#on the other hand finding new ones would have wakened him a lot more

[hello-delicious-tea]

BabyTea has this stupid hand me down potty that, when he is peeing, there is an exact wrong angle at which he can shoot pee where it comes right out the front between the seat and the base. WHO DESIGNED THIS THING???

So his dinosaur sleeper pants got pee on them, which was a CRISIS, and he spent the remaining FOUR HOURS of the night drifting off, having his butt get cold and fussing, drifting off with snuggles after which I sneakily covered him with blanket, kicking it off because blankets are anathema, and then waking up and fussing because his butt was cold. He’s doing fairly well this morning, having never quite wakened fully again, but I am so tired.

In retrospect I could have solved this with different pajama pants. It was dark, he would not have known they didn’t have dinosaurs on them!

[sunboki]

— HELLION INN. a Stray Kids fiction

🌖 : Lee Minho x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. dystopian! au, enemies to lovers, monster! au, apocalypse! au, “we have to get along to survive” au, angst, high stakes

WORD COUNT. 10k ⭑ 50min read

WARNINGS. gory descriptions, cursing, descriptive violence, implied intercourse, death, a dubcon kiss, talk of vomit/vomiting, lots of mentions of death, one mention of k*lling oneself, parasites, murder, inclusion of fire, injury, usage of guns, injury, knives, reader and minho are “hunted”, mature themes

AUG'S NOTES. it’s finished! i wanted to cry (out of happiness!!) closing the last part :) i truly love this piece, and, though it certainly isn’t all too lovey dovey compared to alternative fics of mine, i was so incredibly fortunate to be able to write for themes i adore! i hope my enthusiasm was able to be conveyed in the subject of monsters/apocalyptic au’s!! please enjoy<3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Receiving an ominous letter in the mail, a monster invades Seoul minutes later, carrying an uncanny sense of smell despite its blindness. Countless people have been slaughtered already, and with your letter as the only meager explanation to this madness, you find your feet leading towards the one place it said was safe: Hellion Inn.

or alternatively :

Minho won’t let you die. Not if it means letting this Monster get him or hell’s dawning itself. You’re going to survive. Together.

Run, something is coming. Go to Hellion Inn, you’ll be safe there.

Something? What is something? A terrorist attack? War?

Never had such a letter arrived at your doorstep other than this Tuesday, with the morning sunlight peeking through half-opened blinds casting your pajama-clad frame in its cascades.

And again, you reread and reread, questions raging in a distorted frenzy amidst your once just-wakening mind. 

Little were you aware what would come. What already roamed Seoul’s streets, approaching closer, closer. 

One objective resides in too many possibilities. 

Find Hellion Inn. 

.

.

.

Stuffing the letter in your pocket serves as the most sensible solution while you go over your options. If you didn’t have a clue about what dishes would be cooked, you’d check the ingredients first.

And yet, upon turning on the TV, you find your meal already served. 

On a platter, dripping with blood.

“This just in, an unidentifiable entity is making its way through Seoul in a rampage. The creature is highly dangerous. It appears to lack vision, and speculation has deemed it relies upon its smell to discern other beings. The creature has not been detained at this time. Under no circumstances should citizens leave their residences, and in the case you’re on the street, please evacuate to the nearest shelter immediately. Further information will be released.”

Your blood runs frigidly cold, enough you swear you could’ve turned to ice.

All of a sudden, war or a terrorist attack doesn’t sound nearly as daunting as before.

A monster. Ruthless, bloodthirsty. 

Monster. 

Instantaneously are news sites everywhere exploding, posting footage, pictures, and accounts of the creature each second. 

More and more and more until-

It all goes dark, your home plunged into a black abyss meagerly sustained by the sun’s rays, phone in hand ultimately powering off. 

Electricity down. Fully.

This isn’t like a usual predicament of a public threat, not something you’re prepared for, nor something anyone was prepared for. There’s no drill for a monster, no tsunami shelter or high rise building to reside upon. 

Was it obliviousness? Or were you all simply sheep to a ravaging wolf?

The latter seemed most convincing.

An exhale. No, a growl is what breaks your train of thought. Like the chuff of a tiger, curdling in its throat. 

Above. 

You can’t even bring yourself to move, can’t bear to breathe in fear you’d give yourself away as a shadow covers that once hopeful sunlight.

No shadow, but a thing. A monster. 

How did it get here so fast? How.. how the hell is this happening?

The sound of tiles shifting on your roof makes your fingers twitch, eyes stuck wide. 

The worlds apex predators turned into the prey. 

Each pound of your heart lies evident in ringing ears, listening to those low, horrendous gurgles, repeating that same chuff before it shifts again.

Again and again, and you’re unmoving.

Leave. Run. Anything. 

Yet, you can’t move a muscle, glued in place.

Until you do, and your legs act before you can process a thing. Grabbing for items, whatever it may be. Mind unable to process in its frantic state.

No. No.

A plea as your hand wraps around the doorknob, beginning down the apartment complex’s stairs in rapid descent, listening to the slow growls of the creature.

Don’t look behind, just go.

A mistake you find yourself making even when a life is on the line.

Your life is on the line.

And when you spare that single glimpse, murky lifeless eyes stare blindly back at you, bulging from its skull as if they never were intended to be there. Skin a hallowed, fleshy tone — ligaments hung awry. 

Disorderly, distasteful. If you look close enough, you swear you could’ve seen a beating heart, watched the oxygen cells rush through a pumping bloodstream. 

