#i hate that i go crazy over arm/chest hair but this man insists on ridding every single hair follicle from his body

[chelseasdagger]

good morning i’m thinking about jon’s curls

[zarara]

something else?

pairings: dense!diluc x traveler!reader, a little kaeya x reader moment plot: read it and find out (pls my brain is laggy but one day i will write a summary) genre: fluff, angst perhaps note: i am apparently capable of writing fairly straightforward stories

if there was anything in the world you would pay to have an endless supply of, it would have to be tea… though the idea of infinite mora sounded as interesting, you were sure your talents in combat would make sure you didn’t find yourself broke or clueless like zhongli.

it’s just that tea was perfect — coffee was a close contender but the bitter aftertaste always found you having to pile it up with more sugar than healthy. tea also had no aftermath on your already deranged sleep schedule. it tasted sweet but rich, it was efficient, and it was warm.

you usually enjoyed your daily cup of tea in the solitude of your chambers but today you were making an exception because kaeya, your superior and over-the-top flirt of a friend, insisted you take your evening snack with him at the tavern.

“there isn’t even a snack provision at the tavern! it’s a tavern for archon’s sake!” kaeya is great at ignoring your complaints as he pulls you into the seat next to him.

“i asked sara to bring some honey roast over for us,” kaeya winks at the young man handling the counter in lieu of an order and you hurriedly pipe up a “tea for me please!”

“now, would you please stop your whining, you baby?”

your mouth drops open, “i’m the baby? you were the one begging to take me to drinks instead of helping me finish that pack of hilichurls!”

“i did mention that i got rid of that abyss mage for you when you weren’t looking.”

“i don’t understand you, kaeya,” you take hold of the cup that the man behind the counter sets down, “but anyway, what is it you want from me?”

kaeya smirks over his glass of dandelion wine, “ah, quite straightforward, aren’t we?”

you kick his shin ungently, “let me ask again: what do you want?”

kaeya takes a sip and becomes uncharacteristically quiet. in fact, he doesn’t even comment when you keep staring at him.

“kaeya…?”

before you can continue to investigate what’s up with him, you hear a familiar voice behind your shoulder.

“well, what have we here?”

“diluc!” the red haired man takes place of the young man who looks relieved to not have to bear witness as a bartender.

“hello, y/n, how do you do?”

you smile, the warmth in diluc’s voice going unmissed, “i’m just fine, although a certain someone has taken it upon themselves to ruin my ritual of tea and silence.”

kaeya props a hand around your shoulders, “i’m just repaying you for getting rid of all those gnarly hilichurls.”

whatever was bothering kaeya a moment ago seems to have disappeared, especially in the presence of his arch rival, diluc.

diluc calmly reaches over to lift kaeya’s hand off your shoulder as if it’s the corpse of a slime he’s picking up and hurls it away. “please, kaeya, i thought you didn’t pursue women who’d clearly expressed their lack of interest.”

“and i thought you were too superior to everyone else to stick your nose in their business.”

“well,” you butt in before the two can actually slit each other’s throats, “i thought it was reasonable to agree to work under jean but i guess we all have things we��re wrong about, don’t we?”

diluc’s expression dampens into something like sadness when you mention your overworked state but you brush it off by chugging the rest of your tea. “oh, before i forget,” you rummage through your meagre backpack before removing a package, handing it over to kaeya, “this is for you.”

kaeya looks perplexed, looking between you and diluc, and slowly places a hand on the package, “for me?”

“a client painted the scenery from luhua for me because i found his paintbrushes and supplies, and i know you like your souvenirs, so you can have it.”

“....” kaeya is still speechless and diluc has you pinned with a look of suspicion.

“but why would give it to him?”

“because i go to luhua way too often already and i know kaeya is usually stuck around monstadt so…”

“that’s incredibly sweet of you, my love,” kaeya regains his senses and as you stand up to leave, he pulls you into a hug.

“you’re welcome, boss,” you smile as you pull away, “anyway, i must be on my way.”

“do you think the traveller is with someone?”

maids at dawn winery sure do love to gossip.

“with her looks and strength, for sure! my bets are on master diluc.”

okay, look, you didn’t meant to eavesdrop on them but they were right there when you came out of the washroom. you were going to walk out and pretend like you hadn’t heard them but hearing diluc’s name shook you.

“no,, what about mr kaeya? i heard they hang out after long, tiring quests all the time.”

“but she and master diluc love to discuss-”

all righty, time to evacuate.

“!!”

you manage to keep a poker face as you throw the door open in their faces and stride past them, making your way to the room with diluc.

you quickly dash in, closing the door behind you. you knOW your face is flushed so you turn away from diluc.

diluc frowns. that’s weird. why are you hiding from him?

he rises from his chair, “y/n? is everything okay? are you hurt?”

“y-yeah, i’m just embarrassed.”

you feel yourself being turned around by two big hands on your elbows.

diluc’s concerned eyes meet yours and you almost melt into a puddle of slimy plasma because he’s so hot even though he’s just worried.

“you’re red. why are you red?”

“...i’m fine.”

as if he’s aware of your flustered state, he moves closer to your face in order to look into your eyes which makes a new batch of blood flow to your face.

“y/n, you need to tell me what’s wrong. is it a fever? i can call—”

“nO! it’s nothing. just—!” you break away from his (very intense) hold and move away into the room for fresh air. “stupid me.”

“no way, she did not!”

diluc is immensely frustrated with venti. he has the most unusual reactions to everything diluc says and usually he doesn’t give a shit, but this is about you and your weird state yesterday, so yES he gives a shit!! >:-(

“yes, she did. i’m telling you she did. why are you—”

“oh, i heard you, i just can’t believe that the calm and strong little traveler would lose her cool and around you of all people!”

“heY, what do you mean? i’m perfectly fine as a person to lose one’s cool around.”

yep, diluc has no idea what he’s saying.

it’s just

he thinks the world of you

he really, really likes spending time with you (even when you guys are just talking about the fatui’s next move! or how you found new cool ways to take down an abyss mage!)

you’re so sweet and you don’t take his words for what they’re not. you’re not taken aback by his bluntness and you’re able to make him laugh.

what more does he need in life

well, apparently, venti because he has no idea what to do after you suddenly left the dawn winery that day.

“ugh”

“you’re really worried, huh?”

“was that not crystal clear by now? i came all the way to windrise to talk to you!”

venti chuckles his annoying chuckle

“okay, okay, i’ll help you,” diluc sighs as he waits venti to go on, “here’s what i think: she likes you back.”

..

what

diluc.exe has stopped working

man just blanks out

short-circuits, fireworks, malfunction — you name it.

“diluc?”

“no.”

“what do you mean, no?”

“first of all, why did you say ‘likes you back’? i- i don’t like her or anything. and secondly, no, she does not like me.”

“i’m going to pretend like i didn’t even hear the first part. about the second thing, here’s a question for you: why?”

“because she likes kaeya!”

venti pauses, “i was not aware there was another contender. diluc, you bastard, tell me all the details next time.”

“does this mean she just hates my guts?”

“no, it just means she may or may not like you. back.”

“i told you—!” venti stands up breaking off diluc’s sentence midway, brushing grass off his palms.

“take her to dinner or something tonight and ask her.”

“ask her? ask her what— wait, where are you going, you stupid bard— ASK HER WHAT?”

life is hard for a traveller

you’ve just managed to finish delivering grilled fish to a jack who wants become more manly when katheryne sets you thREE more commissions saying there was a crazy influx of requests suddenly.

you barely manage to uproot two hilichurl camps, and by the third quest, you’re quite dead inside. if only some rogue eye of the storm wasn’t terrorizing civilians.

you’ve gotten in a hit or two in when you skip over a stone and fall right on your face

“fUCK!”

shit

ouch

ouch shit

that hurt

you manage to twist around and keep the eye away with a half-earnest windblade attack and try to sit up.

damn it, is this the pitiful way you die? dammit, you at least wanted to drink your evening tea—

a flash of fiery thunder catches your attention

is that…?

“y/n! stay where you are!”

yup, it’s diluc in all his dark knight hero glory. he finishes off the stupid green eyeball in less than three fire-charged strikes.

you sigh in relief, falling back against the grass.

“hey, hey, hey,” diluc enters your field of vision, red strands falling into his face as he leans down to cradle your head in his lean arms, “where did you injure yourself?”

you tremble a little as you try to lift your foot, “a-ah, my right foot. i twisted my ankle probably. thanks for fi—”

“shh-shh, you’ll have plenty of time to thank me. come on, can you sit up?”

you grab his wrist and prop yourself against his chest so that you’re practically in his lap.

“that’s great, let me take a look at—”

“mhm!! don’t move. please,” you can feel diluc’s breathing tense behind you as you lean into him, “i think the eye hit me while i was down- my neck— ah, fuck—” your hand comes away from your nape soaked in red, “it’s bleeding.”

“it’s all right, you’ll be just fine. just get comfortable and i’m going to lift you up. think you can manage?”

you nod as one of diluc’s hands comes to rest under your knees, folding them and the other tenderly embraces your upper back.

“tell me if it hurts too much.”

he heaves the both of you up and the shock stings your exposed neck a little but you’ll survive.

everything is beginning to become blurry so you lift your hand to feel diluc and meet his chest. despite everything, you smile, aware he’s speaking because you can feel him vibrating but the words are all mushed up and you can feel yourself slipping away.

even though usually you would panic at feeling your consciousness fading but right now, it’s okay because it’s diluc who’s holding you and you know it’s him because just before the black collapses on you, you hear him.

“you’re fine, kitten.”

“—up! y/n, it’s me.”

mhhm, what a sweet voice. so soft and melodious.

“y/n, i can see you smiling in your sleep,” the voice comes closer, “come on, everyone’s really worried.”

the world materializes in front of you as you fight against the closing of your heavy eyelids. “barbara?”

“y/n! you’re alive!”

“i am?”

why would you not be alive?

…

oh

right

the eye

stupid thing

wait a minute,.,.,.

you remember diluc saving your arse.

oh righT

that’s because he did!

he—

he was holding you?

you were in his lap????????

wait a minute!! that sounds wrong

“am i dreaming?”

“really, of all the people you know, do you really see yourself dreaming of me, traveller? last time i saw you, you wanted to steal the holy lyre from—”

“y/n!!”

holy shit

that’s the voice of your saviour

noo

noo

stop the clock

you’re not ready to meet him!!!!!!!

“ah, it’s master diluc! he was so worried about you the whole time you were dead— i mean, asleep,” you redden as the tall man appears in front of you, “kaeya had to force him to leave and get some food but—”

“ahem!” diluc cuts barbara off with a strong clearing of his throat and she throws him a look before standing up from your side.

“i guess i’ll leave you two alone then!”

“wait, barbara, you should stay—”

and she’s gone.

you slowly look up to face diluc

“how are you feeling?”

“much better,” he sits next to you and you smile, “thanks to you.”

diluc frowns as if remembering something unpleasant, “i really wish you wouldn’t just bear all the load.”

“you found out from…”

“kaeya mentioned he hadn’t seen you around the town square as he usually does and when i went to speak with katheryne, she said she’d had no choice but to send you off on extra commissions.”

you look down, “i’m sorry. i wanted to ask someone to come along but everyone seemed busy and—”

“you never checked up on me though,” you bite your lip, “i would have known.”

“that’s- that’s because you’re always busy, what with the winery and your dark knight—”

“y/n,” you stop speaking with a pout and diluc raises your chin with his finger, “promise me you’ll tell someone next time things get so overwhelming. tell me, i’m never going to be occupied enough to not help you out.”

you blush agaiN

stupid kind diluc

“thanks, diluc.”

“and you can stop feeling sorry for me.”

when you look at diluc he looks he’s just caught you red-handed.

“what—”

“i wanted to help you,” you nod, “what’s more, i think i quite enjoyed it.”

“enjoyed. . . carrying an injured woman to safety? you might have a saviour complex, diluc. or perhaps, some sort of a kink.”

you expect diluc to lash back with a defensive retort but to your absolute and complete surprise, he smirks.

the man smiRKS

he’s all ;)

“oh? i won’t deny that,” your stomach suddenly feels queasy all over again as diluc inches closer (and you’re wondering in your head WHEN DID SATAN, OR WORSE KAEYA, POSSESS THIS MAN?!), “but while we’re on the topic of kinks and enjoying ourselves, you seemed to quite like sitting in my lap.”

“diluc!” your exclamation is one of disbelief because you cannot believe that diluc, the man who has never once made an inappropriate joke around you, is openly accepting that he has a kink and is accusing you of having one.

“what? am i wrong? when i tried to move, you stopped me immediately.”

“y-yeah, i did, but—” you’re trying with all your heart to defend your actions but diluc has managed to come close enough to tap his fingers against your outstretched knee. “it was— you were warm and my neCK was bleeding. was i supposed to just die out there?”

“i suppose you’re right, i am warm.”

“exactly.”

you seemed to have dodged a disaster because diluc is distracted by the cuts on your knee and the bandage around your ankle. his slender finger dance down your shin to touch the fabric of the white material tied tightly and he gently holds it.

“does it still hurt?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried walking.”

“do you wanna?”

you nod eagerly and diluc offers his hand but before you can be tempted into taking it, you cross your arms.

“why should i hold your hand?”

“because we need to first test if you can even walk without help.” diluc looks confused and you decide that whatever demon possessed him moments ago is long gone.

“correct answer,” you take his hand, and slowly stand up.

“hmm,” your right foot hurts a little but it’s better than you imagined. you tell diluc that.

“that’s a relief,” you reach the door of the empty cathedral and diluc puts his hand on the door, “would you like to take a walk?”

“is diluc around?”

“ah, he said he’ll be back in five. he’s personally delivering some paperwork to the acting headmaster.”

“alright, thanks!”

you’re excited!! it’s friday and today, you and diluc are going aLL the way to liyue to get dinner and stargaze as a post-dinner activity. diluc said he was friends with xiangling who’d always wanted him to come and try her dishes out sometime and he’d asked you earlier if you’d be interested to join him.

of course you were. it sounded like a date! in fact by the way you had spent all afternoon choosing the deep maroon skirt and contrasting white blouse, you were convinced to view it as a date.

“y/n, i apologize to have kept you waiting,” a breathless (and dashing) diluc appears by your side and you smile.

“no problem, diluc, i heard you were doing some important work.”

the both of you leave the tavern, “not exactly important, but let’s just say that while i may not be interested in the knights of favonius, i do value my life somewhat.”

“jean’s scares you, too, huh,” you laugh.

it’s not like diluc is realizing this for the first time but: you’re beautiful

like yeah, you have great hair and dazzling eyes that are bright when you’re happy and a dangerous smile but in the night, in this ethereal lighting, you’re taking his breath away.

“this place looks so fancy,” you’re seated across from him as you play with the ends of your hair. “when i come to this inn, i usually remain on the periphery but wow, this is quite impressive.”

“well, xiangling did say she got pretty famous as a cook around here.” diluc feels dazed especially since half his attention is occupied by how adorable you look.

the night progresses like this; diluc captivated by your blinding beauty and you trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re on a daTE with diluc.

“oh, hey, look, it’s a silk flower!” you run over to the short, maroon plant, plucking a few flowers out, “xingqiu was telling me how much he loves these.”

he kneels next to you, smiling, “they are quite the pleasant plants.”

“they sorta remind me of you.”

“me?”

diluc touches the stem as you play around with the buds, “yes. for starters, you’re both red. and you both smell nice. you make wine, these make clothes. and if you think about it, wine is the silk of alcohol.”

his fingers collide against yours in the quaint flower, “that’s an intriguing comparison. wine and silk. . .” before you can pull away, diluc takes hold of your hand, pulling you up after him.

he can feel you stiffen a little and then mold back into place, your tiny hand squeezing against his bigger one. the road has become quieter as you travel further from the inn, and more stars start to peek out from the sky.

“thank you for taking me out to dinner, diluc.”

“thank you for having dinner with me, y/n.”

you suddenly giggle a little as if remembering a memory. “what’s funny?”

you look at him and then back down, biting down on your lip — a terrible habit really but especially terrible right now, because it only draws his attention to the soft pink lips he was trying not to look at the whole night (which was made even harder when xiangling decided to serve you the spicier dishes).

“that time you saved me from the eye, you called me something right before i fainted.”

diluc smiles fondly, “kitten?” he is pleasantly surprised when you giggle again, cheeks tinting the loveliest pink. “what’s this? could it be you enjoy being called kitten?”

you squeeze his hand slightly, “maybe…”

diluc’s heart almost gives out on spot

he’s sO whipped for you it hurts physically

“y/n—”

before he can say anything else, you pull him ahead with you because well,,,, you’re embarrassed

“come on, we should go stargaze before it gets too late.”

diluc smiles and allows you to drag him to the clearing at the edge of a cliff.

“i remembered this cliff from one of my adventures,” you plop down onto the grass and hesitantly, diluc follows

“hmm, it’s very peaceful here. i’m going to have to note this down as one of my future hideouts.”

you grin, “don’t reveal that to me. i might end up following you here and you won’t have any of your good ole introspection time.”

your tone is teasing but for once, diluc feels that his needs for alone time are being acknowledged by your light-hearted threat. he shifts closer, heart on the verge of bursting.

“i like you, y/n,” it comes right out of his mouth, clear and loud, the way diluc always dreamed of confessing but never managed to nail during his endless practices

you, on the other hand, are at the risk of a heart attack. you don’t want to pretend to be clueless and dense — diluc did ask you out for dinner when he could be spending the evening doing something more intellectually enriching — but at the same time, you feel like you can’t be sure enough

because it’s diluc!! he’s so complicated, he has so many layers

“you like me?” you keep your gazed fixed on the stars above just so you can mask your disappointment in case he clarifies that he likes you but, of course, as a friend who easily gets in trouble and happens to be around his tavern all the time

but inside diluc’s head are alarms. literal ALARMS. red, blaring alarms.

“i- you have no obligation to accept my feelings or give me answer but i’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now. i really like you in a way i didn’t think possible. you’re so kind and funny and you make profound judgements about people, without being swayed by the biases that surround them and you’re so brave. but i know you have many men courting you and you did seem to have a soft spot for kaeya so this is—”

“i like you, too, diluc.”

diluc.exe has stopped working part 2 the finale

no more brain cells for him

“diluc?”

“you’re being honest?”

“of course i am. i’ve liked you ever since you took down that abyss mage with me. i don’t know how i’m expected to not fall for the dark knight hero.”

despite his dislike for the nickname, diluc blushes and you laugh at his small adorable smile

but the next moment it’s as if a switch has been flipped and suddenly his flustered face turns into a look of lust

his hands are on your waist, pulling you close until you can feel his hot breath against your lips

your hand comes up his face, tenderly cupping it and your lips crash

diluc groans against your lips when your other hand gingerly finds his hair and to say the least, you are extremely attracted to the sound of him groaning, low and deep

“come closer,” your plea is almost petulant as your grip on his hair tightens. diluc lifts you into his lap, arms around you

but he suddenly pulls away and it kills him to do so because you are a sight to behold, lips redder than ever, mouth half open, and breath heavy

“what in the fuck—” your dismay is clear as you frown at the concerned expression on diluc’s face, “hey, what’s wrong? did i—”

“why did you give kaeya that gift?”

for a moment you think you must be dreaming because it would be absolutely ridiculous if the man stopped your make-out session just to ask you—

“i mean, why not… me?” diluc’s voice has become small, gaze averted as if he’s scared he messed up

you sigh, bringing both your hands to cup his face, squishing his cheeks slightly to make him look at you

“listen, diluc, i have no feelings for kaeya. he’s just one of my nicer superiors and i wanted to thank him for being understanding. and i meant what i said that day — it genuinely reminded me of how he’s stuck around the favonius headquarters.”

diluc processes what you have to say and then, after a few silent beats:

“he’s only nice to you because he’s into you.”

“diluc, will you please just make out with me?”

you pull him back into a kiss and this time, he returns with more passion, one hand boldly cupping your ass and you can’t help but shiver at the sensation of his warm hand

you begin to reach under his shirt when you realize something

“wait, diluc,” you sit up, twisting to look up at the sky, “we were supposed to stargaze. you seemed so excited about it, you even called it the post-dinner activity.”

diluc caresses your arm as he slowly restores the distance between you, eyes on your lips.

he whispers against the nape of your neck, “i’m sure we can think of another post-dinner activity,” his fingers graze your stomach, “right, kitten?”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist

Alternative ending with Bucky>>

Alternative ending with Loki>>

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: angst, incarceration, jealousy, alcohol, minor cursing.

5

Loki felt alone. In solitude, he thought of you more often than he would've liked to recognize. Magic was of no use for him to leave, but he was still able to conjure a few things. He kept going back to that picture you had hung on your apartment, hoping you'd be back and notice the picture was gone. Hoping you'd ask more questions to Thor, enough for him to lose his mind and tell you everything.

That picture took him back to the beach it was taken in. He remembers that moment so well, it's imprinted on his brain, tattooed so it'd never leave him. It was in one of the first missions you two went together.

He was in denial. He didn't want to be your friend, much less get close. You tried, you tried a lot, in different ways. You got him things that reminded you of him from other missions. You teased him, trying to match his sarcasm. You listened to him if he wanted to talk. He had started to care for you but he was still taken aback with all of those… feelings, he was cultivating. Mere seeds you were growing in his dried garden of a heart.

The mountain excursion was not a one-time thing. You did that with almost every mission, periodically searching for moments to steal and roam around the place. In that exact mission, you stole some nights on a nearby beach.

You went alone every night, and came back refreshed. Hair wet, shoes leaving a trail of sand through the hotel room, your blankets always uncomfortably sandy. Loki stayed in his bed, two individuals, reading the whole time. He didn't fall asleep until you were back. It was a dangerous place, and you left at night, after all. It was the least he could do, he thought with a sour taste on his tongue, like admitting he cared made him disgusted.

The second night you came with a handful of colorful and pointy shells, each one different from the other, picked carefully and thoughtfully. Most of them shined, or had golden lines, which very obviously reminded you of your asgardian roommate.

"They're for you", you stated excitedly, leaving them at his nightstand.

He remembers he scoffed and, without taking his eyes off the book, he said something among the lines of "you shouldn't bother being childish with me".

You didn't get mad over it. You were used to him being cold, at that time, where you were alright sharing a room and talking but he wouldn't actually talk. He was reserved, you'd say. You had a liking for quiet people, despite your explosive and loud self.

You kept the shells to yourself and didn't bring them up again. Except, the night that followed, you came back with more shells. Leaving them at his night stand, you didn't say anything and got your things ready to shower. He didn't take his eyes off the book and started saying,

"Again with that? I told you…", but as soon as he watched them, he went silent. You smirked.

"For Your non-childish Highness".

The shells were all black. All picked with especial detail to be the most pure form of black you could possibly find.

He still has those. Somewhere in the apartment he's not allowed to step into.

The last night of that mission, he joined you. You didn't even need to ask him, he just proposed to walk by your side to take some fresh air and stretch before bed. You walked around the beach, and even convinced him to dip his feet on the sea. If you would've been closer at the time, he was sure you'd thrown him fully clothed to the water.

That night he realized he could possibly care a lot more for you than he had initially thought.

He sighed, staring at the picture from his cell. Nobody was around yet. Too early —or too late. He missed you. He thought of leaving a note, and he even wrote it down many times. He is not so sure they got to you. It was part of the punishment and he had to be constantly reminded he couldn't be with you anymore.

He missed you so, so much.

"I'm so, so done with you!!", you yelled to the God of Thunder sitting across the room, just by the long bar of Stark's Tower. "You lying piece of shit, you damned…".

Thor flinched, and then frowned. It wasn't usual for you to lose your temper, much less to him. Bucky and Steve quickly grabbed you by the shoulders and told you to calm down in between whispers.

"Stark, get them a lemonade", hurried Steve.

"No, no. I want to watch this unfold", he laughed and Bucky gave him a dead glare.

"They's too drunk. This is unfair", he said, and Tony sighed.

"They doesn't get drunk".

"Damn fucking well I'm not. Get away from me, I'm trying to talk to this silent asshole over there. Come here, you fucking dipshit", you got rid of their grip and almost jumped to Thor's side.

"Very well, tiny avenger. What would you want…", he began, cheeks red from his own asgardian-sized drink.

"It's been an entire month and a week. Tell me everything you're not telling me", you demanded. He laughed obnoxiously. Loki, watching from the cell through the sphere, boiled in rage.

"Loki… is not worth your time, mortal. You should just get together with sergeant Barnes already", he spat like it was the obvious thing that should happen. Loki decided he'd stab him six—no, seven times as soon as he got to see him, with his sharpest and longest dagger.

"What on Earth do you mean by that?!".

"Calm, calm. The thing is, to save you some more pain, get over him because he's not coming back".

"What have you all done to him? I'll go get him myself".

"Don't be so imprudent. He's not coming back to you, that's for sure".

You insisted. And insisted. And Thor didn't wish his brother to look bad in your eyes, but in his opinion… he looked for it.

Thor was still extremely upset at Loki for going to Jötunheim looking for a throne he very obviously did not deserve, and then had the guts to call himself a rational man. Thor had been reprimanded by Loki himself as a careless oaf for waging war between realms a few years ago, but Loki had just done that —except he was even thirstier for power, and had more to lose.

To Thor, Loki looked for it, and you shouldn't suffer because of it.

So, he decided to lie. To save you some pain, and probably out of pity too.

"My brother took the chance and went for Jötunheim's throne", he said, and you scoffed.

"I knew that. I don't know why he isn't…", you began, and stopped as Thor raised his eyebrows. "I knew he did it after, okay? It's not like I could actually stop him. Now tell me what's next. Why hasn't he come home?".

"He… he got the same answer, that he needed the possibility of leaving an heir, so he…".

Loki watched with extreme attention. Thor wasn't going to actually say something like that, right? He knew his brother was upset, but… he wouldn't, right?

"So he what, Thor?".

"He just married a Jötun woman. She's with child. He has no intentions of coming back ever again".

Loki laughed, incredulous. You wouldn't believe that, would you? His heart was beating so fast he felt it burst open.

"He what? No, no. He didn't, you're lying".

"He did. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner".

"No… it's not true. It's not. He loves me, and I love him".

"He loves the throne even more".

You had to sit on the floor. Bucky ran to your side and you broke down in his arms. You cried so loud, Loki's chest felt like blowing up for sure this time.

He summoned an energy blast that broke every single furniture on his cell, accompanied with a scream that he was sure you would've heard from there if his cell wasn't silenced with blocking spells. He couldn't keep his anger for himself anymore.

He forgave Thor for many things. But now… He will never, ever in the almost four millennials they have left to live, forgive Thor for that.

On the roof of the compound, the sunsets were better, you always said.

You laid your back against the tiles and watched the sun with puffy eyes from last night. Loki was watching you with the half-broken sphere, and, lost in thought —much like you— didn't seem to notice James getting on the roof too. He rubbed your back comfortingly and you greeted him with a sad smile.

"Hey", he said. He spoke like you'd break down again. "How are you feeling?".

"I'm sorry about yesterday", you hurried. "I was very drunk. I don't have filters and get all intense and emotional when I drink too much".

"Don't apologize, you were right to feel that way. Loki's an asshole".

Both you and Loki flinched at that. Loki, because the damn soldier was right. To your eyes, Loki was now an asshole.

"I don't feel like I should believe Thor", you mumbled. "But Thor has never lied to me".

"It sounds crazy, I know… you were such a couple. I don't think I've ever seen that guy smile if it wasn't with you", he said, and placed a hand over yours. You let him. Loki sighed.

"I just… I can't imagine him being like that. I know he's done bad things in the past. I know his whole history with betrayal. But he's different now. I want to believe he's changed".

"Because of you?", Bucky raised his eyebrows, and you chuckled in embarrassment, nodding and putting your lips in a tight line. "Don't get me wrong, you're great. You're… wonderful. But…".

"But nothing is the direct cause of someone changing. I know. I didn't mean to sound so egocentric".

"I know. But I meant it when I said you're wonderful. That's what I've been saying all this time. You don't deserve to be stepped on like this".

Loki could feel his heartbeat race. He knew what followed now. You'd soon forget him and fall in love with the sexy supersoldier that held your hand and complimented you and treated you like the world you were, because Loki wasn't there and Loki hurt you enough to be vulnerable to everyone's eyes.

Loki was sure you hated him now.

"It's just that… I love him so much, I feel my heart shrink a little each day".

Bucky sighed, and hugged you with only one arm —the warm one. You put your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart. I promise".

Loki stopped keeping count of how long he's been locked up. Between the time differences in Asgard and Midgard, and the fact that he had no other way to tell than to scratching a fucking wall every day, he's not so sure how long it's been.

He doesn't have the sphere anymore. He hasn't had it for a long time, now. It felt long. He isn't sure how long. His mother found it missing and went to him. His mother wasn't upset. She knew why he took it. Why he needed it.

Loki isn't sure if it's been a few months, a year or if you're already buried deep inside a grave. He shudders and flinches at the thought. But it would've happened with or without him. After all, you're a mortal. Or were.

"Loki, my son", called Frigga. He was still laying on the bed, staring at the roof. She was carrying a handful of books.

He looked up and scanned her. She was dressed up.

"The Ball", he stated, and his heart weighed even more. The Ball happened, for Earth's chronology, every ten years. He now knows, he's been locked up for five. "I assume you're planning on keeping me here for at least another… three days", he said, looking at the books.

