#he did scribble my initial inside a heart and it was up in the department for weeks but at least he wasnt in my FACE about it!

[bendoodle]

If one more man in my workplace tries to ask me out i will set the whole place on fire, i don't care anymore. I can't keep doing this over and over. These fucking idiots want to get into the pants of a fucking NPC, the person they work with isn't REAL! THAT'S A MIRROR MADE TO BOUNCE BACK WHATEVER YOU THROW AT IT IN HOPE TO END THE INTERACTION SWIFTLY AND WITHOUT ANY ISSUE. THAT SIMULACRUM OF ME IS THERE TO MAKE MONEY AND THAT'S ALL! NO friendship! NO relationship! You DON'T get to know anything about me! you get a COWORKER! and that's IT!

[neko-rogers]

72 Hours

You only have 72 hours to detain Steve Rogers. He’s the only opportunity you can get to find out what happened and why half of the population mysteriously disappeared.

word count: 3,168

tags: eventual dark!steve rogers and non-con; however, none much in this chapter but plot and interaction

    Things escalated so quickly.

    Ever since half of the world population had suddenly disappeared, which left fewer people walking around the streets of Manhattan, your job had become stressful yet so useless. The rest of the investigative crew are close to giving up and adapting to what has been left.

    Meanwhile, here you were. Neither convinced nor ready to accept the fact that most of your friends and family have vanished.

    Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. By now, the withdrawal is coming close to a year and a half. Yet the clues you have gathered merely comprises for a month of effort.

    “You should be giving up on this already.” Two of your colleagues walk behind you, either of them comforting your bothered state by rubbing your back as a gesture to cheer up. The hint of hopelessness in their tone bothers you more than their initial intention.

    “I doubt you will be solving one of the biggest mysteries of the world yet,” they state with an implication of humor before pulling back. From the corner of your vision, you could see their jackets folded neatly and hung on top of their arms. Just as their uniforms remained pressed, it conveys that they were already prepared to check out of their shift.

    “But hey, if you do solve it, let us know. We’ll be more than supportive and grateful for your efforts, Agent.”

    “Thanks. I hope so,” your voice was soft, resisting to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability despite on the verge of breaking down on the inside.

    Within a few minutes, the office was left noiseless. Most of the officers who had day shifts proceeded to depart by the hour until you and two others have remained.

    For you, it did not matter whether you got paid for overtime from your original schedule. Since you did not have anyone to look forward to when coming home, you preferred to spend most of your hours at work, searching for a way to somehow bring them back.

    The chances were so odd and slim. The fact that all your families and friends near your location were wiped out. You could not do anything since you did not know who caused all this disaster, let alone the reasons behind the disappearances.

    As your elbows were resting on top of your desk, your head fell onto both your palms. A big sigh was released from your lips countless times already. This wasn’t just getting lonely anymore, you were obsessing over something that was far from your reach.

    The plain screensaver of the bureau’s logo was dancing over your desktop. Along with several pictures, specifically one or more for each member of the well-known extra-terrestrial fighting group of Avengers. Their superhero names were scribbled with red ink and pinned onto a small corkboard.

    Tony Stark.

    The name haunted you to your dreams. The billionaire who brought good and bad things into New York City.

     You are not entirely sure why your guts were forcing you to focus on this man amongst the rest of his alliance. But you were just desperate to cling onto any evidence blindly hanging in front of you.

    For the entirety of the event, you haven’t had a single report about him. Assuming that he’s been trying to hide from this mess, you tried contacting other bureaus from across the world in search of the man. For months of being very pushy, you have only been getting the same phrases like a broken record.

    ‘I’m sorry, Agent.’

    ‘No. We haven’t had any reports about Tony Stark.’

    ‘My crew has been trying their best, but there aren’t any traces of him.’

    ‘We assure you we’ll find him sooner or later, Agent.’

    ‘Please be patient, we don’t have much manpower here anymore.’

    For months, you have been at the edge of your seat. Eager to answer the phone at the first ring. If it’s not considered patient then soon enough it’s going to run out. You did not know what backup plan you have once that does happen though.

    Maybe going crazy would ironically be the sanest thing to happen.

    Nevertheless, you will eventually cross that bridge when you get there. For now, the only option you have is to overwork yourself to the edge of insanity.

    “A long day you got there, Agent?” A subordinate of yours passes by with two cups of coffee in her hand. She sets down the other right beside your computer screen and glances at the pictures splayed across your work area.

    You groan, a frown still evident as you sat up straight before replying, “Oh tell me about it, I’ve had the longest year.”

    She gave you a warm smile, like always around this time of evening. Though only being hired recently after a month of the mysterious disappearing arc, she continued to attend to her shift and adapt as the others would. And despite almost a year of greeting, and often bringing you a cup of coffee, you never really gave any of your attention to her.

    This time though, you looked back just as she was about to leave. You were quick enough to get a glance of her name plastered on her identification card connected to a lanyard that draped around her collar.

    Agent Maria Hill.

    “Agent Hill,” you addressed her. She turned around with a smile, looking neatly as ever with her hair combed and pinned in a neat bun.

    “Yes?”

    "Thanks for the coffee, like every night." Your gratitude combines with a warming smile that reaches out for her. Though appearing exhausted from staring at a screen and documents for hours, you tried to look your best when facing her.

    "It's no big deal." Her reply trails down to murmur a few indistinctive words that you merely brushed off, assuming that it was nothing but a nice gesture.

    Before her figure could entirely exit the vicinity of your workplace, you swiftly chirped, "And thanks for being so nice to me!" A chuckle was heard from her, leaving off with a smile as she walked away without responding anything in return.

    Immediately, your mood shifted again returning to your usual distressed state of mind.

    The coffee you drank earlier was wearing off from your system. You could drink the cup your colleague had offered, but you figured it could not do much now that your body could only harbor caffeine to such an extent. A twelve-hour shift with merely half an hour of lunch break would not leave you, or anyone, at best. By sooner, your eyelids were getting heavy, risking to doze off at work.

    Your fingers reached to move your mouse, dragging the cursor along with the useless mail your inbox has been receiving. Each of them took that least bit of hope of finding Stark, making you feel caged and haunted every day as there is not any progress in a year.

    Again, you groan, louder this time. Other agents around could have heard you yet shrugged your frustration casually since they have witnessed it for months. You ball your fists and slam it against your desk, rough enough to make a sound echo throughout the room, but not enough to break it into two.

    “Fuck, I need the rest,” you admit to yourself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    24 hours

    Days have passed. Like usual – nothing.

    As always, your routine started just as you were walking to the agency. However, amidst peacefully walking at the pavement, trying to get even a hint of peace of mind, the phone tucked inside the pocket of your jacket started ringing.

    The name of your agency was the first thing you have noticed as you faced the small screen. Moreover, you did not hesitate to slide the green phone button to answer.

    “Hel–”

    Just as you were about to offhandedly greet the person at the other line, they made their way to cut the conversation fearfully.

    “They found him! They found him, Agent!” The fearful yet impressed tone was evident, and eventually, you realized that the familiar voice belonged to Agent Hill.

    Nonetheless, your mind started wandering to different scenarios, jumping to conclusions like a kid. Despite barely hearing anything other than they caught someone, you were sure looking as joyful as ever. It was as if every bit of hope you lost each week have been restored.

    For a short while of daydreaming, you have recovered quickly. Moreover, inquire about the context of what she’s trying to refer to. “What do you mean you’ve found him, Hill?”

    Your heart raced quickly. The tension behind finding out who it was was far from the reality of it being a pause for mere seconds.

    Please say you have found Stark. Your mind could only pray harder for those words to be repeated from the other end of the call.

    “The team found one of the members of the Avengers,” she answers.

    “Which one of them?”

    “It’s Steve Rogers.”

    Your world partly crumbled after hearing a different name compared to what you were expecting. Nevertheless, happy enough that you were progressing on the vision you have laid out.

    “Hold on, I’ll be at the station in a few minutes.” You assert, turning around the corner of a street you were approaching. From here, there was a fair five-minute jog until your office. Considering that it was early morning, you did not hesitate to start speeding your pace.

    Right now, as if things escalated so quickly

    Once you arrived, you passed vacant offices until reaching the interrogation room. The other officers were gathered outside it, facing the two-way mirror that displayed the known Captain America.

    Maria Hill was standing closest to the mirror. Getting the best view of the super-soldier sitting peacefully inside the room. You approached her with a confused look upon your face.

    “How did you even find him?”

    “It’s a long story, there were two of them though we could only catch up with Mr. Rogers,” she explains.

    “Alright.” You motioned for your other colleagues to return to their original tasks. Both you and Agent Hill were left, given privacy to talk about what should be done.

    “Give me a moment with him, I’ll try to see what information we can get.” Agent Hill nods at you and hands over a folder. She gestures for you to take a step inside the room and reassures that she will be outside to act as a witness.

    As you enter the room, it felt colder in addition to the resentful stare coming from Captain America himself. His gaze does not leave you, following your trail up until you reach the metal chair and take a seat in front of him.

    Your back begins to sweat even after barely interacting with him. You did not know what could happen. For all you know, he could rip his handcuffs and beat your face over the table.

    Nonetheless, you tried to look as assertive as possible. Adjusting your posture to feel comfier in your seat and clasped both palms of your hands over each other. You look in front, seeing the man still staring at you.

    You took a deep breath to prepare yourself “Nice to see you in Manhattan again, Mr. Rogers.” Your voice was close to breaking, but you disregarded it. This is your nearest encounter with a superhero, so it would be normal for anyone to feel pressured.

    The soldier raises one eyebrow at your greeting. He pulls back and slumps on his chair, acting as if he’s the one probing the detainee. “Been keeping track of me, ma’am?”

    The tone of his voice instantly became cocky. Even so, smirking while his gaze shifts from the floor and back at you.

    “I have been keeping track of the Avengers for these past months,” you affirm. To prevent a boost of ego in his system, you also added, “But I wasn’t specifically keeping my eye on you, Captain.”  

    He imitates an offended look, placing one of his cuffed hands over his left chest. “Ouch. Was expecting a pretty woman like you tracking down America’s Golden Boy.”

    “Nonetheless, do tell me which one of us were you looking for. Is it Stark?” You tried to ignore his mood swings. The sudden change of being quiet, then proceeding to act hurt, and now seeming provoked even if you had not given any answers yet.

    You figured it was best to ignore his question.

    “Mr. Rogers, may I know what you were doing here in Manhattan and who you were with–”

    “I asked you a question first,” he reminds.

    “Look, sir, I don’t think it will help if I’m the one answering questions here,” you sigh. “So if you could please cooperate with us.”

    “Cooperate? Why would I?” He scoffs. “You can only detain me here for seventy-two hours at most. Considering that you have no evidence against me, you can only hope to pray for a miracle.”

    His attitude was not at all welcoming. Your blood started to boil at the man seated in front of you, acting as if he is completely innocent about all this.

    “Is it true that you aren’t withholding any information about the disappearance of half of the world population?” You argue with a brow raised at him.

    “I know nothing,” the man answers.

    “And if you do know something, that’s obstruction of justice. You know that right, Captain?”

    He smiles faintly. This time he breaks his stare, looking at the floor while answering, “Yes I do, ma’am. Very well.”

    His expressions were starting to drive you crazy. You were used to this kind of scenario back when things were normal. Though after the events transpired, it has been a year without you interrogating someone who was held inside this room. You’ve gotten subpar upon looking like an intimidating officer.

    “Okay then.” You nod, “Can you explain to me why you and your accomplice tried to run away from the cops.”

    “We didn’t,” he said, ever so boldly. “Your friend, over there, spotted us and tried to cuff us immediately. Which one of you thought that was a good idea?”

   Your gaze follows onto the large mirror placed near the door of the room. You could only see both you and Steve Rogers, but you knew Agent Hill was at the other side listening to your conversation.

    “Look, half of the population mysteriously disappeared,” you sigh in between, “it’s not something a normal person would be able to perform. Can you blame us for following up on the Avengers?”

    “I guess not then, ma’am.” He nods, accepting your statement. “Still won’t change the fact that I have no idea about all these disappearances, yeah?”

    “Right, then tell me who were you with before Agent Hill decided to detain you here.” You lean back while crossing both your arms against your chest. Your teeth lightly bit the insides of your cheeks as you tried to hold out a frustrated sigh.

    “Well, I was with Nat,”

    “Nat? Natasha Romanoff?” You raise your chin, intrigued to find out more. “Five-foot five, Russian assassin, shoulder-length vermillion hair, Natasha Romanoff?”

    “That’s impressively accurate.” Steve Rogers chuckles in front of you again before adding, “Except that she’s blonde now.”

    You tried to take in a few minutes to grasp the information. The silence prods through your thoughts as you analyze the possibilities, perceiving that maybe, just maybe, you’re a few steps closer to Tony Stark.

    But the man disrupted your thoughts, “Still don’t know why you’re holding us custody despite all this. You won’t get anything, might as well cut to the chase.”

    “You’re quite a smart-mouth there, Captain.”

    “And you’re quite eager to find about Stark, Agent,” he mocks. You throw your head back in defeat. This was going nowhere and both of you knew it.

    Instead, you push against the table so you could finally stand up. You rest both your palms flat against the cold metal table, arms stretched wide to balance your weight out.     “I think that’s enough for today.” You grab the untouched folder before turning to your side to walk towards the door. “Thank you for trying to cooperate with us, Mr. Rogers.”

    As you head out, you noticed that Agent Hill was already out of sight. She most likely headed to do her job rather than to stand and watch you and Steve exchange nonsense.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    As you get home, you dressed into casual home clothes and headed to bed.

    You could not entirely fall asleep. The super-soldier was stuck in your mind, frustrating you into the depths of it.

    You tried to ponder, grabbing the folder of compiled documents that Agent Hill handed you over earlier. As you opened it, the first layer of it was pictures of Steve Roger’s face throughout the week. You guessed that they were not just trailing him today, but also studied his moves for the past week.

    Furthermore, you flipped through pictures of him and his crew, but they looked like they were not in taken in New York. It was dark and the faces of Steve, Natasha, two other persons in the background could be seen fairly.

    “Huh.” You furrowed your eyebrows realizing that there were more details about them that you expected. For a while also wondering why Hill did not updated you about these at least.

    But eventually you acknowledged that you were so busy figuring out information about Tony Stark, that you forgot that the other superheroes he has worked with were just as significant.

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Sam Wilson.     Location: Edinburgh, Scottland     21:32. April 2018

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff.     Location: Manhattan, New York     13:05. October 2019

    His beard remained almost the same despite the year difference. His golden hair was brushed backed sleekly. His appearance was still alike a year ago which meant that he was trying to maintain that kind of appearance

    Compared to his clean, shaved aura back in 2012, you can admit that he looks way more intimidating now. You did not know whether he was trying to look different to prevent the bureau from recognizing him or if it was because he wanted to look like some creepy degenerate.

    Nonetheless, there were a lot of questions running around your mind. It was only tonight when you finally got to grasp on who and what you’re dealing with.

    However, your comprehensive scanning was interrupted after hearing a tap on your window. It did not sound as terrifying as it would, but it was loud enough to interrupt your thoughts from getting further.

    In the end, you set the files on top of your nightstand and switched on your lamp. You lay in your bed, eyes sealed shut yet your mind still wanders off, trying to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

    When drifting to sleep, the most evident question strayed:

    Why was Steve Rogers, and his team, staying in Manhattan, despite hiding completely undisturbed in Edinburgh?

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Sherlock BBC Mycroft                                        “Her Love”

Summary - Mycroft and you have always competed with one another since as early as university; you hated each other, but only on the outside. Life moved on as everyone separated into their own lives and jobs, but one particular day you meet him again. After a certain set of events, you end up rescuing him, and what happens after that is untold. 

Warnings - none, not sure

A/N - hola! second story from a break hope everyone is healthy and happy and chilling. Make sure to eat well, workout, and relax :) its literally summer! But anyways enjoy this story and send me some more requests as i am getting through them. (this one was a request and i loved it sm)

Years ago in University

You enter the Criminal Justice classroom and sit near the bottom of the high set of seats. You adjust yourself into a comfortable position and pull your books out. You hadn’t even opened one of them yet. You didn’t need to. After a handful of students walked in, the professor does too. 

“Good morning. How is everybody today?” The professor asked. He swiftly pulled out his papers and began scribbling on the board. The students mumbled a polite answer. You turned your head to the side and met the devilish grazing eyes of Mycroft Holmes. He eyed you suspiciously and you returned it, but quickly darted his eyes back to the front after a second of contact. You smiled and shook your head. He thought he was better than you, but he wasn’t, and he knew it. Even if he didn’t, you would constantly make him know. 

“Okay, a little different approach here today, class. You all recall that last case study we were working on, I assume? We touched up on it a few days ago. Refresh yourselves quickly on the complexity of the case. It continues today. I will be discussing and asking all of you questions. Remember, you’re the top of the top here.” 

You narrowly turned your head to glance at Mycroft. His attention was focused on the professor. He didn’t blink. 

“What was the intent of the murder?” The professor asked. 

“Maternal revenge,” you spat out, barely after the question was out of his mouth. The professor nodded at you and continued on. The class was a breeze. 

“What was the initial thought of the victim walking in the room?” 

“To arm himself yet not be disguised. He wanted to hide but only wished to in his mind. He chose to ponder about slowly to his demise,” Mycroft rapidly spoke. 

You rolled your eyes. After a dozen more questions that rotated between you and Mycroft, the class was over. You abruptly stood up and walked out of the classroom near the exit of the building. You heard Mycroft walking behind you. You didn’t speak or say anything to him. He walked outside with you and finally matched up to your speed. 

“You think you’re better than me.” Mycroft said. 

You laughed. “I am.” 

“You see that’s the problem. I am superior and I will always be. Just simply stop trying.” 

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

---Years Later-----

Your alarm not so peacefully woke you up from your tranquil slumber. You shifted your body closer to the side of your bed to read those bright red numbers you despised. 

6:00

You groaned, practically tripping over nonexistent items as you walked to your bathroom. You quickly brushed your teeth and pulled together your hair. Soft strands of hair rested over your shoulder. Feeling more awake, you hopped to your closet and ran your hands along the minimalist cashmere and silk clothes that you owned. You pulled out a a pair of black trousers and a cream colored blouse. You paired it with a black blazer. As you stepped infront of the long mirror in the corner of your room, your eye caught the morning sun’s reflection off the glass of your diplomas and recognitions. A silver heart for bravery was pinned to the wall next to glass encovered cases as well as colored ribbons signifying your criminal investigation awards. You smiled to yourself in the mirror. This was who you were. 

After applying a light wave of makeup over your features you slipped on a pair of dark heels and your purse. You skipped down the steps as if you were wearing sneakers and stepped near the curb to call for a cab. One came speeding by and you jumped in. 

“Manchester Station.” 

After a pleasant speedy drive halfway through the city of Manchester, the cab slowed down to a stop. You tipped the man and stepped out of the car, walking up to the long set of cream steps. You swiftly walked through the door, manuvering your body through the bustling people. You walked up the main steps to get to your office. As you walked down the hallway you glanced in one of the glass-walled offices. You saw one of your partners, James with a phone pressed up to his ear, lightly scribbling notes. He noticed you and offered a warm smile to which you returned. You passed a few other colleagues on your way to the office to whom you waved at. As soon as you opened your door you practically collapsed. As much as you loved being a detective, being in the office for a mere hour was enough to kill you. Being on the streets and in the action was what provided you with the vigor and stamina to which you live your life now. Picking yourself back up, you went over to your coffee machine and started a cup. A few seconds later, you heard a knock at your door accompanied with the sound of the door swinging open. You turned your head to see Paul and Lauren, another close colleague, standing there. 

“Deduce me!” They both shouted, giggling. This wasn’t a new thing. Multiple times a day they would ask you this. It felt good. You were born like this. You could tell them a thousand things they would never think twice about. You picked up your coffee and locked eyes with Paul. Your eyes moved down and up and left and right, absorbing and understanding his movements and attire and his face. The face told a lot. 

“You didn’t eat today. You were wearing a dark shirt but promptly changed it after a minute. You recently talked to your family; they are warm and welcome which is new and refreshing for you.” 

Paul scoffed. “Amazes me everytime.”

“My turn!” Lauren exclaimed.

You proceeded to look at her, but Lewis, the “head man” of your department suddenly walked in the door. His face was tense and his actions followed along. Your body stiffened and you were alert. 

“We’re going to London. Now.” He said, promptly rushing away. You swigged your coffee and walked out of the doorway. Paul and Lauren jogged to their offices. You caught Lewis running down the hallway. Something was wrong. Something was going on. You ran after him. 

“Lewis, when are we leaving? Why are we going to London?” You asked. 

He stopped momentarily and caught his breath. “Important case. The govenment. We’re leaving now. We’ll take my car. Paul will drive with Lauren. We need to go now. It’s at least a 4 hour drive.” He grabbed your arm lightly and you ran off with him. 

“Why do they ask for us?”

Lewis chuckled. “For you mainly. Like I said, hard case, but not a challenging one. One that requires only the intelligent.” 

You couldn’t believe it. You ran down the steps and hopped into the shotgun seat of Lewis’s car. He ran inside and ignited the key, promptly speeding away. Thoughts rushed through your head quickly. You’ve only been in England for a few years yet you have never been to London. Why, you ask? You didn’t have the slightest clue. 

Lewis sped at least ten miles above the speed limit on the highway, causing your heart to race out of excitement. You could just taste it. 

“Did you get any case background?” You asked. 

Lewis shook his head. “It’s highly contained. From my time here, I’m only guessing its something technological.” 

“Linked with something physical.” You said. 

He nodded. “You’ll do it. You’re the best we have. The best anyone would have.” 

You smiled at him. You weren’t nervous, you were ready. It was about time. 

3 hours later from excessive speeding 

Lewis’s car stopped in front of an immensely tall building covered with blue glass windows. You had no idea what this was. Secret Service? Most likely. 

You walked with Lewis to the front door and met a plethora of guards. You both showed your badges and after a few phone calls made from the guards and nodds of respect, you walked inside. The inside was captivating. Everything was modernized and the surfaces reflective. Tall, powerful figures moved about. Lewis and you walked up the main steps.

“They’re meeting us on the second floor. I wouldn’t be so sure where.” He said, turning left and right. 

You knew where from looking at the room. “In here. Should we wait?” 

