#it could’ve just been unfortunate timing in a small store but i swear to god at one point she was sticking so close to me i was looking

[fingertipsmp3]

Feeling very much like one of those white women you see on nextdoor panicking that they & their kids are going to be kidnapped because they got ‘followed’ around a grocery store, but seriously I just got followed around the grocery store

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[massivelycreepypineapple]

We’re All We Got

Request: I would like a Dean x Reader where the reader is their little sister, and Dean has been with her since she was a little girl, and so he is always very protective, and one day she almost dies and he despairs a lot, but everything is fine.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: Hope you enjoy this! :)

Word Count: 1820

❅ ❅ ❅

-flashback to 13yr old Dean-

“Shh, Y/N. It’s going to be ok. You’re fine, kiddo.” Dean whispered as he laid beside her on the motel bed, carding his fingers through her hair.

Y/N, was was running a high fever and it worried Dean and Sam to no end.

“De, my head hurts.” She whimpered, curling up into him.

“I know, kid. I’ll go to the store and get you some medicines ok?”

“No!” Cried Y/N clinging to him tighter. “Don’t go, please”

“Y/N we don’t have anything to make it better. I need to go get some stuff for you. Or it could get worse.” Said Dean trying to pry her hands off him, an action that immediately made her cry.

“D-don’t go!”

“No no please calm down! I’m right her ok? I’ll stay. I won’t go.” He soother her, panicking at her reaction. He had always had a special bond with the 7yr old, and he was extremely protective of her. Sam too, but Y/N was the youngest and was more prone to getting hurt than his brother.

Sam climbed in on the other side of the bed next to Y/N, “Y/N I’ll be right here with you. Dean won’t be long.” He tried convincing her.

“No! I only want De!”

“I’m right here, kid. Ain’t going anywhere.” Said Dean cuddling her more, making sure she was comfortable. He stayed with her till she feel asleep before he could go buy the stuff.

-Flashback end-

Dean was clutching onto Y/N’s hand in the hospital. She was severely hurt by a werewolf and had been quite close to death.

“I’m right here, kid.” He whispered to her unconscious form.

It pained him to see his baby sister like that. Especially when it was his fault. Y/N was no hunter. Her expertise lied in research. However, she did know how to fight almost as well as her brother but chose not to. This one particular hunt, he and Sam were outnumbered and needed an extra hand. So they had no choice but to take Y/N with them. Everything was going according to plan and the three of them fought like a well oiled machine. Unfortunately, right at the end when only one werewolf was remaining, the bastard got Y/N and hurt her badly before getting shot by Sam.

The car ride to the hospital was one of the worst moments of his life. He even made Sam drive them, opting to sit at the back making sure their little sister didn’t bleed to death. Once everything was taken care of, he had refused to leave her side and insisted on Sam getting the rest he needed.

And hour later Sam had arrived with two cups of coffee, startling Dean when he placed an hand on his shoulder.

“Dean, she’s alive. She’s going to wake up. The doctor said so himself.” Sam was very worried about both his siblings. One nearly died and the other is slowly running himself to an early grave.

“I’m fine, Sammy.” Dean mumbled.

“At least have some coffee.” Sam offered him the cup.

Dean took it absentmindedly and placed the thing on the table next to him, making Sam sigh. He barely noticed Sam take a seat beside him rubbing Y/N’s leg.

-flashback to 18 yr old Dean-

Y/N had been hanging out with a couple of her school friends when suddenly she barged into the motel room angry as hell and making a beeline to the bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it, startling her brothers. Dean shared a worried look with Sam and walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing is wrong! Go away!” She yelled, her voiced muffled by the door.

“I know something’s wrong, N/N! Don’t lie to me.”

“I said, GO. AWAY!”

“Did someone hurt you? You know I’ll beat the shit out of them!”

“Y/N, we just want to help.” Said Sam joining Dean.

“I just need 5 minutes ok?” Her voice broke at the end.

“You got 5 minutes, and then I’m coming in.” Said Dean, walking to the bed and sitting on the corner. He was still on alert, waiting for her to come out.

It had become little over 5 mins and just when Dean was about to pick the lock, the door opened a crack and Y/N’s tear stricken face came into view.

“De…” Her small voice came through.

“Y/N, what’s going on. Why are you crying?”

“I… I’m bleeding.” She whispered.

Both Dean and Sam were freaking out.

“What?!” They chorused.

“Y/N! Where? What was it? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” Dean was getting angry and trying to open the door more to get a look at her.

“Guys! Not like that! Nothing hurt me!” Her face was red with embarrassment.

They stopped for a second, “What do you mean, N/N?” Asked Sam.

That’s when it hit Dean. She got her first period. He looked at her with wide eyes.

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“What’s happening, guys?” A confused Sam asked.

“Sammy, just stay here ok? Keep an eye on her. Both of you just stay here. I’ll be back in 20mins.” With that he rushed out to get her what was needed.

An hour later Y/N was curled up on the bed under the blankets with embarrassment and a hot pack. While Dean was sitting beside her trying to tell her there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“It’s a normal thing, N/N. It’s happens to every girl.”

“Not in public.” She mumbled.

“Not true, when I was your age, a classmate of mine started to.. you know.. in class. She was very embarrassed too and had her mom come get her. But eventually she forgot about it and so did everyone else.”

He was doing his best to assure her that she was fine, but what came out of her mouth next broke his heart.

“She had a mom to tell her about it. I don’t.”

“N/N…”

She was sniffling under the blankets, trying not to cry. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her.

“If mom were here, she’d be so proud of the way you’re handling it, kid. You’re a champ. I know I ain’t mom, but I’m here for you ok? I’ll always be here for you and Sammy.” He looked at Sam who was trying his best to help as much as he could.

“Thank you, De.” Y/N whispered. “You’re not mom, but you’re kinda cool.”

He ruffled her hair, making her laugh. “I’m more than cool, shortie!”

-flashback end-

Dean chuckled at that memory, kissing the back of her hand. He remembered how he had to explain to the shopkeeper what he was looking for. And he had to help Y/N figure out how to use it too because no one had taught her. They were both an embarrassed mess, but it all worked out in the end. It was hard for the three of them to not have any parental guidance. With a dead mother and an absent father, it fell on Dean’s shoulders to make sure Sam and Y/N were taken care of.

“I swear to god when you wake up I’m gonna kick you ass, kid.” He said softly. “You’re not making it easy on me. It’s my job to keep you safe and I failed. You’ve always been a trouble maker, you know? Sammy was easy compared to you and that’s saying a lot.” He chuckled.

“Hey! You’re one to talk.” Quipped Sam, smiling a little.

“Shush, Sam. It’s rude to interrupt.” He smirked at him. “Anyway, I’m just warning you. You enjoy the peace now. Caz when you open those eyes, I’m going to give you shit, Y/N.”

“Me too. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you, squirt.” Said Sam.

A few seconds later, Dean felt his hand get squeezed. A small groan came from Y/N.

“Y/N!” They called at the same time and sprung into action in a frenzy and called the nurse.

The doctor looked her up and gave her the clear to leave after 48 hours. He also gave them instructions on her diet and gave strict orders on bed rest until the wound healed a little more. When he left a silence set in the room until Y/N broke it.

“So you two think you could give me shit and get away with it?” She smirked tiredly at them.

“You don’t have a say in that, N/N. You nearly died! What were you thinking?!” Said Sam slightly angry.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. But I did what had to be done. It was unavoidable.” She smiled apologetically

“It was not unavoidable, Y/N! We could’ve handled it without you getting in its way!”

“Sam… it would’ve mauled you if I hadn’t. I couldn’t let my favourite Sasquatch get hurt now, can I?”

“Y/N I could’ve-“

“Sam, stop. I’m fine! I’m alive and kicking. So please let it go?” She gave him her puppy dog eyes which she learnt from him.

“Should not have taught you that.” He mumbled grumpily, making her giggle and wince.

Dean through it all was quiet. He was still trying to process everything.

“De…” Called Y/N.

He looked at her with tears in his eyes. He didn’t let them fall however.

“No. Don’t you dare say you’re fine caz you stopped breathing, Y/N!” He snapped at her.

She was taken aback.

“I never should’ve asked you to help us! This could’ve been avoided if I wasn’t such a dumbass.” He rubbed his face. “But at the same time, you saved Sammy. I can’t… I don’t know how to process this.”

“Dean. What was supposed to happen, happened. We’re Winchesters, we’re meant to get hurt, die and rise up again. It’s the way it has been.” Y/N said calmly.

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No it doesn’t” She chuckled lightly. “But it does mean that you of all people need to take a break once in a while and let the young people do the protecting.”

Dean chuckled at that, “You calling me old, kid?”

“Damn right.” She smirked at him making Sam snort.

“She’s right, Dean. So go take a shower and eat something before your old man body kills you dead.” Sam grinned at him.

“You’re not so young yourself, Sammy” He gave him a bitch face.

“Still younger.” He grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and looked at Y/N with a soft smile. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “Don’t run off. I’ll be back in no time.”

“I’ll try not to.” She smiled at him, squeezing his hand before he reluctantly left to fix himself.

❅ ❅ ❅

TAGS BELOW

@hobby27 @akshi8278 @svmwinchesterr

[sincerly-kate]

Deadly kind of Luck (Joel Miller x reader)

Summary: You, Dina and Ellie go out on a supply run and have a close call with some runners. But what happens when a close call is too close? What does Joel think when he sees you at the brink of death?

A/N: Yes this does take place in part ii, but since I’m not done the game but still trying to recover from certain scenes that I’ve witnessed, this will have minor spoilers for the second game but nothing past the first chapter Jackson (Which has been slightly modified), and there will be spoilers for the first one. This will pick up where part ii would technically start. Also I’ve tried my absolute hardest to make this as gender neutral as possible so all of you can read this, enjoy! 

Requested?: No

Word count: almost 3k

Warnings: Swearing,violence, and if you know these games, you know what you’re getting into, same rules and warnings apply here for the most part.

You promised Maria that you would go with the two girls on their morning run today, not because she didn’t trust them, but because the area she wanted you three to was known for swarms of infected. You’ve known Maria for years now, you were neighbours before the whole world went to shit. When the infected started to take over the city, she ran to your house, got some supplies, told you to get in her car and you guys left. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that you two were reunited after being ripped apart by a giant hoard of infected. You ran into the forest, as far as you could, and she ran in the other direction.

Fortunately for yourself, you were found in that forest by a smuggler named Tess, who took you in; and the rest was history.

You were behind Dina and Ellie, keeping an eye on the woods as you passed on your horses. Your gaze kept going from the tops of the snow dusted trees that were bare of any form of leaves, to the bushes that looked like little clouds that were placed so intricately on the snow dusted ground. The slight movement of the water from the river was what was keeping you calm and grounded, without something as small as the stream of water, you knew you’d go insane from the silence alone. Thankfully, Dina broke the silence and brought you out of your focus and into their quiet discussion you didn’t even realize they were having. ‘Guess I was just really deep in thought then.’ You thought to yourself.

“So, y/n, you and Joel huh?”

You immediately blushed at what she was inferring and looked down at your horse, Eos. Ellie and Dina knew full well about your crush on the man, but you always felt that it was one sided. You saw how he reacted when Tess sacrificed herself for the three of you. He’d hadn’t been the same since. You always felt guilty for what happened to Tess, but Ellie constantly reassured you that there was no way you could’ve prevented that. You knew how stupid it sounded to be scared of rejection, but that was something you had constantly dealt with, even before these apocalyptic times; it just became something you’d become accustomed to now.

Thankfully, Ellie noticed your silence, and took this as enough of an answer.

“Dina, leave them alone.” Ellie said with a sigh, not because she was annoyed, but because she knew exactly what was going on in your head.

You always talked with Ellie about that kind of thing since you both have similar fears. It’s what brought you guys even closer together, knowing that you’d rather die than abandon the other. The amount of times the two of you would stay up late and just let out all of the things you could never tell Maria, Dina and Joel, you’d cry on her shoulder and her on yours if necessary. Then carry on surviving, it was all you two could do in times like these.

“What? I was simply curious is all. The two of them would be the ultimate power couple! like-”

“Dina-” Ellie said stopping her girlfriend from saying anymore, not taking her eyes of the path in front of her to look at Dina behind her. She knew the line, but Dina didn’t see the harm in slightly crossing it.

Dina sighs and stops for your sake and the brunette’s.

You silently thanked her for stopping.

~

Once you guys made it to the abandoned town, you tied the reins of the two horses onto the posts outside of the building and scoped out the area for any infected or hostiles.

It was all clear.

The three of you then regrouped and headed through the front doors together, Ellie surveying your right, her shotgun in hand, Dina on your left with her knife, and you checked straight ahead with your bow. You split off into three directions, and as you looked through the various rooms of the pharmacy, you found a pit that was a far down enough to lead straight to the basement from the middle floor.

Unfortunately, you found it by falling through the hole in the floor and onto the solid concrete floor.

You grunted from the pain of falling on your back and rolled onto your side, and as you tried to get up, you heard loud footsteps come from above you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” You heard Ellie yell out, hearing what you assumed to be Dina’s footsteps not too far behind her.

“Yeah,” You said with some strain, you definitely bruised your side on your way down. “I think I’m okay.” You slowly began to get up, but your heart began to fill with dread.

Infected were coming your way, to check out the noise you made; it was a lot of them by the sounds of it.

“Ellie! Dina! RUN!” you yelled up to them, but Ellie heard them coming and wasn’t having it.

“Hell no y/n, there’s no way I’m leaving you down there to die!” Ellie then begins to kneel near the hole to put her hand out for you to take, “Give me your hand y/n!” she yells down to you.

You then notice some boxes that you could use as stairs and began to make your way up to meet her hand when you see them turn the corner.

“Oh shit.” You whispered, the tension and fear bloomed into your nerves.

There was at least twenty clickers, runners and god knows what else within the swarm of infected.

“Oh shit!” You yelled again as they gained speed to your location, climbing even faster to meet Ellie. A runner then grabs your ankle and drags you back down to the swarm, where you suddenly feel a pain in your side, but right now that was the least of your worries; you needed to get out of this pit.

“NO!” you hear the girls scream in agony as they see one of their closest friends get dragged into a pit of infected and swarm you; assuming the worst.

Ellie then brought out her pistol without a second to lose, to give you a chance to run, which worked.

You took your chance to get away and ran up the crates up to where Ellie and Dina were covering you so you could have a fighting chance.

“C’mon let’s go!” you heard them yell, as Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her to make sure you weren’t left behind.

Ellie practically dragged you from room to room, your arm now wrapped behind her neck so you could use her as a makeshift crutch. Dina was in front to take on any infected that came towards you and to lead you two to safety.

Once you managed to make it back to the horses, the idea of finishing the mission Maria sent you to complete on the back burner in the two young girls minds; you were far more important than supplies at this moment. You began your rushed journey home holding onto Ellie on Eos, now fighting against the clock.

Ellie’s P.O.V

As we were running through the forest on Eos and Dina taking Shimmer, since y/n was in no shape to ride Eos alone and Dina was one of the few people Shimmer allowed to ride her without me; I began to think about what I was going to tell Joel.

‘Yeah sorry Joel but I fucked up and y/n almost became clicker bait! Don’t worry though, it won’t ever happen again!’

Any scenario I tell him what happened ends in screaming matches or him leaving camp with them with him in tow, with them alive or dead. I shake my head as I try to go faster.

The thought of them dying for a minor mistake like this began to eat at me. It was scaring the hell out of me, that one of the few people I care for might die; I can’t bare losing another parental figure over some dumb ass mistake like this.

We finally made it back home in record time, and the second those gates opened, Eos ran through those gates all on her own, most likely sensing the fear going through my veins. It was almost as if Eos knew her owner was in danger, she ran towards the doctor’s house and stopped immediately.

I looked towards Dina, who was directly behind me and I didn’t even need to say anything, all she did was look at me and nodded.

“I’ll go get him; you just make sure they get better.” Then off she went, running to Joel’s house.

“Don’t worry y/n, you’re gonna make it, like hell are you going to die on me.” I said to them, but I didn’t know who I was trying to convince here; myself or them. As we walked up, with them using me again as a crutch, I noticed that their skin had paled in comparison to when we were at the store. I started walking faster towards the door.

Y/n’s P.O.V

All you could see was pitch black. Nothing more and nothing less, but your hearing began to slowly come back to focus, just like a swimmer breaking the surface after being under for a few minutes; it became overbearing almost. You managed to focus on one single voice, a voice that caused you immense comfort during your darkest times, just like this one: Joel’s.

“What the hell happened out there you two?”

You didn’t need to see him to know he was holding back on the two girls, but you didn’t blame either of them for this, hell you’re the one that went with them on the run, you knew the risks that’s why you went.

“Joel I’m so- “Ellie; you could hear the tears she was holding back. You saw her as your own daughter, that’s why you didn’t stop Joel from punching Seth, hell if it was you, he would’ve gotten a hell of a lot more than just a punch. The mere thought of him made your hand twitch in rage. That managed to get their attention, or at least Dina’s from the sounds of it.

“Guys- “

“Not now Dina- “ The two said in unison, they were more alike then they cared to say.

“Their hand moved!”

The room filled with silence, until you felt Joel place your hand in his rough yet soft ones.

“Darlin’, are you still there? Please… I can’t lose anyone else, especially not you.”

You tried to move again, but it was as if your body was made of pure lead; it wasn’t going to happen. You felt a head lay on your shoulder and a kiss on your cheek, as two drops of what you assumed to be tears, dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m not givin’ up on you y/n, not now, not ever. You’d do the same for me.”

If you were able to move, you were certainly curled up in a ball next to him and cry at how broken your boyfriend sounded due to your mistake.

-TWO WEEKS LATER-

Saying that you were beginning to get pissed off at this whole situation was the world’s biggest understatement. You could hear everyone around you, but you couldn’t talk back or move. Maria had come in to see you, hell even Tommy joined her a few times, but you felt like that was because he wanted to inform Joel on any new updates on your condition. All you wanted was to hold Joel as the two of you watched cheesy 80’s movies, which made you smile at the thought of.

You weren’t listening to what was going on around you today, for the most part it’s been a doctor coming in and making sure you didn’t kick the bucket just yet.

But now you really wished you were listening to what ever lead up to this moment.

You felt a cold piece of metal press into your forehead, and you had pissed off one too many people to know exactly what that metal was, and your stomach dropped; a gun, the doctor was going to put a bullet in your head.

It was as if your body was shocked with a defibrillator; you jumped out of the bed and hid in the closest thing you could see, which was the closet.

“Holy shit!” You heard the doctor screech and bolt out the door.

‘guess he wasn’t expecting what he got.’ you thought to yourself. ‘Never seen someone scared that shitless.’

You heard footsteps run out the door and then a different pair- no pairs- of footsteps make its way into your room.

“Y/n?” Joel. He’s just outside the closet door. You could make out his face through the gaps in the door, he had his gun out; did he think you would hurt him?

That voice made you whimper, and you scolded yourself for giving away where you were. You slowly got out of your hiding spot, your hands up in surrender, and looked at your lover, finally after who the hell knows how long you’ve been comatose.

“I’m here baby, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” You rushed into the others arms and decided that this is where you wanted to spend the rest of your days; this was home.

“Oh, thank god, oh thank god.” He kept repeating it, but you didn’t care, he was here, and you were both okay- wait the infected! You were bit! The last thing you wanted was to take him down with you.

You pushed him away in fear, you saw his face change from happy to concern, he tried to walk towards you, but you moved back to keep the space.

“How the fuck am I still alive?” You looked to Ellie, who was just as concerned as Joel was for the sudden change. “How long have I been in here?”

“I was bit! I felt it dig its teeth into my side! How the fuck am I still not turned into one of those things?!” You were just about to go into a hysterical episode as you continued, but Ellie went in front of Joel to get to you and held your arms.

She tried to get you to look her eyes, but you were too frantic to meet her eyes. So, she decided that she might as well come out with it.

“You’re just like me y/n, you’re immune.”  

That managed to shut you down immediately.

You looked at the teenager in front of you in complete shock,

‘There must’ve been mistake. You would’ve known already right?’

“I-I’m what?”

Joel moved Ellie to the side gently, and guided you to the bed you’d been comatose in so you could take all this information in, with him on your right and Ellie sitting on the floor in front of you, holding your knee to comfort you.

“You can’t turn into one of them baby.” He confirmed Ellie’s previous statement, and all you could say was something only you could’ve thought of:

“Damn, well at least this will be one hell of a scar and one badass story.” You said nonchalantly as the room filled with your family’s laughter.

“Well that’s one way to think about it. At least that means I can spend the rest of my life with you with one less worry. That is if you let me?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

Ellie hit your knee, snapping you out of your trance; realizing you didn’t say what you were thinking, you shook your head and placed your hands on the sides of his face. You leaned in and finally kissed him. The taste of that first kiss would stay with you forever; the way his lips molded with yours like a perfect puzzle piece. He placed his hands on your face, pulling you in closer, as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

You pulled away but you both kept your hands on the others face.

“That enough of an answer for you?” You both giggled and leaned your foreheads together.

You heard Ellie hit her knees and curse and walk towards the door, but before she left you saw her turn around.

“Thanks Joel, now I owe Dina a song because you didn’t have enough balls to kiss them first.” Then she walked out the door.

You both moved away from each other as you went into fit of laughter over Ellie’s comment, as Joel looked at you in adoration.

If the apocalypse has taught you anything it’s this; you would go through all of the pain its brought you if you could still have them next to you, no matter the cost , if it brought you to this very moment. You couldn’t imagine a life without either Joel or Ellie in it, right by your side; you three against the world.

[jalapeno-princess]

In Between the Lines

Librarian Jinyoung X Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jinyoung is a librarian at your university’s library and you visit the library quite often. The two of you develop crushes on each other but you are both shy to confess to one another. 

A/N: I rushed while writing this so I’m sorry if it sucks but I hope you enjoy it anon!

“Jackson, I don’t care that we’re friends, that isn’t going to stop me from bothering you about returning “To Kill a Mockingbird”. It’s four months overdue man, where is it? I’m tired of having to come up with excuses for you. I don’t understand why you borrowed it in the first place. I bet you haven’t even read it once since you checked it out.” 

The older boy scoffed at his librarian friend while crossing his arms in disbelief. “I did too read it! It’s about killing a mockingbird. Duh. The title practically gives away the entire story. Fine, I’ll be honest. I’ve been meaning to bring it back for the longest time but I misplaced it just a few days ago. I’m sure it’s under the pile of dirty clothes I never end up washing—hey Park Jinyoung! Are you even listening? What are you looking at—oh. God dude, can you make it anymore obvious that you like y/n? Stop staring at her, it’s creepy. Everybody and their mothers know that you have a huge crush on her. I’m sure even she knows. You leave the library open an hour later just so you can continue gawking at her just hurry up and tell her how you feel already—I swear to God Jinyoung—“ he took his hand off of Jackson’s mouth and sent his outspoken friend a death defying glare. 

“Shhhhhh! This is why my manager keeps threatening to ban you from coming here. You’re always so loud. Keep it down would you? To kill a mockingbird has nothing to do with a damn bird so return the damn book by tomorrow or I’m sending you a bill. And can you be any more louder about my feelings for y/n? If she didn’t know before, she probably knows now you loud mouth. This is why nobody tells you anything. Now get out of here.” Jackson scoffed sarcastically and stuck his tongue out before waving to Jinyoung and taking his leave. 