"Loki", she warned. How could he sass her even in his current position? She thought.

"That's all you've been saying. You come here, and look at me disappointedly, and call my name with its various pet names. I beg you to stop pretending you don't know what to say. If you're biting your tongue, free it, or bite it enough to draw blood".

"It's already bleeding, Loki", she frowned, tossing his books through the walls of the cell. "I have many things I'd like to say to you. I don't think it's wise anymore".

"When am I getting out?".

"You're not getting out any time soon, son".

"I know that. I'm asking when exactly. A decade? A hundred? A millenia?", she sighed, and Loki raised his voice, "TELL ME!!".

Loki hadn't had enough time. If he were to ever see you again, he had to get out right now. And even then he was sure you'd never receive him back again.

"Now, watch your tone, boy".

Loki growled animalistically, and tossed himself back to bed.

"Leave".

His mother left. She came back a few weeks later, only to find an empty cell.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds, @vicmc624 )

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

The Hoodie Problem

A wardrobe mistake costs you and Henry the privacy of your relationship. 

-

           “No,” you groaned as your heard the dreaded chiming of the Alexa alarm. “No, no, no, turn it off!”

           “You have to say its name, dearie,” a tired Henry grumbled in response. You could feel him pull you tighter, deeper into his warm arms. “Alexa, stop the alarm.” The alarm stopped right after.

           “It’s currently 6:20 AM. The weather in London, England, is currently 6 degrees Celsius and will be sunny for the rest of the day. There are no unread emails for your .edu or gmail.com account. One package, containing 3 makeup brushes and dog treats will be arriving to 102…’

           “Will she shut up?” You groaned in response, turning back into Henry’s warm body. The room was freezing cold, and the dog had already gotten off the bed.

           “I don’t think she’s done yet.” In a single second, the opening riff of Back in Black started playing. “Alright, love, you actually need to go.”

           “No,” you grumbled. “Fuck class, I don’t wanna go to class. I hate it anyway, and I don’t wanna sit there and listen to my history professor talk about an asshole and defend his work when it’s already shit anyway.” Henry chuckled, sending another wave of heat through your body, making you want to stay even more.

           “You won’t get to argue your vulgar point if you’re late.” You sighed and started to sit up, yelling at Alexa to stop playing music. “Go, darling, otherwise I won’t get out of bed either.”

           “You’re such an asshole in the morning,” you responded, wrestling yourself onto the floor. A gigantic ball of fluff followed you, expecting his breakfast. “Can I borrow a hoodie? Left mine in the laundry.”

           “Which you only did so you can borrow one of mine. They should all be clean, just find one that can cover the bruises on your neck.” You sighed, spying a hoodie from a charity Rugby match Henry had done the month before, and after slapping deodorant onto your under-arms you pulled it on over her sports bra. You hoped it would be enough. Quite honestly, you didn’t care who saw the hickies on your neck. Anyone who was going to see was an adult who should act like an adult about it. Your hair would have to do since it wasn’t too greasy, and after deciding just to leave it down, you finished up in Henry’s adjoining bathroom and walked back to the bedroom.

           “Covered?” You asked.

           “Yep. Leave me your keys, take the Merc, and I’ll pick it up from the shop after my workout, I want them to check the paint on the hood, too.” He looked you up and down, sitting up in bed as you walked over to give him a kiss.

           “Thanks, babe.”

           “You look beautiful,” he responded with a smile.

           “I do not.”

           “You do!” Without bothering to look at the back of the sweatshirt, Henry got out of bed and went into the bathroom. You yawned as the massive dog zoomed down the stairs, waiting for breakfast. Kal sniffed around as you set foot on the stair landing, probably wondering why your vanilla perfume was mixed with the scent of Henry’s strong aftershave. Truth be told, you were glad. It was a comforting smell.

           “Be a good boy, Kal, Papa’s gonna feed you in a minute.” The dog panted in excitement and went to go stand by his water bowl, where he would inevitably drool for the rest of the time until Henry came to feed him. You placed your things from the dining room table, your makeshift desk, into your backpack, refilled your water bottle, and took a few seconds to exchange your keys with Henry’s keys. With another glance around the house, making sure you didn’t leave any chargers behind, you walked out the front door and began to adjust Henry’s car to fit your height. You felt like something was off, but you couldn’t describe it. Instead you went to go get your coffee and find a place to park before your frightfully early class.

           “You look knackered,” a voice said behind you as you finally climbed out of the car an hour and a half later. It wasn’t the first time you’d borrowed one of Henry’s cars, but at least it was the humblest of the three he had. The McLaren wasn’t something he even trusted himself to drive sometimes, he’d finally gotten rid of the Clio collecting dust at his parents’ house, and the Aston was his precious baby you didn’t dare go near. But you were endlessly grateful he let you borrow the Merc. You just wished it wasn’t so flashy. It was ten times flashier than the seven-year-old Hyundai you’d inherited from your mother. Especially in the parking spot right in front of the building ten minutes before class where people could see you getting out of it. The voice who’d spoken was Anna, your best friend, and supposed roommate if you ever came home.

           “Trust me when I say that man needs a new coffee machine, because I’m sick of having to leave the house at seven in the morning to go buy some,” you groaned in response, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. It was heavy as hell, but you were carrying most of your things in it because you didn’t have time to go back to your barely lived-in dorm room. Your other hand held your gigantic coffee, the biggest one you could buy because apparently British people preferred caffeine-free tea in the morning. People called you absolutely crazy for getting cold drinks when it was cold outside, too, but you didn’t care.

           “You realize your neck is completely purple, right? I doubt an espresso machine is the reason you’re so tied.” You scoffed at Anna’s statement. In reality it hadn’t been crazy sex keeping you up for the past few nights – you’d been working so late that Henry came up to you the night before and wouldn’t stop biting at your neck until you agreed to come to bed, hoping it would embarrass you into having better sleeping habits. But sex was a much better story.  

           “Is it really bad?” You asked.

           “No. Not from the front.” Anna started walking backwards up the building’s staircase, opening the door for the two of you. Your classroom was the first one on the left, a massive auditorium, because everyone had to take the History of Wagnerian Opera class for some stupid reason. You took your normal places in the bright room, taking your laptops out onto the desks. You fully expected to have to plug it in, but Henry, the ever helpful boyfriend, had plugged it in when he found it half dead the night before.

           “Had a rough night, did you, Yankee?” Another voice asked behind you. It was Isaac, another student you’d been friends with from the moment you stepped on campus.

           “What on Earth gave you that idea?” You asked as you took a sip of coffee. Isaac leaned closer, looking down at the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hood barely covered the top of the lettering on your back. It read Cavill in white letters, and underneath it was the number 01. It was obviously customized, and well-loved judging by the fading English rose that was the logo for Henry’s favorite team. It was about three sizes too large, too, adding to the evidence that the hoodie didn’t belong to you. Isaac and Anna knew you were dating Henry, but most people had no idea. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, because you weren’t. Henry just wanted to protect you from the craziness that came with dating him, including paparazzi and prying eyes that would try to find their way into every little thing you did with or without him. You hadn’t signed an NDA or anything, but Henry was insistent on protecting you for as long as he could. You were fourteen years younger than him and he loved you dearly and nothing could change that.

           “You do realize that the back of your hoodie says HIS name on it, don’t you?” Isaac said quietly, hoping no one else in the auditorium heard.

           “What?” You asked in response. You could feel your face going red.

           “It says Cavill 01.”

           “Oh, shit.” You couldn’t take it off because the only thing you were wearing underneath it was a thin sports bra, and of course Henry’s car was so spotless on the inside that there was no chance of there being an extra shirt in there. Come to think of it, he’d been lounging around in the sweatshirt the night before. Shit, you thought. How could you miss it? How could you screw up that badly? What if this ruined everything?

           “Oh shit is right,” Anna remarked.

           “Does my hair cover it?” Isaac looked down at your hair. The lecture was about to start, but the thought of maybe losing Henry over a hoodie made you want to sit in the corner and cry.    

           “No. Neither does the hood.” You sank lower into the seat.

           “Maybe people won’t care. Cavill’s a common last name here.”

           “No, not really. And I think they will.” You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest.

           “Just don’t mention it to anybody and wear your bag when you can. Problem solved.”

           “I’ll get you something else later,” Anna cut in. In reality everyone already knew something was up. You had mentioned a few times, offhand, that you had almost moved into your boyfriend’s house and was commuting from Kensington. And you mentioned one day that he was an actor, much less that he was one of the most well-known actors in the entire world. Your phone had his name as Hank, and even though the connection wasn’t immediate, it was still enough to make someone think of the name Henry. Damn the British and their overly common name diminutives.

           “I swear to God, I’ll strangle whoever even thinks about it,” you sighed in response, putting your head down until the professor started class. You didn’t need to take notes quite yet, and pulled up the messages between you and Henry. The last night it was just on my way, got the food! And you are an absolute angel. Drive safe. His name wasn’t completely revealed at the conversation.

           We have a problem. Henry started typing immediately.

           You didn’t crash the car, did you????

           No, but that probably would’ve been better…

           Please explain.

           Promise you won’t get mad?

           What’s wrong???

           I picked up your hoodie from last night and it has your name on the back and it hides my neck but it has your name on it and there’s nothing under it so I can’t take it off and I’m freaking out because you don’t want people to know and I’m sorry, I just screwed up so bad. I’m such an idiot.

           It’s okay. Calm down. You’re not an idiot. You’re an absolute moron and I love you anyway

           I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want anyone to know.

           The only reason I didn’t want anyone to know is because I didn’t want anyone to make you upset because I’m stupidly in love with you and people will try to tell you otherwise. It’ll be okay. If they find out they find out. Don’t worry about it. Really.

           I feel like an idiot now.

           I’m sure you look better in it than I do anyway. Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll see you at home and we’ll figure it out.

           Thank you.

           I love you!!!!

           Love you more dimples.

           You smiled a little, sitting back into your chair and starting to type out notes about the dark undertones within Ride of the Valkyrie. For the rest of class, it was fine. But you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous for your next class. Isaac wasn’t there to back you up, and Anna sat on the other side of the room because you always distracted each other. You were on your own, taking in the scent of Henry’s aftershave that was left on the sweatshirt from the night before. It helped you calm down at least a little, even if the name on the back made you nervous. You sat lower in the chair than usual, but it didn’t stop at least one person knowing.

           “You like Henry Cavill too?” Elizabeth, the most annoying person on Earth (and a completely mediocre pianist with no sense of emotion who only got in because her father works for the royal family), said as she strained to read the sweatshirt on the way to her seat.

           “Yep.” You tried to play it off and wipe out the conversation before it even started. Never before had you wanted to listen to your old white professor rant about other old dead white guys. “He’s a good actor.”

           “I’m, like, so in love with him,” Elizabeth responded. Henry rolled his eyes every single time you said a word about Elizabeth, but you’d never tell her that. “Like, he’s just so dreamy.”

           “Oh, yeah,” you responded without even thinking. “He’s gorgeous.” You didn’t even realize what you said until Elizabeth’s eyes danced with a grin that matched her mouth.

           “You know him?” She exclaimed.

           “I mean, um, yeah, my internship…” you tried to cover, but it definitely didn’t work.

           “Shut up, you know him? Or, oh my gosh, is he the guy you’re dating?” You could tell that all of the color drained from your face and the room suddenly felt hot. You weren’t going to lie about it, but she would also be one of the first few people to know. And it wouldn’t be long before she blabbed her mouth to her followers.

           “I heard he likes younger girls anyway,” Ellen, the girl who sat behind Elizabeth, said. That was the cue for you to realize that everyone else was listening, too, and they couldn’t just mind their business. Your hands shifted uncomfortably inside the pocket of Henry’s sweatshirt. The room was definitely getting warmer.

           “Yeah,” you responded quietly. “We’ve been dating a few months and didn’t want to tell anyone yet. But you figured it out, so congrats.” You swallowed a lump in your throat. On the one hand you were glad that it wasn’t going to be a secret anymore. You didn’t want to hide how much you loved the curly-haired idiot who was too large for his own good.

           “Oh my GOD!” Elizabeth said excitedly. She was a little too loud with it. You just turned back around and pulled out your phone, hands shaking from the anxiety of what Henry had said. He said you were good enough, but what happened when the world was able to judge you?

           Well, Elizabeth figured it out. Not long until she spills to her 22 followers. And then their 22 followers.

           At least I can post that picture you took with me on the beach…

           The ugly one where I almost drowned after? Nooooo please!!!

           Oh that’s not what I was thinking about, but now that you mention it, my fingers might just slip…

           This conversation is DONE, fat Cavill! I swear I’ll punch the dimples right out of you.

           You underestimate me, little one.

           Cavill, this class is an hour long and I swear if I get out and you did something I will make you sleep on your own couch for the next year.

           Guess you’ll just have to fight me when you get home…

           With that, the conversation was over. Most people in the room didn’t seem to notice or care, but Elizabeth and Ellie did. Your friends didn’t for the most part, but you would assume some would turn on you. And you could tell that they were going to do whatever they could to make sure everyone knew that they knew before anyone else. It was strange to think that Henry was being so cool with it, that he wanted there to be a before people knew and an after. You shut your mind off and did your best to focus, even though it wasn’t very well.

           You got up at the end of class and packed your things, ready to brave the library until your next class, but you exited the room and there was someone standing at the entry hallway. Henry. And he was holding another coffee in one hand, and draped on his other arm was a shirt. He’d never been in public with you without some stupid disguise on, much less to bring you coffee in between classes.

           “Henry?” You asked, slightly too loudly. Elizabeth and Ellen turned toward you, but you blew past them to see Henry. He was grinning, from ear to ear.

           “So apparently, according to the internet in the past few minutes I’ve been in the car, I’m cradle robbing. Apparently you’re Instagram-model material, which I could’ve told you,” he said. “I brought you another coffee for dealing with bullshit, and I brought you another shirt in case you want to change.”

           “Can I keep this one?” You asked, looking down at Henry’s that you were still wearing. “And you didn’t post the bad picture of me yet?”

           “No, I was waiting for your approval,” he responded. He reached for his phone and handed it to you, and it was opened to a set of pictures he hadn’t posted yet.

           @henrycavill: The real Mission Impossible is getting her to stay still long enough to take a picture with her favorite old man. To be clear, though; she is MINE and I couldn’t be happier. I will sword-fight ANYONE to defend her honor!!

           It was a series of five pictures, all of them the two of you together, some of them cuter than others, and you just grinned. You couldn’t believe he was okay with everything, and you couldn’t believe that he was actually standing there with you, braving the people in your class just to hand you a coffee and offer you a shirt.

           “I love you,” you said quietly. He smiled in response. “Really.”

           “I love you too. I don’t care who knows.” You laughed and hugged him tightly, even though he was still holding your coffee. “But I do want the Merc back, your car is outside.”

           “Whatever you say, cradle-robber.”

A/N: I’m in an opera history class right now and it’s so frustrating that I’m definitely taking it out here. I hope the person who requests this loves it as much as I did because omg I love this 😭

[xxisxxisxxis]

Shining Star | Part Two

[Axl Rose x OC]

Words: 3.1k

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of suicide

Tag list: @teller258316 @reigns420 @xpoisonousrosesx @oskea93 @blowinmeupwithherlove @redlipscrystalskies14 @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @sublimeprincesswasteland

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

"Pretty as a picture." I say to myself, swiping lipstick across my lips in the bathroom mirror before I click the tube shut and make sure my hair looks good. 

My stomach churns at the thought of seeing Tommy...and Vince. 

I haven't spoken a word to Vince since he got Tami pregnant a year and a half ago, and I haven't spoken to Tommy since he leapt out of my bedroom window after 3 minutes of awkward sex. 

"Do you fuck all of your friends?" My mother's words come back to bite me in the ass as I groan out in frustration. 

The only plus to any of this is that I'll get to hang out with Viv. 

There. Viv. Just focus on Vivian. 

I leave the bathroom and glance around to see if I see any familiar faces. 

Nope. 

I pull the skirt of my dress down a little and rub my lips together, people passing left and right, looking either too drunk to be bothered or too busy. 

"Tansy?" I hear a confused voice and look straight ahead, seeing Vivian by the payphone. 

"Hey!" I reply excitedly, rushing to her as fast as I can, being careful not to trip over my feet adorned in red heels. 

Vivian Sixx—Kinston at that point—had a ballet scholarship to Juilliard, never missed a Sunday church service, and was one of those annoyingly gorgeous girls that genuinely thought they were ugly. She couldn't stand her red hair because she was teased in middle school and called "firecrotch," she hated her freckles and her height because she'd been compared to a giraffe--"tall as shit with brown spots"--and the fact her mom was a batshit crazy Jesus lunatic never helped matters…but that stuff was all in her head because after middle school, guys looked at her differently, Jesus-lover and all. She saw annoying traits, but most people saw legs a mile long, a unique hair color that stood out in the sea of bleach blonde, freckles that framed emerald green eyes, and a heart as kind and beautiful inside as she was on the outside. 

She's always said I was the most gorgeous woman she'd ever met, but she is, to me, the most stunning. 

She didn't have to try to get anybody's attention, she walked in a room and she had it--so much so that Matt Sorum called her "Fire Woman" after The Cult song because he claimed that's the first thing that came to mind when he first saw her walking back stage at his first gig with Guns N' Roses. "She could give me the fucking clap and I'd kiss her feet for it." He told me, his facial expression mimicking someone who'd been struck by lightening twice…

People always looked at her like that but she rarely noticed because she'd be too busy looking up at Nikki with utter hearts in her eyes, but we'll get into that later.

"What are you doing here?" She asks me curiously. 

"Vince called me and wanted me to come." I explain and she raises her brows. 

"Vince?" She asks and I nod. "The same Vince that cheated on you multiple times Freshman year? And your entire relationship?"

"It's been, what, four years?" I ask, in reference to how long it's been since he and I started dating. "Maybe he's grown up a little." I suggest and she just clears her throat, cueing the hollering of an angry girl.

"Fuck you! Piece of shit! Motherfucker!" She shouts, the sound of her hitting Vince gets louder and she stomps down the hall as he follows after her, continuously trying to get her attention by saying "babe" repeatedly. 

"My pants! Babe!" He's fully in sight now as she stomps off...and he's fully naked.

"Fuck you!" She calls back to him, leaving him behind. 

"I fucking love those pants." He whines, disappointed, cupping his dick. 

"Your swimsuit parts are out." Vivian tells him, and he and I make contact over her shoulder, my nerves tensing up anxiously as he looks at me with a grin. 

"Hey, Tans." He says to me, about to come closer but Vivian stops him. 

"Go put some clothes on." She orders to him and he rolls his eyes, turning and walking away, his butt shining as he leaves. "You had sex with that." She reminds me and I frown slightly. 

"Yeah, he hasn't changed a bit has he?" I ask her and she shakes her head a little. 

"He's gotten worse." She states. "Alright, c'mon, let's go see Tommy." She takes my hand and leads me to where he is, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. 

How awkward is this going to be? 

We turn the corner and see him and two other guys standing in their street clothes, and when Tommy sees me, all my nerves dissipate because he completely makes me forget our awkward sex never even happened. 

"Tansy fucking Reilen!" He exclaims excitedly as I walk to him to hug him. 

He leans down to reach my 5'3" height and wraps his arms tightly around me. 

"Hey, Tommy!" I reply, just as happy. 

This is the first time he, Vivian, and I, will be hanging out together...Viv's been having to hangout with us separately because we've been avoiding each other for the most part. I guess we don't have to, anymore. 

He releases me, immediately turning to the ball of teased, jet black hair. 

"This is Nikki," he informs me, "the band's bassist." 

Hazel eyes--nearly green--look down at me behind his hair, traveling down my face, to my chest, down my legs, and back up again, the tiniest, mischievous smirk on his lips, and I raise my brow a tiny bit…

Trouble. Trouble. Trouble. Trouble. Is exactly what Nikki was, and it was all he and I could get ourselves into for years to follow.

"And this is Tansy." Tommy tells Nikki, oblivious to how he's looking at me.

"Nice to meet you." I tell Nikki. 

"Yeah." He replies. 

"And Mick, our guitarist." Tommy says next, nodding to the shorter man who's also got jet black hair. 

"Hi." I say to him. 

He just gives a small smile and mumbles, "hey."

"He's a little quiet but when you get to know him he opens up." Tommy says to me, quietly as Vince reappears with clothes on. "We were about to head to the rainbow," he starts next, his eyes flickering to Viv. "If someone's willing to stay out late." 

"Fine." Vivian doesn't argue, sighing out. 

"Hallelujah. Thank fuckin' God." Vince pipes, sliding his arm around my shoulder, making me roll my eyes. 

The entire time to the Rainbow, Vivian and Nikki are constantly back and forth, tearing each other new assholes and going for each other's throats. I don't know what beef they have with each other but it's brutal and borderline sex fueled. 

Once we get to the bar and grill, I drag Viv to the bathroom with me so I can touch up my makeup. 

"So…" I start, looking in the mirror, "...have you lost your virginity yet?" 

"No." She says it as if she's slightly offended. 

"Oh." 

"Why?" 

"It's just…" I start but quickly decide that it'll just piss her off, probably. "Nothing." 

"Tansy." She sighs, irritated. "What is it?" 

"Nothing. I just thought you and that Nikki guy have messed around." I shrug and she looks like she's seen a ghost. 

"I—ew why would you think that? We haven't." She insists and I hold my hands up in surrender. 

"I'm sorry, I just thought you had." I tell her. 

"What makes you think we have?" 

"There's a tension." The words are framed by a smirk and she widens her eyes. 

"There is not a tension. There is so not a tension." She gets it out without laughing although I can tell she wants to. “We argue. All the time. He thinks I’m a self-righteous prude and I think he’s the spawn of Satan. If there’s a tension, it’s because we hate each other.”

"You don't have to like someone to have sex with them." I inform her, speaking from experience of the guys who've had sex with me without giving a damn, and me having sex with guys I didn't necessarily like just to make them happy. "I really like him for you, though. You get all riled up and firey when he's around." 

"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes. 

“I just met the guy and I can tell he has you acting different. You used to be so quiet and shy around people you don’t really know, now you’re jumping in to conversations just to piss him off and prove him wrong.”

“Because I don’t like him.” She shakes her head. “And he doesn’t like me. That’s where the tension comes from. See? It’s full-circle.”

"Hate-sex is always an option." I suggest. 

"Do not even start." She scolds me, pointing her finger. 

"What? It gets rid of all the aggression and ill feelings." I explain. 

“So does their shows. Did you know they encourage people to get their feelings out during a show so they go home chilled out and not so uptight?” she tells me and I look at her, not even the slightest bit convinced. “And it works.”

“Yeah, until he gets off stage and then you get all hot and bothered.” I reply with a grin. 

“I get hot because he’s Devil-Spawn and the heat from hell radiates off of him and I get bothered because he’s an arrogant idiot.”

“Or you like him and don’t know why you do so you displace your frustration and confusion on to him.” I shoot back. “I was honestly joking about the hate sex okay? I don’t want you to go jump in to bed with him if you don’t want to but you two were fighting like cats and dogs the whole time we were on our way here. I think you should try to let whatever kind of bravery he evokes in you come out in a way that’s not in the form of riled up anger or fiery hatred.” I recommend and she nods a little. “Now, c’mon because I have a slutty blonde waiting.”

That was the night Mötley Crüe was signed to Elektra records by rock-god signing Tom Zutat, who's responsible for record companies grasping ahold of a plethora of leather-patented hair metal douchebags that could make good music and snort their way through long enough power rails of coke that once they reach the end of white powder without flinching, China's on the other side. But you want to know a secret? It was all bullshit. Every person I've met in that rock scene, you know, the ones that despised the term "hair metal" yet teased their hair two feet above their heads and played heavy metal? Yeah, them. Every single one of them had this "I was made for this shit" attitude. 

Some of them nearly put bullets through their head, OD'd, hung themselves, turned their cars on and locked themselves in their garage...even the ones that hadn't purposely tried to take themselves out either almost pushed it too far and died accidentally from too much booze or drugs or vehicle accidents, or did push it too far. 

They weren't made for it. 

Nobody's fucking made for millions of people wanting a piece of them every single night, management running them to their grave for more money, dealers keeping them numb, all their relationships just exploding in their faces, all of their "friends" wanting more and more and more. 

They thought they were made for it because when someone gets a taste of what they decide the universe or God or whoever or whatever destined for them to become, they take it and run with it without reading the fine print. 

They see the fame without the lack of privacy and hangers-on. 

They see the fans without the people who hate their guts and make it known. 

They see the money without the gold diggers. 

They see the excess without the high risk that comes with taking advantage of having everything with the snap of their fingers. 

They see the glutton without the punishment. 

Until they're standing on the railing of the balcony of their Hollywood penthouse, their best friend trying to talk them down while the police are on their way. 

And then of course when they do turn up dead by suicide, people talk their typical, "how awful, they killed themselves in their mansion, surrounded by their expensive furniture, wearing their expensive clothes, with millions—possibly billions—in their bank account, how sad for them, boohoo." 

As someone who's been dirt broke, to the point of getting my water cut off and having to shower at a friend's house, but then growing up to have more money than I knew what to do with aside from blow it on drugs? Money doesn't buy happiness, jerkoffs. It can buy distractions to buffer pain and suffering, sure, but once the high wears off, or that new car loses its luster, or that new house starts to feel fucking empty, all while that wall full of awards and plaques and magazine posters cementing your fame and worth and stake in the industry you sold your soul for just reminds you that you don't even recognize who the hell you are anymore and nothing can change that...you get fucking depressed. Hate to say it. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, that even though you're poor as shit and are depressed as shit that even if you had money and fame you'd still be fucking sad. But I'd rather tell you the truth than sell you the fallacy that me and everybody else I was friends with bought, that landed every single one of us in situations where we felt we had no other way except to just off ourselves all while remembering when we were stupid enough to proudly say: "I was made for this." 

People are made for this like Matthew Trippe replaced Nikki Sixx, which—if you want the truth—is complete bullshit.

“He said we could possibly score a five album deal, Viv, why aren’t you happy about this? I thought you wanted us to get signed?” Tommy asks Vivian as she slings her keys across the guys' shitty living room, pissed beyond measure.

“You just told me you were dropping out of school, Tommy! We are so close to graduating, can’t you just wait?!” 

“No, I can’t! I can’t just wait because what I wanted is happening and I need to focus on the band right now more than ever!” He argues while motioning to Nikki and Vince, who, like me, are being smart and staying near the door incase we need to get out of sight once Vivian and Tommy kill each other.

“Your education should be your main focus, at least until you graduate! You are so close to being done, Tommy, why can’t you just—“

“Because I don’t give a fuck about school, Vivian! What I am passionate about doesn’t require a diploma, and I’m sorry if me dropping out makes you feel like I’m leaving you behind or whatever the fuck you feel, but I’m not sorry for wanting to focus on my main priority!”

“What I’m hearing is that I wasted hours of my time throughout school trying to tutor you and help you all for you to throw it away on the idea of being some hot-shot rockstar with girls and drugs and booze—”

“Oh, my God, you act like you would have had better things to do with that wasted time!” He sounds like he already knows he's gonna lose the argument while Vivian just rolls her jaw. “And it’s not a fucking idea, it’s fucking reality and you’re only mad because you have no control over it!”

“I’m mad because we talked about this and everything we agreed on, everything we promised each other, is absolute void to you now that it’s actually happening!” 

“Shit changes, Viv, people change! What I considered important junior year is completely different than what I consider important now.” He calms down, sighing. 

“We agreed we would both graduate high school and I could either put off college or drop out if I needed to...” she trails off, her voice shaking slightly with oncoming tears, making me feel bad for her. “That was our plan to avoid this from happening. To avoid you leaving me behind.” Now it's crystal clear why she's freaking out over them being offered a record deal. “You considered me important junior year when you came up with that plan. When you promised me you wouldn’t go on to bigger things without me and forget me. And now...” She takes a step back, while Tommy attempts to walk to her. 

“Viv, I didn’t mean it like that.” He tries to tell her. 

“No, you’re right.” she replies, her body shaking a little. “Shit changes.” I raise my brow because I've never heard her curse before. “People change.” She keeps on. “Glad this is happening now, though, so I don’t waste any more time on a completely different page than you, Tommy.” Her voice cracks a little and she grabs her keys quickly.

“Viv—“ Tommy tries to grab her arm as she heads to the door but she snatches away from him. “Fuck you.” she cracks, her voice barely coming out as tears spill over her  lashes. 

Nikki and Vince step aside to let her leave all while I contemplate following her, but if I know Vivian, I know she likes to think about things when she's upset, rather than just talk them out with someone. Which is the only time she likes to be alone. 

She just slams the door on us, and Tommy. 

Most definitely wouldn't be the last time she did that.

"Tommy, are you—"

"—I'm goin' home." He grumbles, grabbing his keys, and me and Nikki and Vince all look at each other. 

"Tommy, you are home?" Nikki reminds him. 

"I'm stayin' with my folks so I can vent to my sister because she's the only one who knows Viv good enough to know she's being fuckin' unreasonable." He states. 

"I barely know her and I can tell you she's unreasonable." Nikki scoffs, earning a glare. "Sorry, man." He mumbles in return. 

"Bye." Tommy says, closing the door behind him. 

"Well...I'm gonna go find a chick to fuck." Vince says, stretching.