“No need to.” A stern voice said from behind you and Lewis. You turned your head and gazed up to a young tall man. His eyes were tired but his spirit was strong. He was a lower tier colleague of almost no status.

“It’s over here,” he said, leading you to the next hallway over. The flooring plan suddenly changed and led up to an even larger glass room full of guards on each corner of the premicise. The man walked up to the door and opened it for you and Lewis. You walked inside, eyeing every single thing you could. You saw four men and an older woman standing near the window, holding papers and chattering visciously. 

The man who just led you in coughed and everyone turned around. A short man burst out from the group and said, “We’ve been expecting you. We apologize for the short notice. I’m sure you understand the gravity of the situation.” 

“We understand. We know you couldn’t provide the information over phone. Everything is as planned.” Lewis said. 

The man looked worried and nodded to him. He turned his attention to you. When he did so, his face untensed and his eyes relaxed. He held out his hand to you. 

“You, Miss, we’ve heard nothing but good.”

You shook his hand and he quickly cut loose from the courtesy. 

“We must get to the case. Please, sit down.” He motioned. The four other people sat around the table and you sat next to Lewis on one side. The head of the table was missing. The chair, idle. You wondered who sat there. 

“There’s professional hacking done. Televisions abruptly stopping and transferring to messages. Murders....with......banks......robbing......aquiesced with no hesitation.........killers............terrorists...”

You zoned in and out of the words being spoken. You had the whole concept down in about two minutes. The rest wasn’t vital information for you. 

The short man faced you. “We need you to crack codes and primarily investigate a mansion in the countryside. He worked for the govenrment, he was up here. Killed. I’m sure it will take you time to understand why and how he was murdered, but you have time.” 

You tried not to scoff. You could get it done without even being there. They underestimate you. 

“(Y/N), is good at this. She’s a star in computer programming. Give her any computer, she’ll have all the codes and passwords lied out for you in minutes.” Lewis said. 

“I understand that. However actions are key here. There was a reason we called you. Lewis, you’ll stick with our management and analysis now. I see you have two other detectives, they can branch out to the banks and such with our other teams.” 

Suddenly the large glass doors swung open. You didn’t turn around to look, but you knew it was the head of the table, whoever that was.” 

“Sir, I ran through the prerequisites and plan with them. We start today with this team.” The man said. You looked down at your legs and across to the window, endlessly bored. 

“Yes, you told me who you would bring. A girl? You insisted she was....good? I didn’t get a chance to read over the folder.” 

That voice sounded familiar

“Why, yes, Mr. Holmes, she’s right here. (Y/N).” 

Your heart dropped. You knew that name. You whipped your head to the head of the table and met the surprised eyes of Mycroft Holmes. You locked eyes, trying to understand. 

“Mr. Holmes, (Y/N), is everything....?” The man asked. 

“Everything is well, Thomas. I personally knew (Y/N) a handful of years ago. University.” He said. 

You smiled and nodded your head. 

“Right, now, we must all leave now. I have teams on numerous locations already.” He said, abruptly standing up. Everyone else rushed up and followed him out of the door. You couldn’t believe he was here. The head of this. The mastermind. You almost forgot about him, but you never forget intelligence. 

You rushed out of the room to find him walking down the hall with two others. One was frantically talking into the phone. You walked up to Mycroft’s side. 

“Where am I going?” You asked. 

“With us. Helicopter pad is a floor up.” 

You smirked, reading him and his actions. “You remember me?” You asked, looking up at him. He looked down at you and for a moment you knew he wanted to “intelligently insult” you, as both of you did in university before, but he smiled at you. 

“Only the smartest I recall. You’re with us now. This will be a challenge for you.” He said. You skipped up the steps to the roof with him. 

“I’ll be okay.” You said. 

Mycroft stepped aside for you to enter the helicopter. He sat next to you and fixed his head gear. You placed your headsets on and Mycroft gave a signal for the pilots to go. You’ve only been inside a helicopter a few times and each time you enjoyed the rush and looking down upon the city and countryside from afar.  

Mycroft tapped your arm and motioned to look at his window. You moved over to his side and looked down on the ground. 

“This is the countryside. The man who we’re investigating lives...right there,” he said, pointing to a charming large cream colored mansion. Well manicured bushes and trees surrounded it. You quickly took in all the visible exits and windows and doors. 

“How did someone get inside with all of that security?” You asked, raising your voice to shield against the loudness of the helicopter. 

He looked at you, but didn’t speak. “That’s what we must figure out. The answers are there, but not in plainsight.” 

The helicopter began lowering and then softly landed on the grass, causing ripples through the field. You took your headsets off and hopped out after Mycroft. He waited for you by his side and began walking to the back door. 

He turned his body towards you and stopped, pulling something out of his pocket. A gun. 

“You might need this. Preparation. You know the deal.” He handed it to you. You stuffed it in your waistline hook. Mycroft opened the door and walked inside with you. Naturally, you scanned the proximities and let your mind do the thinking. After walking a few feet you gained a handful of valuable information from this. He continued into a grand lobby area and there on the ground near the main steps lay a body. You quickly walked up to it and intricately studied it. Nothing hit your mind initially, but you felt something coming. 

“Shot in the chest. Took him out after a few minutes of heavy bleeding.” Mycroft said. 

“He was dying before that.” 

“What?” 

“Poison. Intentional.”

“Who did this?” 

You thought hard and looked everywhere and anywhere. You knew this. 

“He didn’t know them. A man. Young. He wore a biohazard suit and dealt with chemicals. He became terrified so he shot him.” 

Mycroft folded his arms, still standing. “What was he going to do?” 

“I can’t be certain, but probably something with acid.” 

He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I think you’re right. We’ll go through the house and examine more. When we’re done I’ll jot down all the evidence that you have about it.” He began walking up the steps. You ran up to him. 

“What have you been up to?” You asked him. 

He looked startled to hear the question, but accepted it. “Just being here and doing my job.” He was awkward like that. 

“You like commanding people. I know that.” 

He blushed and hung his head. “I know you do too.” 

You laughed. “To an extent. This is my first time in London. I never knew about you. You seem important.” 

He smiled. “I am.” Mycroft walked in a large bedroom, examining it. You walked to the other side of the house, going in and out of rooms, trying to make more sense of everything. You heard Mycroft mumbling on the phone. He changed a lot and certainly became more mature. Initially, you doubted it was even him. You bent down and looked under beds, carpets, inside drawers and desks and closets. Nothing was alarming too you. 

Slam 

You stopped in your tracks and kept silent. You heard a door hardly slam from the other side of the house where Mycroft was. Something was wrong. You quietly stepped into the hallway and walked slowly across to the door. As you grew nearer, you heard shuffling and a low voice. 

Your heart dropped. Someone was nearby. You didn’t speak, but you placed your hands on the door knob, slowly turning it open. You swiftly moved your body through the narrow opening and bent down next to the wall to listen. You had your hand on your gun, prepared.

Then you heard someone else’s gun click. 

You knew someone had Mycroft. Slowly, you crept your head near the corner to see. You pulled your gun out and slowly peeked your head out. There he was, a stranger, standing above Mycroft with a gun pointed at him and blood running from his head. He suddenly looked at you and shot in your direction. You ducked down and came out of hiding, effortlessly shooting at the man. You aimed for his head and squinted your eyes involuntarily. You rolled around on the floor, barely missing his shots. After your first miss, you shot a bullet directly in his head. He fell down. 

You ran to Mycroft and took his hands. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, squeezing his hands. 

He nodded. “You saved my life.” 

You smiled. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

He shook his head. “Thank you.” You locked eyes with him and shared a moment of pleasantness. It gave you time to think and look at how much he changed. Never would you ever think in many years to come that you would save your past rivalry. You shifted your focus over to the body lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. Mycroft noticed your dismay and touched your shoulder, offering you comfort. 

“We should leave.” He said. “I think this case is closed.” 

He stood up and walked out with you. “I hear you’re good with computers.” 

You stepped inside a bathroom and grabbed a small town on a hanger and threw it to Mycroft for his head. “More or less. I can teach you some things.” You walked down the steps with him and across the long lobby. He put his arm around your shoulders and you grabbed his hand, enjoying the moment. 

“We should catch up.” He said. 

“Dinner tonight?” 

“Couldn’t be any better.” 

[lordseochangbin]

Bad News 

Smut, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: “Badboy” Lee Minho x Aspiring Writer

A/N: So I honestly didn’t want to publish this 4.1k baby because it’s so long but I had so much fun writing it LMAOO so when I finished I was like hmph why not :D After reading it again I realized it actually goes by pretty quickly so enjoyyy

----

Scribble. Scribble. Scribble. 

So annoying.

You’re jotting down every note from this man, this doctor who claims that if humans eat raisins it will save their life from any harm. Evidence? Bullshit. But I suppose that’s what you have to do in order to get into Yale’s English department. Sir Lordseochangbin expects nothing but a good story and you already know he’s going to throw this one in the trash. Just like the others. 

“... and so the texture of the raisin is very particular. Every ridge is filled with yum but it is also the color, OH the color! The color of the raisin is magnificent! People may mistake the raisin as a cat's disposal however…” 

“Doctor!” you get up from your seat, closing your notebook and showing a fake smile of happiness to leave and resent of the wasted time. “I believe we should wrap this up, thank you for your time!” You tell him, shaking his hand before quickly running off. 

“Take care!” 

You enter the busy room full of books and posters. Had you never done your research on the professor behind the English department, you would’ve guessed this was some 17 year old fangirl obsessed with some hotshot korean rapper. Pictures of the man were everywhere and you couldn’t help but to cringe, was he obsessed with himself or something?

He’s sitting on a comfortable chair with a mirror in his hands, his fingers forming the classic ‘peace’ sign as he giggles in a cute voice “Mmhpm! Cute binnie! I’m cute binnie!” 

You literally want to gag in your throat but okay. “L-lordseochangbin? Lord? Are you there?”

“Oh fuck” you hear in his normal voice as he slides the mirror under the desk and straightens his shirt. 

“Ahem. Y/n, how can I help you?” You take a breath of relief to see him back to his old self before handing him your notes.

“I got a story, just wanted to know your opinion” you said with a grin. 

He grabs the pack of papers out of your hands and looks at the first page. “How one doctor is raisin-g awareness about the new way to save lives” He reads in monotone before tossing your work on the floor. 

Your heart is pulsing and your hands are fidgeting. This is fucking stupid. You don’t need Yale. Fuck it. Can’t deal with this stupid conceiting motherf-

“Y/n… sit down.” he takes a sharp breath before grabbing the mirror out the floor. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at myself?”

Not this bullshit again. “Lordseochangbin, what do you see?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

He looks into the mirror, winking at his reflection before answering “I see perfection. You know why? Because interesting shit happens in my life. They range from being thrown into a dumpster in Sri Lanka to marrying the love of my life, Mel. Like I said, terrifying yet beautiful experiences and what’s best is that I learned from it!”

“W-what are you saying?” You respond, leaning closer to him on your seat as you anticipate his response.

“The first story you sent me, the one about that boy. The boy in your story captured my eye. He helped others by secretly selling illegal drugs, donating the money to charity and supporting his family.  I want more guys like him.”

“Like him?” 

“Hmm… how do I say this in the nicest way possible? Y/n, get yourself out there man.” He says, sending you a look as if to sympathize with your loneliness

“Oh”

“Yeah.. now go get a life” He says, shooing you off before he could shut the door on you. 

Wow. Okay. So not only did he throw away the story you spent 7 hours on but also told you to go do something with yourself? 

You turn around, facing the closed door. “One day, I’m going to go inside that room and draw devil ears on every one of those fucking posters! Triangle headass!” You curse, rolling your eyes before hearing a quick “I heard that!” and running out of the building.

-----

You know what the funniest thing was about that story Lordseochangbin mentioned? You made up the name. Your high school memories were long gone and all you could remember was calling him “Daddy” every time he pushed you to the edge. In the story, you called him Eric but what was his name? You just couldn’t remember.

The high pitched screaming ringed through your ears as you remembered the times with “Eric”. You made those scenes extra spicy in your book, replacing high school jerseys with suits and lingerie, old school basketball games with extreme galas throwed by rich people. The whole story was like a perfect manhattan lifestyle until he broke it off with you. 

And god, your safe word with “Eric” was the best part… like seriously? The number of times you screamed “CRANBERRY JUICE” as he fucked your insides out was insane and perfectly memorable. His face, unforgettable. 

These vivid images ran through your head as you jumped into the taxi with your two friends. You, y/n, were bound to get into some trouble. 

The night’s off to a boring start as you have time adjusting from candles and Netflix to DJ lights and drinks. You hit your tenth shot before your friends could pull you off to the floor. You sway your hips to the music, throwing your head back as you feel the beat pulse through you. Throwing your hands up in the air, you feel a tight grasp on your hips before turning around to see your friend. 

“Yo. 9 0’clock. That guy has been checking you out, go get yourself into some trouble!” She says, pushing you in the guys direction. You start to stumble on your feet, letting the crowd of waving arms and stepping heels lead you to him before you're in his arms. 

“Umm… are you okay?” He asks with a smirk on his face. This man is gorgeous up close, and that aching feeling between your legs is just hoping you can get a taste of those plump lips. The ones that lie agaped as he waits for your response. 

“Oh right! Yeah, I-I’m fine..” you shake your head, stupid y/n. His arm finds itself around your waist as he guides you to the bar table, a glass of water in front of him. 

“No drinks?” You ask with a smile. “I’ve had enough” He simply replies, taking a sip of his vodka as he looks across the table. You’re staring at his side profile and as much as you know you shouldn’t you just can’t help but to gaze at him. 

“You’re perfect…” you mutter under your breath before he could turn his attention back to you, “What was that? Sorry the music is a little too loud” He apologizes as he leans in closer. 

No..no no no. Please. He’s so close you can smell the cologne he’s wearing and god is it addicting.

“Umm…. hi!” You randomly spurt out, your hands grabbing his shoulders. At this point you are just wide eyed staring at each other, centimeters apart as your gesture seemed to pull you two closer. You have his full attention and you’re not sure what to do with it. The proximity is making your breath hitch and he’s staring at you like an eager kitten, pupils wide and a grin on his face. 

“Umm.. hi” he mocks you, “What is it? Virgin that’s trying to get knocked up? Good girl trying to disappoint her parents in a club?”

“What?!” you reply confused, “Oh! Wait I mean I’m not trying to get knocked up and I think I’ve dissapointed my parents enough but you’re kinda hot so I mean I wouldn’t mind having sex with you NOT that I haven’t had sex before or anytime I mean I’ve madeout but like sex with you seems-” You realize how fast you’re talking and wince at his still expression, silence between you two for a few seconds before he finally says: 

“Perfect, you’d look so pretty under me kitten” he whispers, his thumb holding your chin up as he pecks your lips.

You close your eyes into the kiss before he could say, “Strawberry chapstick, cute” Looking as innocent as a doll, you look up to him as he gets up.

He sends a wink in your direction before grabbing his jacket, “Let’s get out of here” You get a chance to look back to your friends before they mouth to you, “Use protection!!” and you laugh at their responses and the thrill that’s running through your nerves. 

You two exit through the back, a motorcycle helmet in your hands as you throw your leg over him and settle on the backseat. Once the helmet’s on, he turns his head slightly as if to check on you and grabs your hands, wrapping them around his chest. His black denim jacket is covering your shoulders and his white tee is clinging to his body.

You y/n, you just got yourself into some trouble. 

----

A million fans blowing at your face simply couldn’t compare to the cool breeze that blew past you as you find comfort on the motorcycle seat. Your initial goal is long forgotten, but this guy in front of you is already screaming danger and you love it. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, your question being muted by a nearby car horn.

“Sorry, what?” he replies with a smirk before pulling to the side, pushing the kickstand with his foot and getting off the bike. You’re stunned when he takes off his helmet, his messy hair poking all over the place and when he uses his fingers to comb through his dark locks you realize you are absolutely done for.

“Did you ask something?” 

“W-what’s your name?” you ask, your voice muffled because of the helmet. He simply chuckles as he takes the helmet off you, he’s so close that he can hear your shaky breaths and unsteady heartbeats. 

“It’s Minho. Lee Minho… yours?”

Your nails grip onto the leather seat on the motorcycle as you attempt to get off when your dress gets caught on the bike. “Aw, fuck!” you curse yourself, you knew jeans and a jacket would’ve been a good idea. 

“Woah, woah don’t worry I got you” He says, walking over to the other side of the bike before getting on one knee to help the situation. You’re trying your best to look away because this may or may not have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life, one leg is mounted to the floor and the other is leaving you unbalanced on the other side of the seat. 

“Nice panties by the way” he says with a smug look. Your cheeks are pink when you turn around to see that he's right in between your legs, the inside of your dress completely open for him to see but his eyes are still focused on that one knot that he’s been trying to untangle. 

“Oh my god” you pant out, covering your eyes in humiliation. “This is so embarrassing”

“It’s nice to know you were serious when you said you wanted to have sex” his smile is hard to hide when he finally sets you free, the balance of the bike suddenly shiftng your weight as you fall towards him. 

“Oh-” you let out as his eyes stare into yours. They’re literally shining, and maybe it’s the reflection of the street light behind you but it looks so magical in the moment as your hands wrap around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

His hands are around your waist, giving your ass a tight squeeze as he stands up, your lips still connected before he could pull away with a smile. 

“You…” he says with a quick breath, “You never told me what your name was.”

---- 

At the sound of the elevator bell, your back is up against the wall. Minho is quick to get his hands on the bottom of your dress, slowly pulling it up to your waist as he presses kisses into your neck. 

“The second I saw those white lace panties, I wanted them off you right away” He growls into your ear as he grabs your jaw. 

Your legs stiffen as he presses your back on the wall and you gasp as he throws off his jacket, pulling his back tee over his head. “So.. so..” you stutter as your hands grab his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. His tongue is past your lips, his teeth biting down your bottom lip and you whimper at the arousal building up between your legs. 

“Aw, what was that kitten?” He asks in a playful tone

“G-god stop teasing Minho.. just fuck me already” you whisper, your eyes close shut as the trail of wet kisses he’s leaving across your chest as he slowly takes off your dress. “Is this okay?” he asks as his hands go to your waist.

“It’s fine.. please just-” your lips shut as his attaches to your breast, the other one being groped by his hand as he massages it. His tongue swerves around your wet nipple as he flicks it softly, your cold buds hardening before he could suck on it harshly.

It’s a moment of pleasure until you feel your core pulsating, your hands diverging between your legs as you rip off your panties, fingers diving into your wet folds before Minho could slap them away. 

“Who said you could fucking touch yourself?” He asks, making you whine at his words before he unzips his jeans. “This should fucking teach you a lesson…” His pants are on the floor and before you know it he’s carrying you bridal style onto the bed. 

He’s leaning against the backboard, leaving you confused at the fact that you’re just lying there before he pulls his boxers down, revealing his cock covered with beads of pre-cum. 

“M-minho..WAIT. Umm.. shouldn’t we make a safe word?” Minho looks at you in surprise before letting out a chuckle.

“A safeword kitten? C’mon, I can be rough.. but not that rough”

“Just say a word Minho”

“Strawberry-chapstick.”

“Strawberry...chapstick? O-oh.. okay”You stutter as you place yourself in between his legs. Your hands wrap around his member as you pump him up a few times, your tongue sucking on his tip as you leave his arousal all over your lips. When you go down on him, he lets out a loud moan, his eyes shut in pleasure as his hands go to your head. 

“Nnngh, God.. you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth” he lets out, his eyes watching you attentively. A few more groans pass his mouth before he’s biting onto his lip, trying to let anymore out. When he feels you slowing down, he starts to thrust up your mouth, stuffing it with his cock and watching you gag on it. 

“I-i’m so close kitten, I’m gonna fuck your mouth so good” he mumbles as his hips meet your face, your nails gripping onto his thighs as you feel that familiar twitch.

In seconds he’s laid back on the bed, his hands pulling you up to your face as you manage to swallow all his cum before he could align his cock with your entrance, quickly moving past them as he bucks his hips into yours. 

“OH!” you scream, a mantra of his name leaving your lips. As if you haven’t said or thought of his name enough already. It’s the only thing on your mind when you’re staring at him in bliss, your hands on his shoulders as you sink down on him, just for him to hit your sweet spot again. The way his cock is stretching your walls feels so fucking good and you can’t come to terms on whether is pain or pleasure. It’s a pattern of thrusts and moans before it could grow slower and sloppier. 

“I’m so close Minho, please fuck me Minho! Please!” You cry, his hands playing with your clit as he rubs his fingers on it. His hips buck into yours again, finding that same pace and you look helpless, letting him take over you as your breasts jiggle against his chest, mewls passing your lips. 

“J-Just-” You stutter before you could reach your high, letting out a loud pornographic moan as he reaches for his own before filling you up. Your eyes close shut as you get up, falling on the bed next to him. 

He lets out a long, exhausted breath before his hands could play with your hair, giving you access to lay on his chest before saying, “For a virgin.. you really know how to suck dick” 

You nearly choke at his words before rolling your eyes, “I’m not a virgin” 

“Ahh, that makes sense. Who was the lucky guy?” He says with a smirk, leaning down on the side of his bed to grab another liquor bottle and handing you a glass. 

“He’s.. not sure how to explain it. High school friend I guess…” you reply as you take the drink down in one go and place it on his nightstand, cuddling into his arm as you start to fall asleep.

“Who was your first?” you mumble before your drink could get the best of you.

“Mine… she was in high school too. I had some shit going on though, couldn’t keep her. You know, it’s hard thinking my parents own some bigshot company, and I'm just here. Going to be heir to a billion dollar business and I just… can’t handle all of it. I’m here clubbing every night because I know no matter what I do I’ll never be able to impress them…”

---

Thank god. Thank GOD for that recorder you snuck underneath your dress. What you didn’t thank god for was all the times you screamed, “Fuck me! Fuck me!” God… it made you cringe in your seat. It was good sex though, you had to admit. 

What you weren’t proud of was the fact that you didn’t get anything out of that night. No inspiration, no good story. No nothing. You slumped down your seat in exhaustion before you could hear Minho’s voice. 

“It’s like I’ll never be able to impress them…” you hear him pause for a second before rewinding the tape and listening to what he said seconds before you fell asleep. 

He has a story. Minho… he’s more than just a guy that goes clubbing and rides on his motorcycle and drinks every night. He’s a boy that was never loved by his parents, using his money to donate to charity, never knowing what his future lies of him as the heir to a billion dollar company. 