To be quite honest, Jinyoung couldn’t give less of a shit over the missing book. Matter of a fact, he never really understood why he applied to be a librarian at his university’s library. Sure he loved reading, and the library was an extremely quiet place. That was unless one of his friends paid him an unwanted visit. He never had much to do other than to check out books, put back returned books, search through the computer if a student was looking for a specific book and to call people if their books were overdue. It was an easy job and the pay was decent considering he hardly ever did anything but sit there and watch reruns of Friends. 

At one point, he even contemplated on quitting so he could focus on his studies but that all changed the first time his eyes landed on you. He didn’t notice you walk in to the library but his eyes never left your figure once when you first approached him to ask where you could find “The Great Gatsby”. 

Whenever someone would ask Jinyoung where they could find a book, he would just motion them towards the shelf. However, when he found himself getting up and motioning for you to follow him as he made his way down a few rows of books, he knew he was in trouble. You were shy and soft spoken, two traits that caught his attention as soon as you began talking to him. He was quick to pick up on the crack in your voice and the redness that rose on your cheeks and he thought it was the most adorable thing ever. 

As soon as he led you to the literature section, there was something inside of him that didn’t want to leave your presence just yet. “This is actually one of my favorite books. Are you required to read it for a class or are you just reading it to read it?” 

You scrunched your nose while shaking your head and Jinyoung could’ve sworn he’s never seen anything cuter. “I’ve been actually wanting to read it for a while now, but I never had the chance to. Luckily, we have to write a six page essay about it for my English class.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you seen the movie? It’s an actual shit show if you ask me. It’s nothing like the book. I don’t think any movie does any justice for the novel it’s based on.” You giggled softly on how irritated he seemed when talking about the movie. He opened his mouth to continue but then he felt a vibration in his pocket. “I’m needed at the front desk. It was nice meeting you—um—“ he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. How could he not have learned your name before talking nonsense to you?

“Y/n. My name is y/n.” He gave you a gentle smile before slowly making his way towards the front. 

“Nice meeting you y/n. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions. You know where to find me! Happy reading!” Once he took his seat back at the counter, he face palmed himself and groaned in frustration. Happy reading? Who says that? He felt like such an awkward loser but he knew it was because he didn’t know how to act around you. 

Park Jinyoung wasn’t one to get involved with girls. He was always so focused on his studies, his job and his pet rabbit that he never had the time for any sort of relationship. Nobody ever caught his eye before. However, he couldn’t get the image of your pretty little face out of his mind. 

From that day on, Jinyoung made it his goal to try and talk to you every time you came in to the library. To his delight, you seemed to frequent the library quite often and you’d always stop by the front desk to say hi to Jinyoung before going to study or find a book to read. Jinyoung would put books away as an excuse to talk with you and whenever he felt like the conversation was flowing well between the two of you, he would completely forget the task at hand and give you his full attention. 

Unfortunately, Jinyoung was a coward and could never build up the guts to tell you how he felt, leaving the two of you in an awkward position. You weren’t necessarily friends, no matter how badly the two of you wanted to be but you weren’t exactly strangers either. In your short talks together, you learned quite a lot about the mysterious and extremely handsome librarian. He was a law major trying to save enough money to open up his own book store. His favorite show was Parks and Recreations, he liked going to the beach when it was storming out and swam in the rain, his favorite color was navy blue and he was allergic to broccoli. 

You enjoyed spending as much time with him as you could but you didn’t understand what it meant. Something about the way he listened to you and looked at you like you were some kind of marvel as you explained your obsession with Keanu Reeves caused you to grow more and more curious about Jinyoung and it made your heart desire things you know you shouldn’t be wanting. 

The more you developed feelings for him, the harder it was going to the library and seeing him knowing that you wanted more than just the simple hellos and small talk in between the bookshelves. It’s been months since your first initial meeting and he’s done nothing to make a move on you, so you felt as if he didn’t see you that way and you accepted it for what it was. 

Right after Jackson left, Jinyoung couldn’t help but think about his words. Was it obvious that he had feelings for you? Were you aware of it? And how did you feel about him? Jinyoung wanted nothing more than to be the one you went running to whenever life got hard. Every time you would bring up how rough your day was going, he wanted to be the one to make it better. He wanted to take you out on cute little dates, stay up talking to you on the phone, hold you in his arms while looking at the sunset, learn more about your likes, dislikes, and he wanted to know how it felt to be loved by someone. By you.

He’s found himself multiple times reading excerpts from books that reminded him of you and the way your smile would light up the room. There were occasions where he would even highlight passages in some of the libraries’ books that reminded him of you and it got to the point where his manager was having him look for the culprit. As he began to come up with ways to ask you out, he didn’t even notice what time it was until you approached the desk. 

“Hey.” His breath hitched at the sight of you. You pulled out your hair from the bun it was in earlier and Jinyoung couldn’t help but stare at you in all your beauty. Whenever you would come in to the library, your hair was always in in either a braid, bun or ponytail. This was the first time he got to see how your hair framed your pretty face and he was on the verge of a breakdown. You felt self conscious under his stare and waved your hand in front of his face to break him out of his reverie and smiled to yourself when you noticed the blush that was now on his cheeks. 

“Hi, sorry. I um—sorry.” You giggled as you gave him the book you were holding. “Ah, Looking for Alaska. A great choice. The movie just came out a few weeks ago.” There he was again, telling you about the book’s movie. Whenever you went to borrow a book, if there was a movie for it, he’d always bring it up and you always wanted for him to lead it in to more. 

“Have you seen it?” He shook his head in disagreement. 

“Nope. I’ve been wanting to though.” With the confidence you didn’t know you were capable of, you spoke up, finally making your move on the handsome boy in front of you. If he didn’t harbor the same feelings for you, then you’d accept it for what it was and just stop going to the library altogether. But you wouldn’t know how the older boy felt if you didn’t ask. The worst thing he could do was say he didn’t feel the same. You could feel your heart rate increase as you began to think about what you would say to him, but the words just fell out before your mind could process them.

“Would you maybe want to watch it together sometime?”

Jinyoung could’ve sworn his heart was about to jump out of his chest at your offer. Did this mean what he could only hope and dream that it meant? “Yes! Ah—I mean I’d love to—sure—God what is going on with me today—“ the gentle kiss that was placed on his cheek made him freeze. 

“I like you, Park Jinyoung. And a little birdie might or might not have told me you like me too.”

The idea of Jackson telling you of his feelings for you made his blood boil, but he wasn’t going to let his now negative feelings for his friend ruin the moment with you that he’s been dreaming of for months. “I uh—that might be true—it is true—why can’t I form actual sentences—I like you a lot y/n. More than I’m willing to admit if I’m being honest and I’m sorry it took so long. But I’d be happy if you’d let me take you out on a date.” 

You beamed up at him while nodding in agreement and before you knew it, he exited the counter and made his way towards you. 

“Oh, and that cute little peck isn’t going to cut it.” 

As you were about to ask him what he meant, his lips were on yours. He brought his hands up to your face and cupped your cheeks while molding your lips together. His lips were chapped and rough against yours, but you loved how it felt as if your body was in flames by the ministration. Every time he would talk with you, you’d find yourself absentmindedly staring at his pretty, pouty lips and wanted nothing more than to experience what they felt like against yours. Now that you’ve had a taste, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough.

“You know y/n, we can skip the date and we can just make out in here all night.” 

You playfully shoved his arm to prevent him from seeing the effect he was having on you. He squeezed your hips while leaving soft, chaste kisses on the juncture of your neck. The feeling of how close your bodies were together as he continued showing love to your body was driving you to the brink of insanity and earned Jinyoung a breathy moan. 

“Shhhh baby, we’re in a library remember? You’re going to have to keep it down. Keep the volume up and I’m just going to have to teach you a lesson.”

[when-they-write-stuff]

Feels Like Home

fandom: teen wolf

pairing: sterek

word count: 4840

notes: a ko-fi commission for @ice-mage based on this image and i loved writing this so much! laura hale is one of my favorites.

It started when Derek went to buy coffee. 

To be fair, he hadn’t gone out into the public that morning expecting to be attacked. He’d gone out because of his sister’s insistence and because he knew she wouldn’t get off his back until he got her a proper cup of coffee. It wasn’t his fault their machine was broken during the move.

The point was, Derek hadn’t gone out in public that morning expecting to be attacked. That was completely uncalled for.

Okay, he wasn’t attacked, exactly. He was sort of attacked. He was attacked by the sudden scent of cinnamon and autumn leaves, which struck him so hard he ended up tripping over his own feet and nearly face-planting to the sidewalk.

And he probably would have if someone hadn’t caught him by the arms. Not just someone. The someone— the boy—who smelled so strongly like spices and fall that Derek had a mini heart attack and yanked back like he’d been burned. The boy squeaked in surprise at Derek’s sudden movements, stumbling back too.

“Dude, dude, I’m sorry, geez! Please don’t have a stroke on me, I’d really hate it if you had a heart attack on me. I promise, I usually watch where I’m going but my phone buzzed and it was my dad saying he had pizza and I got distracted and—”

Derek stared at the kid. He was still rambling and gesturing wildly around like that was somehow going to help his explanation. For a moment, Derek really didn’t know how to react.

Then he shook himself out of his head and realized that something was very wrong. The kid continued to rant, people continued to pass them by on the sidewalk, but Derek couldn’t smell anyone but him. The boy, the kid, the amber-eyed idiot who didn’t look any older than twenty, at most. His scent hit Derek like a tidal wave over and over again and as Derek realized something was wrong, he also realized what.

That’s when the panic attack started.

“Oh my god,” the kid said, finally cutting off with his rant. “Oh my god, I’ve broken you, haven’t I? Are you going to press charges? Are you going to punch me? Oh my god, are you going to call my dad?”

Derek blinked a few times, staring at him. It took him a long moment to regain the ability to form words. “Your dad?”

“... The Sheriff,” the kid said. Then he cursed. “I shouldn’t have said that should I? Now you know who I am. Wait, how did you not know who I am?”

Derek still didn’t know who he was. He didn’t realize he was supposed to. He just continued staring until the boy was shifting nervously and his teeth sunk down to chew on his lower lip. The red hoodie the kid wore was a little too small and his hair stuck up in all directions. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. That really shouldn’t have made Derek’s stomach clench so hard.

“Well then,” the boy said. “Seeing as you’re not injured, not broken, and not, um, talking, I’m going to make my exit now. It was terrifying to meet you!”

“Wait,” Derek said, the word spilling out before he could stop it. The kid froze and stared at him and Derek suddenly felt his face turn hot. “What is your name?”

The boy’s already pale face paled anymore. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and chuckled, before deflating. “Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

“Stiles Stilinski. The Sheriff’s kid?”

Derek hadn’t been back in Beacon Hills long enough to know who the current Sheriff’s kid was. So he only nodded dumbly and Stiles offered one last nervous smile before turning around. He all but raced away from Derek and the scent of cinnamon and autumn slowly faded with him.

Derek stood there for another few minutes. People passed him and stared, but he continued to gaze in the direction that Stiles had gone. His brain wasn’t working properly. Something was wrong.

Derek felt drunk. Which was odd, because he’d only been drunk twice in his entire life. But he felt like he’d just consumed the strongest alcohol laced with the strongest wolfsbane and everything around him was moving slowly.

Stiles. It was a ridiculously stupid name, Derek thought. And the kid had a ridiculously stupid face. Stiles. Derek had no doubts.

Stiles Stilinski was his mate.

- -

Derek didn’t actually get coffee. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgot, wandering all the way back to the apartment he and Laura rented out before he realized he’d come back empty-handed.

Laura didn’t seem too impressed.

“One job, Derek,” she said, frowning at his empty hands. “You had one job.”

Derek gazed blankly at her. Laura’s frown turned concerned.

“Okay, Der, what’s wrong with you? You look… grumpier than usual. I know you didn’t want to come back here, but I swear to god if you start complaining again—”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Derek said, cutting her off. “His name is Stiles Stilinski.”

Laura’s jaw snapped closed and her green eyes flared with interest. Derek moved over and dropped down onto the couch, before burying his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“Laura, what kind of name is Stiles Stilinski?”

“Okay,” Laura said, moving over and sinking down next to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What the hell is a Stiles?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I think he’s an idiot.”

“He’s a human?”

“He’s my mate.”

Laura froze, her hand resting on the middle of Derek’s back. Derek could’ve sworn he felt the tips of claws and he resisted the urge to whine and flash his throat. When he lifted his head and met Laura’s gaze, her eyes were slightly red and her expression was more than intrigued now.

“Laura,” Derek said. “How the hell do you woo a human?”

“A human.”

“Yes.”

“A boy.”

“The Sheriff’s kid.”

“Der,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. He did flash his throat upward a little then. “Are you sure?”

“He smells,” Derek said miserably. Laura crooked up an eyebrow and Derek felt his face turn hot as he ducked his head again.

He didn’t want to go into the fact that from the moment he’d looked at Stiles and his stupid face, he’d been bombarded by the smells that reminded him of home. Of his home, his family, and his favorite season. It was like the fall months at the Hale house when Derek’s dad would make cookies, Derek’s mom would make them rake leaves, and then they’d spend holidays, like Halloween, scaring the shit out of innocent trick-or-treaters.

“He smells like pack,” Derek said after a moment. Laura’s touch softened on his back and he felt himself melt into her touch.

Because Derek was a little terrified. The last time he thought something smelled good, it had been Kate and her perfume. Something that reminded Derek a little bit of red wine, a smell he couldn’t stand now.

But Stiles smelled nothing like that. Stiles smelled like family and safety and home. Derek hadn’t even been back in Beacon Hills for two weeks now and he was already messing up his vow to never get close to anyone from here again.

“Stiles Stilinski,” Laura said. “The Sheriff’s kid?”

“Apparently.”

“And you want to go after him?”

Derek paused for a moment. Because despite everything, it hadn’t crossed his mind that he could just ignore it. Ignore the smell, ignore Stiles, and ignore the fact that Derek had ever run into him. It was a completely accidental meeting after all. If Derek had been five minutes slower, he probably wouldn’t have run into Stiles at all.

Was this something he wanted to go after? Derek wasn’t sure.

Laura seemed to notice his indecision because she chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair and tracing her nose gently along the back of his neck before pushing herself up.

“No pressure, little bro. But if you dare go after this kid without telling me first, I will personally murder you. I want to meet him and I want to know everything about where he comes from. He doesn’t step foot into this apartment until I have details.”

Derek couldn’t help wincing at that. Because he knew there was more to the joking tone in her voice. Laura wouldn’t let anyone— even the pizza man—into their territory without a background check first.

Not after Kate.

He mumbled agreement into his hands and continued to stare at the floor. This was his decision, he realized. Whether or not he went after this Stiles Stilinski. What even was a Stiles Stilinksi?

Derek decided he wanted to find out.

- -

He wasn’t stalking Stiles, per se.

Derek wasn’t stalking Stiles, he didn’t care what it looked like. Yeah, he might have done a little bit of research on the kid. He might have figured out that he was home for the summer, on his second year at MIT, and had an internship from the FBI tucked in his belt.

But Derek wasn’t stalking Stiles. He just knew that the kid was staying with his dad across town, worked a summer shift at the bookstore nearby, and often bought coffee for his dad and the other deputies during his lunch break.

But Derek wasn’t stalking him. He was just interested.

So when Derek went down to the bookstore that Stiles worked at, it was purely out of interest. He didn’t even look toward the front desk as he slipped into the store, moving quickly behind the bookshelves and out of sight.

The scent of cinnamon and autumn leaves in the shop was overwhelming. Derek did his best not to close his eyes and just smell it, but it was hard. Shaking his head, he glanced over the shelves of books and realized he had wandered into the religious section.

Someone came into view and Derek froze as he realized it was Stiles.

Stiles paused too. Then a small nervous grin flitted across across his face and he leaned against the closest bookshelf, crooking up a brow.

“You’re not following me now, are you Sourpuss?”

Derek blinked at him. He was pretty sure words were possible, but at the moment, even the act of breathing fled him. Stiles barked out a laugh and waved a hand through the air.

“I’m joking, dude. I’m joking! You just look like you’re about to have a heart attack which, as we agreed on when we first met, would be very unfortunate for me. I don’t know the rules of involuntary manslaughter, but I’m pretty sure it’d be awkward for my dad if he had to arrest me.”

Derek nodded silently. Stiles grinned.

“So, can I help you find anything? Some Old Testament, maybe?”

Derek finally remembered he was surrounded by the literal Bible and quickly shook his head. “This isn’t the section I was looking for.”

“Ah,” Stiles said. “Well, I can help you find the poetry books if you want. Or maybe some Jane Austen? You look like a ‘classics’ man.”

Derek didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t really know how to answer anything Stiles said so he just nodded again. Stiles chuckled and started off across the bookstore.

“Well, here we have some Ernest Hemingway, here’s some George Orwell, and oh! Jane Austen. That lady wrote a mean Pride and Prejudice, you know.”

Derek was faintly aware that Stiles was still talking, but he was too focused on the boy’s face to pay attention to what he was saying. Stiles’s skin was pale and dotted with moles, and Derek really shouldn’t be concentrating so hard on his lips. The kid’s eyes were amber, but Derek thought when they caught the light, they looked a little golden.

“Uh,” Stiles said, and Derek realized with a blush how hard he’d been staring. “See anything you like, dude?”

“I wasn’t staring.”

Stiles blinked a few times. Then a lopsided smile cracked across his face and he shook his head. “I meant the books, Sourpuss. You feeling alright?”

“Fine,” Derek said. He turned to glare at the bookshelf as if it’d personally offended him and then grabbed the first book within reach. Stiles whistled.

“Fahrenheit 451. You could have worse tastes.”

Derek wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or insult. Or maybe it was neither.

He followed Stiles toward the back of the shop and paid for his book. He left a hefty tip and ignored Stiles’s protests when the boy tried to hand it back. Grabbing his book and receipt, Derek put on his best smile.

“Thanks for the help, Stiles.”

“Thanks for basically paying for my lunch, dude.”

Derek blushed and turned away, doing his best not to run from the shop. It was really hard, though, and he felt Stiles’s eyes burning into his back the whole way out. The bell over the exit rang and Derek was pretty sure he shut the door a little too hard.

Laura was at the apartment when he arrived back, still a little red-faced and fighting a smile. She sat at the table with a mug of tea but the second her gaze zeroed in on where he stood, her eyebrows shot up and she was moving across the room, taking his shoulders and sniffing in deep.

Derek tensed. Laura glanced up and searched his face. “You smell different.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Derek,” she said, eyeing him up and down. A smirk formed on her lips as she saw the bag he held and she snatched it up before Derek could protest, dancing away. Derek clenched his jaw and glared as Laura dug out his book, looked at the cover, and then proceeded to throw back her head with a laugh.

“Shut up,” Derek growled. Laura grinned at him.

“You hate old books!”

“I do not.”

“When we were kids you threw Hemingway out the window because you said it was rotting your brain.”

“It was,” Derek grumbled, stalking toward her and ripping the book out of her hands. It still smelled faintly like Stiles. “But I thought this one looked interesting.”

“What’s it about?”

Derek glanced back down at the cover and frowned even harder. “Really hot temperatures.”

Laura’s cackling picked up a level.

Derek glared at her and set the book on the coffee table. In truth, he probably wasn’t even going to read it. Maybe smell it once or twice more. But he wasn’t ever going to read it.

Laura was watching him knowing from the table when Derek dropped onto a chair across from her. She rested her chin on her hands and grinned.

“So, have you made your decision yet?”

“I just like the way he smells,” Derek said, looking down at his hands. “It’s... like before, Laura. It’s like before the fire.”

Her smile faded a little. Laura reached across the table and caught his hand, giving it a good squeeze. Derek swallowed hard and found he couldn’t meet her gaze again. They didn’t often talk about it. The fire, that was.

He’d always thought leaving Beacon Hills had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But now Derek was starting to wonder if returning to it was.

“It’s strange,” he said. “I don’t understand why.”

“It’s ‘mate’,” Laura said, shrugging. “It’s not something all werewolves find. You’re lucky.

“He’s still an idiot.”

“But an idiot you’re planning on going after?”

Derek didn’t answer for a long moment, his memory snapping back to Stiles and his grin and his dancing amber eyes. Then quietly, he nodded, and Laura’s scent warmed across from him.

“Then, little bro, I’m going to teach you how to woo a human.”

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was pretty sure he didn’t need any help, especially not from Laura. He could do this by himself.

- -

He could not do this by himself.

Or at least, maybe he shouldn’t. That’s what Derek realized when he spent five hours at the coffee shop for the next week and a half, waiting to see if Stiles would show up. He wasn’t sure if he kept missing the boy, if he had the wrong coffee shop, or if he was just wrong and Stiles didn’t buy his dad and deputies coffee.

But that had been a Facebook update status. Derek was pretty sure he did.

He was such a stalker.

On the tenth day, still ignoring Laura and her attempts to help, Derek trudged back into the coffee shop. The waitress knew his order by now and she’d given up trying to flirt with him on day four. Now, she just brought over his mocha, offered a polite smile, and turned away to attend to the other customers.

Derek leaned back in the same chair of the same table he’d laid claim to a week ago and proceeded to wait.

He didn’t have to wait very long.

Stiles came flouncing through not an hour later, closely followed by a slightly older man with light brown hair. The man wore a deputy’s outfit and was smiling fondly as Stiles talked, the boy waving his hands through the air as he punctuated each word.

The smell of the coffee shop filled with Stiles’s scent. It was like cinnamon and coffee and Derek didn’t think he ever wanted to leave.

He sat there for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Then he realized that he was basically hiding in the furthest corner of the cafe, partially hidden by a protruding wall, and there was no way Stiles was going to see him.

Derek panicked. Before he could even think he was pushing himself up, his coffee was tipping over, and a half-empty mocha was spilling across the tabletop.

Derek supposed that was one way to make a scene.

He stood there for a moment wondering how this was possibly his life when suddenly the smell of cinnamon and autumn was overwhelming. Derek spun around and Stiles yelped, stumbling a few feet back.

“Woah, Fahrenheit 451 dude, it’s me! The kid from the sidewalk, the one from the bookstore? Let’s avoid the heart attacks today!”

The kid had a handful of napkins in his hand and he offered them out as he regained his balance. Derek was pretty sure his face was fifty shades of red and he took them gratefully, turning toward the mess.

“Thanks.”

“So, you here for the coffee or the company?”

Derek tensed, frozen in place. There was no way Stiles could know Derek was here waiting for him. No way in hell. Unless he was a mind reader or something. “What company?”

“You meeting anyone here?”

Derek instantly felt himself relaxing. He finished wiping up the coffee and turned back around, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No. Just here for the coffee.”

“Wise choice,” Stiles said. “It’s the best in the town, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I make a pretty mean cup of black coffee. But that’s beside the point.”

Derek chuckled. Stiles studied his face before tilting his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering. “So, how goes the book? Have you finished it yet? Ready to come to the bookstore for another?”

The book. What book? Derek stared at him for a long moment before it hit.

“Oh, it’s great.”

“Yeah? I read that in high school and didn’t mind it much. Got a favorite part?”

Derek’s mind went blank. “The… hot temperatures part?”

Stiles’s eyebrows flew up. Derek felt a lump forming in his throat and then Stiles snorted, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re hilarious, dude.”

Derek’s face turned warm and he grinned.

Then suddenly, the other man Stiles had come in with was approaching, a tray of coffee in hand. Stiles’s face brightened even more and Derek’s stomach did something strange at that. Something uncomfortable.

