out his cell phone and presses the power button, seeing that it isn't even five yet. But there is a voicemail, so he quickly hits the call button and listens.

To his disappointment, it's just Nico. "Kids are down, dishes done, and I'm going back to the garage," she says on the message. "You owe me."

He grumbles under his breath as he ends the call. "Anything good?" Dante asks.

"No. Just Nico saying the kids were fine," sighs Nero.

"You're pretty good with them."

Nero snorts. "They're just kids. It's not that hard."

"I don't know about that." He hears Dante shift on the bed and open up another bag, the cellophane crunching loudly in the quiet room. "Not like you had anyone to show you how."

He looks over his shoulder at Dante, who is propped up on one elbow as the other hand fishes in the bag. His gaze then slides to Vergil, also on his side, only his back visible to them. "Even if he was around, doesn't mean he'd be any good at it," Nero mutters.

"That's true. We had our dad for a while and look how well we turned out."

Nero shifts to the side so he can look at Dante. "So you did know Sparda then?"

"Sure." He wipes his fingers on the bag, making more crinkling sounds, and then tears open a candy bar. "He didn't disappear until we were six or seven, so we knew him… A bit, anyway."

"He disappeared?" Nero frowns. "I don't think you ever told me that."

Dante shrugs. "Well I guess I just did."

Nero listens to him chew for a moment before asking, "Do you know for certain he's dead?"

"I dunno," Dante replies through chocolate and nougat. "I mean, he didn't come back, and he let Mother die. So yeah, he's probably dead." They lock eyes, and Nero quickly looks away. "Why you ask?"

"Just thinking about what Lir said." Nero focuses on a spot on the carpet as he remembers the empath's words. "A demon related to me."

Dante sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Nah. Sparda was a lot of things, but this ain't one of them."

"But you just said you only knew him a bit," argues Nero.

Dante leans an elbow on his knee and points at Nero. "So you're suggesting a two-thousand-year-old demon, who has been missing for three decades, has come back to kidnap your girlfriend?"

Nero shrugs. "I don't know. It's possible, isn't it?"

"It's ludicrous." They both look over at the sound of Vergil's voice, and he rolls over to shoot them a disdainful look. "Sparda is gone. And he would not do something to harm you."

"How do you know?" Nero argues.

"Because he regarded family above all else," Vergil says simply.

Dante gives a laugh, shaking his head, and Nero looks between them in confusion. "If Sparda was such a family man, then why did he leave you?" he asks.

The question is meant innocently enough, Nero's curiosity getting the better of him and curing him of his aversion to saying more than three words to Vergil. But Vergil jumps to his feet and growls, "He didn't leave."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know. But he didn't leave." Vergil straightens his back, visibly trying to adjust his composure. "It's impossible. He loved our mother too much to just leave. Either he was killed, or something else stopped him from returning."

Nero feels an uncomfortable heat on his ears, and he glances at Dante. He feels a bit relieved that Dante does not look angry, but his head is bowed. "You guys never figured it out, did you?" Nero asks.

Dante huffs a laugh. "Never did. Tried for a while, but… nothing really to find." He looks up as Vergil sits on his own bed, and when they glance at one another, Nero is struck by how similar they are at that moment. "Suppose we should, one day."

"Maybe," Vergil replies. "Supposing you stop trying to kill me long enough."

"Me? Try to kill you?" Dante laughs. "I think you have that backwards, brother."

"I could help," Nero offers. They both turn at the same time, and Nero shrugs. "When this is over, and we get Kyrie back. I can help you look."

Vergil looks surprised, but Dante grins wide and leans over to pat him hard on the shoulder. "Sounds great! The Spardas on another road trip!"

"Yes, because this one is going so well," Vergil comments with a roll of his eyes.

Nero actually chuckles at that, rubbing the back of his head when Dante throws a bag of pretzels at him. "You never liked having fun. Even back then."

Vergil picks up the pretzels and throws them back at Dante, hitting him in the chest. "No, I just didn't like having fun with you. Mother and I did plenty of things together."

"Mama's boy," Dante teases as he rips open the bag and tilts his head back to dump the pretzels into his mouth.