Gaping jaws hold copious teeth, ant-like incisors residing on either side of a ceaselessly smiling mouth, the corners of what appears to be lips ascending all the way up to nonexistent ears. 

Four legs, two antennae atop its head. At least two times the size of a human.

Horrific.

Never had such a thing appeared so terrifying.

With the letter clutched in one hand and your powerless phone in another do you run, praying that nonexistent vision truly is nonexistent.

Well, until a car alarm begins to ring, and you feel your stomach climb to your throat simultaneously.

Because it twitches. Not even a glance-sort of reaction. The entirety of whatever neck that monster hones twitches to look at you with a nausea-worthy crack! of its ligaments. Those jaws parted, a flattened nose breathing in.

And then it lurches, and you don’t think you’ve ever ran as fast as you did now.

Far, far. As far as you can go. 

It’s futile listening to gargled cries for help amongst rubble, the reaching of hands for your feet you can’t even spare a moment for as those scraping claws continue their perilous dance after you, scavenging on people as they go. 

So the second an intact person comes into view—a boy, looking about your age (and freakishly calm at that) with fluffy hair and rounded cheeks retaining such youth—you’re racing ahead before you can even think, ramming through those convenience store doors in a flurry of panic and fear.

“Monster— Monster- there’s a monster we have to go-“

“Do you like grilled cheese?” He mumbles, and you wonder if he’s talking to himself or you, no less asking such a question during this downright apocalypse.

“No, no there is—“ A shriek pierces the air in the distance, the clutter of debris alerting the monster’s proximity.

You, in a frantic attempt to redirect his attention, place either hand on his shoulders.

“A monster. There’s a monster out there and if we don’t hide, it’s going to kill us.” 

The boy licks his lips, cocking a contemplative brow before looking toward the freezer section. 

“Freezer?”

At this point the creature might as well be turning the corner, and you don’t need to respond for either of you to go running as fast as your legs will carry you, stuffing yourselves into the biting cold just as the bells above the entrance door ring.

Scariest part is this customer is intelligent enough to open doors.

This customer isn’t human. 

Like slow-motion you hear it. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, the lack of air in such a tight space, the monster’s rumbling.

Your hidden counterpart lodged himself into a freezer opposite to you, eyes squeezed shut the nearer clicking footsteps on tile sounded.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you open them, met with the monster’s face, hundreds of razor-sharp teeth lining its mouth, stretched into that same, chilling smile while it stares at you through the glass.

It can’t see you. It can’t see you. It can’t see you, You internally plead like a mantra, suffocating on the scream rising in your throat.

The loud clanging of a soup can the boy throws has the creature’s disfigured face whipping around, and you wordlessly communicate through mere terrified-eye-contact what either of you are thinking:

Run.

Without conscious you go flying, ramming past discarded groceries and tormented bodies into Seoul’s open roadway, void of any vehicle whatsoever.

Except for one.  

It’s a tow truck, key still lodged into the ignition, window broken with streaks of blood lining the door where a middle-aged man’s body had been dragged out. He rests lopsided below the front tire, abdomen severed in half.

Grotesque. 

“Car- Car!” You cry out, wildly gesturing for him to follow suit while you pry the driver’s door open, the monster’s frustrated growl enough motivation for the stranger to throw himself in as well.

In the nick of time you press down on the pedal, winding the wheel in a quick motion just as the hell-sent smashes itself from the shop, evidently angered.

“I’m Han!” The man occupying the passenger seat shouts, the hole through the windshield causing enormous amounts of wind to soar through the car and synonymously blur your senses.

“What?!” 

“My name is Han! Han Jisung!”

Squinting whilst looking through your mirror at the wickedly approaching Monster, you veer past as many obstacles as possible — most being corpses — as fast as the engine will let you.

“Oh! Uh, I’m Y/N!”

Han nods, grasp clutched onto his seat the more you speed increases, recklessly maneuvering left and right as if dodging a crocodile. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a crocodile, but a blood-thirsty beast wanting nothing more than to behead you. How sweet.

“Do you… Do you know how to drive?” He yells, and you raise your eyebrows, narrowly shifting past a shopping cart.

“If you count Mario-Kart as driving, I’m a pro!”

Han audibly squeaks his fear in response, eyes squeezing shut as if to not stare at the monster’s face nearing the mirror.

The speedometer cries out, vehicle shuddering as you near train tracks just at the edge of the city. 

Hopeful. 

Fleeting hope when the roar of a train’s whistle soars through the air, the look Han gives you doing little to sustain your already thinned sanity.

Perhaps you’ll die getting hit by a train than this monster.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

“We’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make it we’re not gonna make i—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP—-“ You screech, foot slammed as far down on the gas pedal as possible, the rumbling of the train’s engine deafening. 

“HOLY SHITTTT—“ The man screams, mouth ajar as you soar over the tracks, preparing for impact only for a hair of the train’s front barely brushing over the car’s bumper. 

Currently realizing you’re still breathing and not dead, you floor the brake, either of you launching forward in your seats while the endless train keeps the monster at bay on the opposite side. 

Both panting hysterically, you place a hand on your chest, hoping to slow down the terrifyingly fast pace of your heart — close to bursting out of your chest. 

Your passenger, Han Jisung, turns to look at you, eyes wide as saucers, a gradual open-mouthed smile growing upon his flushed, sweat-stricken face.

“That was.. sick.”

The flashlight flickers here and there, found in the tow truck’s trunk along with a med kit currently carried along by Han.

By chance did you end up in what remained of the red-light district, rubble dotting roadways as evidence of the Monster’s previous siege.