“Dude,” Stiles said, beckoning to the deputy. “This is Deputy Parrish, my dad’s literal favorite deputy. Parrish, this is… this is… dude, who are you?”

Parrish raised an eyebrow and Derek resisted the urge to growl at that. He tried to focus on Stiles, not the ‘Sheriff’s favorite Deputy’. “Derek Hale.”

“Parrish this is—Derek Hale?”

Derek didn’t know what to do with Stiles’s shocked tone. The boy and deputy exchanged looks and then Stiles shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m not freaking out. It’s just, dude. The Hale’s haven’t been in Beacon Hills since… uh...” Stiles trailed off and Derek ground his teeth together. He offered his best smile and nodded, although suddenly all he wanted to do was get out.

“My sister and I are back in town for the foreseeable future.”

“You two should come by the station sometime,” Parrish said. “The current Sheriff was there the night of the fire. I’m sure he’d like to welcome you both back.”

Derek really wanted to snap at the man, but he didn’t even have a good reason why. So instead, he nodded tightly and started to brush by. But to his surprise, Stiles caught his arm before he could make his escape.

“You will come by,” the boy asked, amber eyes catching the overhead light. “Right?”

Derek glanced from him, to Parrish, and then nodded once. He pulled out of Stiles’s grip and did his best not to stalk out of the cafe.

He was pretty sure he failed.

- -

So maybe Derek was willing to admit he needed help. He didn’t like it, he didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he did.

Laura was ecstatic.

“Okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “First, I need to see this kid.”

“Why.”

“Because, Der, he’s my little brother’s mate! Wait, don’t tell me. He hates puppies and thinks thunderstorms are the only reason to keep living.”

Derek gave her a flat look. Laura rolled her eyes.

“I’m joking, Der, I’m joking. I’m sure he’s quite lovely and fun.”

“He’s something alright.”

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. He didn’t actually think Laura had been serious. But when she crossed her arms and waited, he sighed. “We could go to the Sheriff’s station.”

“The Sheriff’s station?”

“He invited me.”

“Aw,” Laura said, eyes dancing. “How cute!”

“Shut up.”

She only grinned and patted him on the head, starting into her bedroom and announcing they were leaving in an hour. Derek rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure this was a bad idea and had no doubts it wasn’t going to end well. But he’d learned long ago not to tell Laura no.

Which might have been how an hour later, Derek was standing in the Sheriff’s office with Laura at his side. He hadn’t been here in years but it was like nothing had changed.

Some of the faces had, maybe. Derek didn’t remember much from his time here. He’d been in shock, in mourning, and hadn’t left Laura’s side except to give his statement.

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat and gazed around. He tensed as an older man approached; one with faint hints of Stiles’s scent, but nothing compared to the boy himself. The man wore the Sheriff’s badge, Derek realized. And he instantly straightened.

“Good afternoon,” the Sheriff said, glancing between them. “Can I help you two?”

Derek felt his face turn hot. Why had he come here again?

But then someone was calling his name and Stiles made a beeline across the office. Derek nearly slumped in on himself in relief and standing by his side, Laura straightened in interest.

“Dad, father-mine, pops,” Stiles said in excitement. “This is Derek!”

“Derek,” the Sheriff said. “Derek Hale?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I heard you’ve recently come back to town?”

“A month ago, sir.”

The Sheriff nodded his approval and Derek glanced sideways at his sister. She looked like she was going to say something too, but then another deputy was approaching. Parrish, Derek realized with a slightly sour feeling.

Except Laura suddenly straightened. Derek could’ve sworn her eyes flashed red, Stiles’s jaw dropped open, and then Laura was making a beeline for the door.

Parrish paused next to the Sheriff, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. And Stiles—Stiles was looking at Derek with a baffled expression. His scent had changed, Derek realized. He smelled excited, confused, and shocked all at once.

Derek’s stomach twisted.

“S-sorry, sir,” he said, backing after his sister. “Laura hasn’t been feeling well. It was, uh, nice to meet you?”

The Sheriff nodded once. Derek offered a small smile and then all but fled after Laura.

He found her outside, pacing back and forth the empty sidewalk and growling. Derek caught her arm and when she looked at him, her eyes flashed red. Derek swallowed a whine and tightened his grip.

“Laura, what’s happening?”

“Nothing.”

“Laura—”

“He smells.”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “He…?”

“The deputy.”

Derek stared at her for a moment. Then he let go to turn away and mask his sudden laughter. It served her right to be making fun of him for the past month to suddenly be faced with her own crisis. Laura smacked him over the back of the head and Derek smirked at her, all teeth.

“Smells, Laura?”

“Shut up.”

“Smells like what, old memories, new ones, possibilities?”

“He smells like mom,” Laura hissed. “Like her burning food in the kitchen, taking care of the pups, making sure no one hurt the pack—”

Laura suddenly cut off and straightened. Derek turned around to see Stiles standing in the doorway of the building, looking more than a little awkward. The boy wiggled his fingers through the air and Laura patted Derek on the shoulder before moving back into the Sheriff’s station.

Derek just stood there.

“So,” Stiles said, approaching carefully. “Werewolves.”

And Derek froze.

His eyes must have turned bright blue because the boy squeaked and threw his hands up. Stiles’s heart thudded against his chest and Derek was pretty sure his did too. Because Stiles wasn’t supposed to know. No one was supposed to know. Not again, not like Kate—

“My best friend’s a werewolf,” Stiles said quickly. “He was turned by a rogue alpha when we were in high school and he’s even got his own pack across the country now. I, uh, didn’t realize it until your sister’s eyes.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Stiles flinched. “Are you mad that I know?”

Was he? Derek didn’t think so. Suddenly, it felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders and all he could do was shake his head. Stiles grinned.

“Good, because that’s totally so cool, dude! I mean, I thought I saw blue sometimes, but I was never sure. And I was pretty sure you growled at Parrish when you first met him but I mean, I thought maybe that was just a fetish or something.”

“A fetish?”

“There are some weird people out there, dude.”

Derek stared at him. Stiles nervously wet his lips, tucking his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

“Not that I thought you were weird. A little stalkerish, maybe, after you started following me everywhere and accidentally liked one of my posts on Facebook from five years ago.”

Derek’s heart stopped. He hadn’t even realized he’d done that.

“But, uh, I don’t mind,” Stiles said. “You know. You don’t have terrible taste in books for anything.”

“I hate ‘classic’ books,” Derek said suddenly, the words spilling out. Stiles straightened, eyes widening, and then a surprised laugh burst out of his lips. It made Derek’s heart flip.

“Dude! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Do you want to get a coffee?”

That spilled out before Derek could stop it too. He listened to Stiles’s heart skip a beat, caught the sudden change of his scent, and Derek nearly wilted in on himself. But then Stiles grinned from ear to ear and nodded. And Derek didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved or happy.

“Really?”

“Or dinner,” Sties said, winking. “I know this excellent pizza place.”

“Pizza?”

“Or Italian,” Stiles said quickly, looking suddenly nervous again. “Or Mexican, or Chinese, or—”

“Pizza’s good,” Derek said. Stiles cut off and another brilliant smile cracked across his face.

“Well then,” the boy said, moving a little closer. He tilted his head up and studied Derek’s face, long eyelashes fluttering. “It’s nearly something o’clock. You wanna take me now?”

Derek was pretty sure he growled. Stiles’s teeth sunk into his lower lip.

“Is that a yes?”

“Dammit, Stiles—” His scent. Standing there on the street, only a little ways from where Stiles had first nearly bowled him over, Derek was pretty sure he’d never smelled anything better.

It was like spices and autumn leaves. It was like sitting around the fireplace with his family, watching his siblings roll around in the leaves, smelling the cocoa his father would make on a cold day. His scent was like family. It surrounded him like pack.

It felt like home.

“Let’s go now,” Derek said, voice cracking. Stiles beamed.

- -

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[andipxndy-writes]

holiday mishaps (part 2)

fandom: alex rider x ncis [crossover] warnings: typical ncis stuff requested by: @lilcoffeecup word count: 7.6k

cross posted to ao3

summary: Alex Rider just wanted a relaxing holiday, somewhere where he could relax without any trouble cropping up. And with Jack and her family, he almost got that. ALMOST. And then he had to go and take a midnight walk. On the other hand... Ziva David swears she recognises the fair-haired witness to their murder case.

holiday mishaps

To say that Alex had had a strange day so far was likely an understatement. Well, it was more like a strange day and night, but it was pretty much all melded into one for him.

First of all, the fact that he hadn’t had a wink of sleep was throwing him off big time. He was used to sleepless nights, sure, but that was mostly from insomnia or, you know, terrible nightmares that kept him up for hours on end. Not being forced to stay up to keep an eye on a guy bleeding to death beneath his hands and then waiting for the paramedics to arrive and then waiting for the federal officers to arrive so that he could be questioned. Jack arriving had been a godsend until she started asking what the hell was going on and why he was being questioned about a man dying… and why he had blood all over his hands. Those questions had, fortunately enough, been easy to answer. He hadn’t been involved in the original situation, only in attempting to save the man and then prolonging his eventual death. He had nothing to hide.

The answers had been harder to explain to her family when they’d finally returned home and he looked and felt dead on his feet. As far as they knew, Alex was a bright-eyed teen with a couple of scars probably from his martial arts or fighting at school. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. So him coming home with blood on his hands and t-shirt and a ripped bag of shopping from the corner store (which he’d definitely got looks from Jack for) was shocking to say the least.

Luckily enough, Jack took on the responsibility of fielding off all the questions whilst he hopped into the shower, but she wasn’t exactly able to save him from her nephews going in and pestering him when he’d landed on his bed. He supposed his snoring was enough to put them off then.

He was woken what felt like a good while later by someone poking his shoulder a few times, which he was almost tempted to brush off. Until he realised exactly who it could have been, considering Jack was more the type to push him off the bed completely and make sure he woke up on the floor feeling a lot groggier than he would feel otherwise. Opening one eye, he turned his head to see it was one of her nephews, his “cousin” Pete, poking him in the shoulder to wake him up. He stopped as soon as he saw Alex’s one open eye, waiting to see if Alex would do anything.

Alex didn’t want to do anything.

“What?” he grumbled, almost tempted to close that eye again and go straight back to sleep until someone (probably Jack) came to get him for dinner or something. Heck, he’d just remembered that he hadn’t even had lunch, or breakfast. Was he over-hungry?

He was so drawn into his thoughts that he almost missed the question thrown at him.

“Where did you go last night?”

Sighing, Alex closed his one open eye again before pushing himself up into a sitting position. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get much more sleep now, so he may as well start to wake himself up so that he could get something to eat. Last he remembered, Jack had had his snacks that he’d brought back. She’d probably taken them and hidden them somewhere so that he couldn’t get to them after everything that had happened the night before.

Thanks, Jack.

“I went out to get snacks,” Alex mumbled in response, hoping that that was enough of an answer and that he could go and get food. Now that he was waking up a bit more, he was starting to feel hungry.

Unfortunately (and Alex could have predicted this very easily), that wasn’t enough of an answer for him.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t take you all night to get snacks.”

He had a point there. It didn’t take anyone all night to get snacks. Unless you were Alex Rider and trouble seemed to follow you everywhere you went. At least this time, it was less him getting into trouble and more him finding trouble and trying to get someone else out of it. Not that he had succeeded or anything.

“Yeah, I know that,” he answered. “But I got held up.” Which was putting it lightly. And it wasn’t as if he’d had to stop or anything. He’d chosen to do it, to try and help someone, and it had ended up being more of an all night ordeal. Was that enough of an explanation for this guy? Giving Pete a brief glance, Alex recalled exactly how old he was: thirteen.

There was no way he was going to expose him to that sort of thing at thirteen.

“By what?”

“Some trouble near the store. I had to get around it.”

Alex pretty much knew that this was a lame explanation, and he knew that it wasn’t the sort of thing that he would have accepted at his age either, but he also had standards, and he had a sort of god-complex. At least, that was what Tom had told him when he said he felt the need to protect people from his world. It was just a shame he’d ended up dragging his best friend into it.

The soured expression on the teenaged boy’s face was enough to tell Alex that he didn’t quite accept the explanation, but his lack of a comment meant that he wasn't going to press. Good.

“Where’s Jack?” he asked curiously as he pushed himself off the bed and to his feet. The boy seemed to hesitate again, somehow knowing that this was a cop-out, before answering.

“She’s downstairs, helping with dinner.”

Dinner. His stomach grumbled at the thought of food, before he realised what time it had to be for Jack to be helping out with dinner. In simple words: late.

“You know where there are any snacks to carry us through to dinner?” Alex asked, and he hoped the small smirk on his face was enough to melt whatever suspicious wall had been thrown up by the boy.

The mention of snacks seemed to be enough to get the wall to come down, and the boy grinned before beckoning Alex towards him with a finger, and then led him out of the room. It seemed almost as if they were trying to avoid getting in trouble as they snuck towards the stairs and down to the first floor, where Alex presumed everyone would be — and also the spare room that Jack was sleeping in with one of her nieces. As soon as they reached the door, a quick knock and a lack of an answer told them that there was no one in the room, and the pair of them snuck in, shutting the door behind them.

“I saw Jack bring your snacks in here this morning,” Pete whispered to Alex, and Alex’s eyes lit up. At least she hadn’t got rid of his late night hoard… and for helping him out, he was definitely sharing with the kid beside him.

“Do you have any idea where she could have put it?” he asked, though he didn’t know why. If anyone had any idea where Jack his stuff in this room, it would be him.

When the boy gave a small shrug and shook his head, he knew that was more than an answer. He should have asked himself.

Which was what he did next. He asked himself: Where would Jack hide his stash of midnight snacks if she didn’t want anyone to find them? This was assuming, of course, that she knew he was going to sneak in there eventually and steal them back. Then again, she knew him pretty well — she probably knew that he would have tried to steal them back eventually.

Glancing around the room, he realised there were probably only two places that she could’ve hidden the bag, and he was more than a little disappointed in her for it. The room was set up with two single beds, for Jack and her niece, and at the foot of each bed was an open suitcase of clothes even though there were a wardrobe and a dresser in the room for each of them to use for their clothes. To be fair, even Alex hadn’t hung up his clothes in his room, and he was sharing with only one other guy who visited so often that he basically lived in the house and had his own clothes kept there anyway. As Jack’s suitcase was open, and there were no huge lumps in it, there wasn’t a chance that the clothes were hiding the snacks that he’d bought. (Plus, the bag was ripped and had got some blood on it — there was no way Jack would put that with her clean clothes.) The windowsill was clear, of course, but that wouldn’t have really been a hiding place. It was open and too obvious, and Alex probably would have been able to climb in through the window to steal them back. (Not that he would do that in someone else’s house.

That left the wardrobe, since the drawers of the dresser were too narrow for the clothes to be kept in, and underneath the beds. The two places that she could have hidden the bag.

Heading over to the wardrobe, he pulled open one door to see what was in there. Contrary to what he’d previously thought, some of Jack’s clothes had been hung up in there ready for her to wear. He had a feeling, though, that these clothes were ones that had been washed by her mother, along with some of the shoes that she had brought along with them. It wasn’t as if the older woman would let her daughter fold her clothes and put them right back into the suitcase to get all crumpled up. That meant, unfortunately, that he had to dig around and look behind the clothes and shoes to see whether the bag was actually in there, rather than just spotting it at first glance like he’d originally hoped. He turned back towards Pete, who was awkwardly standing just a little behind him.

“Take a look under the beds,” he suggested. “Maybe the bag’s under one of them. I’ll look in here.”

The boy scrunched up his nose at the thought of getting on his hands and knees and looking under the bed for a bag of snacks. “Under the beds? On the floor?”

“Do you want those snacks or not?”

It took less than a couple of moments for the boy to apparently decide that he really did want those snacks, and he turned towards the beds and got on his hands and knees, apparently deciding to go for his sister’s bed first. Probably not Alex’s first thought, but he supposed it was a decent idea. Hide the stuff with her roommate instead of with her own stuff. Smart.

Before Alex could start a proper search, however, he heard some chatter from outside the door and he froze. He recognised at least one of the voices.

“Okay, let me just get a jacket and then I’ll go with you—”

He turned towards the boy kneeling on the floor with wide eyes, and he stared at him right back.

“Hide!”

As the boy scrambled underneath the bed, Alex jumped into the wardrobe and shut the door as much as he could, hoping that Jack hadn’t decided to keep her jacket in there and had instead opted for keeping it in her suitcase. A few moments later the door opened, and Alex stared out through the little gap he’d left in the door to see what was going on.

Jack had walked into the room, just as he’d thought would happen and, luckily enough, she headed straight for her suitcase instead of over to the wardrobe. He let out a near-silent breath of relief as she dug around the suitcase a little before pulling out a jacket and putting it on, turning and heading back towards the door.

“Alright, I’m coming!”

A few footsteps and a bit of chatter later and the door shut behind her, and Alex let out a larger breath of relief and waited for the sound of footsteps outside the door to disappear before pushing the wardrobe door open, climbing out slowly. He was both surprised and a little disappointed that they hadn’t got caught — he’d thought Jack was better at finding hiding people than that.

“You can come out now,” he called out quietly, and the younger boy crawled out from under his sister’s bed with a grin, dragging a ripped bag with snacks in it out behind him.

“Found the snacks.”

Alex grinned in response. “I think you’ve just become my new favourite cousin.”

***

The moment Alex realised that all of the snacks were there, the boys quickly realised that they didn’t want to stay in the room to eat the snacks. After all, they didn’t know how long Jack would be, and they also didn’t know whether she would randomly come back because she needed something or if Pete’s sister would end up coming back into the room because she wanted something from her own luggage. They just needed to get out of there and back to Alex’s room so that they could chill with their snacks. It was a brilliant plan, really.

Their only problem was making it to the staircase.

Of course, Alex knew that once they managed to get to the staircase they’d be free, able to go up to the room he was staying in and just snack until dinner. Both of them were hungry enough that no one would really notice if they snacked before dinner, and even if they weren’t all too hungry by the time dinner rolled around Alex was pretty good at stuffing his face now. Visiting friends’ houses and being given a lot of food by their mothers on the pretense that he was a growing boy who needed to eat more than enough to grow meant that he had to be good at it, because wasting other people’s food was rude.

Getting to the stairs was definitely the hard part, though. As soon as they emerged from Jack’s room, the pair of them heard chatter coming from one of the other ground floor rooms. Obviously, everyone was probably downstairs getting dinner ready and casually chatting about stuff like sports or food or whatever it was adults spoke about when they were together and not around kids, but the tone of the conversation sounded… formal. Hushed. Quiet. It sounded important, and Alex was suddenly very curious. Whenever adults were having important adulting conversations, they were usually the kinds of things that were very good to eavesdrop on.

Curse his naturally spying nature. It had got him into far too much trouble as it was.

Pausing at the base of the stairs, he was very tempted to step back and listen in on the conversation. But he was also very aware that he was with someone right then, and that they were both hungry and needing snacks before dinner. Alex was very aware of the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day, and his stomach was protesting against any sort of spying at that moment in time.

The boy watched him curiously. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

Alex took a couple of moments to decide. Did he do it? Did he leave it? Do it, leave it… do it… leave it…

He was going to do it.

“I just want to listen in on something real quick,” he answered quietly, passing the snacks over before heading towards the archway to the living room. “I’ll be right here by the door. It won’t take long.”

Pete stared at him skeptically, as if what Alex was saying made no sense. “You’re going to listen in on the adults’ conversation?”

Alex couldn’t believe he’d got it in one.

“They’ll catch you before you can hear anything important.”

That just sounded like he was speaking from experience. “It’s alright,” Alex answered, trying to resist a smirk. “I’m kind of used to doing this.” Part of him wanted to add on that it was basically his job to do things like that, but that would be going too far. Plus, it would bring up all sorts of questions that a teenaged boy really shouldn’t be asking him.

Then again, he was also a teenager. If another teen couldn’t ask him those sorts of questions, who could?

Ignoring how anxious and unsure the boy seemed to be behind him, Alex moved to stand just beside the entryway to the room, hoping to at least catch snippets of the conversation going on in the room. Even if he didn’t get much, trying to listen out for something would probably sate his curiosity more than trying to forget about the whole thing and heading straight up to get snacks — he would probably be far too irritated with himself for not taking the opportunity he was practically handed on a silver platter.

For a few moments, he didn’t really hear anything that was being said in the room. After all, they were speaking in pretty hushed voices, so it wasn’t as if he would be able to hear anything until he was purposefully trying to listen out for something. Eventually, though, he actually heard something interesting and worth eavesdropping on.

“I can’t believe those agents actually thought we had something to do with that poor man’s death. As if our family has anything to do with that sort of thing.”

“They were just asking out of courtesy, mom. It’s their job to cover all the bases, just to make sure they actually catch whoever did this.”

“But to think that we had something to do with this—”

“It’s a part of their job to get closure for the man’s family, mom. What if it had been one of us? Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to ask every possible person who could have been involved?”

“What was that boy doing out late on his own anyway? He should have at least had someone to go with him. You should have gone with him, for God’s sake!”

“Jack said he’d be fine on his own, and he was. He tried to save a man’s life, and even though he didn’t succeed that was a good thing, mom. He showed real courage. He could have walked off and left him to die alone.”

“He should have walked off instead of getting involved in something like that. The poor boy could be scarred from something like that.”

“Oh come on, honey, he did a good thing. He was raised right, and Jackie definitely played a part in that. Knowing that she raised someone with such a good heart, aren’t you proud of her?”

“I’d be prouder if we were talking about her own child, instead of someone else’s child she became a guardian for.”

“Oh come on, mom. That’s more than a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Alex decided this would be a good point to start zoning out. He didn’t really like listening to people talk about him like this. Not just because it was a private thing, but people didn’t really have anything good to say about him behind his back and he was speaking from a lot of experience. He was an orphan with no remaining family that he knew of. His own godfather was dead (and he’d been involved in his death) and had been the reason his parents had died. He didn’t really like hearing about his own family life and how he didn’t quite fit into the typical idea of a family life. He didn’t blame people for thinking the way they did about his life and the way he grew up, but it did hurt a little bit.

But then the conversation switched again, drawing Alex right back in.

“What did they ask you about?”

“Oh, they asked me about any sort of connection to the guy who was killed, you know. Standard questions. The sort of thing you want to ask to figure out if someone is a suspect.”

“And?”

“I’m not involved with the guy, mom. I knew of him, yeah, but we never really spoke with each other. I didn’t even know him. Everyone spread rumours about him and I kind of… stayed away. And that’s exactly what I told them.”

“They didn’t ask you about what you knew about Alex?”

Alex’s ears perked up at this.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know anything about him. And I told them that. Alex isn’t from our family, he’s an orphan that Jack has been caring for for years. What else was there to tell?”

“If anyone had anything else to say, it would’ve been Jack, right? She would’ve told them what they needed to hear.”

“I mean, she told me she just told them that he was a school kid who knows martial arts and has a heart for helping and protecting people. Said he might be in the military one day, or something like that.”

Alex had to resist the urge to snort at that. One day, huh? He was, technically, already in military intelligence. He worked for the British government. Or at least, he had since he was fourteen. He had more enemies than a teenager should, come face-to-face with more guns than a gang member, and had visited more countries than most people had even if he hadn’t seen as many sights or had as many holiday photos.

“So nothing really incriminating or anything? He’s just a regular kid?”

