#hey i can write handkerchief first try!! sick :D

[keeps-ache]

pals and other things :D

[an-exotic-writer]

jimin: sidewalk sugar (m)

[unedited - reupload - will edit soon!] ❝ you met your sugardaddy on the sidewalk? - jeon jungkook 2k16 ► 9955 words // scenario, sugardaddy!jimin ❣ one of my absolute favorites! ;w;

There are days where you love life to the end of time. Everything seemed to be a domino effect of pleasant things going your way; planned itinerary finishing on time, unexpected good news, maybe even a raise in your salary but that’s highly doubtful but a person can hope, no? It’s all the possible good emotions bottled up into a day, the span of twenty-four hours oozing with nothing but smiles and giggles. Those days are what you aim for the most, or at least, try.

Today was not one of those days.

Today was really not one of those fucking days.

Getting up late for work even though you set two alarm clocks? Yeah, those tiny pieces of shit decided to spell out fuck you in numeric because you got up an hour later. The regular bus you took seemed to be late and there was no way in hell you would make it in time for your first class. That would resort to your second class but hey, look who decided to trip you and spill coffee all over your notes? Ah, this is also a giant middle finger shown from God when a random passerby decided to help you and fuck me man, he’s gorgeous.

It’s already bad enough that the notes you’ve spent so hard had brown splotches and even if you wiggled them out, it’s going to take a ton of writing to make up for the loss. You try not to cry, simply because you get emotional when things get tough and hey you’re human, it’s normal. But when so many things are falling out of your way in just the beginning of the day, might as well set yourself on fire. The stranger that bumped into you hadn’t even had the guts to apologize just as he tries to scurry himself up and make a dash for it.

You would’ve let him go, because if you saw his face, you’d remember his face structure and made sure you’d add a little extra in his drink if he ever walked into the coffee shop you worked at. But another voice seemed to caught him down for you.

“Hey. I believe you owe this lady an apology,” At the authoritative tone, you down your guts about to throw up, tilting your chin up to see a man clad in a suit, tailored to perfection wrapped around his slim figure was the owner of that sweet, honeyed voice that sounded so powerful as each word fell from his mouth. You gape, aware of the stares you’re getting because this is a bloody sidewalk where at this time it’s the most packed that you naturally reach out to tug on the hem of this… stranger’s pants. You’re trying not to stain his attire because it looks too expensive for your ass to cover that but you give your best, “D-Don’t, it’s fine…”

The handsome stranger lets the other stranger go, growling a beat it before he lets him scramble off while you’ve gone back to gathering your notes. When you see that another set of hands help you out in picking up the sheets of hand-written notes, you realize you’re not alone. As you reach for the last one, he does the same and your hands brush against each other. He gasps and stops, only for you to snatch it before mumbling a soft thanks. He gets up, offering you help as well and where in the name of God did he come from?

He carefully hands you back your notes and smiles at you in apology despite this not being his fault, or his business to begin with. His black hair mused as if someone had just ran their hands through them, dark, round eyes disappearing when he smiles, lips soft and pink as they radiate warmth to seep in your veins, it’s difficult to keep eye contact when remembering your current state.

Your white blouse is now half brown, black pencil skirt coated with a thin layer of the remnants on the pavement and let’s not even begin with the marks on your kneecaps. But none of that is compared to the look on your face as you bite down on your lip, staring at your hours of hard work now flushed in the drain. In other words, a large cup of black Americano from an asshole.

“Hey…” His voice is still sweet, this time dropping to lukewarm as his hand graces over to your shoulder, trying to comfort you when the tears well up in your eyes, “A-Are you okay…?”

Managing to look at him in the eye, you nod and smile despite the single tear straying down your cheek. As his eyes look painfully immersed in the emotions of your own, of how he frowns and the lines crease his forehead, he intends to say something about you lying. But you soon correct yourself with the shaking of your head, hanging your head low, “No,”

Even saying a word with one syllable was hard and it makes him sick to his stomach.

He brings things to his own hands, moving the one from your shoulder to use two fingers to tip your chin up so he can look at you properly, his smile appearing once more, “Is there any way I can help you?”

With an intake of air, it fills up your lungs and your mind of what you should do but what you really do instead as you wipe the remaining tears that fall from your eyes. He acts quick, fishing out an ironed and nicely folded handkerchief that carefully swipes your tears away. He quietly tugs you to the side, to avoid walking traffic and when you’re at a safe distance by the wall, you lean against it and he doesn’t like how you look like one of those nice people who just gets shitty things happening to them.

“Really, let me help you. Whatever it is, I’ll try,”

Initially your plan was to comeback with a snarky comment like why the fuck do you care but upon meeting his eyes and seeing how genuine they are in helping, you can’t. He looks like he donates half of his earnings to charity and with that, you’re not about to treat someone else like shit because your day got started off the wrong way.

“Unless you can miraculously make my notes clean or my clothes, I don’t think so,” Shaking your head at his incredible hospitality, you gently put his hand away from your cheek, “But on the other hand, I appreciate it. Thank you,” You give his hand a light pat as it falls to his side and gather every ounce of selfesteem left in you to turn on your heels to start walking away. Not even halfway through this coffeeshop to your right, his voice that you seem to recognize calls for you with—“Wait!”

You do stop but you’re not expecting much until he jogs around you, reappearing before you again. He catches his breath and then says past a heavy exhale, “I can help. Well, only half of that but… do you trust me?”

If he’s thinking this is one of those movies where you’d just gladly accept his hand and run away to the sunsets, man he has another thing coming. Raising a brow at him, you take a step back, to which it deflates his confidence but he doesn’t let it show.

“I… I just met you. And I don’t even know your name,”

He laughs, and the way he laughs completely strikes your heart to the heaven’s at how beautiful it sounds. His head tips back because apparently, you’re a comedian and yes hi hello, you’re hilarious as fuck but no. He leans forward, stretching his arm and hand to you once the laughter dies down. He’s smiling once more, not offended or affected by your response but he is rather impressed. Many your age would be smitten by looks and grabbed by the hook but apparently, there’s still hope left in society.

“I’m Jimin. Park Jimin,” From his eyes filled with sincerity to his smile curved to kindness, you relent and manage your things in one arm, extending the other to place your hand in his. Automatically he curls his fingers around yours, feeling the grip of warmth clutching onto you as you shake his hand lightly, “Y/N. Just Y/N,”

“There, now you know me,” He lets your hand go, to which you go back to clutching onto your notes as he smiles at you widely, “Now, do you trust me?”

Oh what the hell.

With a small smile, you nod, bringing a wider one to Jimin’s lips, “Yeah.”

//

“Um… where are we going?” You only ask now, after seated in his car (which is a fucking Mercedes Benz, one of the limited editions in jet black) as he drives you downtown and once seeing high rises and luxurious lots, you’re certain this part town is none of your favor. “Just somewhere I’m regular at,” He answers with a hint of amusement, taking a side glance to notice how your eyes are glued to what’s outside of the window. The gape you have as your eyes ogle at the sight, he’s certain you’ve never been to this side before. Or you have but never gotten the chance to linger around.

He takes it as you’re done when you close your mouth at the stop he pulls in front of a boutique. Stained glass just for class, the clothes they present out by the line of the sidewalk, it scares you how expensive it must be to even stand in there to breathe. Jimin makes himself known when he opens the door for you, not knowing how to function properly until he offers a hand for you to step out. Once on your feet, you rely on him to lead you into the shop with his hand in yours.

The bells ding upon arrival, stepping in and automatically, there’s a man clad in a striped suit, similar to Jimin’s, the pattern only distinctively different from his. He’s taller, of silver hair combed back and a dimpled smile shining your way when he walks around the counter, “Ah, Min. Brought a lady back, I see,”

Jimin only chuckles, grip loosening on your hand as he steps forward to offer whoever this is a hug and—“I’m Namjoon, Kim Namjoon.”

“Y/N,” You manage softly, reaching to shake his hand and everything else that happens after leaves you in a daze. With the snapping of his fingers, there’s a lady coming out—high waisted skirt, pretty peach blouse with her hair in a nice bun with a few allowed strands by the side of her face, she takes your measurement. There are no words exchanged as you stand there, like a doll for her to dress up. As she steps away with a measuring board, she clicks away back into the curtains.

Gulping, you turn to look at Jimin, who’s seated on one of the black leather sofas and he smiles at you, motioning you with a hand to follow her. You’re about to protest, something like I can’t afford this but when he looks so confident, as if he knows what you’re thinking, you relent and stalk behind her. Past the curtains there’s already a row of clothes by the side, a mirrored wall that puts emphasis that this room might be bigger than you thought. The lady earlier smiles at you and picks out something that might match your taste and true enough, it does.

It’s a nice white dress shirt with sleeves that curl around your wrists with lace. The buttons are of gold with white thread and the pencil skirt she picks out almost looks like the one she has on but this is in your size, fitting right above your knees. She gives you privacy to change and just as you slip on the skirt, she steps around your discarded clothes to reach behind you, zipping you up before you can do it yourself. With a grateful smile, you look at her over your shoulder, “T-Thank you,”

“You’re welcome, love,” She winks, picking up what you should be and before you can take it back, she frowns at you, “Um… I don’t think this is worth saving. Even with the quality of cleaning products we have, it might not work,”

She notices how you’re attached to it because that’s my favorite… but you’re quick to shake your head, brushing it off with a small smile, “I-It’s okay, then…”

“Are you sure?” She wants to confirm she has your green light and when you nod once more, she disappears and goodbye, half a month’s worth of paycheck. You come to realize there’s no time to sulk when a voice startles you from the other end and in this case, it’s not Jimin. Smoothening your hands down on your clothes, it feels so foreign, a little too expensive but you like it. Turning around, you nudge the curtains aside and come face to face with Namjoon, who grins, “Looks great,”

Grinning back, you step out to follow him, “Thanks,”

As he leads you to the counter he stood behind not too long ago, filling out a card for you to take. “If you need any other assistance in the future, bring this back,” It has your measurements and whatever it is to tailor to your needs and you blink at it before taking it carefully, “Thank you but… I don’t think I’ll be coming back,”

Noticing it came off wrong, you shake your head and almost crush the card out of nervousness, “N-Not because the selection here is bad! Because, um… I don’t have the money…”

“Well, with Jimin, it’s off the house,” Namjoon says smoothly, folding his arms and leaning forward to eye you with curiosity that has you growing conscious with how you look, “By any chance are you younger?”

“Than Jimin?” Namjoon nods. “I guess? I’m not too sure—“

“Is he your sugar daddy or something?”

Gawking at his assumptions, you now know Namjoon’s not one to sugar coat his words. Finding your words, they fly out filter before you can hold yourself back, “I wish he was,”

“Wish who was your sugar daddy?” A voice pops up from behind and you watch as amusement fills Namjoon’s eyes, belittling you as he smirks and stalks off to the side, gone as he walks past the blinds. Gulping, you turn around carefully and offer him a crooked smile, hands behind your back, “Um…”

He steps forward, closer and closer until he’s in the personal of your space. His hand reaches up, putting strands of your hair behind your ear as he hums for an answer, “Hm?”

“You. But we were just kidding and—“

“Shame, I’d actually take it up,” He coos, finding that you’re not all as you seem and he likes it. Jimin likes it a lot. With his hand, he carefully strokes your cheek and then puts his hands back into his pockets, shrugging at you, “And, you look beautiful,”

“Thank you—thank you but, Jimin, how much is this? I don’t know how long I’d need to take but I’ll pay you back and—“

“No no, it’s my treat, don’t even talk about it.” He shakes his head, tutting at you in the process as he reaches down and holds his palm up. You quietly place your hand after a hushed thank you and Jimin doesn’t think he’s heard anything more sincere in his years of living. Once you have your hand in his, he holds onto it and leads you back out to his car. Neither of you say a word until closes the door of his side of the door and the both of you are inside the vehicle. Anxious, you don’t say anything, keeping your lips shut and only answering him when he asks where do you need to be?

After giving him the name of the university you go to, he seems to be interested, questioning as soon as you strap your seatbelt and he revs the engine, “Final year?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He snorts, and after that, the rest of the drive is quiet. (but really, he managed to see one of your notes with the hint there)

//

When he reaches just a few blocks away, you manage to place a hand on his shoulder, gaining his full attention, “J-Jimin, you can stop here. I’ll get off,” You take your seat belt off, only to let Jimin hold you back when he does pull over but he keeps the door locked. Unable to open, you look over your shoulder to frown at him, “Jimin…”

“Why not at the front?” He questions, only to have you sighing as you shake your head, “I… I don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I’m sure, for a person like you to be driving a car like this, you’re in no position to be associated with me and just—“

“I don’t care,” He cuts you off, causing you to suck in a breath when he leans over dangerously close and you swallow the lump trapped in your throat, preventing any words from slipping past, “J-Jimin…”

“I’ll drop you off in the front, yeah? Take it as part of the ways you’re repaying me,”

“P-Parts?” You squeak, and Jimin doesn’t answer just yet, chuckling with that beautiful voice of his as he takes advantage at the green light, getting his car back onto the main road as he drives past the remaining blocks. Once reaching the front gates of your university, he doesn’t let you get off just yet.

“How about some dinner tomorrow night? Down at The Grand Marlin at seven?”

Trying to remain calm, you see if you’re on the same page as he is, “A-Are you serious about the whole sugar daddy thing…?”

He raises his brows and lowers them down, an act of teasing you as his voice spells out—“I am if you are,”

Biting back a smile, letting out a shy one, Jimin unlocks the door for you to open the door, in which you get out of the car without a word. He doesn’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad sign but he does know he appreciates the way you rake your hands through your hair, sparing him a grin as you murmur just for him, “See you at seven.”

//

The rest of your day had been better than you had expected. You pass the presentation with a grade that your lecturer seems to be pleased with, lunch was paid for by your friends and tonight your boss called in saying that your shift was taken over by a co-worker, so you need not come in. But this is where everything starts to sink in at the thought of Jimin when you’re reaching a friend’s dorm. Considering you live just next door, you decide to pop up because you need help.