Amidst the held supplies, your pocket seems to ache with the weight of the letter, sitting there in its futile warning of what was to come, now arrived.

You hadn’t brought it up to Han yet, a persistent fear of blame lingering in the back of your mind. Was it your fault you didn’t react in time? Disregarded the letter?

No. There’s no time to regret now. Whatever past existed has been annihilated. 

Night is approaching, and with that comes rising unease and a desperate need to find shelter.

Seoul’s red-light district had always been a taboo for Korea’s upper class. A hushed word, quenched beneath harsh scolding and wrinkled noses at the mere mention.

As if their own well-off sons don’t get driven there on a daily basis, ignorant to their own affiliation as if it’s a genetically determined trait.

Quite funny how none of that matters now. Not when it’s the end of the world, that is.

Every (once) building looks the same. Rubble. Litter lines the roads, cars strewn awry, wrecked into buildings, run over people. 

A pattern lies in everything. 

This pattern consists of fear. 

Struck on faces, painted carelessly along torn apart surfaces and walls, splattering the cities ruby red.

Incessantly, you can’t help but fear. A natural biological response when in the presence of actual or perceived danger, inflicting sharp wounds throughout your body, mind on an endless neurological high of adrenaline-fueled paranoia. 

How could someone not be paranoid when they were being hunted?

“In here.”

Han’s voice pulls you out of your head, turning where he points to a brick building, multicolored beach towel draped over a window torn to shreds, soil from plants staining the cracks of tiles, floor a mixture of blood and bacteria. 

“It’s abandoned,” He notes, prying the creaking door open. 

Abandoned isn’t the word for it. The inhabitants left as most people did upon hearing the news of invasion, although they didn’t get far, you’re plenty aware of that. 

What a shame. Thinking they could escape, in their wake, slaughtered ruthlessly. 

Instead of abandoned, call it evacuated, barren.  

Inside, a radio runs in a constant string of white noise, the addition of broken air conditioning the only source of apparent life. Haunting, flickering lights cast the few rooms in an eerie, ghoulish green like that of a basement.

“I’ve been here before. There should be a mart nearby.”  

Allowing his remark to sink in, you pause, a slight grin drawing upon your lips. 

“You’ve been here before, in the red-light district?” 

Phrase lingering amusedly, he stops as well, shifting on his heel to grace you with a similar smile.

“What? Not everyone can stand high and mighty in this society. Plus, there’s no need to pretend anymore when death is so close by.”

Your smile drops, and you suck on the skin of your cheek, a loud breath through your nose enough to continue the descent.

Perhaps you should change the abandoned description. 

Just then, from the corner of your eye do you see a figure emerge, the glinting edge of a kitchen knife barely brushing your shoulder blade before you dodge to your left, the attacker colliding with an ironing board.

Mere seconds later the figure rises to their feet, identified as female, adorning lanky limbs and skin as pale and zombified as the surrounding room. Her lips are cracked and purple, eyes nearly black, blanketed with equally raven hair reaching the floor in length.

The girl looks like a creature, barely alive with the lack of coordination in her loose stabs, alienated stare vividly murderous. 

Only by narrowly pummeling into the wall do you manage to immobilize her, Jisung’s efforts stalled.

Liquid obsidian blinks back up at you from where you’ve caged her to the floor, her nostrils flaring in hasty breaths, your own panting ringing in your ears.

“Look kid- I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? Now if you calm down and let me—“  

A third of the steak knife puncturing the side of your thigh veers your head back, choked scream jostling your nerves tenfold. Bubbling blood slips from the wound, trickling warmth dizzying you into a foggy spell.

It’s not until a low bang! sounds that her arm, raised for another strike, falls limp to the floor, looking behind you to find Jisung holding a pistol, silencer attached to the muzzle, aimed directly at the girl below you. 

Immediately, before you can release the unheralded screech compressing your lungs, Han hoists you up by your elbows, the jarring movement beckoning a squealed sob you bite your tongue containing.

Snatching clothing from a closet behind the door, the man rips the fabric using his teeth, returning to your slumped frame.

Reminding you to hold your breath, he aligns the makeshift bandage prior to tying it, your reaction becoming quieted as your eyes roll back.

And the world falls into a dark abyss. 

By the time your lashes flutter open again, searing light invades your vision, the urge to open your eyes aiding a roaring headache.

Although, it appears you’re still in the same room, alternatively relocated to a futon on the floor, leg propped up using folded pillowcases and books. 

“You’re up.”

Han enters the room, two metal cans of mashed spam and rice held in either hand, one of which he gives to you. 

“You were knocked out cold,” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, uncharacteristic to the fact he just shot someone.

“The shirt should staunch the bleeding. Eat.”

Staring down at your meal, you glance up, stomach churning in an unsightly manner merely considering food.

But you eat anyway, gulping the bites down despite the nausea.

“And the girl?” 

Han takes a bite, scraping every last grain from the noisy tin without so much as a shiver.

“I took care of it.”

It’s your turn to laugh, confusedly surveying the teenage-boy-looking friend of yours.

“What are you? A hitman?”

He clicks his tongue, eyes thoughtfully flickering to the ceiling. 

“I’m.. somebody who really wants to survive.”

All you do is return his tight-lipped expression.

Yet, truly accounting for your introduction, there’s a whole lot you don’t know about him. His past, his goals. What his life was like before. 

He comes off as cheery and good-natured, disposition claiming he wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You’ve come to realize that isn’t the reality whatsoever. Because Han Jisung is exactly what Han Jisung said he was.

Somebody who really wants to survive. 

You can relate to that.