“A regular kid who she loves enough to take a break in her major for.”

Alex could tell from the tone that that was always a sore spot for the family, or at least Jack’s parents. After all, she hadn’t gone into the military like her family was known for. She wanted to go and do law, and she hadn’t even finished with that. Granted, Jack had agreed that as soon as he started his A-Levels she would go ahead and start on her degree again, but he had yet to see her sign up or try to find somewhere to do it. He was beginning to think that he would have to push her to make sure that she actually did it rather than just saying that she would. Otherwise her family would be less than pleased, and they would end up attending university together.

Not that he would mind attending university with Jack, but the idea of it was weird when she had, at one point, been the person taking care of him whilst she had attended university.

“Oh come on, no need to talk about Alex like that. He needed someone, and Jack had the heart to be that someone for him instead of throwing him into the foster system like someone else would have.”

“I just wish she’d thought a bit more about herself.”

And that was where Alex decided to zone out of the conversation again. He had heard enough — they’d been interviewed again, and the whole death had been the topic of the conversation. He had also been a topic of conversation. He already knew that there was some tension there when it came to Jack taking care of him, no matter how nice they were to his face — there always had been.

Not that the whole thing would have been a problem if her family had sent her money whilst she was studying in the U.K., but he wasn’t going to touch on that right then. That sort of thing just upset him.

So he turned back to the stairs, where the boy was waiting for him, and headed over. He guessed he had some sort of dark or upset look on his face, because the boy looked unsure for a few moments, so he smoothed over his expression and forced on a believable smile.

“You ready for an ultimate pre-dinner snack time?” he asked, and the boy watched him cautiously for a few moments before a grin cracked on his own face.

“Yeah, I’m more than ready for this.”

And with that, the two boys raced up the stairs, not quite caring that they could be heard from the lounge where everyone was sitting. They had what they needed. They weren’t going to get into trouble now.

***

“Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

Ziva was staring at the screen in front of her, staring at the image of the dead Petty Officer on the screen. There were various pieces to the puzzle, but something just didn’t click. The pieces weren’t fitting together quite right.

There was one piece missing, and she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Granted, none of the others could quite figure out what it was, but something was telling her that it was on her to figure out what the missing piece was. And she was feeling the pressure whether she liked it or not.

Of course, the other two didn’t see that there was a piece missing — at least, not the piece that she was thinking about. Which is why when she made the comment, both males looked up at her in mild confusion.

“Something like… what?” McGee asked slowly.

Ziva gave a little huff, trying to figure out how to put it. It was bad enough that English was a second language for her — she couldn’t even think of how to phrase it in Hebrew before translating it into English. This was going to be more than a little difficult. “It is… uh…” She gave a huff. “Okay, I am… I have a dilemma.” When Tony’s eyebrows rose in response, she decided to rephrase it in a way that didn’t seem so suspicious or strange. “I have a case of… well, of déja vu.”

“Déja vu?” Tony leaned back in his seat, tilting his head a little as he watched Ziva. Ziva didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get or read from her, but she brushed it off. Tony could be weird sometimes — and a bit of a creep at others.

“Yes.”

“You mean you’ve seen him before?” McGee typed a few keys on his keyboard, and the face of the dead Petty Officer appeared on the screen.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at the screen, and the photo of the dead man, before shaking her head. She might have seen the man in passing once or twice (though even that was unlikely considering she didn’t really spend that much time in Quantico), but it wasn’t his face that gave her the strange feeling. “No. Not him. I mean, maybe I have seen him, but he is not the one I’m speaking about.”

“Then who…?” Tony started, only for McGee to bring up another photo on the screen.

The photo of the teen they’d met.

“This kid?” McGee asked, looking from the screen to Ziva.

She nodded, snapping her fingers and pointing at the screen. “Yes! Him. There is… there is something about him. Something familiar.”

When she only received frowns from the other two, she supposed she could understand why. After all, Alex was only a teenager, and a British one at that. There was very little chance that they would have crossed paths, unless she had perhaps been on a holiday to the UK at some point, or if Alex had been on a previous holiday to Israel. Which meant that either she was imagining a previous meeting, that hse had seen his face somewhere before, or that they had in fact crossed paths at some point.

Ziva didn’t think herself creative enough to imagine a meeting… but she couldn't quite pinpoint where exactly she could have met or seen the teen before…

“He’s just a British school kid,” Tony pointed out, and Ziva realised that her thoughts must have been showing on her face as they ran through her mind. “Where would you have met him before?”

“I do not know.” But now Ziva was determined to find out. “I will have to ask around.”

“About a teenaged boy?” McGee didn’t exactly scoff, but Ziva could hear the scoffing tone in his voice. Honestly, even she was wondering how far she would get with that through her contacts considering he was literally a child, but she felt the need to follow the lead. A strong need.

At that precise moment, of course, Gibbs walked into the bullpen and headed straight to his desk. Ziva didn’t know what exactly he’d been doing before, but he had a cup of coffee and looked ready to settle down and get some sort of paperwork done or look through some emails… if he even did that anymore. (She was beginning to wonder whether he had even done that in the first place, or whether McGee just did it all for him.) She decided that now was her best chance. She could feel Tony and McGee’s stares, but ignored both of them as she headed over to Gibbs’ desk, leaning on it. “Uh, Gibbs?”

Gibbs barely glanced up when she spoke. “You need permission to do something?” he asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement with his tone.

“I would like to go and question Alex again.”

This time Gibbs did look up at her, glancing at her over his reading glasses. “Alex?”

“Yes.” When he didn’t press further, she took it as her cue to elaborate for him. “I believe… well, I am of the strong opinion that he knows something that he hasn’t yet told us.”

Gibbs stared at her for a few moments, before, “And you think that if you go to him, he’ll tell you.”

“Yes.” It was a long shot, she could tell that even Gibbs thought of it that way, but it was better than nothing. It would get her constant thinking about him off her mind, and would also get them that little bit further on the case if he actually knew something that could be useful to them. The only way they could lose out would be if his family got agitated and stopped them from talking to him again, which she supposed was likely.

The elder agent stared at her for a few more moments, seemingly trying to read something on her face, before he looked back at his computer screen. “Sure. Go ahead.” Whatever he’d seen on her face, he was satisfied with it.

Ziva barely spared Gibbs a smile before she headed to her desk, grabbing her coat, phone, badge and gun. She could feel Tony’s stare burning straight into her as she did so, and she was very tempted to tell him to just spit out what he was thinking instead of just staring at her — it was pretty frustrating.

But she didn’t want to waste time on a little fight with Tony. So she just grabbed her things, and headed straight out.

***

Alex, if he was being honest, really enjoyed spending time with people in Jack’s family. Especially those that were his own age. It had been a while since he’d hung out with people his own age who weren’t automatically suspicious of him or wary of him because they either did or didn’t know about his past (Tom, of course, was the only exception). He was allowed to just be a teen again, and he was quickly realising that this was the exact reason why Jack had brought him on holiday to meet her family — so that he could be a kid again, without the pressures of military intelligence or federal agencies breathing down his neck and waiting to send him off on his next mission. Sure, Joe Byrne was part of the CIA, but somehow there was some sort of unspoken agreement to never use him again, and he was absolutely fine with that. After what had happened in Cairo… he was more than fine with that.

So now he was just chilling with a few of his “cousins”. They’d taken him out to an open space — it looked like a park, but Alex didn’t feel like he would really call it a park when it just felt more like a field — and they’d played a couple of games of small-team baseball before someone had pulled out a football (soccer ball) and they’d started a small game between them. They, funnily enough, hadn’t been all that surprised to find that Alex was actually decent at the game. If anything, they were just impressed, as if someone had told them of his skills before and he’d just exceeded them.

He was beginning to think that Jack had really hyped him up before they’d had the chance to meet him.

They’d only stopped for a short break when a woman approached them where they sat, hands in her coat pockets as she headed over. It was the youngest of the group who was the first to notice her, and when he did he didn’t hesitate to make the rest of their small group aware that there was someone approaching.

Alex, frankly, was just surprised that she’d managed to find him. He, of course, recognised her from when she’d questioned him the other day, and very much knew that she was a federal agent. He didn’t think he had anything particularly traceable on his person, but he supposed he did if this woman was able to track him down.

She only confirmed this when she finally pulled him aside to speak to him in private, away from the eavesdropping ears of the rest of the Starbright boys.

“How did you find me?”

“Well, I guessed that you would have a phone on your person.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. “Isn’t that illegal?” he asked slowly. He got the feeling that she knew it was illegal, especially since he wasn’t exactly a criminal or anything like that, but that she also wasn’t willing to go down that route of conversation.

“I thought I might ask you if there’s anything more you remember from the attack that you haven’t already told us.”

The pair was sitting on a bench now, away from most public footpaths and areas where other people would have been able to spot them and try to listen in on their conversation. Nice in privacy terms for Alex, but if anything happened then he wasn’t quite sure how he could tell the others when they couldn’t really see or hear him. And if anything happened and Jack found out that he’d been out of sight, she’d be more than angry with him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to continue with this conversation anyway.

“So…” Alex started, not quite sure of where this conversation was going to go, “what do you want to know?”

Special Agent David, Ziva, seemed to pause for a second. She attempted to collect her thoughts, before asking, “The night of the murder of Petty Officer Lewis, do you have any particular memories that you haven’t told us yet?”

Alex blinked at Ziva, feeling very confused. Any particular memories that he hadn’t told them yet? He was pretty sure that he’d told them all he could remember of that night — he’d been heading home from the convenience store when he heard something going on, the Petty Officer was attacked, and he tried to stop the bleeding. What more was there to tell?

A small part at the back of his brain tried to point out that he hadn’t included what had happened between him hearing the yell, the obvious call for help, and the Petty Officer ending up bleeding out beneath his hands whilst he tried to staunch the blood. But he hadn’t felt the need to tell them that part. That part was more need-to-know information.

Though, by the look of it, this NCIS Agent considered herself a person who needed to know. Alex, of course, didn’t know her well enough to think that she, in particular, needed to know, but…

He looked down at the palms of his hands, trying to figure out how to put what he wanted to say, what he needed to tell her, without actually telling her. That was when she asked him another question.

“Do you, perhaps, know the face of the attacker?”

That one made his heart leap into his throat, and for good reason. He was pretty sure he remembered the face of the attacker — and he was pretty sure it was someone he had faced before, in another place, at another time. When he’d first stepped into the alleyway, he’d sworn that the face had looked familiar, and had thought it was just his past coming back to haunt him. Except the person had recognised him too, as if he hadn’t expected Alex to be there. Like Alex wasn’t the target. That had been an interesting revelation, considering his history, but it didn’t stop him from fighting.

Did he tell this woman that he had actually fought off the attacker? Especially when he, well, couldn’t even remember the guy’s name? (He had been a quick one to deal with originally, such an inconvenience of a criminal that he’d only had a short jail sentence. He’d sorted it all out in a weekend, from what he remembered.)

“He was… he was tall,” he admitted. If he was going to help them out, he may as well give them something as accurate as possible so that they could actually catch the bastard. “I couldn’t see much in the dim lighting, but I'm guessing he was blonde? Or at least had fair hair. No idea about eye colour. Fairly well built. He had some sort of an accent when he spoke, but—”

“He spoke?”

The way Ziva asked that made Alex frown a little. Huh. Hadn’t that been a detail that Alex had mentioned before? And then he realised that the attacker would have had no reason to actually speak to him, so he might have avoided that detail originally.

Oops.

“Yeah, uh. He spoke. A few words, but enough to get a gist of the accent, I guess.” Trying to keep it vague that he was multilingual was going to be difficult. He was meant to be a Grammar School teen. Not a Private School prick. What sort of grammar school kid knew more than two or three languages, including their native language? He probably wouldn’t if he’d had an average upbringing and education.

When he realised she hadn’t spoken and was waiting for an elaboration on the kind of the accent the man had, he cleared his throat. “Uh, I think it was Western European?” Which made a change, considering he’d only met a handful of individuals with such an accent. “Someone from one of the Latin-language countries. Probably Spain or Italy, I’m not completely sure.”

He was completely sure. It had to be Italy — he was very sure that he hadn’t met anyone Spanish who could have made such an impression (and was still alive). He wasn’t going to outright say that and out himself, though.

The agent nodded, pulling a notebook out of her pocket and scribbling down everything that Alex had told her. Glancing over, he realised that she’d written a couple of lines of notes on there already, in Hebrew, but the rest was in English. Huh.

Why did the name David and Hebrew strike a chord with him? He wasn’t Jewish or Christian, but…

He took a look at her face again. Yes, she was definitely familiar now. And he had a pretty good idea of why.

Damn MI6 Spy Life.

It would probably be something he had to Google to clarify, just to make sure he was thinking of the right person, but he was pretty certain that this was the one. And then it occurred to him that if he recognised her, if he had an idea of who she was, what she could do, and who she was related to… then did she know who he was? Because, of course, it very much seemed like she didn’t recognise him. And if she did, she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

“So, Spanish or Italian, tall, blonde or fair hair,” she rattled off, reading through her note briefly. She looked back up at him. “Anything else?”

Could he try to slide in that the man was some sort of drug dealer without her clocking onto how exactly he knew? “He, uh, smelled weird. Kind of like weed.” Yeah, that worked. He was a teenager, not an idiot. He knew more than a handful of people who smoked weed, and he’d come face-to-face with a dealer more than once, so that would work as a way. Not that those would be in his files or public knowledge or anything.

Wait, had they even accessed his files?

Ziva noted down his comment on how the attacker smelled. “Anything else?”

Was there anything else that he could safely give away without outing himself? “He seemed pretty good at hand-to-hand combat.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow from the agent.

“I play a lot of video games.” Not a lie, but not the complete truth either. He would rather cry himself to sleep than play loads of rounds of Call Of Duty or whatever other war-themed video games were out there without a break. He did, however, enjoy a couple of games of FIFA or Skyrim every once in a while. Those games were actually fun, no matter how much Tom griped at him for “not wanting to play anything fun”. (As if FIFA wasn’t fun, the idiot.)

Honestly, he wasn’t sure whether the agent accepted his excuse. It sounded weak, even in his ears. But then she was moving on, not questioning him about it or trying to press further on that particular point.

The rest of her questioning was pretty basic, in Alex’s opinion. He could tell she was trying to probe a little about his past, about what his home life was like and why he’d decided to try and save a random stranger when he wasn’t trained to. Why he’d gone in head-first instead of calling for someone else to help. After all… he had been in a military neighbourhood. There were bound to be many trained people around who could have actually helped whilst he called the emergency services.

Alex had just shrugged in response. He wasn’t the type to let an urgent situation go unnoticed when he felt as if he could help, and he made sure to tell her that. When he noticed the look in her eyes at that comment, he knew he should have phrased it differently. Or maybe he was over-thinking things. It wasn’t as if people would automatically think that he assumed he could help everyone with his limited skills from that comment, right?

Maybe he just looked and sounded like an egotistical teenager.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of discussion, the agent got to her feet. Alex followed her cue, more than glad to be done with the interview… or rather, questioning. It had almost felt like what had happened when he’d been at NCIS with Jack, except Jack wasn’t there scrutinising the agent’s every word or any little thing that Alex insinuated. If anything, he had been a bit freer to talk with the agent in the park, but he still very much had to watch what he was saying.

Not that MI6 or the CIA would let anything go too far or get leaked to people who had no idea of the situation, no. That would be more a matter of international security. But anyway.

“Thank you very much for taking the time to speak with me, Alex,” Ziva responded, closing her notebook and tucking it into her pocket. “It was very informative.”

Alex gave a nod, hesitating for a brief moment before asking, “Will you… well, if the case gets solved, will you tell me who did it?” At the little frown on her face, he hurried to cover his mess-up. “I’m just curious about it all. You know. Since I, well, I tried to help the guy and ended up unable to… you know?” Well, here he was hoping that she just took his answer at face value. He was pretty sure he sounded enough like a curious and hopeful teenage to pass it off.

He didn’t quite know what vibe he was trying to give off to Ziva, actually. It was turning into a real mix.

There were a few beats where no one said anything, and Alex felt as if he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. And then she spoke. “Of course. I can make sure you’re told when we catch the attackers. You will probably have to come in to try and identify them anyway — we may have to bring you in to help with profiling.”

Alex gave a nod, though he really did not want to have to do that. Otherwise, Jack would know that they’d spoken to him without her there, and she wouldn’t be pleased.

Agent David gave one last nod, watching Alex for a couple more moments, before turning and heading away, leaving Alex to head back to his “cousins”. And when they asked about what he had been talking about for so long, he would give them a vague explanation… even though he definitely knew that someone would tell Jack about it.

As if he really needed Jack finding out about this right now.

[mummybear]

Haunting His Dreams

Words: 2110

Warnings: Swearing (Of course), heavy drinking, mentions of major character death.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC (Izzy)

Characters: Dean Winchester, OC, Sam Winchester, Mentions Of Metatron, Mentions Of Demon Dean

Summery: After Dean is cured of being a demon he finds that the love of his life has moved on from him and the bunker, things had been to painful for her after he died and she wanted out. How will he handle it? Will he ever see her again?

A/N: Okay guys so this is for @impala-dreamer‘s Make me feel it challenge. So this will be a two parter, so for this first part I chose the song Happier by Ed Sheeran (Link to song here)

It had only been mere weeks since the black had faded from Dean’s eyes, even less time since he’d managed to rid himself of the mark. Yet all the drinking In the world couldn’t drown out the pain he had from losing her, the day that he’d died he’d lost so much more than his life and his soul. 

When he’d woken as a demon, he quickly found out she’d left, he had buried it immediately. Behind other people’s blood, other people's pain and all the damn violence that he could inflict. After all, he couldn’t feel anything, not for the love of his life, not for his little brother Sam nor anything else for that matter.

The marks rage burned through his entire body, everything that made him who he was, it was still there, somewhere deep down inside him, but he just didn’t care. Instead as a demon, every bad part of him, every part that he didn’t want to have to admit to himself existed, was just amplified beyond reason but he liked it. There was part of human Dean that liked being numb, the demon liked the power, having no feelings to hold him back from doing what he wanted and needed to do at that time.

Then Sam had brought him back to the bunker, and he’d cured him. Everything he’d been fighting against, every feeling of guilt, pain and anguish rushed right back to the surface and hit him like a speeding fucking truck.  When he’d asked where she was, it was almost like he knew what Sam was going to say to him, even before he’d said it. Yet hearing it out loud, it was so much worse than he could’ve ever imagined, she was gone but only from the hunting life. Although from what they knew she was happy, managing to stay hidden so far as Sam knew. But she was alive at least and that was how Dean wanted her to stay.

There was no way in hell that Dean was going to drag her back into this life, put her in danger again, not when she was finally safe. No matter just how much it ripped him apart inside. And it did, every single second of every damn day. Like there was a black hole in his fucking chest, like a new wound opened every time he opened his eyes.

Of course, that was the other part of the problem. Every time he closed his eyes he saw hers staring right back at him, the way her smile would light up the entire damn room. Like nothing else he’d ever seen before. Some nights the only way he could get to sleep was to curl up in a ball and cry. He’d throw and smash things, punch and kill things but nothing helped, not even a little bit, not even for a second. He’d tried to hide it from Sam, but if anyone knew Dean better than he knew himself it was his brother. 

So, every time he left the bunker, he’d made sure to at least have a flask with him, it didn’t even matter if it was the cheapest shit on earth anymore, literally anything to block out the pain. Pretty much any and all feelings really. He just couldn’t think about it anymore, his old life. But the main reason was that he couldn’t think about her anymore. Who she was with, what she was doing. If she was missing him as much as he was missing her, if she ever thought about him anymore.

Sam had told him to just go, go and find her. He had practically begged him. Told him to tell her that he was back, that he was okay, explain everything that had happened to him while she was away. 

But as Dean sat there in a small booth at some run down bar in town, he found himself looking out the slightly dirty window. The park across the street was full of laughing screaming kids. Not to mention all of the couples that were holding hands and laughing, that had never been them not that they didn’t want that, they just couldn’t have that life together. But they had been happy, happier than he had ever remembered feeling in his whole miserable life.

Which is why as he sits here looking out of this window, he tries not to but he thinks about her, everything they might’ve had but now they never can, never will. 

Then it happens. He sees her, she’s smiling and laughing with some guy, one of her arms is looped through one of his. That black hole in Dean’s chest is ripped open once more, it hurts more than he ever thought imaginable, so much more than when that angel blade was plunged in his chest. Then he realises that he can’t swallow, the massive lump that forms in his throat is back and it won't go away. A tear falls from his eye, quickly followed by another. Those green eyes that were once so bright, and yet now they’re so dull. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he fights to blink them away. Roughly clearing his throat, he swallows that lump finally with a gulp of his liquor, which burns its way painfully down his throat.

Dean’s heart is thundering his chest as she walks closer to the door of the bar where he sits, in his corner booth hidden. The love of his life, just meters away and there’s not a thing that he can do about it. He can’t pull her into his arms like he used to kiss her, tell her everything is gonna be okay. He can only watch her from the sidelines and it’s so much worse than hell on earth. 

Standing from his chair when they walk inside, he manages to slip out the back unseen. Throwing his back against the wall, he takes a deep shaky breath once he feels he can breathe again. The cold air bites at the tear tracks on his cheeks and burns the back of his throat. Quickly he wipes the tear tracks away and he walks away from that bar. Vowing that he will never go there again. He can’t stand it, being so close yet not being able to have her.

A few days pass in a blur of hunting and drinking. They finally get back to the bunker and Dean can’t stop his mind from wandering. Under his eyes is still a mix of red and blue from lack of sleep, since he’d seen her everything had just gotten that much harder. But he wants this for her, he needs this for her. She’s happy and seeing her smile the other day was almost worth the pain he’s in right now.

Then he remembers her face, the day that he was stabbed with the angel blade by Metatron. Unfortunately, he remembers it like it was yesterday. 

The second that angel blade had been pushed through his chest, he remembers how it slid in his chest like butter, little to no resistance. She and Sam had ran in just in time to see it happen. He remembers the way that she’d screamed his name, running up to him and falling down on her knees beside him. As Sam forced a handkerchief to his chest, she had held his hand so tight as she sobbed, pressing those soft kisses to his cheek that he loves. Telling him that everything was going to be okay and god did he want to believe her. Both her and Sam were doing their best to convince him he was getting out of this. 

He remembers the next words he’d said, like they were said yesterday. The look on hers and his brothers face. “It’s better this way” He had ignored Sam and his girl as they’d tried to stop him talking. “The mark. It’s making me into something I don’t wanna be” 

Sam had refused to listen, of course he had, Dean expected nothing else. Sam had helped him to his feet and Dean could feel the blood filling his throat as he stood. Could even feel it beginning to leak from his lips. The look of fear in her eyes silently said that she’d seen it too. 

What he had said next were the last words he spoke and they were so true, “I’m proud of us” and he really was. He turned to her then the best he could, she tried to smile between the tears. “I love you Dean Winchester” she sobbed pressing a kiss to his bloodied lips. He didn’t have time to reply, he’d died in his brothers arms seconds later, her hands still cupping his cheeks.

He hoped she knew, just how much she meant to him. A few hours pass and he can’t sit there thinking anymore, he decides to head out. The bunker was slightly void of food. Even if he wasn’t really eating it right now, Sam would need to eat. So grocery shopping it was. 