“I trust you.. you know. I don’t know what it is about you but… oh, are you sleeping?” He giggles. You smile at how attractive his laugh is before looking down at his notes. Would it be bad to use these for a story? His life… as a book? 

You remembered his sleepy eyes as he laid on the bed, you trying to put on your clothes in a hurry as you left the apartment without a sound. Should you have left? You throw your face into your hands before hearing the sound of his voice again. 

“She looks cute with this cat filter” you hear him mumble before you could hear the click of his camera, a laugh leaving his lips as you could hear him close settle in his spot next to you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me” He mocks in a high pitch voice before hear a starling snore. “Oh, she snores. Great.” 

You mentally facepalm yourself before turning off the recording, leaning back in your seat as you stare at the roof wondering if it was worth it to break his trust like this.

“I gave you a day, y/n. Got any ideas?” You turn around to see Changbin leaning against the door before looking back at the recorder on your desk.

“I think I do. I’ll have it done in a week.”

----

A month passed and all of your dreams came true. Getting into Yale, publishing a book, and getting the status as an official writer. You regret giving yourself a deadline of a week, but when Changbin saw how well you were doing he extended it, knowing a book could never be done in a week, not even a month. You spent your days and nights on this however, the thought of Minho in mind was only brain fuel. 

Some nights resulting in reaching your own high, but you couldn’t even count the number of men who passed by your apartment door. They weren’t just men, men from Yale, and were they hot. 

You ended up asking them to leave however, knowing you had to get back to work. None of them used “Strawberry-chapstick” as a safeword. None of them took a cute cat filter selfie when you fell asleep. None of them were Minho. 

----

Smile, sign the book, have a conversation and it’s the next person. Minho walked past the book-signing banner as he walked into the library, heading straight to the counter. 

“So busy here, it’s not usually like this” 

“Mr. Lee, there’s a book signing going on here. New author who just made her way to Yale, you should read her book.”

“Yale? It’s probably a book about Hilary or Bush, i’ll pass on reading about notable alumni” he sarcastically replied.

“Well if that’s the case sir, the kids are eagerly waiting in the room past the signing for you” 

“Perfect, thanks..”

Minho tucks his jacket as he walks towards the kids room, catching a glimpse of the fan meeting as he walks by the crowd. 

“Shit, shit! Hide me” You whisper, hiding behind Changbin’s back as you watch him walk by you. 

“Y/n.. I’m your boss not your friend, get out there” he says, stepping to the side before you could make eye contact with him. You see him stop walking down the hall, his eyes staring right at you. 

“Shoot, um changbin can you-”

“Sir you can’t come past this line, it's a book signing.” 

“I need to talk to that girl!” Minho exclaims, pointing a finger at you as you continue to hide behind Changbin. Minho tries to fight off the bodyguards before you could tell them to let go. 

Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you look down at his luxury shoes as you ask, “What are you doing here… you shouldn’t be here”

“I’m always here, the real question is” he looks off to the side, reading the name off the banner, “Y/n.. you left me that night”

You took down a harsh gulp before looking back up at him, “I did.”

He scoffs at your words, “Seriously y/n, you did? No fucking joke, I had no idea what your name was, who you were, all I had was this” he presses the button on his phone, lighting to show you his lockscreen of you sleeping with the cat filter.

“I’ve been thinking about you since that day y/n… please” he says, grabbing your hands in his and giving it a squeeze. You’re left speechless, not sure how to reply before Changbin interrupts you two. 

“Y/n, it’s time. You! You must be a friend of y/n, check out her new book!” 

Changbin hands him a copy and you try to grab it out of his hands, “No Minho you seriously shouldn’t…”

“Wait y/n this is crazy..” he says, swapping your hand away. He mumbles out the title ‘Bad News’ before turning around to read the description. “Bad boy with a bad reputation. Drugs, Drinks, and girls. A billion dollar company and parents that are more than disappointed. Choi Mino..” 

He glares at the words before looking back up to you. “Minho… look I can explain-”

“Don’t bother” he says, dropping the book on the floor, “You could’ve at least thought of a better name for a dissapointment” 

Minho bits his lip in anticipation of a response, another try to ask him to stay but you’re left without words. You don’t know how to explain yourself, you can’t. 

“I-i’m sorry..” you whisper under your breath before Minho could roll his eyes at you and leave. 

“Oh, where’d your friend go?” Changbin asks you, you turn around- trying to hold back the tears that were close to falling before facing the crowd of readers in front of you.. books in their hand and smiles on their faces.  Posing a fake smile you grab the book that Minho dropped in your head, leaning against a table.

“Hello everyone, you know my name. I’m the author of Bad News.

[idreamofdraco]

Kiss Prompt (edit): Drinny? 2? Thanks for much ❤️

This is a sequel to my response to prompt 48. This one is also a longer one. I hope you enjoy it. :)

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

Since his encounter with enchanted mistletoe in the Atrium of the Ministry a few days ago, Draco has made it a point to learn everything he can about Ginny Weasley. She’d accused him of knowing nothing about the Ministry of Magic despite his extended presence there, and she’d been right.

Draco’s job is very important, but it doesn’t require much knowledge or many skills, so he has never bothered to learn the composition of each department or identify changes of power.

Deep in the Department of Mysteries, an office connects the Time and Thought Chambers. It’s where Memory is studied and also houses copies of every document drafted inside or sent to the Ministry of Magic. Contracts, memos, newsletters, personal communications, shopping and to-do lists--if it’s written on parchment, a magical copy is immediately and magically archived in the Department of Mysteries. Draco’s job is to monitor the Archive and hand-deliver archival requests to the Minister of Magic--the only person with clearance to make requests from the Archive.

After the mistletoe incident, Draco scoured the Archive for any mention of Ginny Weasley. He found a birth certificate, Hogwarts rosters from all eight years she attended school, a letter sent to the Ministry by Professor McGonagall to inform the Minister of Weasley’s abduction into the Chamber of Secrets. Another letter informing the Minister of her safe retrieval. A memo describing Weasley’s actions and injuries in the battle that took place inside the Department of Mysteries. OWL scores, NEWT scores, a certificate of completion upon leaving Hogwarts. An employment contract when she was hired as an Auror. Another when she was promoted to Head of the Auror Department. She is the youngest to lead the department in Ministry history, but it appears she received the job when several members of the department were arrested for corruption and Potter turned down the opportunity.

He had devoured as much of her life story as he could, and all the while, he had wondered why it mattered to him.

They’d kissed. It was a spectacular kiss, but they’d been forced into it and it didn’t mean anything. That doesn’t mean Draco doesn’t want to do it again.

A blank piece of parchment on top of one of the stacks that litter the floor around his desk begins to fill with words, and Draco pauses his perusal of Weasley’s promotion contract to watch the words scribble themselves across the page. As soon as the words rest, Draco turns to the rows and rows of filing cabinets that fill the room and begins the tedious process of interpreting the vague request to find some information that might be useful to the Minister.

Hours later, he emerges from the Archive and grabs a lift. The lift stops one floor up at the Atrium to retrieve new passengers, and Draco’s vision tunnels when the doors open. Ginny Weasley has just stepped out of a Floo and turns toward the security gates. A flash of her red hair peeks between the bars of the gates, enticing him with its brightness.

The grill begins to close, and before he can second guess himself, Draco shoves his way out of the full lift. He makes a beeline for Weasley to meet her on his side of the security gate.

She glances up as her wand is returned to her by the attendant, but she noticeably freezes when she spots Draco, only feet away. Then, as if as drawn to him as he is to her, she slowly approaches him.

The people around them give them a wide berth, as if sensing they would prefer to be alone. With the illusion of privacy, they keep their voices low and intimate.

“You ran away from our last encounter,” Weasley says, a smile trembling at the corners of her lips. As though she would prefer to scowl but can’t bring herself to.

“I didn’t fancy being hexed by Potter.”

“Harry is a non-issue,” she says, scowling now. Hmm, she really doesn’t like being associated with Potter. This pleases him more than it should. Or maybe just as much as it should.... Why shouldn’t Draco be glad that she wants nothing to do with Potter anymore?

She tilts her chin up a little higher, and Draco realizes how small she is, how far she has to crane her neck to meet his eyes. This feels familiar in some ways and brand new in others. Once upon a time, he’d restrained her from behind while the Carrows had thrown Unforgivables at her. She’d seemed such an impossibly small target back then, when Draco had also been in the line of fire. In that way, her size feels intimately familiar. But she faces him now, meets his eye, the opposite position she’d held in her detention days, and the experience is new, thrilling, and terrifying all at once to have those eyes on him.

This is a woman who was abducted by Salazar Slytherin’s monster and saw the inside of the Chamber of Secrets. This is a woman who led a rebellion when Potter wasn’t around to lead it for her. This was the youngest leader of the Aurors in history, and perhaps she got the job because there hadn’t been anyone else with more experience to take it, but all the reports he’d read in the Archive suggested she’d met the challenge and exceeded expectations.

She is a force to be reckoned with, and she wants nothing to do with Potter. Instead, she’s staring at Draco, almost smiling at Draco, as if she, too, wants to repeat their kiss from several days ago.

“By choice?” Draco asks, wanting to hear her say the words.

“Hmm?”

“Is Potter a non-issue by choice? Was there a choice?”

Her eyes glitter with calculation. Her lips purse in thought. Draco measures his breaths and sculpts his expression into mild curiosity, trying to hide how much he needs to know the answer. But inside his chest, his heart pounds against his ribs in anticipation.

“Yes, by choice,” Weasley says. “My choice.”

“Before or after you became the youngest Head of the Auror Department?”

Her eyes narrow. “You asked about me.”

“No,” he answers truthfully, his lips thinning into a smug smile.

“You did some research.”

“Some,” he agrees.

During their back and forth, they draw closer together. Close enough that if Draco shifts his stance slightly, their fingers will brush. Close enough that if he only lowers his head, he could kiss her again. The top of her head, her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. Wherever he wants, he could do it.

“Before.”

“Hmm?” Draco asks.

Her grin strengthens, goes from trembly to sincere. “Harry became a non-issue long before I became the head of the department.”

Back in their school days, he had loved competing with Potter. Nothing had brought him as much joy as when Draco triumphed over him, rare as those moments had been. But Draco had grown up, and in the time it had taken him to do that, he’d finally learned that some people are winners and some are losers. In any competition between Draco and Potter, Draco usually came out the loser, so it was better not to compete at all.

He’s glad he won’t have to compete with Potter over her.

At this point, there is no further distance to cover. If they move any closer, they’d be in each other’s arms.

Draco wonders whether this new attraction to Weasley is natural or a by-product of the enchanted mistletoe lingering all these days later. Something isn’t right about his fascination, about the flush in his cheeks, about his rapidly beating heart. What if he’s under the effects of magical mistletoe right now?

He looks up, halfway expecting to see the blasted plant hanging there, and then he freezes.

The blasted plant is hanging there!

Weasley looks up, too, and then groans. “Oh no....”

The bubble that he and Weasley had found themselves in now makes sense. It was caused by the people passing by avoiding the mistletoe, and Draco and Weasley had walked right into it.

Draco frowns, uncertain of the mood he’d sensed when she’d passed through the security gates. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to kiss me. I felt how you reacted last time. I see the way you’re looking at me now.”

“It’s not that,” she says, her voice low. “I don’t like not having a choice. I don’t like not being in control.”

A quiet, surprised breath escapes Draco’s mouth. Heat begins to consume him at the idea of Weasley being in control. After his initial physical reaction to her explanation, Draco understands her concern. Not having a choice--it’s an evil Draco experienced during the war, and it’s an evil he never wants to repeat.

But they do have a choice now. They can choose to kiss, or they can ask a bystander to alert the Magical Maintenance crew to free them. They still have a choice.

Draco places his hands on her hips and holds her against him. They are so close, he hears every stutter of her breath, he feels it against his heart, penetrating through his clothes, through skin and muscle and bone. She’s so small it makes him want to be careful with her, so when he lowers his head, he plants an equally small, gentle kiss against her lips. It’s a fleeting kiss, testing the waters, tasting them, trying to get a sense of whether her presumed lack of choice will deter her from deepening it.

It doesn’t.

Her response is immediate as she reaches up and takes his lips by force.

For a moment, he’s shocked by her fervor, but it’s only a momentary lapse. He’s as invested as she is, as hungry as she is, and he pours all of the attraction he’s felt over the last several days, all the want and yearning, into her.

It’s hot, it’s wet, it’s completely inappropriate for the workplace, especially for the entrance of the Ministry where so many people arrive and depart. But Draco doesn’t care. He only cares about the scent of her hair in his nose, the taste of her tongue against his, her greedy hands clutching his back, her all-encompassing warmth.

When it ends, he’s filled with regret, but there’s something in her eyes that says this second kiss won’t be their last. Maybe next time they won’t wait to get trapped under enchanted mistletoe again.

As long as they are both willing, Draco will make sure they have plenty of opportunities in the future for more kissing.

It will always be their choice.

---

Feel free to send me a number and a pairing for a kiss prompt!

I can’t guarantee that I’ll write any more, but who knows what will inspire me?

Unavailable numbers are 2, 3, 5, 10, 14, 15, 16, 22, 42, 48.

[xmagicxshopx]

Moon Monsters - Chapter 8

Genre: Fantasy Adventure, Romance (smut later), Comedy Rating: PG-13 Warnings: signs of depression, mild language Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Jimin x oc, Taehyung x oc Notes: werewolf!bts au. Not idol!bts. Same goes for GOT7. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This chapter is quite intense, guys. But I promise despite the warnings labeled, it ends on a good note~

Tagging: @och-ako @jiminnies-baby @kfictionstories @justbangtanandjams @lizardsocial @breadcaaat @wordsturnintostories @jennierubyjane0116

Summary: You’re the CEO’s new personal assistant. But there’s something strange about him and the company you work for.

SERIES MASTERLIST

My beautiful girl,

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be around longer, but my flight is really early and I didn’t want to wake you. You need the rest and, besides, it’s a beautiful sight to watch you sleep. I may have took a couple pictures for my phone wallpaper~ Hope you don’t mind. Don’t hesitate to call me or text me, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.

Your new boyfriend, Jungkook :)

A piece of paper half filled with your boyfriend’s scribbling. That was all that was left of him from where he had stayed the night last night in your hospital room. Apparently some time after you had fallen asleep, he must have took care of cleaning everything up because there wasn’t a trace of takeout food anywhere. Looking around the room, you nearly screamed bloody murder when you realized there was actually someone in your room.

“Namjoon???”

“Hey there, kid. How you feeling? Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You attempted to sit up only to watch your boss quickly getting off the couch in the corner of the room and rushing over to help you. After carefully adjusting your bed so that you could sit up more comfortably, you sighed heavily and glanced over at the male once more.

“Are you here to take me home?”

“Yep. I promised the little snot I’d make sure his girl got home safely.”

The heart monitor bleeped a bit and heat rushed to your face as you suddenly found great interest in the fibers of your hospital blankets. Honestly, you were a little grumpy that Jungkook hadn’t woke you up before he had to leave. But at the same time, you totally understood and were grateful. Only he could make you feel two completely different things at the same time.

“Oh. He wanted me to give you this. He said you could call it a housewarming gift.”

You watched your boss pull out of his suit pocket what appeared to be a small, square box. As sad as it was to admit, your first thought was maybe it was a bracelet or some other form of small jewelry. Taking the box from him, you wasted no time in popping off the lid only to see what was inside.

“A key?”

“It doesn’t actually open anything. It’s more for decoration. The tag attached is the real gift.”

So after picking up the beautifully elegant looking key, you flipped the tag over to see something written on it. It appeared to be some kind of number code on it. After taking a moment to connect the dots, you realized your boyfriend never gave you the entry code to the apartment you now shared together. Your initial reaction was to giggle and shake your head in amusement.

“Right? I’m pretty sure this was his way of covering up the fact that he has yet to give you the code you need to enter your own home. What a dork.”

Speaking of said dork.......

AT THE OFFICE......

“Hyung. I can’t do this. I can’t leave her. Jackson’s out there somewhere. She needs me. She’s hurt. I can’t do this. Please. Drive me back to the hospital. I need to see her!”

“Hey hey hey. Look at me, Kook. Look at me. Hey---Come on, bud. Focus.”

Jungkook was gently turned around to face his older pack brother once more. Taehyung’s heart cracked a bit at the sight of his younger canine sibling. Granted they weren’t actually blood related but they might as well be. Taking the cool wash cloth that he had on hand, he started to try and pat dry some of the sweat that was rolling down the poor boy’s face.

If anyone hadn’t already known what was going on, some would say Jungkook looked like he had a fever and was suffering from the flu. But Taehyung, among others, knew better. The two of them were standing out back of the office building where Namjoon had fueled up the company’s private jet; readying them for their trip to the island. Taehyung had completely agreed to tag along the second he was asked. Especially now that he was seeing how hard this was for his brother who was freshly in love.

“You’re doing great, man. Don’t give up now. It’s the heat talking. Miss Korea is in good hands with Namjoon. He’ll make sure Jackson and anyone else doesn’t lay a single finger on her. Now come on, let’s get on the plane. I’m ready for some sunshine and a cocktail.”

With his pupils blown wide open and the sweat starting to soak his hair, the young pup simply nodded and forced himself not to look back. In fact, the second he was on the plane and walking towards the comfy lounge, he impatiently tugged his shirt off; having now been drenched in his sweat. He felt like his whole body was on fire and his inner wolf was howling with anguish.

‘How can you just leave her?! We need to mate! She’s going to be in the den building the nest and we aren’t there! Do you see the problem with this picture?!’

But he just ignored his mental companion and tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Of course, that proved to be futile as he soon saw flashing images behind his closed eyes.

You’d be bustling around the apartment making sure everything was neat and tidy. All the laundry done and covering the place in your delectable scent like the softest perfume. And then there you would lay; waiting for him. Begging him to breed you till you were bursting with his pups.

The mere idea of it had him semi retching and curling up on himself, clutching at his stomach. He was in so much pain. It was excruciating at best. Seeing his brother about to roll off the lounge, Taehyung dashed forward and crouched next to him. Speaking softly, he helped the suffering boy into a sitting position once more.

“I know, buddy. I know. It hurts. You just gotta get through this first day and it should get at least a little bit easier.”

Taehyung had started to pat at the younger’s face once more with the wash cloth from earlier, only to see that tears were starting to mix with all the sweat. It wasn’t often that Jungkook cried. He was usually either smiling, laughing, or grumpy about something. But seeing the fat tears rolling with his face twisted in pain, it was heart wrenching.

“Hyung. I miss her. I miss her. It hurts.”

“I know, kid. I know.”

And that was how the older male found himself as he laid down on the lounge with a sobbing Jungkook in his arms; rubbing his back and trying to soothe the poor boy as best he could.

THE NEXT DAY.......

It was finally Tuesday and it was your first day back to work. If someone had told you that in the span of a weekend, just two days, that you’d lose your apartment, have your car stolen, be gifted a new car, move in with your roommate, get a boyfriend, have your old car bombed.....Yeah. You wouldn’t have believed them either. Even going over it in your head it sounded unbelievable.

But that wasn’t even what was running through your mind as you tried to focus on the paperwork laying in front of you. Namjoon needed you to do some basic filing for him that he honestly didn’t have time to do himself. The task was pretty basic which you were grateful for since you were still sore and your mind was a blender of a mess. All you could think about was Jungkook. Your boyfriend. It made you smile instantly.

“I can’t imagine what you must be thinking about right now.”

You looked up to see none other than Jimin. He was sporting a warm, loving smile as he walked up to you with a document. As he laid the piece of paper on your desk, you saw where it was a request for leave form from the Human Resources department.

“Just need you to fill that out for the time you couldn’t be here yesterday. You’ll totally get paid for it but it’s just a silly requirement that we have documentation.”

“Sure, Jiminnie. No problem.”

As you filled out the paperwork, you could feel eyes on you and as soon as you looked up, your own orbs locked onto the sharp eyes of a familiar face. Jimin watched the color drain from your complexion and followed your gaze. Upon seeing who it was, an animal-like growl rumbled in the male’s chest as he asked through gritted teeth,

“Want me to take care of him?”

“N-N-No. It’s okay. Hopefully he won’t bother me. Namjoon said Jaebum talked to him and told him to keep his distance from me.”

“We’ll see if he listens. Jackson’s never been the best at following orders.”

By lunch time, you were ready to go home. You felt horrible. Not physically, but emotionally. You missed him. You missed Jungkook. It felt kind of twisted in a way. You find yourself being someone’s girlfriend only to be left alone the following week. Granted you knew it wasn’t the boy’s fault. He has this week scheduled off every month. But still.....couldn’t he have taken a rain check just this once? For you?

You felt ridiculous, honestly. It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever been without him. Heck, you had only been spending a short time with him. But the two of you just clicked and suddenly it felt like you had been close for years versus a couple weeks. Your heart hurt; feeling like it was going to burst from the pressure of sadness and loneliness. You missed him. Terribly.

You took your afternoon break earlier than usual to give yourself a moment to cry in the privacy of the ladies bathroom. This was crazy. It was just Jungkook. Granted you were going to start your period next week so perhaps you were just suffering from premenstrual syndrome. You always did cry at the drop of a hat when it was that special time of the month.

Sniffling and trying to control your whimpers, you splashed some cold water on your face, your makeup officially ruined anyway. After trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible, you took a couple deep breaths before walking back out and resuming your tasks from where you were playing catch-up.

Just before it was time for you to clock out, your phone buzzed and turns out Mama Bird and Black Widow had added you in their group chat conversation. Apparently they wanted to have dinner with you tonight. From out of your line of vision, Jimin was smiling as he saw his little tactic to make you smile worked. He saw how the separation was effecting you and if you looked this bad, he could only imagine how Jungkook looked.

Speaking of Jungkook.......

ON JEJU ISLAND.......

It was a peaceful Wednesday morning. The sun had only just started to rise and there was a nice sea breeze that teased the waters and sand below. All was quiet.....until......

“Ack!!”

Just down the shoreline in a secluded location, sounds of something thrashing in the water could be heard accompanied with loud, hearty laughter. Sputtering water out of his mouth, Jungkook looked up to glare at his older sibling. Wiping his face as dry as he possibly could with a soaked hand, he stood up from the waters and started to shuffle his way back to shore.