“So.. Random note, random warning, no location?” 

“Pretty much.” 

Seated beside you, Han surveys the letter, reading over the contents a few times before folding it back up and handing it to you. He’s redressed your wound, utilizing the medical kit’s antiseptic and gauze to wrap the skin.

“Hellion Inn,” Han repeats softly, brows knitted. “Never heard of it.”

You shrug once more from your place on the ground, leg still propped while he squats to your left.

“If anything, it’s likely it was destroyed if it’s an actual Inn,” He mumbles, tapping a puffy bottom lip with his index, earning your half nod before you pause.

“We can still try it though? We can find a stick or somethin’, I’ll use it as a crutch.” 

This time, it’s his turn to nod — rising up with a somewhat-assuring: “I’ll be right back” before leaving the room, returning after a few moments with a table leg, nearly comical in the proud manner he lifts the wood, jagged edges evidence of his severing with a knife. 

After copious laughter do you glance at him, brow cocked. “This is really all you’ve got?”

Asking from your place beside him, you brace more weight onto the makeshift crutch, granting Han a side-long glance.

“If I had more I’d use it,” He huffs, watching you hobble slightly but remaining upright with worried brows, hands poised to stabilize your steadying adjustment.

That’s most important, you deemed, no matter how puny. A drag to the team means death; you won’t be that drag.

Tomorrow morning you’ll head out. Find somewhere else to occupy whilst searching for Hellion Inn.

The one remaining routine amidst the apocalypse is time, and as the sun cracks above a horizon once able to be admired and not envied, you’re helped to your feet, gathering bags slung over each other's backs. Additional clothes, torn tablecloths. Anything of even insufficient use.

You don’t think these streets had been this quiet since your grandparent’s time, with bustling citizens and raging business overtaking wherever you look. Now, it might as well be a ghost-town. No more cries for help, no more groans and moans in agony.

And yet, it’s almost unsettling as it is reassuring. Suffering has ceased. Cries for help drawn to a close. 

Peace within death.

Trekking for only about a mile feels tumultuous, the ache already coiling in your bones like snakes seen slithering through rubble, waiting for rats to swarm decomposing carcasses in search of easy victims.

Seoul has become a jungle, eat or be eaten. It’s only a matter of time, a split-second ignorance, that can have you eaten. Perhaps by the true Monster, perhaps by your own kind.

The sight of broken columns and french doors parted in what looks to be a hotel in front of you redirects your focus, granting Han a hum of acknowledgment. His hand reaching for the pistol in a fashioned holster, yours coming to the kitchen knife held in your bag.

Wary, but slow steps paired with your hobbled ones make for the small bout of stairs, buzzing of flies caught in flurries littering goosebumps along your arms.

Something about this place is abnormal. That much is known. And if this is the so-called “Hellion Inn” (or what remains of it), your hope for sanctuary plummets in tandem with the temperature upon stepping in. 

Cold. That dead, stale kind of cold, warmth from the heart void, no longer beating.

Matchstick providing barely enough light, you carefully pry open the squeaking doors in the second doorway, blade wielded close to your being. The putrid odor of decay perplexes your gag reflexes, allowing Han to take the lead in his observing endeavor. 

Abruptly, your foot smushes against something below, and when you look down only to be met with a lifeless hand there, bulging, horror-stricken eyes staring back up at you, you hurriedly bite your lip to conceal the bubbling scream clawing from your throat, frothing like a brewing cauldron. 

Han can only grimace. 

It was here. You’re not sure when, but these wounds — these corpses mercilessly ripped apart — aren’t the doing of humans.

A bone chilling thought surfaces in your mind.

What if the monster is still here?

Your traveling companion spins around on his heel, hands placed on his hips. Honeyed irises momentarily flit between your paled frame to the obvious terror staining your features, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey, I know it’s scary, but the monster’s likely gone by now, and if we can find someone or a sign that’ll redirect us then maybe…”

His words trail off, suddenly all too familiar with the sound of chortled breathing ragged in his ears. Exhales stenching of rotted flesh, the scraping of sharpened claws on the floor.

And how you’re not staring at him, but above him. 

Your palms slowly reach up to cover your mouth, taking the tiniest step back manageable.

“..It’s right behind me, isn’t it?”

Yet, before the Monster can swipe a clawed hand and hack off a limb, deja vu strikes in the form of another gunshot, not silenced, booming,

It soars right past your shoulder with pinpoint precision to land within the Monster’s side, collecting a shriek in return. The beast flails wildly as Han races from its clutches towards the unknown savior of his.

Fluffy hair, a torn, mud-stained jean jacket over his shoulders, white undershirt equally unkempt. The four of you survey the monster’s descent deeper into the hotel, not appearing to execute anymore attack attempts.

For now.

No less, you’re helped outside in your wobbly state, the shot-gun boy leading, another seeming to take up the rear behind you and Han. His companion, maybe. Just as you and Han are.

Sharper features oppose the shotgun-carrying boy’s downturned eyes with inquisitive, apprehensive ones. Lighter hair, jeans bagging by his shoes, white tee’s once graphic design smudged, unrecognizable. His own weapon lies in spiked boxing gloves, nails seemingly ruptured through the cushioned layers.

And when his eyes meet yours, you feel fire in your veins. Blazing, warming you from your toes to your fingertips.

“You guys alright?”

Shot-gun boy, introduced as Kim Seungmin, speaks first, spinning on his heel to regard either of you. Though, it’s hard for your mind to stay attentive, the feeling of Seungmin’s companions’ eyes incessantly boring into your back causing a wary twitch of your fingers. 