Dean doesn’t tell Sam when he leaves, he knows that his little brother only worries, and will almost definitely try to go with him. So he heads out alone, he always felt alone these days anyway. The impala was one of the only places that he still finds comfort anymore, all the times they had spent in there together helped. 

He parks in the parking lot, heading inside the bright store, it feels like he’s in a trance. Tossing things in the cart, he sees the shampoo that she used to use, uncapping it he inhales the scent and clears his throat. Feeling the lump beginning to return and the tears pushing at the back of his eyes, he pushes it down where it belongs. 

Returning the bottle to the shelf he rounds the corner and he almost falls over, because he sees her again. Right in front of him, she has her back to him as she laughs with the same guy she’d been with before.

Abandoning his cart, he leaves the store as fast as he can. Hands stuffed in his pocket, keeping his head down low, he hopes it will be enough to keep him hidden. She was happy, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t gonna turn around and fuck her life up. She deserved to be loved, to be worshipped. There was nobody who would love her like he did, but that she deserved all the love in the world. She would always have his heart no matter what. 

Swearing under his breath his shaking hands struggle to put the key in the ignition. Silently begging whoever, that he would get out of there unseen. He thanks his baby when she starts, he rips out of that parking lot like his life damn near depends on it, swigging from the flask as he drives. Even the back of her head was insanely fucking perfect, just like he’d remembered. He could still smell her perfume like it was torturing him even now.

Arriving back at the bunker he throws the door closed behind him, swearing as he pushes his hands in his hair as he sinks to the floor, his back slamming against the solid metal. Knees pulled to his chest as his ass hit the floor. He wanted to scream and he knows that he can’t take this much longer. His heart is almost literally being ripped out of his chest, is he supposed to put up with this forever. Every single fucking day for the rest his entire life. 

Dean stands from the floor, his flask is empty, he needs to pass out before he does something he really regrets. Before he goes to find her. 

Then his heart sinks in his chest, there’s a key turning in the bunkers main door lock. He turns just in time to miss the swing of the door hitting him in the face.

His green eyes meet her stunning blue ones, eyes he’s been dreaming about for as long as he can remember. He feels like his tongue is swollen in his mouth, like he can’t breathe as she steps inside. Her bag falling beside the closing door, she’s so damn close that he can’t be dreaming because there’s too much pain, too much relief and overwhelming guilt.

“Dean?” she practically sobs, taking another step closer.

He can’t move, it's like he’s stuck in concrete. His mouth drops open, a breathy whimper leaving his lips. “Izzy”

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desiree---1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures  @charmed-asylum @holyhellpit @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @becs-bunker​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

[personasintro]

Hope World; 01 | jhs

synopsis; You’ve decided to try dancing class, but the one who teaches you how to dance actually hates you.

warnings: little bit swearing but other than that none

words count: 4.5k

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

masterlist link

“Again,” You hear his stern voice booming through out the practice room, making you huff. Sweat slowly dripping from your forehead making you feel disgusted and filthy. Your throat dry — in desperate need of water. So you do it again. Trying to move your hips without any music seems really embarrassing, especially for you. Feeling his eyes watching your every move makes you stiff. “God, Y/N. You’re useless.” His sharp words causes a sharp pain in your heart.

You exhale the long breath you’ve been holding up, trying to calm yourself down. Simply standing up from your position, you walk to your bag full of your stuff picking up the untouched water bottle. He wouldn’t even let you drink one drop, since you came here. “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice booms once again.

The water makes your throat feel more relaxed — no more dry. Closing the bottle up and tossing it back on the ground, you look into his eyes. His stern look almost makes you feel obedient once again, but this time you slowly compose your posture. “Drinking? I’ve been probably dehydrated this whole time.” You speak with venom in your voice.

Not once, you’ve raised your voice on him. You’ve been respecting him ever since he started to teach you. The sunshine you met for the first time isn’t the same guy, who is standing couple of meters behind you. Still remembering his red hair and wide smile welcoming you and few girls in this exact same practice room. His body shined with happiness and positivity. He looks like complete opposite right now. His brows furrowed while looking at you as if you’ve stolen something from his. “If you would’ve done your work, maybe you could have some rest.”

Automatic snort comes from your lips, head shaking unbelievably. This is only your third class and you already think that this wasn’t such a good idea. “It doesn’t matter. We’re done here.” He huffs looking at the Rolex watch on his wrist. He picks his sport bag from the floor, ready to leave. You can see the clock on the wall showing it’s already 9pm — your class has ended. You pack your stuff when you hear annoyed sigh. Looking up at Hoseok, who is looking at you — annoyed. Surprise! He jiggles with the keys in his hand telling you silently, that he’s supposed to lock up this practice room. You fasten up your stuff, mumbling soft ‘sorry’. Not sure if he heard you, you aren’t expecting any answer anyway.

Tossing your sport bag over your shoulder you quickly leave from the practice room. You can hear him locking it and soon his footsteps behind you. Uncomfortable wind splashes to your face as soon as you come out of the building. You should’ve wear something warmer than sweatpants, short sleeve T-shirt and thin sweater. It was supposed to be warm. Hoseok walks right pass you to his car without any goodbye. You watch him turning on engine and leaving from the parking lot — leaving you there standing in front of the building with crazy wind. Jerk. He could’ve ask you if you needed a ride home. He even went in the same direction!

“He is such a jerk!” You exclaim to Namjoon, your brows furrowed with little pout on your lips. Of course, you had to complain to your best friend as soon as you could. “He left without asking me if I need a ride! It was freezing!” You say dramatically, sounding maybe too angry.

“He’s there to teach you, not to be all sweet to you.” He shrugs before he continues slurping on his ramen. You huff watching his cheeks full of noodles.

“Yeah, well at least he doesn’t have to be rude.” You mumble annoyed, thinking about what happened the other night. It still makes you so annoyed and angry at him. His attitude is absolutely impolite and he shouldn’t be treating you like that. The most confusing thing about it is — when you first met him he really was such a sweetheart.

You still remember going into the practice room to have a look on his dance class — making sure you really want to be a part of it. You remember him standing in front of the mirror showing you and other girls basic dance moves. Everyone was so quiet back there — all of your attention on him. He moved his body so naturally like everything he knows is how to dance. He looked so professional only focused on dancing — like ten girls aren’t watching him. He didn’t pay any attention to any of you. When music stopped, his serious behavior disappeared and cheerful himself was back. He greeted every each one of you, while everyone bowed their heads. Shaking your hands with bright smile. His professional dancing made you realize — he’s the one. He’s the one who is supposed to teach you how to dance. So you agreed to have classes with him. His price list wasn’t really cheap, but when you saw his dancing... well, you’ve decided that it’s worth it. He is really good at what he’s doing.

You remember your first class. He greeted you with small smile, he kept his attitude mostly neutral. Showing you all the right moves, explaining everything you’ve done wrong. He was professional from the very start but now — he’s too professional. He’s so hard on you making you think he doesn’t like you.

“Have you thought about dropping?” Namjoon pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Dropping what?” You ask dumbfounded, noticing he finished his food — empty bowl in front of him and little bit sauce in the corner of his lips. “You’ve little sauce here.” You say pointing at his lips.

He awkwardly kisses his teeth, before quickly wiping it off in the reflection of the spoon beside him. This guy. He coughs adverting his attention back to you. “The class. Why don’t you find someone else for dancing?” He asked you simply.

He’s right. But unfortunately — Hoseok is probably the best dancer in your area. You can’t probably find anyone that good. And you say the exact same thing to Namjoon.

“Can’t you find something else to keep you active then? Maybe swimming?” He tries again.

“Joon,” You whine. “You know why I’m doing this.”

You know that you’re not the best dancer, but you got the moves. You’re still not completely confident in dancing in front of people, but you still try your best. Your decision to dancing is simple — you weren’t confident with your body, so you decided to do something more active. You don’t consider yourself as dancer, but more like someone who likes to dance and try to learn something about it. Plus, your family members calling you ‘fat’ and saying stuff like ‘you got bigger’ to you, didn’t really help your confidence. That’s why you’ve decided to do this. You keep yourself occupied and active. It isn’t for the looks anymore, more like you feel more healthier because you are more active. Watching movies all day while eating ramen and other not really healthy food wasn’t really good and healthy idea.

“You can go hiking with me. Plus the nature is beautiful, you’d love that.” He suggests with cheerful gaze. He loves walking in the nature and the fresh air. He always shows you the pictures he takes, spending hours talking about how beautiful our nature is. You promised him that you’d go with him sometimes. But your work and now dancing class don’t really allow you that. Your exhaustion taking over as soon as you come home.

“I don’t think I could do that twice a week. Dancing is perfect. Just Hoseok isn’t.” You grumble quietly, already fearing he’s somewhere nearby waiting to snap at you.

You not knowing he isn’t now — but he is on your next class.

“Thank you, Hoseok! I can’t wait for our next class.” You hear girly voice before the practice door are opened. The girl, Seulgi, you believe comes out with bright smile waving before closing the door. You don’t really know her but you’ve spoke to her couple of times. She usually has her dance class before yours, so the two of you met often. “Oh, hey!” She says when she sees you sitting on one of the chairs in front of the practice room.

“Hi.” You greet her with kind smile giving her little wave.

“Aren’t you early?” She asks you checking the time on her phone.

In fact, you really are early. After you and Namjoon went separate ways, you had nowhere else to go. So you got here little bit earlier — knowing Hoseok has fifteen minutes break. “Yeah,” You nod. “How was the class?”

Her smile widens even more. “It was amazing. Hoseok really is the best dancer here.” She says with almost too enthusiasm and it makes your eyebrow twitch.

Well, you know he’s the best dancer here. But that part about ‘it was amazing’ makes you slightly irritated. Is only your class so bad? “How’s your class?” She asks completely oblivious to your slightly irritated behavior.

“It’s... good.” You say unconvincingly with fake smile.

She eyes you strangely, opening her mouth ready to say something when another voice stops her. Your eyes finding Namjoon calling your name waving his hands in the distance.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask standing up seeing breathless Namjoon.

“You forgot your lunch, moron.” He tells you, the packed lunch in his hands.

Sudden realization washes over you. You were so irritated with Hoseok and thinking about your class, that you completely forgot to take it from the convenience store. “Oh my god! Thank you!” You say with wide mouth taking the lunch from his hands.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs patting your head like you’re some kid, making you roll your eyes. You see Seulgi waving her hand as goodbye, not wanting to interrupt you. You just wave her back, not really wanting to talk to her. Thinking about how she had something to say about your answer.

You don’t really want to explain to her, how you really feel about Hoseok. Both of your heads snaps to the door which opens widely — Hoseok standing there watching you with raised eyebrow. You stare each other, until Hoseok inhales annoyingly. “It’s time for our class.”

Already?

“Thank you, again.” You thank Namjoon for the last time, him giving you small smile in return. “Bye, Joon.”

“Bye.” He slowly waves, Hoseok turning around with his back to both of you.

You mouth ‘help me’ at Namjoon and he gives you thumbs up. You see him turn around and leaving, while you go after Hoseok. You toss your sport bag to your usual spot, already preparing water bottle not caring what he thinks about it. If you’re freaking thirsty, then you’ll drink from it. You put your phone on silence, already knowing how Hoseok hates it. On your second class, your phone started to ring and then he became even more annoyed and irritated with you. You don’t want him to hate you even more than he does now. You see the time on your phone, brows furrowed when you realize you had still time for your class to begin. He is suppose to have a break time.

“Did you practice at home?” He asks you already setting the speakers.

When you don’t answer him, he turns back to you. You can see him wearing baby pink sweatpants, which are really looking great on him. Not many men can pull of pink color — Hoseok not being one of them. Simple white T-shirt covering his torso, but you can still see the outlines of his abs. You gulp shifting your gaze at his face. “Yes?” You answer more in question making him stand up.

“You didn’t practice?” He asks you with loud voice. His voice already echoing throughout the room once again. Not liking his tone of voice, you bit your lip in nervousness. Even though you’re not appreciating his attitude to you, you’re still quiet. Some part of you is scared of him. He’s really scary when he’s angry or even only irritated.

“I should’ve practice?” You ask almost too quickly and his face is basically red as soon as those words pass your lips.

He smacks his phone onto the small table in the corner with loud smack, making you gulp nervously. “You don’t have time to practice but you have time to hangout with your boyfriend?” He asks lowly, almost too normal making him look even scarier.

You see little vein popping on his neck — the view hot and scary at the same time. You should feel scared but when sudden throb between your legs awakens you, you want to almost laugh. Are you really getting turned on by Hoseok’s attitude?

You ignore that ‘boyfriend’ part, not really getting what he means. Does he think Namjoon is your boyfriend? Yet again, you want to laugh. But you don’t. You keep your neutral gaze too scared to look away. “Very well, then.” He speaks turning around again.

You’re watching his broad shoulders and masculine back, as he shuffles through different songs. The song completely unfamiliar to you, starts playing. “Let’s get this over with.” You hear him say already standing in the middle of the room waiting for you to come there. The annoying look that you’re not already there — dominating his face. Great. Just Great.

He shows you a few moves which he wants you to learn this time. You watch his every move carefully trying to remember the small ‘choreography’. “This is supposed to be danced by two people, but as you have just seen it’s possible to dance it just on your own.” He explains pausing the music.

The moves aren’t hard itself, but maybe it’s because Hoseok made it look super easy. Another confirmation for you to know, that he truly is the master of what he’s doing. “We’ll do it toghether since I don’t think you’ll do it by yourself. You need guidance.”

Did he just insult you while being professional?

You ignore his little jab at you, only nodding in return. You’re not really in the mood for fighting, not like you’d fight him. The only time you’ve really talked back to him was about that water bottle. How stupid, right?

“Do you remember any part of it?” He asks you.

What you’re supposed to tell him? You’ve remembered some little parts, but you know that’s not enough for him. Without waiting for your response he turns to the mirror. “Come here.” He says motioning with his hands for you to come there.

You get there really quickly not wanting him to be pissed off this whole hour. “You’ll just mimic my moves. You’ll get the hang of it when we start to dance. At least I hope so.” He mumbles the last part more for himself, but you still hear him. Annoyance rushing over your blood making you want to slap him. How fucking rude!

He starts the music waiting for the beat drop. Standing right beside him you look at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are already flushed and you haven’t even started. He starts moving, you quickly copying his every move. You have to admit — your moves aren’t that bad. Hoseok makes you feel, like you can’t dance at all. Not the fact, that obviously — he’s the best dancer you’ve ever seen. But more like, his constant comments and insults your way makes you think, that you’re not good enough.

The whole ‘choreography’ lasts only like for two minutes. He pauses the music, putting his phone back on the floor. “It was... okay.” He speaks, fingers rushing over his red hair.

Okay? You thought you danced amazing! You hit every beat and the fact that you remembered the whole choreography by only just looking at him, is kind of impressive.

Almost rolling your eyes, you catch yourself before you can. “But it was still empty. It was just like two persons dancing beside each other.”

Isn’t that what you were doing? Dancing beside each other?

Then you remember his words. It was supposed to be dancing with each other. Not beside each other. Suddenly getting his words you nod understandably.

“We will continue to do the same thing, but we will touch each other so it looks more naturally. Just let the music and me move you.” He says before bending to his phone, starting the song again.

You flinch little bit when his fingers touch your hand, leaving goosebumps there. He pulls you closer to his body, heat radiating from him. You’re almost leaning against his hard chest, when he starts moving you to the beat. It looks and feels hard from the start, but Hoseok’s moving your body like you’ve no control over it. You quickly start to dance the moves exactly how you remember. It was the move when you were about to go left, but you turn right. Bumping your head right into Hoseok’s face.

“Shit!” He yelps touching his nose with scrunched face.

“Oh my god!” You’re quick to put hand onto your mouth and telling apologizes over and over again.

Your head hurts little bit, so you don’t even want to know how Hoseok’s nose feels right now. “Turn the fucking music off!” He snaps, hand still on his nose making his voice sounding muffled. You’re quick to run to his phone, turning the music off just how he asked. Well, not really asked. More like commanded.

“I’m so sorry, Hoseok. Does it hurt too much?” You ask with concern trying to see his nose.

“No, I yelped just for fun. Of course it hurts.” He spits at you, closing his eyes trying to relief some pain.

You don’t really pay attention to his rudeness, because you really feel sorry. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry.” You apologize once again with guilt all over your face.

Hoseok doesn’t spare you one glance, walking closer to the mirror. He takes his hand off from his nose, looking at his bloody nose. Shit! You made him bleed. It’s not something drastic... but still.

“What can I do for you?” You ask carefully not really want to piss him off even more.

“Learn how to dance, maybe?”

You deserved it, you jerk! You’re ready to yell but you bite your tongue. The whole situation becoming somehow funny and it amuses you.

“Are you fucking smirking at me?” He asks, drop of blood dripping from his nose. He’s quick to wipe it with his finger.

You immediately widen your mouth realizing that — in fact, you were. “No!” You deny shaking his head.

He huffs annoyingly turning around, not wanting to piss himself even more. He shuffles in his bag pulling out tissues. He wipes his nose biting his tongue to prevent him from hissing. It fucking hurts! The tissue is red from blood almost immediately. It looks terrifying even though you don’t have hemophobia.

An idea pops in your head, quickly scurrying to your bad finding a wallet. You run out of the practice room to the small buffet which should be closing up any minute.

“Do you have anything cold, please?” You asks hurriedly, the old lady raising one brow.

“Frozen peas?” She asks already pulling it out from the freezer.

It’s your turn to raise one brow. “Why do you have frozen peas?”

“Let’s say, there’re a lot of accidents here.” She explains, making you nod.

You pay quickly, bowing your head already running back to Hoseok. You find him sitting on the floor while leaning against the wall, his head thrown back. “Here.” You say handing him the package of frozen peas.

He looks up — confusion written in his expression. “Where would you got this?” He asks but still taking it from you, gently putting it on his nose.

“Don’t ask.” You simple shrug. You stand there for awhile after he puts the package on the floor — tearing a piece of the tissue stuffing it into his nose. “Does it still hurt so much?” You ask softly, not wanting him to be mad.

“It’s better now.” He mumbles.

You can do nothing more than just awkwardly stand there. And as fast as your class began, it ended as well.

“You what?” Namjoon screeches when you tell him about the accident — accidentally making Hoseok’s nose bleed. His laugh literally going ‘HAHAHAH’ fills the whole car making you cringed at the loud sound. Let’s say, you barely slept throughout the night. Catching up the work you’re supposed to have done by today. You did it, you just had to be up almost all night. It’s raining the whole day and your mood suddenly falls, the weather making your day worse. Plus, it’s your dancing class again. You haven’t seen Hoseok since the accident. He told you to go home and you obeyed gladly. Embarrassment filling your whole body and you’d be really happy, if you could say it felt. It didn’t. You want to hide and never show up to his classes ever again, but then you’d just be a coward. Your mom always taught you to face your problems — now it’s time.

Thankfully Namjoon stopped by your apartment for a second and asked you if you want a ride. You’d usually bother him and walk there, but because of the weather is pretty much awful — you said yes. So he’s driving you there.

“Stop laughing.” You say but start to laugh yourself. God, you’re so embarrassed but it’s funny at the same time.

“You’re so clumsy.” He comments already turning to the direction of the building.

“Yeah? And you’re not? You eat like little kid and always somehow gets your clothes dirty because of it. And I don’t know who always stumbles even though the sidewalk is flat.” You comment back making him stop laughing.

“Hey, I never said I’m not.” He defends himself with slight chuckle, making you chuckle back.

“Guess we’re both clumsy.”

“I feel like you’re more clumsy than me. You punched someone in the nose because of your clumsiness.” He says jokingly making you snort.

“I didn’t exactly punch him. I just...” You trailed off not really knowing how to explain it.

“Yeah, yeah I get.” Namjoon sways his hand at you annoyingly. He’s probably happy that he isn’t the only one with really embarrassing story now.

He parks in front of the building. You thank him for the drive telling him you’ll treat him with some ramen, which he politely declines. As soon as you step out of the car, you quickly run inside. Rain wetting your clothes in the process. You wave at Namjoon last time before disappearing inside.

Already having your sports clothes on — black leggings with white tank top and nice puma trainers — spare you a time of changing your clothes. You always does this. You come in your sports clothes and then when you’re done, you simply change to your casual clothes. Thanks to the lockers in the practice room.

You sit inside of the practice room —checking the time before you did, of course — but stopping when you see someone else in the room. There’s Hoseok with beanie covering his hair wearing his casual clothes, but in different colors this time. His sweatpants, T-shirt and trainers are all black. Well, he definitely looks good in everything. But beside him is someone else — guy looking slightly younger than Hoseok. “Am I too early?” You ask, nervously clutching the strap of your sport bag.

You catch their attention, their heads turning to you. Hoseok rolling his eyes off while turning back to the guy. It looks like he wanted to be discreet, but you still saw him. Jerk.

“Is this the girl who punched you?” The guy asks with loud laughter, showing his bunny smile and scrunched nose. He is cute. You come inside, the door shutting by itself.

You almost laugh with him, but catching yourself just in time not to. Hoseok gives him nasty glare ready to throw some insult his way, when there’s a knock. The door opens slowly, Namjoon blonde head peeking out.

“Joon?” You ask surprised, his eyes meeting yours.

“Hey, sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt but I forgot to give you this.” He explains handing you dark blue umbrella with colorful little crabs all over it. “It might be raining when you go home. I’d pick you up but I’ve to go to help mom.” He explains more, making you smile at him.

You take the umbrella from his hand. “Thank you so much.” You thank him. The both guys simply staring at you in silence.

His eyes gazing over them, before quickly saying; “See you later.” And he left just as quick as that. You didn’t even give him a proper goodbye.

When turning around, you figured why he left so quickly. Hoseok intimidating and sharp gaze looking at you. “How’s your boyfriend?” He asks bitterly, voice filled with mockery and irritation. You don’t even bother to correct him.

“How’s your nose?” You ask back, before you can stop yourself. You’re kind of glad that you didn’t.

The guy beside him bursts in laughter once again, while the two of you are having staring contest.

“Shit, I already love her!” The guy says enthusiastically walking pass Hoseok, bumping into him little bit in the process, before coming to you. “I’m Jungguk. Hoseok’s friend,” He says with bunny smile already stretching his hand to you. You slowly take it, him looking back at Hoseok who gives him cold stare. “Although I’m not so sure anymore. He’s intimidated when he’s pissed.” He whispers to you, making you giggle.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself with polite smile.

“I’d really want to talk to you some more, but your class already started and I have to go as well,” He says and pouts fakily, making him look even cuter. “I’m teaching boxing, so if you’d really want to learn boxing you know where to go,” He smirks little bit making you blush. You’ve never really seen so many handsome guys all at once. “But I think you already know how to throw a punch.” He says grinning cheekily at Hoseok.

“Fuck off!” He snaps in response, but Jungguk is basically sprinting out of the practice room.

“Love you, hyung! Bye Y/N!” He yells but before any of you can response, he’s gone.

“Fucking brat.” You hear Hoseok mumble and you look at him. His nose looks fine like it was never punched before. He catches your stare looking at you with his cold gaze.

He surely hates you even more than he did. Yay!

[thethingaboutmagic]

SUMMARY: Reader isn’t sure how to tell Thor how she feels, so she decides buying him something for Valentine’s Day will do the trick.

Hearts filled every available space in the kitchen, their round edges plump and pink like puckered lips waiting for a kiss. On the center of the island sat a poorly painted ceramic heart twice the size of a watermelon. Instead of pink, it was an angry red like blood, which was ironic to say the least. I pictured a giant somewhere clutching its gaping chest, wondering why someone would steal its most vital organ and use it as a cheap Valentine’s Day decoration.