Before it dissolves into an argument, Nero quickly asks, "What was Eva like?" Vergil frowns at him again, and Nero moves off the floor to sit at the end of Dante's bed. "I don't know anything about them at all."

Dante is still chewing, but Vergil looks visibly uncomfortable. Nero swallows thickly, wondering if he did the wrong thing, but then Vergil finally says, "She was lovely. Very beautiful and kind. Strong. Not unlike your Kyrie."

They look at one another for a long moment, and some of the worry that had simmered inside Nero begins to subside. He knows how difficult it can be to talk about the past, and it occurs to him that Vergil must feel just as badly about being abandoned as he does—more, possibly, since he actually knew his parents. Dante never seemed bothered, so Nero had assumed Vergil was the same way. Again he feels a wave of emotion as he thinks about them both being here in this awful motel room in the middle of the night, just for him, fighting demons and driving everywhere and having a dinner of stale potato chips, just to help him. Dante and Vergil are hardly the best family, but they are here, and that counts. Big time.

His cell phone rings, startling Nero out of his reflection. He pulls it out of his pocket and frowns to see how early it still is. The number is unfamiliar, but he swipes to accept the call. "Maybe it's the tow," he says as he lifts the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Nero?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, his heart plummeting at the sound of her voice. "Kyrie? Is that you?"

"Yes, Nero, I—"

"Where are you?"

The others are on their feet, crowding around him, but Nero waves them off. One of them turns on the light as he tries to listen. "I don't know," she says. "They gave me something to read to you."

"They?" Fury rapidly fills him, and the pictures of Kyrie hurt and scared that he had tried to ignore come back rapidly in his mind.

"Two men. I—" She is cut off and there is a muted yelp, followed by muffled sounds. "Kyrie!" Nero shouts. "Kyrie!"

Another voice answers, deep, sounding strange as if he is disguising it. "One moment. The young lady broke the rules, so we must remind her of her instructions."

Panic swells in Nero's throat as he shouts, "You hurt one fucking hair on her, I swear to god—"

"Nero, please listen." Kyrie's voice interrupts him, and he chokes back a curse when he hears her. She sounds a bit breathless, as if she had been crying, and there is a burning behind his eyes and in his throat at how soft she sounds. "I've not been harmed. They will return me to you in exchange for the fortune."

"The what?" Nero hisses. "What fortune?"

"They want the remainder of the family fortune. All of it." She sucks in a sharp breath and whispers, "I tried to tell them, there is none, but they—no!"

"Kyrie!"

More movements, then the second voice returns. "Be at the clock tower in the center of Fortuna in two days."

The phone goes dead, and Nero gasps. "Wait! Wait!" Frantically he presses the redial button, but all he gets is a busy tone. He tries again and again, but the number won't connect, and in his frustration he throws his phone across the room, where it breaks into pieces when it hits the wall. "Damn it! Fuck!"

"Nero." Dante's hand on his arm actually steadies him, even though Nero finds it hard to breathe. "What did they say?"

"They want the fortune. Family fortune." His lip trembles as he looks up at Dante. "I don't have a fortune! I don't even have…" He looks between the two brothers, blinking back tears. "Is there money? I saw, in Urizel's vision, that was your home, right?"

Dante shakes his head. "There is nothing. It's all gone."

"The house is gone, but what about the money?" Nero pulls away, his eyes darting between them. "You had to have money, so where is it?"

"We told you that our father disappeared," Vergil snaps. "How are we supposed to know?"

"What about Eva?" Nero demands. "Her family? Did she leave a will, anything like that?"

"She was killed by an army of demons who burned our home to the ground," Veril growls. "What do you think, we're sitting on a treasure chest of some sort? All of it is gone, including this fortune, if it ever even existed."

Nero feels dizzy, and stumbles over to the wall, holding himself up with his palms and pressing his forehead to the cool surface. His heart is beating fast, too fast, but the wall is cool on his burning skin.

Behind him, Dante asks, "What do a bunch of demons want with money anyway?"

"Money is power in this world," Vergil answers.