“Lee Minho.”

His voice breaks you from that apprehensive spell, that watchful gaze of his surveying both you and Han with an unimpressed exhale.

“Don’t slow us down,” He scowls, shouldering past Han, lips drawn into a tight line. He heads for their own vehicle, a worn down truck narrowly resting in better condition than your earlier tow truck by the tracks.

Real friendly.

Seungmin, a tad bit more benign, gestures with a curt nod to the vehicle, ushering your injury-wielding self to sit in the passenger seat with Minho as driver, Seungmin and Han taking the truck’s bed.

Just then does the Monster make its return, bursting from the hotel in a seemingly rejuvenated spirit from before, gaping jaws aching to be filled.

You could only hope your flesh wouldn’t be the filler.

“This is why I hate introductions,” Minho, already slamming his foot onto the pedal, grumbles, not granting a response upon tires burning rubber over dusty roads as you speed off – a replay of your ride with Han on loop each time you see the Monster in your mirror.

Approaching closer, closer again.

It seems food becoming involved is a common theme, jarred when the truck swerves in front of a supermarket. Seungmin shouts from the back as he and Han race ahead, beckoning you two to follow them, your steps lightly hobbled with feeble help of the makeshift crutch.

“The hell do I have to be on babysitting duty for?” Minho, lifting your arm over his shoulder, grovels, and you fight the urge to whack him with your crutch, making through the desolate supermarket. 

Weapons in clutch, it grows taxing trying not to grimace hearing clattering glass, the mental picture of those bulging eyes doing little for your already queasy stomach.

“It’ll hear us!” 

With your horrible luck intact, this already dislikable stranger ends up being the same soul you're lodged into a bathroom stall with.

Minho hisses, furrow of his brows causing his face to scrunch with distaste, the loud clatter of soup cans and chip bags alike resounding from outside in the thick of the Monster’s carnage.

“No, it’ll hear you. More people means more death, and lucky for you, I’ll be off your hands in no time.” Now it’s your turn to retort, the man lacking of his usual boxing gloves, strap of Seungmin’s shotgun over a shoulder instead.

Wriggling yourself from his grasp, you hesitantly slide the notch to the door, movement only stopped by Minho’s lingering hand grabbing your sleeve. 

“And what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m repaying a favor.”

Weighing your ability to walk well, you snag the shotgun from his shoulder, granting the man a wink and a: “Thanks for the shotgun”, before slipping from the stall, leaving his starstruck figure in tow.

Ignoring the biting ache in your thigh thanks to a discarded crutch, you savor cool metal beneath your fingertips, watching the blur of the other two boys racing past the Monster’s attempts of attack. 

“Hey! Ugly fucker, over here!” You shout, chilled seeing blind eyes rip your way.

Cocking the gun, your eyes narrow, focusing the sight on its head and–

Bang!

Echoing around the supermarket does a copper bullet gnash into thin skin, puncturing straight through, shell casing crinkling onto the floor below in tandem with a low groan of the creature.

Minho bursts from the bathroom moments later, still sporting a starstruck visage. Han and Seungmin go thundering right past back to the truck, the wild goose chase persisting. 

What wasn't persistent was Minho’s arms wrapping around your back, hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of rice whilst chasing right after his counterparts.

As much as you’d like to thank him, your thigh still hurts like hell.

“Yah! That- hurts- asshole!” Shrieked between his hurried footsteps, you smack his shoulder blade defiantly.

Hopefully that serves as a thank you.

However, escaping is far from reach, and feeling presumably safe is equally residing far from grasp when, after finally being able to inhale without a stutter to your lung halfway down the road, the sharp snap of a tire blows.

And the truck flips over.

It was one thing maneuvering from the flipped car, shards of glass embedded in your skin beckoning pinpricks of blood, and another continuing on foot to wherever the two acquaintances planned to lead to.

The largest of things, however, was learning the name of this apparent destination.

Hellion Inn.

With Seungmin sustaining a minor head injury, Han luckily unharmed, and an also unharmed Minho reluctant to aid in being your temporary crutch, you’re given plenty of time for interrogation along the way — wondering just who the hell was responsible for the letter. 

As far as their replies go, not a soul knows.

And at this rate, you can’t bring yourself to care about pestering for answers anymore, not with Minho’s aggravating complaining and equally as irritating, stupidly good-looking side profile.

So, the torturous walk to this supposed ‘Inn’ prevails, which, turns out not to be an Inn at all. Instead, it’s this metal, bus looking contraption, like a trailer.

Silver of the exterior tarnished, it hides within a surrounding forest entryway, vines curling around door fixtures as if with time, what remained would be swallowed by the greenery.

From the bus two more men exit, and you can’t help but wonder if this so-called Hellion Inn has just as many residents as an actual Inn.

Christopher Bahng and Seo Changbin introduce themselves hastily, quick to rush back into the bus and retrieve a medical kit. After enduring both the painful removal of glass, your reopened wound stitched, and Chris’s heart wrenching smile of assurance (followed by a pat to your kneecap after, ensuring an imminent heart attack on your part), you’re finally invited inside, introduced to the others.

Three more. 

It’s a clown car. Definitely. 

Yang Jeongin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix. Boys- no, men, with features you’d like to deem frustratingly attractive. 

Maybe photoshoot, not a clown car.

No less, the seven interact with ease, Han intermingling as if he’d been by their side for eternity. A bonfire, expertly lit behind the bus hidden amongst foliage to conceal smoke, provides warmth in the night.