“Hyung! What the hell?! What was that for?!”

“You looked like you needed to cool off. Plus you were sporting major morning wood. Here----Let me take a picture for Miss Korea. Unless of course you’d rather send her nudes.”

There was a long, dragged out pause before the poor pup in heat said,

“I’m going back in the water where it’s freezing, thanks.”

Taehyung, who was now dressed for the part of a tropical vacation, simply continued to laugh his butt off as he instead decided to film the scene. Jimin had texted Tae privately earlier this morning about how you were having a hard time and feeling the effects of the separation. Heat Week didn’t just effect the wolf, it effected the wolf’s mate as well. It was how the Moon Goddess and Mother Nature worked together. The two boys hated seeing their friends in pain like this.

So the shaggy, black mopped male thought he’d take it upon himself to send you a little video of Jungkook lazying around in the waters of Jeju. And thanks to the fact that Kook’s ears were often engulfed in water, he couldn’t hear what his older wolf brother was saying.

“Miss Korea. Hi! This is Taehyungie---Obviously. I know you’re missing our Kookie. So I thought I’d send you a little treat. Don’t worry. He misses you like crazy and wishes you could be here with us. Well he’d probably trade me for you. But you get the point.”

Truth be told, the chilling waters actually felt great on Jungkook’s heated skin. His heat was unbearable so the water was eagerly welcomed. Eyes closed, he allowed his body to float with the current of the waters. Of course his mind immediately went back to you; wondering if you liked the beach and if you’d like it here. Perhaps he’d get to bring you here sooner than he thought.

This island. Jeju Island. It had a secluded, secret location that was only revealed to certain people. It couldn’t even be found on a map. It was this location where the most sacred of wolf rituals were held. It was the place where wolves turned their mates if they weren’t already a wolf.

In a more relatable context, it was something like marriage, only for werewolves. Jungkook hoped one day he would be here, with you, and you’d be married. The sheer thought of it had him smiling like an idiot in love. Which wasn’t far from the truth. God he missed you. It still hurt like hell but at least the cold waters of the island were helping him keep at least semi cool. He wondered how you were holding up. Were you in pain too? Was Jackson leaving you alone? Gah he wished he could be there. By your side.

“Okay, dog boy! Time to get out of the water! I’m starving and ready for breakfast.”

As Jungkook came waddling back out of the water and padding across the sand, he flung an arm across his older brother’s shoulders and said with a playful scoff,

“You’re one to talk, dog boy. What’s for breakfast, anyway? I didn’t even realize we still had food here.”

LATER THAT DAY AT THE OFFICE......

It was lunch time again and today wasn’t any easier. In fact, it felt worse. You didn’t even bother hiding your red rimmed eyes and matching red button nose. You had a large iced coffee in one hand, a tissue in another, surrounded by a small mountain of already used up tissues and a pizza box. Normally you’d watch what you ate but today you ate the whole freaking pizza by yourself.

You were a mess. A mess without Jungkook. Suddenly, your phone vibrated indicating you had a text message. It was Taehyung. Immediately fearing that something was wrong, you quickly opened the message only to see that it was a video he had sent you. Now officially curious and welcoming any kind of distraction from your pain, you clicked on the video and instantly felt the wind knocked out of you.

“Miss Korea. Hi! This is Taehyungie---Obviously. I know you’re missing our Kookie. So I thought I’d send you a little treat. Don’t worry. He misses you like crazy and wishes you could be here with us. Well he’d probably trade me for you. But you get the point.”

The first thing you saw was Taehyung as he sported ritzy sunglasses that were probably Gucci and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt to match. His shaggy hair rustling in the wind. Then he panned his phone over to whom you could only assume was your boyfriend. Leaning closer to the screen, you could see him. He was in the water. Heat crept up your neck and your ears burned as you realized of course he’d be shirtless.

But it seemed like no time at all that the video clip was over. Despite how short and fleeting it felt, Taehyung’s words were ingrained in your mind. Jungkook missed you? He missed you like crazy? So it wasn’t just you? The realization made you start bawling all over again as you quickly grabbed three clean tissues one right after the other. This was ridiculous. How could one person miss another human being to the point it was painful?

You were a roller coaster of emotions the rest of the day. Trying to focus on your work but failing miserably because you were jumping back and forth between feeling happy about getting an update and sad because you were still without your man. Any time Jimin would have to make a quick run because an employee had yet to turn their time sheet in, he’d spot you looking like the cover of a commercial for antidepressants.

“Hyung-----Can’t we just tell her? She’s practically wasting away out there. She’s feeling the symptoms of the separation and it’s killing her. Probably more literal than I mean for it to be.”

“Minnie, Minnie. Calm down. Here----Have a seat with me.”

The young male was in Namjoon’s office trying not to have an anxiety attack and was failing tremendously. Taking deep breaths, Jimin took a seat across from his pack leader and tried not to squirm. He hated seeing you so miserable. Hadn’t you been miserable long enough? Of course it was all crappy timing but still. If there was anything that could be done to help ease your pain......He’d do it.

“It’s not our place to tell her about our existence. It’s up to Jungkook. She is his mate and therefore it should be him. But I’ll see what I can do about helping her. I have to admit......It’s effecting her work. But I’m not about to tell her that.”

“Thanks, hyung. I’m grateful for your help. I don’t think even Mama Bird and Widow are going to be able to make this any better.”

By Thursday morning, you were sick. Literally sick. It felt like you were coming down with the flu. Fever, chills, vomiting, muscle aches, fatigue. The whole nine yards. The full course meal.

So it came to no surprise when Namjoon received your call about how horrible you were feeling and that you wouldn’t be making it in to work today. It really wasn’t his place to act but you were forcing his hand at this point. The pack leader had never seen such a situation like this. It made him wonder about the future and how you and his youngest pup would grow as a couple.

Speaking of his youngest......

ON JEJU ISLAND.....

“Hyung----”

Heavy panting filled the den-like structure as Jungkook laid on the pile of blankets and pillows that was normally used for when female wolves were either nesting and or recovering from being turned. The sheets were nearly soaked with the poor man’s sweat as he was having a particularly hard time. Hard in more ways than one.

“I thought you said it would get easier???”

“It’s......It’s supposed to......”

Taehyung chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He never would have imagined his younger sibling’s heat turning into something to......well.....worrisome. Taehyung had witnessed a lot of heats before, even some of Jungkook’s, but they were nothing like this. It looked like the male was dying as he laid there almost delirious with fever.

“Beautiful.......I need to see her.......Need her......Where is she?......Is she coming back?”

“She’s okay, buddy. Just try to relax. She’ll be back soon.”

The oldest of the two hated lying like that, but if it would ease up some of Kook’s anxiety and stress, then he’d spin as many white lies as he had to. This wasn’t healthy. Not healthy at all. The boy’s appetite had completely disappeared and he was so weak that he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. Something had to be done or they were going to be down one less pack member. After telling another white lie that he was going to see where she was at, he walked out of the den and dialed his pack leader’s number.

“Hello?”

“Joon---We have a problem.”

“I know.”

“It’s Kookie. He-----Wait what?”

“She’s ill, Tae. I’m guessing Jungkook is no better?”

“Honestly, I feel like he’s really truly dying. Hyung.....I can’t watch this anymore. I don’t want to lose my baby brother.”

Taehyung was grateful that his leader and father figure couldn’t see his tears as he roughly wiped them with the back of his hand. He really needed to get back to Jungkook in case something went really South but instead he listened to what Namjoon had to say.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but honestly, it sounds like they’re both so out of their minds that it won’t matter. I’m having Hoseok and Jin fly to the island right now as we speak with some medical tech and supplies. Get him strapped on the gurney and put some oxygen on him and we’ll bring him back home.”

The tanned male then added in a more soothing tone,

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You’re not going to lose anyone.”

“Th--Thanks, hyung. I’m gonna go back and tell him the good news. He’ll be so ha---happy to hear this. He really will.”

Hanging up and trying his best to wipe his tears away and look presentable again, he quickly jogged into the den to see his brother right where he left him. He appeared to be sleeping from the rise and fall of his chest but it looked irregular. His breathing was becoming labored. Crap. Crap crap crap. Knowing the private jet would be here any minute, the male walked over and gently shook the other’s shoulder.

“Kook?......Jungkook? Can you hear me, buddy?”

“Princess?.......”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Taehyung would have cracked a joke but he didn’t feel anywhere near in the mood. So instead he kept doing his thing and trying to keep the poor boy as cool and comfortable as he possibly could given the circumstances.

“Nah. Not yet. It’s me, Taehyung. But don’t worry, Kookie. I just got great news. We’re going home. Okay? You’ll be with Miss. Korea before you know it. You just gotta hang in there for me a little bit longer, okay? Can you do that for me, big guy?”

He was shocked to see the slight nod the younger gave him as it seemed like he didn’t have much energy at all left in him. Perhaps he really could hear what Tae was saying and it gave him some pep to keep going. This was going to work. Everything would be okay. No one was going to die.......Right?

After a few extra minutes of trying to keep the boy conscious, sounds of a jet landing could be heard outside and Taehyung felt his heart clenching. His anxiety was through the roof. If he thought he needed a cocktail when he first landed on this island, he needed a whole pitcher now.

Hoseok and Jin were soon rushing into the den with a gurney and other supplies needed so that they could get the poor lad home. His bulky body was slippery with how drenched in sweat it was and all he had on was his boxers. It took all three of them to get him on the gurney. While Tae and Hoseok worked on securing him, Jin made quick work of getting some oxygen on him. He had never seen one of the pack look this ill from heat.

“Okay. He’s in. Let’s get him home.”

BACK AT THE APARTMENT......

“Sweet pea? Can you hear me?.....It’s Mama Bird......Widow and I are here to see how you’re doing.”

“Jung........Kook.........Where’s........Jungkook.......”

The air was heavy with anxiety as the two girls sat in Jungkook’s bedroom with the pack leader Namjoon. Thinking ahead, the tanned leader had decided it would be best if you laid in your mate’s bed. Not to mention he knew Kook would prefer it that way.

You had long since turned delirious to the point where you mumbled things that made it sound like you were talking to your boyfriend. Sometimes Namjoon even had to play the part despite sounding nothing like his youngest pup. But you were so out of it with fever and chills that you didn’t know the difference.

Suddenly, Jimin came rushing down the hall only to come to an abrupt stop at the door way. Holding his phone with slightly shaking hands, he pulled himself together and spoke in a rush of words,

“Taehyung just texted me. They’ll be here in 20 minutes. He says Kook’s still hanging in there but they’re running out of oxygen for him.”

Widow had been bawling and Mama Bird was struggling to keep it together. It was bad enough seeing one of her gal pals suffering so much. But it was something else entirely to see her mate suffering like this. His pain was her pain and it worked both ways.

And that’s when it clicked for her. The reason you were suffering. It was because you were Jungkook’s mate and whatever he was feeling, you were feeling. So if he was dying......

You were dying.....

The boys were only one minute shy of being 20 minutes and Jimin was flinging the door open to let them in. The whole Bangtan pack was here along with your two gal pals and honestly it would have been heartwarming had the situation not been so serious. Rushing down the hallway, Jungkook’s body jerked violently and he almost choked on his own air. Taehyung, who had demanded he be the one to carry the boy, gritted his teeth and said roughly,

“Dirty bastard. Don’t you dare die on me. You’re not allowed to die just because you’re not getting your dick wet.”

Of course despite the tone, it really was said with love. That’s just how the male reacted whenever he was extremely upset with or over a loved one. Rushing through the door, the girls made way for him so that he could carefully set the male down in his large bed next to his girl. Taking several steps back as the bedroom was now crammed with people, they all watched to see what would happen. Did they make it in time?

At first, neither one of you moved. You personally were too weak; felt too heavy to move. But then Jungkook got a whiff of your delicious scent and that was all he needed before he was on you like the hungry wolf he was. At first, he started to sniff all over you, growling when he smelled other males on you. Okay. This was unacceptable. You needed to be cleaned up.

He started with your face covered in sweat. Ew. You smelled horrible. With a scoff and wrinkled nose, the youngest male started licking away all your impurities and in it’s place he left his scent. Starting with your face and moving down to your neck. Growling at his own t-shirt, he suddenly found his strength again and ripped the fabric easily so he could continue to lick at your skin with vigor.

“What’s he doing???”

It was Namjoon who answered Hoseok’s innocent curiosity. Chuckling softly, he said casually but with a hint of amusement,

“He’s grooming her. Apparently she must reek of us.”

The girls, who had since then gravitated to their mates, were watching with relief as color started returning to your face. They watched as you started letting out soft whimpers and tried to move so that you could wrap yourself around your own mate but Jungkook wasn’t having it. He moved his body so that he had you trapped underneath him.

“I’ll cuddle you later. But right now you stink. Stay still till I’m finished.”

Was it weird that you totally didn’t care if he licked all over your body? Because you felt like that should have been something weird to do to a person. But you actually kind of liked it. Or perhaps it was just being near your boyfriend again that had you feeling better? You were so confused but honestly it didn’t matter right now. You could be confused later. You could worry about it later. Right now, all you cared about, was being next to your guy.

Hearing a soft chuckle behind them, Jungkook suddenly stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder to see his whole pack along with a couple of their mates watching in amusement. Granted, the youngest pup wouldn’t have cared if he had an audience, but no one was going to see you naked but him. So with a low growl that filled the whole room, he barked softly,

“Leave us.”

And in no time at all, the small crowd started to move with Hoseok being the first to go.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Same here. I prefer my head attached to the rest of my body.”

“Ungrateful little shit.”

One by one, the room cleared out till it was just the two of them. Finally. Finally he could enjoy being with his girl where there was no interruptions. No bodies of water keeping them apart. No distance, no people. It was just you and him now. Letting out a rumbling of happiness, he went back to licking at your now cooling skin. Of course you were still warm but it was at least bearable.

“Kookie.....I missed you......”

“I missed you too, pet. So so much. I’m never going on vacation without you again.”

And so that’s how you remained for the next several minutes. Just Jungkook licking at your skin till he deemed you clean. Whatever that was supposed to mean. You honestly didn’t care right now. As long as you were back in his arms, he could do whatever he wanted to you. Once he decided you were good to go, he laid down beside you but immediately dragged you till you were half laying on top of him.

Nimble fingers ran through your hair in slow, repetitive strokes as you laid there with your head on his chest. Pffft. You were sweaty but so was he. As you laid there, you never once questioned why you were suddenly feeling better now that he was home. Maybe you were still sick but having him here made it easier to deal with? You had no idea but perhaps it was best not to dwell on it. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Suddenly, there was a rumbling between the two of you and you looked up with mild surprise.

“I um.......Haven’t ate in a while.”

“Me neither. Want to order a pizza?”

Your boyfriend suddenly scoffed and quickly said no. Pouting and thoroughly confused, you asked in a small and unknowingly submissive tone,

“Why? I thought you loved pizza.”

“I do. But I don’t want some sleazy delivery boy thinking he has a shot with you. You’re mine. No one else’s.”

You let out a soft yelp of surprise when he nipped at the shell of your ear. Was he always going to be this possessive? You didn’t know but honestly you found it really sexy. So that’s how the two of you ended up devouring whatever you could find in the kitchen. Of course Jungkook insisted he carry you and gingerly set you down on one of the kitchen bar stools.

It was then, with your legs gently swinging back and forth like a child’s, that you noticed he was only dressed in his boxers. Blushing heavily, you looked down at yourself only to remember he had torn your top off. Well it was his own shirt, but still. Gasping, you immediately covered yourself and your boyfriend had immediately turned around to see what was wrong. Upon seeing you covering your chest, he chuckled and spoke softly,

“Baby, you don’t have to hide from me.”

“Yeah but-----I mean-----Isn’t it too soon?”

“Too soon for what? For me to see your tits? What did you think you were doing to me when you were prancing around in that baby doll nightie of yours, hmm? You claim it’s conservative but I call bull on that. You don’t leave much to the imagination, babe.”

“Yah. Okay, okay. Fine. But at least let me put a new shirt on?”

“Nope. I want your tits where I can see ‘em.”

“Ew. You’re so gross. I change my mind. Go back to the beach.”

Chuckling, the male left the stove only to walk around the kitchen island and stand in front of you. Making room between your legs, he cupped your face in his hands and gave you a sweet kiss to the nose before saying softly in a sultry tone,

“Only if I get to take you with me.”

As much as you would love to go to the beach with your super sweet but also super hot boyfriend, tomorrow was Friday and that meant you had to go back to work. Pouting in an unknowingly cute fashion, you let out a whine and lightly flopped your hands on his chest as you spoke sadly,

“I have work tomorrow. I’m going to miss you all over again.”

To your great surprise, Jungkook sported a devilish grin as he shook his head in denial. With your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and feeling a blush coming on, you let out a small squeak as he advanced on you and whispered in your ear,

“You, my pretty pet, are calling in sick tomorrow. Because I have plans for you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and, embarrassingly enough, heat pooled to your core. Dear god you didn’t need this right now. You were so close to your period and you always grew horny. He wasn’t exactly helping right now. Some would probably say you two were moving too fast. But after the torture you’ve went through this week, you could care less what anyone thought.

Needless to say, dinner was ruined and Jungkook was forced to order a pizza......Okay he ordered four. While waiting for the food, you had since changed into that very same nightie he was whining about earlier. He nagged  and complained the entire time as you pranced around the apartment; grabbing drinks, chips, and other snacks.

When you were finally sitting down and eating, you couldn’t believe you were watching him inhale the pizza like a literal starving man. It wasn’t like the boxes were going to grow legs and start running off. At one point, you laughed behind your hand and muttered,

“Kook, slow down. You’re going to choke if you don’t.”

“That’s when you give me CPR. The fun kind.”

“You’re so stupid.”

You were suddenly tackled to the couch and sly fingers started to tickle at your sides. Squealing and laughing, you tried to beg for mercy but he waited till tears of laughter were pouring from your eyes before he finally stopped. With the two of you laying there and him practically squishing you, he made happy noises while nosing your neck.

“I may be stupid but at least I’m stupid for you.”

“Well.......I’m pretty stupid for you too.”

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Runner, a Todd the Wraith x Reader smutfic [18+]

UMMMM what can I say about this? I’ve been reading a lot of slasher x reader smut lately, and I’m rather into the trope where they “hunt” their s/o but instead of murdering them they do sex >_> 

So. 

Here’s that. But with Todd. 

You are pulled from sleep by a deep voice that echoes in both your mind and your ears at once. A wraith voice.

“Now this is remarkably unwise,” it says.

You slowly blink open your eyes. In the low firelight of the cave you’ve called home for all of a day, you see him—long straggly white hair and a single tuft of beard. The left half of his face is hidden in shadow, but you already recognize which one this is. The star tattoo. Out of all the hunters who have pursued you, he was the best at evading your traps, and always seemed closest behind, yet somehow he always let you slip away. At first, dozens of wraith would show up on whatever planet you lingered on too long. Then it was just him. Always just him.

In a clawed hand, he holds up the device used to track your subspace transmitter. A blinking green dot represents your life. “Staying in one place will get you killed. I thought you were more clever than that.”

You grunt lazily and pull your blanket up over your chin. The wraith stiffens sharply, taken aback at your nonchalance.

“You should be running now,” he warns.

You give a heavy sigh, and sit up on your elbows. “I don’t feel like it.”

“You don’t feel like it? Do you wish to die?”

“Maybe,” you breathe.

His face falls.

“I’m just so tired. All I want is to get a full night’s sleep again. Just once. My head is always aching, and I’m always looking over my shoulders. I’m tired. I just want to rest again. If that means I have to die, I don’t care anymore.”

He growls. “How can you give up so easily?! You’ve been such an entertaining hunt—always outwitting us, out-fighting us despite great disadvantage, coming up with the most elegant plans. I admit I have even come to admire you, for a human. The chase cannot end with an anti-climax. You must fight for your life!”

“You already took my life away when you made me a runner! Sorry, but I don’t care if you’re disappointed. Anyway, I’m not convinced you are going to kill me. The wraith had the chance to kill me when they first culled my village. Instead, they implanted this tracking device in my spine and set me free. So why kill me now?”

“Because that is the game. And if you do not run, there is no game. Then your usefulness has ended.” He steps toward you, feeding hand raised in threat. You’re not afraid. You don’t feel much of anything anymore.

“So be it.” You defiantly lock onto his yellow slit eyes. “If you want your entertainment to be over, go ahead and kill me. But I’m not going to run again until I’ve had some rest.”

With a snarl, he sets his hand on your chest. The feeding slit quivers against your skin, reading it, bonding to it. You wince as it draws little pricks of blood making its connection, and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the end. You expect the pain to be sudden and violent as the life is sucked out of your body, leaving you a shriveled, grey husk. But the pain doesn’t come, beyond the initial incision, which feels no worse than a scraped knee.

You open your eyes. He is leaning over you, his own eyes closed in thought, half a scowl turning down the corners of his lips. His eyes snap open and lock on yours. Finally, you feel something from his feeding hand, but it’s not pain. It’s more like… the opposite of pain—a bright, blinding light spreading out through your chest, warming your veins, like a hot cup of tea in the morning at your old home, in your own village, before the wraith came. Your headache is gone.

He disconnects from you, and even the drops of blood he made on your chest seem to heal magically as he withdraws.

“Wh-what was that?”

“The gift of life,” he smiles. “Just a taste. Enough to help you feel like yourself again.”

You do. You can’t remember the last time you felt okay—like you could smile, or laugh, or paint a picture. You almost want to grab a rock off the floor and start etching scribbles onto the walls.

“But, I don’t understand,” you whisper breathlessly.

He brushes a strand of your hair that had fallen out of place. “Perhaps… I am not ready to see you dead yet.” He stands, and turns to leave. Before he departs, he glances back over to your makeshift bed. “Sleep well. We will meet again soon.”

***

Your blood burns in your veins as you run all-out, lungs heaving like bellows. You hear the pounding of your heart even over the pounding of your footfalls on the forest floor. You leap over a fallen log, but miscalculate in the dusky twilight—your foot slips on the bark, and you come crashing to the ground, scraping your elbows on a pile of sticks.

There’s no time to wince or catch your breath. As you pick yourself up, a glance over your shoulder tells you the wraith is close behind.

Just a little farther.

A blue streak of stunner blast sails over your head, urging you onward, ducking behind trees and bramble to keep him from getting a clean shot. You race through a small clearing with a leaf-covered floor, and just dart out the other side when you hear it—SSHHWIK!