"You got one right here." Nikki chuckles looking at me and I raise my brows. 

"Not since I knocked Tami up." Vince reads my mind and I nod. 

"Exactly." I reply. 

"Who?" Nikki asks. 

"Nobody. Don't wait up." He tells us, opening the door and leaving, too, more than likely heading to the strip club down the street. 

"So, like, how old are you?" Nikki asks. 

"Why?" 

He just gets a shit eating grin on his lips. 

[ahtohallan-calling]

trying something new (kristanna fluff/one-shot/rated m to be on the safe side) 

Kristoff grows a beard. His new look grows on Anna.

shoutout to the kristanna discord for encouraging my bearded kristoff love >:)

When he first brought it up, confessing that he’d been thinking about it for a while, Anna wasn’t sold on the idea.

“I don’t know, honey…” she said as they laid in bed together. “I mean…why ruin a good thing?”

“I just want to try it. Besides, I feel like I’m supposed to.”

“What do you mean, supposed to?”

“Well, now that we’ve got two kids, I feel like I’m supposed to look more, y’know…dad-like.”

She laughed and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “They already think you’re perfect the way you are. And so do I. But if you want to try it…”

“If you hate it, I’ll get rid of it right away.”

“I’ll get used to it,” she reassured him. “But let me get one last good look at your face before you go and cover half of it up.”

Kristoff laughed. “We’ve been married for six years, Anna. I think you know what I look like by now.”

She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, letting her thumb caress his jawline. He shivered under her touch, and she leaned in closer, her smile turning wicked. “Do you think it will be harder to kiss you now?”

He slid a hand down her thigh, letting his fingers trace lazy circles against her skin, and was rewarded with a long, slow kiss. He broke away after several moments and murmured, “Oh, definitely. We’d better make the most of the time we have left.”

Anna, evidently, agreed.

—-

“I thought it would be blonder than this,” Anna said, holding his chin delicately between her hands and turning his face from side to side. Kristoff let her, too amused by the serious expression on her face to protest.

“You’ve seen me with stubble before,” he reminded her.

“No, I haven’t! Wait– when?”

“Remember that time we met and then went on the most insane first date of all time? I definitely didn’t remember to shave at all during that whole thing.”

“I was focusing on other things! Like saving the kingdom, remember?”

Kristoff laughed and reached up to gently remove her hands from his face. “And falling in love with me, even though apparently you didn’t take the time to look at me properly…”

He leaned down to kiss her, but just before their lips could meet, he was interrupted by a cry of, “Mama! Papa!”

Little feet came running into the room, squealing with joy, and he reached down just in time to scoop up his son.

“Good morning, buddy,” he said, lifting the toddler onto his lap and pulling him into a hug. In answer came a shriek of protest as Mikkel wriggled away to clamber into Anna’s arms.

“No kiss, Papa,” he said sternly. “You’re scratchy!”

—

“Your majesty, are you listening?”

Kristoff blinked. “Mm? Yes, of course,” he reassured the diplomat, who nodded firmly and resumed his monologue about trade routes between his kingdom and Arendelle. 

He counted himself lucky that he had a reputation for being quiet. Anna, unfortunately, had had a reputation for being a chatterbox since ascending to the throne and was expected to give a response to every inane thing this man was saying. You’re from Weselton, Kristoff thought, hoping his amusement didn’t show. Good luck getting her to agree.

He slid his eyes to try and catch Anna’s attention, hoping he could judge by her expression how well these talks were going, as he certainly hadn’t been listening for at least ten minutes. To his surprise, she was already staring at him, only reluctantly looking away when the diplomat asked her a direct question.

“Arendelle needs more time to decide,” she said in her most regal tone. “Shall we reconvene tomorrow, at your earliest convenience?”

Her voice made it clear there was no point in protesting; the diplomat, knowing getting her to agree on anything involving Weselton was a long shot, bowed his head and quickly made his exit from the meeting room. The moment the door closed, Anna shot out from her seat and settled herself on Kristoff’s lap, flinging her arms around his neck. 

He jumped in surprise, only barely getting his arms around her waist in time to keep her from sliding onto the floor. “Give a man a little warning next time, eh? This dress is heavy.”

She ignored him, instead leaning down to press a languid kiss to his mouth that quickly turned heated. He couldn’t help but moan as her hands tangled in his hair, drawing him even closer. He ran his tongue against her lower lip, and she shivered against him, pulling away with a gasp.

“What’s this all about?” he asked hoarsely, still seeing stars.

“You kept looking at me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like I do….in every meeting?”

“Yes, and it’s driving me crazy.”

She leaned down to kiss him again, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Kristoff responded enthusiastically, reaching for the closures on the back of her dress and sliding it off her shoulders. She pulled away just enough to make it easier for him, and he managed to gasp, “I thought you weren’t sure about the beard?”

“Shut up.”

He did.

—-

“But you can’t get rid of it,” Anna complained, arms crossed. It would have been much more intimidating if she hadn’t still been in her pajamas.

“We’re getting that family portrait made for Mari’s first birthday,” Kristoff countered. “I’ll just shave it off for that, then grow it back out again.”

“Just keep it for the portrait.”

“The one that will hang on the walls of the castle in the royal gallery for the rest of…forever?”

She nodded firmly. “I insist. I’ll do a royal decree if I have to.”

“But then I’ll have to keep it forever.”

“So?”

He laughed. “You seriously like it that much?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “You seriously have to ask?”

He turned and looked in the mirror, running a hand thoughtfully over his beard. Sometimes he missed not having it, wondered if he’d still look as young as he used to if he shaved it all off. Then again, if he still was as young as he used to be, he wouldn’t wake up each morning feeling more loved than he had ever dreamed possible.

Feeling suddenly sentimental, he pulled Anna close to him, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll keep it as long as you like. On one condition.”

“Hmmm?” she murmured, leaning against his chest with a contented sigh.

“You have to be the one to break the news to Olaf that he’s not going to be able to grow one to match.”

[gii-heylittleangel]

Because I Love You!

Summary: Dean hates closed spaces; they're always too small and the walls seem to close upon him. Getting locked in one of them with Cas is also the last thing he wants.

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1592 words

Warnings/Rating: No Warnings/General Audience

Square Filled: Alone Together (@writersofdestiel) & Mutual Pining (@spngenrebingo)

A/N: Hey, peeps! So, this is short and basically just these two idiots in love fighting until they finally confess. I hope you enjoy it! :D

Read it on AO3!

Dean paced around the room for the nth time in only an hour, trying to find whatever opening could be in there, and, like all the times before that, there weren’t any; all the windows were still sealed tightly, there weren’t any doors that Dean could find, and it didn’t seem to be any hidden passageways—there wasn’t anything to move that could hide a passageway. Dean was completely pissed off and he wanted to kick and punch anything he could find. He and Cas had been locked for who knows how fucking long—the freaking monster took their phones and watches, and Dean had thought he couldn’t get more pissed—they had no idea where they were, no idea if Sam would even be able to find them before the monster decided to eat them, and no theories on what monster they were hunting. Needless to say, things were not looking good for them.

Cas, who seemed to want to annoy Dean even more, was sitting by the wall, resting his back against it and keeping his eyes closed, ignoring Dean utter and completely as Dean muttered loudly, punched things, tried to look for a way out, and complained. Cas seemed completely unfazed by their situation, shoulders completely loosened and expression calm, and one could confuse him with a meditating man. It only made Dean even angrier and he wanted to shake Cas to make him wake up to their situation.

Still, Dean walked from one end of the room to the other, muttering obscenities under his breath, hitting his boots against the floor harder than necessary, trying to get any reaction from Cas, because Dean thought he was about to go crazy; he hated being cooed up in one place, the walls were already starting to close upon him, the air thinning, and Dean didn’t know what else to do. He needed to do something or he was sure he was going to snap real soon. 

Dean exhaled hard through his mouth, hitting his hand on the wall next to Cas as he finally stopped, closing his eyes to rest his forehead on the wall. The anxiousness was bubbling inside him, his stomach churning on itself, feeling his legs wobbly, and his breathing quickening. Dean hated feeling like that and he knew he wasn’t going to last long before he got worse and had a panic attack; those were becoming more and more frequent, and a lot easier to be triggered.

A hand was placed on his shoulder out of nowhere and Dean almost jumped out of his skin, hand going for the gun that wasn’t there. Cas raised his hands in surrender, only arching a brow in confusion. Dean relaxed a little and breathed out slowly, rolling his shoulders to get rid of some of the tension. 

“Are you okay, Dean?”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and walking away. “Of course not. We’re trapped in this fucking box, we have no way to get out of here. We’re fucked!” Dean ran his hands through his hair, holding it tightly until it hurt.

Cas’s hand slipped from Dean’s shoulder to cross his arms on his chest. “There’s nothing we can do, Dean. You’ve searched this whole room and found nothing. The only thing we can do is hope Sam will be able to find us.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were stupid enough to go exactly where I told you not to. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t’ve been caught and wouldn’t be in this fucking place!”

Cas scoffed angrily and Dean didn’t need to look at him to know his expression: eyes rolling in disbelief. “I was trying to find a way to escape from the place you brought us. If you hadn’t insisted on coming here, this wouldn’t be happening.”

Dena couldn’t believe it; was he really being blamed for them being caught? “At least I tried to find somewhere the monster could be ‘cause, if we depended on you, we would’ve never even gotten close to it.”

“Oh, because I can never do what you want, right, Dean? Nothing is ever good enough for you, the mister Perfect,” Cas rolled his eyes so hard Dean was afraid they would get stuck like that. “There’s always something wrong to you if it isn’t you that’s doing it.”

“You’re gonna start with this again? For fuck’s sake, Cas.”

Cas scoffed loudly, walking away from Dean—as much as he could in the small space. Dean could hear him still muttering under his breath, back turned at Dean, and Dean couldn’t say he didn’t want to do the same; how dared Cas say it was Dean’s fault they were trapped there? Dean was exactly the one trying to stop them from getting screwed over, trying to get to the monster so they could kill it and stop it from killing more people. 

“You know, if anything,” Dean turned to Cas, one finger pointing at him. “This is your fault, not mine. You were the one that insisted on going to that fucking taco restaurant, not me. I would’ve never seen the street and the bar if it wasn’t for the road we took.”

Cas laughed humourlessly, turning to Dean with cold eyes. “How is that my fault? How was I supposed to know you were going to decide to take us on a suicide mission? I couldn’t have known, Dean. What, are you going to tell me it’s my fault the monster decided to kill the people here, next?”

Dean huffed in annoyance before retorting, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m that stupid.”

And then it went on: their voices only grew louder and angrier, echoing on the small space around them, each trying to throw the blame onto the other for the most idiotic reasons until the conversation changed completely; it was about who had left the dishes unwashed one day, or who used all the hot water on the other, or whose week it was to do groceries and then didn’t. At some point, Dean didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore—but he was sure his own arguments didn’t make sense. Somehow, with no reason that Dean could see, they ended up at the subject hookups; the turns that their conversation had gotten to get there were a mystery to Dean.

“How can I be the bad guy in this situation, Dean?” Cas screamed, pacing through the tiny space he had on his side. “You’re the one that likes to go out and then hook up with anything that moves.”

Dean laughed humourlessly, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh yeah, I certainly do that every-freakin’-time, huh?”

“That’s what I see, most of the time. I don’t even know how you didn’t spend the night in some girl’s apartment that day!”

“Because I freakin’ love you!”

Dean only realized what he had said after the words left his mouth and he couldn’t take them back. He froze up as he stared at Cas at the same time that Cas froze up, staring at him with wide eyes. Neither of them moved for five anxious, long seconds until Cas seemed to blink out of his stupor and crossed the distance between them in one big step, cradling Dean’s face in his hands and pulling him into his arms.

Again Dean was frozen, eyes open wide, arms unmoving by his sides, chest pressed hard against Cas’s, and lips fitting perfectly against Cas’s. But, this time, Dean reacted rather quickly: he closed his eyes, raised his arms to sink his hands onto Cas’s hair, and opened his lips so he could run his tongue on Cas’s lower lip. Cas moaned into the kiss and pressed himself more against Dean, backing them until Dean’s back hit the wall and all he could feel was Cas touching him.

He completely forgot about being locked somewhere unknown, probably hours away from being eaten, with no perspective of being rescued, because all it mattered was Cas being pressed against him, Cas’s lips on his, how great it all felt, and how Dean didn’t want it to ever end. Not even their fight mattered anymore because he had practically forgotten about it; and he was sure it was of no importance anyway.

When Cas pulled away, Dean tried to chase him with his lips, groaning when he didn’t find him. He let his head fall back to the wall behind him, opening his eyes to meet Cas’s close to his, Cas’s breath mixing with his. They stared at each other, Dean’s hand threading through Cas’s hair softly now, Cas’s iron grip on Dean’s hip weaker now, and Dean couldn’t help himself; he chuckled. Cas raised a brow at him, tilting his head slightly.

“We started fighting about whose fault it was that we were trapped here and we ended up like this,” Dean placed a soft kiss on Cas’s lips as an example. Cas smiled. “How?”

Cas shrugged, his thumb running long Dean’s hipbone under the shirt—and Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t send shivers up his spine. “I don’t know but I would say it had a good ending.”

“One hundred percent agreed.” Dean placed one of his hands on Cas’s cheek, feeling the soft stubble that was starting to grow. “How… how long have you been wanting to do this, Cas?”

“A long time, I just never had the courage to.” Cas leaned against his touch, eyes falling closed. “And you?”

Dean smiled, tilting his head until their foreheads touched. “Too damn long.”

[chimswae]

Untold Bonus Part 3

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance, Father!Au

Word Count: 2,324

Author Note: I totally forget to finish update Untold! forgive me ;; This is an old story of mine i think i wrote it in 2017, so please ignore my clicheness and the excessive usage of clicheness~ that makes u cringe haha

You can check full masterlist below :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Part 3

 Although their camel tour ended a little comically, everyone had fun. Hoseok on the other hand was salty the whole day because of the poop incident. As soon as they reached their hotel, Hoseok spent at least two hours in the bathroom alone taking super long bath just to get rid of the smell or whatever he thought it was. He claimed it was to stabilize his mental state after the horrifying event.

 Hoseok could be a little too dramatic sometimes, no one could stop that guy.

 Leaving Hoseok with his delusional thought, others went to get dinner at nearby restaurant and bought takeaways food for him to savor later on. Enjoying the night city view, the stars sparkle in the night sky.

 “I love the city when it shuts down” Jimin whispers.

 Yeoul smiled upon hearing that low and raspy voice of his, so enticing. They both strolled the parks pedestrian pathways following others from behind silently. The streets was empty, there were minimal number of people around and most of them were couples. The emptiness was strange and magnificent.

 “This is perfect” she squished their hand tighter.

In front of them, there were Taehyung with his cameras and his loyal assistant Kim Namjoon, his eyes fixated on his gadgets. These two guys sometimes stopped in the middle of their walk to take good picture and admiring them afterwards. Or ended up bickering over Vante’s photos.

 Maknae and Jin on the other side were busy scanning the city and finding good spots to shop, though there were fewer shops opened past 11. The couple did not give up on whatever they were planning to buy, more like souvenirs.

 Taehwan and Yoongi went back earlier than them since they wanted to catch up their sleep, with that they offered to bring Minyeol together. Poor Minyeol being dragged around by the adults. Not to mention, they still had to feed loner Jung Hobi, that guy must be starving.

 Yeoul and Jimin took their time to enjoy this night stroll exchanging funny stories or stealing glances. Being with Jimin taught Yeoul how to swoon him with a simple flirt and playful kisses. She was taught well.

 “Baby..Let’s ditch them” he tugged on Yeoul arm preventing her to move.

 “Are you crazy? They will flip out” raising her eyebrows with a questionable look, she watched Jimin took his phone typing something in his phone.

 Jimin grinned “Done. I notify them in our Kakaotalk group,so lets go” he pecked her lips, intertwining their hand together. Yeoul could only smile at his randomness and followed him wherever he wished to go. Anywhere with Jimin is everywhere she wanted to be.

 Like a flash the couple disappeared from their vicinity for their own oh-not-so-romantic midnight tour. Jin and Jungkook had so much sense in them that they did not even care when they left unlike someone who insisted of following those two. Another reason how they ended in Morocco anyways, Kim Taehyung really need to stop pursuing different career in his life. The preferred V and Vante for now.

 Please don’t turn him into Varazzi or something.

 ------------------------

 There sitting side by side, two pure soul enjoying each other company under dark sky accompanied by the heat from the bonfire across them. Being drawn by the warmth of their body heat, Yeoul snuggled in Jimin’s embrace smiling as he rested his chin on top of her head.

 The fire glimmered and gleamed, its warmth drawn people in creating an atmosphere for sharing and making memories. As the night grows, they wished to linger around just a little longer in the warmth and contentment around the fire.

 Everything about tonight was perfect.

 “Aren’t you tired?” he was the one who first broke the silence between them.

 Jimin felt Yeoul shifted a little in his embrace and soon he heard she replied “Tired of what? You? That is impossible.. I prefer to cling onto you for the rest of my life” she teased while wrapping her arm around his waist tighter.

 “You cannot be tired of me. My charms are overflowing” he gazed down into her dark orbs. A pair of eyes that never failed to draw him in into this crazy world. World with unspeakable love. World that fills with hope. World that fills with happiness.

 If she were to list down her weakness when it came to Jimin, his gaze would definitely on the list. In fact, that’s her utmost weakness.

 “Aren’t you being a little over confident right now Park Jimin-ssi?” she ran her thumb over his lips, stroking it softly.

 “I don’t mind if it is you I am trying to win over” caressing the back of his hand along Yeoul’s soft cheeks, Jimin closed the gap between them and locking her into a long endearing kiss. A kiss that he wished to give everyday.

 Their lips move just perfectly in sync following their rapid heartbeat. He stroke over her back in a light touch that sent tingles in her heart. Every time their lips touched the spark ignite anew. Yeoul placed her palm upon his chest over his heart and felt it strong steady beat. The kiss deepened as she could feel with every stroke of his tongue latching onto hers.

 They broke the kiss to catch a deep breath “You are irresistible Park Jimin” Yeoul mumbled against his lips.

 “I am sorry. You have to deal with it until death do us part” nuzzling her face, Jimin chuckled softly.

 “I don’t mind” this time Yeoul was the one who initiate their second round. Locking her arm around his neck tight, she pulled him down for another kiss. Who knows a kiss with Jimin can be addicting? Well Yeoul had her whole life to deal with it.

 ----------------------

 It was time to get back to reality. Everyone was physically ready to be back in Korea but not mentally. They will be missing Morocco for sure. Nonetheless, thanks to Kim Taehyung unexpected plan Yeoul and Jimin stays in Morocco was extra fun than they expected. Creating new memories with their loved one especially Bangtan, Taehwan and Minyeol, it was beyond perfect.

 Boarding the plane on time, everyone got into their seat. First class seat as they said, but Jungkook was stuck with Jin for the whole journey, how unfortunate. He liked his hyung but sometimes he’s a little too bubbly for someone at his age. Considering he is in the hyung line, Jungkook felt he had slowly shifted toward the maknae line.

 Welcome aboard Kim Seokjin!

 Even before the plane took off, Jin insisted to sit on the aisle and made Jungkook stay in the middle. They had no idea who would take the window seat but scratch that, he hoped that person wouldnt snore that much.

 Jungkook eyes wandered at the direction of their seat and noticed the window seat was already occupied. He couldn’t get a full view of the person but he’s sure it was a girl. So, he sank in his seat carefully not to startle the girl whom seemed engross with her reading. She had earphone plugged in both of her ears got him less anxious to sit behind a stranger some more a girl.

 The older boy came few minutes later with a triumph grin plastered across his face, more like mocking Jungkook for sitting beside a girl.

 Maknae grunted under his breath feeling unfair as he sent death glare at Jin’s way “If it weren’t for you……” Jin dumbfounded look was even annoying.

 As the plane was ready for take off, Jungkook stole a glance at the girl beside him. He admired her long eyelashes, and her soft fluffy cheeks which again reminded him Jimin’s puffy one. Her fingers were beautiful and those accessories that she wore fitted perfectly around it. He tore his gaze from examining her feature even more like a creep. Jungkook had no idea why was he so nervous when the girl beside him showed no interest to start a conversation even a simple hi.

 You are so stupid Jungkook. He grimaced.

 The first hour of the journey, Jungkook had decided to pay all his attention on the games in his phone. His mind sometimes was too wild and he tended to over thinking too. The girl snapped the book closed as she stifled her yawn, stretching her aching muscle.

 She loved window seat since she had more space for herself and most importantly she didn’t have to deal with strangers on plane. Engaging into unimportant conversation was one thing, but she hated people who snore in the plane.

 Thank god, the two guys beside him seemed normal. She totally forgot to take a glance at the guy beside him and only to realize he’s quite good looking. Not an average look for a man at his age, but his eyes and those visible veins were her weakness.

 Reaching out to her hair, she’s about to tie it into a bun but only to lose grip on her red hairband. It landed just few inch from Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook realized that and put away his phone. He bent down to pick the hairband up but at the same time the girl was already reaching for it. Their head were hitting each other, earning a low gasp from both Jungkook and the girl.

 Jungkook straightened up with a baffle look “I am so sorry” he apologized earnestly.

 The girl took the hairband and rubbed her sore head with a small smile “It is alright. I am sorry for dropping this” their eyes met. The girl grew anxious at the sudden staring battle that they had right now. She touched her face in case she smeared her lipstick.

 “I am sorry? Is there something wrong” she inquired.

 He was brought back to his sense as he blurted without he realize “Nothing. You are just pretty” Jungkook himself couldn’t believe what’s coming out from his sinful mouth. Clasping his hand over his mouth, he patted it giving it a scold.

 The girl blushed upon hearing his compliment as he watched him in horror “W-hat…” she faked a laugh and averted her gaze from Jungkook.

 “I mean..I didn’t mean to say that. That is just weird. I am sorry again” He bowed a little hoping he would not scare the girl away. What’s wrong with him anyway? This stupid filthy little mouth gave away compliment so casually especially to a stranger like her.

 She shook her head “It is alright. It must be the gravity” she reasoned.

 Jungkook bit his lower lips to surpass his chuckle at her silly reply “Urm.. I am Jeon Jungkook by the way” he flashed her a charming smile not trying to win her over but that’s just how he smiled.

 The girl was taken aback at first not expecting the guy beside her would introduce himself. This was the start of every conversation, how she hated that. Therefore just to be polite, she replied Jungkook casually “Nari…Son Nari” her eyes gleams.

 “Nari.. Nice to meet you Nari-ssi”

 “You too Jungkook-ssi”

 Interestingly, this Son Nari girl seemed to not recognize him. Not to sound like a superstar, but to be frank everyone knew Bangtan Sonyeondan but for some reason this girl had zero idea of his existence as one of famous idol members.

 After exchanging their names, they fell into silence again. Nari exasperated a sigh of relief knowing Jungkook was not a talkative person, so she could enjoy this plane ride with ease.

 Little did Jungkook know, Jin was actually faking him being asleep. He heard it all up until those little innocent conversation made by Jungkook introducing himself to some random girl. It was a rare sight but he’s proud of his dongsaeng mustering his courage to talk to opposite sex.

 Jungkook stiffened in his seat still contemplating whether to ask questions or kept his mouth shut. Part of him wanted to prolong this conversation as he was curious of this Son Nari person. A soft sigh escaped as his fingers fiddled nervously.

 “You should be thanking me later Jeon” a soft voice whispered awfully low and close to his ears causing him to jerk backwards accidentally hitting Nari again.

 “I AM SO SORRY AGAIN” he looked over at the confused girl and threw a nasty glare at Jin, grinding his teeth together.

 “You seem to have the knack of bumping into others clumsily” she chortled.

 The corner of his lips tugged into an embarrass smile “I thought there was a bug on my seat” he lied. Studying her facial more clearly know, he could tell she’s judging him considering how hard she tried to hold back her laughter.

 “Actually you kinda remind me of one of my friends.. he is..” Nari couldn’t believe with her own eyes that she actually felt comfortable talking to a stranger exchanging their stories and life which was she rarely did every time in public.

 But..Jungkook. Something about him made it feel different.

 Was it his smiley face?

 Was it his perfectly round eyes?

 Was it his giggly side every time he got shy?

 It had always been a start of something new. Nari could use new friends.

Previous | Next: Epilogue  

This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[hotforharrison]

Shelter ch 3

Chapter 2 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 4

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader, Tom Holland/Reader, eventually Harrison Osterfield/Reader/Tom Holland

Summary: You’re stuck thousands of miles away from home and everything you’ve ever known as what had come to be known as ‘the infection’ spreads. Things look bleak until you find your two saviors.

Word Count: 2,166

Warnings: Language, brief (one sentence) mention of sexual assault.

A/N: This part is much tamer than the last one. Poor reader, though.

“Harry,” you said again, burying your face in his chest. He was warm, and solid, and most importantly, alive. It was everything you’d hoped for.

“Actually, it’s Harrison, or Haz,” he tried to correct you. He glanced over at Tom. “Did you tell her my name?”

“No, that’s all her,” Tom commented. “Do you think you can take care of her while I make a supply run?”

“Of course, mate,” Harrison told Tom.

You heard Tom walk off while you clinged to Harrison as if your life depended on it, still convinced that he was Harry.

“You’re pretty gross right now. Let’s get you into the bath, yeah?” he suggested.

“Don’t leave me,” you insisted.

“I won’t,” he reassured you.

You took his hand as he led you to a bathroom with a tub and shower, turning on the tap to run a warm bath.

“You should get undressed,” he told you.

You stripped off your bloody top and bra, struggling a bit with the clasp as dazed as you were, and toed off your slightly less bloody shoes.

When Harrison didn’t start undressing, too, you glanced over at him, confused.

“Aren’t you going to join me, Harry?” you asked.

“What? No?” he answered, looking at you like you were crazy. “And it’s Harrison. Harr-i-son. Not Harry.”

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long, and I don’t want the last man to touch me to be that bastard Tom shot. Please,” you begged.

“I’d be a monster if I did anything with you right now, and even if I were that sort of monster, Tom would fucking kill me if I took advantage of you, love,” Harrison said. “I will help you get cleaned up, though. I’m honestly not sure if you’d drown in the tub or not in this state.”

You pouted a bit, but let Harrison help you into the tub without actually joining you. He gently rubbed a soapy washcloth over your dirty skin, rinsing it in the tub until the water turned an unpleasant shade of black.

You hissed when he put shampoo in your hair, pain and stinging blossoming from the back of your head.

“Shit, your head is bleeding. That’s a nasty bump. No wonder you’re being weird,” he commented while he rinsed you off with fresh water from the slowly running tap.

“I’m not being weird,” you argued as he drained the dirty water.

He rolled his eyes at you. “You think I’m Harry, whoever the fuck that is.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re my boyfriend, Harry. You used to be infected, but now you’re okay again,” you explained to him, like he was a child. “I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

“Fuck,” he said to himself. “I hate to tell you this, but I’m definitely not him. You probably have a concussion.”

“But…” you trailed off, sniffling. “If you’re not Harry, he’s still dead.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “You’re clean. Let me see if I can find something for you to wear for now.”

He helped you to your feet and handed you a towel. You weren’t stable enough to stand for long periods of time, so you sat down on the toilet lid and started drying off slowly and carefully, not sure what to think.

He was apparently satisfied that you were safe for the moment. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned a couple minutes later with some sweatpants and a t-shirt. “These will have to work. I’m sure Tom will bring back something for you that’ll work better.”

“Would you lie down with me?” you asked softly as you got dressed.

You watched as he bit his lip while he considered it.

“Alright,” he eventually agreed, leading you to a bedroom.

“Go on,” he said, gesturing at the bed.

You lay down, and he got in bed you, arms wrapping around you.

“This is nicer than I imagined it would be,” you commented.

“No one’s ever held you before?” he asked, obviously surprised.

“No,” you responded, a few tears rolling down your cheek. “I always wondered what this would be like, what it would be like waking up in his arms.”

Harrison pulled you against him a little tighter. “I’m not him, but I won’t let you wake up alone,” he promised.

“Thank you.” You paused. “Harrison.”

His name felt strange on your tongue when he looked so much like your boyfriend had.

You nodded off in his arms, feeling safe and warm for the first time since you landed in London. If you closed your eyes, he could still be Harry for a while longer.

You regained awareness to a hushed conversation with a pounding headache, but kept your eyes closed and remained silent.

“What in the living fucking hell are you doing?” you heard someone softly say, angrily. It took a minute to place it as Tom. “I told you to take care of her, not fuck her.”

“I wouldn’t and definitely didn’t!” Harrison whispered from beside you, equally angrily. “She wanted to be held. She told me Harry is her dead boyfriend. He got infected. She thought I was him. I wasn’t going to leave her alone after that. Hell, she’d never even been held before. She just wanted some comfort. I could give her that.”

“I swear to god, Harrison, if you do anything to her while she’s like this,” Tom warned. “Some piece of shit motherfuckers were about to gang rape her a few hours ago. She’s probably still in shock.”

“Jesus. I won’t do anything to her,” he reassured Tom. “I promised I’d be here when she woke up. She deserved at least that much.”

“Alright,” Tom eventually agreed, “but you are going to be a perfect gentleman with her. I know you haven’t had a girl in your bed in months, but I mean it.”