Clenching his fist, Nero pounds on the wall. "We need to get some then. They want a fortune, so we get one." He smiles, a plan forming in his mind. "We can rob a bank. Someplace with money. The three of us, if we devil trigger then nobody can stop us."

"Woah, slow down there, kid," Dante barks. "You're talking about breaking the law."

An idea hits him and he turns around eagerly. "I know! The Order. Or what's left of it. They have all that money, we just have to take it. We deserve it anyway, we suffered just as much if not more than the city. We saved the city!" He grins at Dante. "You and I saved the city. And it was all raised in Sparda's name, right? That makes it practically ours."

Nero frowns as Dante shakes his head and says, "Nah. I'm not above a lot of things but I'm not interested in stealing."

"It's not stealing," Nero growls. "Kyrie is only in this position because of the Order and what they did. If anyone deserves that money, it's us. And her."

"And then what?" Nero glances at Vergil, who folds his arms as he wears a very pointed and unamused expression. "You go and take the wealth this Order left. And you deliver it in a bag to these people? Don't you think someone will notice it's gone? And we have no guarantee they'll even give her back."

"I have to try!" he shouts. "I have to do something, because I promised I'd protect her, and they fucking have her! Don't you get it?" He storms over to the side of the room, where he had tossed his coat and his gun. "You know what? I don't need you. Either of you. I can do this myself."

He pushes past Dante, who steps up to stop him. "Wait a minute, Nero, we don't even have a car—"

"I'll use devil trigger. I can get back to Fortuna that way." He stops at the door, his hand on the knob. Once more his arm is glowing, the demon blood still under control beneath his flesh, but ready for his word. Using the demon powers like this is something he usually avoids at all cost; but if it will allow him to save Kyrie, so be it.

Nero takes a deep breath and glances over his shoulder. "You coming or not?"

The second the words leave his mouth, he already knows the answer. Having them both with him during this had felt good. But now their disapproval stings more than he could have guessed.

He looks first at Vergil, who regards him coldly. Even though Vergil is his father, Nero doesn't care what he thinks, and definitely doesn't care if he comes along. It is what he has been telling himself from the minute they returned from the demon realm, and Vergil had not raised the fuss he had expected of a father reuniting with his son. Better to just leave it, he had decided for himself, those months ago; after all, he had never needed Vergil's or anyone's approval to get by, and getting his support now means nothing. But somehow the disapproving stare hurts, and he grits his teeth against the wave of shame that fills him under Vergil's glare.

Dante is just as opposed, but his expression is more uneasy. Nero does care what he thinks, and he hates that, especially now when he knows that Dante's right. Their relationship is stronger, built with every monster and every can of beer and every bad joke, and had even survived Nero's anger at Dante for hiding the truth. In fact, Nero tries to remember a time when Dante didn't have his back, and fails, meaning this is the first time since they had met that he will truly be alone. He can feel his face burning, muttering a curse under his breath as he squeezes the doorknob. "Fine," he snaps.

He swings open the door and stops short. To his shock, Morrison is standing there, his brows raised, as Nero gapes at him. "What the hell?"

"Can I come in?" Morrison asks. He steps by and removes his hat without waiting for Nero to answer. "Took me a while to track you boys down. You left a mess on the interstate."

"Our mistake," Dante says. He folds his arms and asks, "What are you doing here?"

"I got something for you." He looks over his shoulder at Nero and jerks his chin. "You'll want to see this too."

The others move as Morrison walks to the television, but Nero remains frozen. Breathing deeply, he looks out into the night, dark and hidden beyond the glow from the motel. Kyrie is there, alive. But going now means going alone.

Nero looks down at his arm, the faint glow still pulsing beneath his skin. He can do it with this power, but does he want to?

"Nero."

He turns at Dante's voice. Dante nods at the television. "Come see this."

Morrison had attached a small device to the set, and warily Nero steps closer. "What is it?"

"It's Kyrie," Morrison says with a grim smile.