“Wow, who the hell did you rob to get that?” Taehyung’s eyes grow wide, simply because he’s one of the few who knows of your dealings to earn money and there was no way you’d spend for another attire like that when it’s your last year in this hellhole. You laugh and step in, giving him a quick hug before you reach the sofa. He doesn’t let up on it, taking the seat beside you, looking at you dead in the eye, “I’m serious, Y/N. Who did you kill?”

“I’m about to tell you, alright? Jeez, let me breathe,”

He waits until you take three inhales and two exhales and that’s when he shakes you, “Tell me!”

“I don’t think you’re going to believe me,” Your voice is shaky, the same time you drop your bag to the side and he scoffs a laugh, rolling his eyes along the way. He brushes his brown hair back and leans against the arm of the sofa, grabbing onto a pillow to hug and tossing you one, “Please. I think after what happened with Jungkook, I believe everything is possible now. Try me,”

“I… got myself a sugar daddy. Or at least, I think so…?”

“Woah, okay, okay,” Taehyung takes in your words, the new information digesting in his system before he—“I was not expecting that. The closest I thought you would get is friends with benefits but a sugar daddy? Who the fuck begged on their knees to get fucked this time?”

Before you can answer, the hollering down from the hall has the both of you flinching, “Who got a sugar daddy?!”

Taehyung groans and tosses his head back, glaring at the face popping out and now seated by your other side, looking over your shoulder in excitement.

“Fuck off, Jungkook. She was just about to tell me!”

“Us,” He corrects, “Now proceed,”

“His name is Jimin and I met him earlier today by the sidewalk and—“

“You met your sugar daddy on the sidewalk?”

“Yes, Jungkook I met him on the sidewalk where the fuck do you think I was supposed to meet him? A five star hotel?”

“That would’ve been more believable,” Taehyung muses and Jungkook snorts, “I know, right?”

“Anyway,” Your voice is loud enough to get them to shut up and luckily, they do. “We’re going out for dinner tomorrow night and I don’t know what I should do,” Letting out a sigh, you look at the both of them, back and forth, “Help me?”

The both of them decide not to poke fun on this too much, Taehyung thinking of something to say, something not stupid but Jungkook’s faster, being the quick thinker. He places a hand on your shoulder, making you face him and Taehyung raises a brow to what he might propose, “Set rules of what you want. Like, what you’d do and what you wouldn’t do.”

“Ah, make sure he’s clean, too! Get tested. Together. Or not, up to you,”

“Make sure he signs it, too. Keep it valid and—“

“If you don’t enjoy it, call it off. The rules are there to validate what you’ve agreed to. If anything, we’re on your speed dials and—“

“Could you please the ever loving fuck stop cutting me off?” Taehyung hisses, to how how manages to smack his boyfriend over your shoulder and you bark with a laugh, leaning back on the sofa with your arm clutched onto the pillow, pressed to your stomach, “Oh my god,”

“I’m trying to make sure her sugar daddy doesn’t take her for granted! Most assholes are like that nowadays!”

“We don’t even know who he is!”

“Exactly! That’s why we need to be careful!”

“Oh, Y/N, I know just what you should wear,”

“Fuck me, why are we dating?” Jungkook groans, leaning back and giving up on saying anything while Taehyung hops off the sofa, patting your head and sparing a kick to Jungkook’s shin, “Shut the fuck up. You were the one who turned gay for me,”

As Taehyung scurries off to retrieve what he has in mind for your date, you only laugh at Jungkook’s reddening cheeks and snarky words, “Bitch! I’d turn gay for myself!”

//

There are perks when it came to having friends who are in the fashion designing course. They’d make lovely clothes with such detail that makes your eyes double over at what Taehyung had to offer you. It was one of his final projects, to which he had you model in a year ago and now, it seems like it paid off. What took him a month of planning and two weeks of execution (Jungkook almost getting a black eye for spilling soda on the fabric and him needing to reorder another roll of silk), now it fits like a glove.

You make an effort to do your make up, your hair and picking out one of your favorable shoes that wouldn’t be death to walk in. Heels are the way to go so you chose the ones you liked most. As you reach the place he’s talked off, you’re sure this is it. And boy oh boy, it’s as grand as the name itself. You’re not too sure if you know who you’re dealing with but now you most certainly do. As if yesterday wasn’t enough, this is ten times more.

The waiter smiles at you just as his co-worker opens the door for you to step through. He smiles at you and flips open his book, pen in his hand, “Hello there, miss…?”

“Y/N,” You answer, trying not to stammer and before you can mention the name you’re here for, he already gets it, “Ah, wait here. We’ll have someone show you the way,”

You try to process what’s going on, blinking at him, “I-I’m sorry?”

“This way, please,” Another voice calls for you and you try to keep up, earnestly not tripping over your heels as you walk, purse by your side (Jungkook got it during some trip, one for you, one for Taehyung). He brings you away from the big crowd, heading straight for what seems to be a private room and your heart stops when he opens the door, revealing Jimin inside looking like a fucking model that stepped out of a magazine.

He decided to drop down on his usual clothes, more for comfort but stylish nevertheless. In contrast to his black dress shirt and white coat, it’s replaced with just a white dress shirt, buttoned up to his chest, revealing enough skin and all the way down, jeans does justice to the curves of his bottom when he stands up to greet you. The waiter leaves the pair of you alone, closing the door and you step in, making your way towards him with your best not to fall over.

You reach him in time before you can make a fool out of yourself and his smile is so wide, his eyes are gone. As he puts an arm around you for a quick hug, you settle down first when he pulls the chair for you, then in as you lean forward. After a soft thank you, he’s in front of you now, on the opposite end with his eyes never leaving yours.

It’s like he’s full of surprises, much like you as a mirror and he’s not afraid to show he’s in awe with the way you look tonight. The white dress compliments your skin, the way it hangs on your shoulders and exposes a part of your back when you look around, a preview of what you have on and he knows you know when you smile back at him.

Before anything else can go on, he pulls out the menu and smiles, again, “Shall we order first?”

Taking the menu you have in front of you, this is the first time you’ve been here and you’re not too sure what to order. Blinking at the words you’ve never quite called out before, you look up to Jimin with a nervous look, “H-Hey, um… I’m not too sure what to order…”

“What do you like?” He questions, tipping his chin up, only to hear your answer of, “I like a lot of things,”

He laughs, but tries to get an answer, a narrowed scope of what he should suggest, “Any allergies?”

“No beef, no peanuts,”

“Seafood?”

“Surprise me.”

Jimin decides to do exactly that when he calls for the waiter with just a bell by the side of the table. On cue, a man walks through the door, the one that guided you here and he stands by Jimin’s side when he motions him over. Jimin orders the serving for two of lobsters, a side of oysters and what seems to be the special on the appettizer platter. He sums it all up with a nice bottle of white wine, in his favor of the year he specifies. When the door opens and closes once more, you’re left to folding your elbows on the table, keeping your eyes glued on him. He seems to take interest to do the same, raising a brow, “Yes?”

“How old are you?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself but Jimin doesn’t seem fazed. He chuckles and shakes his head, fringe brushing over his eyes as he answers, “I’m four years older than you. And you, for someone who’s quite hesitant to enter the boutique yesterday… you have quite the taste in clothes,”

Leaning back in your seat, you cross your legs and put your purse beside you, “My friend’s in the fashion design course. Considering I helped to be his model, this was something I could fit in to borrow,”

He rests his chin in his palm, finding the time to be cheeky, “With a face like yours, I would believe that you’re a model,”

“Dropping compliments now, are we?” You tilt your head at him and he shrugs, sighing, “What can I say? It’s in my nature,”

“Oh really? What do you do for a living?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you, baby girl?” He coos, much to the pink blushing your cheeks and he chuckles as you clear your throat. “I work at a logistics company that belongs to my father—inherited and now running under my own hands. I juggle with that along with being a model sometimes, if Namjoon’s that desperate,” Squinting your eyes at him out of being playful, you tease, “Aren’t you a little successful?”

He snorts and moves his hands, resting them on his knees as he tries to remain humble, “One of the top young business leaders to enter the scene but it’s nothing, really,”

“Interesting,” You nod slowly, a smile playing on your lips and it’s his turn to flip the coin, eyeing you with certain curiosity that fills his cup, “What about you?”

“What about me…” You repeat his question, finding the easiest way to answer his question as you look up to him, “I’m currently in my final year. Scholarship on one of my two majors. Balancing two part time jobs and one side job while trying not to die halfway of finishing what I need to do to get my education,” Jimin’s mouth opens to say something, but you beat him to it, “Which reminds me,” He falls silent at the zipping of your purse and when you pull out a piece of folded paper, he only unfolds it after you slide it over and get him to read it.

It’s a typed out set of rules he has to agree with and he’s not going to lie, he’s impressed. Even with the whole ‘should I not abide by, any legal action should and would be taken upon’ and continuing on to what could happen and the consequences along with his spot to sign. He reads diligently and that’s when you know he is serious and he’s careful with everything he’s putting his signature on. Initially, there should be no flaw. But when he hands you back the paper, you notice the correction he adds in.

Frowning, you look up to him, “J-Jimin, no. I don’t need—“

“Either that or not at all. You decide,”

Seventh: Personal tutor… and gifts.

“What if I don’t want gifts?”

“What if you do?”

He sees that you’re not budging and that’s when he brings up to—“How about we leave that to be negotiable? The tutor thing, I agree.”

Biting his bait, you nod, taking out a pen to sign your name down, “Fine.”

Jimin does the same, with a smile and a fountain pen, “Great.”

Then there’s that—it’s done.

Well, and dinner is served.

//

Once full and sweetly taken in the dessert Jimin calls for after knowing your liking for ice cream, that’s when the bottle of wine comes down to nothing, empty as it clinks on the table and Jimin’s looking at you like you’re the first woman he ever saw. You refuse to let go of eye contact, a little hazy with the alcohol infused in your veins but it’s not too much where you miss the hint of arousal pooling in his eyes.

“Shall we head back to my apartment?” His voice is husky as each word grates past his throat and whether it’s him making you feel hot and bothered right now or the wine, you don’t know. You don’t care. “Yes, god, yes.”

//

During the ride back to his place, he does the little things that make your heart race even if you think it wouldn’t. He has a hand on your thigh, soft and gentle as he rubs his palm over the silky material of your dress. The low rumbling from the radio does nothing to calm your erratic heartbeat but when Jimin ever so casually spares you a glance every now and then, it seems to have an effect on you to calm down. He smiles at you and if that wasn’t enough to set your heart to a flight mode straight to the sky, you don’t know what is.

You hadn’t realize you’ve reached the destination until Jimin makes a move to give you a squeeze with the remaining hand on you. Flinching, you turn your cheek to come eye to eye with him. Since when did he lean in so close? His breath hitches but he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he gives a nudge with a light line over the tip of your nose with his own, his voice coming out in a soft whisper of air, “We’re here,”

Gulping, you regain composure and place your hand on his, giving it a nudge to have his palm slipping away and he catches the hint of skin that shows as the hem of your dress slides up. He’s certain he knows what you’re doing to him when you sway your hips with an extra twist as you stand up. His brows perk up but before he can savour the tinge of tease you’re seasoning him with, he gets a grip on himself, scoffing a laugh as he watches you get out from the car with minimal effort; standing in heels before you toss your hair over your shoulder as you look over it with a cheeky grin, as well as making his heart thrash from left to right with hard beats.

He’s following your cue to get out and he wraps his hand in yours naturally that it makes your head spin, dizzy from how tonight is filled with circles connecting one another to complete perfection. It’s more than you can ever ask for and for a brief moment, walking with him into the building with his smile curved up to please, you almost forget the initial reason why you’re here. But you can pretend for a while, right?

To be frank, you were rather nervous. Despite guidance from Taehyung (a hint of sass from Jungkook) and the preparations taken with the rules sealed down, it was hard to keep calm. Sure, you’ve had sex before. Getting paid and offering your body in return after? That was something new. Still, you keep to your youth and your will to show him you’re one hell of a surprise to begin with. And it seems like he’s on the same page without words when the both of you step into the confinement of his apartment.

From the dark walls with the pure white leather sofas lined up, your jaw drops. The chandelier hangs beautiful in the middle, dazzling lights twinkling as the moonlight glistens around the diamond carvings. The choice of white tiles is perfect with the slick, black marble tables of his choice—a square coffee table directly below said chandelier, lightbulbs hanging through the column of the corridor down to where you exactly think it leads to.

You had braced yourself for his place to look expensive, extravagant even but not to this extent as the splashes of gold compliments the black almost every corner you turn to, which is pretty much really. Jimin lets out a soft chuckle as he stares at your reaction. After putting your heels aside and closing the door, he thought you would’ve gotten used to it. But as he stands beside you, mischief eyes and a smirk, not yet, as it seems.

“I’ll take it as you like it?” He muses, velvet voice singing into your ears and it sends chills down to your spine, keeping you upright as you turn to look at him, “Please excuse my language but holy fuck this place is gorgeous,” You’re back to being in awe, much to Jimin’s laugh that echoes and bounces off the walls, into your ears that you repeat once more as your fingertips brush over the cold stone of a beautifully sculpted dragon beside you, “Fucking amazing…”

Jimin gives you a couple more seconds before he decides it’s time for you to have the stars in your eyes for something else rather than his furnishing and the interior of his apartment. He silently steps behind you, taking you by surprise when his arm is strong against your waist, yet with a certain delicacy that offers you a leeway to take charge. His fingers strum up to your hip, his other casually slipped into his pocket as he murmurs into your ear, “Let’s not get carried away now, shall we?”

You feel his chest tightening when you snicker, but he’s relaxing in an instant when you lean back, making sure the curve your back and all the way down touches somewhere Jimin’s confined for far too long since dinner. He gasps as you press yourself to him, voice breathy as you look over your shoulder, spelling them out on his lips and Jimin only wonders if he’s ever felt this hot and heavy before during his youthful years, “Bedroom.”