Cold, just as it’s always been. Even more so with autumn’s presence.

Yet, you find your eyes falling right back to him.

Minho.

Man of fire, whose gaze on yours feels like your ribs cracking apart, as if his fingers bend your windpipe every which way, rendering no air into your lungs. He is fire, licking at your skin in the most deplorable of ways.

And you crave it.

If he were Hades, you’d eat the pomegranate seeds like a fool just to feel his eyes on you again and again.

Selfish.

When he looks at you, you feel selfish. Perhaps it’s the stakes, perhaps your heart has grown too weak, beat too fast it falls for any and all. Adrenaline-induced love.

You aren’t naive like Persephone, aren’t blindsided by curiosity.

That latter is a lie. Especially when you shift on the log, purposefully scooting closer to catch bits and pieces of his conversation with Jeongin, listen to the perfect pitch of his voice, aided by the crackling of flames before you.

You wonder if touching him would rival those white-hot flames. Scalding your fingers till you grew numb. 

You’d take that bet.

Fluffy fabric placed over your shoulders makes you flinch in place, sympathetic eyes of chocolate meeting yours.

Honeyed. Chris.

“It’s cold, stay warm,” He ushers, crouching to take a seat on your left.

Then do you register his actions. A blanket, the material a survivor of water’s toil and plenty of stains. But it’s warm, durable, and most importantly, sweet. Chris is sweet, you decide, a bit like this warm blanket.

Your nod of thanks doesn’t feel like it even slightly compensates for his kindness, though, for now, it’s enough.

Tomorrow, Chris, Changbin, Minho, and Jeongin will relocate the flipped truck. Haul it back, fix it up again. That’s what your sensible mind discerns, seemingly adopted into the group like any other as sleeping arrangements in the bus are modified for both you and Han.

Strays, huh.

A flickering gas lamp keeps your gaze glued to the ceiling where you lie, watching shadows twirl like a strange ballet along the walls. Near the front of the bus does Chris sleep, Changbin glued to his side, Felix tucked beneath his arm.

It brings a smile to your lips, watching them. Even Seungmin, with his more boundary-oriented persona, close to the others, his hand brushing against Hyunjin’s shoulder, Jeongin’s head. 

Human beings, after all. Even when it all falls apart. And maybe, maybe in monsters as well, there is human. The need to be close, to feel skin on skin. 

Counting heads, you find one missing.

“You should be sleeping.”

Minho flicks a lighter on and off, waiting to relight the gas lamp. He squats down in front of you, jeans stretched over muscular thighs.

Your brow furrows, wondering if he’d been here this whole time amidst your ignorance.

“Are you scared?”

His words dull your ability to reply, retort something smart. But, the tone keeps your mouth shut. Cool and calm, like when he spoke to Jeongin by the fire. Not taunting, nor instigating.

“No.”

The words are a lie, unveiled in the crease of a dirt-stricken face, chapped lips pulled taut.

His pinky finding yours verifies that fire theory. From the tips of your toes to the very top of your scalp you feel it. 

Scorching. Hot.

Your skin seems to melt from your bones, but only you can see it.

There are lots of questions to ask. Wondering, hope. Why?

But he beats you to it. It seems you’ll have to get used to that characteristic.

“Go to sleep. Nothing can get you here.”

A lie, you know it well. Any second that monster can stumble here. Smell you, turn the perfect corner to find the bus, sheen shimmering beneath a full moon. Ravage each and every one of you beneath claws and blood.

But the letter, no, Minho says you’ll be safe here. That Hellion Inn will be your safe haven. 

Tonight, you choose to believe that, falling asleep with his pinky twined with yours, his back to one of the side booths, focus trained on your features.

Safe.

“Hnn..” 

Insistent poking to your cheek abducts you from your dream, bleary eyes straining to open. Jeongin sits up, bracing himself with his hands, youthful smile stretched over his face watching you. Meanwhile, the hellspawn guilty, Hyunjin, can’t help but laugh cheerily.

“Wah— I wish I had a camera!” Ebony strands peek from beneath a white ball cap, his voice carries from the bus for Felix’s head to peek in, echoing Hyunjin’s laugh with his deeper baritone.

Similar to Chris are you met with Felix’s kindness, his lithe form slipping past the bus doors to gently smooth back your bed hair, utilizing a hair tie on his wrist to bind the unruly strands before patting your head.

It’s easy to ache for anyone’s touch, you discover.

In the early morning, the car was retrieved by Minho, Chris, Jeongin, and Changbin, the low chatter of voices outside evidence of their progress restoring the once flipped vehicle.

When you step out, Changbin hands you a tin of steaming soup as meager breakfast you’re quick to thank him for, bringing the spoon to your lips whilst lingering near the car, watching them flit about, handing each other tools and screws alike like busied ants.

“You just gonna stand there or help out? Last time I checked you weren’t worried about appearances.”

Instantaneously, Minho becomes his normal, annoying self with each snidely sarcastic remark, cocked brows urging you to retaliate.

Unfortunately, your barely conscious mind can’t formulate something smart back, so you resort to serving as the tool-supplier, handing different ones here and there from a stool near where the Man of Fire works on the popped wheel.

His new title, apparently.

Man of Fire.

“Wrench.”

“Did you just call me a wench?” You scoff, eyes wide with shock at the murmured comment. 

Perhaps you were blindsided after all by his nice face.

“Wrench.”

Or not.

Begrudgingly, you extend the wrench, scowl embedded in your expression he can’t help but crack a bemused grin at.