“I won’t lay a hand on her,” Harrison promised.

You couldn’t help but groan at the way your stomach was starting to feel sick.

“Sweetheart, how are you doing?” Tom asked.

“Feel like I’m gonna puke,” you told him.

“Figured you would,” Tom told you and handed you a bucket that had been on the floor at the foot of the bed.

You barely got yourself over it before you spilled the contents of your stomach into it, which amounted to nothing more than some bile. Your mouth and throat burned.

Harrison started to roll away, but you quickly turned over and grabbed him.

“Don’t leave,” you said, desperately.

“I just have to piss,” Harrison reassured you. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

You reached out your hands to Tom. He sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I’m sorry I’m being so needy,” you told him. “Harrison looks so much like Harry, and I thought…”

“It’s alright,” Tom said.

“Do you have my phone?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s right here.” He handed it to you.

It still had some battery life left on it. You scrolled through your photos until you got to one of Harry and held it up.

“Holy shit, he really does look like Harrison.”

Harrison walked back in. “Who?”

You showed your phone to Harrison, too.

“I didn’t know I had a doppelganger wandering around London,” he commented.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You put your mostly useless phone on the nightstand. “I was just confused. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love,” Harrison said. “I’m more than happy to be your cuddle buddy if that’s what you need. You don’t even snore like this div.” He gestured at Tom.

“Hey,” Tom complained. “Let me know if he gets too handsy.”

“I think that was more me than him,” you admitted.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harrison said, gently squeezing your hand.

“Do you want to see if you can keep down some paracetamol?” Tom asked.

You turned to Tom. “What’s that?”

“Just a painkiller. I don’t know how much it’ll help with your pain, but it’s better than nothing,” he replied.

You sat on the edge of the bed until your world mostly stopped spinning. When you stood up, you grabbed the bucket and followed Tom, Harrison close behind.

Your mouth still burned. “Can I have something to drink?”

“We have plenty of water.” Tom led you to a small kitchen and gestured for you to sit at the table.

“I’ll go grab the paracetamol,” Harrison said, leaving the kitchen.

Tom opened a small refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water to hand to you

You opened it and took a long drink, swishing it around your mouth to get rid of the lingering taste of acid.

“Slowly,” Tom warned.

You nodded and took little sips.

Harrison returned with two pills and placed them in your hand before he sat down next to you at the table.

You took both of the pills and continued sipping your water.

“I found some clothes for you on my supply run earlier,” Tom told you. “I wasn’t sure what size you were, so I guessed and grabbed several sizes. At least some of them should fit you better than our clothes. I wasn’t able to get everything you might need, but I got enough for now.”

He brought a few boxes into the room, filled to the brim with women’s clothing.

You told him your sizes, and watched him dig through the boxes putting the clothes into piles.

“I didn’t do half bad,” Tom commented.

The pile of clothes that would probably fit you was larger than the pile of clothes that probably wouldn’t.

“Can I have some of those lounge pants and a shirt?” you asked.

Tom tossed a plain black shirt and a pair of pants over to you.

You remained sitting when you tugged Harrison’s shirt over your head and replaced it with one in your size.

The boys immediately looked away while you changed your clothes.

The sweatpants were next. You carefully pulled them off and replaced them with lounge pants that were actually the appropriate length for your legs.

“Thank you,” you said to both Tom and Harrison, and they glanced back over at you. “If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d probably be dead right now.”

“No problem. It’ll be nice to have some new company around. I was starting to get tired of Harrison,” Tom teased.

“Hey!” Harrison exclaimed, mocking outrage. “Really, though, I’m glad we could help you. We haven’t seen many survivors out here, and none of the ones we have seen have had good intentions.”

“I came from a shelter at a school on the outskirts of London. Someone set it on fire last night, and I ran through some woods to get away from the infected and whoever was shooting the other survivors I’d been with,” you told them. “I think I’m the only one that made it.”

“Fuck,” Tom said. “Things keep getting worse out there.”

“How did you end up here?” you asked.

“I found this bunker years ago. I used to bring girls here to have some privacy when I was a teenager,” he confessed. “As far as I know, no one else has found this place.”

You laughed, not thinking too much about Tom bringing girls here to hook up with them. Harrison reminded you so much of Harry, but Tom was the Prince Charming who rescued you, and was every bit as handsome as a Disney prince.

“I was only in London to visit my boyfriend,” you told them. “He was one of the first infected, I think. He worked in a medical lab. I think he might have been exposed there. I was going to fly back home, but the airports were shut down the day I was going to leave.”

“I’m sorry about that, darling,” Tom said.

Harrison just grabbed your hand again and lightly squeezed it.

“I was going to bring my family here, but when I went home, they were just gone. I don’t know what happened to them,” Tom told you.

“Same here,” Harrison said. “Tom and I had gone on holiday before things got bad, and we barely managed to get back to London at all through all the blockades.”

“I hope they’re alright out there.” You were doubtful, though.

“Me too,” Tom agreed.

Harrison nodded.

You drained the last of the water bottle and sat it down on the kitchen table.

“Do you want to get some more rest?” Tom asked.

“It would be nice to sleep off the rest of this headache.” You turned to Harrison, nervously. “Would you mind…”

“Not at all,” he responded, wrapping an arm around you as you walked down the corridor toward his bedroom again.

He got in bed first, lying on his back.

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping yourself around him. “Thank you for this,” you said softly.

“It’s not a hardship, having a pretty girl with me in my bed,” he teased.

You chuckled, then yawned.

Surrounded by Harrison’s warmth, sleep came to you easily.

Tag list: @tom-hollands-blog @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @relise-thefury @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @eeyore101247

[initiala]

Hi.

I'm sorry this took a long time. Post-Big Bang burnout hit, coupled with crazy work stuff, and to be quite honest there were a lot of tricky conversations in this chapter I had to figure out.

We're setting the stage here for pretty much all the conflict to come, there's just one more piece that'll come into play later. Until then, enjoy!!

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

Her tongue slid up the length of his cock, swirling around the tip before taking it into her mouth. He shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, and she moved slowly, bobbing her head up and down on the tip while pumping the base.

She'd woken up with his morning wood pressing against her thigh - he really did like to curl up with her while he slept - and she really wasn't going to pass up an opportunity when it presented itself. She felt like it was only fair, returning the favor; he liked to wake her with his head between her thighs whenever the mood struck him. One hand slipped down to fondle his balls, her nails lightly scratching along his thighs as she gently squeezed and massaged. She inhaled; his scent was stronger here, marking her every time she took him in, letting anyone with a nose know she was his and he was hers. He twitched under her as she continued to lightly tickle his thighs. He whimpered, mumbling her name as his hips rocked up; she smiled around his cock, taking him in deeper with each pass.

She also felt that waking him with a blowjob was a small thing she could do to show her appreciation for how much he'd taken on when it came to wedding planning in the last few weeks.

Between Killian and Ruby, the whole wedding came together without any fuss; they were an extraordinarily efficient tag team. Ruby wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and Killian could grease the palms of those who might say 'no' anyway. Emma nearly had a heart attack when she realized how much they were spending - in costs and in bribes - but Ruby assured her that she'd negotiated the prices way down from what the initial offers were. And she only had to threaten to call Emma's uncle twice.

Knowing Uncle James, he would have liked nothing more than to be called in as muscle, but it was probably better for everyone that he didn't go around threatening people over something as simple as the cost of a reception hall.

Just a week left and all they had to worry about were the small details.

Killian groaned softly, bringing her back into the moment. She paused a moment, giving her jaw a break while she kept pumping his cock, watching the little furrow between his brows deepen. He was almost awake, she could just tell, but still asleep enough to think he was dreaming this. She smiled to herself, then wrapped her lips around him again and sucked hard. "Emma… Emma."

Then his hand found her hair and she knew he was awake; she'd be a little offended if he wasn't at this point. She redoubled her efforts, going down on him like her life depended on it, and was justly rewarded when his grip in her hair tightened and he cried out as his seed shot down her throat. She swallowed and sat back on her haunches with a satisfied smile, watching his chest heave and his hand scrub the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. "Bloody… not that I'm complaining, love, but what was that for?"

"No reason," she said, getting up and stretching her arms up over her head, knowing her shirt was riding up and giving him a little tease.

She caught his eye and smiled again, warmth flooding her chest at the adoring look on his face. "Why don't you come back to bed and I'll show you just how much I appreciated it?" he asked, his voice low and his accent thick from sleep.

She shivered and saw his nostrils flare: the offer was a tempting - and arousing - one, and he knew it, but they had things to get done today. "We're supposed to be at Alice and Robin's by noon, remember?"

Killian sighed. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

Emma rolled her eyes. They'd stopped by the apothecary not long after Liam had left to get Granny's ingredients and to put a bug in Alice and Robin's ears about any anti-human speech from the non-human population. They'd been careful to leave out any details of Regina or the downtown packs so there weren't any witnesses being led, but with both young women being in prime position to hear the gossip from all walks of life Emma thought they'd have heard something after more than a month. "I'd like to have these things checked out before the wedding, so we can spend time together without worrying."

"I know, love." He sat up and scrubbed his face again. "I just… I have a bad feeling, that's all. And not in regards to Alice's insistence on allowing her to pet me when we've shifted."

She smiled slightly; Alice had a peculiar way of looking at life, and one of her many quirks was finding werewolves to be completely harmless, giant dogs. "I don't like it either," she said softly. "But better to know and be able to prepare than get caught off-guard again."

His hand drifted almost unconsciously to rub his shoulder, above where he'd been shot over a month before. Her heart panged; she went back to his side and put her hand over his, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He hummed in quiet content, his head resting against her chest. Between his healing and all of the wedding preparation, Emma was almost surprised he wasn't more tired, but having something to do seemed to take his mind off the incident - for the most part. They both slept restlessly, plagued by memory-dreams of that night, and seemed to be taking turns waking each other up so they might be able to get a better night's rest without the dreams.

(She made a mental note to talk to Alice about that too - there had to be some kind of charm or spell to get rid of nightmares.)

Even the last full moon had been spoiled; Emma hadn't wanted to venture too far from home, and even though Killian had protested earlier in the day, he'd felt differently once they shifted. So after a quick sprint around the block to shake out the post-shift jitters, they'd returned and spent the night curled up together on the couch in the living room.

Sighing at the memory, she kissed the top of his head again and then reluctantly pulled away to go get ready for the day. She wondered about next week's full moon as she showered and got dressed, if they'd do the same; a newly mated pair wasn't expected to make an appearance with the rest of the pack, but she hated mating in wolf form and wasn't sure how well they'd handle another night cooped up in the apartment again. She remembered the restless energy, combined with the newness of the bond, that made her almost wild with need to do something. She worried that something might overpower her hatred of wolf-mating and then she'd end up actually hurting Killian if she lashed out after being knotted to him for too long.

She was still pondering it when she went into the kitchen and started making… She couldn't quite call this breakfast, not at this hour, but she still attempted to actually cook what had started as an omlette and was now probably just scrambled eggs with bits of stuff in it when Killian came up behind her after his own shower, smelling fresh and still a little damp behind the ears. His hand and arm settled on her waist as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She could almost feel him relax, and smiled. "I've told you I love you, correct?" he murmured against her skin.

"A few times," she said, leaning into him in content.

"Mm. Maybe I should say it more often." She giggled as he turned her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she said, resting her forehead against his. And then, because she could smell his arousal and feel him stirring against her thigh, she added, "You're not going to distract me from going to Alice's."

Killian sighed dramatically, then kissed her again. "Can't blame me for trying."

Emma reached down and squeezed his ass, then gave it a light smack before insisting he move and let her finish cooking. "We're going to find something to help you sleep better, too."

He groaned and she smiled, remembering what he'd told her about his first encounter with Alice's medicine making.

There it is, he thought, jogging up to the shop. Which Witch and Whatsits. While non-humans rarely tended to get sick, the bugs that did catch up with them were mean little things and Emma had been suffering from migraines and fever for a week now. This was the closest thing to a chemist they had in the neighborhood for their kind.

A gray-striped cat hissed as he entered the shop, sitting on top of the bookshelf right next to the door. Killian barely spared it a glance; cats didn't like him, he didn't like cats. The wolf part of his mind stirred, an idle urge to give chase brewing, but he stamped it down: for one thing, it wasn't dignified for a grown man to chase a cat. For another, hunting pets was something they tried to avoid on the whole. No need to make the neighborhood children cry because a beloved family pet was missing.

Though in this case, he simply had no wish to be cursed by the witch that owned this particular cat.

"Cheshire, behave. He's a strange wolf but he's new to the neighborhood." Killian looked up, noticing a young woman. She wore large, round glasses and kept her long blonde hair tied back in a braid.

He raised an eyebrow at that; from his understanding, this one was entirely human. She saw the look and raised an eyebrow of her own. "You think I married a witch and haven't picked up a thing or two? Werewolves walk a certain way. And you're shacked up with Emma Swan, and as far as I know there's way less leniency on inter-species relationships in the wolf packs than other supernaturals."

"You must be Robin then."

"And you must be looking for Alice."

"Who's looking for me?"

The witch bounded out of the back and made a beeline for her wife, clearly needing the same sort of quick affection he and Emma did when they'd been apart for a while. Her short blonde hair was a riot of curls and frizzy in the way of one who spent a lot of time in humid conditions - which spoke for her peculiar gardening of medicinal fungi. Her eyes met his and they widened in curiosity. "Oh hello. You're new, aren't you?"

Killian only had time to nod before she clasped her hands together with an enormous grin. "Excellent. Haven't had a new one in ages, it gets so boring seeing the same faces all day long. Not you, Robin-"

"No offense taken, my love."

"It's just I don't get to see what else I might be missing in my medicines. Limited quantity of germs to work with, all inbred and so very dull-"

"I'm just here for Emma," he said, even as she was reaching for him. "She's taken ill-"

Hand in hers, the witch took him back into what he presumed was her workshop. "We'll get something for her, but in the meantime -" She sat him on a stool and pulled over a tray of what looked like dental tools. She picked up the little mirror tool and what looked like a long Q-tip. "Open wide."

The storefront of Which Witch and Whatsits was unassuming, a subdued sign and a modest window display that mixed travel and New Age products, designed to lure in the younger crowd experimenting with their beliefs and interests. There was a little bell that jingled above the door when they went in and Emma saw Robin talking to a couple of college-aged girls; there were piles of maps and travel books spread on the counter in front of them and even if she couldn't hear their quiet conversation, Emma would know they were discussing the best ways to backpack safely through some part of the world on a shoestring budget. There was a map on the wall behind the cash register with pins in every country Robin (and, eventually, Alice) had been to, and photos forming a sort of border around it. Everest's base camp, riding camel-back through the Sahara, motorcycling across Turkey, summiting the Mayan pyramids - it was no wonder the travel bug-bitten youngsters in the area came to Robin for advice and stories.

Robin glanced up at the bell and nodded at them, not missing a beat in her own conversation. Whatever she knew, she'd likely passed on to Alice, and they wouldn't need to interrupt her.

Cheshire lay sprawled out between a display of healing crystals. He laid his ears back and made a noise of discontent when he saw Emma and Killian; she'd have thought by now that as a witch's familiar Cheshire would be used to all sorts of non-humans coming by, but he only mostly tolerated the presence of other supernaturals. Then he chirped and got to his feet, jumping down from the display and trotting through the beaded curtain that separated the human side of the shop from the magical one.

After only another moment, Alice poked her head out from the other room and grinned, waving them in. The hair on Emma's arms stood up as they passed through the magical barrier placed in the beaded curtain, a spell designed to keep all signs, smells, and sounds of magic away from anyone not "in the know" to the magical community while allowing anyone back here to keep an ear out to the front of the shop.

It was a useful spell, but it still made Emma feel like her hackles were up for ages after.

The workshop itself was a curious mix of greenhouse and darkroom, inviting conditions for all sorts of plants that Alice liked to experiment with. It was warm and humid, making everything slightly damp to the touch. "So, how're you two?" Alice asked, plopping herself on a stool. "Been a bit, yeah? Got all your doves in a row for the wedding?"

"We're fine, Alice, thanks," Killian said. He braced himself against one of the workbenches. "Almost ready with the plans, really just ready to get on with it, you know?"

"That's how I felt when Robin and I got engaged-just wanted to elope and be done with it, but her mum went all 'mother of the bridezilla' and wanted a big to-do. It was nice, I guess, having a mum going bananas over everything, but it took ages to get it all sorted."

Emma couldn't help but glance down at the frankly enormous ring on Alice's finger and pressed her thumb to the band of her own ring reassuringly. It might not be big or flashy, but it held so much meaning and she'd never be able to put into words how thankful she was that Killian agreed to use it for their engagement. "Kind of feels that way with Ruby, even though she's getting everything set up ridiculously fast," she admitted.

"See, that's what everyone should have in their lives. One person who's nutter for planning. Leave a project with 'em and do your own things and come back later when it's ready. 'Course, it's only really useful when there's a big party, but sometimes letting Robin's mum loose with watering the plants while we're gone means we come back to a cleaning service having mucked up my mushrooms and the socks are sorted. She's not one to do the dirty work herself, but she's got all the best contacts in town to get a job done, me mum-in-law."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Killian cut in, "Yes, and I'm sure if we need something else catered we'll ask for a number, but we're really here to discuss any updates you might have for us?"

"Oh, he's all business today, ain't he?" Alice asked Emma, who just gave a tight-lipped, slightly apologetic smile. She drooped slightly when she realized neither of them were very interested in playing games. "Wolves. Can't change a subject when you've got a rabbit between your teeth."

With a sigh, she hopped off the stool and beckoned them over to a slightly more conventional desk, covered though it was with notebooks and half-thought-out ideas and drawings, spells, and arcane symbols. All of the papers were slightly crinkled and swollen from the heat and moisture in the room, but most were unceremoniously swept aside to reveal a map of downtown Boston and some carefully taken notes in what must have been Robin's handwriting, because it certainly didn't match any of the barely legible scribbles of a witch at work. "So this is what all the little birdies have been telling us."

As she spoke, Alice pointed out various spots on the map where they'd colored in blocks and streets. "So this is where we'd overheard anything that could be taken for anti-human speech. I made a little color chart here: red is the worst of it, orange and yellow being less so, and down to green being things like annoyances at tourists and the like, nothing that the humans themselves wouldn't complain about."

"And with all the holidays lately, the tourists go up," Emma murmured, noting how much green there was and feeling relief at that. "How'd you figure what's dangerous talk and what isn't?"

"Well, Robin's fair used to hearing all sorts of nonsense said about her, what with the travel and all," Alice said. "She's got a good sense of what's nonsense and what's a threat, my love, so we started there. But we noted something interesting."

"It's all congregated in certain areas," Killian said, pointing to clusters of oranges and reds.

"Exactly! So I made a few rounds with some of the other local witches and got an idea of what their neighborhoods are like."

Witches, Emma learned, tended to congregate towards populations that fit their specialties. There weren't a lot of other non-humans in their neighborhood other than some of the Dorchester pack, so Alice could focus mostly on medicines and toy with side projects as she wished. The areas Killian pointed out were more diverse; the witches there dealt with werewolves and vampires, Fae and centaurs, and others Emma hadn't even known were local. "So we're already looking at centralized neighborhoods," she said, resting her elbows on the table. Alice had even drawn in patterns of where she knew certain species lived.

"Birds of a feather flock together," Alice said. "Or wolves in packs."

"I wonder if Regina wants to evict everyone who isn't Pack, or if she'd be content with making it non-human zone," Killian murmured.

Emma frowned; knowing Regina as she did, she couldn't imagine an alpha like her being wholly invested in creating a happy, magical community for everyone. She also didn't want to get into motives right now; they hadn't told Alice specifically to keep their suspicions quiet, and right now she was looking at them with a gaze that was entirely too curious for comfort. "Is there a timeline on when these notes were made?" Emma asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Just over the last six weeks."

The beaded curtain behind them rustled. "A lot more was said after Killian got shot," Robin's voice added. Emma glanced over her shoulder as the other woman came in. "I'll admit that a lot of the red areas were probably more Pack members speaking out than they normally might, and a lot of it has quieted down in the weeks since, especially after the announcement that you two were going to be married."

"What does that mean, 'normally might'?"

Robin shrugged with one shoulder as Alice lay her head on the other. "Werewolves are always more outspoken with the anti-human stuff than others, but it depends on who's doing the talking. Forest nymphs and water sprites are always vicious about environmental stuff. Centaurs complain about overcrowding and the ineffectiveness of their glamors with people still bumping into their hindquarters. I think of everyone vampires are the quietest about their complaints, but they have their mesmers and their blood bags so as long as they're fed they're happy."

Emma made a face; she really didn't like how casually vampires referred to the humans who willingly came to them or served them as 'blood bags', but there were a lot of things that made her squeamish about vampirism.

"So yeah, everyone has their complaints, but werewolves… I dunno, it always seems louder. And it got really loud after Killian was shot."

"Well, I'd think so," he retorted. "I got shot. By a human."

"Talk is always more about how Pack should remind humanity they aren't the only apex predators around, knock their egos down a peg or two, not outright finding the offender and killing him."

Killian's scent changed and Emma looked up at him, not liking the way his eyes flashed. "Well, I can't say I disagree with the idea."

"Killing the man won't change anything," Emma argued, alarmed that he'd agree with the anti-human talk.

"Might discourage others from trying anything else, or at least serve as an absolute reminder that there are things stronger than humans out there and we won't be intimidated by their weapons," he said. His voice dropped, colored with enmity. "And, may I remind you, he nearly killed me."

She opened her mouth, but the words got caught in her throat. He was right, he had absolutely every right to be angry about what happened to him. She was angry about it too - she wanted some kind of justice for what had been done.

But killing someone over it?

The wolf part of her brain agreed - rip, tear, kill - but she tamped it down. Dammit, wasn't she always going on about how she wasn't some kind of animal? How they were better than animals? She refused to be ruled by her baser instincts during her worst moments, she damn well wasn't going to let them rule her during her best. And while justice was necessary, killing the man was going too far.

This wasn't an eye for an eye. This was the whole head for an eye.

"Killing someone for harming someone else isn't a proportional response," she said, knowing her words were weak when she could feel the anger radiating from him.

"I think as the harmed party, I should get a say in how justice is handed out."

"So what, if a hunting party was called, you'd offer to lead it?"

"If that's what the Pack decided needed to be done, yes."

Alarm rose like bile in her throat. This wasn't done. Pack laws were clear about killing, when and where it should be done, and how. And since Killian had recovered and it wasn't deemed a magical attack by Uncle James and several of the other Pack elders, they'd ruled to leave the matter alone and remind everyone of what the possible dangers were during the full moon.

She'd heard Regina hadn't been happy about being overruled in the matter, one of the staunch supporters for such a hunting party.

"Well," she said, conflict in her heart, "it's a good thing the Pack decided everything should be left alone."

Slowly, she remembered that Alice and Robin were still there and watching them with mixed emotions playing on their faces. She felt like she should leave, ears laid back and tail tucked between her legs, but she had one more question. "Where's the greatest area of all the anti-human talk?"

Robin's eyes still looked worried, even behind her huge glasses, but her reply was prompt. "North End."

"I'm not happy about this, James," Aunt Jack said. "What's stopping the humans from trying this again at the next full moon?"

"Well, you can go join Regina and the other dissenters in that," Uncle James retorted. "Nothing's ever stopped them before, this is just the first time in our memory it's happened."

"You used to feel like this too. Fighting back, hitting them where it hurt most."

Sitting there and feeling seventeen again, Emma watched them bicker as she mulled over the announcement that Uncle James had brought home; she'd only come over to let them know about updates for the wedding when he'd arrived. Her aunt and uncle were always arguing about something; Emma hadn't understood it when she was young, but after living with them she figured out it was just how they worked together. You didn't get to be the head of a pack the size of Dorchester by being soft and accommodating. They were happiest when they were fighting.

Uncle James sighed, running his hand through his graying hair. "Yeah, well, I've learned a thing or two about diplomacy since then."

"There will be Pack who see this as weak," Aunt Jack argued.

Emma nodded; she agreed with the majority ruling, but she knew there would be plenty of Pack members who might see this as an opportunity to challenge for leadership. "There will always be Pack who see the alpha's decisions as weak," she said. She ducked her head at Aunt Jack's sharp glare, a reminder that while she held high status in the pack she still ranked lower than them and needed to show respect. "I'm just saying, if some idiot wants to actually challenge Uncle James to a fight, they'd better make funeral preparations first."

It would never feel right to see such a wicked grin on a face that was identical to her father's, but that was Uncle James through and through. "Smart girl. Now, what are you making us pay for this time?"

Killian left first, allowing Emma to gather her thoughts and her wits after the meeting ended. She and Robin left Alice to her mushrooms and Emma tried not to sneeze as the full scent of the incense in the shop hit her nose; it was nauseating to her, she didn't know how regular humans could stand it.

She wandered over to look at a display on meditation, breathing in time with what the directions were telling her and wondering if there was any clout to this whole chakra thing, when Cheshire yowled at her and something batted against her boot. She looked down and saw the familiar staring back with unnerving intelligence in his gaze. He yowled again and batted at an egg-shaped stone of mottled green and purple against her boot again. Emma bent down and shooed the familiar away, picking up the stone. "Hey, Cheshire's moving your rocks around," she said, looking it over as she took it over to Robin.

Cheshire hopped up on the counter next to Robin, who pet him absently as she noticed what Emma was holding. "Ah, that's fluorite - a worry stone. He must think you're stressed."

Emma side-eyed the prickly familiar. "Here I thought he didn't like me."

As if to prove her point, his ears went back and he looked away, but he didn't actually hiss this time and she took that as an improvement. "He does what he wants, but he's pretty good at getting people the things they need. Most of the time he's more subtle, but since you already know what he is, I don't think he cares." Emma looked down at the stone and Robin's tone changed to something softer. "Hey, that one's on the house. You two… seemed a little tense back there. It can't hurt and it might even help."

Emma's eyes flicked up back to Robin's and her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "This healing crystal stuff actually works?"

"You buy magic mushrooms from a witch and turn into a wolf once a month, but you're asking if healing crystals exist?"

"Okay, I don't buy those kinds of magic mushrooms."

Robin's smile was pure mischief. "They're there when you want 'em. She bred a new batch, much more potent but grounds you enough so you don't end up doing something stupid and dream quest off a cliff."

Emma made a face. "I don't think I'd be able to handle that."

"It's not for everyone." Her smile faded. "But seriously, Alice does… something to bring out the qualities in the crystals we sell. I don't ask, her magic talk just sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me. The other shops like this just sell plain rocks and they're aesthetically pleasing, but our stuff tends to work. It can't hurt, and it might help when you have to have what I'm gonna guess is a really uncomfortable conversation when you get home."

Emma made another face. "God, don't remind me… How can he think like that?"

Robin just shrugged, scritching Cheshire's ears. "People who are wronged… sometimes I think they're the only ones who get to decide who justice is mete. I've been around the world and seen a lot of justice done badly. But I've seen a lot of justice carried out to the best it can be done and people are still hurt by the results. No one's happy. So maybe this is how justice was handled, not doing anything in order to protect everyone involved, because the other option is going to blow a hole between two sides that might never be fixed. But Killian won't see it that way for a while, because while his body is healed, it takes a lot longer for the mind to heal."

Emma mulled that over for a moment, rolling the worry stone around in her palm; it made sense and put it into better words than she'd been thinking.

And the warm stone in her hand gave her the strangest feeling of tension leaving her shoulders.

"I don't know if he'll see it that way, but I'll try," she said. Then, remembering her earlier mental note, she added, "Oh, and speaking of mind-healing, I was wondering if you had anything that could help with nightmares."

She arrived home a little while later with a bag of sleeping tea and a chunk of black tourmaline to put in the bedroom - she was still skeptical of the crystal, but at this point she'd try anything (and regardless, she knew the tea would work; this was just a fallback). Though the sun was going down, the apartment was dark; she inhaled and found Killian's scent was fresh, tinged with bitterness and fading anger. She also smelled liquor.

Sighing a little, she put the tea in the kitchen and started towards the bedroom. "Swan," Killian called out, his voice a little hoarse.

She turned; he was sitting on the couch, though honestly calling it 'sitting' was being modest, what with all the manspreading of his arms over the back and his legs stretched out under the coffee table. A tumbler of what she surmised was rum was in his hand; the rest of the bottle sat on the table and she recognized it as one of Elsa's "guaranteed to knock a werewolf on his ass" brands.

Cool. Great.

"Don't make a man drink alone," he said, though he looked fairly drunk already.

Emma was in the mood for neither a drink or a man, but she just shook her head and went to the bedroom. She set the black tourmaline on the window ledge above their bed as Robin had instructed, then changed into more comfortable clothes. If she was going to be hauling Killian's drunk ass to bed or to the bathroom later, she'd rather do it in leggings than skinny jeans.

At that thought, she sat down hard on the bed and cradled her head in her hands. God, why was he the one driven to drink right now? He wasn't the one who found out his intended mate would be more than happy to murder someone for crossing him. He wasn't the one feeling betrayed because his intended mate agreed with the woman who killed her parents.

The metal of her ring pressed against her skin and Emma felt nauseated.

Fuck. They were getting married in a week. A week.

Maybe she did need a drink. A lot of drinks.