“Argh!!” the wraith cries out, swept off his feet and suspended upside down after triggering your spring snare.

You saunter back into the clearing, victorious, and can’t help but snicker at his appearance. His arms and hair dangle below his head, a few feet off the ground, and the long tails of his dark leather coat have fallen over him, exposing a sliver of green-hued belly that you’re very tempted to tickle.

“Well, well, well,” you taunt, circling him. “Looks like somebody made the mistake of chasing me through an area I’ve had enough time to trap. Didn’t your little tracking device warn you I’d been through this way? How unfitting a commander to make such an obvious blunder.”

He growls sulkily at you. “Yes, yes, well done. Now cut me down.”

“I don’t know. Such humiliating failure must be punished first, I think.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously and he snarls, “You would torture me? I have spared your life out of sentimental weakness—and at the first opportunity you turn on me. I thought…” his voice softens with a slip of genuine sadness, “I thought you enjoyed our new arrangement.”

Your heart aches so sharply it catches you off guard—you really have grown fond of him—but you stay in character. “Come now. I finally caught you this time,” you say in a low voice, crouching down to his level until you are close enough to feel his breath on your lips. “I deserve a reward.”

“Ah,” he exclaims in a long breath, understanding. His lips twist into a devilish smirk. “What sort of punishment did you have in mind?”

You lower your mouth to his, and he greets you, familiar and eager, sharp teeth nipping at your lower lip, tugging at it as you slowly pull away.

“I have a better use for that mouth of yours,” you say, standing. You unfasten your pants, skin prickling and face flushing as you work them off, while the wraith watches, narrow pupils flaring open with desire. A throbbing between your legs aches to be satisfied. You stand over him. “I can’t help thinking, it would be a shame not to take advantage of your being stuck at exactly the right height…”

“Well, if I must earn my freedom,” he purrs. “Whatever your highness commands…” His clawed hands grab your thighs for leverage, digging into your skin as he pulls himself toward you.

He eases his mouth over your heat, tongue teasing your tender flesh. You give a sharp gasp as he makes contact, feeling the warmth begin to spread between your legs. He chuckles softly at your reaction before sucking eagerly at your arousal, drawing an even louder moan. Your back arches almost involuntarily.

“Th-that’s good,” you whimper, trying to sound commanding.

He’s caught in your trap, beneath you, making wet noises as he licks and strokes to please you, yet you still feel like you’re at his mercy. You rock your hips against his warm tongue, wrapping your arms around his hips and burying your face to stifle your cries as you’re flooded with sensation. As you cling to him, you feel his hard bulge growing against your cheek.

“That feels so good… you deserve a reward too.”

You free him from his pants and take his length into your mouth. He moans into you, a hiccup in his rhythm, but keeps working you dutifully. You can’t believe how arousing it is having his cock fill your mouth as he licks you—its head is covered in small barbs that look sharp, but are fleshy and soft, massaging the inside of your mouth as you lap at his shaft, bobbing up and down, taking pleasure in each muffled grunt and whine you can draw from him, feeling him grow even harder. The taste is musky and not quite human, but familiar. There is something powerful in the taste of a wraith’s cock that makes you powerful in taking it.

You can already feel yourself close to the edge. Though you try to keep up a rhythm, it’s hard to focus on his needs when his tongue is hitting you in just the right places to make you oblivious to anything but the waves of tension building inside you, threatening to break. He slides a hand up under your shirt, feeding organ contracting and expanding like kisses against your skin. He circles around your chest until coming to rest on a nipple. It latches on like a suction cup, and hits you with a euphoric shock that surges through the hardened peak and spreads under your skin like warm electricity. You scream, gagging around his hardness, and come hard into his mouth, unable to hold back. He keeps licking and sucking you mercilessly, riding you through each spasming wave of your orgasm until you’re completely spent, and have to push him away, panting hard and nearly sobbing.

“Did you enjoy that trick?” he flexes his feeding hand. “I thought it might put you over the edge, and my jaw was beginning to get tired.” He’s been swinging like a pendulum since you pushed him. “Now will you let me down?!”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Your cheeks heat.

You pull a hidden knife from your boot and quickly saw through the snare rope. Instead of crashing comically on his head like you’d half anticipated, he flips to his feet with feline grace. On the ground again, he towers above you, reclaiming his physical advantage—the superior strength and healing power of the wraith. Your heart flutters instinctively, preparing you to run.

Then he wrings the slippery fluids out his beard, and suddenly you forget he was ever intimidating. His hair is a mess framing his well-fucked face, saliva dripping up it, too, toward his eyes.

“Did I satisfy you, my master?” he smiles, eyes glinting with false obsequiousness. But it’s enough that he plays along for you.

“You did exceptionally well today, servant.”

He nods in approbation. “Then perhaps you’ll allow me to take my own prize? Only if you permit it, of course.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you tease. “Maybe I should make you chase me again first. There are rules to this, you know.”

Without warning, he sweeps your feet from under you and has you pinned to the ground before you know what’s happened. “Caught you,” he smiles.

“Hey, no fair!”

“That must be record time.”

You’re about to pretend to protest, but he’s already kissing your neck, his hot breath in your ear turning you on all over again. You nuzzle into his silvery hair.

“Very well, then.”

[thisisawesomeness1825]

oops, i (fake) love you, ch.08

viii. Percy

"We're screwed up," Percy mutters while running his hand through his hair.

"Right we are," Annabeth mumbles. She's leaning on the wall of the janitor's closer she pulled him to, right after their confrontation with his friends.

Confrontation. Sounds about right.

Once they've concocted a believable backstory, Percy had foolishly believed that it will be the end of their problems. That it would finally convince his unbelieving friends on his and Annabeth's fake dating ploy. But no. It had to be replaced with a bigger problem: a double date with Piper and Jason.

"Ugh. I can't believe this," he says. The absence of light makes it difficult for him to see Annabeth, but he assumes that she's frowning too. "Double date with them? Pshh. As far as I know, they haven't been dating until now. They just probably made that up."

"I get the feeling that they still don't believe us. They staged a fake dating of their own to observe our relationship. They want to catch us faking it," Annabeth concludes.

"That's what I think too." Percy sighs. He's just tired of lying to his friends. Should he just cancel this whole arrangement? "Do you think we can pull this off?"

Through the thin light coming from the door, he sees her shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. But they're certainly going to expect more from us."

"How much more?" he can't help but ask.

"Enough to get them off our backs," she answers. Annabeth removes herself from the wall and tugs his hand. "C'mon. We can't be late. I don't want to get caught in the closet while classes are going on."

"Or you just don't want to get caught in the janitor's closet with me?"

"I don't want to be caught in a closet at all, thank you very much."

"Why? Cause it would tarnish your good girl reputation?" Even through the darkness, he can feel the heat of her glare. That's just how powerful it is. "I mean, being caught in the closet would definitely seal us as a couple. Don't you think that will make things easier for us?" he says with a smirk.

"Shut up," she retorts and shoves him to the side. Annabeth quickly opens the closet door and steps out.

Then she freezes.

Deciding that going to class is the better thing to do, he pushes against the doors and Annabeth's body. His eyes find the shocked look of a girl from their mythology class. Juniper, if he'd remember correctly.

Annabeth starts waving her hands frantically. "I swear, it's not what you think—"

Juniper, bless her, starts blushing and nods her head. "Of-of course. I really didn't see you two coming out of the janitor's closet. I'm just a regular student passing by a regular closet without any activity happening inside it at all." She gulps at the mortified look on Annabeth's face. It's so funny Percy wants to laugh, but he really doesn't want to invoke the blonde's anger upon him.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what I saw at all," Juniper mumbles before dashing out of the corridor.

"But nothing really happened...," Annabeth argues weakly. Then she rounds up to him, poking his chest repeatedly. "You! Why didn't you deny it?"

He raises his hands defensively. "It's useless arguing about it. She saw what she saw. We can't do anything about that. Besides, Juniper is trustworthy. She won't just tell anyone."

"You better be right or else I'm gutting you like a fish," she says. "Ugh. All those years of building my reputation, and I'm reduced to a closet girl."

"With me," he adds. "That's a very important fact."

"Not really," Annabeth says as she rolls her eyes. Then she struts off, leaving him alone.

"You're late," is what Annabeth says the moment he enters the diner.

To be fair, it's not like he wanted to be late on purpose. It just so happened that the diner is a little harder to find than what he initially thought. It's basically a hole in the wall, with its faded brick walls and warm atmosphere.

Percy sits across her. "This place is hard to find."

She smiles. "Can't have them spying on us."

"How did you come across this place anyway?"

"I was having a bad day then. I took off and walked aimlessly. And then I saw this. This has been my safe haven after that."

"Thanks for trusting me with this," he says with a smile.

"I don't really trust you. More like, I'm forced to trust you."

"Way to hurt my feelings, Chase." He makes a choking motion and pretends to hold his heart in his fist. He holds up his palm. "Look at my heart, it's all broken."

Annabeth makes a stabbing motion at his heart. "Oh no! I hope it's dead."

"Why you cruel girl."

"And you're a clueless boy who can't keep track of time."

"You're mean," Percy says while clucking his tongue. "Really mean."

"At least I can flirt," she teases.

"That's a low blow."

A waitress skips towards the table. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail. And she looks regally bored as ever. Her name tag reads "Reyna".

"Welcome to CC's diner. How can I help you?" She recites in monotone as she hands them the menu.

"I'll have my regular," Annabeth says without looking at the menu.

"I'll have, um, a large fries and a guinea burger? Wait, is this made from a guinea pig meat?" He looks up questioningly at Reyna. The girl doesn't spare him a glance. "Who's this?" she asks Annabeth.

"That's Percy. My boyfriend."

Reyna's eyes peruse him like a scientist observing a rare species. Then she shrugs, unfazed. "He doesn't look like your type."

"Um," Percy interrupts. "He's just right in front of you."

"Guinea burger is not made from guinea pig meat. The burger is just shaped like one," Reyna answers to his previous question. "Now, will you order it?"

"Ah, I guess."

"Good." Reyna scribbles something on her note and then she skates off.

He faces Annabeth. "I didn't know we're still pretending here."

The blonde just raises her eyebrows. "Reyna goes to go to Goode."

"Oh." He hasn't seen her before. "Why are we here anyway?"

"I need to know how you will do on your first date before going on a double date with Piper and Jason. She pauses and looks at him. "This is your first date, right?"

He blushes at the question. So, he might not be the best guy around the dating department (and probably the only one in their school who is yet to go on a first date) that's why the question makes him extremely embarrassed.

"So that's a yes?" Annabeth asks as she gestures to his blushing face. He nods. "Don't worry, everyone is awkward in their first date."

This catches his attention. "You? Awkward? No way."

She laughs at the disbelieving look on his face. "Yes, I was. Remember 7th grade when I still had my braces? That's how awkward I was."

He grins at the thought. She had really been awkward then, especially around the girls their age who were more flawless and more feminine. Her insecurity is the one thing he's glad she had left.

"Who's your first date?" he asks out of curiosity.

The smile on her face slips a little. She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. You don't need to know who he is."

Something feels off, like she knows he knows the guy, but isn't willing to tell him who. Nevertheless, he respects her privacy. "Okay."

Reyna interrupts them as she brings their order while skating. He doesn't really know how she can manage to do that without spilling anything or bumping into a table at all. If that was him, he'd surely broken a bone or two as soon as he starts. Balancing is really not his thing.

Reyna places the food on their table, including a chocolate smoothie with two straws that he's sure they didn't order.

"Um," Percy begins but interrupted by Reyna's stare.

"It's on the house. Hylla says that it should make things exciting for your date."

Annabeth frowns. "I don't really know how sharing a smoothie will make things exciting, but give Hylla my thanks."

"Sure," Reyna says before skating to another booth.

"You surely have been on this place a lot," Percy comments as he unwraps his burger. "Oh! It really does look like a guinea pig." He looks at her food. "Why does yours look like a Parthenon of fries?"

"What can you do, I love architecture." Annabeth dips a fry into the smoothie and eats it. She grins. "Best trick in the book."

A chuckle bubbles in his throat. Despite all their ridiculous fights, he never ceases to find her amusing. "I think everyone knows that trick."

"What? No."

"Really."

"I'm not believing you."

"Fine. But you should know that you're not the first one to do—ow. Why would you throw a fry at me?"

"Shut up."

"But it's true!"

She throws another fry at him, but this time, he manages to catch it in his mouth. A wide grin splits his face.

"Would you look at that? I have extremely good reflexes," Percy says as chews the fry. He beckons to her. "Throw another one at me."

She throws him another one, and he catches it again. Percy mimics a bow at her like he's a magician who just finished performing his tricks in front of the crowd. "Bet you couldn't do that," he taunts with a smirk.

If he still knows her well, he can perfectly predict what she'll do next. Her thirst for competitiveness is always a blow he'd like to strike whenever the opportunity presents itself. And just as he thought, she sits up straight, her eyes shining with a challenging glint. "I really can."

He raises his eyebrow, disbelieving. "Really?"

"Yes." She inches the fries closer to him. "Try me. "

He throws her one but it just lands on the empty space beside her.

"That was just a warm-up," she explains. "Another."

Percy gives her another and another and another. And she missed every single one. The closest she got to catching it was when it hit her nose and slid down the inside of her shirt.

"Ew," he says.

She just rolls her eyes and sticks her hand inside her shirt to get the fry. An old lady happens to glance at her and looks away, scandalized.

He bends over their table laughing. "Look at what you did to that old woman."

Annabeth's leg delivers a swift kick to his legs. There's a fierce look on her face, but it's betrayed by the chuckle that escapes her mouth. "It's not my fault, you Seaweed Brain!"

The smile on his face grows. "You know, you should be wiser than to rise up to my taunts, Wise Girl."

The bright grin she sends him when she hears that old nickname makes it worth it. "You're crazy," she says.

"Crazy in love with you," Percy retorts with a wink. Annabeth raises one eyebrow at him.

And then he slams his palms on the table. "See?! That's how you flirt! Was I good? Did I earn cookie points? Did I pass the test?"

"That's pathetic," Reyna quips as she cleans the booth next to them.

"First of all, no. Don't ever repeat that to any girl ever again because that sucks. You did not earn cookie points. And you still haven't passed the test." Annabeth sips at smoothie. "Where did you pick that up?"

"A wikihow blog."

"Ah, that's why."

"Listen, wait I've got more." He brings out his phone.

"No more please."

He looks at Annabeth confidently. "Are you a water?"

"Ooh. I want to hear this." Reyna stops cleaning and stands by their booth.

"No. I'm not a water."

"Ask why."

She huffs. "Why?"

"Because you make me wet. Oh, wait—that's wrong! That's not it! Hey! Hey, stop laughing!"

Reyna laughs so hard, she doubles over. Annabeth facepalms, but there's a smile behind her hand.

Percy just groans in mortification.

Ah. So much for a first date.

A/N: Hello! Here's a quick update for now. This is just a filler chapter, as you may have noticed. And just because I can't resist, I hope you noticed that little B99 reference.

Tbh, this should've been up days ago, but I haven't had the time (classes suck!) to type the whole chapter so I had to use a speech to text program.

Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long, but I still doesn't have a draft, so good luck to me. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, so leave a review!

Lastly, if you want to see some fanarts or ask me some random questions, feel free to follow me on tumblr at: thisisawesomeness1825

[wildflowerrambles]

Flare

Author’s Note: I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. But apparently I decided to take the scenic route that belongs to Calum Hood SO

This idea popped into my head & I mean, who doesn’t enjoy the thought of Calum as a firefighter? Yes please. Also, I’ve apparently been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy lately.

I would love to hear your feedback and I really hope you enjoy! Happy reading! <3

Pairing: Firefighter!Calum Hood x Reader

Word Count: 6,149

Warnings: mentions of death, alcohol

I trudged my way across the grassy surface of the park, ignoring the ‘Please Do Not Walk on Grass’ signs. I shoved my keys into the front pocket of my pale green scrubs. The morning had been rather hectic, starting around 5am when my pager went off. Thankfully, it led to an opportunity to scrub in on a procedure in the OR.

I would be even more thankful when this surgical internship was over and I could hopefully move forward into residency. With the test coming up in a few weeks, it’s all I could think about.

Calum waved at me from the picnic table where he sat with a few of his coworkers, laughing as he realized I was avoiding the sidewalks. He and the others were dressed identically in black pants and tshirts with the fire departments logo across them.

I was just grateful to even get a lunch break and I imagine he was, too. Which was another reason I chose to ignore to silly signs littering the park.

I plopped down next to the brunette as the rest of the crew greeted me. Dumping the content of my lunchbox onto the table, I felt a little like I was back in elementary school, which was when I met Calum.

My older brother and I played soccer at the same sportsplex that Calum did. During the majority of my brother’s games, I found myself running around kicking the ball with the boys my age rather than braiding hair on the bleachers with the girls. I only knew him as one of the dudes who kept stealing the ball away from me back then.

As I entered high school, my brother was deployed overseas and my world continued to somersault after that. My parents picked us up and relocated across town before dropping me into a new school. I remember seeing Calum’s familiar face during lunch and was relieved when he didn’t shoo me away. We bonded over our mutual passion for soccer and common disdain for literary essays.

Since then, we had graduated high school and were dropped into adulthood. Calum honed in on his soccer skills for a while before choosing to pursue a different avenue. He had been volunteering with the local fire and rescue team and decided to do it full time.

I, on the other hand, pursued medical school - surgery, to be more specific. Science had always been my niche in school and something about human anatomy fascinated me. I wanted to cut things open, mend the broken; I wanted to be a surgeon.

I wrinkled my nose as I sniffed Calum’s shirt a second time.

“You smell like.. Is that kerosene?”

“And you smell like hospital,” he retorted. I nudged his elbow with mine as he cracked a smile. “We’ve been running drills in the warehouse this morning.”

I hummed, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Why do you smell so hospital?” he asked.

“I got to help with an aortic valve replacement this morning.” I sat my sandwich down, knowing I was about to go all out talking with my hands. “I got to watch a heart beat right in front of me, okay. Not from the gallery. Not from a cadaver. But with my own two naked eyes. Do you know how cool that is? I-”

“Mm,” one of the guys across the table waved his hand, “Not at lunch.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes a little. It amused me that these big, burly men could rush into burning buildings and be first responders but couldn’t handle a little anatomy talk. I suddenly heard the pager clipped to my waistband begin to beep. Pushing my top out of the way, I checked it.

“Sorry. I have to go.” I said, stuffing my food back into my bag. “Oh, and don’t forget - it’s another night of Shark Week, so I’ll see you after work.”

Calum gave me a thumbs up as his mouth was too full to speak. I jogged a few steps before turning back to the table to yell one last thing.

“And the boys are welcome to come!”

-

There was a knock on the door at a quarter until seven. I skipped away from the kitchen where I was making dinner, opening the door to find Calum standing on the other side. I apparently made a face which was his cue for explanation.

“Ashton’s family is in town. Michael is deep into a video game. And Luke-”

“Is running a little behind,” Luke chimed in as he appeared from the apartment stairs, “but brought a bottle of wine.”

I laughed, “Fitting.”

-

I bolted upright from sleep when I heard the familiar beeping going off somewhere in the distance. I untangled my legs from Calum’s lengthy ones from where he had fallen asleep opposite me on the couch. Stumbling through my slumber, I found my pager at the bottom of my purse. As soon as I stopped it from beeping, I heard Calum’s begin to go off in the living room followed by the creaking of the couch cushions.

I stepped into the laundry room to grab a clean pair of scrubs, tugging them on as Luke groaned from where he lay stretched out on the rug.

“You people need to get better jobs.”

“You’re welcome to go sleep in my bed,” I replied, looking up to see him already halfway there as I pulled on my tennis shoes.

Calum snatched his keys off the counter and headed out the door ahead of me. It was still dark outside. I glanced down at my watch then to realize it was 4:22am. Opening the door to my car, Calum did the same a few spaces over from me.

“Have a great day!” he yelled.

“You have a great day, too!”

-

Pacing down the hall, I watched as several gurneys wheeled past.  

“Multi-car pile up,” one of the nurses said, shoving a clipboard in my hands, “Go find Dr. Bridges. I think she has some scans for you to look at.”

-

Clicking through the slides again on the computer, there were no signs for concern. Dr. Bridges had been paged back to the ER and left me with Alison, a fellow intern like myself. She told us to notify her if there were any concerns and thankfully, we couldn’t pinpoint any.

“Why do you smell like a boy?” Alison asked, snickering a little under her breath.

I raised a brow and shrugged. My clothes were clean.

“Oh,” I paused, “Calum fell asleep on my couch last night. His scent always seems to linger for some reason.”

She grinned at that.

“Wipe that look off your face before I smack it off.”

“Rude,” she laughed, “He’s at your house a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He lives with three other guys. I would want to get away sometimes too if I were him,” I took the clipboard from Alison’s hands, scribbling down some notes in the patient’s chart. “Luke was there last night too. He’s probably still asleep at my house.”

I sprung up from my chair, heading to give the chart back to be signed off for release. Alison fell in beside me.

“I wasn’t implying anything. Just, given the history between you two-”

“Which was months ago,” I interjected.

“I was simply checking, that’s all. You can calm down.”

I shook my head at her as I tried to ignore the flush feeling in my cheeks.

Calum and I had kissed after a party several months ago. Liquid courage was my nemesis, and it seemed as if every time it entered my system after that night, the kissing kept happening. Things had gotten hot and heavy several times, but we drew the line at sleeping together.

After avoiding it for a while, we finally talked about it and hadn’t kissed each other since. He was my best friend, but the feelings that needed to correspond with such actions just weren’t really there.

I leaned against the nurses’ station, passing the clipboard to the nurse behind the desk and grabbing another one.

“She’s all good.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” the nurse smiled.

I flipped through the pages at hand as another round of gurneys burst through the double doors. I whipped my head around to the commotion. Dr. Bridges was already at the side of one stretcher as it wheeled past.

“Alison, go ahead and book an OR. You,” she nodded to me, “Catch Dr. Oliver when he comes in.”

I nodded as I heard the paramedics coming through the doors talking.

“Another round of the first responders were called in for backup and there was a collision on the way to the scene of the pile up. An engine and two police cars.”

My ears perked up at the man’s words. “Excuse me, did you say that a fire engine was involved in the accident?”