“Fuck me,” Jimin grunts, unable to resist the urge to twist you around, pressing his lips to yours with such urgency it’s making your stomach churn, toes curling with excitement. His arm remains against the lower of your back, right above your waist to lever you down as he parts his lips and drawls his tongue out on the seam of your lips. He feels your grin before you grant him permission to kiss you deeper and with the leg that trails up his ankle, over his calf, up to his thigh as your legs hug him closer, he stutters and his teeth clicks with yours. Chuckling, you sling your arms around his neck, tugging his collar down, revealing enough so you can attach your lips to his skin. He gasps, an arm keeping you near, his other hand raking through your hair as you start to suck and nibble on his flesh; the mix of purple and red threatening to form as you murmur in between, “C’mon, handsome. This is your apartment,”

Growling, Jimin gives a tug on your hair enough to make your stomach clench. A mewl drawn from your lips as he pins you with eyes filled with lust and need you can’t resist. “Jump,” He orders, hands already flicking your dress up, enough for your legs to move freely. His arms come around to steady you as you do as you’re told. Legs wrapped around his figure, steady hands balancing you carefully as if you’re a fine piece of china he can’t bear to break,  he’s the one trying not to break as he makes his way to his bedroom. For a moment, he goes blank and forgets how to coordinate his body when you’re doing things that makes his head suffocate in the haze of pleasure. Your tongue licks a stripe on the skin of his neck, hips rutting in his that gets him to stop walking. The slam against the cement of the wall has you whimpering, despite the material of the dress softening the impact, the exposed part of your back regrets being out in the open.

“Keep doing that and we’re going to play dirty, baby girl,” He grits past his teeth, hot and heavy breath after breath and his half-lidded eyes drives you insane. Much similar to your bruised lips and teary eyes from the pleasure, yet, fearless like your age as you lean forward to coax him out with your lips on his. He groans, pulling you off the wall, resuming his pace towards his bedroom and he signals the arrival when a door clicks shut behind the you.

Again, if he had assumed this was going down the way he wanted like in the movies, he had another thing coming.

As he settles down on the bed, seated, your hips encasing his the way it should be, his eyes snap open as your lips detach from his and you’re on your feet. His hands move faster than his mind, grasping onto your hips, “H-Hey—“

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, in a voice that’s thick as honey, smothering down his lips and over his jaw before he looks at you with a panting chest. Easing your hands on his shoulders, you give him a short massage to get him to relax, in which he does when his breathing regulates and his eyes are dark as the night as he stares at your every move. When you have him where you want him, which is now, beneath you and staring up to you for mercy, it’s where it starts; the point of beginning and there’s no going back.

One of your hand trails up to his black locks, running your fingers through them and the other snaking down to his chest; voice of pure sin as it slithers into Jimin’s ears, spelling out the meaning of eurphoria with light, taunting touches.

“So, do you remember what the rules are or am I going to have to repeat them for you… Jiminie?”

He gapes at you taking charge, daring to call him with a nickname out of nowhere despite him being older and just getting comfortable. Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind, legs propping open wider, head tipped up to match yours lingering down as he voices out what he thinks. “I believe I’ve got everything in check…” His hands trail up to your bottom, gripping onto your cheeks firmly as he smirks at your moan, head falling back. “…but a reminder couldn’t hurt,”

Oh, it’s going to hurt. You smirk, keeping your thoughts discrete with your plan as you’re quick to reincorporate with his gameplay. Balancing one hand on his shoulder, you reach back for one of his, drawing it up to reach the zipper of your dress. His breath hitches as you make him drag it down in a tantalizing pace, yet, your voice filling in the spaces between when it’s starting to get quiet. That’s the last thing that’s going to happen tonight.

“First off,” Jimin reaches the end as the words roll off your tongue and he can’t help but stare as you force his hands to follow yours, peeling the clothing off starting with the straps from your shoulders. You hadn’t notice how cold his fingertips are but they’re easily heating up when they graze over your skin, scraped off like wildfire when the lines slide off and they hang around your waist, revealing the lacy lingerie you had put on for him. He’s shameless as he stares at what you have to offer; white wrapped around the crevices and Jimin licks his lips in anticipation. He’s about to touch but just as he does, your hand grabs his chin, directing them up to your eyes as your voice is apprehensive, his dick kicking at the bass of your tone, “You fuck me and only me,”

He resumes what he has in mind, taking over briefly as he drifts his hand down, squeezing your breasts generously and it hikes up a whine of his name. “Second,” He rasps, swallowing any doubts and he’s swift with his clothes, completely removing his dress shirt; unbuttoning one and pulling it off his head when he’s gotten that out of the way. He takes pride in his body, smirking at the way your hands nimbly brush over the expanse of his chest, down to his abdomen and then to the line of his jeans. When your eyes wander a bit too far where he want you to, it’s his turn to cup your chin, nudging it back up as he lines his eyes straight to yours with a look so intense, you feel your knees buckling, “You fuck me and only me,”

The feeling is mutual when you’re nodding, dropping to your knees and guiding him to get his jeans out of the way. When he’s flicked his belt open, he straps it off and tosses it to the side, the clink hitting the floor reminding you of what’s left undone that you continue speaking. “Third,” You rise up to your feet when he shimmies his jeans off, with your guide to tug them off and to the side where it’s out of your reach. You’re about to finish your sentence but he decides to stand, maneuvering you around to push you down onto the bed and you’re having quite the view as he drags his underwear down and off, his hard length smacked to his stomach almost instantaneously after. He’s thick and with a length you know you’ll enjoy, the licking of your lips has him chuckling as he strokes your cheek with his hand, gazing into your eyes lovingly as if he’s not bare and hard for you, “You were saying?”

“G-Getting tested. Together,” Your words are barely audible but he catches the words as he hums, stalking off to the drawers and pulling out what you assume is a condom. When he returns, he drops the packet at the sight of you with your lingerie in your hands, following where the condom lies when your fingers release the lacy material. He gapes, eyes widening at your bare body glowed with the moonlight. Your eyes point at the shiny silver packet on the floor and he picks it up hastily, stumbling back to you and tackling down on the bed with his lips desperate to kiss you.

He moans when you rake your nails down his back, his lips kissing you everywhere possible when he travels down your body, worshipping almost every part as he goes. He stops at the spot where you want him but he doesn’t give it to you until you continue speaking, “Fourth,” Your breath almost gets stuck in your throat when he hums, sliding a finger into your wet heat and you’re going delirious. Jimin seems to adore the way your back arches, voice hoarse and your hand coming down to his head for support, “F-Fuck, Jimin—four…“ Your voice trails of a bit, out of track before you gain some senses to continue speaking.

“Fourth,” You repeat, just as he’s adding another finger, pumping in with ease and you cry out when his fingers glide in with minimal effort. He rises up to your body, fingers hooked inside of you as he kisses your cheek, his other hand pinning you down by the waist as he continues to prep you, sliding his fingers in and out as he murmurs, “Go on, I’m listening,”

You clutch onto his wrist, forbidding his hand from continuing just to get out in a rushed breath, past your heavily blushing cheeks and sweaty skin, “Aftercare is essential,”

“Of course,” His words are promising, actions even more when your grip loosens and he shoves in three fingers to stretch you nicely, voice pitching up through the cry of his name as you grab onto his shoulders. He circles an arm around your waist to hold you there, his fingers never stopping to get you wetter and his movements are languid, pace kicking up in speed to have you whining in his neck, thighs trembling. He slows down to let you breathe, your chest expanding as he leans to press his forehead on yours to say, “Fifth—kinks are talked of before proceeding. Consent is needed,”

Mustering a cracked okay past your sore throat, you kiss him and he gladly obliges, removing his fingers and you feel him searching around your lower region with moist fingers. You’re about to question him, or in this case, maybe state out another rule but then he touches you right there and your body surges through with pleasure. He grins when he manages to find your clit, using two fingers, the lubrication of your arousal to press tight circles and it’s making your jaw grow slack, “J-Jimin!”

“Sixth,” He ignores your pleas, the desperate clutching on his shoulders as he gets you to speak, “What’s the sixth one, baby girl?”

Your eyes clench shut when he rests his thumb on your clit, three fingers used earlier to dive in past your folds and you’re in the verge of tears as you choke on your own voice. He shows you a bit of mercy, easing his thumb movements to slow rubs and his fingers stilling from inside, allowing you to think straight. Past your blinked tears and stained cheeks, you look up to him to murmur, “A-Any day is fine, except—“

“Thursdays,” He finishes for you, maybe to showcase that he truly cares and listens but you don’t question too much on it, until he adds in, “Double shifts, I know,”

In the midst of heavy breathing and reddened skin, you manage to smile at him, the same time he does to you as if his fingers isn’t in the middle of fucking you ready, “You remember,”

His brows does that thing—raising a little out of cockiness, remaining the humble side of him when he doesn’t overdo it. He reminds you of the current situation and that’s when your hands fall to grasp onto the sheets instead (whatever this is made of, you’ll apologize for being too rough on it later). His thumb harshly digs into your clit and his fingers curl where his fingertips brush upon a spot that has your voice ragged, in contrast to his smoothly filling your ears, “I take this very seriously, don’t you know that?” He puts emphasis as he gives you thrusts with the flick of his wrists.

“Oh God,” Your hand snatches onto his, away from your folds as you look up to him, “I do know I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,”

“And what’s wrong with that?” He cocks an eyebrow, only to have it falter when you smirk because he’s not the only one with confidence to dirty talk, “Wouldn’t you want me to with your cock?”

“Fucking—“Jimin doesn’t even finish his sentence, moving around to grab onto the condom where he rips the packet apart without hesitation, the foil coming off and the latex rolling on as you taunt him by dragging your fingers on his thighs, which they flex under your touch and you gasp. He turns back to you with a gaze so lustful, your lungs contract at the lack of air, mouth agape as you grab his neck and lure him down to kiss you, supply the air you need to breathe. He steadies himself with a grip on the headboard, his other lining himself up and just as he slides in, he presses his palm down on your stomach the same time you press your lips up to his.

Moans are exchanged, tongues mingle with one another as your hands slide up his thighs to his waist, holding him there as he reaches all the way in, deep in you, lips no different as he kisses you fervently. Your hands move back up, one resting on the spot on his shoulder, the other raking up through his hair and then tugging him back so you can speak, “Seven,” You exhale deeply, trying to adjust to his size, making it seem like him being balls deep in you isn’t anything sinful at all as you try to get the words out right. His eyes widen, dilating with the need to listen when this isn’t part of the rules.

“No gifts. I just want a personal tutor,”

His hold on the headboard releases, so he has a hand to brush the hair away from your face, his hovering above yours as he says, “We didn’t exactly agree on that. What if I want to get you a tutor and buy you gifts?”

“Doesn’t work that way, old man,” You grunt, legs wrapped around his figure, using the heel of your foot to knead into his bottom to get him growling, “I’m only four years older,”

“Still older,” You poke your tongue past your lips, that like a switch completely loses humor when he tests what he’s up for with the rolling of his hips,  a little reminder that he’s in you. You whimper when he pulls out, clenching around nothing but air until he slides back in, grasping onto your chin and tilting it down so he can kiss you again. Again and again as he thrusts harder and faster, to the point where you’re about to forget everything and anything, tossed into the oblivion except for the letters of his name when they fall out from your lips like a symphony.

He holds down your wrists by the sides of your head and that slowly transitions to his hands slipping into yours, fingers coming between as you rock your body up to his, meeting each thrust halfway that drags Jimin’s jaw down to moan your name into the air clouded with sex and heat. You can tell past your half-opened eyes when he pulls away, thumping his forehead on yours, his pace relentless as he chases for your orgasm, that he wants to speak. But when you’re clenching your walls down on him, moaning his name in a voice that cracks his train of thought, he’s losing it.

But he’ll make sure you’re losing it first.

His hands pry away from yours, sweat trickling down your temples and he wipes them away before he glides his hand down between your bodies. You’re holding onto him, hands clutched onto his shoulders that escalates to nails down his back then arms around his neck as he reaches for your clit once more. You cry out when he has the nerve to lazily nudge his thumb on your clit, cursing into his shoulder, biting his flesh before you payback with a harsh clench that gets him riled up to the edge.

He picks it up, rough thrusts and rigidly grinding his thumb harder until you feel nothing but his touch, his cock thrusting in and out and him, him, him. “J-Jimin—I’m gonna—oh fuck!” Jimin seems to understand what’s about to happen; the telltales of you coming as your thighs quake, the grip around him contracting and the erratic clenches of your muscles as Jimin fucks you through to pleasure. You spill and coat him with your release and Jimin doesn’t think he’ll ever get a better sight of you thrashing beneath him, moaning his name out and the syllables travel straight to his cock as he pulsates inside of you. He stutters on his thrusts and that’s when you find the strength to flip him over despite how strong he is and from his protest, it snaps into a sharp cry when you sink down on him and get him to lose control.

With a few precise rolling of your hips, he comes with a loud moan when you punctuate your words: come for me, Jiminie, each syllable milking his release until Jimin’s letting out a string of profanities in various versions that has you chuckling as you ride out your highs. His room gathers the sound of heavy breaths and slick movements of skin upon skin that slide with the ease of sweat. Even with that, neither of you move, Jimin growing soft and a mess of residue left on his bed but he doesn’t mind.

He takes his cue to roll over on his bed, slipping out from you as he bends down to kiss you. It brings a smile to your face, lethargically kissing him back as your hands come up to frame his face with such delicacy in contrast to how you were gripping and scratching him a moment ago—and in this case, Jimin likes both. A smile forms as he pulls away, locking eyes with you and it’s hard to keep up but you do when he spares you one more kiss on your lips.

You realize he’s speaking once he gets up from his bed, removing the used condom into the bin and returning with a damp cloth after. Still, he notices how you don’t decipher his words even after he chuckles, so he decides not to speak about it just yet. He gets you clean, warm and  purring out of delight. He pulls you to the spot on the bed that’s slightly cleaner and tucks you in his arms after. The blanket comes of your naked bodies and Jimin rests his chin on your shoulder, firm chest pressed up to your back as your limbs tangle together. Your hands slide over his forearms and you look over your shoulder, finally processing his voice as he repeats what he said not too long ago.

“Eight, I’m paying whatever that’s left for your tuition fees,”

Eyes growing into confusion, lips curling to a frown, you lick your lips and turn around in Jimin’s hold, to which he still keeps his arms around you, “J-Jimin, no. No, I can’t accept that—“

“Either that or gifts. Which one would you prefer?” You forget that you’re dealing with someone who’s mighty good in persuasion and that you can’t quite argue with him even if you wanted to. Although he’s given you reasons not to reject, it’s hard. Money doesn’t fall from the sky and you’re certain Jimin’s taken quite a while to gathered up the amount he has now. Doesn’t matter if he has a mountain or a swimming pool filled with checks, you can’t.