Attaching the wrench to a bolt to crank does his vein-littered forearms flex, and your throat feels unnaturally dry, forcing yourself to focus on something else in order to school an unaffected facade.

Nevertheless, by night, he’s.. different. Lacking cockiness, harshness.

Unspoken things, like when you’re stirred from sleep, dazed gaze settling on Minho across the bus, his fingers tenderly patting Changbin’s head when he stirs awake. They speak in hushed whispers alternative to Changbin’s boisterous presence. 

And sometimes, amidst the other seven, you’re the one beneath his comforting hand. Those times nightmares plague your sleep, his careful hands tracing your knuckles, slow circles over your skin urging you back into the solace of sleep.

To you he doesn’t talk, just hums a low melody, wipes unshed tears from your waterline. Seeing his face makes you want to cry more, so you can be scooped into his hug.

Though, you doubt you’d ever let go, so you never allow yourself more tears. Maybe that’s for the better.

Because while you’re so selfishly enamored as night falls and he becomes that doting figurine bathed in moonlight, Minho is endlessly selfless. Wordless, but selfless.

The guardian of the night, sustaining a semblance of care and safety that silently engulfs the bus each time a star twinkles within the sky.

Then again, risks are always present. Missions out for food, stashing of possessions in case of invasion.

Windows of the bus covered, the group convenes that evening, leant over a book on the floor, huddled with knees held close to chests. Sharing things of value, adding more.

An old journal, spine tattered and moth-eaten. Inside looks to hold the secrets of the world, hidden within yellowed pages, hurried writing of smudged ink.

All of it, from the Monster’s mannerisms, exterior, presumed weaknesses. Written, documented. How such information was gathered is beyond you. Intricate, detailed.

Study after study, page after page. 

In two days, you’re arranged to head out with Chris for a medical restock. The pharmacy isn’t too far from the Inn, and it’ll only be a few hours of collecting before returning back.

The morning of, Seungmin hands you his shotgun, and Chris takes Minho’s—the Man of Fires’—nail-wielding boxing gloves. Two backpacks, one goal.

Fortunately, the journey isn’t too grueling, filled with quiet conversation and query till barely divisible characters reading ‘PHARMACY’ come into view, slipping into the hollowed, whitened confines of a once thriving business.

Eerie, with medication strung awry, unknown blood splattered along a wall behind the register.

It’s almost funny how the money there goes untouched. What use is it now?

Captured within your peripheral does a door become of topic, shielded behind a hanging towel in the far corner of the pharmacy that you slowly pad over to inspect, fingers tentative in nudging to the side. 

Though, it’s the sudden flick of lights, electricity, that makes you gasp, flashlight of little necessity as you part double doors.

The sight makes your heart stop.

Because beneath the disguise of a pharmacy rests a drug-den, a laboratory, first and foremost.

“Uh.. Does Seungmin have this in his journal..?” 

Building long since redlined by the look of it, Chris is quick to join your side, muttering an awestruck: “Holy shit” you would’ve laughed at if it weren’t for your combined surprise. 

Though, he places an arm in front of you as your foot moves to step inside, instead advising the muzzle of your shotgun to lead you, clearing the area before feasting on this monstrosity.

Countless test tubes litter every surface in sight, but it isn’t mixtures, isn’t a combo of products.

It’s insects, piled with them.

Many deformed in gruesome ways, trapped inside the tubes. Chris, hastily pulling an old camera from his bag, snaps photos, the shutter’s sound echoing around the room.

Yet, you can’t help but notice a near uncanny resemblance.

Incisors, bulging eyes, like the Monster.

No, it wouldn’t be. A mega ant? No, that thing is far from solely ant with its hulking size.

“Don’t you think this is just.. odd? I mean, they’re already up to their noses in cash from the drugs, I’m sure, so why the.. ants?” 

Chris exhales slowly through his nose, shaking his head.

“My guess is as good as yours. And calling it a ‘guilty pleasure’ just makes me nauseous, I mean look at them, they’re.. infected.”

Fungal growth is clear as day, that’s agreed. The true question rests in reason.

Just what were they doing here?

The longer you linger, the more unsettling it becomes.

Because somehow, your gut can’t shake that resemblance to the Monster.

Your walk back to the bus is quiet, shrouded in nerves and a wanting for familiarity. Safe to say you both sigh in relief seeing that silvery, unmoving vehicle.

It’s almost comical how the uneasiness spreads, like whatever fungus altered the insects, contorting them in disfigured shapes, features. Overtaking the nine of you similarly.

Merely thinking about it gives you chills, Chris’s description, as you’re coddled into the bus with the others to explain, doing little for the vomit tempting your throat.

Effortlessly, your same silence washes over the others, paled as they acknowledge the identical resemblance you’d conjured before.

“You don’t think..” You’re feeble in attempting to disprove the suspicions, trembling of your fingers stilled only when Minho’s index traces your wrist. 

Though, it isn’t night, and the look he grants you makes you wish for his touch even more.

Assurance, worn within the grooves of his face, repetitive stroke of his fingertip over a hammering pulse.

“I do think, show me the picture again.” Seungmin beckons, hurriedly flipping through his own notebook as he narrows his eyes on the photo Chris shows. 

Seungmin, you learned, used to be an entomology major in Seoul’s most prestigious university. Studious, with a bright future nearing.

Interesting how easy those aspirations can crumble apart within a day, within seconds.

But there’s no purpose in reminiscing, is there?

Now resorting to gathered notes of the past, he finally stops at a page, finger glued to the scribbled notes. His other hand reaches to the photo, pointing to a tiny label taped to a test tube halfway outside the frame, writing messy and uneven, barely legible against the blur of the camera.