[ashtheshortstack]

Waiting for Your Curtain Call - ch 3

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter 3: You’ve Got Me Coming Back For More

Tags: Modern AU, Bodyguard AU, Popstar AU, KristAnna, human!Sven, Eventual Smut, Slowish Burn, Fluff, Bodyguard Kristoff, Popstar Anna, Popstar Elsa

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

Kristoff awoke the next morning to his phone full of notifications. It was his job to keep up with Anna on a daily basis—and maybe he took that part of the job too seriously—so, when she had posted on her social media apparently there was a ferocious reaction. 

  @annaarendelleofficial: Thank you all for your support during this trying time. I’m sorry I was unable to attend the charity concert last night, but my sister did an amazing job out there. I ask for time to myself while I figure this out… I hope you all understand. Love you all! 

  There was an all out battle of words between fans of Hans versus fans of Anna. Many of Hans’ fans were claiming the photo was being taken out of context, that everyone didn’t really know the truth. But Anna’s fans were arguing that if it was a fake then Anna wouldn’t have missed the concert. Which was true. And he couldn’t really blame Hans’ fans. They didn’t actually know him. Didn’t know his true nature. They were just a bunch of girls who liked cute singing guys. 

Anna was trending even more so with her quiet statement that morning. The outcry was mostly supportive. Kristoff often made a point not to feed the trolls, but sometimes there were some snide comments directed towards Anna--that she was inferior to Elsa or that she deserved Hans’ treatment somehow--those made his blood boil. The internet could truly be stupid sometimes. 

Hans hadn’t posted anything since the photo leaked. Comments on his last post from a day ago had a mixture of emotions. Some supported him while some called him a coward and a cheater. The latter comments were correct, of course. 

All Kristoff wanted to do was see Anna. Just to check on her. The Arendelles were supposed to have the day off, so he and Sven were technically off the clock. There were different security guards that protected their home on the daily. Sven and Kristoff were the travelling agents basically. If there was one thing Agnarr Arendelle took seriously, it was the protection of his daughters and home. Or it could just be about keeping a watchful eye on them at all times. Kristoff wasn’t sure if Agnarr really knew the difference. 

He showered and dressed before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Even if Agnarr was high maintenance, he did put Kristoff and Sven up in a nice place to live not far from the Arendelles’ mansion. When he made it into the kitchen, there was already a pot of coffee brewed on the counter. Kristoff poured a cup, adding in a bit of sugar before joining Sven at the table. 

“Hey, man. This whole mess with Hans is crazy, right?” Sven asked, glancing up from his phone. He must’ve been checking Twitter.

Nodding, Kristoff sighed. “Anna was devastated. She was crying so much and I--I wish there was more I could’ve done for her.” 

Sven grinned behind his mug. “Ah yes, you’re evening curing the heartbreak of one Anna Arendelle. Did you go for the comfort kiss?” he teased as he poured a bowl of cereal before adding the milk. 

“Sven! C’mon, that’s ridiculous. As much as I care for Anna, I would never want to be the rebound guy. Especially not Hans Westergaard’s.” 

Humming in agreement, Sven slurped down some cereal. “True that, man. I know Anna’s pretty update, but at least we don’t have to deal with that vermin anymore.” 

“True,” Kristoff sighed. “I feel guilty for being relieved.” 

“It’s not selfish to be happy that the girl you like is single. Especially since her boyfriend was a pain in your ass.” 

With another sip of coffee, Kristoff gave a small nod. Sven was right, of course. But it didn’t change how much he worried for Anna. All he wanted was her happiness and seeing her so upset the previous evening made his heartache. If he hated Hans before… he loathed the bastard now after he dared to use Anna like trash he could toss aside. Teeth clenching at the thought, he tried to calm himself. Getting angry at that bastard wouldn’t make Anna feel better. 

Kristoff stood quickly after finishing his coffee, setting his cup in the washer. Sven perked up, brows raising as he glanced at him. 

“What’re you doing? Aren’t you gonna eat?” 

“Not hungry,” he grumbled. 

Sven gave him a knowing glance before Kristoff went to the entry hall, grabbing the leather jacket from the coat rack. He slipped it on, grabbed his keys, and slammed the door behind him. There was no need for full leather chaps when he was just going five minutes down the road. Technically, he would walk to the Arendelle mansion, but he hadn’t gotten on his bike in a while. It’d be nice to have some change. 