The man nodded.

“Do you happen to know which one? Uh, a name or number or something?”

He stuttered for a second before the guy next to him spoke up.

“I thought I overheard someone say Tabasco maybe,” he shrugged.

I felt my heart begin to beat faster.

“That’s Cal’s,” I mumbled, tossing my clipboard to the counter and taking off past the double doors. I made it outside as another ambulance had just pulled up and was opening its doors. I saw Calum sitting to the side as they pulled down the stretcher that I was relieved he wasn’t on, but my concern grew.

“Cal!”

His shirt was streaked with blood, a gash on his bicep oozing crimson.

“Calum!” I bounced to his side as someone handed a gauze to press against his wound.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, “The blood isn’t mine and I just need a few stitches. But that’s Cameron in there. That’s Cam.”

It was then that I noticed the tears in his eyes as he pointed in the direction of his friend and continued to ramble out of panic.

“Y/N!”

I turned to the source of yelling, seeing Dr. Oliver waving me in his direction.

“The patient’s spleen has already ruptured. We need to get him to surgery now. You’re scrubbing in.”

I glanced back to Calum who squeezed my hand.

“He’s one of my best friends. Please take care of him.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on his hand before darting off with Dr. Oliver.

-

I stood, holding the instruments in hands steady as Dr. Oliver worked across from me. Once inside, there had been much more damage than we initially suspected. The monitor began to beep frantically.

“His bp is dropping,” the doctor called out. There were people rushing around, supplies being passed back and forth, a whirlwind of things taking place around me in the crowded operating room.

-

I took a deep breath as I followed Dr. Oliver to the waiting area. I saw Calum sitting in the far corner, his arm freshly stitched and bandaged. He was surrounded by a few other guys from the station. He was the first to look up, locking eyes with me almost immediately.

His brows furrowed and I shook my head the slightest amount. His eyes fell and I stayed behind to allow Dr. Oliver to deliver the devastating news. I watched as their heads fell into their hands and tears began to run down my best friend’s face.

-

Calum gave up on fidgeting with his tie and walked over to where I was applying lipstick in the mirror. I pushed the black fabric into place, straightening his collar to lay flat.

Cam had started at the station the same day that Calum did. They had been placed on the same team since day one and had fought many fires together, ran into many smoldering building alongside one another. A few day ago, Cameron had been laughing at our lunch table and then I had to hear someone call his time of death.

There was no way I wasn’t going to be by my friend’s side and let him squeeze my hand so tight I thought it might break.

I looked up as Calum’s heavy lidded eyes stared down at my concentration. His eyes always reminded me of a fresh cup of coffee. The kind you would drink on a cool morning while the wind blew through your hair, peaceful and pleasant. But today they were filled with sadness.

“Ready to go?” I asked softly.

He nodded, grabbing his coat.

-

Calum was making small talk by the time we made it back to my apartment, which let me know that he was going to be okay. He had been incredibly quiet the past few days which was beginning to worry me, but little pieces of himself were starting to show again.

I had taken the morning off to be with him. Once he had fallen asleep on the couch, I decided to go on in for the evening shift. I covered him with a blanket and tip toed out the door.

I was still wearing my black dress and heels when I got to the hospital. Alison was waiting for me when I entered the locker room, sitting on one of the benches.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Hard,” I sighed, unzipping my dress and pulling my top over my head, “But Cal’s gonna be okay.”

I slipped into the bottoms, lacing my tennis shoes before shoving my belongings into the open locker.

“Why didn’t you just change before you got here?” she asked, handing me my badge as I worked my hair into a ponytail.

“He fell asleep on my couch,” I waved a finger in her face when I saw a smirk begin to tug at the corners of her mouth, “Don’t even start.”

-

I tread lightly into my house a little after midnight, startled by the noise. Ashton and Michael sat on the couch, yelling at the video game on the tv screen. Calum balanced on the arm of the couch, screaming along with the other two.

“Um, hi?”

I kicked my shoes off at the door and tossed my keys next to my purse on the ground. They paused the game briefly to say hello as Calum pushed himself up and followed me into the kitchen.

“Where’s Luke?”

“He was in one of his moods where he plays music too loud and sits in the shower,” Michael answered bluntly, “We had to get out.”

I laughed as they went back to playing. Grabbing a water from the refrigerator, I turned to Calum who was leaning against the counter.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked.

He grinned, “What gave it away?”

“My house smells like popcorn. You only eat popcorn when you’ve discovered the stash of beer in the back of the refrigerator.”

“Guilty,” he shrugged with a grin, “How was work?”

I turned my back to him, reaching for an apple from the basket of fruit. I began cutting it into bite sized slices.

“Not too bad actually. I got to scrub in on an appendectomy and a cholecystectomy.”

As I continued slicing and rambling on about my evening, a pair of arms found their way around me, hands resting against the bar. I noted the familiar initials inked on them and before long felt Calum’s chest against my back. His lips ghosted over my neck, leaving a delicate trail behind. I bit away the tug of pleasure on my lips as I laid the knife I was cutting with down.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled under my breath. He reached for the ponytail holding my hair in place and tugged it loose. I spun on my heels, taking the stretchy band from his fingers and sliding it onto my wrist.

“You’ve had a long day,” I took the apple slices and wrapped them in a paper towels, “And I have rounds first thing in the morning, so I’m gonna head to bed. You guys are welcome to stay up. Just be sure to turn everything off before you go to sleep.”

Calum nodded before I headed to my room, shutting the door behind me.

-

I looked over at the time again before returning my eyes to the ceiling. I had been laying in bed for almost an hour and had yet to fall asleep. I could hear the boys still playing video games in the living room, but that wasn’t why. I could fall asleep just about anywhere. Noise didn’t bother me.

I kept thinking back through all the times Calum and I had locked lips over the past few months. And then to the conversation we had about keeping the recreational smooches to a bare minimum. We knew we weren’t trying to send each other mixed signals; it was best if we just cut out that bit so our friendship didn’t stand the chance of getting weird.

So why was I so put off by his advances tonight? It wasn’t the drinking. We’d been tipsy in every other occasion. I didn’t want to blame it on the fact that he’d just lost a friend. Typically in emotional situations, he’s light a cigarette and get back to business, which I’d seen him do lately.

Was it because the other boys were in the next room?

I turned on my side, burying my face in the pillow with a groan. I desperately needed to fall asleep, like an hour ago.

-

Life was back to being fast paced.

I sat across the table from Calum outside at a local coffee shop. It was well past 10pm and I was trying not to choke on my food from laughing so hard. There were very few people out at this hour, most of them like us with jobs that had chaotic schedules.

“I can’t believe he did that,” I wiped my hand on a napkin, shaking my head, “Actually, yes I can. It totally sounds like something he would do.”

Calum let out an audible sigh as laughter died in the back of his throat. He rubbed his thumb over the glass of his cup that was accumulating moisture. I pulled my knee into my seat, resting my chin against it.

“Gotta stay at the station tonight?”

“Yep. I’m on call.” Calum checked his watch before scooting his chair back and gathering his trash. “I should probably head that way.”

I followed suit in cleaning up my area, stalking next to the tall boy as he walked me to my car. Like the gentleman Mrs. Joy and Mr. David raised him to be, he opened my door and motioned me inside. He paused to lean against the open door.

“I think we’re planning to meet Mali for drinks tomorrow night if you want to come.”

“Heck yeah,” I grinned lazily, “Just let me know when you get off work.”

“I will,” he nodded as he forced himself to stand straight. “Drive safe.”

-

The buzzing atmosphere of the bar smothered me the moment I stepped inside. I managed my way through the sea of people over to the corner where I saw the boys standing around.

“Hey,” I cooed excitedly as I tugged on the arm of Calum’s leather jacket. He greeted me with a beaming grin as he turned around, drinking sloshing in his hand. His eyes wasted no time scanned the length of my figure.

“Well, don’t you look extra nice tonight,” he noted.

I bit my lip, running my fingertips along the fabric of the tee he wore underneath, pinching the material lightly.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister fireman.”

I spotted Mali walking back up from getting a drink at the bar and waved. Wiggling my way through to give her a hug, I noticed Calum place his hand in the small of my back to allow me past him. It lingered a little longer than I felt necessary, and I caught him doing it randomly throughout the night. It was a small gesture, one that felt foreign yet familiar all at once.

As the night drew to a close, we each caught an Uber in groups to head back to our respective homes. My face tingled from the alcohol in my system as I peered out the window. Mali was still talking animatedly with her brother next to me.

Her place was the first stop. The two of us waved goodbye and promised to meet up again with her soon. Next was Calum’s house. From the looks of it, the other three boys had already made it back, several lights being turned on throughout the place.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight,” I said, leaning into his side.

“Anytime,” he smiled, “Let me know you make it home safely, okay?”

I nodded, his brown eyes staring down at me. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before scooting out the door.

Turning my gaze forward, I noticed the driver looking at me in the rear view mirror.

“What?”

He shrugged, his voice pleasant, “You guys are cute.”

Instead of arguing the fact, I allowed myself to not fight the heat rising in my cheeks, a grin daring to creep up with it.

“Thanks.”

-

I met Luke on the sidewalk as I made my way to their front door, Petunia’s nails clicking as she walked happily next to him.

“Cal should be clothed but I make no promises about the others,” he said. Always reassuring, I thought. “But fair warning - he’s not in the greatest of moods.”

Upon entering, I could hear piano chords being played from the back of the house but no voices. The other boys must be upstairs. Dropping my keys in a nearby chair, Calum’s dog rounded the corner and made a b-line to me, wagging his tail enthusiastically around my ankles.

“Hey there buddy.”

Duke always did bring out the soft side of me, causing me to talk to him in my baby voice. It was a little embarrassing at times. After satisfying him with pets, he trailed along beside me as I made my way through the downstairs.

Calum sat at the piano, still dressed simply in black shorts and a white tee with a black cap over his messy hair. They must have drilled today at the station.

Sneaking up behind him, I poked him gently in the side. His body flinched slightly before he turned his head to find it was just me. I leaned against the edge of the piano as his fingers continued to roam across the black and white keys until he finally came to a stop.

“Not a great day, huh?” I asked softly.

He rubbed his eyes as he let out a single chuckle; he shook his head.

“It was the new guy’s first day.” he paused as I took a seat on the piano bench beside him. “I remember what it was like to be new and not really know what I was getting into. And I know he’s coming in under unfortunate circumstances, but.. He’s not Cameron.”

Calum let his index finger hit a key lazily at random. I could tell he was still deep in his thoughts.

“What’s the first thing I do when I meet a patient for the first time? Or when I’m reporting to an attending?”

He looked down at me, his brows knitting together.

“Their name,” I answered, “I say their name. It helps us to establish a sense of relationship with the patient. What’s the new guy’s name?”

“Uh.. Graham.”

“Greet him that way,” I let me fingertips tuck themselves away underneath his arm, his hand gripping the seat. I leaned a little closer. “You said you remember what it was like, and he probably feels out of place. But he will never take the place of Cameron. You know that.”

He nodded subtly as his gaze fell to my finger tracing the horseshoe inked on his forearm. I stared at his solemn expression, his weary eyes.

“Go get your cleats,” I stated. He looked up at me with confusion.

“What?”

“Go get your cleats.”

“Why?”

“Just go grab your cleats!” My tone was more demanding than either of us expected, but he stood up and headed for the stairs. “And meet me at my car.”

-

“Is this considered breaking and entering?” Calum asked as I fumbled with the lock on the gate. There was a large enclosed field a few blocks from the hospital. It was dark now and the stadium lights had automatically switched on.

“I know the lock combination. We use this place all the time for events, and I work at the hospital so I’m taking my chances.”

He chuckled, tossing the soccer ball back and forth between his hands. Pushing the gate open, he darted around me, dropping the ball to the ground and kicked it forward. I dropped my belonging to the grass as I heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

I rolled my eyes as Calum showed off some of the many tricks he still had.

“Are you gonna pass me the ball or not?” I yelled.

About that time, the ball zoomed past me. My mouth fell open. Calum laughed.

“You have to be ready at all times!”

I shook my head and turned to chase the ball. I stared down at the purple and turquoise cleats I’d gotten back when I first started college as I passed the ball between them.

Calum had always been so good at soccer. I remember envying him in high school and thinking he was absolutely insane when he gave it up. But he was also an insanely good fireman so I guess I couldn't give him too much grief for it.

-

Calum bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. I took advantage of the moment, kicking the ball past him and snatching the hat off his head along the way. He threw his hands up; I grinned, pulling it on over my head, the end of my ponytail hanging rather loose around my neck. I did a little dance as I kicked the ball into our makeshift goals.

“You have to be ready at all times!” I mocked. He placed a hand on his hip before pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe sweat from his forehead. The dark curls he had concealed were now on full display.

I felt a bit of moisture run down my arm. Thinking it was sweat, I ignored it until I felt it again. And again.

Calum and I both turned our faces to the sky as raindrops began to pour. I noticed the droplets begin to drench his already sweaty tshirt. He’d chosen a great day to wear white.

I wasn’t phased by a little rain and darted down the field while my friend was still distracted. He snapped out of it pretty quick, sprinting in my direction. He managed to snatch the ball from underneath me.

Quick to act, I stuck myself in front of him. I managed to steal the ball back but he immediately intersected and got it again. I snarled lightheartedly, sticking my arms out as he tried to get around me.

“Hey, that is not fair,” he said in my ear. I giggled as he continued to struggle, watching mud that had begun to form  hit my socks. “Y’know what?”

I felt Calum wrap his arms around my midsection and lift me up. He kicked the ball as hard as he could to send it out of my reach before spinning us in a circle; chuckles fell from our mouths.

My feet finally planted the ground as Calum’s became tangled with mine, sending us tumbling to the soggy grass. Another wave of laughter escaped us as I sat up and looked over to Calum who was laying on his back, letting the raindrops continue to cover him.

My breathing began to steady as he peered up at me. Sitting up, he plucked the black cap off my head that I’d stolen earlier, pulling it over his saturated locks. He flashed me a grin as I shoved his shoulder.

We took the opportunity to race for the building just outside the wire fencing that provided an awning to escape the rain. I plopped down on the cement, stripping free of my cleats and dirty socks. Cal hung his hat on his knee and ran a hand through his hair. I listened to the rain fall, peaceful and steady; it had picked up a little now.

“Cam was planning to propose to his girlfriend,” Cal mumbled after being quiet for a while. “He had a ring and everything.”

I scooted back to lean against the wall next to him, sadness washing over me.

“Tragedy makes you question a lot of things. I know we stare death in the face almost daily, but it’s different when it hits so close to home,” he paused and I nodded in agreement. “I like you.”

His statement caused me to stop rubbing at the dirt on my hands and look at him. I saw his jaw flex before he continued to speak.

“And not in the ‘it’s 2am and I’m stuck trying to fall asleep in an uncomfortable bunk bed by myself at the station’ sense. But the.. ‘2 in the afternoon when I have to run errands after an early morning call’ kind. I find myself wondering if you were able to finish your breakfast before rounds, or if you skipped lunch and settled for a cup of coffee so you could scrub in on some awesome surgery.”

He finally looked me in the eyes, “I like you, and I’ve only ever kissed you when I was drinking because at least I’d have something to blame it on if things went wrong. And I am strangely sober right now.”

I stifled a laugh as he smirked. His gaze went back to his feet, playing with a loose string on the hemming of his shorts. I took a moment to admire him. I was also strangely sober, and he apparently didn’t know I had been fighting the same feelings.

As my eyes flickered down to his lips, my hand reached over and took his chin. I leaned over and pressed our lips together. After a moment, I felt him relax into the unexpected action. His hand found my waist and gently drew me closer.

It wasn’t like the kisses we shared before that were sloppy and erratic. It was purposeful, filled with intent and emotion. He nipped at my bottom lip a little which caused me to smirk a bit.

Another roar of thunder is what pulled us apart, the sound closer than it had been before. Calum bit at his lower lip, trying hard not to grin so wide.

“We should probably get going,” he muttered, his forehead resting against mine.

I pushed myself off the ground as he did the same, bending over to pick up my things. He stepped out into the rain to head back to the field to grab the soccer ball we’d left behind. I noted the amount of mud covering the back of his shirt from when we’d fallen earlier.

“Hey,” I called. He paused just inside the gate to turn my way. “You better not get the inside of my car muddy!”

He smirked with his tongue between his teeth before reaching over his head and pulling off his shirt, tossing it for me to catch. I shook my head as I caught it, warmth rising in my cheeks as I watched him jog off shirtless.

-

The hospital had been insane as of late with long demanding shifts and people competing for surgeries. But I still smiled a little when I thought about the fact that I had passed my exam and was finally a first year resident.

I dropped onto the couch the second I made it home. I probably hadn’t slept in about 40+ hours; my feet were killing me and I was beyond exhausted.

Nearly asleep, I heard the knob of my front door being turned followed my heavy footsteps. Calum’s scent hit me before he ever did. I groaned when I felt his body weight press down on me, his arms on either side of my body as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“I was almost asleep,” I whined.

“I’m sorry,” he answered, giving my cheek another peck. He sat up and began to strip off his jacket, laying it on the coffee table. Next, he moved to his shoes, kicking them off. He took an extra second to pull my own shoes off because I’d been too lazy to do so before he settled back on the couch with me. I snuggled my back closer to his chest as he brushed my hair away from my face.

“Are you going to be free Friday night?” he asked low in my ear. I nodded, eyes still closed. “We’re having a banquet in memory of Cameron, and I would love for you to come with me.”

“Of course I will,” I rested my hand on top of his, “But for now - snuggles and sleeps.”

He let out a low chuckle in my ear and I felt chill bumps forming on my skin.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, pressing his lips to the base of my neck.

-

Calum stuck his arm out and I happily looped mine through his. As we made our way to the front of the venue, he caught me checking him out again. He looked so handsome in his button up tucked neatly in his black trousers. I couldn’t help myself.

I placed a quick kiss on his lips before rounding the corner with him to the entrance. After greeting the chief and finding our table, he slipped off to speak to a few colleagues. I wandered over to the refreshments to grab each of us a drink. I got in line behind a lady who looked to be around my age. She looked familiar but I couldn’t put a name with the face.

“Hi, I’m Amelia,” she said sweetly, offering her hand to shake, “I was Cameron’s girlfriend.”

Was. That’s why I recognized her. I introduced myself and I could tell she was trying to place me as well.

“I’m Calum’s girlfriend,” I added. That was the first time I’d really said those words aloud to someone and I couldn’t contain the extra bit of enthusiasm. I just hated that she happened to be the recipient of it.

She laughed, “Ah, yes. It’s about time. The few times Calum and Cam hung out, he would mention you. Cam always tried to get him to make a move. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the young lady he spoke so highly of.”

“Well thank you,” I was flattered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

We got our drinks and went our separate ways back to our seats. Calum had already made it back and glanced up as I sat his drink in front of him. He gave a grateful smile before taking a sip. He caught me staring again, but this time it wasn’t just because of his dashing looks.

“Are you checking me out again?” he asked, taking another sip. I snickered, lacing our fingers together.

“I adore you, y’know that?”

His features lit up gradually, a smile reaching all the way to his eyes. He squeezed my hand and brought the back of it to his lips.

“I adore you, too.”

We turned our attention to the stage as the lights began to dim and the chief began to speak.

“Thank you so much to each of you for coming out tonight in memory of someone very special to us. I’ve actually asked a close friend of Cameron’s to come speak a few words. Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Calum Hood.”

I joined in applause with the other guests. Calum  hadn’t told me he’d been asked to speak, which was probably to ease his nerves a bit. I watched as he took the stage and began to recap certain moments in his friendship with Cameron.

Unfortunately, tragedy often does make us rethink our own lives. It puts things in perspective.

I realized that my life was now filled with pagers and surgeries and schedules that screwed up my sleep. Before long I’d be taking on a fresh set of interns that had the same high hopes as me, and I’d get to come home to Calum in a way I hadn’t before.

I realized that this was my life, and that was my man.

And I couldn’t be more grateful.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Fracture 7/10

Please note that this chapter references torture, drugging and character death. I sobbed some ugly tears writing this. It honestly hurt me

If you like Juyeon, go love on @yoosungshoodie, since Juyeon is her OC. The banner comes from @kiserusmoke!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue | AO3| Masterlist

Three months ago

Nari’s train was running late. She frowned at the timetable, muttering to herself that of course it was . She had chosen to take it as an experiment, one that she was careful to lie to her family and friends about. As far as they knew, she was doing it for the environment, when in reality she was considering selling her car. She doubted she would be unemployed for long, but if that proved to be the case, using the bullet train would be easier on her finances than a car.

She took a seat as she waited for the next train, taking her phone from her pocket. She had been checking the business and job listings of three different news sites and loaded up the first, frowning almost immediately when the page finally loaded.

KOREA’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR: an exclusive interview with the heir to C&R

She could not deny that he was handsome, but the carefully posed photograph inside of his office only added insult to injury. It was difficult not to imagine those stern features dismissing her from C&R.

Nari opened her emails instead, scrolling through the usual spam and lingering over a particularly curious entry.

Paradise awaits you, Nari Song

With a smirk, she opened the e-mail, expecting some kind of shopping coupon or horoscope spam. The actual e-mail was even more cryptic, though, and she read over it several times to try and gauge its meaning.

Don’t you want to escape from this filthy world?

This is an invitation to paradise.

Are you suffering from your past?

We will help the pain go away.

A world filled with pleasure…

A world filled with truth…

A world with no tears….

A world with no rejections…

Accept the angel’s invitation and enter the mysterious messenger.

There was a link at the bottom and Nari clicked it, curious of the messenger and quietly acknowledging the clever marketing at play. No matter how many pretty words an advertisement had, there was no match for a person’s natural curiosity. The appstore entry was equally as vague, listed as the angel’s invitation with no screenshots. Two people before her had offered reviews, claiming their lives were changed as a result of the app, offering no further details than that. Nari read over the page twice before clicking download. She had nothing better to do, after all.

Her train arrived as the app finished downloading and she watched her screen as she gripped the nearest railing. By the first stop, she had created a login and proceeded to the opening screen, which offered no answers either, looking exactly like a messenger platform, with icons for e-mail and some form of texting function. She tapped at each, taking in the empty contact pages and coming to the conclusion that it was some kind of chat room, even if no one appeared to be online.