“What is this?” I asked Tony. He faltered on the ladder propped against the sink. He was holding a ribbon, but he let it fall when he turned; gravity slowed as the fabric drifted toward the garbage disposal.

“Uh, Pepper said I don’t take Valentine’s Day seriously, so I figured I’d surprise her,” he shrugged, eyeing his handy work. Honestly, it looked like a convenience store holiday sales pitch threw up all over the place, but Tony looked a little too proud for me to burst his bubble, so I nodded and gave him a weak smile.

“You did...good.” I could’ve sworn I’d bitten a hole in my tongue trying to keep my thoughts to myself. I glanced down at my jeans to make sure they hadn’t caught fire. Surprisingly, they were the same faded blue as before.

“I know,” said Tony, and it’s the exact thing I was expecting to come out of his mouth because Tony loves himself too much to be imperfect.

I changed the subject. “Have you seen Thor?” I leave out why I’m looking for him; there’s no way in hell I’d give Tony a reason to talk shit. In my bedroom was a gift, something only meant for Thor and no one else. Amongst the Avengers, I’m better known for my lack of “understanding” and “compassion” and my “inability to connect with others.” So I stuck to the minimal questions and prayed that Tony did in fact know where Thor was.

“He’s training. You know, working on the big guns? Trying to...get that bread?”

“You’ve been hanging out with Peter haven’t you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

And like almost every other conversation Tony and I have had, it ended as soon as it began. I took two of Nat’s special shakes (a whole lot of vodka with a smidge of orange juice) out of the fridge and started heading toward the elevator. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one going down. One awkward ride with a newbie agent and a couple of swigs of one of Nat’s shakes later, I was stepping out onto the third floor. Across from the elevator was a giant wall of glass. Through the wall, I could see Thor going at it with an innocent punching bag. His black tank top was soaked through with sweat, and his standard grey shorts were hanging low on his waist. There was something about seeing Thor in anything other than his traditional Asgardian armour that always threw me for a loop. Not that he looked bad, he just looked off.

If I let my mind wander a bit I could almost imagine he was just another dumb jock, but I knew that wasn’t true. Though he looked like the average American football star and sometimes acted like an imcompetent child, he was smart. And strong. And brave.

And incredibly attractive.

I mean, he could turn any room full of women into the Atlantic.

I banged on the glass with my fist and watched as Thor nearly jumped out of his skin. “Hey, thunder. I brought booze!” I threw open the door and stepped into the gym. Thor met me halfway with a bone crushing hug; he smelled awful but I wasn’t going to complain. Being in his arms felt like literal heaven, all safe and warm and comfortable like nothing in the world could touch us as long as we stayed right where we were.

He pulled away, and my body immediately went cold. He took one of the shakes from my hand and shook his head.

“Dear friend, how many times must I remind you your Midgardian booze is like water to me?” he scolded, but he was smiling and so was I.

“So does that mean you don’t want to drink with me anymore?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. You’re literally the only person here I can drink with without me having to become someone’s babysitter.” Flashes of Clint attempting to shoot a fire hydrant with an arrow passed through my mind. I could practically hear Natasha now swearing on her life that she was the best at hide-n-seek; I’d spent half the night trying to find her. She’d been in one of the washing machines in the basement the whole time.

Thor’s booming laugh shook me out of my reverie. “I assure you a man of my nature needs no babysitter.”

“That’s good to know, Thor,” I said. “But, anyways, I actually came here to tell you I have something for you.”

One of Thor’s brows lifted as he took a sip of his shake. “A gift? What is the occasion?”

Fuck. I didn’t even take into consideration that he might not have understood earth holidays. Why, oh why, did I think this was a good idea? This is a perfect example of why I’m an Avenger and not a teacher.

“Well,” I started but had to stop and take a deep breath. “On earth we do this thing called Valentine’s Day where we sort of give gifts to the people we care about.”

“Ah, I see. Forgive me, but I did not get anyone anything.”

I peeled my eyes away from the floor to look up at Thor. He was frowning, the space between his brows pulled together.

“No, you’re fine,” I assured him. “Normally, people give people gifts on Valentine’s Day because they-well, they- uhm, they...maybesortofhaveamajorcrushonthem.” The last part came out in a rush, and I somewhat hoped Thor hadn’t been able to make out what I’d said, but of course he did. He was a god.

“But you say you’ve gotten a gift for me. Does that mean-”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish before I began rambling on about how sorry I was for pushing my feelings on him and how it was totally okay if he didn’t feel the same and how I kept the receipt and could return the gift if he didn’t want it. By that point, my face was the color of a ripe tomato and my hands were trembling. I hadn’t realized Thor was only a few inches away until he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. My mind went into autopilot.

The walls began to melt and the dumbbells on the rack behind me were turning white and all the colors were melding together to form one big ball of blinding light and my body was on fire and I couldn’t feel my toes. Hands were in my hair, but I could barely register what was happening because my heart was thumping in my chest louder than I could handle and I couldn’t focus. My lips moved against his like petals desperate for rain. Somewhere outside thunder roared in the sky. Whether from the storm brewing in my chest or an actual storm, I would never know, but I wanted to drown in it and never come up for air because this was heaven.

All too soon Thor pulled away. His fingers were still tangled in my hair; he pulled my forehead to his, and I let him because I couldn’t bear not having a part of him not touching a part of me.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered. I had no idea what I’d apologized for, but I nodded my head and promised I wouldn’t do it again.

He carefully moved his hand to my waist and smiled.

“I’d like to see this gift if that’s alright with you.”

I wanted to stay still. To press my thumb to my lips to hold his kiss in place. But Thor was tugging me toward the exit and into the elevator, and before I knew it, we were standing at the end of my bed and I was handing him the small, black box that I’d picked out two days ago.

He took the necklace out of the box and slipped it around his neck, the silver lightning bolt charm brushing against his chest.

As I stand here now in my white dress while Thor lifts the veil away from my face, I can’t help but look at that charm and remember that Valentine’s Day and that kiss and that fluttering feeling in my heart that I know will never go away.

I thank my lucky stars for those few sips of Nat’s shake I had in the elevator and say, “I do.”

[strwbrryeos]

The Magic Shop (M)

SUMMARY; Your mother always told you magic came at a price. You should’ve listened. Well, at least you got revenge on that stupid shapeshifter Yoongi.

Genre : smut, angst, magic!au

Pairing : witch!Reader x shapeshifter!Yoongi

Contains : rough sex, grinding, nipple play, unprotected sex, you’re soulmates Jungkook said so, oral, hand job, creampie, enemies to lovers, major character death, lotta angst, sorry not sorry, dirty talk, praise kink, minor dom!Yoongi, finger sucking

Links removed! Please visit my blog for the master list!

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it’s almost as amazing as how free he feels. He loves this. Loves as the air bends around him, doing his bidding and keeping him afloat.

His favorite thing, however, has to be the fact that for a time, he can forget about you.

Well, that is until he lands to find you scowling at him with a very grumpy face. Terrible.

“Min Yoongi!” you screech, causing passersby to nearly jump out of their skin.

Yoongi huffs, shedding his owl form for that of a handsome, young man. So much for the freedom. “What?” he groans. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He shoves his way past you and into the store, ignoring the way your eyes burn holes into his back. Or at least, he tries to ignore it. But then he’s acutely aware of how his back hurts and oh my god is that smoke?

“Y/N!” he screams in panic, “stop it! Stop it!”  

“What? You seem―”

“Y/N!” shouts a new voice, distant and annoyed. “Stop setting your coworker on fire!”

With a dissatisfied sigh and a snap of your fingers, the flame on Yoongi’s back disappears, though the new scorch marks on his shirt aren’t much better. “Really?” he asks, and he has half a mind to turn into a wolf right now and snap your neck. Maybe next time.

“Next time don’t be late,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Are you just mad because I bit you last time?”

“You could’ve given me rabies!”

“For the last time, Y/N, I don’t have rabies!”

“That’s exactly what a person with rabies would say.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

You and Yoongi work as you always do: in perfect tandem but complete silence. Part of the reason that the wizard you work for hasn’t fired either of you yet is because, despite how absolutely morbidly you get along, you work fine as long as you don’t talk. The wizard likes it that way anyway.

He hired the both of you about two years ago; you, for your wonderful knack for magic and Yoongi for his healing abilities as a shapeshifter. The perfect duo to run an all-needs magic shop.

It’s too bad you hate each other, though.

The wizard, Seokjin, comes down from his lot, shaking his head at the two of you as he watches you work. “Still nothing, huh?” he asks with a laugh. “You’d think you’d get along better after so much time together.”

“Maybe we would if she weren’t such a―”

“I will literally give you fleas,” you cut him off, causing Seokjin to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“You know, part of what makes a good magician is being able to work with other people,” he says as he begins shuffling through the day’s schedule. “It’s important, especially if you’re gonna be a healer.”

“I have good people skills,” Yoongi huffs. “It’s this one who doesn’t.”

“It’s only when I’m around you,” you reply without so much as looking up from your pot. You turn to Seokjin, changing the subject. “I brewed the first potion of the day already,” you say, gesturing to your work. “The customer will be here to pick it up in about twenty minutes. I can get working on the next one if you want.”

Seokjin nods in approval. “Good work. Looks perfect. But I think I’ll do the next. You get started on the three o’clock appointment.”

“Sure thing.”

“And Yoongi,” he says, turning his attention to the man as he fiddles with his burnt shirt, “I’m pretty sure there’s a unicorn coming in later. Take care of that, would you?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Seokjin throws him a thumbs up, fixing his shirt in the process, before giving a few final instructions and vanishing into the air. You return to your work in silence, humming what is, to Yoongi’s ears, incoherent gibberish. It makes his ears ring, though magic spells always seem to have that kind of effect on his much-too-sensitive senses. Your hands wave in a defined yet random way over the cauldron until it turns the perfect shade of glass blue. Despite the annoyed rumbling deep in his chest that comes from being near you, Yoongi can’t help deny that you always look your best when you’re working. Maybe it’s because you’re not talking either.

Where you deal with the potions and the spells and magic items (seriously, why do talking cloaks even exist?), Yoongi specializes in magical nature, whether it be plants or animals or that really weird growth on a person’s skin that they swear is whispering stupid pick-up lines to them when they’re trying to fall asleep. He pokes around the greenhouse, checking in on his new batch of nightshade and making sure to give the silver orchids extra water. He whistles while he works, and a few of the live-in fairies come to pay him a visit from their gardens.

“How are you, Yoongi?” asks one delicately, fluttering in front of his face.

He smiles at the creature, her wings sparkling in the sunlight but so paper-thin that they’re nearly invisible, and says, “Better now that you’re here,” and the little fairy zips away in shyness. Another fairy appears, opting to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder as the shapeshifter makes his way towards the back of the greenhouse.

“How’s your coworker?” he asks.

Yoongi grunts in response, the thing in his chest growling in annoyance. “Always the worst.”

“Eh, I like her.”

“Still don’t understand why.”

“She’s cool! You should get to know her. I think you guys would make good friends.”

The other fair reappears, taking her place on Yoongi’s opposite shoulder. “Doubt it! Yoongi is nice! Y/N is not!”

“Oh, you’re just biased ‘cause he paid you a nice compliment!”

“I can pay you a compliment too, if you’d like, Novus,” Yoongi says with a soft laugh, and the small creature is blushing, angry at having been so easily charmed.

“Whatever,” the fairy scoffs. “Y/N is a good witch. You’re just angry.”

“And you’re not?” cries his female counterpart. “I don’t understand why you defend her. She doesn’t even come in here.”

“That’s cause this big ol’ shifter here won’t let her. How do you think she gets her spell ingredients?”

Yoongi jumps a little in realization. “So you’re the one that’s been taking from my supplies!”

“It’s not taking if it’s from my own home!”

“I guess,” chuckles Yoongi, really not caring but glad to have solved that mystery. “We’re not gonna be friends, though, Novus.”

“I think you two have more in common than you think?”

“Like what?”

“Well―”

“They don’t have anything!”

“Stay out of this, West!” The grouchy fairy continues. “You’re both here to help people, for starters.”

“So we have one career interest. Doesn’t make her more appealing.”

“I know you both like music.”

“Everybody likes music!”

“And you’re magical.”

“Everybody is magical, Novus!” laughs an exasperated Yoongi. “Look, let me just go water the shrooms and then I’ll leave you two alone, okay?”

“No, no, please take West with you. She never shuts up about you.”

“Novus!” West exclaimes, embarrassed and scandalized. “Be quiet.”

Yoongi only shakes his head, ignoring the bickering fairies that stay perched on his shoulders. A few gnomes come to greet him, but they’re quick to leave, annoyed by the chattering of the winged creatures. After Yoongi attends to the shrooms (during which the damned things wouldn’t shut up about how he and you were destined for life, claiming they could see into his soul), he retreats from the greenhouse and back into the real world.

He finds you in the shop, busily attending five different customers, and he already knows he’s going to get hell for this as soon as they’re done. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asks, rushing down the wooden steps. The customer glares at you before returning a friendly grin to Yoongi.

“Finally some service around here! I need to pick up an order. Heat suppressants for a young hybrid.”

“Sure thing,” Yoongi says, moving to the counter. “Name?”

“Lee Daesong.”

“Got it.”

Yoongi turns around, shuffling through the wooden cabinets behind him. He pulls out a small sack where the name “Lee Daesong” is printed in fine, gold ink. Yoongi hands it the man and he returns a smile and a handful of gold pieces.

“Thanks. Have a good day.”

“You too. Come back soon.”

Yoongi watches as you help an old witch with a spell before escorting her out of the shop, and you close the door with an exasperated sigh, whipping around to face your co-worker. He’s expecting you to yell, but instead he’s greeted with cold silence. You seethe instead, sitting down at your workstation and ignoring him entirely.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Not even gonna talk to me now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N,” the shifter whines, standing in front of your desk. “For fucks sake, we work together!”

“Unfortunately.”

“C’mon, really?”

You look up, staring him in the eye as your finger flicks the air, turning the pages of the book for you. “You left me to deal with five angry customers all on my own, and Seokjin is probably gonna hear about it and have my head!”

“Look, I’ll vouch, okay? My fault.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “as if. We all know he loves you.”

“Loves me? You’re his prodigy student!” Yoongi exclaims, and he can feel his blood beginning to heat up.

You stand up, glaring at him. “Whatever. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Yoongi retorts before stomping off. You hear the distinct slam of the greenhouse door, and you sit back down in a huff.

It’s not like Yoongi is a bad person. He’s a great person. Hell, he’s perfect. And maybe that’s what pissed you off so much about him.

You liked him when you first met him. You might’ve even harbored a small crush on him. But after years of being groomed as the “prodigy student,” the girl destined for greatness, it irked you to find someone so good at magic―and so easily praised by your idol. Working for the Wizard Seokjin is a dream come true, but he never seems to have time for you. He might give you a passive nod after a potion well-done, but all Yoongi needs to do is smile at him and all of a sudden he’s getting cakes and cookies and a new plant to take care of.

Quite simply, you hated that. So you hated him.

The only good thing that came out of meeting Yoongi was the fact that you push yourself to be the best you can be every single day. You practice your magic into long, dark hours, ignoring the pulse of your head after so many spells. Magic flows from your fingers with incredible ease, and everywhere but the shop, at least, you are praised for it. At least something was worth it.

As the sun finally set to reveal a shimmering night sky, Yoongi flips the shop’s sign to “closed,” and you both begin packing up for the evening. Seokjin returns, his arms stuffed to the brim of all kinds of wacky looking plants and contraptions. Yoongi rushes to help him, ending up with a hoard of stuff that piled high and obscured his vision.

You crack a smile until Yoongi says, “I can feel your happiness. Stop it.”

Seokjin sets down his bags before taking the load off, one by one, and ratting off each thing’s use. “This one,” he says, holding up a clear jar with red fluid sloshing around in it, “is siren’s blood. Straight from the Seventh Sea. Pretty isn’t it? See the way it glitters?”

“Gross,” Yoongi says, his nose scrunching in distaste. “I can smell it through the jar.”

“What’s it for?” you ask.

“Really good for curses,” Seokjin replies as he stashes it away. “It’s pretty potent stuff. Good for enemies.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not to be used on innocent shapeshifters!” Yoongi pipes up, not liking the idea of you having access to such a thing.

“You act as if I would hurt you―”

Both Seokjin and Yoongi interrupt you with a sharp look.

“―on purpose! You didn’t let me finish!”

“The ‘innocent shapeshifter’ is right, Y/N. No curses.” Yoongi smiles triumphantly until the wizard says, “And you’re not allowed to use it to make yourself into some terrifying, super animal, okay?”

“Wait, I can do that?”

“Don’t give him ideas!” you shout.

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin says with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Gods, you two really don’t know when to cut it out, do you? No matter. I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning! Now get out. I can’t stand the sound of you two arguing.”

You and Yoongi give him a sheepish grin and utter your goodbyes before exiting the shop. The streets have a wispy, yellow glow to them, courtesy of the streetlights. You see a few pixies flying near the rooftops, dancing to a tune that you can’t hear.

“Gonna stand there the entire night?” asks Yoongi from behind you, ruining the serenity of the moment.

“Not as long as you’re here,” you reply cooly. You step away from him, turning to head home. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be afraid to call in sick.”

“And make your day? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yoongi watches you go, shaking his head in irritation. You hear the sound of him morphing, but when you turn around, his figure is long gone. You shrug, continuing down the quiet street on your own. You pass stores and boutiques, markets and taverns before arriving at a cozy cafe on the street’s corner.

The bell on the door jingles as you push your way in, and a fluffy, two-headed puppy bounds its way up to you. You squat down in excitement, cooing and petting the dog until a shadow appear over you.

“I swear he likes you more than me. One day he’s just gonna leave with you.”

“If that’s the case I can consider my life a successful one. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Dork,” he says with a cheesy grin, pulling you into a hug. “How was work?”

“Terrible.”

“Yoongi?”

“Hate that guy.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and laughs, walking back towards the counter, his cloak flowing behind him. “He’s a good guy,” he says as he turns on the latte machine. “I don’t know what you have against him.”

You groan. “Can everyone stop telling me he’s such a great guy? I’m over it!”

“Well, he is. Sorry.”

“Taehyungie,” you whine. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Take my side for once!”

“As your best friend it is my legal obligation to tell you when you should shut the fuck up and make friends with the guy.”

You huff, sitting in a chair with Cosmo comfortably seated in your lap. “That’s it. Cosmo is my new best friend.”

“Fine. Yoongi is mine.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Taehyung shrugs, bringing back a latte for you and a juice for himself. “I’ve known him forever. He’s a good friend.”

“Better than me?”

“No,” Taehyung snorts, “you both are terrible. Always complaining about each other and never doing anything about it.”

Cosmo hops off of your lap to snuggle up next to his owner. Taehyung alternates between heads, scratching them both behind the ears.

“Oh, he talks about me?”

“Don’t let it inflate your ego. He’s just telling me about what a bad person you are. You two seriously need to think about couple’s therapy. It’s been two years.”

“Taehyung―”

“Look, Y/N, in all seriousness, I love you both. Sure, I’ve known you longer, but I’d be lying if I said Yoongi wasn’t a good friend.” He pauses to sip his drink. “But if you both are going into the same career, which is, keep in mind, healing, then you need to learn to work with people you don’t like.”

“Yeah, but Yoongi is―”

“Is a person that you’re spending a lot of time with, like it or not. Might as well make the most of the situation.”

You slump in your chair, suddenly feeling very childish. You love Taehyung, but you hate how he’s always right. He’s too damn smart. “I knew I should’ve talked to Hoseok today.”

“Really?” Taehyung laughs. “The man’s a sadist! He’d be giving you the worst advice possible.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I need.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N. C’mon. Try it my way first. Then, if it really, really sucks, you can go talk to the witchdoctor and see what he has to say.”

“Fine, fine. But only because I love you.”

“Mmhmm, I love you, too. Now go. Namjoon’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh?” you say as you stand. “How’s that going?”

“Would probably go better if you weren’t here when he showed up!” he exclaims as he about shoves you out the door.

“Okay, okay, okay! Bye, Taehyung.”

“Bye, Y/N. Let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do. Can I take Cosmo with me?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fucker.”

Against Taehyung’s wishes, you show up at Hoseok’s door anyway, and he greets you with a mischievous smile. “Can I do something for you, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I need a curse.”

―

You take a deep breath before entering the shop, trying to swallow the last of your pride. Taehyung is right, you know it. You just need to be the bigger person.

You climb the steps, and the door opens with a soft creak. Yoongi is already there, humming quietly as he organizes his plants. There’s a fairy napping on his shoulder, but she flies out of sight as soon as she hears you.

Yoongi looks up, expecting a snide remark, but he’s pleasantly surprised when all you say is, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Do anything fun last night?” you ask as you rifle through the papers that Seokjin has left at your desk.

“I―uh, yeah. Visited some friends.”

“Cool, me too.” You sit down, your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you take in the information before you. Most of the papers are written in Ancient Draconian, and you can’t for the life of you remember what the squiggly symbol means.

“Hey, uh,” Yoongi interrupts you, waving a hand in front of your face.

You look up in confusion, not expecting to see him standing so close. “Yeah? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just… acting really nice, is all.”

Your cheeks flush and you look back down, averting his gaze. “I just figure that we should be nicer to each other is all.”

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. Taehyung. He points to the squiggly symbol on the paper. “Mix thoroughly.”

You pause, not quite registering that Min Yoongi just willingly helped you. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turns around, going back to work. The fairy from before is now hiding in his hair, eyeing you suspiciously. “She’s up to something,” West whispers just loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

“Don’t be so cynical.”

The two of you are doing your own thing in silence until Seokjin pops into the shop with a loud whap. He stops immediately, watching as the two of you work peacefully. “Did someone die?”

“Nope. Just trying something new.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, glancing feverishly between the two of you. “It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like us getting along?” you ask.

“What can I say? I must’ve gotten used to two years worth of unnecessary yelling.” The two of you say nothing as he begins his ascent up the stairs. Halfway up, he halts before saying, “You’re not fucking, are you?”

“W-What!”

“No!”

Seokjin puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Felt like I had to ask.” And with that, he disappears.

The air is thick with uncomfortable tension until someone walks in, and you both breathe in relief. It’s an attractive young man, dressed in a suit of fine, red silk and a black robe. He fiddles with his watch before turning his attention towards you.

“I’m here to pick up a potion.”

“O-Oh, yes. Sorry. Uh, name?”

“Jeon Jungkook. Can I also pick up a few ingredients while I’m here?”

“Sure. Yoongi can help you with that.”

Yoongi hops beside you, giving the visitor a gracious smile. “What are you looking for today, Sir?”

“Mm, a few things. Fairy wings, golden nightshade, black shrooms, and a couple of unicorn tears.”

“Sure,” Yoongi says with a nod. “The fairy wings and unicorn tears are here, and if you prefer, you can pick out the nightshade and shrooms yourself.”

“I would like that very much, yes.”

“Follow me then.”

Yoongi leads Jungkook to the greenhouse, and the two of them walk in silence until Jungkook says, “So how long have you and Y/N been together?”

Yoongi stops, eyes wide. “I―uh. What? We’re not… How do you know her name?”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook says with a small laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the future from the present.”

“What?”