“Jimin… I really, really can’t… The tutor was our agreement,”

“So was the gifts,” He pins you with a look, one that you pout at with hands gingerly playing behind his neck, “But the tutor was practical… gifts are not…”

“They are to me,” He speaks up, nudging you closer and planting a tender kiss to your forehead that you can’t differentiate if he did that out of affection or if he wants to make you feel better. Either way, you’re not complaining. “So here’s what. I’ll pay for your fees, limit to getting you gifts once a month and you can pay the tutor on your own. Sound fair?”

Grinning, your eyes curl up to something Jimin thinks is one of the most endearing things ever; the way they disappear when you smile too hard, your arms slipped around him tight as you lean into his shoulder. He gladly welcomes you in and kisses the side of your head. He strokes your hip with his fingers, then smoothening over your skin on your back all over as you take in deep breaths, fanning his neck. He leans back and the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is the beauty of your smile playing on your lips.

[totallynotafetishblog]

what you wish for

this is the first fic i’ve ever posted anywhere!! i hadn’t had the desire to write fanfic in years, but go/od om/ens has taken over my life.  

enjoy some sick cr0wl3y a few months after armageddon’t  

(note: adam is present for plot reasons at the beginning. skip 1/4 of the way down [past the break] if you just want that good good in/effable h/usbands content)

After the world didn't end, summer faded into autumn faded into winter, and a biting chill now hung in the air, driving animals into their dens and the family members of climate change deniers up a wall. ("It's in the negatives! So much for 'global warming,' eh?" "That's not how it... climate and weather aren't... never mind.")

The cold had also driven Crowley, who was wont to bask, given his serpentine nature, to locate the most substantial heat source in London. He found himself in a bustling shopping mall sauntering aimlessly between shops, and with no purpose to his visit other than "be warm," he was drawn to the coat racks of an affordable clothing store. He had no intention of buying any of the jackets, but if something struck his fancy, he might miracle himself a copy later. 

As he was feeling the fabric of a rather fetching black peacoat, a voice off to his left said, "Hey, I know you."

Crowley spun around, not sure who, exactly, he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't...

"Adam?"

The eleven-year-old nodded and gave a curious look to the demon whom he had met exactly once at the Tadfield airbase. (Twice, if you count the bit where Crowley delivered Adam to the Sisters of the Chattering Order of St. Beryl, but Adam didn't remember that one.)

"How've you been?" Crowley asked, poorly faking nonchalance. He had frankly never considered the possibility that he might run into the Antichrist again, and certainly not at an English shopping center. 

"Alright, 'spose. But this week's been so boring."

"Mm, I agree. Not a big fan of the cold weather myself."

"Oh, no. That's alright. The pond nearby's frozen over and you can skate and slip around and it's loads of fun. But I haven't been able to 'cause my friends are sick and mum says I can't hang out with them. That's why she dragged me out shopping." Adam huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"Yeah, well, probably beats being sick."

"Being sick's not so bad." Adam brightened. "You don't have to go to school and you can watch movies all day and no one tells you what to do."

"Hm," Crowley said, considering this. "Might have to try it some time."

"You mean you've never been sick?" 

"Nah. Not sure I can get sick, actually."

"That's rubbish. Everyone can get sick."

"Guess I just haven't been lucky enough to catch a cold yet. Here's hoping this'll be my year."

A thin woman who Crowley didn't recognize but inferred was Mrs. Young placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Adam, there you are! Come here, I have some clothes for you to try on." Adam started 

to roll his eyes, but a stern look from his mother stopped his pupils from making a full circuit. She ushered him away, and Crowley was left alone at the coat rack once again.

"Well," he said. "That was a thing."

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

Crowley awoke the next morning with the overwhelming sensation that something had gone terribly wrong.

He peeled open heavy eyes, somehow more tired than he'd been when he collapsed into bed the night before, and tried to ignore the hammering in his head and the dull ache residing in his limbs. He hadn’t gone out drinking and forgotten to sober up, had he? 

Upon attempting to purge his body of any alcohol and finding none, he pushed himself into a seated position and he swallowed. The small gesture aggravated his tender, burning throat, and a rattling coughing fit tore through him, leaving the demon hunched over and panting, head in his hands. 

"Ghk," Crowley grumbled. "Fuck."

Grabbing the mobile phone from his nightstand, he stood on uncertain legs and stumbled to the bathroom, catching himself on the sink. He hesitated to make eye contact with the mirror, not knowing what state he would find himself in. Bracing for the worst, he lifted his eyes and was met by a pale, disheveled reflection, a rosy flush across his nose and cheeks, and glassy yellow eyes. Another coughing fit overtook him, and his knuckles tightened around the basin of the sink.

Crowley was fairly certain he was about to discorporate. 

He hadn't done it before, but he couldn't think of any other explanation as to why he felt so positively awful. Though he wished he had some more time to set his affairs in order and find a good home for all his plants, he did, at the very least, have time for goodbyes.

He dialed the only number in his phone which he called with any regularity. After a few rings, Aziraphale picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Aziraphale. It's me." 

"Oh, Crowley!" Crowley could hear his smile through the phone. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah, not quite. Something's happened."

Aziraphale's voice dropped to a concerned whisper. "What do you mean 'something's happened'?"

"I mean, I... I think I'm dying, angel."

"You're what? What happened?"

"Dunno. Just woke up feeling sorta...not good."

"Well... 'Not good' is good for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but... no. Felt liked I'd been poisoned or something. My head feels like it's full of cement and my throat's on fire a-and..." He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the building pressure in his sinuses. "...and my nose ihh-is... hih!" In vain, he scrubbed a fist beneath his nostrils, failing to fight off the spidering itch. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered in the sink as he snapped forward, sneezing against the back of his palm. "Huh'ATSHhuu! h'RSHHuh! Nng..."

He sniffled and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror again. Was this what death looked like? Clammy skin and a sore throat and a dripping nose? Frankly, those sounded like the symptoms of... 

Oh.

Clearing his throat, he held the phone back up to his ear.

"Crowley? Crowley, are you still there?" came Aziraphale's worried voice. 

"Yeah, 'm still here. Sorry about that."

"What was that? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it. Uh, actually, on second thought, I'm... fine. I'm not discorporating. Just... forget I called, yeah?"

"I most certainly will not!" Aziraphale huffed. "You can't tell me you're dying then expect me to forget about it. Shall I come over?"

Having never been sick before, Crowley wasn't entirely sure how these things worked, but he'd lived through enough plagues to know diseases could be contagious, and he didn't want to risk dragging the angel into misery with him. "No, no. I'm fine, really. Was just overreacting a bit." He turned away from the receiver and muffled a wet cough into his shoulder.  

"I'm coming over," Aziraphale decided.

"Listen to me, you really d-don't-!" Hissing at his own rebellious body, he tossed his phone down again and tented both hands over his face.  "h-hih-EKSHHHiuu! AKSHHUUh! ihihih...? h'EkSHHHUH!" He groaned, sniffling back the mess before lowering his hands and blearily opening his eyes to see Aziraphale. 

"Christ, Aziraphale!" Crowley cried, staggering backward. "Are you trying  to discorporate me? Could've knocked, at least, 'stead of materializing in the middle of my bathroom."

Eyebrows knitted together in sympathy, Aziraphale frowned and wrung his hands. "I do apologize for intruding, but... Oh, you sounded so dreadful, and I thought you might've been hurt, or, or..." His eyes flicked up and down as he took in Crowley's appearance. "Are those pajamas?"

"Just woke up."

"But it's nearly four in the afternoon!"

With a slight panic, Crowley glanced at his phone to double check the date, and his anxiety settled when he determined he'd only been out for 16 hours, and not 16 days or months or decades. He shrugged. "I've slept longer."

Aziraphale sighed. "Will you please just tell me what's going on?"

"I told you, it's nothing to worry about. I've just got a bit of a cold."

"A cold?" Aziraphale replied incredulously. "What ever do you mean?"

"I mean my throat's scrachy and my nose is all stuffed up and...you know. A cold."

"Right, yes, but how on Earth did you catch it?"

Crowley rolled his neck, produced a half-sigh-half-cough, and exited the bathroom, saying, "Does it matter?"

Not relenting, Aziraphale followed him to the living room where Crowley slumped back into the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. "Of course it matters. We aren't supposed to get sick, Crowley. Comes with the whole 'angelic healing' business, I suppose."

"Right, angelic healing. Maybe your lot can't get sick, but it seems mine can. We might not be playing for Heaven and Hell any more, but I'm a still a demon, er, biologically, or whatever."

Aziraphale took a seat beside Crowley at that, confusion sketched across his brow as he mouthed 'biologically.' After another second of contemplation, he turned to Crowley and said, "Now, you know that can't be right. You've never gotten sick before."

Crowley rubbed a knuckle under the tip of his nose and sniffed. "Sure I have. Loads of times."

"You most certainly have not." Aziraphale didn't even attempt to conceal his eyeroll. 

"Maybe you just haven't been paying close enough a...atten... ahKSHHHUh! ATSHHiu!!" He held a cupped hand over his face until he was confident the itch was gone. "Attention." 

"Goodness! God bl- ah, gesundheit, dear." He miracled a red silk handkerchief for the demon which Crowley was grateful to accept, though he would never admit that. 

After a productive nose blow, Crowley let his head fall back against the couch. A cough clawed its way from his throat and he belatedly raised the handkerchief to his mouth before sighing and turning his head towards Aziraphale. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I may have done something very stupid."

Aziraphale looked wary. "What did you do?"

"So. Right. I ran into Adam Young yesterday."

"The Antichrist?"

"No, the singer behind Owl City. Yes, the Antichrist!” Crowley knew Aziraphale wouldn't understand the reference but was too tired to care. "Anyway, he mentioned something about being sick, and I said I'd like to try it some time..."

"Oh, Crowley. You didn't."

"I did. And apparently Adam can still bend the universe to his whims, so." He gestured broadly at himself.  “Be careful what you wish for, I guess.”

"Should we be...concerned? About Adam, I mean. I didn't realize he still had full access to his powers."

"Well, if he's only using them to give demons head colds, I'd say it's nothing to worry about." Crowley's eyebrows quirked up and his breath hitched one, two, three times before- "heh’EKSHHiu! IKSHhuuh! AKSHhiuu!" He shook his head. "Nguh. Sure is annoying, though."

Aziraphale offered a soft smile and cupped Crowley's cheek with a gentle hand. "Poor dear. I don't suppose we could miracle it away?"

"Probably not a great idea to try and undo the wishes of the Antichrist."

"No, probably not. We could always ask Adam to undo it, though."

Crowley scoffed. "If you want to try driving us up to Tadfield, be my guest, but I think if I drive, I'll sneeze us off the road."

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment, then stood up. "Right then." With the snap of his fingers, a thick white blanket appeared and draped itself over Crowley. "We'll deal with this the human way."

"Aziraphale, what're you-?"

"Hush," he said, tucking the blanket snug around Crowley. "You just rest. Let me take care of you."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I want to." Aziraphale brushed a strand of hair out of Crowley's face. "You're always so kind to me." Crowley started to hiss, but Aziraphale continued. "You are. You're so kind and you do so much for me, and, well... I'd like to return the favor." He placed a light kiss on Crowley's forehead. "Is that alright?"

"Mm," Crowley hummed. "Very alright. Thank you."

"Of course, my dear. Now rest and I'll put some tea on, hm?"

Letting his eyes slip shut, Crowley did as he was instructed for perhaps the first time in his immortal life.  

[it-refused]

Prompt:  I'd love to see you do sickfic between Alphys, Papyrus, and Undyne (combination of shipping and platonic). It doesn't matter who gets sick!

Thank you for the prompt, undertailsoulsex!  I actually kept going a bit past this point and was starting to write about Papyrus going home and starting to get sick, too, but then I realized I was plotting out like an 8-9k fic, whoops.  x.x

Rating: G

Summary: It’s dangerous when Undyne sneezes.

Undyne sneezed and the force of her head moving knocked a hole into the sheetrock of her apartment.

"WOWIE!" Papyrus rushed over.  "IS THIS A NEW TRAINING TECHNIQUE? IMPRESSIVE!"  He copied her, minus the sneeze, and now there were two holes in the wall.  He rocked backward and sat down, hard, on the floor.  "NYEH-HEH HEH!  NEXT TIME, I WILL HIT THE WALL EVEN HARDER!  AND MY HEAD WILL BECOME...STRONGER?"  He looked confused.  "THAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THIS EXERCISE, CORRECT?" He rubbed his skull.

"Yeah, sure!" Undyne was a tiny bit embarrassed, so she decided to just roll with it.  "The next part is where we, uh...go down to the hardware store and grab the stuff we need to fix that, before Alphys gets back!"  She sniffed and wiped her face on the back of her sleeve.

"NO ONE SHOULD UNDERESTIMATE YOUR WISDOM!  WE SHOULD NOT BREAK THINGS UNLESS WE CAN PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER AGAIN."

"Exactly!" She slapped him on the back, and he doubled over, his face knocking onto the floor.  The floor was carpeted, so they didn't have to figure out how to fix that, too.

"PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH ME WITH THE ARM YOU WIPED YOUR NOSE ON," Papyrus said.  

"Sure!  I'll just blow my nose on this big red tissue hanging around your neck!"

Papyrus was on his feet and across the room in impressive time.  She wished she'd gotten out a stopwatch.

Undyne's gills on her sides felt stickier than normal.  Alphys had asked her that morning if she had allergies, and now Undyne was wondering, too.  A cold would be a pain in the ass.  She cleared her throat.  Did it feel a little sore?  NAH!  She had too much stuff to do!

Papyrus drove them to the hardware store and called his brother to ask what they needed to pick up.  Undyne leaned against one of the shelves and rubbed at her eye.  She was suddenly starving.  She wanted to stop at a fast food place and get a few bags of the greasiest food she could find. Maybe she could tell Papyrus she needed to stop there because Alphys was collecting the kids' meal toys.  

She sneezed, again, and knocked half the things off the shelf she was leaning on. Nothing broke, but she and Papyrus hung around trying to help the staff clean up her mess.  She was politely thrown out after another sneezing fit almost broke one of the workers' arms.  