She was about to put her phone away, deciding to take another look later on, when the screen went blank, displaying green letters of code that she did not recognise.

Three months later

“What foods do you like?” Ray asked, arranging a fresh napkin on a saucer for his guest.

“Hmm?”

Judging from her expression, she was curious of his motives and he couldn’t find it in himself to blame her. The elixir of salvation was, after all, bitter on the senses and he did not want her to suffer any more than was necessary. The very thought of her face crumbling into one of agony left his heart skipping beats and palms clammy.

He had never been able to stand the thought of her coming to harm; had picked her out from hundreds based on that fact alone. She was different to the others: fragile and mysterious and completely out of place in the ordinary world.

“Ah! I’m sorry to ask such a strange question,” he said, “I just wondered if my cooking suited your tastes. If you’d rather something else, I can go and prepare it for you.”

“Oh,” she said, “please don’t worry! Everything here is…”

She gestured at the table, at all of the pastries and soups and other dishes that he had prepared for her.

“This is more than enough.”

“I’m so happy you think so! Although…I must say I am still curious. I’ve never had the chance to cook for someone like you before.”

“Someone like me?”

Ray blushed, realising too late that his words might come across as offensive.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insult you!”

“You didn’t,” said Nari, her smile softening into one of sympathy. “Hmmm…let me think.”

She never got the chance to tell him, however, for C607 entered the garden and shattered the relative peace.

“Miss Song!” She called, waving and running towards the pavilion as fast as her heels would allow. “Miss Song, good morning!”

C607 had taken to her role as Assistant Park almost too well. Most of the clothes she used when in character came from her own personal collection, which she had abandoned upon her initiation into Mint Eye. The boldness of it made Ray’s toes curl; C607 discarded her beliefs as quickly as her clothes and her love for the paradise was transparently insincere.

“You weren’t in your room,” breathed C607, “I’ve been looking for you.”

She took a seat at the table and helped herself to a cup of coffee, quite deliberately not acknowledging him. He knew it was deliberate; that Miss Park had no reason to interact with him and going out of her way to do so might arouse suspicions, yet he would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him.

“Have you heard from Driver Kim?”

Nari was straight to business and Ray spotted the mean edge to C607’s smile even if she didn’t.

“I spoke to him just a few minutes ago, actually. He’s really sorry about the delay.”

“Is he…” Nari hesitated, thumbs tracing the edge of her cup, “alright?”

“Of course he is! He’s never been better.”

C607 took a sip of her coffee, leaning forward as if to whisper a secret.

“Actually,” she said, “he told me to tell you that we can leave as soon as you finish breakfast.”

Ray pretended he didn’t notice the joy in Nari’s eyes; the way she gulped down the rest of her coffee and dusted crumbs from her lap. He pretended he didn’t notice C607 reaching for her hand and guiding her away from the pavilion; away from him.

And he absolutely pretended he did not see C607 sneering over her shoulder at him.

Nari couldn’t believe her luck any more than she could hide her excitement to go home.

She all but threw her belongings together to the amusement of Juyeon, who lingered in the doorway and pointed out the things she missed.

“At this rate, that Ray guy will think you’re running away from him,” she laughed. “He is a little weird, don’t you think?”

Nari disapprovingly glanced up from her purse.

“He’s a little… enthusiastic,” she said, “but he means well.”

“Haven’t you seen those long lingering looks he gives you? I think he has a crush on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not being ridiculous! It’s clear to anyone!”

Nari sighed, turning to chastise Juyeon, only to freeze at the sight of her swooping forward with a cloth in her hand. It smelled of something, something sweet and artificial, and she writhed against Juyeon’s grasp, digging her nails into the nearest arm and throwing back her head to try and loosen the one gripping her hair.

She realised it was chloroform only moments before her eyes fell shut and her body limp. She stared at her own outstretched hand, reaching and flailing, convinced she would remember Juyeon’s smile forever.

Jumin’s upcoming wedding had had something of a ripple effect on C&R. For the majority of employees it was gossip; hushed comments and carefully hidden tabloids. For the other select few, it was extra work. Almost overnight, the country had grown fascinated with Nari Song, whether it was the clothes she wore, her origins, the hidden truth of her relationship with Jumin; there was some part of her that intrigued everyone.

Suddenly the PR department had not only the prospect of a scandal to deal with, but weeks of careful research into a person that ordinarily would take months. They needed answers for any given official statement and ideas for how best to build her public image, whether it was denying the engagement came as a result of a pregnancy or scripting her replies to interview questions.

On the receiving end of arguably the highest amount of fallout was one Jaehee Kang, who found herself in an endless cycle of adjusting schedules, advising the PR department, passing on memos and more.

She had come to dread it whenever Jumin called her to his office because it never preceded anything good. This time around was no exception to the rule and she mentally reshuffled all of her recent e-mails and phone calls in an attempt to gauge exactly what Jumin was about to tell her. It seemed almost optimistic to wonder if he had a new pet project in mind.

“Mr Han?” She said, after knocking at his door. “You asked to see me?”

Jumin was in the process of flipping through the pages of one of the files from the mountain at his desk.

“Ah, Assistant Kang,” he said and waved her over, though never looked up from the file. “I have a task for you. It’s of the utmost priority.”

“Of course,” she said, pulling out the notebook she had been keeping her pocket. The constant adjustments and additions and reshuffles were difficult to keep up with at the best of times and she had taken to scribbling them down where possible.

“I need you to make a cancellation.”

“A cancellation,” she said, pen at the ready. “Of which particular appointment?”

“All of them.”

Jaehee glanced up from her notebook.

“P-pardon?”

Surely she had misheard, though that hope rapidly dissolved as he finally set aside the file in his hands.

“Sorry…that was vague,” he said. “I would like for you to cancel everything in regards to my engagement. My regular business appointments may remain the same.”

He said it casually, though Jaehee could only stare. He had finalised the design for the cufflinks he would wear on his wedding day only the night before and cancelling months of work in a single day never happened without a good reason. She wondered if she ought to ask about Nari, though decided against it. If the worst truly had happened, then reminding Jumin of the incident would only make matters worse.

Instead she accepted his task and pulled her phone from her pocket after sitting back down at her own desk.

Nari….is everything okay?

Ray had spent most of the evening and some of the morning preparing dishes for Nari’s breakfast. He had chosen each and every one based on things he had watched her eat through hacked security cameras in the penthouse she called home. He had cast his mind back to mornings in which she made coffee and wrapped her arms around Jumin’s shoulders, stepping up onto her tiptoes for kisses as he picked up his cup. He had remembered chefs entering the premises and anxiously waiting at the side of their dining table until dismissed. He also remembered Nari reaching into the back of the kitchen cupboard for sugary cereal: the same sugary cereal that Jumin occasionally reached for when he ate breakfast alone.

Ray wasn’t sure when exactly he had mentally inserted himself into every situation; cooking Nari pancakes instead of Jumin Han. He was not sure when he had decided she was miserable and only he could make her smile. They were selfish thoughts, out of line with the Saviour’s teachings, but his mind drifted nonetheless.

After Nari left with Juyeon, he returned to the kitchen, sinking his hands into the steaming dishwater and scrubbing each plate at a time. Technically speaking, he did not need to undertake such a task himself. Any given believer would happily have accepted any such order. He wanted to clear his thoughts, though, wanted to scrub the scrub the plates clean where he could not his mind. He wanted to wash away Nari’s happy expression at the prospect of returning home.

He had always condemned Juyeon and her selfishness; her desire for approval more so than paradise. The irony of it was clear to him now that he wanted Nari to smile and laugh for no one but him. He wanted her to smooth the creases out of his shirt, rearrange his tie, rush to greet him when he walked through the door. Even the sting of the hot water could not erase it.

The previous night he had reached for elixir, desperate to quieten his mind and focus. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the dark thoughts at the back of his mind, though. The whispers that repeated everything he did not want to hear.

The saviour will use her to convert Jumin Han.

He scrubbed harder.

She will choose him at the everlasting party

Harder, he scrubbed harder.

Even in paradise, she won’t love you.

He stopped, the water from the sink spilling onto the floor.

You’re wrong, he thought to himself. You’re wrong and I’m not listening to you anymore.

He squeezed his eyes open and shut, reaching to place the dish he had been washing alongside all of the others. There was no dish, though, only his hands; hands that he had so vigorously scrubbed that they were bleeding.

I won’t listen

His squeezed his hands into fists, the sting of his broken skin satisfying on the senses.

I won’t listen.

I won’t

Posing undercover as an acolyte came with an equal amount of perks and downsides. Nobody questioned Jihyun’s ignorance on the matter of their special guest and he found that some believers had curiosities of their own. It was, however, increasingly difficult to continue feigning ignorance. Even as someone outside of the castle for an extended period of time, he should have known which rooms were normally out of bounds. Twice they caught him at the stairwell and twice he lied about his presence there. Finally, on the third attempt, he changed his tactics and told a half truth.

“I want to see her,” he said, shrugging off the believer’s hand on his shoulder. “The Saviour thinks she is special…I want to see it for myself.”

It was a risky move, considering, but ultimately one that paid off. The three of them climbed the stairs to an empty floor, eerily silent to the point that everything they said and did left an echo.

“I heard her ceremony is tonight,” said one of his group, a woman, whose pretty face lay obscured by her hood. “I overheard Mister Ray telling Miss Jenny that the elixir would be ready once he added the final touches.”

Elixir

Just the word sent shivers up his spine. He knew the implications even if he did not the finer details. Jihyun stopped in his tracks, wanting nothing more than to steal Nari away from that terrible place. He opened his mouth to demand they take him to the saviour; to tell them that he was no believer. Before he could, though, footsteps rang out in the empty corridor and his heart skipped a beat.

A handful of other believers were coming towards them, led by a woman in a magenta uniform. He knew her face, despite the fact that he had only seen her on a couple of occasions.

Back when he was still recovering from his eye surgery at Jumin’s penthouse, he had taken every chance to help Nari adjust to her new role. Sometimes that amounted to describing the personality of interviewers or the places she should avoid if she didn’t want to be swarmed by the media. At other times, his help arrived in the form of making tea and reading through the seemingly endless lists of things that needed her attention.

On a few of those occasions, Nari’s assistant had visited the penthouse, though for the most part he only ever encountered her as a disembodied voice on the other end of the phone. The few times he had seen her, she had been clutching bubble tea or informing Nari of appointments added to her schedule at the last moment. He was sure he had seen her at one of his exhibitions too, though the last time he had had one he and Rika were still together, so he was sure he must have been mistaken.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense for Rika to plant someone like her so close to Nari and he wondered exactly how long she had been planning such a move. How long had Juyeon known about Rika’s plans? In any case, he realised that she must have been the ‘Miss Jenny’ the other acolytes had spoken of.

He clenched his hands into fists at what followed her; she led a number of hooded believers, one of whom cradled a body in their arms.

No. Not a body. Nari.

The acolyte held her with the same amount of care one would expect of a ragdoll, allowing one of her arms to dangle to the floor as the other lay crushed against their body.

All he could think about was her laughter all of those months ago. The three of them once played poker; Nari setting down her earrings and Jumin a book from his shelf. He had long wondered what to bet himself and ultimately set down an IOU.

“An IOU?” Jumin had said, examining the paper.

“Yes,” he said. “Whoever wins this can ask one thing of me in the future.”

“That’s potentially dangerous.”

“Are you suggesting either of us would take advantage of him?” Nari had laughed and, beaten, Jumin shuffled the cards.

Unsurprisingly, she won, and Jihyun knew from Jumin’s soft smile as she turned the pages of her new book that he was not the only one who had allowed her to win.

Of late, her laughter only left him guilty. It was his fault that she had been tricked into the apartment; his fault that she lay unconscious in front of him. Every time she laughed, he remembered Jumin’s lips against his own and his own deep, dark need to believe she could not be trusted.

He remembered Jumin’s insistences as they sat on the roof of the penthouse that they tell her about the kiss they had shared. He wanted her to know everything, and it was Jihyun who protested. He hated change, yet wanted everything to. He did not want to hurt her even slightly, yet wanted to steal away everything she held dear.

He was the one who couldn’t be trusted; Nari’s bright smile when she returned to the penthouse only serving as a cruel reminder of his betrayal. She was so eager to know if they had enjoyed the meteor shower and he realised too late her full intentions. It was no coincidence that she had left them alone together; that she had orchestrated everything in the hopes that they would repair their friendship.

He could not bring himself to regret the kiss, but he was sure he would regret the betrayal for the rest of his life.

“Juyeon,” he called, dragging down the hood of his cloak.

She seemed surprised that anyone had called out to her by name, though the shock left her as soon as she saw him standing there.

“Let her go,” he said, gaze drifting from her to Nari, his trembling hands breaking any illusion of composure.

“Well, well, well,” said Juyeon, approaching him in the same slow, practised fashion a tiger might. “What have we here?”

They took him to a cell in the basement. Jihyun knew from observations and conversations with acolytes that up until recently, such a thing was rarely done; it was the norm to take prisoners and any intruders before the saviour until they were cleansed and no longer deemed dangerous or, alternatively, died in captivity. For him to be isolated so quickly meant only one thing: he was considered an enemy of the organisation and if Rika came to see him at all, it would be to announce whatever torture she had in mind for him.

The guards draped a hood over his head that smelled mouldy, as if it was designated for drownings, and he choked at the smell as they pushed his shoulder to get him moving. They probably only walked down a couple of short flights of stairs, but it felt like he walked for miles. Finally, the guard tugged the cloak from his head and kicked him into the back of his new prison, locking it behind them with a mutter that they would come back once they had received orders.

“Come back and let me out of here,” Jihyun threw his body against the bars. “Tell the saviour to come!”

They did not acknowledge him, though, no matter how hard he shook the bars. He slumped to the floor despairingly, considering Nari’s limp body in the acolyte’s arms. In retrospect everything was obvious to him; he should never have suspected her, should never have fallen into the trap of questioning her intentions solely because she had won the heart of his friend. He should have told her everything from the beginning instead of succumbing to jealousy.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to explain her current circumstances; if he would ever be able to take her hands in his and explain how he had kissed Jumin on the roof of the penthouse. The latter scared him most of all and he could not bear to imagine her reaction. In his heart, she would always be happy and smiling, brewing good coffee and pouring bad wine. She would always be the one who laughed at his double entendres and scolded him for missing meals.

And in that moment, just like Ray before him, he realised his love for her like a storm cloud overhead.

“M….Mathter V, thir,” someone mumbled in the adjoining cell, dragging him out of his thoughts. He peered into the darkness to make out the owner and gasped when he saw.

“Driver Kim!”

This was not the Driver Kim of days past, however. This man drooled blood and had cuts across his temples.

“What happened to you?” Jihyun said, holding onto the bars that separated them. “Who did this?”

Driver Kim’s eyes glazed over at the memory and Jihyun regretted asking him.

“I’ll get you out of here,” said Jihyun, seeing the occupants of the other cells for the first time. He recognised them all; had seen their faces in Luciel’s files. They were all members of the agency and all MIA. The ones that weren’t unconscious groaned in pain at their injuries, some even chained to the floor of their cell.

“I’ll save you,” Jihyun muttered. “I’ll save you all.”

Somehow.

Nari’s senses were muffled when she opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought she was back in the penthouse and half expected Jumin to be beside her.

It came as something of a surprise when she found herself tied to a chair in a strange room, arms bound behind her back and someone, whose voice she only half recognised, muttering that she was waking up.

Nari lifted her head, instantly regretting it as a sharp headache flooded her senses. She hissed with pain, leaning over until she could see straight ahead before making a second attempt to sit up.

Juyeon was standing on the other side of the room… or at least she thought it was Juyeon. This Juyeon had on a strange magenta uniform with a rose fixed to her blazer. What’s more, even though that Juyeon stared her in the face, there was no hint of recognition in her features.

“Ju…Juyeon?”

Juyeon did not reply. It was someone else who reached for her face: someone with sharp nails and a black mask that obscured their features.

“Welcome to paradise, Nari Song.”

They reached to clamp their hand down over her nose, clutching a vial of a bright blue liquid in the other. Nari clenched her mouth shut, unable to tear her eyes away from Juyeon, who watched her struggle without a reaction. Beside her stood Ray, who fiddled with his hands and avoided her gaze.

Her chest burned and she gasped for air, giving her assailant the opportunity to force the bottle against her lips. The liquid inside was bitter, burning her throat and insides, through when she tried to spit it out the masked stranger slammed her hand over her lips, forcing them shut until she had no choice but to swallow.

“What have you….done to me?” She asked, trying to spit out the remainder of the liquid, stomach churning so forcefully that she was sure she was going to throw up.  

“Please,” she murmured, the shakiness of her hands transferring into her voice. “Let me go.”

“Don’t look so sad,” they said, so close that their breath was warm against her face. “I would never hurt someone so precious to Ray.”

Nari’s heart skipped a beat and Ray called out from the other side of the room.

“Saviour-”

“You may leave.”

Nari’s thoughts had been muddled and confused even before having a chemical forced down her throat and she dug her nails into her palms in an attempt to stop the room spinning. She remembered Juyeon’s words only a short time earlier:

At this rate, that Ray guy will think you’re running away from him. He is a little weird, don’t you think?

Haven’t you seen those long lingering looks he gives you? I think he has a crush on you.

As Ray and Juyeon left the room, Ray’s hands twitching and his expression one of concern, Nari could not help but think about how comforting it was that at least one part of her stay had been real. Perhaps it was the drug, or her own fear, but when the door closed it echoed in her senses. What was going to happen to her now? She wished Juyeon and Ray would just come back, for even if their intentions were far from pleasant, she would at the very least recognise their faces. There was something strange about their ‘saviour’; a kind of familiarity that she did not understand.

“You have such beautiful eyes,” said the saviour, “I can see why Jumin favours you.”

Nari’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you know about Jumin?”

“I know that Jumin is the CEO in-line,” said the saviour. “I know that he prefers the finer things in life… Egyptian cotton, aged whiskeys…intelligent women. Most importantly, I know that he wouldn’t let just anybody into his inner circle. Tell me, how do you find my RFA?”

Up until that point, C&R was the most obvious reason she had been kidnapped. She had, of course, forgotten that without enemies to the RFA she might never have arrived in the apartment all of those months ago.

“ Your RFA?” She said, realisation rapidly sinking in.

She finally understood why the masked woman looked familiar. Even with the mask on, her resemblance to the girl in V’s photographs was obvious.

“No,” said Nari. “You- you’re dead!”

“That’s what V told you,” said Rika, “and you must not believe his lies.”

Nari was not so naive as to think V had never lied to or kept information from her. She had watched him play poker, after all. He had an excellent poker face even as he let her win.

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“It seems he has already poisoned you,” laughed Rika. “I wonder what sweet promises he whispered in your ear to make you trust him so much.”

“He didn’t whisper anything! I know he’s a good man.”

Rika sighed, clearly unimpressed with her answer.

“Tell me Miss Song,” she said softly, placing a hand on Nari’s shoulder, “what are you afraid of? Shall I guess?”

“I…no…I-”

“Hmmmm,” Rika searched her face. “You stayed with the RFA even after there was no need for you to. You attend every meeting Jumin asks of you… could it be?”

She smiled cruelly, sending shivers down Nari’s spine.

“Are you afraid of being alone?”

Suddenly Nari was fourteen again, sticking pictures of idols she did not even like to the inside of her locker. Rika pressed a finger against her lips, coming to a conclusion before she could confirm or deny it.

“Sssssh, it’s okay,” she said. “In this place, no one will leave you. We will be kinder to you than the RFA. Nobody here will dictate how you dress or what you eat. We will not lie to you or ignore you, like Jumin and the rest of the RFA.”

Nari thrashed, eager to shake off Rika’s touch.

“I LOVE Jumin,” she protested. “I want to make him happy.”

Even as she said it, she knew how it sounded. She would not have believed her either.

“You’re very kind,” said Rika. “And so simple minded. What makes you so sure that he cares for you?”

Ordinarily, Nari would have been offended by such an insinuation. Ever since news of her engagement went public, she had scowled at so many articles about the status of her private life that Jumin had stroked her hair and warned her that she would age prematurely. Now, though, all she could think about was the clatter of her engagement ring against the kitchen tiles and Jumin’s words on the messenger.

Perhaps I only loved you because I thought you were something more. Perhaps you were always meant to be a stranger to the RFA. I think… that if I had not proposed to you so publicly, in such a way, I might never have married you.

Every breath left her mind and body fluttering, as if she bobbed up and down on a stormy sea. She hated herself and her own naivety. How had she never realised that she was being manipulated? How had she allowed herself into such a situation?

“He loves me!” She spat, closing her eyes. She refused to believe Jumin’s affection was a dream; just another stain in her ivory tower.

Rika seemed delighted by her responses, reaching out a finger to catch her tears.

“Jumin…loves me,” said Nari, more to herself than to Rika. “He loves me.”

He loves me.

She remembered Sarah Choi’s horrified expression as he leaned in for their first kiss; a kiss that tasted of pancakes and gave her butterflies.

She remembered how her hand trembled when he fell to one knee at the party.

She remembered the scent of roses against her skin as he sat behind her in the bathtub to wash her back.

He loves me .

She also remembered his expression in their last argument; the sound of him moving around the kitchen as she waited for him to knock on her bedroom door.

He loves me

He loves

He

She repeated it even as everything went black and her head lolled over onto her chest.

“Don’t worry,” said Rika, stroking her hair. “I’m not the same as them. I want you exactly as you are.”

She cupped a hand around Nari’s face, feeling for her breath against her skin. She had made such a powerful elixir and many people were not strong enough to survive the ordinary batches. Those that did came out transformed, butterflies from a painful chrysalis, wiser for their introduction into the truth of the world.

Nari’s breaths did not come, however. Rika’s hand remained as cold as it had always been. With a frown, she pressed her fingers against the other woman’s neck, feeling for a pulse where there was none.

She let go of Nari’s head, then, sighing deeply and crossing the room to pour herself a cup of tea.

Perhaps they were not so similar after all.

Three months earlier

[nobodys-pearls]

Hit on Me

A Kimax AU where Max and Kim are two pro-fighting sportscasters who are in love but haven’t realized it yet. Also cue aro/ace Alix -who’s having a lot more fun with all this than she should.