“I’m a seer. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. I can see people as they are now and who they’re going to become. Trying to work on seeing people in the past, but that’s a bit tricky. Everybody’s hidden themselves away.”

“So,” Yoongi says as he leads them towards the field of nightshade, “you’re telling me that we… me and Y/N… we become a couple?”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“No I just… We hate each other.”

“Hate? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What are you talking about? There’s not a single day that she and I have ever gotten along.”

Jungkook smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets. Yoongi thinks he looks infuriatingly calm. “She envies you. You admire her. Your ‘hate’ is just a miscommunication. Plus your souls are practically yearning to be together. I thought it was obvious.”

They stop at the nightshade garden, and Jungkook begins picking his way through them, leaving a dumbfounded Yoongi to process this information alone. “So we’re… soulmates?” Yoongi asks quietly as Jungkook picks his plant.

“Yep,” the seer says quite nonchalantly. “But beyond that it’s kind of blurry. Not sure why.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. It’s blurry. What more do you want me to say?”

“I’m not a mage. I don’t know what ‘blurry’ means.”

“It means I can’t see. I can see images. I see you two together. But beyond that it’s all very hazy. It’s blurry.”

“Sounds like a lot of projection to me,” Yoongi replies as he leads the young seer to the shroom patch. “Did Taehyung put you up to this?”

“Oh, you know Taehyung? I love that guy! His dog is super cute too.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

Jungkook laughs again. “Certainly not. Taehyung takes orders. Doesn’t give ‘em,” he says with a smirk.

Yoongi cringes. He did not need to know that. “Here are the shrooms. The black ones are back there.”

Jungkook nods, careful not to tread on any. “Shrooms can see into your soul too, can’t they? What do they say?”

Yoongi knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to give this guy the smug satisfaction of being right. “I don’t know.”

“Hm, maybe I’m wrong then.” He steps back onto the main path and Yoongi begins to lead them back into the shop. “But I’m probably not. Thanks for the stuff. How much will that be?”

“That’s forty-six gold,” you interject from your place at the counter.

“Perfect. I’ll see you two love-birds around, yeah? Have a good day.”

You watch him exit with wide eyes before turning to Yoongi. “Uh…”

“Don’t ask. Guy’s crazy.”

―

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you realize that you don’t actually have to try to be nice to Yoongi. You can just do it. Maybe he’s not all bad.

He still irritates you, though.

“So I hear you two are getting along now, huh?” Taehyung says from across the table.

Hoseok, who had been slurping at his food noisily, stops and looks up. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah. We are. Doesn’t make him less annoying though.”

“How’s that curse going?”

“No need for your curses, Hoseok,” Taehyung replies with a shake of his head.

Hoseok shrugs. “Too late. Already done.”

Taehyung looks at the both of you in shock. “You did what?” he screams.

“Relax,” he says around a mouthful of food. “It’s nothing bad. Just take away something he loves.”

“Hoseok!”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anyone. The thing he loves most right now is an old record player.”

“Or,” Taehyung interjects, “you could, I don’t know, not.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” He turns his attention back to you. “So tell me more about this Yoongi character. Y’all gonna fuck?”

Taehyung’s face turns at his crass statement, and you slap his arm. “We will not! He’s a friend.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and Taehyung’s face is absolutely glowing.

“He’s a friend! Oh my gods I have to go tell the whole world.”

“Please, don’t. I hate you.”

“It’s okay. You love Yoongi.”

“Wow, can’t believe she’s all grown-up. Boyfriend and everything,” Hoseok laughs.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you shout defensively.

“Yeah, yeah. So I hear he’s a pretty powerful shapeshifter, right? Super young too.”

“Yeah,” says Taehyung. “He’s got a pretty impressive streak. And you hear the rumors about his family? They say that Min shapeshifters can become magical entities.”

“Aren’t they already magical entities themselves?”

“No, no, like demons. Angels. Unicorns. Mermaids. Dragons.”  

“What? No way. And a healer too, huh? Sounds like you two are perfect together, Y/N.”

“We’re not―”

“Oh no,” Taehyung says, “they’re soulmates.”

“Can you both please―”

“I knew it.”

“Stop it!” you bark, causing them both to stop and look at you. “Nothing is happening! He’s a friend, okay? Yes. That’s it. Now, my break is over, so I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. See you.”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself as you make your way back to the shop. When the door opens, you’re afraid to find yourself suddenly pinned to the floor and face-to-face with a very mean looking wolf. Your body is frozen in panic, and for a second you forget any magic you had ever learned.

But then the wolf turns into a man, and you’re faced with one happy looking Min Yoongi. “That’s for being late,” he says as he climbs off you before extending you a hand.

You take it, and apparently Yoongi is stronger than you think because he pulls you right up, and now you’re face-to-face with his chest instead. Wow.

“Jerk,” you murmur before pulling away, the slightest tint to your cheeks.

“Aw, don’t be mad. You set my shirt on fire when I was late, remember?”

“Oh, right―”

“And then you said I had rabies.”

You cringe, preferring not to remember the more unsavory aspects of your behavior towards him. “Right. I know. I deserved that. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi laughs, his cheeks crinkling to accommodate his big smile. “Wow, I can’t believe I got an apology out of you.”

“That’s the only one you’ll ever get,” you say with a smile.

The day goes by easily; you spent most of it poured over your books. Seokjin left plenty of things for you to decrypt, most of them being lost spells. Where he acquired them you were afraid to ask.

“It’s closing time,” Yoongi says, appearing beside you. You look up, surprised to see that the world is dark beyond the shop’s windows.

“Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“You’re too wrapped up in… what is this? Elvish?”

You giggle. “Nope. Mermaidian. Can you believe it?”

“I thought their spells were lost in the sinking of Atlantis.”

You thought so too, but apparently not. “Don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “And I’m not about to ask Seokjin. He does enough sketchy activity on his own.”

“You might have a point. C’mon. I’ll clean if you file.”

“Aw, what a gentleman.”

The cabinet complains loudly as you nudge it open, filing away the day’s receipts. Yoongi swipes up any stray dirt and waters his plants one last time. Your mind is preoccupied with the spells, though, and you’re running through the motions in your head. As soon as you’re finished, you’re back at your desk, trying to comprehend its instructions. You don’t notice Yoongi leaning on the broom, watching you intensely. The way you run your fingers through your hair, or the way your hair keeps falling out from behind your ears. The way you get a slight flush to your cheeks when you’ve made a breakthrough, or the adorable way you whisper as you talk yourself through it.

It’s when you smile to yourself and the thing in Yoongi’s chest damn near purrs that he drops the broom he’s leaning on and almost falls because, well, when did he catch feelings for you?

You perk up, alerted by the noise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “Scared myself is all. I think I’m tired.”

You nod. “Go home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. What about you?” he asks as he grabs his bag.

“I’ll close up. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yoongi departs and you throw yourself back into your work, the solitary atmosphere something of second nature to you. You read the words of the script outloud, the hand motions coming to you naturally, and glittery, golden water fills up your hands. The fairy Novus, who likes to come and watch you sometimes, gives you a cheer, and you file the spell away, moving on to the next.

This one is a bit harder, and you laugh a bit to yourself because, hey, this one is in Elvish. It takes a couple tries (and a lot of frustrated murmuring) before you’re able to get it; thorny vines erupt from shimmering green sigils on the ground, whipping around dangerously like they’re looking for an enemy to strike. You quickly reverse your actions, the sigils vanishing into thin air and taking the vines along with it.

“Old Elvish battle spell,” you say to Novus as you file it away. “Good for enemies.”

“What about this one?” He flies down to your desk, picking a spell written on burn parchment. The writing shimmers, but there’s something deeply unsettling about it. You shrug and pick it up.

“Not sure. Looks Draconian, but it’s not.”

Novus hovers over it for a second before looking up at you in realization. “Oh! It’s an old spell from the Blood Age! It’s like a combination of Draconian and Vampiric.”

“Hmm, sounds utterly terrifying.” You smile. “I’m gonna try it.”

“Do you need help reading it?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

Novus shakes his head, sitting atop your shoulder as he helps you recite the words. When you’ve learned it fully, Novus steps back and watches the magic happen.

―

Yoongi is halfway through his flight home when he feels it. The thing in his chest growls, twists and turns and he abruptly drops in altitude, suddenly feeling very wrong. It doesn’t take him long to realize that something’s happened to you, and he’s darting back towards the shop within seconds.

There’s an eerie red light emanating from the shop when he gets there, and when he knocks on the door, he gets no answer. “Y/N?” he shouts. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

No answer. The Thing urges him forward, begging him to just kick down the damn door.

So he does.

The door opens to reveal you, eyes closed as you cry out, your feet chained down by restraints that wind up from a terrifying, red portal. Yoongi takes a step towards you before he’s pushed roughly back by a small, purple light.

“Don’t touch it!” Novus shouts. “It’s bad magic! Bad magic!”

“What? What happened? We need to get her out of there!”

“No, no, no,” the fairy cries, zipping around the shop in a panic. “Bad magic, it’s bad magic…”

Yoongi turns to you, and the Thing shouts as he watches you scream in pain, your eyes opening for a split second to land on him before closing again. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that you’re hurting and something is trying to take you from him and oh, gods, why does his chest hurt so bad?

He doubles over in pain, and his head starts to feel fuzzy, like he’s falling asleep. The Thing roars, and he blacks out.

When he wakes up, he’s in his apartment. He does not remember getting there. He also does not know why you’re cradled in his arms, nor does he know why he physically can’t bring himself to let you go. But most importantly, why are the two of you on the hard-fucking-floor?

Yoongi lifts you gently and brings you into his room. He tucks you underneath the covers before tucking you under him, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he pulls you tightly to his chest. He breathes in your scent before drifting off again, his mind hazy.

―

You wake with a start, the previous night’s events rushing back to you at once. You remember Novus. You remember the language. You remember the words. You remember watching as your hands conjured a portal straight from Hell, and you watched as the Devil’s Ropes ensnared your feet, then your legs and hands. You remember a voice, a deep, ugly voice whispering your darkest fears in your ears. You remember blinding pain, coursing through your body as if in your very blood. But most important you remember Yoongi. He was there. He transformed into something terrible, something you never though capable, and he closed the portal himself.

And as everything came back to you, your body shook, and tears fell from your face. You bury your head in the pillow, afraid that when you open your eyes you would see it all again.

But when you do open your eyes again it’s to a soft-smiling Yoongi, gently rubbing the tears off your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he says, “You’re safe with me.”

You hesitate, all of a sudden unsure of how to act, before rolling into him, body pressed right against his as you cry. He holds you close, stroking you lightly and whispering reassurances until your body stops trembling.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He leans down and kisses your head, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. “What would I do without my favorite coworker?”

You sit up abruptly. “Work! Seokjin’s gonna kill me! I’m―”

“Come here,” he says, grabbing you by the hand and putting you back on the bed. “You’re taking a day off. I’ll tell him what happened.”

“But Yoongi―”

“Good luck trying to argue with me,” he laughs. “I’ll send Taehyung over to check on you, okay?”

You nod, sinking back down into the bed. “Okay.”

―

“I can’t believe it! He’s your prince charming!”

“Shut up, Tae. So he saved me from a demonic portal. Big deal.”

“Gods, you’re dense.”

“What are you talking about?” you groan.

“Okay, tell me, how did Yoongi know to come back for you?”

“Uh, I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“You know, as smart as you are, you can be pretty stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Shapeshifters have what can only be described as a thing in their chest, right? The source of all their powers?”

“Yeah, yeah. This is common knowledge, Tae.”

“Well the Thing is alert to danger when something they care strongly for is in trouble.”

“Okay…?”

“Holy fuck, you’re slow! He cares about you! And a hell of a lot too if his Thing thinks you’re that important.”

“What, so, it thinks I’m like his mate?”

“I mean, weird way to put it, but yeah. Pretty much.”

You lean back, your soup long forgotten. “Woah.”

“Now the question is, how do you feel about him?”

“I actually… I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking about it. ‘Cause the truth is out there for him at least. I know you like to hide yourself from people, Y/N,” Taehyung says, standing to clean up. “But do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t hide from him.”

Taehyung leaves you confused and irritated in Yoongi’s apartment, and there’s not much for you to do except pace back and forth impatiently.

“How do I feel about Yoongi?” you said aloud. “Hell if I know!” You flick your fingers in agitation, sparks flying from them every so often. Okay, yes, he’s good looking. Really good looking, but who’s paying attention? He’s got a heart of gold; you’ve seen it firsthand.

But that doesn’t mean you like him, right?

Sure, he can be equal parts infuriating and equal parts endearing. And, sure, the way that little kids and magical creatures alike flock to him is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and yes, he has the cutest smile, and wow you wish you weren’t so stupid because you’ve obviously liked him for a while now. Maybe you even loved him. At this point, who knew? Certainly not you.

You flop down on his couch in defeat. You really should’ve seen that coming from a mile away. At least Taehyung did.

The door rattles and keys jingle from the other side of it, and you realize that the sun had set long ago. You sit up, looking a bit frazzled as Yoongi walks in, and he looks just as startled, not really expecting you to pop up like that.

“What’s up?” he asks with a laugh, placing his keys on the counter.

“Not much. Thanks for sending Taehyung over by the way. How was work? Was Seokjin mad? Is he going to fire me?”

“Relax,” he says as he comes to sit next to you. “He felt really bad, actually. He never meant to put that spell in your stack.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi looks at you with a sweet, sincere smile, and suddenly it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. His pretty, pale skin. The way his hair falls over his head. His deep, thoughtful eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks, pulling you out of your trance.

“Um. No. Actually. Okay, wow, I just…”

Don’t hide from him.

“I wanna tell you something.”

“Why doesn’t that sound good?”

“No, no, it’s good!” You pause. “I hope.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay, okay.” You take a deep breath. Taehyung’s words replaying in your mind.

Don’t hide from him.

“I… think I like you.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you think he’s about to reject you, and you swear you’re going to murder Kim Taehyung until he says, “That’s a relief.” He inches closer to you, and suddenly you’re very aware of your proximity. “Because I think I like you, too.”

Overwhelmed with the incredible urge to kiss the man in front of you, you only hesitate for a second before your lips are on his, and suddenly everything feels right in the world.

You can’t explain it; maybe it’s magic. Something is dancing through you, lifting you up and making your heart race. It’s something to do with Yoongi, you know, but beyond that you can’t tell. All you really care about is the fact that his lips are so soft and you wish you had done this sooner.

Yoongi’s hand slides to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, desperate to have you as close as possible. The thing in his chest is fucking ecstatic, having waited too long. Yoongi bites down gently on your bottom lip, and your mouth opens to let out a small gasp, a sound he quickly swallows back down. His hands are digging roughly into your sides, itching to go farther but afraid to make the first move. You’re wrapped around his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there.

You depart from his lips, evoking a quiet, needy sound from him as you move across his cheek and down his jaw before reaching his neck. You nip the skin, and Yoongi can’t help but grind up into you. It occurs to you that Min Yoongi is hard underneath you, and you’re doing no better, and you grind down into him, eliciting the sweetest of sounds from him.

“Y/N… we can… we can stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“A-Are you sure.”

You pause to look up at him and nod eagerly. “I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back,” he says, and the look in your eyes tells you that he’s telling the truth.

You lean in close and whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

He growls, wrapping you around his waist as he stands and carries you into the bedroom. He hardly hesitates, stripping his clothes off before ripping off your own. His eyes drink you in, loving the sight of you flushed and spread out before him, and he’s barely begun. He takes your mouth back in his before leaving kisses across your body, making sure to take pleasured time at your nipples.

He pinches one, rolling it between his fingers as he licks and laps at the other, not ever really wanting to stop because the sounds you make are oh, so pretty. But if it’s sounds he wants then it’s sounds he gets as a stray finger finds its place at your folds, flicking at your clit.

You arch your back, yelling out Yoongi’s name, and he hums in satisfaction. “That’s it, pretty girl. Say my name.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you moan as he descends, wanting to taste you for himself.

“You’re so wet for me already. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you whimper, already so pathetically fucked out for him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out quickly, just to see your reaction, but it’s hard to tease you when you’re pushing so hard on his head. You yank on his hair, and he gives you a slap on the leg that says, “Behave.”

You squirm under him as he finally puts his mouth on you, tongue working wonders. He easily slips two fingers inside you and you cry out, the sensation nothing but bliss. He licks at you roughly and fucks you on his fingers, loving the way you twist and turn beneath him.

“You taste so good, baby,” he says before returning back to your dripping center.

“Fuck, fuck, Yoongi,” you murmur as he nibbles at your clit. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re not in charge here, baby,” he says before standing up and giving your pussy a slap. You yelp, gripping tightly to the bedsheets. Yoongi’s face is coated in your juices, and he’s never looked happier. “Come here,” he commands.

You obey, though at first you have trouble, your legs shaking from denied pleasure. “Why don’t you get me ready for you?” You take a hold of his cock, already leaking precum and just begging to be sucked, but as you lean in towards him, he grabs a hold of your hair and says, “Nah, uh, baby. I’m gonna give everything I have to that sweet pussy of yours.”

You nod, not able to find a voice for yourself. You pump him gently, and he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. You pick up your pace and his mouth drops open, face scrunched in concentration as he tries not to cum in your hand right then and there.

Eventually he’s had enough, and he says, “Lay back, babe.”

Your back hits the mattress without a second though, eager to finally have him inside of you. Yoongi laughs, stopping to kiss you gently. He massages your thighs a couple of times before looking deep into your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to ask, “Is this okay?”

You give him a small nod, telling him to go ahead. He chases your lips one last time before lining himself up at your entrance.

“Please, Yoongi,” you plead.

He doesn’t respond, but looks at you through lidded eyes, his body awash with lust. “I’ll try to hold back.” He pushes his way in, and the both of you have your heads thrown back in groans of pleasure.

“D-Don’t,” you pant, struggling to find your voice. “Don’t hold back.”

“Baby…”

You grab his arm in urgency, the only thing on your mind the desperate urge to be fucked. “Please!”

Yoongi nods, withdrawing from you carefully before slamming back into you. The force has him slipping out of you, so he respositions himself and holds you close before entering you again. His grip is tight, and you can do nothing but sit there and take it.

Yoongi fucks into you with abandon, pouring everything from the last two years into his thrusts. Hate. Anger. Jealousy. Friendship. Happiness. Adoration.

He’s losing his goddamn mind inside you, and you’re no better.

Something’s alight inside of you, a fine sheen of sweat coating your body, but it’s nothing compared to the feelings raging inside you. You want this to last forever. “Yoongi,” you say, your mind dizzy with lust, “look at me.”

Yoongi does, a hand on your waist coming to trap your wrists above your head, and he stares right into your soul as he fucks the life out of you. You lean up to kiss him, though it’s more or less just tongue on tongue. The room is nothing but the sound of sex, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

It starts in your toes, climbing its way up your body until you’re shivering. It starts to coil, centering in your stomach.”Y-Yoongi… Fuck… I’m gonna―fuck―I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, babe. Me too. Just wait. Just wait.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Touch me, please.”

Yoongi’s hand darts to your clit, feverishly working the sensitive bud. Your nails dig into his back, the sensation becoming too much.

“Cum with me, babe,” he says, and that’s all it takes for the two of you to come undone together.

You open your mouth in a scream, and Yoongi sticks two fingers in. You bob your head on them as if you were sucking his cock, muffling the sounds of your orgasm.

Finally the two of you come down, heaving as you collapse back onto the bed. You can feel the cum dripping out of you, but you really don’t give a damn. Everything just feels too good.

“Y/N?” Yoongi says through heavy breathing.

“Hm?” you answer sleepily.

“I think I lied earlier. When I said I liked you.”

“What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

―

And you fall in love right back, and Seokjin is so sick of seeing the two of you cuddle at work that he is actually contemplating firing you both.

“I think I liked it better when you guys always argued,” Seokjin grumbles as he rifles through paperwork. Yoongi only grins, stealing a kiss from you on his way to the greenhouse. “Yuck. Definitely liked it better when you guys always argued.”

“Bite me,” you laugh, sticking your tongue out in defiance.

“That’s my job!” Yoongi calls from the other side of the shop, and Seokjin groans in disgust. You scratch at your hand as you continue to work; the annoying itch set in about two weeks ago and still hasn’t gone away. Seokjin takes notice, and grabs it to inspect.

“Still there, huh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what it is.”

“Get bit?”

“I don’t see a bite mark.”

“I can put a salve on it.”

“Yeah, please.”

Yoongi’s traipsing through the water lily garden when he hears Seokjin shout, “Yah! Get some blue shrooms for your girlfriend! I’m doing a thing!”

“Sounds sketch!” he shouts back but does as he’s told. The shroom patch is extra chatty today, much to his chagrin, and they’re all eager to get a word in. He does a pretty good job at ignoring them until a cursed shroom speaks up. They only have one; it’s good for enemies, as Seokjin says, and it’s an ugly, little thing. It’s green and brown and speaks with venom in its voice.

Yoongi is expecting some vicious jibe or harsh remark, but instead the shroom just says, simply, “What do you love most?”

Yoongi hesitates. “What?”

“You heard me.” The shroom repeats itself. “What, in your life, do you love most?”

It sounds like a harmless question, so Yoongi answers, “Y/N, of course.”

“Of course,” the shroom says, and its mouth morphs into a horrible grin as a shrill scream pierces the air. Yoongi looks up in a panic, knowing full well that that’s you.

“What did you do?” Yoongi shrieks, the thing in his chest bubbling in fear and anger.

“Nothing that wasn’t already done.”

Yoongi rips the shroom out of the ground and throws it onto the floor before running as fast as he can. His human legs, he decides, aren’t fast enough and he’s at your side in the form of a big, black wolf. He morphs back into a human and holds you in his arms, searching to Seokjin for answers.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, panic rising in his chest.

Seokjin looks just as alarmed. “I don’t know! She was just standing here! And then something happened, I don’t know, and now there’s a mark on her hand!”

“A mark? What mark?” He turns to look down at you and finds you sobbing, clutching desperately at your left hand. His heart aches to see you that way, and the Thing isn’t too happy about it either. “Baby,” he says, “let me see your hand.”

“I c-can’t,” you sob. “H-Hurts, Yoongi, it hurts!”

“Let me see. We can make it go away.”

With coaxing from both Yoongi and Seokjin, you’re able to release your hand long enough to show them the source of your pain. A large ‘X’ is embedded in your skin, written in an odd mix of gold glitter and your own blood.

Seokjin frowns, a look that does not put Yoongi at ease, and says, “Let’s put her to sleep for a bit. Then we can try and discern what’s wrong.”

Yoongi doesn’t have nearly half a second to protest when Seokjin is already casting the spell, and you fall limp in Yoongi’s arms. At least you’re not crying anymore. Yoongi carries you upstairs at Seokjin’s behest and lays you on his bed.

“What the hell is that?” he asks the wizard who’s pacing nervously around the room. He doesn’t get an answer when two figures zap into the room.

“Got your message,” Taehyung says, rushing to your side. “What happened?”

“Maybe you can tell me,” Seokjin replies, anger lacing his voice.

“What? Are you trying to imply I had something to do with it?”

“No. But your friend here might.”

Hoseok looks up in shock. “Okay, I am a lot of things but never, never would I hurt Y/N.”

“Look at her hand,” Seokjin says simply, and the color drains from Hoseok’s face.