"This is bullshit!" she yelled, outside the building.  Not getting thrown out -- that was pretty reasonable.  Her sneezing was starting to really get to her.  Her gills kept twitching and her eye itched. What was left of her other eye wasn't feeling great, either.  

She sniffed and wiped her nose on the handkerchief Papyrus had lent to her.  It was custom-made, with a photograph of his face printed on it.  She didn't think he had thought through the design, but she was still going to use it.  She'd managed to destroy her own in the last hour.

A strong gust of wind made the trees lining the street bend, and Undyne noticed dust get tossed off and blown through the air.  She shook her fist at it and yelled.  If she did have allergies, pollen was her most likely enemy.  

A human walking past heard her cursing out the trees, and joined in.  "Yeah, fuck you, pollen!" she yelled.  

"You think you're safe because you're too small to punch, but JUST YOU WAIT!" Undyne said.  

A few more people came over, curious.  

"OH!  YOU HAVE BEEN VERY BUSY, UNDYNE!"  Papyrus said, when he left the hardware store.  "THIS IS AN IMPRESSIVE MOB YOU HAVE FORMED IN SUCH A SHORT TIME."

She took a breath to reply, but something caught in her throat, and she coughed.  Papyrus urged her back to his car, and back home, leaving her new friends behind.

"This sucks!" she said, when she could talk again.  

"YOU WERE VERY ANGRY AT THOSE TREES, BUT I AM SURE THEY WILL DECIDE TO LEAVE THEIR OLD WAYS BEHIND THEM," Papyrus said.  "THEY WILL SHED THEIR PAST.  THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS POSITIVE OF THIS."  

"I wish I'd knocked those trees down with my bare fists!"  She said, still angry.  "But then there'd just be more pollen everywhere! People shouldn't have to suffer like this!"  They needed a hero to--

She started to cough, again.  This couldn't be a cold, right?  She hadn't had one of those in years.  She was too tough for colds!  Or, anyway, she'd been really lucky and they sucked.  She'd spent that whole illness alone, only getting up to heat up some water for tea every now and then.  

She remembered Alphys offering to bring her soup, and turning her down.  Undyne hadn't really wanted Alphys to see her with ooze seeping out of her orifices.  She still didn't, but she sure wouldn't mind some of that soup.

"Do you think Alphys will make me something good if I'm really sick?"  Undyne asked.

"WHAT? LIKE...SOME KIND OF GOOD...WHAT?  ROBOT?  OF COURSE!  PERHAPS ONE THAT WILL TEND TO YOUR WHIMS?  OH!  I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR EYES THAT MY FIRST GUESS WAS WRONG!  LET ME PUZZLE IT...OH!  WILL SHE MAKE YOU A GOOD PUZZLE?  I CERTAINLY HOPE SO.  I HAVE IT ON THE HIGHEST AUTHORITY THAT PUZZLING OVER LOVINGLY CRAFTED PUZZLES WHEN YOU ARE ILL KEEPS YOUR MIND SHARP AND HELPS YOU RECOVER FASTER THAN YOU OTHERWISE WOULD."  

"Where'd you hear that?" she asked, curious.  

"FROM THE GREATEST AUTHORITY OF ALL: ME!  PAPYRUS!  A WELL KNOWN AUTHORITY ON BOTH PUZZLES AND HEALTH!"  

"Alphys is really good at making puzzles," Undyne said, rubbing at her eye. "She's such a nerd!"

"WELL, THEY SAY THAT WHEN YOU SOLVE A PUZZLE MADE BY SOMEONE WHO CARES PASSIONATELY ABOUT YOU, THAT PASSION TRANSFERS TO YOU, AND YOU CAN THEN OVERCOME ANY OBSTACLE, PUZZLE AND NON-PUZZLE ALIKE."

"Who's they?" she asked, grinning.

"THEY ARE I! THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"Yeah!  My head feels like someone shoved a damp towel in it, so I don't think I get what you just said! But I like the sound of it!"  

"I PROMISE YOU THAT IT SOUNDED JUST AS YOU WOULD EXPECT FROM ME."  

"That cleared it up.  Thanks!  Anyway, I hope Alphys makes me some soup or something," she said.  Alphys had some really fancy expensive ramen she saved for special occasions.  It cost like two bucks. Maybe she would lovingly prepare it for Undyne.  Maybe...she'd wear something cute when she brought it in for her?  ...No, probably not, but...maybe it wouldn't be so bad being sick, this time.

They fixed up the wall and Papyrus made them both lunch.  She sat down on the couch and didn't want to get up again.  Her whole body felt heavy, and the couch was more comfortable than it had been yesterday.  

"Wow, you've really leveled up your cooking skill!" she said, surprised by how good Papyrus' lunch tasted to her.  Maybe she was just very hungry.  

"I AM ALWAYS IMPROVING, WHICH IS SURPRISING TO HEAR FROM SOMEONE WHO WAS ALREADY THE BEST," Papyrus said.

"You can't let any loser catch up with you," Undyne said.

"IT MUST BE DIFFICULT.  BEING CURSED TO ALWAYS BE SECOND BEST.  WHOEVER IS SECOND BEST TO ME, I HOPE THEY NEVER GIVE UP."

Undyne laughed.  She loved Papyrus' enthusiasm.  

"NOW, I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE AN ENORMOUS NUMBER OF IMPORTANT TASKS TODAY, BUT SINCE...YOU KEEP HAVING...SETBACKS...YOU MIGHT HAVE MORE SUCCESS WITH THEM IF YOU WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW TO COMPLETE THEM," Papyrus said, speaking with great care.

"I guess I don't want to have to fix another wall," Undyne said.  It was annoying, but she should probably get her sneezing under control before she destroyed the home she and Alphys shared.  

"MY FATHER TEXTED WHILE I WAS COOKING THIS DELICIOUS MEAL AND INFORMED ME THAT MY BROTHER HAS CONTRACTED SOME VILE ILLNESS.  PERHAPS YOU HAVE THE SAME THING?"  

"Maybe something's going around."  She set her plate down and pulled her legs up on the couch.  Yeah, a nap sounded like a good idea.  

When Undyne woke up, she felt even worse than before her nap.  Papyrus wasn't around, but he had draped a blanket (or, four, actually, when she counted) over her before he left.  He had left a large glass of milk on the table, and her dirty plate from lunch was long gone and probably washed and put away.  The next time anyone said anything bad about Papyrus near her, they were going to learn what the word "pain" meant, on an intimate level.

She got to her feet and brought the milk into the kitchen.  She put it in a saucepan and tried to heat it up on the stove.  She came close to boiling it all away, but at least the small amount she had left wasn't cold.  

Undyne heard the front door rattling in the next room and padded over to the door in bare feet, sipping her hot milk.  

"Oh, dammit!" Metal hit floor.  Alphys had dropped her keys again.  

Undyne opened the door for her.  "Hey, what's going on out here?"

"Just my dumb useless claws being d-dumb and useless again!" Alphys said, bright.  She scooped up her keys and straightened.  "Oh! Undyne!  You look awful!"  She blanched.  "I mean--I mean, you look amazing, but...maybe...not...well?  god, I couldn't have said that any worse, right?"

"If I look like shit, I look like shit," Undyne said.  That meant how she felt matched how she looked.  

"You don't look like--you don't look that bad!  Just...you should be in bed!  I think my, um, hypothesis was wrong.  There were three monsters out at the lab, today!"

"I guess Papyrus' brother is sick, too," Undyne said.  

"I saw Dr. Gaster posting about that online," Alphys said.  She came inside and Undyne closed the door.  Alphys locked it.  She nervously touched Undyne's arm, pushing just a little bit, like she was trying to direct her to their bedroom.  

"I just got up," Undyne admitted.  "Papyrus convinced me to take a nap, and now I feel even more like crap."

"I wonder if we have any medicine left?"  Alphys asked.  

"You were really chugging it," Undyne said, laughing.

"I think there's a little, though."  She started to go and check.  "Oh, uh...what happened to the wall?  Should I ask?"  She laughed, nervous.

The spackle hadn't dried fast enough for them to paint it up like new, yet.  "That was a pretty big sneeze,"  Undyne said.  

"Oh, uh...jeez. Maybe I can reinforce the walls with something?  Later?  Wait, I was getting medicine."  Alphys started to walk again, and then stopped.  "Or...Undyne, what do you want me to do?  I want to help, but the worst I've seen you sick was from, um, a hangover, maybe?"

"Do you remember when I was sick right after we met?  And you said you'd make me soup, but I thought I'd gross you out too much, so I was a coward and didn't let you come by?"

"That's not how I remember it, but...do you want me to make dinner?"  

She didn't sound really into the idea.  "I'm okay, so you don't have to."

"What?  No, I want to help!"  She suddenly stood up as straight as she could. "Sorry I'm so...everywhere.  I really really want to help!  So tell me how?  Or...I can just...guess?  Ok!  I'll start some soup, and then go get your medicine.  If we don't have any, I'll go out and get some after dinner!  So I won't change into my pajamas right away so I won't look like a complete loser when I go to the potion shop later.  Ok.  Ok!  I know what I'm doing!"

"Yeah!  You've got it figured out."

"And...you!" Alphys turned on her.  "G-go to bed!  Put on lots of blankets and stop moving around!"

"You're really taking charge, Alphys," Undyne said.  "I like it!  Sure. I'll go settle in, and you can bring me stuff!"  She kind of liked this.  

"Is that what you usually do, when you're sick?"  Alphys asked.  

"I drink lots of hot tea, turn up the space heater, pile on the blankets, and sweat it out.  The germs come right out of your pores.  Sometimes I'll toss the blankets in the dryer right before I use 'em!"

"And that works?"

"Sure, I guess! It doesn't kill me, anyway," she said, smiling.

"Um, ok.  I'll bring you the space heater later."

Undyne grabbed the extra blankets off the couch and brought them into the bedroom with her.  

[ice-cream-beat]

Terqua #5 please :3c

I’m sorry this took so long! getting sick really kills my will to write, ugh. hopefully it was worth the wait! |D

#5: cuddling

Summary: Aqua, bearing a number of scars that she kept hidden these days with full-length gloves. Terra, whose lack of them was the biggest scar of all, a testament to so many idle years. [Terra + Aqua, post-KH3.]

Ao3 version here

/ / / / /

“Come in.” Aqua didn’t look up as she called over. When her bedroom door opened a moment later she expected to see Ven, wide awake with an apologetic smile – it wouldn’t be his first late-night visit, especially lately – but as she finally pulled her attention away from her hands and raised her head, she didn’t hide her slight surprise. “Terra. Hey.” The normal thing to ask would have been What are you still doing up? but she only smiled to let him know he was welcome.

“I noticed your light was on,” he told her, glancing at the small lamp that illuminated the bed and not much else. “Everything all right?”

“Mm.” She bobbed her head. “I just wanted to work on this.” Her gaze returned to the handkerchief she’d spread out on the bed in front of her crossed legs. On it were a thin pair of pliers, some silver pieces of various sizes and shapes, and a five-pointed charm that glinted in the low light.

“Hey, that looks good,” Terra observed. He’d stepped up beside her. “Is that new glass?”

“No, it’s the same.” Aqua’s tone was fond as she spoke. It had been painstaking, requiring a lot of patience and resulting in a number of fine cuts on her fingers, but she had procured every last piece.

“And you put it all back together?” He sounded impressed. “How’d you do that?”

Her smile turning sly, she shot him a teasing look. “Crafting secret,” she told him. He chuckled as he crossed his arms.

“All right, I won’t ask. But you know this just means me ‘n Ven will always come to you when delicate things need fixing, right?”

“That’s okay.” Aqua meant it. Gingerly, she turned the charm over to give it another once-over. There was no sign of its previous damage, no indication that the silver frame had only recently been contorted sharply out of shape, or that much of the green glass had been either cracked or shattered completely.

She’d actually finished repairing the Wayfinder a couple hours ago. Rather than announcing that it was complete, however, Aqua now hesitated, continuing to run her fingers along the smooth edges.

He touched her shoulder. “Aqua?”

She tensed a little out of reflex, but detected the concern in his voice and quickly turned another smile up at him. “Yeah. I was just thinking.”

Terra studied her face for a few heartbeats, but apparently found nothing to point out. He moved away, walking the length of the bed, around it, and then to the other side to sit down beside her on the mattress. She gave him a curious glance, but now he had taken to locking his gaze on the Wayfinder.

“Is that what’s been keeping you up?” he asked quietly.

Aqua blinked. “I… no.” Her smile turned reassuring. “It wasn’t that much work, Terra–”

“Not this.” He looked at her and Aqua felt her expression fade before she could try to catch it. “That day… when it broke.”

She opened her mouth to give the same answer, but it didn’t come. She couldn’t lie. Not to him, and not to herself despite how often she tried.

Breathing in deep, Aqua held it for several seconds, but the sigh never came. She let it out slowly and quietly. “…No,” she repeated, finally. Then she corrected, “Yes. But not – it’s not keeping me awake. I just…” Couldn’t keep herself from thinking about it when she was awake. That wasn’t the same, right?

She wasn’t even sure why that day bothered her more than any other. As terrible and grueling as the fighting had been, it was nothing she hadn’t already been through. They hadn’t lost anybody. Their injuries had healed. Hearts were mended, friends reunited, homes restored. And yet… and yet one moment in particular still stuck with her.

Maybe it was because she’d never felt a fear so sharp and cold before. Maybe it was the chilling recollection of hearing glass shatter and iron crunch in the same instant that she noticed a bright streak of scarlet painted across the dry, brown earth. Maybe it was because she never, ever wanted to see Ven like that again, lying on his side and curled weakly around what was left of his shattered chestplate, clothing and skin in tatters–

This time she did exhale heavily, sharp and loud as if to expel those memories in the same gesture. Her fingers tightened carefully around the Wayfinder.

“It was… so close, Terra. So many times.” Her left hand grasped at the Master symbol on her chest. She still hadn’t changed for bed. “Not just then. All the times I could’ve been lost to the darkness… never making it back to him… And then, even when we were together again…” She shook her head feebly. “I know dwelling on the past doesn’t do anything,” she said more firmly. “But… you know what it’s like. Your head and your heart don’t always agree. There are some things I can’t just… force myself to forget.”