Read on [AO3]

“Okay Max, you can do it. This will be easy. Just take a deep breath and go through what you want to say, just how you practiced.” Max mumbled to himself, adjusting his glasses as he walked down the long office hallway. He reached the elevators and quickly pushed the button, tapping his foot as he waited for the light above his floor number to flash. It was oddly quiet, and all he could hear was the whirring of the pulley system, bringing the elevator up to his level.

“Why am I so nervous?” Max said to himself, looking at his reflection in the stainless steel doors. He was wearing his best suit, a sleek dark gray one that he picked out only a few weeks ago. He was even wearing his lucky green bow tie – he didn’t believe in luck in the slightest, but he thought that there was a high possibility that it would psychologically affect him, hopefully giving him more confidence. In fact, in one of the dozens of websites he was scrolling through last night, it said that wearing your favorite color could spike the area in your brain that activated…he was getting off topic.

He always did this. The more nervous he was, the more he immersed himself in numbers and statistics until it began to lose focus and forget where he was. In short, it wasn’t helping. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and adjusted his glasses once more, yet another one of his nervous habits. “You’re just talking to the woman.” He said firmly, looking at the elevator doors. “There’s a position open as the new sportscaster for the pro-fighting league, and although you manage the IT department, you are capable of doing the job. No,” Max corrected, looking back at his reflection and standing up straighter, “You deserve this job.”

Then he heard the familiar ding and watched as the elevator doors opened. He straightened his bow tie and stepped into the lift, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that it was empty. People were variables that he just could not deal with right now.

“Hey can you hold it!” A voice called from the hallway, startling Max. He watched dumbly as the doors closed in front of him, but then a hand shot out to hold them open just in time. Max looked down at his shoes in embarrassment as the man entered the elevator. He had gotten lost in his owns thoughts again. Now he looked like a jerk.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“No worries,” The voice said as the doors closed behind him. Max looked up and was met with a pair of gray eyes. “I got here just in time. I’m pretty fast.” The stranger said with a wink. Max felt something constrict inside his chest. He assumed they were his nerves, reminding him of what he had set out to do.

“It’s really no problem,” The unnamed man said. He looked like he was about Max’s age – early 20s. Max saw the concern in his eyes and realized how tense he must look.

“Sorry!” Max blurted out, fixing his glasses. “I’m just a little stressed today, that’s all.” He admitted, fighting the temptation to adjust this glasses again. He didn’t have OCD, he had been tested at a young age for that, but ever since he was little he always had certain habits that he would always go to in extremely emotionally taxing situations. Apparently .8% of French citizens suffered from some sort of…

“Why are you stressed?”

Max flicked his eyes back to the man looking at him, losing his train of thought. He saw the warmth and sincerity in the stranger’s gaze, and something about it made him a little more relaxed. “I’m asking one of the higher ups for a job change.”

“Well that shouldn’t be too bad.” The man said with a grin, leading against the elevator railing.

“It’s a big change.” Max said with a nervous laugh. Then the elevator doors opened and a woman shuffled in, her nose in her newspaper. She quietly took up the back left corner, not saying a word. Max tried not to be fazed, but he couldn’t help but think, another variable.

“What is this job change, if you don’t mind me asking?” The mysterious man with the gray eyes said, cocking his head to the side. He looked genuinely interested in what Max had to say.

“There’s a position open as a pro-fighting sportscaster.”

The man let out a short laugh.

“What?” Max questioned. He watched as the man combed a hand through his black hair. He noticed that a good portion of it was died a nice golden color. He’d never seen hair that looked quite like that, even though about 12% of people dye their hair before the age of 25, 5% of those people being…

“I didn’t peg you as a person who was interested in sports.” The man answered simply.

Max’s whole demeanor changed. He crossed his arms and stood up a bit straighter, although he was still about a foot shorter than the man in front of him. “I’ll have you know that I grew up watching every kind of sport imaginable. I memorized all the rules, all the statistics, the player’s names, the awards won, the records broken –” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I may not look like I’m interested in sports, but trust me when I tell you I know my stuff.” He looked up at the man with a determined gaze, daring him to misjudge him once more.

Max faltered when he saw the unreadable expression on the man’s face. Something in the guy’s eyes flashed and he shifted off of the railing to stand to his full height.

“That almost sounded like a challenge.” The man said. He looked like he was holding back a grin.

“Maybe it is.” Max shot back, wondering if he was about to get beat up in an elevator. This man was taller and obviously stronger than him, but he was scrappy, he could take him on, right? He glanced at the woman, who was still immersed in her paper. He didn’t think that she would come to his aid if a fight broke out. His throat became very dry all of a sudden.

The man held out his hand, and Max instinctively flinched at the movement. Then he realized that the guy wanted to shake his hand and hastily reached it out, cheeks blazing in embarrassment.

“I’m Le Chien Kim, but you can call me Kim.” The man declared, grasping Max’s hand firmly in his own. Then he leaned over to Max’s eye level. “And I should have you know that I love a challenge.” He said with a 1000 watt smile. Max’s heart skipped a beat, probably due to the fact that his life had flashed before his eyes in the moment that this guy, Kim, had offered his hand. He hadn’t anticipated this, and he was pretty good with probability.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this guy. He was unpredictable, more so than most people. And although, logically, this should have made him more uncomfortable than he usually is around people, it gave him an odd feeling of excitement.

“Who won the French PFL tournament three years ago?”

Max was initially startled by the abrupt question, but then he adjusted his glasses and said easily, “Jean Moreau for the men’s league, Renée Leroy for the women’s.”

“And what was Leroy’s record by the time she won her second championship?” Kim asked, leaning over even further, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“7 loses, 162 wins, a new record for the women’s league, and the men’s for that matter.” Max said without a second thought.

Kim straightened back up, looking impressed. “And what do you think that this year will hold for the PFL?”

Max furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, all of the most well known fighters have retired in the past two years, so there is a void in experience.” Then Max looked back at Kim. “I believe that there is going to be a new talent to come out of the woodwork, someone that nobody expected. Somebody that will make pro-fighting fresh and better than ever.” He declared with confidence.

Kim smiled wide. Then he put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “I think I have some new talent in front of me right now.” Max stared back at him with wide eyes, and then he smiled shyly as well.

“What do you think, Madam Roux?” Kim asked, turning his attention to the woman in the corner.

‘Wait, why does that name sound familiar…’ Max thought to himself.

Suddenly the woman put down her newspaper, revealing a wide grin that rivaled Kim’s. “I think we found your new partner.”

Max laughed nervously, inching towards the elevator doors. He knew he was heading for one of the higher floors, but this had taken a while, and these overly energetic people were starting to freak him out. Then it clicked.

“Madam Roux!” Max exclaimed. This was the woman he was going to talk to! He wasn’t sure what she looked like, so he didn’t recognize her at first, but she fit the description he read online perfectly, along with the grainy picture on the company’s website.

“The legend herself.” Kim said with a wink.

“Wait, but, I was going to, I mean, I wanted to –” Max began, stumbling over his words. This was not how he planned it at all. Would it even make sense to go through his script now?

“You’ve got the job.” Madam Roux said, scribbling something down on her newspaper. Then she tore a piece off and handed it to Max. “Here’s my number. We expect you to be at Charles’ Arena at 7pm tomorrow. Don’t be late.” With that the elevator doors opened and she walked into the hallway, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

“What just happened?” Max asked himself, clutching his head in one hand and looking down at the piece of newspaper.

“You just became my new partner.” Kim answered, that grin still on his face. “Um, this is your floor, right?” He asked.

“Huh? Oh! Yes, this is where I was heading…” Max mumbled, stepping out of the elevator. “What did you two mean about a partner?”

Kim rested his arm on the front of the elevator, leaning casually towards Max. “I was working for Monsieur Faure before he retired. I got promoted to head sportscaster starting this upcoming season, but I requested a partner. Guess we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.” He answered with a wink. Max gulped. Then he hastily adjusted his glasses and gripped the piece of newspaper more tightly in his hand.

“Thank you.” Max said, looking intensely at his new co-worker.

Kim dropped his arm from its place on the elevator, looking caught off guard for a moment. Then he broke into one of his blinding smiles. “Don’t thank me, you showed off all your skills. I’m just the one who pushed you a little.” Then he chucked to himself. “I have a feeling this is how this partnership is going to go. I’m looking forward to it.”

Max couldn’t help but smile a little as well. He could feel a sort of electricity in the air, which was odd, since there didn’t seem to be any exposed circuits and the atmosphere was supposed to be uncharacteristically dry today, at least according to his weather app…well, whatever this strange feeling was, he kind of liked it. It was different. Uncharted territory. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

Kim nodded his head and pressed one of the elevator buttons. Soon the doors began to close. “Wait,” He said a moment later, holding open the elevator. “I don’t know your name.”

Max pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stood up straight. “Max Kanté.” He stated.

“Max Kanté.” Kim said to himself, a strange smile on his face. Then he looked back up at the young man before him. “Until next time, Max.” He let the doors close in front of him and soon Max was left alone in the hallway. He watched as the lights above the elevator flashed, and the pulley system whirred once more. Then he took a deep breath.

“Well that was…unexpected.” Max mused, still frozen in place. Who knew something so spontaneous, could turn out so perfectly? For once in his life, he didn’t have a fact or statistic to explain how he was feeling, what had just happened. He found himself struggling to find a word to describe just how gray Kim’s eyes were. Then he shook his head and headed down the hallway, willing his legs to move in a steady rhythm.

He looked down at that piece of newspaper for what might have been the hundredth time. Charles’ Arena. 7 pm tomorrow. “I did it.” Max said to himself, unable to hold back his grin. “I really did it!” He repeated, pumping his fist in the air as he tried and failed to reign in his excitement. He had entered the main section of the office at that point and noticed one of the secretaries giving him an odd look. He quickly sobered his expression and gave her a short greeting.

‘Wait.’ Max thought, suddenly realizing something. ‘I came here during my lunch break to talk to Madam Roux, but now that I’ve already gotten the job…’ He rubbed his neck sheepishly. He didn’t need to get off the elevator. Actually, there was no point for him to be on this floor at all. He turned around and walked back the way he came, trying to ignore the puzzled look on the secretary’s face as he left the main room that he had just entered.

‘Well what am I going to do now?’ Max wondered, back in the hallway with the elevators. He had twenty minutes until his break was over. Then he got an idea and pulled out his cell phone.

He scrolled down his contacts until he reached the name he was looking for, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he listened to his phone ring.

“Hiya poindexter.” The voice said on the other end of the line. Max rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I thought we went over this?” Max said, trying and failing to sound disapproving.

“Oh yeah we definitely did, I just chose not to listen.” The voice admitted.

Max chucked. “Alixxxxx.”

“Hey take me as I am or not at all.”

“Then I get to call you Lazytown.” Max declared, biting back his grin.

“Okay, I may have short pink hair, and I may be a little too obsessed with physical activity, but if you call me Lazytown I will not hesitate to kick your ass.”

Max shuddered at the threat. Alix may be shorter than him, but she trained the best pro-fighters in the French league. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Noted.” He said, his throat suddenly dry. Then he remembered why he called her in the first place. “So, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Yeah, my new protégé is taking a water break. You’ve gotta check this girl out sometime, Max, she’s going places.”

“Actually I think I’ll be seeing a lot of her in the future…” Max said vaguely, but Alix immediately understood.

“You got the job!” Alix exclaimed, excitement obvious in her voice. “How was it? What did you say? Don’t tell me you used all of those statistics you prepared because we talked about –”

Max laughed. “The plan was trashed before I really started it.” He admitted.

“Really? That’s not like you.” Alix said, puzzled.

“Oh I didn’t trash the plan.” Max said, leaning against the wall. “Le Chien Kim did.”

“Who?”

“Apparently he’s my new partner. And apparently he likes a challenge.”

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with this guy.” Alix said, and Max could picture the evil grin on her face.

He smiled to himself as he continued to talk to his best friend on the phone. He had a good feeling about all this – a strange, indescribable feeling – but a good feeling nevertheless.

For the rest of the day he couldn’t seem to get those gray eyes out of his head. Whenever he tried to recall one of his many facts and figures, all he could think of were those eyes. He couldn’t seem to understand why.

[williamkenedy]

The Pen

It is my solemn duty to report the truth behind an unusual event that transpired in the town of Cambridge, which otherwise would have gone unnoticed by the broader public. It has taken my several years to compile the evidence to show that the death of the writer Kalen Gullikson was not, in fact, the result of natural causes. All my research points to a far more sinister culprit behind the death of Mr. Gullikson, things that are almost beyond human comprehension. However, I feel an obligation to caution you against reading any further, as there are countless aspects of this story that might prove unsuitable for those who would prefer something with a more pleasant subject matter. I thoroughly recommend reading anything else, so that you might be spared the terrible facts I have uncovered. However, if you proceed, know that you have been warned.

I should note, at the beginning, that Kalen Gullikson was not always a respected author. In fact, when he began his career, he was incredibly average. This is not to say that his writing was bad, but it simply had no impact on the reader. However, that same unemotional nature was perfect for drafting academic reports for his old history professor. These reports made him enough money live, and offered him the opportunity to travel alongside his old professor on various expeditions in order to chronicle the professor’s discoveries. I have read these reports and can attest that they are incredibly informative, but exceptionally boring and of no literary interest. In fact, if you compared these reports to his more famous work, you would swear they were not written by the same person. However, in his last report concerning an expedition to Egypt, there is a marked change in style that would foreshadow everything to come.

When the expedition arrived in Egypt, Kalen waited on the docks for his bags before heading off to the hotel where the professor was waiting. When a steward finally tossed Kalen’s bag onto the dock, Kalen saw to his dismay that his duffel bag had a massive black stain on the side. After a quick rummage through his belongings, the writer found his pen case cracked, and the pen inside was beyond repair. Shaking his head, kalen made his way towards the hotel. After dropping his bag in the room he shared with another member of the expedition and preserving his other belongings from further ink stains, he walked out to wander a street market in search of a replacement writing implement. Eventually, he found himself walking through a darker corner of the market, where a strange, hunchbacked man approached him.

“Good day, sir”, the peddler said, “might I interest you in an alabaster pyramid? Carved from the actual stones used to build the Great Pyramid”.

Kalen looked at the peddler as he continued his sales pitch. Finally, the author cut the merchant off, saying, “look, all I need is a pen”.

“I do have something you might like…”, the merchant said before ducking behind his stall. He emerged holding a black wood, which he offered to Kalen. Inside was a black pen with intricate gold inlays that spelled out ancient symbols. “You won’t find anything like this in the world”.

Kalen picked up the pen and tried it out. The ink was smooth, glossy, and black, and the pen felt very natural in his hand. He promptly bought it, and he never saw the merchant again. Now when a strange merchant in a back alley offers you a pen covered in ancient writing, you should probably ask more questions about where it came from. You never know if it belonged to a local crime lord, military official, or has a connection to a cursed tomb. All of these possibilities are dangerous, but in slightly different ways, as Kalen Gullikson would find out.

The expedition itself went on without incident. Kalen recorded everything diligently, using his new pen to record all the the professor’s discoveries. He enjoyed the writing more than ever, and the report that came out was far more richly written than his previous work. The pen continued to produce its glossy black ink. Kalen thought it was convenient that it had not needed to be refilled throughout the expedition. One would think that such an abnormal fact might cause you to stop using a pen. However, it felt so natural in Kalen’s hand and his writing seemed to flow more smoothly whenever he used it, so he continued to use it, eventually refusing to write with anything else.  

Upon his return to the States, he renewed his attempts at writing for a mainstream audience. With his new pen in hand, his feelings flowed casually onto the pages, and he was soon picked up by a publisher to write regular serials. These met with critical and public acclaim. I don’t need to tell you about his rise to fame, but what there are some details from his personal life that do bear examining in the leadup to his death. From the people that I spoke with, Kalen initially embraced his newfound fame, making many public appearances to do signings and such. However as time went on, he accepted more and more commissions, exponentially increasing his workload. While most think that his increased workload was inflicted by his publishers, I have discovered that he actually made the requests himself. He began writing more and more, and the subjects of his writing took on darker and darker tones. Some of his publishers began to distance themselves from Kalen, as his works about dark and unsettling terrors from beyond the world disturbed their readers. Some of his associates remarked that he had begun to refuse visitors, and his landlady said that she could hear the constant scratching of his pen at all hours of the night if she passed by his apartment. Most considered his near compulsive writing to be simply a part of his increasingly eccentric style. However, one night, the true nature of his sudden literary prowess was revealed to those of us who knew what we were looking for.

What follows is my best assessment of what happened the day Kalen Gullikson, based on what little information could be gained from witnesses and evidence left around his apartment.

Kalen sat behind his desk. He hadn’t left it in several days, barely stopping to eat or sleep. His mind raced with ideas and his heart was filled with overwhelming emotion that could only be released through writing. He scribbled feverously through the night, the pen gliding swiftly over the the paper as letters formed the words that formed the sentences which tried desperately to express the feelings trapped within the young writer’s chest. His pen obliged him, dutifully pouring out its thick glossy, black ink to cover the paper with the author’s deepest feelings. With every line he finished, Kalen felt himself growing weaker, his hand shaking as he continued to pour his feelings onto the page. However, try as he might, he could not stop writing. The feelings trapped within him sought release, and he could not deny them. As he covered each new page with ink, it was pushed from the desk, tumbling to the floor to join the ever increasing mound of similar sheets covered in the emotional outpourings of the mad author. Even as his vision dimmed and he could no longer feel the pen within his fingers, Kalen continued to scrawl the messages that he hoped would free him from the torment of the feelings caged within his chest. Finally, with a period, the pen fell from Kalen’s hand, and the author’s head hit the desk with a distinctive thud.

It took several days for anyone to notice Kalen Gullikson’s absence, as his reclusive habits and introverted nature had led very few to bother checking up on him regularly. In fact, it wasn’t until he failed to send in his regular serial to his publisher that any report was filed. Eventually a policeman was sent around, and after getting no response to his knocking, took the liberty of breaking down the door. Of course, he obtained permission from the landlady before doing so, as he was generally a polite fellow, especially for a police officer. According to the official report, the officer found Kalen Gullikson slumped over on his writing desk, surrounded by piles of paper. The officer was not much for reading, so he ignored the papers and checked to see if the author was dead, which of course he was. The windows and doors were locked from the inside, so there could not have been any outside assailant who could have slain the young author, and no one was found hiding in some closet or other place waiting for the perfect time to escape. The head detective and several more officers were called to the scene, and each piece of paper was collected, boxed, and moved to a warehouse filled with other evidence. The investigation of Kalen’s apartment did not last long, as the police department was having its annual banquet that evening, and all those involved in the investigation required time to properly shine their shoes and buttons for the evening’s festivities.

Kalen’s body was turned over to the coroner’s office, where a brief autopsy was done. His date of death was February 1st, and his cause of death was listed as exhaustion. No one thought much of the author’s passing, and he was buried in the local cemetery without any ceremony or memorial. I have visited the place where he was buried, though it is apparent i am the only one who has done so. I also visited the police in order to obtain the facts of the case for me own research. In the medical examiner’s report, there were several anomalies that should be noted, although most people who have read it without knowing the other facts I have presented simply saw them as a curiosity. First, his heart had an extra hole in it. As you probably know, most people’s hearts have two holes: one where blood enters the right atrium and one where the blood leave the left ventricle. These holes are very important to the flow of oxygen and nutrients to other parts of the body, and therefore are expected to be present in most people’s hearts. However, Kalen’s heart had a third hole, located at the base of the left ventricle. It was not very big, only about the size of an fountain pen’s ink cartridge. The coroner suggested that it was a preexisting condition linked to the late author’s distaste for rigorous physical activity, but that it had no importance to Kalen’s death. The second point of interest in the coroner’s report was that there was no blood anywhere to be found in Kalen’s body. The coroner said that this was due to him being dead for so long without being found. However, the average human body contains approximately one and half gallons of blood. There is no known scientific process that I have found to explain how so much blood simply disappeared. Finally, the report notes a strange tattoo located on the left side of Kalen’s chest. I have seen several photographs of it, and I will try and describe it as best I can. Though the quality of the police photographs is remarkably poor, one can determine that it shares the glossy black quality of the ink that flowed from that horrid pen. It depicts a eye of egyptian styling. Cursory students of history or archeology might easily mistake it as the eye of Horus. However, closer examination shows that its features are reversed and distorted, with an additional lobe at the outer edge. This eye is the mark of an ancient, eldritch evil which I will not name here, but know that he delights in the torment of mortal men. This mark is the most troubling of all, as it proves that Kalen’s death was connected to darker forces at work in this world.

Attempts at interviewing those persons involved with the case proved useless, as it was paid so little attention. So my investigation finally turned to the mountain of papers that were found scattered around the body. It took months of painstaking work to organize the papers into their proper order. I do not have the space necessary in this work to go into detail about the contents of the writing, nor could I do the tragedy contained with those pages justice. I will say that the story is one of raw emotion, and I wept as I forced myself to keep reading long into the night. The story often references a woman, although her name is never given. I have not been able to ascertain whether that woman is based on someone in the real world or simply a personification of the perfect partner. Regardless, I cannot avoid the true horror found within those pages. I do not believe anyone else has noticed what I have found within its pages, but there was a symbol that is found on every page, without fail, in the upper right hand corner. At first, I though it merely a symbolic letterhead attached by the stationery company. However, upon closer inspection, I found that it was in the same ink that was used for all the other writing. The symbol itself took me some time to unravel, but in the end, I discovered that it was an overlay of three letter in the latin alphabet: A J M. I have no idea as to the significance of these letters, but I have no doubt that they held meaning to the late author. I kept a section of the work that I found particularly impactful, which coincidentally consists of the final pages Kalen ever wrote. As I traveled researching the final details of this case, visiting other colleagues and relatives who were less than helpful in providing additional details on Kalen’s life, I spent many sleepless nights going over those pages, drinking in the tragic and painful emotions he had poured onto the pages. Eventually, I found the relative who had been gifted the late author’s personal effects, including the pen used to write these stories. I admit that I stole the pen, not out of greed or curiosity, but to protect anyone from falling victim to its evil nature. For when I disassembled the pen late that night in the room I had rented, I found that it had no ink cartridge. Instead, the inside was coated with the dried remnants of what could only be blood. As my eyes moved from the disassembled pen to the pieces of paper containing Kalen’s last words, the ink lost its glossy black tone, slowly turning to the dark, rich red of freshly spilt blood.

They say that the most impactful writing comes from the heart, and in this case, I find that to be absolutely, horrifyingly, true.