“What? But I…”

Then he notices Yoongi standing there, and everything clicks into place. He storms at him, grabbing the shapeshifter and thrusting him against the wall.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi growls, ready to tear him limb from limb.

“What did you do?” Hoseok hisses, and Yoongi can only stare at him dumbfounded.

“What did I do? What did you do?”

“What did you do right before this happened? Right before the mark appeared?” Hoseok pressed.

“I… I don’t know! I was having a conversation with a dumb shroom, is all!”

“You idiot! Shrooms can see into the future!”

“So?”

“Gods, you activated the curse!”

“What curse?”

“Ah, the curse, the curse…” Hoseok mumbles, letting Yoongi down.

Taehyung approaches his friend, and he looks quite calm, so Yoongi isn’t expecting him to slap him so hard across the face.

“Motherfucker,” he fumes. “I told you. I told you. Look what you’ve done!”

“She came to me!”

“And all you had to do was say no! It’s easy! One word! N-O!”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Yoongi bellows over the chaos, his voice reverberating enough to shake the room. Yoongi notices that Seokjin is crying, Taehyung’s eyes are glassy, and Hoseok looks like he’s about to collapse; he’s not so sure he wants to know anymore.

“You tell him,” Taehyung whispers. “You tell him.”

“I… I’m sorry… The curse… You can’t go back…”

“W-What?”

“It’s the Devil’s Trade,” Seokjin says, his voice rough. Yoongi has never heard him sound so wrecked. “Take away the thing your enemy loves most.” Yoongi sucks in a breath. “And you shall have the ultimate revenge.”

“At the time of the curse, you loved a record player the most. She was supposed to ask you about. She was supposed to ask you the question. But then she wanted to be nice to you and started being friends, and I guess she forgot.”

“So you’re…” Yoongi stumbles backwards. He can’t breathe. “She’s gonna… I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles again. “She’s gonna die.”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he can’t see anymore. All he can see is your broken figure, barely heaving a breathe in Seokjin’s bed. Yoongi does what he does best: he runs. He runs right out of the shop and right into the sky.

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it tugs on his wings like the hand that tugs at his heart. He hates this. Hates that all of a sudden he has no control, his life seemingly flailing like a flag in the wind.

The worst thing, however, has to be the fact that all he can remember is you.

The thing in his chest tells him to go be with you, to be by your side, but he can’t bear to see you like that. He wants to see you laugh and smile and dance with him. He wants to see you waking up next to him. He wants to see you when he comes home.

But he knows it’s not an option. He needs to be strong for you. 

He lands again, and stares at the building where he knows you’re sleeping. He takes a deep breath and steps inside the magic shop, exchanging his fears for a positive attitude.

[help-its-a-dot]

Alright so when I took this job they said all I had to do was narrate. You know, just follow this guy around and relay what he’s doing, make it sound interesting, yada yada yada.

Ok now that I say it out loud I realize that I’ve probably looked like a stalker for the past few days.

Fun.

ANYWAYS I was going somewhere with this; I had a point. Right. My point was that I didn’t think I’d end up in the middle of a burned down park, cowering in absolute terror behind some rocks that I really wish were bigger, and longing with all that's left of my heart that I could be one of those people that are, given the situation, naturally sprinting away whilst screaming at the top of their lungs.

Should I run away? I mean, it seems like the more logical option here; If I could get over that bridge, then I’d-

*bridge disintegrates*

Well there goes that.

Looks like I’ll be narrating then! Yippee. So, I should probably warn you, I haven’t exactly been paying attention to my assigned main character, ergo I don't have that much background knowledge. Oh who am I kidding, I have none.

Anyhow, sorry, I know I should be narrating. I’m getting to that. Background knowledge. What do I know?

Uh, actually nothing much happened to this dude. A few weeks ago he found a dead body in his bathtub. Now that I think about it, that’s probably where I should’ve started paying attention….

Ah, fucked this up, didn’t I.

Also, as a side note, I’m gonna be calling this dumbass Jake because my dumbass kind of sort of didn’t ever really at all catch his name.

Alrighty folks! I’m gonna…. Be brave…. And peek out from behind these rocks…. Did I mention how much I wished they were bigger? 

Ahem. *clears throat*. Narrator voice. *nods decisively*. Lets go.

There’s fire everywhere. On the tops of trees like snow at the peaks of mountains (how are there even still trees here) bushes have morphed into bonfires, while patches of grass are practically leaking little flames like a dope game of ‘the floor is lava’.

Jake stands, looking at the devastation with wide eyes. Smoke billows out into the sky, painting the already grey clouds black.

A deafening crash sounds behind him- you know, the kind you get when a boulder squishes a four story building like it’s a three year old’s structure of off brand legos. He’s thrown to the ground, and waits, breathing heavily.

Aw god why did I forgot my flask of vodka today? I freaking need it.

And as if that weren’t enough, a spaceship just blipped into the sky.

Should I run?

I should probably run.

Sorry, sorry, I’m not very good at this narrator thing. In my defense, I didn’t think they were serious! Alright, I’m gonna try that again.

Suddenly, and quite literally out of nowhere, there’s a fatally blinding blue-red light, making everyone in the immediate vicinity-- which isn’t that many people anymore, most have used their last few remaining drops of common sense and fled for their lives --squeeze their eyes shut and hastily bury their heads in whatever was nearest and most convenient to shield themselves from impending blindness, wailing in a mix of surprise and agony. All flames previously terrorizing the verdure are extinguished and the smoke is blown out as a single gust of forceful wind, which also effectively topples the few remaining, yet charred nonetheless, trees, buildings, and people.

Augh, ew, eurgh, I got a mouthful of Martin’s grocery bag. How do I know it’s Martin’s? They have a distinctive taste of mild sadness and resignation. Right, right, the spaceship. 

See, when I say spaceship, I mean cool looking flying saucer thingy appearing like it was plucked right out of a conspiracy theory and given some upgrades. It’s a giant, azure/ultramarine blue, except for the bottom which shines in a weirdly mesmerizing yellowish glow, squished sphere. Oval. Pancake. Sorry, I don't know my shapes. It seems to be practically thrumming with energy, like it drank five red bulls followed by ten extremely caffeinated coffees and finished it all off with a few five hour energy drinks. 

I cannot tell you how much I hope it doesn't do what it looks like it’s gonna do and explode.

Meanwhile, Jake has picked up… a sword. Well shit. Medieval, much? Not a gun? No? Personally, I think a gun would be extraordinarily effective against the horde of what looks like blobs but are probably extravagantly dangerous aliens filing in a weirdly orderly single file line out of the saucer and immediately beginning to lomp closer and closer and closer crap did I mention they were getting closer?

Should I run?

I should probably run.

Hold up, no, that reminds me, I’m supposed to be narrating. God, I’m atrocious at this, aren’t I.

He feels sweat break out on his brow. The sword is heavy in his hands, and he can barely lift it, let alone decapitate a blob, but he’s in too deep to let his weariness show. He’s gotta be strong and save what’s left of these people, this city, or die trying. Which is probably what’ll happen in a few minutes. But ah, well, he’ll die fighting for Americanos , which can’t be all that bad.

Technically, if you think about it, he’s suicidal, because his colossal ego will not, quite literally, for the life of him, allow him to take a smart route, like getting into that convenient truck and bowling over all the blobs, or snatching up a gun from that store across the street, or even just alerting someone who is actually capable at dealing with an event like this like the authorities.

But what can he do, he is American, after all. It's simply unavoidable; part of the culture description. *white people i swear

He watches morbidly as Martin’s grocery bags blow past from the ruins before him, and glances up as the spaceship above him gives one final thrum and blips away, probably back to wherever it came from, leaving him alone with an army of blobs bouncing threateningly towards him.

In truth, he didn’t know what they were. All he knew was that if they kept destroying everything at this rate, there won't be a single McDonalds left in America, and he couldn’t have that. Of course, by then there wouldn’t even be an America, and everyone would have to go to the McDonalds’ in Russia. Russia has McDonalds, right? Oh, he simply could not do that to his fellow citizens! 

He pondered this, along with whether or not Australia exists, all the while counting down the seconds (...7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… dammit 3, 2, 1… 3, 2, 1… 3, 2-- he’d get it eventually) until his doom and willing his arms not to shake with the incredible weight of the sword in his hands. Whose idea was it to make swords out of metal, anyways? It’s incredibly stupid-- nowadays 90% of America wouldn’t even be able to muster the courage to touch one, let alone the strength to lift one. 

Ugh, he knew he should’ve gone with that plastic light saber he’d seen at the mall. At least then he could’ve gone down with style.

As if on cue, there’s another, at this point expected, crash resounding behind him, and he turns to watch in despair as said mall tumbles almost comically to the ground. 

There goes the light saber.

And another McDonalds.

Ohh, things were getting bad.

The park, if you could still call it a park, is deserted now save for the occasional Martin’s grocery bag skittering about, and he can’t help but give in to the desire to reflect upon his life. He wasted it, playing video games and other shit like that all day, every day. This is the first time he’s been outside in a long time. He now knows with absolute certainty that if he were ever granted such an opportunity he’d go back and redo it all. He’d try harder to beat that level, he’d get the better controller, he’d stay up later working on his technique. But all that was a distant dream now, something he could not hope to accomplish now.

He wished that maybe, just maybe, heaven would have a nice game console for him.

When he’d gotten selflessly sucked into this adventure, he never thought he’d actually die, never expected anything to really happen- If he had, he of course would never have turned the power of his last 8 braincells away from a computer screen and into the real world to start investigating.

Ah fuck, sorry for interrupting, I think I twisted my wrist or some shit while trying to get a better vantage point on these still too small rocks. 

Should I run?

I should probably run.

On a different note: I’m really sorry guys. When you take a narrator job they never tell you anything about your person. Had I known he was American, I would have immediately sabotaged this entire thing; I could never in good conscience have subjected you guys to.. well.. this.

But alas, now I’m stuck narrating an American who is going to get me killed.

Unless… Unless there’s a loophole. My parents were lawyers, so I excel at finding those.

The rules are, you have to stay with your hero and narrate their adventure. How an American turned out to be one of the heroes, I know not, it must be a glitch in the system. But I’ll be fucking damned if this glitch gets me killed. Literally. So! Once the hero, inevitably, dies, you’re free to go. There’s nothing much left to narrate afterwards. And since Jake is closer to the horde of blobs coming our way than I am, as soon as he’s bowled over I’ll sprint. To the side, like a smart immigrant would do. Not straight back, because then the blobs’d just follow me and kill me, so the only logical conclusion is to circle around them and see if my apartment is still intact. I didn’t finish my cream puffs and I really don't want them to melt.

They’re getting closer. He can hear their squelching, and the chicken nuggets in his stomach churn unpleasantly. There’s bits of goo flying off them in all directions, and when said goo makes contact with something it immediately disintegrates that unfortunate something, leaving nothing behind. Is this really the fate that’ll befall him? Is this how the world ends?

Well, death by disintegration it is then. Oh, he can’t wait to brag to his boys about this.

Oh, wait, no, that’s not right. He’ll be dead.

And, in the last few moments before the blobs reach him, he reconsiders. There’s still so much this cruel world has to offer, and he never took advantage of any of it. Nor was he ever grateful for much of it. 

He suddenly feels a new feeling. Determination. He will destroy every single one of these vile creatures, and he WILL come out of it intact. He has to. 

With new resolve he scrapes together the last of his strength and raises his trusty sword over his head, every nonexistent muscle tense, ready. They’re getting closer. Closer. 50 yards. 30 yards. 20. 10. Just a few feet.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes dramatically. Swings his sword.

And is immediately squashed with the most sickening squelch there could ever be.

Ew.

Should I run?

I should probably run.

Yeah, I’m gonna run.

[endless-vall]

Vanilla yogurt - Maxwell Beaumont fanfic

Summary: A day in Maxwell’s life. Oh, and there’s a puppy.

Author’s note: Anon requested a fanfic about Maxwell adopting a dog.

He was so good with the corgi, and while their relationship is sweet, he deserves a dog of his own. I agree with him! So here ya go!

Hope you’ll like it! 

Tagging: @writtenbycandy @mariamatsuo @liam-rhys @asprankle @helentwombly. Comment on this post to let me know if you wanna be tagged as well.

Maxwell strolled down the street, back to the Cordonian palace. 

He’d just spent a whole day juggling with house Beaumont affairs, and was fairly tired.

But the approving look over Bertrand’s face was worth the struggle, and Maxwell liked to feel like he’s capable of doing something for his house, for a change.

He was still the old, silly and party-animal Maxwell everyone knew and loved, but he also had a more serious side to him, that was finally taking the platform it deserved.

Maxwell stifled a yawn, while considering stopping for ice-cream.

It was a long and fruitful day, and he deserved a treat for all his hard work, after all - Didn’t he?

Without further thought, he scanned the area for the nearest ice-cream booth or shop in the area.

Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t any ice-cream shops nearby, but there was a yogurt stand in a twenty-feet area from him.

Well, it’ll gotta do. Maxwell figured, and flashed a grin, heading that way.

“What flavor?” The nice sales man asked.

“Vanilla.” Maxwell answered without missing a beat. 

“Coming right up!” The seller announced and started filling a funky-looking cup with some fresh and cold vanilla yogurt.

“Here you go,” The seller handed over the cup to Maxwell, and he paid for his treat.

Deciding to hang around while enjoying his yummy treat, Maxwell took the long way to the palace.

He was just enjoying his cup of yogurt, when he heard a rustle from the bushed alongside the road.

“Hello?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. 

There wasn’t any answer, but then he realized it was probably not a human, hiding in the bushes, anyway.

He took a step closer, examining the area, when he heard it again.

“Awooo,” A soft, small and mellow voice called for him from the side of the road.

Maxwell pushed the herbs out of his way with his free hand, to reveal the softest, cutest creature he’d ever seen.

“Hey, little guy,” He immediately said, eyes lightning up and beaming at the small creature.

It was a golden retriever puppy, sitting alone and shivering. 

It was certainly not shivering from the cold, since it was a hot sunny day. So he was probably scared.

“Hey, hey, don’t be scared. Are you lost?” Maxwell talked to the puppy, offering his hand in an un-threatening way and letting the puppy sniff it.

The puppy stopped shivering, and examined Maxwell’s hand. He took a cautious step towards him and sniffed at his hand until he was sure Maxwell wasn’t going to cause him no harm.

After making sure it was safe, the puppy jumped up and and started licking Maxwell hand.

“Yep, that’s right, little guy, just like that!” Maxwell encouraged him before turning his hand and petting the puppy.

The puppy looked fairly pleased until he noticed the cup in Maxwell’s other hand.

“Oh,” Maxwell realized the puppy could’ve been there a long time, and since he had no collar or distinguishing features he might’ve been a stray puppy, god knows when was the last time he ate.

After a quick google search to make sure it was safe to feed a dog with yogurt, Maxwell let his furry pal finish the rest of his yogurt, while he hanged around him on the grass.

He sat next to the puppy, and scratched behind his ear when he was finished.

The puppy played around with Maxwell until he got tired, and then he climbed up on his lap and curled up to a ball, falling asleep blissfully.

“Hmm, do you have a name? An owner?” Maxwell wondered to himself.

It reminded him of the time he found Sir Wiggles and brought him back, and of how Amber adopted him. It seemed they were inseparable since, and that Amber was in love with his furry friend.

Maxwell was pretty in love with him too, but he knew Bertrand wouldn’t exactly approve of that.

But...

A tempting thought started forming in the back of his head, while he let the puppy rest on top of his lap and continued petting it, wishing him sweet dreams.

About half an hour later, the puppy started blinking awake. Maxwell stifled another yawn, and took him in his arms.

“Do you wanna come back with me?” He asked, as if the puppy could understand him.

“Arff!” And maybe he could, since he was wiggling his tail and beaming at Maxwell excitedly.

“Yes! Let’s do this!!”

After visiting a 24-hour vet office, making sure the puppy was healthy and indeed, no one else’s puppy,

and surprisingly learning that the puppy was actually a she (since Maxwell never really bothered to check anyway),

and paying a visit to a pet store to get the puppy everything she might need, Maxwell carried his new puppy towards the palace.

The place he was heading to hours ago, and Bertrand would definitely wonder where he went missing to.

But he couldn’t complain too much, not since Maxwell started helping with the house affairs.

The puppy had a new collar, and obviously, a name - Vanilla.

Maxwell wasn’t too creative with that name, but he was certainly proud of it and of Vanilla, the best puppy girl in the world.

“You did what now???”

Maxwell could swear Bertrand’s voice was ought to echo all through the palace, as Maxwell presented his, well - Their new puppy.

Ma’am Vanilla of house Beaumont.

“I adopted a puppy. I found her all alone and afraid, and we clicked right away. Bertrand, It’s meant to be!!!” Maxwell insisted.

“Yes Maxwell but taking care of a dog is a lot of responsibility, and we have better things to worry about-” Bertrand was trying to reason with him, but Maxwell didn’t really hear him.

It went through one year and right out the other.

“But Bertrand!!! Look how adorable she is!” Maxwell held up Vanilla, presenting her.

She and Maxwell eyed Bertrand with the best puppy-dog eyes possible.

Even Bertrand’s stoic expression softened under that spell.

“I... Suppose she is.” He muttered out, still unconvinced, at least not completely.

“And she’s a very good dog. I promise. I’m going to take her out and teach her everything she needs to know. Can we keep her? Pleaseeeeee?” Maxwell was giving his best show.

Eventually, Bertrand sighed.

“Fine.”

[thisisjaimee-blog]

Dakota Round-Up | Welcome To Puppy Training

It’s been awhile since I wrote about Dakota, which is straight up weird because I’m pretty sure he consumes 90% of my brain power ever since the day we brought him home, but anyhow…

Dakota is now just over 8 months old and something like 75lbs, he’s freakin’ huge! But he’s just a giant cuddly puppy, and that was none more apparent then last night at his first ever group puppy training class.

The place we chose was not only recommended by many in our community but also a convenient 15 minute walk from home – a huge plus when you realize after weeks of searching that most puppy trainers seem to be out in Ajax or on weird days or hours that don’t at all agree with mine or Matt’s schedule. We didn’t really know what to expect but we went into it optimistically and willing to do some work.

We thought we were in pretty good shape with Dakota’s at-home training. He sits, stays, comes when called, plays fetch (willingly dropping the ball and all!), can give both paws depending on what hand you offer him, and he doesn’t really give me any trouble when we’re out on walks as far as heeling, matching my speed and not chasing those damn squirrels oh-my-god-Dakota leave it alone and stop eating that-WHAT ARE YOU DOING!

        Who, me? I’m just hangin’ out

He has his quirks, but a pretty smart little dude if I may say so. So like I said, we went into this thing pretty confident.

But Dakota loves dogs. I really mean that. He LOVES dogs. Puppies. Seniors. Small dogs. Big dogs. Medium-sized dogs. Dogs that bark at him. Dogs that snub him. Dogs that love him. Dogs that don’t even look at him. Dogs with goofy looking sweaters and even goofier looking boots-he loves every single dog he comes across. I was reasonably sure Dakota’s biggest problem at training would be distractions from the other pups in the class, and I’d have to say I was bang on the money with that one, but it still didn’t prepare me for all the other things that went (in mine, and Matt’s opinion) right off the rails.

We arrived to find ourselves waiting outside the store with the other puppies, which, to our surprise (and later, dismay,) a pretty 7 month old Bernese female. Dakota was in his glory – and so was she! Bernese Mountain Dogs are weird when they see other Berners, in that they get EXTRA excited and really, really want to play, more than usual. Thankfully, we were ten minutes early, so we let them get acquainted, which meant a lot of me holding & pulling Dakota back. My arms were sore and we hadn’t even begun the class.

When we entered we had no idea what we were supposed to do, who the trainer was, or if we were to “sign in” to some degree. We fumbled about with our coats and tried to get ourselves settled while desperately trying to hold Dakota back from playing with his 4 new furry friends. Finally, perhaps sensing our struggle, a woman told us to hurry up, find a spot and have him sit down. Dakota was so excited he spit up a little bit. Stay classy, buddy.

Due to space constrictions and the small class size, we wound up right beside Dakota’s new best Berner friend. Great.

Finally the training begun. We were starting with something simple – Sit. Easy enough, right? Not for Dakota, not today – and shockingly, NOT because of the distraction of the dogs. What we quickly realized is that the trainer standing before us assumed that we had taught Dakota all the basic commands using the same hand gestures and techniques as she uses. Spoiler alert: we taught him COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WAYS TO DO EVERY SINGLE COMMAND.

So by now the alarm is going off in my head: Abort mission. There will not end well. Escape while you can. Go, go, go!

But damnit I paid for these classes and god help me if we’re not going to stick this thing out.

So now I’m on high alert. Not only do I have to focus on my pup, I have to watch the trainers every move because I have to learn all these hand gestures, too. And I gotta tell ya, when you’re not used to vertically moving your left hand in front of your pup to make him sit, and then horizontally waving it to make him stay, and then going from ceiling to floor with your right hand to make him lay down, and waving your right hand towards you to make him come – and standing on his leash when you want people to approach him, and oh good god the list just goes on. Every single command gesture was new to both me, and poor Dakota, who I swear was trying his darn best to impress that younger Berner!

Eventually we moved on from these “simple” commands to a “simple” walk in a circle. I felt better about this one; hell, I walk Dakota every day, and he’s a gem! And perhaps the lesson would have been marginally better if the floor we were walking in a circle on wasn’t seemingly a freshly waxed bowling lane – seriously woman WHAT IS ON THIS FLOOR?! I had zero traction. Zero. Mind you, I was wearing Steve Madden boots that are definitely more fashionable than functional but STILL, come ON. I could’ve skated on that thing.

“He’s too strong for you guys,” the trainer says. “We are usually fine but I keep slipping on your floor,” I half mumble in the .2 seconds of interaction we actually have with the trainer as Dakota pulls me on by. (I’ll add, I am wholly aware that Dakota is a mammoth and at some point he will be way stronger than me. I mean hell he was bred to pull wagons and rescue people out of avalanches, I’m not so naive to realize what I’ve gotten myself into here, that’s why we joined the class.)

“He has to sit to your left.” “Trying, but he always sits in front.”

“Wave the treat in front of him, he obviously can’t see behind you” “Pretty sure he knows it’s there since he keeps trying to sneak it out of my hand but okay”

“Say sit.” “He’s already sitting” *pause* “…..Dakota sit….”

“Do the hand motion!” “I don’t remember what it is”

These are all snippets of my very brief interactions with the trainer, who in all honestly made me feel like I was doing a terrible job through the hour all in a delightful condescending tone. It was really embarrassing and aggravating and I, unfortunately, was quickly losing enthusiasm. I stopped at one point just to ask Matt what time it was, to which he solemnly replied, “we’re only halfway.”

He’s a smart dog, I swear he is. But trying to essentially retrain your pup all the commands you’ve spent the last 5 months working on in such a setting is a remarkable challenge. I don’t know why they wouldn’t have had some sort of disclaimer or information about the TYPE of commands and gestures we would have to know prior to being there – and now, they already have our money, so what are we to do?

By the end of it all, all I wanted was to sit on my couch with my big dopey puppy and have a beer with my very patient and supportive fiance who stood by me during this terrible ordeal and handed me treat after treat as we tried our hardest to figure all of these “new” commands.

On the way out, our trainer told us to “Practice – a lot. It’s going to get harder”.

We have 4 weeks to go.

#PrayForDakota

Dakota Round-Up | Welcome To Puppy Training was originally published on thisisjaimee