Not in the middle of the night, especially, when exhaustion blurred the line between dreaming and waking. She’d awoken in a startled panic several times this week alone, wrestling with her hazy thoughts to try and remember if Terra and Ven were truly all right. They were terrible, heart-stopping moments that she dreaded even more than her nightmares.

“Yeah,” said Terra quietly. “I do know. So I won’t tell you to just forget about it.” His gaze fell away, and for a long moment they sat in silence. When next he spoke, he turned towards her again, although his eyes remained downcast towards the bed. “But… can I ask you something?”

She nodded. “Mm.”

“D’you remember when we woke Ven up?”

The question appeared so misplaced that Aqua knew what moment he was referring to. She cast him a curious sidelong look, but nodded again. “Of course.”

“That look on his face – he wasn’t surprised to see us. He wasn’t upset, either.” Terra exhaled softly, the only hint of his silent laugh. “He was happier than I ever remember seeing him. I’d bet you anything, Aqua, that he never doubted you. He always knew you’d keep your promise. And I think that–” He looked at her, his expression as sincere as she’d always known it to be. “–is a lot more important than all those close-calls and what-ifs combined.”

Terra had always been a man of action over words – but sometimes, like now, he surprised Aqua with knowing just what to say. She broke into a small smile, comforted but also touched. He wasn’t just trying to reassure her; he believed what he said. That honesty meant just as much to her as the gesture. Maybe more.

“Both of us,” she corrected.

“Hm?”

Scooting closer, Aqua set her head on his shoulder and pulled her knees up to her chest. “He knew we’d both come back. He trusted both of us to keep our promises.” She turned the Wayfinder over once more, watching flecks of green dance across the far wall. “…I knew it, too,” she murmured after a moment. “I always thought… even if I never found a way out of the darkness, that you would. You would keep fighting. And you did.”

“Aqua–” There was a frown in his voice.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. We’re all here now.” Facing her fears – her old fears – wasn’t so hard anymore. “And it’s thanks to you two just as much as anyone else. You gave me the strength to keep going. You reminded me why giving in was never an option.” There was no pain in her voice, only contentment. Relief. Never during those thirteen years would Aqua have imagined she could speak fondly of that time, but in hindsight even the bitter cold of that other realm couldn’t hold a candle to the comforting, welcoming warmth that she lived in now.

She felt Terra’s hand on her back, the heel of his palm making small, gentle circles between her shoulders. The same hand that had brandished his Keyblade with thinly bridled fury that fateful day, keeping their enemies at bay and buying her time to heal Ven. “It was the same for me,” he told her. “Always. And I know Ven would say so, too.”

Aqua smiled. One last time, she turned the Wayfinder over and under, her tired eyes searching for any imperfection that she already knew wasn’t there. Terra leaned in close to her ear. “It’s fine,” he told her in a loud whisper. It worked as probably intended: she laughed.

“All right,” she agreed, “it’s done. I’ll give it back in the morning.” She pulled away to set it on the bedside table, but then immediately resumed her snug place against Terra’s side. He surprised her by catching her hand and turning it over with care, observing the pink welts on her fingertips.

“Working hard,” he commented. Aqua closed her hand, but didn’t pull it away.

“Like you can talk. How many blisters of yours did I have to heal when we were kids?”

“Don’t complain. You got a lot of practice.”

She turned to playfully bump his shoulder with her forehead, but then chose to linger there, and after a moment let her eyes slide closed. It was dark with her back to the lamp like this, dark enough that she would quickly lift her head again were she alone, but with Terra here there was no need. Like every night, her hearing sharpened and she listened to the faint creaks of the castle, the passing of the summer wind outside her window, the distant hum of the surrounding waterfalls.

She listened to her heartbeat in her ears, slower than on the nights she spent alone. She listened to Terra’s quiet breathing, to the soft sound of skin sliding over skin as he continued to rub her back.

It was pleasant. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there.

“No more plans for the night?”

Aqua was pretty sure she hadn’t fallen asleep, but his voice broke her concentration just as abruptly. She withdrew a little, just enough to blink up at him. “No.” No more distractions to keep herself up now. She felt a small chill when Terra’s touch pulled away, and she couldn’t help feeling disappointed when he appeared to rise, surely to leave – but instead he only leaned forward to retrieve the quilt she kept folded at the bottom of her bed. He also reached behind her, straightening out the pillows she’d previously propped against the headboard.

“Come on,” he prompted with a gentle tilt of his head.

She kept to the left side of the bed; he took the right. But as he pulled the quilt up over them both, Aqua inched closer until she could rest her head against the inside of his shoulder again, until their knees had no choice but to overlap and it was more natural to just slide her arm over his side. She was so used to having Ven between them that for a moment it was almost strange, being so intently focused on nothing but one another. It hadn’t been the two of them like this in a long time.

Only for a moment. She felt him brush her hair back from her face – with the same hand that had pulled her out of the darkness that day, refusing to let her fall even if the cost was himself. (But unlike a similar day years ago, they hadn’t been alone. No cost had to be paid this time. The darkness claimed nobody else.) The gesture made her smile, though he couldn’t see it.

She stayed awake for a while. Judging by the sound of his breathing, he did, too. Aqua was tired, but she was in need of simple relaxation, of comfort and quiet and calm, more than sleep. Terra gave her that, even though neither of them spoke again for the rest of the night.

Only when she felt her thoughts begin to slow and drop off did she finally move again, finding Terra’s hands and holding them between her own, down between their chests. There had been a time when she thought she would never have such simple gestures again, when she wished she hadn’t taken so much for granted. Now she wouldn’t.

His hands were worn from wielding, calloused with effort, unchanged from years and years ago. (Having no body for over a decade did wonders for preservation.) The same hands that had held her life in them numerous times and still held her heart now.

In contrast, hers were marked by time and aged by trials, scarred in desperation and attesting to the worst kind of survival. Lines thick and thin, long and short, deep and shallow crossed over her palms, the insides of her fingers, and wrapped up around her knuckles in a few places.

Aqua, bearing a number of scars that she kept hidden these days with full-length gloves. Terra, whose lack of them was the biggest scar of all, a testament to so many idle years. At least, she knew that was how he thought; she knew better, well aware of how long and hard he had fought in his heart. In the end, she wondered who had truly had the more difficult struggle.

She leaned down, touching her forehead to their joined fingers and breathing out, slow and heavy. He responded by setting his chin in her hair, effectively tucking her in against his chest as he turned his hands over and gripped her fingers gently in return, never questioning her movements – or maybe he already understood them.

Tangled and warm and peaceful, they stayed like that until they fell asleep, and then after.

[in-an-ecotone]

Champions of Worlds

Hey remember when I said this chapter would take a while? Yeah that was a lie. I’ve been writing all day and it’s finished already. It’s shorter than the others, 1840 words, but I think you will find it quite... um... interesting. Yeah, interesting. It’s from Thom’s perspective, just so you know. I hope you enjoy it.

(Warning: there is a good amount of blood involved, so if that makes you uncomfortable, you might not want to read this)

Chapter 8-

After the meeting, Kaj tried to avoid me. I couldn’t blame him, after our fight last week. And then I voted against him on this whole issue with Oriana. Even so, I was sick of this estrangement; nothing would be fixed through distance. I confronted him as soon as the meeting ended.

“Hello Kaj,” I said softly. He avoided my eyes.

“Hi Thom,” He said. We both stood in awkward silence for a few moments.

“I guess you’re happy about this result,” I muttered bitterly. He lifted his emerald green eyes to meet mine.

“Yes, I’m satisfied. I would have preferred for Jasper to win the vote, but I’m happy for Quilo,” He arched an eyebrow at me.

That bitch, I thought angrily. He knows that’s not what I meant.

“I meant about Oriana,” I clarified. He smirked at me and I frowned.

“Well yes, I am happy with that result. Oriana was a tyrant,” He claimed.

“Oriana was our friend!” I growled. Kaj stepped backwards abruptly. Heads turned toward us. I didn’t care. She might have made a mistake, but Oriana was a good friend. “She didn’t deserve that,” I said quietly.

“What happened to us being on the same team?” He asked. I heard the door creak open and shut behind me.

“We were on the same team when you weren’t condemning our friends,” I spat.

“She unfairly kicked Piera off the Council, and then tried to kick me off!” He yelled. “How can you defend her?”

“She made a mistake! Anyone could have!” I shouted, grabbing his suit. He gasped, but quickly recovered and pushed me away from him.

“A mistake?” He scoffed, laughing. “Oh yeah, a mistake! Obviously, it was a complete accident that she called herself a dictator, of course! Well guess what, you piece of shit! Even if it was a mistake, that would mean she’s incapable of properly leading us!”

“Oh, fuck off!” I yelled. “Like you’d do any better!”

“Oh, because you could?” He questioned.

“Might I remind you that I was the one who was nominated,” I said.

“Might I remind you that you were the one who lost?” He smirked. I clenched my fists tightly. He noticed, and gripped his cane a little tighter. People were starting to filter out of the meeting hall.

“At least I was nominated, unlike you,” I pointed out harshly.

“Oh yeah, nominated by Oriana. Is that why you like her so much? She gave you the chance at a scrap of power,” He spat.

“You talk so much shit, but you seem to be getting all buddy-buddy with Jasper. What’s going on between you two, huh?” I accused.

“Don’t fucking start with that!” He yelled, stepping forward aggressively.

“Why not? You scared I’ll find something? What’s going on, Kaj? What are you doing with that bitch in your spare time?” I taunted. He roared and tackled me. We fell to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. He lifted his cane into the air and struck my face. He went to strike again, but this time I lifted a hand to stop him. I caught the cane an inch away from my face, and I pushed up on it with all my might. He toppled off of me, but came to his feet easily. I stood and charged at him. He slid out of the way and hit my side with the cane. I was pushed toward the ground, but I waved my arms to keep my balance.

Kaj, who was breathing heavily already, stood about five feet from me, leaning on his cane. He removed his green jacket, revealing a white vest over his white dress shirt and a red tie. He threw the jacket onto the table and rolled up his sleeves. His hair was falling into his face. As he adjusted his wardrobe, I adjusted mine. I removed the red velvet jacket, but Kaj was already running at me before I had time to roll up my sleeves. He brought his cane down on me, and I rolled backwards to avoid him.

“That was hardly fair!” I growled.

“A little saying my humans have, Thom, is,” He paused to straighten himself and step toward me. “Life isn’t fair.”

He pulled on his cane and the entire thing detached from the handle. It slid down, revealing two thin daggers with  simple black handles. His sacred weapon. He tossed the cane, which was evidently a sheath, to the floor. I backed away from him, only to find myself up against a wall. Kaj pointed a blade at my face. It was almost touching my nose.

“Now Thom,” He said in a sweet voice. His eyes were narrowed, his hair was messy, his hands were splattered with blood, but his clothes were as perfect as ever. “You don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, let’s just call this whole thing off and go home. It’s not like you could win anyway.”

“Try me, bitch,” I spat in his face. He sighed, taking a handkerchief out to wipe his face.

“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance,” He sang. With rapid reflexes, he whipped the dagger in his left hand at my side, keeping the one at my face steady. I moaned, sliding down to the floor. My shirt and vest quickly became damp with blood. Kaj stood over me, keeping a dagger trained at my nose. He raised the other dagger and brought it down over me. I rolled forward and stood up, and pain shot through my side. I kept a hand over my wound, and with my free hand I grabbed Kaj’s cane. It wasn’t much, but at least I was armed.

Kaj’s reaction was swift. He lunged forward and swept a dagger at my face. Fortunately for me, I was just out of his range. Clutching the cane like my life depended on it (which it possibly did at this point), I swung it at his side. It struck him in the ribs, causing a sickening cracking sound. He doubled over, gasping at the pain. I raised the cane over his back and brought it down with all my weight. It snapped in half, ripping the back of his vest and opening a thin cut. His white shirt and vest stained immediately. I plunged the now sharpened end of the cane into his side, gaining another gasp of pain. He fell to the ground, and I stood over him, panting.

“I can’t win, huh?” I said. I stepped over him, making my way toward the door. I placed a hand on the doorknob when I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I whipped around to see Kaj, clutching his side where there was still half of his cane, standing hunched over with a hand raised. There was a trail of blood coming from where he had been lying, and the rest of the cane and his other dagger were still on the floor.

“No,” He said, his voice raspy. “No you can’t.” He ripped the cane out of his side, screaming with pain. There were bits of flesh hanging from the cane, and I almost hurled. Before I could react, he thrusted the broken cane into my stomach. He threw me sideways to the floor and stepped over me out the door. I moaned in pain, but no one was there to hear me. I pushed myself off the ground, trembling. My vision was going blurry, and I was swaying uncontrollably. I leaned on the wall as I limped out of the meeting hall. I could see the trail of blood from where Kaj went. I inched across the wall, leaving a trail of blood as I went.

After ten dreadful minutes, I reached my section. However, it was across the hallway, and I would have no support walking across. I had never been so intimidated by an empty hallway. Panting heavily, I pushed off the wall and stumbled forward. The room was still swaying, and I was having a hard time keeping my balance. About halfway across, I fell over with a thud. The impact winded me, but I had to keep going. I had emergency provisions in my section. When I tried to stand up, my hands were too shaky to support my weight, and I fell to the floor again. I dragged myself across the floor, and after another laborious minute, I reached my section.

I clawed at the wall and pulled myself upright. My head was pounding so loud in my ears I couldn’t hear myself think. I pressed onward; I was so close. When I finally reached my bathroom, my vision was so blurry I could hardly see. My provisions were in the top shelf. Fuck, why did I put them in the top shelf? I reached one shaking, bloody hand up to the cabinet and whipped it open. I had to stretch up to grab the first aid cabinet, causing my side to erupt in pain. I dropped the kit and clutched my side, gasping in pain.

I slid backwards onto the floor. I started to unbutton my vest, but my hands weren’t steady enough to use that much finesse. I opened the first aid kit and grabbed a small knife. I sliced down the front of the vest and shirt in a crooked line. When I tried to pull the vest off, the blood caused it to stick to my skin. I took quick, shallow breaths before I ripped the shirt off the wound. I groaned at the pain, but I had to move fast. I slowly pulled the cane out of my gut and grabbed a roll of bandages. Quickly and shakily, I wrapped the bandages around my middle. Blood was already seeping through the bandages. I kept wrapping, but they weren’t tight enough. My hands were too shaky. This wasn’t working. I needed help.