Kristoff clicked the helmet beneath his chin and slipped on his shades before mounting his bike. He kicked the stand, cranking the handle, and took off towards the mansion. The wind whipped and hit his cheeks, but the breeze felt wonderful considering he’d felt so cooped up lately. It was nice to be free for once in a while. Not that he felt trapped by his job… Anna did make it worth it. Even if it was just her friendship. But he knew his job would be so much easier now that Hans was out of the picture. 

When he arrived, he gave a quick nod to the security guards at the entrance gates, and they let him in immediately. He kicked down the stand to his bike and hooked his helmet on the handle bar. Kristoff was let in the door by Kai, one of the house managers, who gave him a smile.  

“Good morning, Kristoff. You’re not on shift today,” Kai stated. 

Nodding, he pursed his lips and lifted his shades to his forehead. “I know. Just--I--After yesterday, I wanted to check in on Anna. She wasn’t in very good shape after the--you know.” 

“I understand,” he said with a slight smile. 

Kristoff made his way through the home. He started up the stairs only to be stopped by Iduna calling his name. 

“Kristoff! What’re you doing here? Isn’t it your off day?” 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he felt himself tense when he nodded. “Yeah, I just wanted to check on Anna.” 

God, he sure was having to tell that to a lot of people today. And anyone he told kept giving him the same smirk. It really boiled beneath his skin. Did everyone know something he didn’t? Or was he just that obvious? Or was it a combination of the two? Either way, it was beyond frustrating. 

“She’s actually with her father right now discussing some matters, but you can go wait in her room if you’d like.” 

Kristoff cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he replied with a curt nod. 

He did just that. When he opened the door to her room, he certainly didn’t expect to see the pile of tissues gathered on her mattress. Had she slept like that? There was a tightening in his chest at the thought of her crying herself to sleep over that bastard. Oh, how she deserved so much better. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he did some tidying up. He was sure the maid would appreciate not having to pick up the crispy snotted tissues. Kristoff tossed the tissues into the trash, made her bed, and chucked away the now empty ice cream tub. 

When Kristoff stood at the foot of her bed and looked over his handy work, his shoulders sagged. “God, am I really this whipped?” he muttered to himself. 

“Kristoff?” 

He quickly turned to see Anna standing in the doorway, her jaw slack and eyes wide at the sight of him. 

“Hey, Anna. How are you feeling today?” 

Blinking at him, she still seemed a bit stunned at his presence. “You--You came here to check on me?” 

He gave a noncommittal shrug and glanced away from her. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” 

Anna smiled, eyes softening at his words. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Kristoff.” 

“Me too,” he smirked. 

Striding across the room, she hopped onto her bed and patted the place beside her. Kristoff took the hint and slid on top of the covers next to her. Anna tugged her legs to her chest, hugging her arms around them. 

“Well, Hans texted me this morning.” 

Kristoff felt his chest tighten. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, some bull about it being a mistake and wanting me back,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. 

Scoffing, he shook his head at that. “Seriously?” 

“Oh, no, it gets better. When I said ‘no,’ obviously. He quickly changed his tune and tried to persuade me into fake dating so we could continue getting good publicity for one another. And again, I told him no. He really must think I’m an idiot, you know? It’s so stupid--ugh--anyway. So, then he decided to insult me, call me easy and desperate, and other insulting things. God, I’m so stupid. I was so wrong about him.” 

“Wait, he what?” 

“He’s an asshole, Kristoff, pay attention.” 

“No, no, no. I got that. He called you easy? ” 

“Yes.” 

The growl that left his lips wasn’t human. “That little--” 

“Hey,” she placed a gentle hand on his chest. “It’s okay. I know I was upset yesterday, and yeah, he hurt my feelings. But there’s so much better out there. This is just a set back. I’ll make it through. No use in crying any more tears over that prick, right?” 

Despite the rising anger heating in his gut, Kristoff took a long look at her calming demeanor. Seeing her a little more positive today helped him relax a little. He knew Anna was pretending to be okay. She was still hurting deep down. Her rambled excuses didn’t work on him. Kristoff knew her well enough. 