He knew how she felt about Regina, about Regina's politics. Saying he didn't disagree with the notion - the Pack-forbidden notion - that the man who'd shot him should be gutted for the crime was as good as saying he agreed with Regina. But he'd been shot, he had every right to feel angry and want revenge!

But that didn't mean it was right.

Emma dropped her head down and braced her hands on the back of her neck, trying to breathe and will away the nausea. He just needs time, she thought, remembering Robin's words. It's only been a few weeks since it happened, he just needs time to heal. And having nightmares every night isn't helping. Of course he wants revenge when he's reliving it all the time.

He just needs time.

She got up, head throbbing and feeling like her thoughts were twisted seven ways from Sunday, and went to the living room. Killian watched her with unsteady eyes and she noted that not even half the bottle was gone. Elsa's stuff really was strong if he was that far gone already.

Good.

Emma lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. The rum burned its way down her throat and lit a fire in her belly - she didn't want a drink, she decided as she lowered the bottle. She wanted to get drunk. If he could do it, for no real reason she could discern, then so could she. She had reasons to blur and block out her emotions right now, and she intended to suppress them with as much alcohol as her body could handle tonight.

She took another long drag out of the bottle, ignoring the tiny bit of common sense left that told her the alcohol would smack her in the face like a truck if she kept this up.

She sat on the chair, bottle still tightly held in her fist, and met Killian's gaze with her own. She didn't want to talk, not now, not with one of them sober and the other piss-drunk already. They could talk - fight - later, when she couldn't see straight and the words that wanted to spill out of her like bile were no more coherent than his. Hell, if she stayed this tense and the anger that still lurked in his scent remained, they might even take it to a brawl, and God help any of Boston's finest that get called out to deal with their little domestic at that point.

Her heart beat in her chest and with it came a surge of alcohol, a wave of relief and pain and anger all at once, making her arms unsteady as it worked its way through her body and clouded her mind.

She drank again.

"You're angry with me," Killian said, downing the rest of his glass.

"You're pissed at me," she retorted.

He took the bottle from her to refill his glass. She took it back, nowhere near drunk enough to fight yet, but if he wanted to get into it then she wanted to be prepared to not remember a single second of this. "I am," he whispered, drinking more. "But I'm angry at me too."

The bottle paused halfway to her lips. "What?"

"I don't… I don't want to feel like this." She watched him warily, taking another swig. "I don't want to feel like I need to take revenge, like I'd be glad to see the man ripped limb from limb, but I feel like if I don't do something then it's going to rip me apart inside forever. And I don't want to push you away. I don't want you to think I'm a monster."

She felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. "Killian-"

He downed his drink then looked her in the eye. "You looked at me like you were afraid of the beast within, Emma, and I never want you to look at me like that again."

"You were as good as agreeing with Regina, and you know how I feel about her. This won't last forever, Killian, but you can't let your instincts take over like that."

He held out his hand. "Come here, love." A knot of tension between her shoulders loosened at the pet name and she took his hand, yelping in surprise when he pulled her over to sit on his lap. "You have all the rum."

"Yeah, well, some of us got a head start on the drunken pity party."

She took another swig, but clumsily refilled his glass after. Damn, this stuff was strong. Then again, as she eyed the bottle, she realized they'd drunk quite a lot of it. Setting it on the table, she settled against him, letting his scent wash over her - definitely more rum-infused, but the anger was gone, leaving only the sour tang of bitterness in its wake, with more than a little arousal at having her in such close proximity. If it wouldn't have made her more dizzy, she would have rolled her eyes. "You know, there's no way I'd ever be afraid of your inner beast. I could take you."

Killian snorted. "You wish."

"I'm pretty sure we've fought before and I win every time."

"Only because I'm holding back."

She hummed, not quite agreeing with him on that. She nuzzled his neck, listening to his heart rate speed up and his breath quicken. A smile crept up on her, much of the anger and hurt slowly vanishing after voicing them and the giddiness of being drunk bubbling up inside of her; she loved this man, infuriating qualities and all, and maybe they still needed to talk and maybe they weren't going to see eye to eye on everything, but she loved him and she was going to marry him for better or for worse. Nuzzling him again, she let her fingers dance up the front of his shirt, tracing circles on his chest. God he smelled good.

"Do I?"

Belatedly, she realized she'd said that out loud and started giggling - fuck, she was definitely drunk if she was giggling like this. "You always smell good."

"Funny, because you always smell good too."

As if to prove his point, he leaned over and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She started giggling again when he nosed around, his beard scratching against her skin. Then he licked along her collarbones and she stopped giggling, a flood of heat coursing through her instead. "Fuck, Killian."

With surprising mobility for a man who'd gotten a head start on the whole drinking business, he shifted her so she straddled his waist, kneeling on the couch. The heady scent of arousal made her feel fuzzy and her clit pulsed in time with her heartbeat as she pressed against his growing arousal. "I only want you," he murmured, catching her lips with his.

She was too drunk to care where the sentiment came from, too lost in feeling his body pressed against hers. "I know how you kiss," he continued, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks and neck between words. "I only want to kiss you ever again, to know everything that makes you squirm and squeal. I only want this forever."

His words swam around in her brain as he stripped off her shirt and tossed it aside. How the fuck was he so eloquent? Then he buried his face between her breasts and she didn't care how wordy he still was after splitting most of a bottle of rum, she only cared about the feeling of him sucking on her nipples and his hand and his brace against her sides.

At some point she reached between them and unbuttoned his shirt, revelling every time his chest hair brushed against her stomach. His hand went to the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down enough so he could find her sex, dripping wet with want. Emma let her head fall back as his fingers gently probed her folds and slid through, the dual sensations of him fingering her and lavishing attention on her breasts almost enough to undo her. She moaned, her hands going to his hair and holding him in place as he fucked her with two fingers, easing some of the ache she'd felt.

She was dizzy and drunk and turned on and all she wanted was to feel his skin against hers. "As you wish," Killian murmured against her skin and she realized she'd been talking without realizing it again.

She whimpered when his fingers left her and fumbled rather ungracefully off to the side, fighting to get her leggings off of legs that didn't really want to cooperate anymore. Killian, meanwhile, had seemingly forgotten how his belt worked and was snarling in frustration as he tried to undo his pants. Emma, one foot caught in her leggings and the other leg still fully clothed, started giggling again, reaching for him. "You don't have enough fingers," she told him, helping him undo the belt and flicked open the button as well.

"I have enough fingers for you to come on," he retorted.

"I'd rather come on your cock," she challenged, and the surge of arousal she smelled rolling off of him was answer enough.

It was clumsy and entirely ridiculous, each of them trying to get their pants off enough to actually be able to have sex, but Emma forgot about it entirely when he lay on top of her, his cock nudging her entrance and then sliding in, stretching her and making her tingle from her head to her toes. "I love sucking your cock," she said, trying to move her arm to a better spot and not elbow him in the face.

"I love eating you out," he told her, his hips pushing up against hers.

"It's why I did it this morning."

"I know."

She gasped when he moved, feeling like every inch of her was wound and ready to snap. "Is Elsa's drink also a magic potion?"

"What?"

Normally he was the talker during sex, but the alcohol gripped her tongue tight and every thought that entered her head seemed to be coming out. "This feels different. Good different? Is it Elsa?"

"I really don't want to think about my brother's mate right now."

"Oh. I do, kinda."

Killian snorted with laughter. "Love, you're really very drunk."

"Yeah, and so are you."

His head dropped to her chest as he kept laughing and oh, that was weird, feeling him shake with laughter while he was inside of her. But she liked it, not nearly as much as she liked it when he was actually fucking her, but it felt nice. She squirmed a little under him, trying to get into a better position, but it must have had an effect on him because his laughter turned into groans.

He started moving again and Emma sighed happily. She shifted her legs up, hooking her ankles behind his knees and moaned loudly when he bottomed out. She closed her eyes, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through her. Her arms moved almost on their own in a slow, lazy drift up his back; she didn't need to cling to him - this wasn't their normal wild, passionate lovemaking - but she wanted to hold him tight, bring him closer, see how far they could go before blurring the line between their bodies and becoming one.

It didn't take long for her to come after that, her orgasm unfurling in a slow, dreamy way that left her sighing his name instead of screaming it like normal, but she thought it must be all the alcohol changing how it felt. She didn't mind, though, it was nice and it was making her sleepy.

Killian took a little longer to finish, his thrusts becoming more erratic and making desperate noises as he raced to finish. Emma made a face - it was starting to hurt a little - but but eventually he stilled, the dull, salty tang of his come reaching her nose as he spilled inside her. He lingered for another moment before pulling out and dropping his head against her chest, mumbling something she couldn't make out and didn't much care to ask him to clarify. She thread her fingers through his hair as he settled down over her, murmured wake me when it's time for dinner around a yawn, and promptly fell asleep.

[sea-dragon-pride]

☕☕☕☕☕ (KIDDING, 🌟🌼🌗❓!)

 ☕☕☕☕☕ WELL IF YOU MUST KNOW,,, my deepest darkest secret… my BIGGEST shame… is that I can’t get Calico’s cats to like me. I KNOW! I’m a fake druid, but I try talkin to them and I chase them around and they’re not havin’ ANY of it. The cats on this boat are anti-Tiller ghskgh;skgsgds

(ALSO THIS GOT LOOOONNNGGGGG, so I’m putting it under the cut, I’m So Sorry For Getting Carried Away)

🌟When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

I think when all hope is lost, I would always turn to Roy! I know I should probably say something like my real dads but I haven’t seen them in so long and I never want to worry them with things they don’t need to know about…. Roy always knew how to keep up a brave face, and somehow had a plan for everything, even when failure seemed inevitable. All the Sea Dragons for that matter, made me feel that way! I could never stay in a sour mood after an evening meal with Bingo or Codec, or hell, even Skiff! They’re practically my family and I know they accepted all parts of me into their ranks, so I can’t help but feel better if we’re all together. Though nowadays, that’s not an option, so… to calm down I usually like to hang out in the crow’s nest and chart stars. You can see the sky and the ocean for MILES, when everything is so grand and beautiful, things can’t seem so bad. Something about being up there reminds me that life is always moving, like the ocean! So if things are bad now… then they can’t stay that way forever, because that time will have to move somewhere else, somewhere in the past. On a simpler level, I really appreciate hugs and snacks. I’m the perfect form for cuddling! It’s not bragging, it’s a fact!!! So if I’m ever sad, just squeeze the life out of me and I’ll feel better. 

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI 

I see the red sails being raised at the end of the dock. Black skulls with a sun burst pattern decorates a number of them. The whole ship is made from stained black wood with red trim. The wood even smells burned.

Jeez, these guys are the ostentatious types, huh? 

Everyone looks like they’re bustling about, doing the prep work for an extended time out at sea. They’ll be expecting me anytime now, but when have pirates been punctual?

Okay, okay, new boat, new story, don’t sweat the small stuff. No one can ask you too many questions if you just keep up your overly-friendly small talk. These guys are supposed to be more dangerous than the last crews, which means a bigger haul. Roy’s counting on you.

I look around the main deck and spot an older woman with an intricate braid and a wide-brimmed hat. That’s gotta be her. I run up and say:

“OH! Ahoy there!!! I’ve never been on a ship this big before wOOWW! Love the color scheming, it really brings out the whole ‘murder-y’ vibes you guys seem to be going for haha! You must be Captain Rhea!”

The older woman looks perplexed (like they usually do), and responds: “That would be me, aye. Though I don’t remember ordering for an interior decorator aboard my vessel.”

“Hehehe no! But you DID send for a navigator and that’s me! Tiller Jakobie, at your service! I’ll tell ya where ya are, where ya goin, where ya wanna be, and how to get there! I also brought my own maps!” I lift them out of my bag proudly. These babies took ages to chart, but no one appreciates map craftsmanship nowadays.

Rhea sighs: “Ah, I did put Beremy in charge of recruiting didn’t I? Remind me not to do that again…. But yes, unfortunately, our last navigator has seemed to desert us for his own misadventures. If you’re the best we can do for such a short time, then so be it. Boys, get her set up in a room, I have business to attend too.”

Yeah… the misadventures of their old navigator mostly involve spending the next few weeks in the brig of The Quick Silver. If Franz is on guard duty, the poor guy will have to listen to him while he practices new songs. Hehehe that’ll make him WISH we threw him overboard!

I turn to my new alleged crew members: “SO! Miss Captain said something about accommodations? Do you guys have room service?? OH! What about those complimentary little soaps??!! Where am I stayin!! You’ve got a five star suite for me, right?”

Most of the reactions are as expected; a couple a furrowed brows, eye rolls, a few smirks and chuckles. I’ll have em head over heels for me soon enough, I mean, come ON! I’m adorable!!! They look around at each other, and one pipes up:

“Well I know someone who don’t have a bunk mate right now…”

The group kind of snickers and mumbles to each other. I hear some whispers - “That’s a lil mean for her first day, ain’t it?” “With HER, are you serious?” “Well, I ain’t gonna be the next one with a fresh scar for waking her up by accident!” They talk back and forth some more and come to an agreement of some kind? “Alright, we got a room for you, follow us!”

I trail behind them, trying to note down the layout of this ship. It IS bigger than The Quick Silver, more in width than in length. The mizzenmast is fortified and I can see spots for snipers to sit up by the topsails. That’ll be a problem to deal with later… We continue below deck and I’m practically pushed towards a room at the end of the hall. My welcome party already starts backing up toward the hold and they shout: 

“Alright, get cozy in there!” More repressed laughing. “Dinner’s served around dusk, see you then!”

Okayyyyy… whatever these guys think they got against me, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. What’s a little hazing between new crew members, right? I’ve faced worse.

“Uh hello?” I knock and open the door.

Oh Fuck. It is that bad.

In the room, there’s a girl, sitting on the lower bunk, sharpening a pair of swords. She doesn’t even flinch when I enter. Her hair is covering a lot of her face, since she’s looking down. It’s so long… Golden hoops dance under her ears. She has bandages around her hands and scars up her arms. Who IS she???

“Are you lost?”

I jolt back. SHIT, I’ve been staring!!! “Wh- huh?”

The girl looks up at me and her hair falls back. Oh NO, she’s PRETTY,,,,!!!!! My face feels hot, WAIT, is this room hot? DON’T tell me you’re blushing right now, Jakobie,,,

She asks again: “Are you lost? This is my room. What are you doing in here?”

Your mission. Remember your mission, dumbass.

“AHAHA OH RIGHT! N-NO WAY! In fact, it’s my job to be Not Lost! I’m Tiller, the new navigator aboard the ship, it’s SUPER nice to me you!!!”

She puts away her whetstone but doesn’t say anything.

I close the door, as I default to rambling over silence. “Well... ANYWAY, your friends said you needed a roomie so here I am! They seem like a fun bunch huh? They mentioned something about you stabbing someone, not that that’s important to me haha! D-Don’t answer that! Those are cool swords you have there!! Where’d you get them? Can you fight with them at the same time!!?? That’s CRAZY! But in a good way! Not that you’re crazy!! Also, I didn’t seem to get your name??” I take a seat on the chest across from her.

She starts to polish her swords. “I didn’t give it.”

Ohhhh one of THOSE types.

She glances up briefly and squints at me. “Why are you wearing a sleeve on only one arm?”

To hide my tattoo.

“OH haha! THIS??? It’s uhhh… to cover a… birthmark! It’s- It’s really gross and ugly and I, uh- hate it so I don’t like looking at it.”

She furrows her brow and kind of scoots further away on her bed after hearing that.

Smooth.

I start putting my stuff away. “Sooooo, I heard someone on the boat is named Beremy?? What’s up with that? That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

“Tiller doesn’t sound like a real name.” She mumbles.

“OHHHH SO SHE HAS JOKES!!! Miss Mystery over here has jests and japes for the the new girl, okay, I’ll take that one. I’m glad comedy is allowed in this room.”

She seems to eye me more closely now as I empty my backpack. She responds: “Just don’t touch my things and you won’t be sleeping in the galley with your namesake.”

“The other crew members seem to be kind of scared of you. Should I be worried, or are you all bark and no bite?”

I feel a whoosh of cool air whip past my ear. One of her swords is suddenly embedded in the wall behind me, inches from the side of my head. 

Whoa…. she’s Perfect.

She sounds a little irritated when she says, “I like for people to make their own judgements about me and not listen to rumors from people they’ve just met.”

My heart is racing. (Probably from the sword, right??) I yank it out of the wall. “That… was SO COOL!!! I didn’t even see you throw it. You’ve gotta teach me that!!!””

She looks a little taken aback.

I continue, “Also have you ever thought about pulling your hair out of your face with something??? Then maybe you can aim better!! Plus… I think your eyes are really pretty...”

“I-” 

Suddenly, there’s a bell ringing down the hall.

The girl looks away to the side. Was her face always that pink? She stands up and makes for the door. “That’s the dinner bell. You can… come with me if you want. It’d be weird to just stay in here.”

I hop up. “Alright Miss Mystery, if you INSIST!”

“It’s Mayday.”

“What?”

“Mayday. That’s my name. If I am stuck with you, then you at least ought to know what to call me.”

Mayday.

Aw man… how am I gonna figure out this one…?

🌗 Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours?

Early mornings all the way! As much as I LOVE sleepovers and gossiping over pillow talk, there’s something AMAZING about seeing the sunrise and getting to run around before the rest of the crew has woken up! Usually, I like to sneak food from Mr. Biscuit while he’s still making breakfast and I try to hide stickers in Selim’s armory. I chat with all the animals around the boat too! You know, catch up with the seagulls and dolphins following along side. I usually find a rat or two, and they always have the best jokes!!! Miss Shih says I should get rid of any rats I find, but what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt my loyal subjects. And then my favorite, I GET TO WAKE EVERYONE UP!!! Miss Shih’s always awake, so she’s the exception! You really bond and get to know a person once you’ve seen them at their most annoyed and delirious state, A HA I LOVE IT!!!

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

My question of choice: If you had a personalized Captain Hat, what power would it grant you?

THAT’S A REALLY HARD ONE!!! Part of me almost wants to inherit Roy’s hat because his power is really cool and he’s never let me USE IT!!!! >:///

But part of me also feels like it would be fun to just enhance the druid powers I already have! Like basically just become a water-bender and control the weather when you’re out at sea!! OH! Or maybe it could be a shape-shifting animal hat!!! (But how would that work in animal form?? Would they all get little hats?? That’s not intimidating!!!) Maybe it could be navigator related, and I would always know where I am and never be lost! OR MAYBE! It could track the thing you desire most!!! That seems kind of heavy for me though haha! Regardless, I can’t make up my mind! I want them all! The solution is that all captain’s should give me their hats and that’ll be the end of it!!! It’s only fair, and I deserve it of course!!!

[just-another-winchester]

When In Rome (9)

Chapter 9 - The Last Straw

Pairing: Dean x wife reader

Word Count: 2182

Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff

Summary: Dean notices changes in Y/N after she’s brought back to life, slowly realizing she isn’t the same woman he fell in love with and that she’s gone bad. Will he be able to save her? Or is she lost to him?

Feedback is amazing and makes me happy.

“Dean!” The eldest Winchester heard his brother call out his name, he opened his eyes to find Y/N missing yet again, had that been a dream as well?

“Dean wake up!” Sam’s voice was closer as Dean sat up in bed just in time to witness Sam run into the room, “Dean we have a problem.” He said,

“You’re telling me.” Dean muttered, “I was just happy and asleep with my wife beside me, and now I’m listening to you screaming.”

“No, Dean you don’t understand. I was just getting home and I ran into Y/N and Jack on their way out.” Sam began

“What’s wrong with that? She’s a responsible adult.” The man muttered

“She bumped into me and this fell out of her pocket,” Sam showed Dean the hex bag,

“A hex bag?” Dean questioned, earning a nod from his brother.

“That’s when Ruby stepped out,”

The expression on Dean’s face almost couldn’t be described, it was somewhere between shock, sleepiness, and pure rage.

“Ruby?” Dean demanded, suddenly very awake as he stood up,

“She took them, both of them. Dean, I hate to say it but… I think Y/n has been helping Ruby.” Sam said cautiously, “I don’t know why, or what for. But it might explain the hex bags, why she went missing, why she’s been different.”

Dean shook his head, “No… she’s different because she died, that’s weird Sam, it never happened to her, but she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t partner up with Ruby, she hates the bitch as much as we do.”

“Ruby never brought us back to life.” Sam reminded, “I was tricked by her Dean, you know that… I can understand how y/n would be.”

“Why?” Dean muttered, more rhetorical. He was confused, and angry, he didn’t want to believe that y/n would team up with Ruby.

“Dean,” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “We need to find her. Whatever is going on with y/n, Ruby has both of them.

Dean turned and looked his brother in the eye, nodding carefully.

“I’m gonna go see if I can track her cell.” Sam told his brother, walking away and leaving Dean to the empty room.

Dean stared at the belongings in front of him.

The vanity was littered with makeup and other girly items, his belt laid across it as well, on the back of the chair was his red flannel, a fun could be seen through the crack of a slightly open drawer.

He could feel anger rolling through him like a storm, in one quick motion he swiped everything off the area, yelling before he fell to his knees.

Could it be so? Is it possible that y/n would help Ruby? Put Jack in danger?

His mind went back to the last night he saw her, the memory of Ruby, of waking up in the alley, of the dead kid they found. What had happened?

He didn’t want to believe you would ever team up with the enemy, especially after everything Ruby had done, and he would pray if it meant you didn’t have anything to do with any of this, but something told him that Sam was right, something was hinky about it all.

All he could do was hope that he was wrong.

__

You paced back and forth, angry with yourself, with Sam, with Ruby, just angry in general.

“Would you sit still?” Ruby said with frustration,

“You ruined it!” You yelled at her, “Ruby they know now, they know what’s going on!”

“Maybe if you’t just put the hex bags under their pillows like you were supposed to we wouldn’t have been discovered so quickly!” Ruby fought back, “It doesn’t matter, we have Jack now we have to get things rolling. Come on, we have work to do.”

Ruby had zapped the three of you to an old hollowed out factory just a ways from the bunker, but in a very awkward spot.

The moment you had arrived she knocked Jack out with a blow to the head and used her magic to ward the closet door shut.

You nodded as you helped Ruby with the spell, it appeared to be older than the hills, you’d never seen a language like this, hell even Rowena might not know it. All you could focus on was the fact that you were a few minutes away from a monster free world, according to Ruby anyway.

You didn’t totally understand what was happening, part of you didn’t believe it, but you had to take this chance, the thought that you could rid the world of all supernatural evil with a few words of an ancient language… it was insane. And having Jack was just pure luck.

You tried not to think too much about the nephilim Ruby had shoved in the closet. Jack truly had been the closest thing you may ever have to a child, he was such a sweetheart, he always had been, truly a baby. A sweet, honest, loyal baby. Which seemed really weird but in all honesty it was amazing, you felt pride as you watched his happy face the moment he learned how to make a pencil float in the air, one of the best things was that he had allowed you to mother him.

But all of that, those memories, that was the past you, the one who hadn’t died, who had plenty left to live for. Dying had changed you, it made you recognize even more than this job of yours did, that life is so very precious.

Maybe destroying all the monsters would be a good change for the world, maybe it wouldn’t. You had no hope left, no tears to cry, no sorrows to feel. You were completely empty inside, all you wanted to do was get this over with so you could move on.

After this, Dean would never forgive you. You knew the man, he had a tendency to take betrayals hard, and for good reason of course, it sucks when someone you love betrays you. It wasn’t your intention to hurt him, but to help him. It ended up just making things worse.

One thing you did know, Dean was on his way, and you could only keep your fingers crossed that Ruby could speed things up and get finished before that happened.

Or you would have to fight the man you love.

__

“Are you sure?” Dean demanded as he drove the Impala down a dirt road surrounded by fields of corn.

“Yes Dean, it says her phone is down there, maybe there’s an old farmhouse or something, we have to try it.” Sam insisted as he kept reading off his phone, which was telling him where y/ns phone was.

“I don’t know,” The older brother muttered.

Sam remained silent as he looked over at his brother.

Sam had betrayed Dean once because he’d trusted Ruby more, and he knew that had hurt him. Now that the same thing was happening again, but with Dean’s own wife. He knew this had to be hard on his brother, but no… Dean remained stone cold as he drove Baby along the road.

He didn’t totally know what they would encounter. If y/n was working with Ruby what was it that they needed Jack for? Would they both be okay? There was just no way of knowing, and that was what irked him.

He knew y/n, they were the best of friends. When Dean was a demon, he’d been there for her, and she for him, they’d been each other’s strength, and because of that they both came through, and were better prepared to help Dean.

They’d hit rocky parts, when Sam and Dean were arguing, after Gadreel left Sam’s body, y/n refused to even speak with Sam. She’d been so furious for saying that Sam wouldn’t have saved Dean, it hurt her because it hurt Dean, but also because it made her feel alone. The idea that Sam wouldn’t help save him.

The two argue like brother and sister, not just because they were in laws, but because they’d been as close as brother and sister since the beginning.

His mind went to the day that Dean and y/n were married. It was beautiful, even though they didn’t have a wedding, both parties worked hard to make the other happy.

Since y/n didn’t have anyone in the vicinity that could be her maid of honor Cas took place, which had made her laugh so hard, she’d been so happy, and thanked Cas profusely for his sacrifice.

They still wore the tux, and the dress. He could remember the conversation with Dean in the other room.

“So, I look good huh?” The older brother said with a smirk, looking at himself in the mirror, swiping his hair back and forth.

“You’d look better if you would leave your hair alone.” Sam commented,

“I wanna look my best, this is a very important day.”

“Dean, you know by now that y/n wouldn’t care if you were wearing dirty torn up jeans and your old flannel. She said it herself, she’d marry you in a nightgown if she had too.” the young brother smiled.

He was so happy for his brother, and Dean was so proud, chest puffed out as he adjusted his bowtie.

“I don’t think I could get more ready.” He said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “We ready?”

Sam smiled at his brother, “Lemme go check on her first.” He said, leaving the room.

Dean was left by himself for a moment as he looked around the room, he’d been in shock. He couldn’t believe she’d actually said yes, that they were actually about to get married.

Sure it was just a piece of paper, but he knew that to her, it had been so much more. It made her feel proud and important, and he wanted to give y/n anything she may crave.

When Sam returned the two headed out to the judge, Sam waiting beside the groom as they waited for the bride and her angel of honor.

It didn’t take long for the two to walk in, y/n on Cas’s arm, a smile on her face as her fingers gripped his trench coat.

It was obvious how nervous she was. She smiles like crazy anytime she’s nervous, and the smile on her face was so wide that Sam might have thought she was the joker.

She really was as pretty as a picture, her smile wide, eyes bright with joy as she and Dean looked at one another.

You didn’t even need to guess what Dean was thinking, anyone could tell. You were gorgeous, and he really couldn’t believe this was really happening.

He was marrying the love of his life, his partner in crime, his best friend.

You’d done more for him than you ever knew, than you ever could know. Dean had been head over heels since the moment you met, and if someone had told him this was the outcome, he might have laughed, but now, he was completely lost, you were breathtaking, and you were his.

You almost ran into his arms, if you’d not been so on edge, Cas walked you to the man and you took Dean’s arm, looking up at him before promptly hiding your face in his arm, tears of joy escaping your eyes.

As you said your vows, placed the rings on each others finger, and said I do, all you could think was how happy you were.

When finally you were Mrs Winchester you sealed it with a kiss, the taller man leaning down to meet your lips.

You’d kissed him a hundred times or more, your relationship had lasted quite a while. Standing here, in this situation, being kissed by the man you were now married to… the feeling was just, so much… more.

When you parted you looked up at him, a smile on your lips as they parted.

Your life together was beginning again.

Dean shook Sam out of his thoughts, the memory now disappearing from his mind, which was disappointing. He only hoped Dean held onto the memory.

“Is this it?” His brother asked,

Sam looked up and spotted what looked like a large, old building. Possibly a factory of some sort, but according to his phone, that’s where y/n was, or her phone at least.

“Yep,” He sighed, not really wanting to do this. He was actually afraid of what he would find, he was dreading it. He knew neither of them wanted to deal with this, but they had to.

Dean pulled Baby up in the dirt right near the factory, parking her and pulling out the keys.

“We ready?” He asked, opening his door and beginning to climb out.

“No,” Sam said to himself as he got out.

That tiny wedding had been a fond memory for years…

Now it was time to find out what it cost them.

My Tag Lists are Wide Open!!!

Dream Team

@spn67-sister @queen-of-deans-booty@ria132love@winchestergeekfreak@maui137@katymacsupernatural@jayneysimp @emoryhemsworth @just-another-busy-fangirl@bunniesowlsandwhales @jensensjaredsandmishaslover@mogaruke @kristendanwayne@cassieraider@jensensjaredsandmishaslover@hms-fangirl@heyitscam99

Dean Team

@akshi8278 @polina-93 @aubreystilinski @-lovepeacenhope- @waywardbaby @missjenniferb @whimsicalrobots

When In Rome

@my-ships-will-never-be-sank@5sosandsoph@leilagracx@bisexualdolphinthings @reddhead95@becs-bunker @neganslittlebird @babyismyspiritanimal @aubreystilinski @ryantherandomhero @mypage-myfandoms

[nalufever]

One of a Kind: Chapter 1 of Guarding Miss Shirayuki

Fandom: Snow White with the Red Hair

Summary: Obi didn't know when he accepted the job of protecting Miss Shirayuki that he'd become so entranced with his charge. Yuki was smarter and more intriguing than any other person he'd spent protecting - but how could he ever have guessed Shirayuki would become so important? A canonesque romp of a story - exploring the relationship that could have been.