I needed to get to a holoscreen. There, I could call for help. I pulled myself out of the bathroom. I couldn’t stand up, so I dragged myself across the floor to my room. I reached a hand up to the door handle, but I struggled to open it. No, no, I couldn’t fail here. I had come so far, I couldn’t stop now. My vision was getting dark. Fuck, no, I can’t stop now. I just can’t. I used my entire forearm to throw the door open. Because I had been leaning on the door, I fell onto the floor. The tile beneath my skin was cold. It felt nice, the cold. I almost didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t bring myself to go any further. I was just so tired. Maybe I could just rest here, for a few moments. Yeah, I could rest for just a little while and then get help when I woke up. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I slumped over on the ground and closed my eyes for a sweet, deep sleep.

So, um, yeah, there you go. Was that unexpected? Probably. I just kinda had this idea while writing and it kind of horrified me, but that made me want to write it even more. Hehe. Hope you liked it.

@asexual-trashbag @d-strider @blueberryxz @deafinatelyfangirling (sorry i forgot to tag people last chapter but i just went back and fixed that sorry)

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico: The Incident

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Hinted Pairing: NozoEli Words: ~2.2k Rating: T? M? Time Frame: Late in Maki's 1st year and Nico's 3rd year in college. Story Arc: "The Incident" The Incident Aftermath Camelot Forgiven

List of all HtHaN scenes

Author’s Note: Ughn... I’ve been dreading writing this since I first referenced it back when I wrote HtHaN 2. However, after several people inquired about it, I finally started writing it... a month ago. A month of writing a few sentences, putting it off to write more fluff, staring at what I had, staring at my notes, rinsing and repeating, and I’m still not honestly happy with it, though mostly because I’ve never written fights like this before.

Fair warning, this is not like the other fluffier and happier scenes that I’ve written for HtHaN thus far. Lots of cursing and some violence resulting in a hospital visit is the theme of this scene. So here it is, The Incident.

“What did you do this time, Nicocchi?”

The raven-haired girl on the barstool ignored the purple haired girl approaching her and knocked back the shot in her hand instead. An expression of mild disgust wrinkled her face as she set the glass back down on the bar and motioned for the barkeeper to pour another.

“Well?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Nico growled. “Go away.”

Nozomi crossed her arms. “What did you and Maki-chan fight about?”

“Did the cards tell you that?”

“No. You did.”

“I didn’t say anything about Maki.”

“You’re drinking vodka.” The older girl pointed out. “You hate vodka. You only drink it after you and Maki-chan have a fight… or when Elicchi forgets your distaste for it and pours you some.”

“Or when you try to sneak it into my drink.” The shorter girl glared daggers at the other.

“You’re also drinking it straight, despite preferring mixed drinks.” Nozomi continued, taking a seat beside Nico. “Must have been some fight.”

“…”

“Was it about the test?”

Nico grunted.

“Did you fail?”

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I got a C.”

“And Maki-chan thinks you could have done better?”

“… Yeah…”

The shrine maiden squinted at the part-time idol beside her. “Maki-chan’s not the type get that upset about a C, or at least not upset enough to cause you two to fight to the point that you felt the need to drown your sorrows in vodka. What aren’t you telling me?”

“…”

Nozomi curled her fingers and was just about to bring her hands up when Nico leaned away reflexively.

“Alright, alright!” the twin-tailed girl cried before realizing they were still in public. Thankfully, the overall din of the bar crowd drowned out most of her outburst. Still, she lowered her voice to a more appropriate level. “Keep your damn hands to yourself!”

“So, tell me. All of it.”

Nico poured another shot down her throat before sighing. “Well, Maki knew this test was coming up, so last week, she offered to help me study for it.”

“Alright.”

“But that day, Rin got sick and wasn’t able to go with Hanayo to a concert. Naturally, I was the first choice to get the extra ticket, and there was no way I was going to pass up such an opportunity! It was a one night only deal and it sold out in like an hour! Hanayo only got the tickets in the first place because she got lucky in a raffle!”

“Go on.”

“So, I called Maki an’ told her I needed to cancel. She got all huffy and said she was busy when I tried to reschedule fer the next night.”

“So, that’s why you asked me to help you study.”

“Yeah. But then, right as I was leavin’ class to meet you, out a’ the blue, Maki calls and suddenly says she wants to help me after all.”

“… And you turned her down.” Nozomi chewed her lip as she was suddenly fairly certain she knew the story’s conclusion.

“Of course!” Nico huffed. “I’s only fair. She turned me down first.”

“Actually, you turned her down first.”

“Same diff’rence.”

“So Maki-chan thinks that you would have done better if she had been the one to help you study?” Nozomi understood the sentiment but couldn’t help feel a little bit insulted.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Nico waved for another refill.

“Did you apologize?”

“For what?” Nico sounded exasperated. “Why do I have to ‘pologize? I’s no’ like my grades affect her in any way. I don’ get her sometimes. Why does she care so much ‘bout my grades anyway?”

Nozomi shook her head before making a motion to tell the barkeeper to cut off her friend and bring the bill.

“But yeah, I did apologize.” The twintailed girl grumbled after a moment, staring at her empty glass. “Doesn’ matter anyway. She’s been ignoring me fer two days now. She called to yell at me ‘bout the grade… And tha’s another thin’…” She pointed a finger at the purple haired girl. “I didn’t say jack shit to ‘er ‘bout the grade an’ she gets all nosey and fin’s out anyway and calls me and star’s yellin’ at me for no good reason for like a whole half an hour an’ a half! She almost started cryin’ and stuff.”

“You didn’t even tell her the results?”

“Of courze not!” Nico’s finger wavered a bit. “I’z none off her business! She didn’ help me study or nothin’! She didn’ deserve to know!”

Nozomi sighed.

“I got here as quick as I could.” A voice said from behind the two.

“Elicchi…”

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake!” Nico glared at Nozomi. “You called ‘er ta ‘elp you drag me outta ‘ere?”

“Kicking and screaming if we have to, yeah.” Eli said, hands on her hips.

Nico grunted before turning to get off her stool.

“So, you’ll come willingly?” the blonde asked.

“Bathroom.” The raven-haired girl stated as firmly as she could before wobbling a bit and catching herself on the edge of the bar. “I’ll be right back. Don’ fuckin’ follow me.”

“If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming in after you.” The former student council president replied. “Don’t think I won’t kick down the stall door if I have to.”

“Fuck off.” Nico flashed a rude gesture before staggering towards the restrooms.

This wasn’t the restroom…

This wasn’t even the bar…

Nico turned around only to see that the door she had just stumbled through lacked a handle to allow reentry. How the hell did she get lost going to the god damned bathroom? Angrily, she kicked the door, only to cry out as the steel refused to budge an inch.

Despite the pain, she was about to kick the door again when a wave of nausea washed over her, reminding her of the original reason she needed to use the restroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a dumpster and staggered towards it. Only two steps and she realized there was no way she was going to make it.

As she quickly braced herself against the wall, Nico’s stomach began a violent purge of the night’s consumption. How in every single god forsaken god’s name did Eli drink this vile shit? Russian for water, huh? Fucking bullshit!

“Well, looky here…”

Fuck.

Weary from the exertion of what she felt to be merely the first of many purges, Nico turned to face a figure shrouded in the shadows of the alleyway. “What th’ fuck d’ you want?” she spat.

“What do you think?” the man flashed what looked to be a knife though a shaft of light before him.

“I fergo’ my purse inside…” And my phone… Shit…

“Well that’s not all I can take.”

“Fuck you.”

“What?”

“You hear’ me.” Nico growled, feeling another wave of nausea begin but forcing it down with the anger that was now burning in her gut. She stomped forward. “Fuck you. Wrong fuckin’ night to fuck wi’ me.”

“The hell is wrong with you, bitch? I have a fucking knife!” he waved it again to emphasize his point. “Just fucking give me your watch and whatever jewelry you have and…” His voice was cut off in a silent shout of pain as Nico’s foot found a new target between his legs; a target far softer than the door. As he collapsed, however, his hand holding the knife dropped almost straight down, causing the blade to gouge a trench through his attacker’s leg.

Nico screamed and brought her knee up into the falling man’s face. “You fucking asshole!” She cried. “Don’ fuckin’ fuck with me when I’m fuckin’ pissed off! Ow! Ow! Owww~~…” She whined, also collapsing to the pavement.

“What’s going on?” A voice called from the street outside the alley.

“Oh, my god!” another cried out.

“Someone call the police!” the first shouted.

“I’m calling an ambulance!” a third announced.

“Nicocchi!”

Through tear blurred vision, Nico looked up. “Yer not Nozomi…” She slurred.

“What happened?” Eli asked, kneeling beside her friend.

“I’m fine… I’m…” the drunken girl cut off as she tried to hold down whatever wanted to come up.

“We need to apply pressure to your leg.” Nozomi said, pulling a cloth from her purse. “I’m going to use this. It’s going to hurt when I tighten it.”

“I tol’ ya I’m…”  her head lulled to the side.

“Elicchi, I got this. It sounds like an ambulance is already on the way. Do you have Nicocchi’s mother’s number?”

“I don’t think so…”

“We can dig through her phone for the number later. For now, just call Maki-chan and have her meet us at the hospital.”

“Maki-chan?” the name caused Nico to perk up a bit. “Tell ‘er…” A sloppy grin creased her lips. “Hey, Eli, Eli, hey, tell ‘er, tell Maki-chan she’s annoying… Gah!”

Nozomi tightened the handkerchief.

No.

Maki ended the call.

No. No. No. No. No!

She threw her phone in her purse.

How did this happen?! What if it’s serious?!

She bolted for the door.

Nozomi said she was unconscious when they put her in the ambulance! What if she doesn’t wake up?!

Maki ran down the hallway of the dorm.

Nico-chan!

“Nozomi! Eli!” Maki called, walking swiftly through the hospital ward, resisting the urge to run.

“Ah, Maki-chan!” Nozomi waved upon noticing the approaching redhead. “Nicocchi is in surgery. The wound isn’t life threatening, but it sounds like it will require stitches.”

“Who’s the surgeon?”

Nozomi shrugged.

Of course, she wouldn’t know. Not her fault, most people wouldn’t think to ask.

“I’ll be right back.” Maki excused herself and made her way to the reception desk.

“Ah, Maki-chan!” the middle-aged woman greeted with a smile. “What brings you in this late at night?”

“Hi, Miyuki.” Maki responded. “I’m looking for information about a friend of mine.”

A look of concern crossed the woman’s face. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry to hear that.” She slid her chair closer to her computer. “Your friend’s name?”

“Yazawa Nico.”

“Yazawa…” She typed in the information. “Stab wound. She’s being prepped for surgery now.”

“Who’s on duty tonight?”

“Uhm…” She opened a different screen. “Dr. Hashimoto.”

“Oh, good…” Maki breathed a sigh of relief. “He’ll take good care of her.”

“Want me to have someone contact you when they’re done?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright. Hang in there, Maki-chan. Your friend is in good hands.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Maki turned and trudged back to where her other friends were waiting.

“Everything alright?” Eli asked as the redhead approached again.

“Yeah. Dr. Hashimoto is on duty tonight.” Maki gave a weary smile. “He’s one of our best.” She sat down next to Nozomi. “What happened?”

“Well…”

Nico opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. Where…?

Pain.

Of course, she must be in the hospital now. A quick glance around confirmed this; she was dressed in a gown, laying on a bed with metal rails, and had an IV needle in her arm. Her leg was raised and it hurt. A lot.

“Nico-chan?”

Her head turned towards the chair near her bed where a girl with violet eyes stared worriedly at her.

“What are you doing here.” Not a question; an accusation.

“Wha…” Maki recoiled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You ignore me for days, but then come running when I’m here?”

“Well, yeah… I…”

“You what?”

“I was worried about you!” the redhead said, plaintively. “Eli didn’t know how bad it was when she called me, but there was a lot of blood, you were unconscious, a-and drunk and… Who wouldn’t be worried?”

“Yeah, well I’m fine now.”

“No, you’re not.” Maki shook her head. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Exactly! You’re alive. But I talked with Dr. Hashimoto. Do you know how close that knife came to your femoral artery?”

“No. What’s that?”

“Nico-chan, if that guy had nicked that, you could have bled out before the ambulance even arrived!”

“Yeah, well he didn’t. Like I said, I’m alive.”

“What were you thinking, attacking an armed man?”

“Why do you care?”

Maki gaped as she was caught off guard by the question.

“No, seriously, why do you care, Maki?” Nico crossed her arms and stared at the younger girl. “You’re always nosing around in my business, yelling at me about my grades, calling me an idiot. How did you find out about that last test anyway?”

“You are an idiot.” Maki growled, her eyes narrowing.

“Yup, that’s me.” She held her hands up in her signature gesture. “Nico-nii the idiot idol who gets bad grades, gets drunk and attacks men with knives!” She dropped her hands. “Fuck you, Nishikino.”

“What the hell?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did.” The redhead stood up, clenching her teeth. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry now. “I’m leaving.”

“Good. Get the hell out of here.”

“Good bye, Yazawa.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Maki-chan?” Nozomi looked up to see the younger girl walk by swiftly. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.” Maki said over her shoulder. “Oh…” As she turned her head back, she nearly ran into another woman. “I’m sorry…” She paused as she recognized Nico’s mother. Having had to come in from out of town, she must have just arrived. “Ni… You’re daughter’s going to be fine, but I, uhm… I have to go.”

Without another word, Maki side-stepped the older woman and headed for the exit.

Author’s Note Continued: And now I get to make some retcons to reference the injury Nico has sustained and some of its longer term implications. Yay... Once I figure out what they are, I will list the links here.

Also, I headcanon that at least a handful of staff at the hospital refer to Maki informally since they’ve know her practically all her life. And Maki meets the informality in turn. By the time Maki finally becomes a doctor and begins her residency, said informality is so ingrained in their interactions that anything else feels strange. I may actually write a short scene at some point in which a staff member, quite possibly Miyuki since I introduced her here, addresses the young doctor formally and Maki requests that the informality continue.