“You’re right… But it’s okay to be hurt. You don’t have to be so brave all of the time.” 

Anna’s face relaxed, her bottom lip quivering slightly. “Thank you, Kristoff. That means a lot.” 

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you have to suck this up and move on. You don’t, Anna. You’re allowed to hurt.” 

“I feel more stupid than hurt.” 

“You’re not stupid… Just new to love. Maybe that makes you a little naive,” he backtracked when she frowned. “I-I mean--Okay, maybe not naive. B-But that was your first relationship, and it’s okay that you didn’t know what it was supposed to be like.” 

Anna gave him a sideways glance. “What is it supposed to be like then?” 

He shrugged. “I-I don’t know. Like, uh, Ghost , I guess? You know how their love lasts even after death. When you care for someone else’s well being more than your own,” Kristoff murmured with a bitter smile. “A-And flowers and chocolates and all that,” he added. 

“I never took you for a romantic,” she teased while bumping his shoulder with her own. 

Kristoff laughed. “Y-Yeah, well…” he ruffled his hair nervously. “There’s a lot about me that people don’t know.” 

She hummed. “Will you tell me more, sometime?” 

“Uh, sure. I-I guess, I can do that. Sometime.” 

Anna’s smile was infectious. He couldn’t help but return the sentiment. She suddenly glanced away, chewing her bottom lip. “Uh--well--Papa is supposed to ask you and Sven this when you get back to work, but since you’re here I guess I could ask you myself?” she sucked in a breath. “Elsa and I are going on tour. Do you want to come?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to be my bodyguard on the road? I know that you live here in LA, so I can’t ask you to leave if you’re not up for it. But of course, you’ll be paid for extended hours and everything. I just--I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you and Sven.” 

Kristoff nodded quickly. “Yes, Anna, of course. I’d be happy to go on tour with you guys. Traveling the country and getting paid for it? Sign me up.” 

“Great! I’m so glad you’ll be coming along.” 

The door swinging open shocked them both, Elsa seemed equally as stunned to see Kristoff sitting on the bed beside Anna. She seemed out of breath, as if she’d rushed to her sister’s room. Elsa stood straighter, sighing. 

“Hey, Kristoff. Considering how calm you both are, I assume neither of you have checked Twitter?” 

Anna’s eyes went wide. “Oh, God.” 

Reluctantly, Kristoff pulled his phone from his pocket. He pulled up the app, and there on trending was Hans Westergaard once again. God, what now ? 

  @HansWestergaard: There are two sides to every story. Not everything is as it seems. Maybe, some people should take responsibility for their own actions and stop pretending to be a victim.

  Kristoff’s jaw clenched as he swallowed. Was this douche for real? Was he really trying to pass blame onto Anna? How ridiculous could he be!? That tweet was so loaded…

Anna sighed beside him. “Is this ever going to end? He got caught… the least he could do is try to apologize gracefully rather than pretend I did something wrong.” 

“You should post screenshots of the messages he sent you,” Kristoff suggested. If anything, that could prove Hans’ true nature. 

But Anna shook her head. “No, that’ll just cause more trouble. People will accuse me of editing them. I can’t do anything until there’s physical proof of how he treated me, and frankly, I’m not going to confront him anytime soon. This will blow over, right?” 

Agnarr pushed the door wider from behind Elsa. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is a PR nightmare, Anna.” 

“I’m sorry, Papa, it’s not like I wanted this.” 

“I know, I know,” he told her, voice hard. “Look, don’t say anything else about this. You two have a tour and a new album to focus on. And Anna, I’m sorry, but I can’t have anything like this happen again. No more boys for now, do you understand?” 

“What!? Papa, I’m an adult . You can’t ban me from dating!” she retorted as she hopped to her feet from the mattress. 

Agnarr scowled. “I mean it, Anna. This isn’t an open discussion. You will not date anyone.” 

“But Papa!” 

“No! That’s enough. I’ve said what I said as your father and manager. You will not be seeing anyone. It was a mistake to allow you to date that pompous boybander to begin with,” he hissed before slamming the door behind him, nearly smacking Elsa in the process. 

Well. Fuck.