Chapter One: One of a Kind: Guarding Miss Shirayuki ~ This is the first chapter of three - Dedicated to my good friend @hidetheremote . You da best! Thank you for talking, listening and joining my salty rants! There’s two more chapters, so I hope you enjoy as much this as much as I loved writing in a fandom you adore. This section is about 5000 words ~ ^^

Obi spat, the thin stream of saliva and blood mixing with the old stains underfoot. He blocked out the shouts - some encouragement, some invective, and all easy to ignore. He'd endured five years of training, working his way up in the mixed martial arts ranking. No way was he going to blow his chance at the championship on account of some foolish yelling. All he had to do was beat this guy and he'd be in the title fight next month.

Hungry for the win, Obi's opponent danced left in the giant metal cage they occupied. Rushing forward, the man delivered a flurry of punches in combination with side-kicks. Voice gruff, he sneered, "You look tired."

With a feral grin, Obi shook his head. "M'not, but you must be." He raised his hands to protect his face and moved closer into Staniel's reach, surprising the man.

Staniel faltered, his next punch extending into the air where Obi had been. His arm pulled back but Obi had already thrown his arm and used leverage to toss him. On his back, Staniel cursed as Obi took total control, pinning him to the mat.

The bell clanged and the referee stepped in, bellowing the count, slapping the mat with every number. "...nine, ten!"

Obi sprang up with the official, his arm raised high. The crowd cheered, chanting, hooting, whistling. It was almost perfect. He searched the stands, imagining in the far off faces the features of long-lost comrades. Forcing a smile, Obi bowed his head in thanks.

Walking slowly out of the cage, Obi ignored his aches and pains. A hot shower would soothe his body even if it also encouraged morbid introspection. The dead were going to stay dead even if they still had space in his mind.

Alone again in his apartment, Obi shrugged off his clothes, leaving them in a heap and stepped into the welcome confines of the shower. Stinging needles of hot water washed away some of his melancholy. Head bowed again, Obi thought back to happier times. He'd been so young and naive - but no longer. Life had a way of teaching a student - it was either learn or die when your job was being a bodyguard.

Hands flat against the tiled wall opposite the shower head, Obi closed his eyes and pretended his tears weren't mixing with the water. Sighing, he stood straight, soaped and rinsed his body - regret wouldn't do anything but drive him crazy.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Shirayuki shifted the collection of binders in her arms and pasted what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm actually close to a breakthrough on one of the problem area formulas."

"How many times do I have to insist you call me by name?" Zen sat back in his padded chair, crossing his legs. "We did attend the same college, no need to be so formal."

"I'll try to remember."

"Excellent, I've decided to give you some assistance with your project." Zen smiled, hand drifting to one knee and tapping. "Our company stands to make a fortune once it's complete. That means competing companies, like Daiichi Sankyo and Otsuka Holdings, will want to keep pace by whatever means necessary."

"My team is full, sir."

"I wasn't asking-" Zen continued, as if Shirayuki's interjection hadn't happened, "-I'm telling you, as of noon today, you'll have a specialist added to your team."

"With what kind of Ph.D?" Shirayuki set her binders on the corner of the vice-president's desk, sinking into a chair. "I formed this team myself, we've got all the major talent we need."

"He's a security specialist." Zen nodded in time with his still tapping fingers, his eyes locked onto Shirayuki's gaze. "This is non-negotiable. The amount of profit is astronomical - and you're our main asset."

"Let me understand, you're assigning me some sort of bodyguard?" Shirayuki pinched the bridge of her nose. "There's no way I need some beef-brained, thick-witted muscle bound moron underfoot in my lab or interfering with my team."

"I promise to spend most of my time improving my feeble brain and keeping out of your way."

Shirayuki whipped her head around, mouth dropping open. The man in the doorway wore dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt, fitted to show off a lithe figure - no bulky or ostentatious muscles - a fit and firm body. Blushing, she grit her teeth and ignored the jump of rocks in her stomach. "Adding a person at this late stage will upset my workers."

"Don't overestimate your role, Shirayuki." Zen chuckled and waved the newcomer to the other chair. "All management is on board with this decision - Obi here will become your personal assistant."

"With all due respect," Shirayuki fought to keep her voice level, "I have no need of an assistant. What I said earlier is still true. I -"

"If I may, sir?" Obi picked up the binders on the corner of Zen's desk. "We'll leave first." He stood with an impassive face, leading the way from the private office, through the maze of cubicles in the main part and down the corridor towards the area kept secured for members of the bioengineering team.

More than a bit pissed over following her unwanted 'assistant,' Shirayuki lengthened her stride, intending to pass. "I don't need you to carry my stuff. I'm capable of managing my own possessions."

Voice dry, Obi said, "Such big words from a smart science nerd. Are you sure this muscle-bound moron will understand?" Obi stopped and held out his burden to his new boss. "If you want your notes, please take them - but how else are you going to explain my presence to your team?"

Shirayuki reached to grab them - hands out, she hesitated, thinking. She huffed and jammed her hands into her lab coat. "I'll get rid of you somehow."

Amicably, like he hadn't challenged Shirayuki, Obi smiled. "Once this job finishes, I'll go away. You're not the only one displeased with this arrangement." Binders held against his chest once again, Obi inclined his head to the still fuming woman. "After you, boss."

Shirayuki hunched over her laptop and stared at the group designed molecule, comparing it to the previous incarnation and checking her notes for discrepancies. Imelda tapped her on the shoulder, making Shirayuki jump.

"Sorry boss, we're taking a lunch break."

"Cafeteria?" Shirayuki pulled up another diagram. "Bring me whatever." She focussed back into her work.

"We're going stir-crazy," Imelda waved her hand in front of the screen. "Raj is insisting on taking us to his cousin's place. We'll be back a bit late - you don't want to come, do you?"

"I'm two ideas away from solving the last problem." Belatedly Shirayuki remembered to smile and look at her second-in-command. "You guys go and have fun - you've been working really hard. You may as well come back even later. Go rest your brains." She made a shooing motion, and waved goodbye to her team.

The private powder room door opened and Obi exited, wiping his hands on his borrowed lab coat. "You sent them to lunch without you again. Don't they ever wonder why you stay on company premises? Normal people like taking time away from work."

"They'd be more surprised if I joined them." Shirayuki took off her glasses, absently cleaning them on the hem of her shirt. "It's more expedient for me to eat in the cafeteria. I hate losing time to food when I could be solving more important issues." She looked up in shock as Obi filched her glasses with dexterity any pickpocket would envy. Squinting, she frowned in confusion.

"You mean to tell me you're an antisocial nerd?" Obi blew a puff of air on Shirayuki's glasses. Pulling a proper lens cleaning cloth from his jacket, he polished and presented the cleaned glasses to Shirayuki. "You should let your personal assistant buy you lunch."

Skepticism warred with hunger - stomach rumbling, Shirayuki saved her progress and locked the laptop. "Might be the only thing you're good for."

Obi smiled and said nothing, allowing his boss to walk in front. For all her prickly attitude towards him and his assignment, Shirayuki treated her teammates well - and worked a damn sight harder than he'd expected. Not that he thought all beautiful women were lazy - no, he'd done his homework after taking the bodyguard job. Shirayuki came from a monied family. Wealth, status and impeccable breeding - she didn't need to work. This woman wanted to make the world a better place and had applied her smarts to learning something that would benefit everyone.

Maybe he shouldn't enjoy how her hips swayed as she walked. Her figure, even hidden as it was under a lab coat - it was curved in all the right places. Obi shoved down his appreciation into the box he'd labelled 'late night fun time.' She wasn't the spoiled rich princess he'd feared - but she was far out of his reach. His pedigree was muddy while hers was golden.

Halfway to the cafeteria, the Vice-President of Fujisawa Corporation stepped into their path. "Hello, Shirayuki and Obi!" Zen smiled warmly at Shirayuki and exchanged nods with Obi. "I have some business matters to discuss with you, Obi."

"We're going to grab lunch in the cafeteria right now, care to join us?" Shirayuki, still ruminating about polypeptides and molecular bonds, missed the serious undertones in Zen's words.

"Go save us a good seat, I'll join you soon." Obi waved off Shirayuki, keeping his inner glee hidden as her nostrils flared and she stomped away. Beautiful, smart, and prone to quick flare-ups of temper (as befitting her fiery red hair).

Zen wasted no time after shutting his office door. "I need you to provide twenty-four hour coverage." He strode to his desk, hand slightly trembling as he dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the topmost drawer. "Here, take a look at this."

Face impassive, Obi read the threatening letter. He offered it back to Zen, "She's not going to take this well."

"She needs to be protected from knowing there's a death threat against her. You're getting paid well to shield her body, you can shield her mind too." Zen put the letter back. "She's not just a valuable employee, she's...she's special."

"I understand, sir." Obi took note of the light flush on Zen's cheeks, the man's starry eyes and wistful smile. "Shirayuki is a one-of-a-kind woman. Er, person."

"You were right the first time, she's a wonderful woman." Zen dropped into his chair and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "By any means necessary, keep her safe."

"Good work guys! Tomorrow is the weekend and that means I don't want to see anyone at work." Shirayuki laughed as several of her team parroted the same thing back to her, cautioning her against becoming a workaholic. "Fine, fine! I'll see you Monday." She waved them off, smiling.

"You going to take your own advice?" Obi smirked. Shirayuki had forgotten he was in the lab - or was he that good at staying silent? Either way, it was cute how she'd clutched her chest and glared at him.

This week of bodyguarding had been both heaven and hell. Miss Shirayuki was smart, personable and extremely capable - especially in regards to her work. Thinking about her, Obi had decided to keep a wall between them - needing the formal type of address to remind himself that the red-haired, smart, talented woman was above his reach.

Obi came to love watching her eyes light with passion as she wrote equations; the tip of her tongue making an appearance as she concentrated, how she'd push up her glasses and squint. It was hellish to be so close and be denied the physical contact he was dreaming of nightly.

"I know how to relax." Shirayuki lifted her chin. "See you Monday, unless you'd rather quit right now. Zen is blowing this product launch out of proportion. I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm sure you think that." Obi crossed his arms over his chest. "But you haven't ever tried my relaxation program."

"I'm good." Shirayuki's voice was flat and showed disinterest. "I have chores to do and no time to waste on you."

"Huh, didn't know you were a coward." Obi shrugged and waited - Shirayuki's nostrils flared. Oh, she was hooked. "For someone so smart, you're not willing to try other methods? Far be it for this muscle-bound moron to call you on your bullshit." Game. Set. Match. He made a show of checking his pockets for keys and tipped an imaginary hat. "See you Monday. Coward."

Shirayuki ground her teeth and seethed. What a high-handed, smug, sexy and rude bastard. "I'm not a coward."

"Good news, you're gonna love my relaxation program." Obi offered the woman under his care his arm. "Step this way."

Not exactly sure why she was going with Obi, Shirayuki decided she'd slip off once she got bored. A simple distraction and her unwanted personal assistant would never notice her leaving. Allowing him to take her somewhere was an anomaly. It had nothing to do with how cute the man looked. Nope! Nor his earnestness, or even how much she'd wondered about what he did on his own time. Uh-uh. This was her learning more about an opponent.

The sounds and smell of the underground gym hit Shirayuki hard. She'd been confused why it was several levels below the surface - and all Obi had said in answer to her questions was, 'no special reason.'

"Is there something wrong with the ventilation system?" Shirayuki did her best to breathe from her mouth. "I can recommend several new versions of air scrubbers - when's the last time this was serviced?"

Obi chuckled, ignoring Shirayuki's questions. The more he delayed answers, the more she'd be inclined to stay - or at least not want to escape at the first chance. He nodded to several competitors in greeting, making progress towards one of his oldest friends. "Beatrice! I'm glad to see you're still here at this hour."

"Well, ifn' it isn't our mysterious loner." Beatrice smirked, setting her weights onto the bar support. "What brings you here with a visitor? Not your usual Friday night type of date, now is it?"

"Date? No!" Obi flushed, his eyes widening as he looked back and forth between the two women. "This isn't a date - she's my current boss in need of some relaxation."

Shirayuki shifted her weight, lips pressed in a straight line. An uncomfortable minute passed. "Obi thinks I don't know how to relax." Her words were offered to Beatrice, but her savage look was given to Obi. "He's wrong."

"Yes," Beatrice nodded, "I can see that. Obi is so clueless when it comes to introductions though, wouldn't you say? Your name is?"

Face even redder, Obi rubbed his forehead. "Sorry Beatrice, may I introduce Miss Shirayuki of Fujisawa Corporation?"

Shirayuki thrust out her hand to the other woman, "Call me Yuki, pleased to meet you. No need to stand on outdated formalities."

"Agreed." Beatrice took note of Yuki's strong grip and enthusiastic shaking. "A pleasure for me as well. This gym could do with more females who know their own minds."

A bit chagrined, Obi looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I was wondering if you had a spare workout outfit to lend?"

"What's wrong with yours? Don't you keep extra spares?"

"Of course I do - but it's not really proper for me to offer man's clothes for a lady." Obi wished very hard for the floor to swallow him. "They're clean but not meant -"

"Clothes are just clothes." Shirayuki wasn't sure if she'd surprised herself more or Obi. "As long as they're clean - no big deal if they're men's or lady's." She smiled at Beatrice and dropped her expression down to borderline polite to look at Obi. "It's a bit more than rude to expect to borrow someone else's clothes without asking beforehand."

"I like her." Beatrice pinched Obi's cheek. "You should try to not fuck this up." She laid back on the bench and grasped her barbell, "I'm in the middle of my workout, so if you don't mind, I need my 'me' time." One smooth motion and Beatrice hoisted her weights. She winked at Obi. "Talk to ya later - maybe meet up when you and Miss Yuki have reconciled your differences?"

Obi met Beatrice's stare with a sinking stomach. "Yeah, that'll be soon, I'm sure."

Beatrice hummed noncommittally as she continued with her workout, dismissing Obi and Yuki from her mind - secure that sometime soon she'd be meeting up with them under vastly different circumstances. A more harmonious and happy sort - the kind you bring up in a toast to the bride and groom. She disguised a snort of laughter as effort and continued her bench presses.

Isolated in the empty changeroom, Shirayuki looked at the armful of clothes Obi had given her and smiled. Plain but serviceable t-shirt and shorts, dull blue in colour - but fashioned of moisture-wicking fabrics. She dropped them on the bench and took off her work clothes. Tonight was going to be interesting - and she'd never been so enthused to work-out before.

Obi hurried into his second set of gym clothes. Shirayuki had seemed interested in working out - but he'd be damned to take her acquiesce at face-value. If she was lying and ran out now, she might be captured by the scum threatening her life - and that would haunt him forever.

"I'm going to show you my usual work-out." Obi nodded, "Miss Yuki, this shouldn't be any harder than you can manage."

"How hard do you go at it on a regular day?" Shirayuki made sure to smile sweetly. "I'm sure I can keep up. Don't hold back on my account."

"Fine." Obi marched over to an unattended machine, adjusted the weights and changed the incline of the bench.

Shirayuki watched him, her smile losing its wattage as more people left the gym. "What's up with the mass exodus?"

"Friday nights aren't as busy - some people go out on dates instead of working around the clock like nerds." Shrugging, Obi pretended not to see Shirayuki frown. "Are you sure you should use such fancy words with a big dummy like me?"

"Don't distract me."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His dry delivery was at odds with Obi's smirk. He would dream of Yuki - and his imagination would spook her like nothing else. "This is a very simple machine, I would guess you've used something like this before."

"Obviously." Shirayuki tugged on the bottom of her borrowed shirt. "Who hasn't?" She gestured at her bodyguard to move aside. "All the time."

Obi hid his smile as Shirayuki sat backwards on the bench and did a very poor job of hiding her search for work instructions. She moved her feet further apart and made a show of rolling her shoulders and then tightening her shoelaces.

"All the time?"

"No. How long were you going to let me struggle?"

"I'll use it first - you watch and learn. Get up." Obi then sat facing forward and gripped the handles, admiring the attractive picture Shirayuki made. She stood with hands on hips, her little frown all the more adorable as she chewed her bottom lip. Obi demonstrated five reps. "Now you try."

Shirayuki nodded and sat, gripping the handles tight.

"Relax, no one's gonna try to take them from you!" Obi laid a hand on Shirayuki's shoulder, "Is this too much? There's lots of treadmills we could use instead."

"I've never enjoyed the more complicated gym machines." Shirayuki released her death grip, wiping her hands on her thighs. "I let my competitive nature get the best of me - but I don't mind if you get your workout in. I can get myself home from here." She made to rise, stopped by Obi moving closer - his face, normally so impassive, clearly chagrined.

"Hey, I was a little bit pushy too. But my offer stands - exercising makes for a great release of endorphins." In the back of his mind, Obi wondered how hard Shirayuki would slap him if he suggested the other (and better to his way of thinking) method to achieve peace. Damn, that would be glorious.

"It's been a long week, and I know I've had enough of your company." Shirayuki let a bitter smile twist her lips. "And I'm not in the mood to be babysat further."

"And here I thought we were connecting on a friendship level." Obi joked, forcing gaiety into his voice and actions. He shrugged, taking a big step backward. "Miss Ph.D. is a coward."

"Fine - I'll be running laps on a treadmill and you knock yourself out on that contraption." Shirayuki stood and raised her chin. "You'd better add more weights - after all, it isn't a good workout if you don't struggle."

"Pfft. Thanks for the words of wisdom." Obi watched Shirayuki secure a treadmill, pleased it was close - and began a light gym routine that switched him from machine to machine, all ringing Yuki's treadmill.

An hour of covert spying and exercise later, Obi, drenched in sweat (more from nerves than exhaustion) was dying for a shower. Shirayuki had cooled down from her run twenty minutes ago and was openly staring as Obi continued to use more equipment. Was he a bit of an exhibitionist, or was he pathetic? Why would someone so smart and talented care about him? If nothing else, Obi knew he wasn't that unattractive. Miss Yuki might at the very least decide to slum and sample his wares. Heh, Obi knew he was being ridiculous.

An itch between his shoulder blades made Obi wary. He inspected the perimeter of the gym for suspicious activity; only two men working together, one as a spotter and the other lifting. He'd lived long enough as a bodyguard not to ignore those sorts of sensations. Lived - that was the operative word. Taking a precaution that others deem unnecessary could be the difference between a big fat bonus cheque or riding in place of honour in a funeral procession.

"Babe!" Obi knew Shirayuki would respond - very possibly loudly - immediately.

"Sweetie-nugget," Shirayuki answered through gritted teeth. "Have you lost your mind?" She moved closer, arms crossed.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Babe, you can yell at me later. Right now, you should listen to your man."

Obi stood and placed his hands on Shirayuki's shoulders, leaning within kissing distance. Praying it looked like he was fooling around, Obi whispered instructions. "We're leaving now - and whatever happens, follow my lead."

Her sweet breath tickled his ear, and Obi fought to control his libido. He was a battle-hardened assassin dammit - why did this woman derail him from his purpose?

"I noticed those two guys too - they're both big and bulky but only using half the weights you set for me."

Damn, Shirayuki was every inch a brilliant person. "We want to give them the slip without alerting them. Let's go and allow them to follow - but we'll cut and run once we move past the exit."

Shirayuki giggled, her lips dangerously close to Obi's ear for his peace of mind. Softly, she said, "You'll pay for this later."

"I can live with that." Obi prayed his luck would hold as he gave her a hug. "Might as well run the tab, huh? We'll act like lovers. Can you manage? You want your work badge, right?"

"You know you're dead, right? And yeah, I can't let that fall into the wrong hands. I could cancel it, but ..."

"Later. We'll discuss it later." Obi caught Shirayuki's hand and laced his fingers with hers. Making sure to take slow and easy strides, he lead her to the women's locker room. Taking care to seem oblivious to the two threats, Obi kept his back to them - as if he was totally unconcerned. He fished out his phone and began browsing.

Holding her street clothes and personal possessions to her chest, Shirayuki came out of the locker room. "I'm ready."

Obi kept hold of his phone, pretending to pay attention to that more than where they were going. "My keys are on me - there's nothing else I need to retrieve. Take my arm and play girlfriend, okay?"

Sensing Yuki wanted to argue but knew it wasn't workable now, Obi gave himself a personal bonus. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his hand over where Shirayuki had attached herself to his upper arm. "You're a nasty girl! Can't believe you like knockin' boots before getting clean!"

They were mere steps away from the exit. The two burly men appeared to be discussing which machine to use next - as they ambled closer and closer to the exit as well.

"Takes one to know one!" Shirayuki felt flustered. She knew her reply didn't quite make sense, but it was the best she could currently manage.

In the gym's foyer, Obi hustled his charge down the corridor leading to the front entrance. "Hurry, they'll most likely split to cover both the front and back. If we can get out of sight sooner, so much the better."

Hands on the door, they both heard heavy footfalls pounding closer.

"Shit!" Obi thrust Shirayuki out first and clicked his car remote. Halfway down the block his vehicle chirped and unlocked. "Run faster!"

Obi looked over his shoulder - the larger of the two thugs was fumbling with some kind of sidearm. Together they pelted towards the car, Obi rolling over the hood to take the driver's side and Shirayuki collapsing into the passenger seat.

Two soft 'thwups' made the car shake. "Get down, more!" Obi jammed the key into the ignition and peeled away from the curb, laying smoke and rubber. Three more 'thwups' - dinging the bumper and breaking a tail light.

"I'm gonna have to assume they know where you live - I can't bring you to your home until they're neutralized." Obi glanced at Shirayuki. She was hugging her clothes like her life depended on it. Reaching over slowly, Obi patted her shoulder. "Lucky you, we're besties until this is solved."

"Did they change the definition of lucky? If not my place, then yours? There's got to be a better choice."

Obi was relieved to hear a bit of Shirayuki's attitude make a return. If she could make jokes it meant that she was rebounding from the horror of the two goons shooting at them. "You haven't seen my place, so don't diss my digs."

"Either I make snarky comments or I start freaking out. Your choice, sweetie-nugget." Shirayuki giggled, high-pitched and going higher.

"Call me darling." Obi glanced at his charge - she was caught off-guard by his comment. Now for some more foolishness. "My love, honey, or even dear would be acceptable. But don't call me late to dinner."

Shirayuki realized she was digging her fingernails into her street clothes, ruining them. She released her grip and let them slide down her legs. Only turning her head, she stared at her bodyguard. "You must be joking."

"Not joking." Obi took the next left and zipped down a small street - more of a lane, actually. "Well, a bit. Feeling better?"

"Yeah...I am." Her nerves were still jangling, but more from imagining herself using those endearments on Obi. More exactly, from imagining an intimate encounter with him...bare limbs twisted together...satiated...heated bodies and a climax scream torn from her throat after an hour of foreplay. Was this her body's reaction after encountering danger?

"I've got a defendable safe house - perfect for this situation." Obi let his tone grow jocular as he tested Shirayuki's resilience. "Unless you'd rather run away with me to some decadent top-flight hotel?" He gunned the engine and took a corner with more zip than needed. "Thanks for the silent vote of hell-to-the-no."

Shirayuki shook her head and slumped in her seat. "Take me wherever you need. I'm not going to be thinking and using logic until my heart makes its way back into my ribcage."

"Deal."

To be continued....

[dat-town]

Heartbleed Rhapsody

Characters: Namjoon & You

Setting: witch hunter au

Genre: angst

Warnings: character death, blood, swearing, hint of torture and a bit of madness just like how Connie likes it

Summary: You get caught up in an endless circle of revenge but you, witches has always been vengeful creatures so it tastes sweet like death on your tongue.

Words: 9.1k

For @lthyl​. Not at all Christmas-y but I sincerely hope you like it. Thank you for being an inspiration, an amazing, supportive friend and bless you for being a unique, creative and super talented writer. Not to be cheesy but getting to know you (& the rest of the squad) is one of the things I’m eternally grateful for in 2017. Have a merry Christmas, Connie! ♥

Witches are told to be vicious creatures and you certainly don’t help to prove the rumours wrong.

“You know tying me up leads you nowhere, right? I can still make you cry blood and take your pretty head without my hands,” you sneer at the man tousling you around roughly as if you were merely a ragdoll for his entertainment.

His arrogant behaviour makes your blood boil with anger and turns you into a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Provoking your kind is a dangerous game just like playing with fire and you’re seriously pondering on the methods of death he deserves: suffocation, heart attack, a knife aimed straight at his heart? So bad he can only die once, you would like to watch him bleed out in agony in front of you, begging for forgiveness again and again. A sad pout creeps onto your cold features realizing that the blood would make the job messy and you hate everything that’s not neat.

“Then why don’t you?” the hunter challenges you, a satisfied grin spreading onto his unfairly handsome face as he tugs on the metal chain around your wrist. No matter how hard you press your mouth together, a hiss escapes your throat as your skin is sizzling when the touch of iron burns it.

You turn your head away, the offence tasting bitter in your mouth. Arrogant witch hunters, they act so all-knowing but they know nothing about how magic actually works. But you won’t give this man the advantage to use it against you by enlightening him, so you choose to ignore his remark and raise an eyebrow ever so elegantly at him.

“How do you want me to take you to the Queen without magic though?” you snicker pleased that you found a loophole in his perfect little plan.

As he shoves you against a tree instead of answering, the tree bark against your back scrapes your skin through the flimsy dress you wear and your long, dishevelled hair full of dead leaves falls into your face darkening the world around you.

The witch trap carved deep into the ground you’re standing on keeps you there, at the mercy of the hunter who chased you across the deepest pits of the forest where no sane person dares to step in.  So apparently, this silver-haired man towering over you with a triumphant smirk is just as lunatic as you are.

“Well I have my ways,” his lips twitch in amusement as he takes out a long object with a circular end from his backpack and your eyes unceremoniously widen at the sight.

“No way in hell! You won’t put me on leash,” the protest falls off your lips fiercely and shame is bubbling up in your insides. You are not an animal.

“Did I ask?” the man laughs raucously but his frivolous giggles die abruptly in the air as the rope in his hands transforms into a snake.

“I said no,” you are making your point once again, greatly piqued but this time with more edge in your otherwise light voice and fire in your eyes as dark as the nights of new moon. Your gaze follows the shiny green scaled reptile fondly as it hisses at the hunter and slips out of his hands to disappear in the wildness where it belongs.

“Shit, you crazy witch,” the startled man jumps back, pure shock and panic on his face that conjure light-hearted chuckles out of you.

“I’ve been called way worse,” you shrug nonchalantly because these words have long lost their meaning to you. Humans and their stupid habit of calling you and your kind names.

It all comes down to a pause. It starts with silence, the woods inhaling the essence of life present and everything stands still. No chilly wind, no leaves rumbling, no whispers of forgotten spirits. You feel goosebumps forming on your forearms while the man in front of you doesn’t seem to notice the change. Oh how stupid of him to be so careless and naive. These forests are not for magicless beings like him.

Yet, only when everything else is muted around, this is the first time when you actually pay attention to his rigid pose, his slump shoulders, the hollow of his face and the circles around his eyes. He looks sad like the moon on those nights when it can be heard crying. Melancholy hugs him close like a cloak and the blood on his hands is not just from witches.

“She took my brother. I just want him back,” he mutters into the stillness, more to himself than you, but you hear him and can’t help but wonder:

“You must be pretty bad if you pissed off the Queen like that,” you snort not quite lady-like and then suddenly, it clicks: all that whispering among your fellow witches, the mourning that took over everything like dark clouds on the baby blue sky and the rumours about a man who did the impossible. “Oh don’t tell me! You were the one you killed the princess?”

At first you gasp, almost comically but then a snarky laughter bubbles up in you. It’s quite improper and tactless taken the circumstances but you have never been one to fawn upon the royal court of your kind. You have better things to deal with but look at how funnily the world works: intertwining your string of fate with the hunter’s who is wanted by many in and outside of the witch-ruled areas too.

When the man himself doesn’t even bother to deny the accusation that can cost his head - or even better: his heart ripped out of his chest and planted on a silver planet as a gift to the Queen – you sigh. How can one be so stupid to think they can get away with that? Breaking into the Castle and killing the princess who has just turned eighteen and tasted the first bites of human flesh? A sprout of respect springs into life in your lungs silently that the man is even alive after pulling such an outrageous act. Killing witches for living is one thing but threatening and attacking the royal family? He has surely lost his sane mind.

“Kim Namjoon…” you taste the infamous name on your tongue sweetly, playing with the vowels and consonants like chords on an instruments. You have heard it whispered between the walls enough, it almost feels like a half-forgotten dream. Hearing them rolling off your tongue, the man looks up at you, surprised you heard of him and that’s when you throw a knife at him. Figuratively. “Your brother might not even be alive by now.”

It might sound cruel and insensitive but it’s the truth. Witches are born vengeful, revenge boiling up in their system and turning their blood black to spill. No wonder why the Queen took Namjoon’s younger brother. An eye for an eye, a sibling for a sibling. It’s simple math.

“I don’t care. I have to know,” the hunter insists, determination set in his eyes like gemstones in the cold harsh ground, deep enough to evolve into something beautiful. A purpose, that’s what it is for him, you realize and he won’t change his mind no matter what. Stubborn, stupid human running into the arms of death so carelessly. You almost feel sorry for him but you don’t. Not an ounce especially when he traps you between the tree branches and his body again, the puffs of his heavy breathing dancing on your skin.