[summerbeanuwu]

Please Don't

I’ve been dying to write this story ever since I watched K.will’s Please don’t MV and so… ( Link : https://youtu.be/PdUiCJnRptk ) Ship : SPOILERS! READ UNTIL THE END I’ll definitely reccomend to listen to it while reading it hehe c:

나란히 앉은 자동차 속에선 음악도 흐르지 않아 늘 잡고 있던 니 왼손으로 너 입술만 뜯고 있어

We sit next to each other in the car but there is no music I always held your left hand but now you’re picking at your lips -

Guzma merely stood in one side, sighing heavily as he stretched his limbs, his singlet lifting up as he stretched his back, only to be startled as he felt a sudden push from behind.

When he turn around to scold the culprit, he don’t see anyone. Before he could comprehend anything, he felt someone pulled his cheek as he turned, only to see Burnet, smiling at him as she gave him a cheeky smile.

“ Looks like someone is grumpy~ ”

She cheered as she poke Guzma stomach repeatedly as the other scrunched up his nose.

She knows all my ticklish place.

Guzma thought as he swat Burnet hand away, making the professor-in-training pout as she attempt to once again tickle the other. Teasingly, Guzma raised his hand,as if to hit the female as she shrieked and before Guzma could even attempt to pat Burnet hair, someone blocked his way.

Kukui : that name have always been in his mind. Its the first name he ever heard. This man, is his childhood friend, rival and basically the bane of his existence.

“ Whoa there Guzma!Are you trying to hurt my dear Burnet? ”

“ Of course not Kukui. How could you accuse of your dear friend his like this?” Especially when it is about Burnet?

He push that thought deep down as he watched the two talking softly.

His eyes wander to Burnet , her soft white hair and her beautiful chesnut brown orbs, followed by her slim build. Only after that he felt his heart throb.

Thats when he realise something he never felt before.

- 니가 할 말 알아 그 말만은 말아 Don’t know why Don’t know why 일분 일초 더 끌고 싶은데 텅 빈 길 나를 재촉해

I know what you’re going to say, please don’t say it Don’t know why Don’t know why I want to draw out each minute, each second But the empty road rushes me on -

Sometimes he found himself walking along the sandy area of Alola during the night.

Sure it is late but the refreshing cold breeze hitting him made the whole atmosphere alot better; it lets him think alot clearer and the soothing sound of the tides coming in seemed to help alot.

Its his little small sanctuary: he can escape his pathetic life and dream things he can never have.

This time all he dream about is the way such beautiful brown eyes reflect his face. How silky is the female professor hair is and how lovingly her gaze lay on Kukui.

He ran a hand through his white hair only to note how messy it is all the time.

It disgust him. He thought as he repeated that scene from this morning while he bit his lips.

Yet so perfect He noted how well the pair fit arm in arm, like one of those story book couples which ends with a happily ever after.

He sighed softly as he look out to the blue sea.

“ Why are you like this…Guzma? ”

He asked himself over and over again as the thought of Burnet smiling burnt into his memories.

- 빙빙 돌아온 너의 집 앞이 나 익숙해 눈물이 나와 하루가 멀게 찾아온 여기서 길을 내가 잃은 것 같아

After going round and round, I arrive at your house that’s so familiar and tears fall After spending a long day finding this place, I feel like I am lost -

There’s disadvantages and advantages to sharing a house with your close friends which Guzma learnt today.

Going down to get a snack, he found himself staring at Burnet who is snuggling up with Kukui lovingly. They exchange sweetened words which to Guzma, only sounds like a poisonous knife threatening to stab him.

Even with his empty stomach, he suddenly felt sick; as if his stomach have dropped and he can’t do much to retrieve it.

“ Oh Kukui! Let me go! You are embarassing me in front of Guzma! ”

Her sweet voice sounded as Kukui let go of her as he chuckled.

“ I hope that isn’t awkward buddy. ”

Guzma merely shook his head as he went to take a seat on the sofa, taking a package of potato chips along as he tries to digest the scene he saw, along with the potato chips he held

- 이러지마 제발 떠나지마 제발 Don’t know why Don’t know why 비도 안 오는 유리창 넘어 뿌옇게 멀어지는 너

Please don’t, please don’t leave Don’t know why Don’t know why It’s not even raining but outside the window You grow white and farther apart -

He once ever wonder while he stood by the sandy banks of the same beach. Throwing mini PyukuMukus back to the sea while his mind starts to drift.

What if he have her by his side? Burnet clutching onto his arm as she gave that small smile.

But all he can imagine in a picture, is Burnet clutching into Kukui’s arm instead.Thats when he realised : he never had a chance at the first place, I mean, looking at the way his rival view things so positively, he could already see the real difference between him and himself.

Kukui is just…well Kukui. He is the smarter one, the better one and of course the perfect one, while he can only be the one who got the silver trophy. Kukui is all for big things: including that gold trophy and Burnet.

He took a pyukumuku and throw it hard at the water as he felt the splash drip his hand…or was it his tears? He can’t tell the difference.

“ Guzma, whats wrong with you…? ”

- 말처럼 쉽진 않은 널 보내야 한다는 일 돌아서서 날 버리고 가는 널 보지 못하고 떨구고 마는 눈물도 이젠 닦아야겠지 주머니 속 니가 줬던 손수건을 써야 할 지 이젠 버려야 할지 왜 떨림이 멈추질 않지

Letting you go is not as easy as it sounds I turn away, not being able to see you leave me Tears eventually drop and I need to wipe them away now I don’t know whether I should use the handkerchief you gave me or throw it away Why won’t this trembling go away? -

“ We are getting married!! ”

Those words made Guzma fell rock bottom, as Burnet show her hand, letting the ring on her ring finger shine as well as Kukui’s ring.

Kukui gave a small smile as he kiss the other on the cheek gently as he turned to Guzma.

“ We would love to make you our bridegroom, afterall you are our dearest friend. ”

Please don’t go on

Guzma bit his lips; before coughing. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he swallowed it nervously.

“ S…sure…”

He voiced out, which made the couple smiled as they excitedly tell him the plans of their wedding which fell on deaf ear.

Only a silent ringing could be heard for Guzma,and he tries to held back those tears that threatened to fall as he looked at Burnet.

Those words that came out have a slight touch of intelligence and cheerfulness. While his is rough and crude, something that would never be like Burnet or loved.

-

미친척하고 널 잡아 보려 해도 내 몸이 내 말을 잘 듣지를 않아 차 안에 남은 니 향기에 취해 영영 깨고 싶지 않은걸

I pretend to be crazy and hold onto you but My body won’t listen to me Intoxicated with the scent of you in the car I don’t want to wake up forever -

He remembered how Burnet went down the stairs with her beautiful white dress. How gorgeous she look with every elegant step she takes.

It was breathtaking to him as he tried to take one step forward, only to realise how clumsy he is when he almost fell, which Burnet helped to stabilize him.

“ You look great…”

He thought, and realise how out of place he is : how awful he looked in a tuxedo as he fidgets nervously.

“ Thank you Guzma,you too. ”

Her voice sincere while Kukui pat Guzma on his shoulder which cause him to flinch.

Looking over is Kukui who looked equally breathtaking.

“ Its almost time for our vows, love. ”

Kukui chirped happily which Guzma cringed softly as Burnet threw herself at him.

“ Yes,shall we go?”

- 이러지마 제발(제발) 떠나지마 제발(제발) 돌아와 (돌아와) 돌아와 (돌아와) 니가 떠나간 빈자리 위엔 차가운 향기만 남아

Please don’t (please) don’t leave please (please) Come back (come back) come back (come back) On top of the empty seat you left, only your cold scent remains -

Guzma watched Burnet walking down the aisle, as she looked at Kukui with those soft brown eyes, as they met Guzma cold Silver eyes once, as if thanking him for being their close friend before looking Kukui once again as she walks and stand next to him.

“ We are all gathered here today to witness the marriage of a beautiful couple. ”

Guzma mind once again drift away, not wanting to hear the full vows for he felt his eye shut.

“ Whats wrong with me? ”

- 이러지마 제발 떠나지마 제발 돌아와(돌아와) 돌아와(돌아와) 남은 향기만 안고 있을게 돌아와 니 자리로

Please don’t, please don’t leave Come back (come back) come back (come back) I will hold onto the remaining scent so come back to your place -

Guzma sighed softly as he stood at the balcony. The vows have been exchanged at the party continues.

It was overbearing for him while he stood towering the aisle from their house balcony.

“ Buddy whats wrong? ”

Kukui asked as he leaned on the railing while placing a hand on his friend.

“ Nothing. ”

Kukui sighed as he continued patting his back.

“ Are you worried? That our marriage will affect our friendship trio? ”

Guzma, not knowing what to say just nod, afraid that his voice will betray him once more.

Kukui merely sighed before giving him a smile.

“ Don’t worry Guzma, we won’t forget about you. You are our best friend. ”

Guzma takes one shaky breath as he turned around.

“ Hey! There you boys are! Its time to take a picture! ”

Burnet pout softly which Kukui laughed at this.

“ Lets take a picture of us as a trio alright? ”

Guzma nods as Burnet took his hand along with Kukui as they posed in front of the camera. Subtly noticing how Burnet leans her head on Kukui as he stood there. -

There he is,on the beach again as he look at the photograph.

He takes a shaky breath as he looked at the picture of him and Burnet as he bit his lips and hover over them.

He trembled as he tore his own portrait out off the picture.

He coughed softly as he looked at Burnet one last time.

“ Burnet….Kukui…”

He muttered as he slide his picture over Burnet, as if Kukui was standing next to him.

As if he is as perfect as the girl his love of his life is marrying.

As if those brown eyes were his.

As if he can have the opportunity.

As if he is Burnet. - - - So yes, did I break anyone heart? 8,D

[thedaughterofkings]

random prompt time!

“let me change my prompt due to current events : either James or Sirius being sick and whiny af while the others try to not get annoyed with them and care for them ? and ofc they totally refuse to go to the school nurse, cause someone oculd see them in their less than perfect state ;)”

Surprise! You get a 2 for 1 deal (where I don’t hit either prompt exactly, but aanywaysss) It’s just a tiny ficlet but I hope you enjoy your marauders “yes, playing in the snow will get you sick if you are not dressed for it properly, James” fluff, Larissa! I hope you feel better already today!

“Prongs, Prongs, Prongs!!!”

James drops the miniature quaffle he’d been playing with when Sirius storms into their dorm room.

“Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot, what is it?” he shouts back, grinning when Sirius winces at his volume. Of the two of them James has always had the better set of lungs. But Sirius just shakes his head like a dog and continues: “It’s snowing, Prongs! Come on, come on, Moony’s waiting downstairs already!”

And without waiting for a reply, he runs out the door again like an overexcited puppy. It’s really no wonder that he turns into a dog, James thinks and quickly grabs his coat before following him. Peter is still in the hospital wing after an unfortunate potions incident that has left him literally glowing. He doesn’t need lumos at night to find his way to the loo currently. James is sure that Snivellus put something into Peter’s cauldron, but there’s no way to prove that of course.

Moony’s waiting just outside the front door, almost unrecognisable with a woolen hat tugged low into his eyes and a scarf wrapped all around his neck and mouth and nose. With a gloved hand he pokes James in the side and asks: “Where is your scarf and hat, James? And no gloves either! You’re going to get sick like this!”

He might be glaring at James, too, but not enough of his face is visible to be sure, so James just grins at him charmingly and instead of answering, ducks down and grabs a fistful of snow and rubs it into Remus’ hat. Now he’s definitely glaring.

A war cry from behind is the only warning James get before he gets tackled into the snow by Sirius.

Two hours later he’s wet and shivering and Sirius and Remus are not much better off. They take a quick hot shower in the Quidditch locker rooms and spell their clothes dry, but by the time they are sitting down for dinner James’ head is pounding and he’s sneezing every few minutes. Remus shakes his head and mutters something that suspiciously sounds like “I told you so” but after dinner he still disappears into the direction of the infirmary, probably to beg some cold medicine off Madam Pomfrey. Sirius drags James down another hallway; James is embarrassed to admit that he doesn’t even know where they are going, too groggy and achy to pay attention. When Sirius tickles a pear and a door opens to a great deal of chatter and clanging, he knows where they are even before the high pitched “Masters Potter and Black!” ring through the kitchen.

Sirius waves like he’s on stage with the Weird Sisters and then addresses the head house elf who has just hurried over to them.

“Hey Tibby, James here isn’t feeling too well -” James has to sneeze particularly violently at that moment, which actually makes him proud of his own inherent dramatic timing - “could you make him some tea and perhaps a bowl of soup or something?”

James almost complains that they only just had dinner, but then he realises that he hasn’t actually eaten more than one or two bites because swallowing hurt. Perhaps a soup would go down easier.

Tibby bows low and replies: “Certainly, Master Black, Master Potter will want for nothing! I’ll bring it up myself; you just make sure that young Master Potter is put to bed quickly.”

He looks sternly up at Sirius and James snickers at the image of tiny, elderly Tibby scolding a contrite Sirius. His giggling only earns him a shared concerned look between Sirius and Tibby and Sirius ushering him out of the kitchen. By the time they are up in the dorm room a steaming bowl of soup and three cups of tea are sitting on James’ bedside table and Remy is waiting for them with some vile potion that he forces on James despite his loud protests. Then Sirius forces him to eat at least half the bowl of soup and finally they all squeeze into James’ bed together to sip on their still hot teas.

At one point James must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes next it’s dark in the dorm and he’s under the blankets and it’s warm and somewhat sticky. He’s on his side, turned away from Sirius, who is pressed against his back, and facing Remy, who has slid down a bit further so that he’s almost entirely hidden under the blanket, nose pressed against James’ clavicle, moist breaths dampening James’ shirt there. Sirius has one arm thrown across James, stretched out long enough that he can touch Remus at the same time.

James carefully extracts himself out of their embrace a little, so that he can blow his nose into a conjured handkerchief. Then he snuggles back in, pressing back against Sirius and wrapping his own arm around Remy, linking his fingers with Sirius’ and closes his eyes again with a smile. If this is what getting sick gets him he might need to forget his scarf and gloves more often.