“So you either help me or I kill you because you are no use for me otherwise. I guess they would pay hundreds for your pretty head only,” he says through gritted teeth, so cold you shiver.

“You will kill me anyway, don’t cha?” you look straight into his eyes, searching for the deepest pits of his soul but you only see different shades of black: anger, sorrow, pain.

He only needs you to help him get beyond the Castle Gates, to make sure he has a safe in and out but then he will get rid of you like he probably did with that traitor witch who helped him get in the first time. Otherwise he wouldn’t need you now.

“Okay… okay, I will help you,” you sigh theatrically as if you had the upper-hand in this situation even with your wrists tied and your body trapped.

Namjoon lets out a dry laugh.

“I didn’t really give you any other option.”

“But I can make your life hard… or easy. Your choice,” you are acting all charming now, fluttering lashes, sweet smiles but the hunter snorts dismissively mumbling something about being all bark but no bite.

Witches are basically elementals of nature, they can control most natural phenomenons and some are even gifted with special abilities like transforming into a certain animal. Any more than that requires years of practice so Namjoon isn’t really concerned about what a girl like you could do to him but like a wise man said once it’s better to be safe than sorry. He would rather not worry about you killing him in his sleep during your journey.

“Where’s the catch?” he furrows his eyebrows well aware of the tricks of cunning witches so he refuses to let his guards down.

“No catch, I only wish to walk without having to wear a leash, I’m not some animal for fuck’s sake,” you snarl raising your chin high, narrowing your eyes at him daring him to say no, to say something derogative so you can prove him how much it hurts when you really bite.

However, Kim Namjoon isn’t just another stupid huntsman and he knows better than to provoke somebody who bears magic. What a proud womenfolk you are, he muses and sighs.

“But if you are trying with anything…”

“Yeah-yeah, I know the drill: you kill me,” you grimace, voice dripping sarcasm as you watch his practiced fingers unloose a hook and let the metal fall to the floor. It leaves bloody spots behind where it rubbed against your skin but at least, you won’t feel the burn of it. Namjoon still ties your hands together but this time it’s a simple rope, one you can easily get rid of so you don’t complain, just roll your eyes and wait until he erases the witch trap from the ground around you.

The forest is watching, you can tell.

The deeper you go, the more aware you are. It’s warning you, urging you to turn back and leave if you only bring bad luck onto sacred ground. It’s getting angry, you can feel it in your bones, see in the leaves swirling and the weather changing. It’s cold, nearly frosty as dark falls upon you and Namjoon decides it’s time to pitch a camp for the night.

Neither of you talked much while walking except a few bitten back swear words and you don’t intend to change that, yet something has been bugging you for a while and you just have to blurt out:

“Why did you kill the princess? Was it a bet? A deal? Or just challenge?” you acquire further deep into the reasons of a mundane being’s life you have always found so fragile and pitiful. What could have possibly made him want to do such a stupid and dangerous thing?

It’s meant to be an innocent, curious question, however from the way Namjoon’s shoulders tense and the way he spits the words, it must be much more serious than a silly bet.

“You know nothing. Mind your own business,” he snaps at you and turns back to make a fire with the wood he collected from nearby.

You mock him behind his back by imitating his words back to him soundlessly and watch with your back to a tree and a raised eyebrow as he clumsily tries to light a fire. The air is dry, the wind is chilly and wild so the flame keeps flickering and he fails repeatedly. You don’t strain yourself to help him out; you don’t need the warmth anyway.

Your gaze shifts to the moon looming over you and listen to the secrets it tells you. Only a relieved sigh directs your attention back to the blazing fire in front of the hunter. You act like you don’t care but when he pulls out some canned food from his bag, your mouth waters. You haven’t eaten yet that day. However, you are more stubborn than to beg him for some left-overs so you stay quiet, nails marking crescents into your own palms.

It’s your stomach’s grumbling that gives you away at the smell of chicken soup boiling but it surprises you that the man cares at all. You’re prepping yourself for snarky remarks of your magic not helping you out now that you need it but instead the look on Namjoon’s face is simple disdain. He throws a can of vegetable tuna at your feet and you scoff.

“I am still not a dog for you to throw me a piece of bone.”

“Fine then leave it there, I don’t care,” Namjoon shrugs. Something dark flashing in his eyes and his nonchalant behaviour just makes your insides coil in fury.

“My hands,” you protest bringing your tied wrist in front of his face but you only get a headshake.

“Not a chance. Be creative,” he says firmly but you are not willing to dig your face into food like some animal would and you know exactly what can be a good exchange for this small favour.

“If you untie me, I can track your brother down and tell you if he’s still alive at all,” you are bargaining quite fairly in your opinion and the shift in the man’s eyes tells you that he’s also thinking about your offer.

“Can you really?” he suspiciously furrows his brows. “How can I know you won’t lie to me and take me into a trap?”

“You can’t but what place can possibly be more dangerous than the Castle itself where you were originally planning to go?” you remind him and he seems to agree as he gives you a short nod of approval.

“Okay, you can have it off for meals if you can tell me where he is. But if I catch you using any other magic, I will slice your throat,” his threat falls on deaf ears and you can’t fight the satisfied smile setting onto your face.

“Deal,” you consent to his condition and move your hands around a bit after he frees them. “I need something that was your brother’s and your blood. Since you are brothers, it will make the spell work more efficiently.”

Blood magic is one of a kind, really powerful and you are taken aback that the hunter doesn’t even protest or questions your motives. You could use his blood basically for everything, even to control him, yet he puts a little tiger pendant in your outstretched hand so carefully as if it was his most treasured property.

“If he’s dead, just tell me. Don’t play mind games with me,” he orders, or at least he means it as an order but it sounds more like a plea and when you nod, he nods back. You don’t ask what will happen to you if his brother really is dead and not because you’re afraid of the answer but because you know the Queen that much. She likes to play with her victims, to prolong the torment as much as she can.

“How much blood do you need?” Namjoon asks so driven by the need to know, so eager to get over with it, it leaves you a bit astonished.

“Just a drop is enough,” you tell him honest to the truth and watch with hungry eyes as he cuts his palm ever so slightly. You hear his sharp intake as carmine blood is pooling in his palm. “Alright, and now, hold your breath,” you give him a quick warning before putting your free hand palm-to-palm to his while your fist clenches around the medal in the other. Some spells need words, the powerful ones, but this is a fairly simple one, so you only have to concentrate, closing your eyes and finding that string in your mind that leads you to this boy.

Out of nowhere, the dark swallows you down.

You feel the dizziness overtaking you and your vision gets blurry as you search for his soul out there. You feel like running through the wildness bare-foot, the branches hurting your legs but you don’t stop, not until you reach your goal and then it’s getting faster and faster, an impossible speed you’re not able to keep up with and then it feels like falling and colliding into something solid like a wall or the rock bottom of your mind. When everything calms down, the darkness welcomes you and choking, you gasp for air.

“Hey, what is it? What’s happening?” the hunter shakes your shoulder desperately when after panting and mumbling to yourself, you just stop, your eyes popping open, facing the sky. Yet, there aren’t your eyes, there’s nothing from the universe he saw in them there anymore. They are completely white, lacking the rainbow or your iris and the black of your eye. No matter how hard he shakes you or what he tells you it doesn’t seem to reach you wherever you are. He can’t seem to pull you out of the trance that painted pure hurt all over your features. He has never seen anything like that before and it scares him.

“He’s alive but in a lot of pain,” you speak up, voice raw and hoarse, not really yours. The place you see is familiar like you have been there before. You look around but you realize you are not in your own body anymore. It’s a young boy, hands bloody and coughing. He shivers from the cold.

“He… is in a dungeon of some sort. It’s cold and wet. He can hear the water running. He…” your voice cracks at the sound of footsteps and the fear that rushes through the boy and then something pulls your stomach down and your lungs are hurting as if you have been kicked when the spell breaks.

You blink a few times before the haziness dissolves before your eyes and you can see again. The first thing that comes into your view is Namjoon’s worried face in front of you, so mature yet still has the lightest touch of boy-ish features that shouldn’t be possible for a coldblooded killer.

“He what?” he asks, almost begs to fill him out on details but you have nothing more, eyes back to just as normal as it was.

“I lost connection.”

“Then try again,” he demands spitefully, disappointed and desperate which makes you want to punch him or do something worse to him now that your hands are free but instead you just grit your teeth.

“I can’t. If I drain my powers with this I won’t have enough to get you there.”

Maybe it’s the hint in your voice or how confident you sound but the man before you falters a little.

“Do- do you know where he is?”

“Yeah. I know that place. It’s the canal beneath the Castle,” you tell him recalling why the dungeon was so familiar to you. The wet walls, the icy ground, the overbearing pain in the bones and the draining energy that keeps you there. No wonder why you know that place so well. You have been there too many times to count. “Where the Queen keeps the sacrifices.”

The night falls silence after that, both of you eating mindlessly, lost in your thoughts. When it’s time to sleep, the hunter ties your hands once again and you are ready to snicker but the look in his eyes, so out of it, makes you swallow back those words.

Each day you are getting closer to the Castle, crossing enchanted gardens, poisoned valleys on the way. Humans get easily distracted in these darker, magical parts of the forest, they tend to get lost and die out of starvation or dehydration as they are walking around in a circle. Some even go crazy in this labyrinth. That’s why Namjoon needs you: to be his compass, his eyes and ears in a place where nothing is as it seems. Lucky for him, the source of your own witch blood is calling you home to demean yourself before the Queen.

Most days are the same, silent and gloomy. But sometimes, like now, it’s full of laughter, at least on your part.

“It just pissed on me,” the hunter complains in a high voice just like a school girl would.

“You deserve it,” you tell him sharp-fanged as you watch him wiping off the bird poop off his coat in disgust.

“I swear these birds hate me,” he mutters and you almost laugh out loud. Well, he isn’t entirely wrong about that.

“Come on, don’t whine! They are just birds,” you tease and smile sweetly when a sparrow sits on your shoulder in such a calm manner no normal bird would. It even takes the fruits you offer from your hands.

Namjoon watches the scene unfold before him and suddenly, all his unfortunate encounters with the animals and why they picked up on him makes more sense. He doesn’t comments on it and scrunches his nose persuading himself that he is not whiny, not at all. But it can be irritating when a dozens of birds fly by just past his head or even poop on him. Nothing serious, just bad pranks as if they were merely projection of the chaotic emotions of the witch whose name he still doesn’t know of and neither cares for.

You walk further into the right direction, only one more day trip away from the Castle, when suddenly, passing by a calm river, your steps halt abruptly and frantic you turn back to grab Namjoon’s jacket’s collar.

“Let me go!” you scream at him but in that moment, he doesn’t hear the panic in your voice, nor feels the ground shaking beneath his boots or the clouds darkening the sky.

“What? No! You just pissed an hour ag…” he huffs and this time you actually slap him right in the face which successfully makes him shut up.

“Not that, you stupid human. Something is coming for us, can’t you tell? It will kill us both if you won’t untie me… like right now,” you only add the last words urgently when both of you hear the unearthly wailing coming from the dirty water.

“What the fuck is this?” Namjoon gapes as the sounds of hooves clattering echoes through the area.

“A kelpie or maybe there’s more. And in case you can’t tell, I hate them,” you enlighten him as you both struggle to get that damn rope off around your wrists. “Oh come on!”

The hunter, finally understanding the seriousness of your situation, pulls out his jack-knife to cut the rope off of you while you look beneath his shoulders and see a horse-form emerging from the water.

“Hurry up,” you urge him a bit hysterically which doesn’t make you proud at all but you have quite a bit of history with these malevolent spirits and you don’t want the past to repeat itself. A kelpie’s bite takes months to heal and it hurts like hell in the meantime.

Before the knife could cut through the rope, you feel the full-force attack that sends both of you flying in the air before falling to the ground with a loud, painful thud. You stumble to your feet but the beautiful silver horse kicks you so hard, you can’t breathe for a second and there’s no way you can get a hold of its bridle to control it without the proper use of your hands.

Think, think, you groan, tasting grass and mud in your mouth as the kelpie keeps shoving you away with its body until you feel overly exhausted and your whole body is sore. It’s only then when this monster turns around setting its attention to the next victim being Namjoon with his knife pulled out ready for fight.

However, to his great surprise, the magnificent horse transforms into an overly gorgeous, completely naked woman right in front of him. His jaw drops and his grip on the weapon falters while the blonde beauty walks towards him so enthralling and captivating. He’s not against hurting the other gender, taken his job as a witch hunter, he also needs to be like that but there’s something about this woman that makes him speechless and unable to raise his hand to strike down when she steps in front of him.

“Brave human, you have come so far in the witches’ land. I haven’t seen a man in so long,” she whispers coyly, eyelashes flattering and with a soft hand, she caresses his face ever so gently.

“Who are you exactly?” Namjoon blurts out struggling to even speak with the lump forming in your throat.

“My name is Simona and I’m the spirit of this river, the guard of this border,” a spirit that seems to be absolutely shameless about the fact that she’s walking around naked, Namjoon almost chokes on his spit.

“What border?” he blinks not quite understanding what they are talking about or even why. It feels like every clearheaded and reasonable thoughts flew out of his mind leaving him dumbstruck and silly to stare at the stunning creature.

“The border of the Witch Queen’s Castle,” she answers with a lovely smile, stroking his jawline with a feather-like touch and adds a bit suggestive: “Do you want to cross the river?”

“Yeah, I…” the man blurts out clearly remembering his purpose of reaching the Castle for some reason. There must have been a reason why but he seems to forget that, it must have been important though, if he had come such a long way. Yet, his answer is quite uncertain as he faintly recalls he had a companion on this journey. But who? Gosh, his memories are so foggy.

“Let me,” Simona smiles lovely as ever and takes his hand leading him into the dark waters of the river.

Watching Namjoon, a most likely skilled witch hunter being hypnotized by another spirit leaves you in disbelief and if it wasn’t a life or death situation you might laugh but your throat feels dry as you still struggle with your handcuffs. You might have promised him not to use your power when he doesn’t allow you explicitly but you won’t die because of his stupidity.

“Oh screw it,” you mutter giving up on stupid, useless mundane methods and gather enough willpower to burn the rope into ashes. The flames only tickle your skin, it doesn’t hurt at all, the fire you create never hurts you. However, kelpies are a whole different story.

You act on impulse, not giving space for changing your mind, pondering over options, you simply lunge forward shooting fireballs to the woman’s form waist-deep in the water already. She howls as it burns her skin and flashes her sharp teeth turning around to face you. Her pretty features turn into something hideous, monster-like but you are not scared, not at all.

“Come on! Come and get me,” you provoke her sending a bunch of sparrows at her to peck her skin until she doesn’t have any other choice than to transform back into a horse. Just what you wanted.

“Namjoon, get the bridle,” you shout at the man you stands with one leg into the water, still dazed and utterly confused. You sigh, it seems you have to do anything yourself, nothing new.

The horse gallops towards you so fast, you jump out of its way in the very last moment. You giggle out loud at the sound of the animal’s annoyed huff. You repeat the same trick twice but the next time when it attacks, you use your levitation skills to helps you get on its back and grab the handle.

“Never mess with a witch,” you growl as the horse calm under you, unwillingly but giving you full control. Just like stories tell: a kelpie’s only weak point is its bridle, and if you can catch that, you can control the creature on your own accord.

You trot slowly towards the shocked hunter and pat the horse’s butt. “Get up big boy before I leave your ass here.”

“What happened? I think I totally blacked out,” he utters confused.

“The kelpie seduced you and she was going to lure you into the water to kill you,” you explain patiently because you know that the first meeting with a kelpie can be overwhelming. “Don’t worry, she means no danger anymore.”

Namjoon nods, trying to process what happened while he climbs up to sit on the horse behind you. His broad, solid chest presses against you back and his breath brushes your ear.

“Thanks. You could have just let me die,” you feel vibrations through his body as he speaks and when the horse crosses the river climbing out of the ditch, his strong hands grab on your waist to keep himself from falling.

"I’m not heartless, you know,” you bite the words tasting iron in your mouth. You would like to believe you really aren’t. Sure, you have killed before, you have hexed people, you didn’t care for what purposes others used your potions. This is what you are, a witch, and this is how you are expected to behave. Humans don’t expect more or anything better from you, they have already concluded that your kind is nothing but monsters. Why would you do anything to prove that? Why can’t you just live with it: not going against their prejudices, doing the monstrous things they will blame on you anyway?

The witch hunter hums from behind you as the horse sets a nice tempo towards the coldest and darkest part of the enchanted forest lacking natural sunlight filtered through the leaves.

"That’s why you are helping me?” he asks in a soft voice that almost pains your heart.

Trust, you recall the name of this stupid mundane thing, this mistake he’s making right now. People tend to see the good even in the devil himself if they showed they are capable of that. They foolishly think it will change anything but here’s the trick: the evil chooses to not be good. It’s a decision, not some aftermath of a series of events with unpredictable consequences. The evil chooses to not be good because they are selfish and always look out for themselves first.

“You didn’t give me much choice, remember?” you snort remembering his own words, using them against him. Yet, it doesn’t work the way you wanted. Namjoon doesn’t tease you about being so helpless completely at his mercy but contemplating on the chances.

“We both know you can easily find a way-out,” he says, so confident in his remark it surprises you. Yes, you really could have run away a long time ago if you really wanted to but chose not to because the outcome interests you and you have always been there for good drama.

However, it means Namjoon is well aware that you are a good liar and he sees right through it. He sees the ugliest parts of you, yet chooses to trust you with his life just because you saved him from an even meaner monster than yourself.

“Well maybe I don’t really fancy the court’s stupid traditions or the Queen herself for that matter,” you shrug nonchalantly, not caring whether he believes you or not. To avoid any further misunderstanding, you add: “You are not special, I would help anyone to piss off the Queen.”

It’s not necessarily true but he doesn’t need to know that. Even so you have that stinky feeling in the back of your throat telling you that he already knows you are lying, that there’s something else, something more behind your words, this confident facade you wear. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just gently holds onto your waist while you ride the kelpie through the forest.

The moon shines bright above by the time you reach a lake on the periphery of the ramous trees. The silver rays glimmer in the water as you sink down from the horse carefully tying its bridle to one of the strongest trees in your surroundings to make sure it doesn’t run away or attack you again. From here, if you look hard, you can see the grandiose tower of the Castle overlooking the whole neighbourhood. From here, it doesn’t take much to get there, and you know, by tomorrow noon, you will arrive.

"Wanna get cleaned first?” a rough voice jolts you out of your deep thought and when you turn around, you are faced with the messy haired, dirty handed but considerate eyed man. After thrown into the dirt, neither of you is the epitome of cleanness, although you’re sure you look worse than the hunter. After all, it was you who was kicked all over the ground.

“Uh… sure. Don’t look,” you clear your throat but only when you’ve checked everything, searching for traces of magic activity and that Namjoon is with his back to you, that’s when you begin to cast off your dirty clothes one by one: the corset over your ruined white shirt and leather pants tugged into worn boots.

You let out a pleased sigh as the fresh, clear water touches your bare skin and you have fun producing bubbles with your power in the river’s dead end when you’ve sunk neck-deep. You feel like a child playing in the pool at ease, forgotten about tomorrow when death can come for you.

“You can turn back,” you tell Namjoon quietly, admiring his gorgeous bodyline as he leans over a tree resting his head on his own shoulder. He looks taken aback by the offered opportunity but doesn’t make it a bigger deal than it is so he takes a hundred-eighty turn. However, what he sees, takes his breath away. You dark hair sprawling around you on the water’s surface like a grown completely embracing you. Only your shoulders and head stick out of the dark waters, everything else is hidden by the bubbling liquid yet the man can’t help but gulp, desperately and hopelessly trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

What is this wicked game you are playing with his heart and mind? Why are being so gorgeous and irresistible even without trying? Why does he have to be attracted to you so much that he has to grab the tree for support? Why can’t he see you as the scratchy witch you were in his eyes only a few days ago? Why is it that when he looks at you, now he hears your giggles, the dulcet melody of your voice and sees deep secrets in chestnut brown eyes instead of the blood he used to associate with you? Maybe it’s because you are undeniable beautiful which is a siren skill of witches, so he swore he wouldn’t fall for that. And yet…

Yet, there’s something lurking in his heavy chest telling him you are different. But how so? He doesn’t quite know.

“What’s your name?” he takes a few tentative step towards the pool, towards you as you prop yourself on your elbows, resting your chin on the back of your hand, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“My name?” you echo as if have never heard this question before which Namjoon finds ridiculous. You do have to have a name. He doesn’t want to call you ‘The Witch’ in his head anymore.

“Yeah. What do they call you?” he specifies as he sits down on a rock next to the water only two arm-lengths away from you.

For someone who is said to be one of the bests of his field and must have seen enough about witches to fill a book with his experience, but he doesn’t even know this simple thing. Maybe because he’s more like a ‘first act and then ask’ kind of hunter and he’s never had a chance before to ask the question.

“Don’t you know that witches’ names are powerful things? We don’t give them out to anyone,” you tell him truthfully. The thing about witches’ names, knowing the proper spell everybody could summon them whenever they wanted which could be quite inconvenient and you would like to avoid that.

“Oh,” he breathes as you find yourself wishing to hear him say your name even if you know it’s stupid.

So silence follows, a void lacking heartbeats, the music of the night and a confession stolen from your lips.

“You asked me why I killed the princess…” Namjoon starts, his gaze fixated on the silver reflection of the moon on the lake. The haunting grief and sadness in his eyes makes your throat close up so your interrupt him:

“And you were right: it’s none of my business. I don’t even really care about our royalty,” you rush to stop him from talking because you’re not sure you’re ready for the explanation. You suddenly don’t want him to tell you his reasons, fearing they would you feel things, giving your cold heart even more trouble.

“The coming-of-age ceremony. The first time when you spill blood. How was it?” he asks out of nowhere, catching you off guard with the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you.

Guilt trapped in your throat, you look away with piercing eyes. Murder poisons the mind, they say and this is exactly what you need. Witches are not necessarily born evil, but they can’t reach their full potential if they don’t kill. That’s why all of you have this morbid celebration on your 18th birthday.

“I… I don’t remember much.” The words stumble out of your mouth in a twisted way.

A lie.

You remember all too clearly. On wild nights you still have nightmares about it, about faceless people all screaming. The more you kill, the easier it is but it doesn’t make sleeping at night easier.

Namjoon nods seemingly believing you but the bitter edge remains in his voice as he continues:

“She did. She told me she enjoyed ripping my older brother’s heart out, that it smelled just as deliciously as he tasted,” he says and ah, so it has been a never-ending circle of bloodshed and revenge all along…

You want to say something but words die in your mouth. Sorry would taste sour on your tongue and like a white lie anyway. Killing is in your nature and you refuse to be sorry for what you are even if it means you are no better than the princess he killed.

So in the end you say nothing but it seems good enough. You stay as you are until you feel numb from the cold water. This time you don’t tell him to turn around when you emerge to the surface and you feel his eyes on you burning holes in your skin, deep to the core. You shiver and blame it on the chilly wind.

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night because lying down by the campfire, you realize he hasn’t even mentioned that you should have your hands tied together again.

The difference about the next morning isn’t the silence, isn’t the thick and tangible tension in the air between you, it’s the feeling of the beginning of the end. Something will definitely change for good once yoou reach the Castle’s gates. There will be no more reason to stick together, it’s an every man for himself situation after all and you shouldn’t have joined this rescue anyway.

Namjoon was right, you could have easily left, you could have continued on living your ordinary life as a town witch casting spells and brewing potions. You could have left him alone to dive into the canal searching for his kidnapped younger brother. You had literally no reason to stay but you did.

Why? The question stuck in the hunter’s mind without any reasonable answer. Do you pity him? Do you want your own revenge on the Queen? Do you… ? He keeps asking himself without end but the thing is: he doesn’t know you, not at all.

"Namjoon…” you call his name softly and your voice resonates in the long canal along with your footsteps’ wet splashes.

“Yeah?” he says non-committedly, not even looking back until the next ambiguous words leave your mouth:

“Remember when I warned you that you can’t tell apart the truth and the lies I tell?”

“Whaa-”

The moment the hunter turns to you, he’s blown in the face with some glittering substance that makes him dizzy in the head and wobbly on the legs. He slowly blinks as the grounds sinks under his feet.

His head is pounding, all pain and stars on a cement ceiling, when he opens his eyes next. He feels like his head is swimming, body heavy, almost drowning and it takes a while to realize his position seated on a chair, head fallen back staring at the chandelier. The candles’ lights are flickering but there’s something else strange about them although the man can’t really put his finger on it. Until the very moment he feels blood drops dripping down and covering his face in crimson.

Then it all clicks and the hysterical laughter wakes him up completely.

“Well-well, Kim Namjoon, back into my Castle, just like how I wanted,” the Queen breaks into a fit of giggles flashing her sharp teeth between her Bordeaux wine coloured lips. The ginger of her hair falls onto her pale shoulders unhidden by her flaunting dress and her nails are ruby red like the blood she spilled and the apple she holds in one hand.

They are in the throne room of the Witch Castle, made of bones and blood, and Namjoon clenches his hands into fists but can’t move any further. He’s immobile, can’t even nudge an inch as if he was glued to the chair but he knows he’s under a spell, one he isn’t able to break out of, not if the Queen herself casted it on him.

“You wanted to see me here? Then why dragging my brother into this?” he growled putting all his hatred into the spoken words while his insides wanted to fight, to break everything in this damn place.

“Oh but you know why very well. Don’t act silly. I just wanted you to suffer like I did,” the witch replies tongue darting out to wet her lips that are pulled into a knowing smirk next, one that sends shivers down the now powerless hunter’s back.

“You don’t have a heart to suffer like this,” he spits and gulps back his questions about Taehyung and the girl that brought him here. What happened to her? Did they get her too? Or… wait! Was she the one behind this all the way long?

“Then should I say: I don’t like losing?” the Queen chuckles, crossing her legs in an elegant and lazy manner like she had all the time in the world. Maybe she does or she’s just enjoying the show he’s putting up. “You have no idea how much fun I had watching your pathetic attempts of finding a witch stupid enough to betray me. What did you think when all of them rather killed themselves than to help you?”

“They fear you,” the hunter rasps remembering all the agony he saw on the witches’ faces that willingly set themselves on fire just so he can’t force them to this impossible heist. You were actually the first one he caught who went along with his plan after putting up a bit of a fight.

“Right they do. I despise traitors especially after what happened. But you were so cute trying and not giving up, I sent somebody to lead you here, so we can finally meet.”

“Why didn’t you just come to meet me then? Why all the fuss about it?” Namjoon grunts, arms hurting from the force he puts into moving them without any result.

The Queen is madness itself as she claps her hands dramatically.

“Oh honey but I loved the show! Watching you falling in love with one of my kind, oh I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

The forest has eyes and ears, villagers warned him before he set a foot onto the unholy ground of the off-spring of seven devils, the Kingdom of Witches.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the man mumbles, throat dry and lips chapped but the quickening in his heartbeat gives him away. You can’t lie to a witch. They are the best liars out there, they will know as soon as you open your mouth to speak.

“Ah of course, you don’t,” the Queen shakes her head kindly like an elementary teacher would react to a child’s naive answer. However, the lovely smile just like the sparks in her eyes disappear in a blink of an eye and dark shadows arise on the wall as the royal witch steps down from her throne. Her pupils are blown black with intent and her approaching steps are rigid as the coldest winter while a beautiful dagger with gilded grip forms in her hands.

“You have called, your Majesty?”

A door suddenly opens before she could make her way in front of Namjoon and his head falls forward at the familiar voice. He can’t believe his ears though, you of all people calling the Queen so formally, so polite? Where is the girl from the woods who said she didn’t care about their royals?

“Yes, I did. Bring the boy, too,” the elder witch commands with a knowing grin and the hunter’s heart clenches at the sight of his baby brother with ugly bruises over his face, teeth marks on his neck and bloodspots all over his torn, white shirt.

“Taehyung!” He cries out but his sibling doesn’t pay him much attention, he probably doesn’t even hear him or he thinks it’s another just hallucination, a mind game of these witches. He seems overly fatigue as he rests most of his weight on you next to him. Namjoon is getting angrier every minute, thinking about your betrayal and what your kind had done to his brother. And maybe this is exactly what the Queen craved.

“I have a proposal for you, little hunter, and I’m very, very curious of your decision,” she whispers in a voice like silk and velvet as she places the knife into the man’s awaiting hands. Then she steps behind his chair, her fingers playing on his tense, sore shoulders, her tongue drawing a wet slide across his neck and her teeth tugging at his earlobe. “Kill her and I set your brother free. You two can walk away unharmed.”

“What? We haven’t agreed on this,” you shriek your ears catching onto the muttered words wide-eyed. You haven’t put up with all the trouble for this. “You told me if I bring him here, all charges against my family will be dropped.”

A handful of rebels, that’s your family, a few of them sitting down, in the canal cells waiting for their deathbed. You are their only hope and the solemn reason why you are doing this is to get them out of the trouble they caused. But looking face-to-face with death in the form of Kim Namjoon isn’t something you planned. Sure, you were ready for a cocky witch hunter with a desire to kill anything like you but being a freaking dartboard in the throne room is a whole other story. You didn’t sign up for this.

“And it will be done. However, we never discussed anything about your well-being,” the Queen answers in a honeyed voice, too sweet, too fake. You are just about to drop Taehyung’s faint body and run for your life because you can’t fight both the Witch Queen and a witch hunter but the crazy royal freezes you at your place with an elegant wave of her hand.  "Ah-ah, nope. Don’t do anything stupid.“

You feel her magic draining yours making it absolutely impossible to fight back. You can only press your lips into a straight line and wait for your destiny to come and get you.

"Why are you hesitating, little hunter? Isn’t she just another one on your long list? Kill her,” the Queen provokes Namjoon nudging him out of his seat and you watch in fear mixed with awe as he’s approaching you with confident steps and an iron dagger in his right hand. His expression is unreadable but the way he tightens his hold around the weapon tells it all. He’s mad, he has every right but you can’t tear your gaze apart from him.

“So it was all a set-up, a plan to lure me here while I thought it’s my doing?” he asks coldly, looking straight into your dark eyes and his words are daggers the just hit the bullseye of the target.

“Sorry,” you mumble the only thing you can think of and even this taste like acid in your mouth.

“Yeah, me too,“ Namjoon simply sighs when he stops merely a step away from you. He spares a glance at his almost unconscious brother and then raises the knife face-level ready to strike.

The next thing you know is falling.

The pain only registers when your knees hit the granite ground, hard.

You watch with mouth open as the dagger thrown by Namjoon sinks deep in the Queen’s chest, burning her skin, making her scream. The shock of the attack makes her lose the intensity and control over her power and you feel your limbs moving again. The Queen is screaming and you can no longer tell apart her hysterical laughs and painful sobs as she tears the knife out of her burnt skin. The whole room shakes by her rage and you don’t hesitate to shove her against a wall with your will-power before she could do anything else.

The Queen is supposed to be the strongest out of all witches but she has her weaknesses: she’s arrogant, she thinks she’s better than anybody and she doesn’t like to share her victory hence the empty throne room except her, two hunters and a rebel girls. Too bad that the chances are not on her sides now.

"I will kill you all,” she sneers bleeding black onto the carpet crawling towards you and Namjoon cries out and doubles over as if he was in pain. It’s all in his mind but you know that’s the hardest to fight.

“Try better, bitch,” you snap at her sending a wildfire her way but to your surprise she blocks it easily. You expected her to be weakened more but the change of plans has you gulping nervously as she shoots shurikens at you. Luckily only one of them scrapes your arm leaving a sharp burn behind but the rest of the weapons stand still in the wall. You levitate them back to her at the same time Namjoon succeeds in overcoming the manipulation and stabs the Queen from behind, right in the heart or at least where it’s supposed to be.

You watch her crumbling onto the floor, rattling, eyes rolling back until nothing but dust is left behind and gasping you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?” the hunter rushes towards you, squatting before you, taking your face into his hands so gentle like you were made of the finest porcelain. The worry in his eyes and the cut on his face makes you feel unworthy of such a special treatment. No matter how lunatic the Queen was, she was right about one thing: you are just another witch. What makes you so different in Namjoon’s eyes?

“Yeah I’m…” you reply but the word ’fine’ is stuck in your throat and instead blood bubbles up from your mouth weeping down to the dirty floor as you feel your lungs collapse in your chest and it burns, the sudden lack of oxygen. The darkness dotted with white spots envelopes you and you can’t breathe.

“Tae, no!”

You hear Namjoon shouting but it all happens so fast. The iron pierced through your cold, old heart and as soon as the dagger is pulled out, your body is wearing away. Just like all witches, who lived longer than they deserve, do.

Taehyung, who is standing behind your lifeless remains, grey ashes, with the deadly weapon still in his hands and blood and sweat all over his clothes, blinks in confusion.

“She’s just a witch.”

“No, she…” Namjoon opens his mouth to speak, too shocked from the sudden turns of events but he can’t. How could he explain this to Taehyung? That you were so much more than just another evil witch of the town? “I didn’t even know her name.”

It’s sad, aching like the grief he shouldn’t feel but he doesn’t let it weight him down. He hauls Taehyung into his arms in a tight hug, glad he found him alive but they both know they have to go before other witches arrive and discover the mess they made.

As they flee, Namjoon fights the urge to turn back, conquering the useless hope of seeing you alive and he refuses to shed tears for the girl who saved his life in more than one sense.

Three months later

It’s been a while since the last time Namjoon walked around so freely in a forest. But this one is nothing like back there under the gloomy sky surrounding the pits of Hell. This one is calm, cheerful, the birds are chirping and squirrels run up and down the trees. This one is far and far away from that dark place he used to know as his home and now he’s building a new one here. He’s trying to lead a normal life, taking his brother to university every day and working in a bookstore, warning children who are fascinated by fantasy novels that those stories might turn out to be real so better be careful.

There’s nobody around, just him yet Namjoon doesn’t feel alone. It’s that phantom feeling of being watched but for once, it’s not creeping him out, he rather welcomes the odd sensation. He sits down on a bench covered by autumn leaves with a book in his lap and looking up he sees the sparrows that follow him everywhere, settling down on a tree. He smiles fondly at the tiny birds and turns back to his reading about a love that never happened.

[chronicfangirling]

Crystal Snow (Hoseok ver.) - Heart Crystal

Pairing: Hoseok x OC Genre: Romance, encounters with beautiful idols, impromptu dates, Christmas kisses--no mistletoe necessary, koi no yokan, love and its possibilities Words: 2499 Summary: Taking a flight to Shanghai as a chance passenger and risking deportation to attend an unlicensed party for the sake of dancing with one Jung Hoseok? Totally worth it.

Crystal Snow (Christmas with hyung line) Seokjin ver. | Yoongi ver. | Hoseok ver. | Namjoon ver.

(2017 December 24)

"I can't believe you let Kim Seokjin go to that ice princess! You know how the Shanghainese would say his name? 'Zhen'--for treasure--meaning you let the grand prize slip out of your hands."

"Nuh-uh!" Hyejoon wagged a finger at her supervisor's face then traipsed down the street, ahead of their group. "Seokjin-oppa was meant to go with her, and I'm meant to come here. He may be a prince, but he's not my prince. My grand prize is out there somewhere, I can feel it."

Ducking into the dark maze of back alleys after Hyejoon, her long-suffering supervisor winced. "Is that why we're heading to that unlicensed night club with a bunch of teens instead of celebrating like proper adults?"

"I guess I'm just nostalgic..." Hyejoon mused. "You know, when I was in school, I once went to this rave--"

"And it was dispersed by the police and you were nearly booked as a juvenile delinquent, but some dude saved you." Her supervisor sighed. "You've told this story many times."

"It's my favorite story after all," she giggled.

The rest of her co-workers all sighed as well, saying that she should've gotten rid of all her rebellious impulses as a child, rather than drag them into a dodgy party in Shanghai and get them all deported. Hyejoon imagined that flight attendants always had such wild adventures on their trips, but they were ground staff after all... still, she wanted to do something crazy for Christmas Eve 2017. She waved her phone containing alert of the party--she just had a good feeling about it.

When they finally found the place, it was at the height of an impromptu couple dance contest. Hyejoon clapped for the current performer, but her hands went still and silent when she caught sight of the man across the dance floor. Bopping his head to the song, even his little graceful gestures seemed timed to the beat. The dance ended with an insane death drop, and he smiled in appreciation--not even the bucket hat obscuring his face could hide the radiance of that smile... like a ray of sunshine in the dim club.

"Hey, want to dare me to enter the contest with that guy?" Hyejoon suggested.

Her supervisor goggled at her. "Umm, no--"

"Well, if you insist!" She fluffed up her hair, free of its usual work-regulation bun for once, and checked that her sequined dress clung at all the right places before she sashayed towards him.

"We totally didn't!" her coworkers yelled after her.

Slipping past the next couple taking their places on the dance floor, Hyejoon smirked at them over her shoulder. "I'm not someone who'll ever back down of a challenge!"

She reached the man, belatedly noticing that he was surrounded by a bunch of suited companions. He himself wore sweater and jeans for a more casual look--but she could tell that they were rather expensive. "Hi!" Waving with both hands and bowing at the same time, Hyejoon greeted the man.

"Oh, hello!" he replied. Up close, he was almost literally shining--beyond his good looks, it was his bright aura that attracted her, like a moth to a flame.

I think I know now... why I ended up here in Shanghai.

"Why don't you enter the contest with me?" she asked.

He tugged the bucket hat lower on his head. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on!" She winked. "Don't worry so much about it, I won't bring you down."

His companions snickered about him being popular anywhere, and he shushed them before turning back to her. "Uh... I'd much rather just watch right now."

"Aww, but--" Hyejoon patted his hand and he snatched it away. He was slouching in his seat now, as if in hiding, and she realized now that his demurring wasn't out of hesitation, but an actual rejection. "Oh... okay. I'm so sorry. I just... thought there would be good results if the two of us worked at it together." She forced herself to simper cheerfully as she bowed in apology and tiptoed on the edge of the dance floor to rejoin her coworkers.

But they were nowhere to be found in their previous spot, and a couple more performances passed before they tottered back to her, red-cheeked and giddy. Clearly, they each had a shot--or five--to loosen up. "Where were you?" She pouted, unhappy that she was now the only sober one.

"We got some liquid courage for you, crazy girl, not that you need it!" Her supervisor pushed two cocktails in her hands. "And we told the DJ to play that song you're always dancing to."

Hyejoon choked on her drink. "Wait, what? But I'm not dancing--"

To her chagrin, the host was already announcing her as the final entry: "Kim Hyejoon and her partner!"

Sufficiently buzzed, her coworkers whooped and tossed her out into the dance floor. The crowd cheered--then groaned when she attempted to leave, motioning to the glasses still in her hands. Someone relieved her of her drinks and shoved her out again.

The first strains of 'If you leave' floated from the speakers and Hyejoon gawked at the crowd, which was first hushed, then grumbling in discontent as she remained frozen. One partygoer booed and while she was still mentally debating fight versus flight, someone tugged at her hand.

She gasped and found herself pressed against the chest of the shining young man from earlier. "There will be good results if we work at it together." He gave her a small smile as her eyes widened; in shock, in realization, then in hope. He nodded at her. "Ready?"

He twirled her into place beside him, and Hyejoon surrendered to muscle memory to take her to the correct stance. They danced in unison, with the exact same moves, as if they had practiced together hundreds of times before. She let the music take her over, arms popping and feet sliding across the floor. Her partner danced at a level far above hers, but she didn't let that worry her, and enjoyed moving to the rhythm.

The song wound down, and instead of moving to the last stance, he took her hand again--she had felt it coming and was ready for him, and half-dipped, supported by his arms. The crowd went wild but they hardly heard it as they beamed at each other, basking in the rush of the dance.

The host stopped them from leaving and called back all the other couples. Despite the enthusiastic response to their dance, the death drop couple took the win.

"It's okay, Hyejoon, you did great!" her coworkers cheered. "You too, Hyejoon's partner! You were awesome!"

The host distributed participation prizes for all the ladies. Excited, Hyejoon opened the little red velvet box and found a pair of earrings, adorned with heart-shaped crystals. "How pretty!" she exclaimed. Grinning coyly at her partner, she leaned close enough for him to breathe in her perfume. "Could you put it on for me?"

He didn't respond to her blatant flirting, but he took the earrings and carefully put them on her ears, not poking her unnecessarily even once.

Hyejoon tilted her head, feeling the crystals swinging. "How do they look?"

Her partner's smile evaporated and he winced. "Sorry..."

She cringed. "Oh no, does it look that bad?"

"No, you're pretty," he clarified. "But you only got the consolation prize because of me."

"Nuh-uh. I wasn't sure earlier but..." She gripped the rim of his bucket hat, giving him a chance to protest, before pulling it off to fully reveal his handsome face. "You're Jung Hoseok. I'm right, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Seemingly bashful, he scratched at the nape of his neck. "How...?"

"I'd know those moves anywhere--bursting with power but flowing seamlessly." she gushed. In a quieter voice,  she revealed: "I've always wanted to dance with you."

"I see," he chuckled.

"And I did. You--" She tapped his chest, right upon his heart. "--are my grand prize." She gazed into his eyes, wondering if she had enough courage left over to kiss him, but her reverie was interrupted by the entire club thrown into a commotion.

"Ack, it's the police!" people screamed.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Hyejoon shrieked. She watched her coworkers rush off and turned to Hoseok, who was waving for his companions to go while they can.

She was clutching at his sleeve and he peeled her hand off--she thought he would slap it away and make his escape--but he grasped it securely. "Can you trust me?"

She nodded. "Of course!'

Walking, Hoseok led her into the street, and she was about to ask why he wasn't hurrying, but he pressed a finger upon his lips for silence. Hoseok walked right into a bunch of policemen who all yelled for them to halt.

"Oh, thank God!" He shouted in English. "We're lost, me and my girlfriend, please help!" He crowded them, loudly asking for directions to the nearest McDonald's until the annoyed policemen finally waved for them to leave. It was only when they were rounding the corner that one of the policemen brought up their fancy clothing and how they had smelled of cigarette smoke and alcohol, and chased after them. But Hoseok led her into a niche between two buildings and they crouched in the shadows as the policemen ran past.

They had barely gone when Hyejoon gave way to emotions bursting in her chest: nervousness, shock, and above all, mirth. "Hah... hahahah!" she cackled.

He gaped at her, as if she had lost her mind. "I don't mean to offend you, but this isn't an appropriate time to be laughing." He shook his head. "What terrible luck to lose a contest and then get caught in a raid."

"No, it's the best luck!" she insisted. "I mean, some people might say, that it's bad luck that the two times I've gone to an illegal party, they both got busted by the police--"

"I hate to tell you this and ruin your good mood, but that is pretty bad luck, yeah." Hoseok wrinkled his nose.

"However!" She bopped the end of his chiseled nose. "Both times I got saved by someone truly amazing."

Leaning against the cruddy wall with no care for her party dress, Hyejoon closed her eyes, as the memories came flooding back. "Gwangju, summer of 2009, there was a party hosted by the most popular dance groups in town." She watched his face for any signs of listlessness, but when he cocked his head to listen, she continued. "At that time, I fought a lot with my parents because no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up as average and that wasn't good enough for them. For once, I wanted to rebel. So I went there."

She snorted at the mental image of her awkward teenage self. "In my average way, I could follow a rhythm but the very best dancer there--he encouraged everyone to let go and pour their feelings into dance."

"And that was when you discovered how much you liked it?" he prompted.

"Yes! It didn't matter that I wasn't a talented dancing star, it was fun." she affirmed. "But then the police came because of reports of underage drinking. I nearly got caught but that same dancer rescued me."

"While we were hiding, just like this, I cried and cried... saying that my parents would never let me back home then, and that I should let the police catch me because it's not like I'll amount to anything--I'll always be the unspecial, ordinary, average me." She shuffled closer to him. "But do you know what he said?"

Hoseok blinked at her, and ventured: "'If you don't work hard, there won't be good results...' was it?"

"You remember?" Giggling, she pointed at herself. "It's me, Kim Hyejoon... I was the girl you saved that time."

His face fell. "... Sorry. I don't remember," he murmured, wringing his hands and looking down at them. "It's just something I say to people all the time."

"It's okay." She caressed his arm and when he glanced up, she smiled. "It doesn't matter that you've forgotten, that I'm only one of the many people you said it to. Because it was what I really needed to hear at that time, so I kept those words in my heart."

"You ended up making your parents proud?" he asked.

"No way!" she pealed in laughter. Noticing Hoseok's confused, slightly horrified frown, she added: "But I also realized that my 'good results' could be different from someone else's good results. Some days, just surviving is good enough. And if I can be happy for that day, then I've also done well."

He stared at her for long moments, pondering her words. Finally, he chuckled. "Then, you're wiser than I could ever be."

"That's why, I want to thank you." she said. Her hand moved down his arm, patting his hand.

"I should be the one to thank you." He took her hesitating hand and squeezed it. "Thank you. Those words that I scattered like seeds in the wind... thank you for letting them root in your heart."

"No matter how many times you forget... I'll always remember," she promised.

Shaking his head, he graced her with that sunny smile, all for her this time. "I don't think I could ever forget you now, Kim Hyejoon."

"Keep me here," she commanded, with an impish flick of her finger against his beating heart.

"This moment will crystallize in my heart." Holding her hand, he crossed his heart with her finger. "Preserved as one of my precious memories."

"And I... I'll keep you here." She pressed the fingers of her free hand against her lips. As she inched closer, he guided the hand he was still holding on his shoulder. They kissed in that blind alley like two teenagers, fulfilling the promise of that interrupted connection from eight years ago.

When they parted, Hoseok blinked at her, as if in a daze. She was about to tease him, but her ears perked up. "Hey, do you hear that?"

"I don't hear anything," he mumbled, still sneaking peeks at her mouth as she talked.

"Exactly. The coast is clear." She grabbed his hand and stepped out of their hiding place.

But her coworkers popped out of another alley, now sober from the shock. "Hyejoon!"

"Hoseok!" His companions had been standing watch and rushed over to him.

"You crazy girl, we thought you were a goner!" her supervisor screamed.

"Hey, let go--!" Protesting when her coworkers tugged at her arm, she struggled to keep hold of Hoseok.

"This is dangerous, if you got caught here it would be very, very bad!" One of Hoseok's companions--his manager, it seemed--seized him by the shoulders and started leading him away.  

"Hyung, wait!" Hoseok's hand unlinked with Hyejoon's and he grasped at air in an attempt to maintain the connection, but their respective companions pulled them their separate ways.

"There's no time!" the manager cried and marched him down the alley.

Hyejoon looked over her shoulder, searching for Hoseok and met his eyes--she knew his frantic look was reflected on her own face. To calm him, she quirked her lips in a grin. He grinned back, just he was walked out of the alley and out of sight.

"What happened to you?" her coworkers all asked in concern as they hurried to their hotel.

"Just... making more precious memories," she answered dreamily.

And she would've thought that it were just a Christmas dream, if not for the weight of the heart earrings dangling from her ears, their crystalline coolness brushing against her skin with every step.

One day, I know, our paths will cross again.

[deanssweetheart23]

Downsized

Title: Downsized

Summary: You always knew life with the Winchesters was crazy. But when Sam brings back home a three-year-old Dean, you begin to question your own sanity...

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester

Word count: 2163

Warnings: Some language. Fluff and crack. Crack and fluff. Mentions of sex because Dean’s a cheeky bastard. That’s all I think.

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @trexrambling and @wheresthekillswitch “Crack Challenge”. Ladies, thank you so much for letting me participate, this has been one very interesting ride. 

Special thank you to my amazing twin @ravengirl94 for coming up with a very important (and hilarious) detail about this. And for putting up with my whiny self. She’s a hero, really.

Now, my prompt for this was “I’ll give you three seconds to stop doing that” and is included in bold in the text below. Honestly, this is my first time doing something like this but I think I like what I’ve got. 

Without further ado. Enjoy <3 

16:30

Silence.

You hated the silence.

You’ve always hated it, ever since you were a kid, but now, after you’ve spent years of your life filled with noise and cries and laughter, filled with arguments and bickering about whose turn it was to go for a supply run, or short, angry snarls and whispered promises in a dark room when it was just you and Dean, that absence of sound, of speech, made everything worse.

16:45

You stared at the clock on the wall and bit on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

Something was wrong. You could feel it. You didn’t know how, or why –the details weren’t important anyway. What really mattered was that Dean hadn’t called since that morning and that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach that just wouldn’t go away.

Maybe you should just-

The sound of the bunker’s door being opened then closed interrupted your thoughts and, before you knew it, you were practically running towards the library, eyes wide and senses alert, until your leg gave out and you stumbled into the doorframe, muttering expletives under your breath. 

“Hi there, Y/N.” Sam greeted you with an amused smile. “I’m glad you’re so happy to see me.”

“Oh, shut up. I was worried. How did the hunt go? Why didn’t you call? Are you injured? Where is-”

“Hey,” the youngest Winchester chuckled, all delight and waggishness, “one question at a time, champ.”

Rolling your eyes, you raised an eyebrow in suspicion; despite his playfulness and confident swagger, you could see the way his smile seemed a bit too forced and his forehead puckered just a tiny little bit.

“Where is Dean?”

“Um,” he started, rocking back and forth on his heels, “about that.”

“Sam.” you tried again, a bit more forceful. “Where is Dean?”

And then, right before he could actually reply, a little kid with blonde hair and green eyes gripped on Sam’s leg and swam into view, wearing what was supposed to be one of Dean’s shirts and, oh, God, this was not happening.

“Is that-”

The little boy -were you supposed to call him a boy?- shrugged and scratched the back of his neck nervously, lips quirking up in that smirk you knew all too well.

“Hi ya, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God! What the –who did that to you?” you chanted with a gapped mouth stare.

“Witch. She threw some kind of poop smelling juice at me.”

You nodded, head titled to the left.

“But that doesn’t –why didn’t she get both of you?”

“Well-”

“Because, unlike Dean, I didn’t call her old.” Sam deadpanned, jutting his chin.

“Is it-”

“It’s not permanent, Y/N. You don’t have to worry. My idiotic brother will be back to normal in a couple of days.” he threw over his shoulder as he headed for the staircase.

“Hey.” Dean whined in offence, narrowing his eyes at him.

A snort.

“’S okay, little one.” You cooed, walking towards the green-eyed man. “He’s just being mean.”

“Little one? Really, Y/N?”

“’M sorry, D. It’s just… It’s funny.”

“It’s not funny.” He groaned, folding his tiny arms in front of his chest.

“It’s a bit funny.” You insisted, crouching down to be at his eye level. “Okay, c’mon, don’t be like that.”

“I had to let Sam drive Baby, Y/N. Baby.”

“You’re being just a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Oh, my brother’s being a real drama queen.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Okay. Enough.” You crowed, hands on your hips. “Dean. Stop acting like you’re a three-year-old. You might look like one but you’re not.” You scolded, trying hard not to laugh at his adorable, childish pout.

“And you, Samuel Winchester.” You started, brandishing a finger at the hazel-eyed man that had began to walk away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

A pause. Eyebrows raised in question.

“Um, my room?”

“Don’t think so, little miss sunshine.” 

Both brothers looked at you in puzzlement then but you only smiled, and took Dean into your arms.

“You, Dean Bean and I are going shopping.”

You returned home a couple of hours later, bringing with you toddler outfits, supplies and a couple of new books Sam had insisted on buying -probably because he enjoyed seeing Dean roll his eyes every time an old lady told you what a great son you two had.

“Well,” the hazel-eyed man started as he set the bags in the library. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Dean gasped in disbelief, voice almost a growl. “Not that bad? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing a T-shirt with Winnie the frigging Pooh on it.”

“Hey. I like Winnie.” You droned, pouting. “And besides. You look kinda cute in it.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re always cute.” You objected, smiling that cute smile you knew he loved.

Narrowing his eyes the size of half dollars, he turned around and headed for the kitchen, muttering something about coffee and how it was too late for this shit to himself.

So, you followed him quietly, glaring daggers at Sam every time he let out a chuckle at his brother’s khaki pants and failed attempts to reach the counter.

And then it happened.

He snapped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” he fumed, jaw set in a hard line as he punched the bottom of the counter. “I can’t even reach the top self.”

You sighed.

Part of you wanted to laugh because the whole situation was just too much, but, at the same time, you hated to imagine what this was like for him.

Dean had never been good at being vulnerable or asking for help. He’d never been good at letting others take care of him or at not being in control, so you could only imagine how overwhelming everything felt.

Walking closer to him, you reached out for his hand.

“C’mere, D.”

He didn’t move. He just looked at you, lips pursed and arms folded, but, when you grinned, he let out a deep, quite dramatic breath and allowed you to scoop him into your arms.

“It’s gonna be okay. You know that, right?” you asked, rubbing his back soothingly.

“I just… I really hate witches, man.”

“I know, baby.” You kissed the top of his head. “Okay. How about we get rid of your brother for the rest of the day-”

“Aw, I love you too, Y/N-”

“-shut up, Sam –how about we do get rid of him and just watch movies? All day. I’ll even let you watch the PG13 ones.”

He perked up at that, slanting an eyebrow, cheeky smile on full display.

“That so, sweetheart?” he smirked, tiny hands stroking your breasts suggestively.

An eyeroll.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll give you three seconds to stop doing that. Then I’m gonna castrate you.”

Sam burst out laughing then, but the green-eyed man only licked his lips, squinting at you in a furtive manner.

“Yeah. Laugh it up all you want, Sammy, but the view from here ain’t half bad.”

You let out a groan as Sam snorted, biting on his bottom lip.

It was going to be a long day.

By the time the fourth western movie had ended, all the exhaustion along with the apple juice Dean had been drinking and the way you’d been stroking his neck soothingly had made him fall asleep and he was huddled up like a kitten next to you now, one tiny arm groping at your breast.

Of course.

Huffing out a breath, you shifted a little and laughed when Dean groaned and scrunched up his nose in annoyance.

And still, as soon as your lips grazed his forehead, he sighed contently and all you could do was take in freckles and blonde locks of hair and serene smiles.

Dammit. He was a cute kid.

Well. Except from the boob groping thing.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s get you to bed.” You murmured, picking him up and cradling him to your chest.

It was relatively easy to carry him to your shared bedroom. Once you did, you set him on bed and ruffled his hair tenderly -how could you not?, then tried to reach for a blanket but were stopped by a pitiful whimper and a microscopic hand that wrapped around your wrist.

“Sweetheart,” Dean whined, tugging at your hand. “Stay.”

It should have been funny, the sight of a kid calling you sweetheart and acting like a grown man, but his gruff voice, a voice that was thick with sleep and had always been one of your weaknesses, along with those pleading green orbs of his, was all you needed to take him seriously.

You smiled, knuckles caressing his cheek.

“Wasn’t going anywhere, D. Just wanted to bring you a blanket.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, “you always take care of me, kid.”

“Kid?”

“Shut up.” He growled, scooting close as soon as you climbed into the covers. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“Our whole life’s weird, D.”

“Yeah, but this is just… Man, I hate witches.”

You chuckled, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah. Pretty sure we’ve already established that today. But it…. You’ll be okay.”

“’S just,” he sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly. “I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?” you asked, brows knitted together in a frown.

“This whole,” he trailed off, seemingly looking for the right words, lips set in a grim line, “being a kid thing, I guess.” he explained, eyes suddenly brimming with an emotion that just seemed so wrong for a child.

But Dean wasn’t a child.

And he’d never been one.

“I mean, my whole life I was just… I always took care of Sammy. I still do. ‘S who I am, you know? And now... It’s hard to depend on someone else.”

“You’re not exactly depending on us, D.”

A wry laugh. Eyes crinkled in frustration.

“I can’t even reach the top self, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but it’s temporary. And sort of expected in our line of work.”

He gave you his famous bitch face.

You chuckled.

“Okay. Not expected exactly but… Alright. How about this? This is a battle wound.”

“Sweetheart, this is not-”

“It happened while you were on the job, right?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Then, it’s a battle wound. And all you have to do is let us take care of you until you’re healed. That’s all.”

He didn’t say anything, not for one, two, three long bits, but then he smiled, awed and genuine, face nuzzling your thumb.

“God. How did I ever trick you into falling in love with me?”

Letting out a loud laugh, you shrugged and pressed your forehead against his. For whatever reason, it didn’t feel weird anymore.

“I’ve got low standards for one thing” You deadpanned, smile dangling at the corner of your lips. “And, well. Your green eyes kind of helped.”

He laughed for the first time that day, face lit up.

“I knew it. I knew that you only ever cared for my insanely good looks.”

“Yeah, okay, little one.” You snorted, covering him with his favorite blanket. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

“Mmmm… I hope I’ll get to dream of you.” he slurred, lips lingering on your palm. “Naked.”

“Jesus Christ, you ass. That’s disgusting.”

He chortled, all swagger and amusement. 

“Yup.” He mumbled to himself, interlocking his fingers with yours. “Definitely naked.”

Kisses.

Someone was peppering your face with kisses. They were landing everywhere. On your forehead and eyelids. On the tip of your nose and the corner of your mouth. On your cheekbones and jaw, the pressure familiar and sweet.

Sighing, you blinked owlishly and opened your eyes only to find a pair of hazy emerald ones staring back at you while calloused fingers caressed your skin.

“D.”

“Hmmm…”

“You’re-”

“Me again. Yeah, I know.” he cut you off, tucking a strand stray of hair behind your ear. “And you don’t have to worry. All of my body parts are back to their normal proportions. And I mean, all of them.” He winked and you snorted out a laugh, fingers sinking into his hair.

“Jeez, D., you’re so -Jesus Christ, why are you naked?”

“Because that stupid outfit got ripped apart when that spell broke. Thank God.”

“But I liked that outfit.”

“Wish I could say the same thing about yours.” He said playfully, fingers gripping on the hem of your overlarge T-shirt.

“This is one of your shirts, you know.”

“Oh, I know, kid.” He whispered, low and rough, teeth biting on the shell of your ear. “And while I do appreciate the way you look in it, I know for a fact you look way better without it.”

“You think a line like that will actually get you laid, Winchester?” you laughed but he only smirked and latched his mouth onto your neck, drawing a soft moan from you.

“I think I like my chances, yeah.”

And, boy.

His chances were good.

Really good.

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