Ophiocordyceps unilateralism, or, in easier terms, zombie-ant fungus. 

Thanks to Seungmin’s insight, his knowledge dictates the occurrence as “a fungus capable of infecting the mind of its host while simultaneously altering its body.”

So, in a horror-movie-esque, freakish way, a parasite. 

Jeongin pipes up, and you swear at least four of you flinch at the sudden sound of a voice against leaden silence.

“But the Monster’s too big to be an ant, right? How could the—“ 

“What if it wasn’t an ant, but another animal? A bigger animal. Some scientific breakthrough where the host was able to be taken over, not by an ant, but by something bigger.” 

The entirety remains consumed in a stillness, taking in the revelation they’ve just come to. 

Fear is almost palpable. Nearly able to be tasted, smelt. 

Han’s leg bounces anxiously, dirty fingernails reaching to claw at his hair, tearing at his scalp with visible shuddering Chris’s warm palm hopes to ease, placed on his shoulder.

“We’re being hunted by a parasite.” He croaks hoarsely in disbelief, tone pathetically cracking in terror. 

A parasite, yes. This, however, is different. 

The monster lurking through Seoul was planned, arranged accordingly under the guise of law and human greed for motive unknown.

A lone pharmacy, meant to cater to human health, now manufacturerers of human destruction.

This parasite is man-made. 

Your spirit could’ve been staunched easily, dampened by the weight of discovery. Grown unwilling to fight anymore, unwilling to try surviving.

Who are we if not going for each other's throats? Why must someone’s greed become everyone else’s problem?

Something so selfish, so horrid it grew out of control, festering like a seed of hatred in one’s heart till spiky leaves and branches poured from their lungs and suffocated them.

For a moment do you entertain the doubts, the scornful attitude over the boiled egg in hand. An early breakfast the day after the realization, with the nine of you seated along the bus’s roof, legs swinging off the side while watching the sunrise. 

You feel like the only people in the world. 

And a bit longer seeing shades of orange and crisp blue bleed across the sky does it feel like it’s all worth living for once again.

So instead, you adapt.

Jotting down more details about the fungus, figuring out ways to combat it. Continual stocking of food, the usual.

Fixing things, keeping up with communication. Laughter and smiling, momentary glances to that Man-of-Fire making you clam up, just like before.

At least that was predictable. 

A continual gas lamp, those same quiet visits of his within the night. And, more often than not, you’d find Minho’s pinkie linking with yours while he slept, without a nightmare or sleepless night as explanation. 

In the mornings, you’d pretend like it never happened. Go back to cat and mouse, square one.

Hold my hand, but keep quiet. 

I don’t want you to leave.

Plenty of things echo through your mind as dawn arises, when your lids twitch and disoriented eyes flutter open to find him beside you, peacefully asleep.

Most days, he’s gone by dawn, somewhere across the bus sleeping, leaving your groggy mind to configure his touch as a mere dream.

No matter the awe, your body betrays such an occasion, and you fall right back to sleep again hoping he could read your mind, keep that contact beneath the blanket.

Unbeknownst to you, the moment your eyes close, his eyes open.

But you’re already asleep when a gentle index traces your cheek, his lips parting with a slow breath. 

“Pretty,” Is whispered, failing to echo around the bus in its hushed volume, a pinch of normality within the chirping of birds, the breach of an emerging day peering over sparse clouds.

“Hm?” 

He wasn’t anticipating your response, breath catching in his throat.

“Hi Minho,” You murmur gently, greeting his surprised disposition as your lips wind into a tiny smile. 

Involuntary. Lips quirking upwards the longer you hold eye-contact.

And surprisingly, Minho cracks a smile too.

It’s feeble, barely divisible apart from the twitch of his lips. Your thumb traces the crinkle, too sleepy to speak, too comfortable to act. 

“Hi there.”

His hand returns your touch, finding your cheek to rest on, savoring the feeling of your skin on his, his on yours.

Stay here, don’t go.

I don’t want to be left alone again.

His brisk glance at your lips has your nerves buzzing beneath such a gaze.

Knowing, obliging.

Obliging as his head tips, as yours complies. Capable of fitting like the perfect puzzle as—

Seungmin mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, and it’s all a dream once more how Minho slips from your hands as if he was never there in the first place.

Three and a half months at Hellion Inn passes in a flash. Research on combatants to the zombie-ant fungus prevalent, plenty of days spent crowded in the bus, throwing around possibilities and idyll conversation. 

Monster sightings have become sparse, with the vast majority of reports informing of its scavenging of the city’s copious bodies.

A sense of relief until it runs out of flesh and craves more, which is where your apocalypse began all over.

Starting with that same, chillingly bellowed chuff at least half a mile out from Hellion Inn.

You don’t think you’d ever seen the eight of them move so quickly. Gas lamp extinguished, weapons cocked and loaded with ammunition ready to fire. Minho’s studded boxing gloves, Seungmin’s shotgun, Chris’s dual pistols. Plentiful traps arranged about the bus, ones you never anticipated having to utilize up till tonight.

How foolish you were.

However, the bus’s roof isn’t caved in by a claw, the nine of you intact for the remainder of the restless night, void of any more sound from the Monster. 

Then again, the torment is far from yielding, with those same, restless nights becoming avidly frequent, Minho’s soothing capabilities tested as a nightmare per week triples in number.

In those times, you find comfort in each other, comfort in bodies snuggled together, in shared pain and happiness. In as much comfort support allows in the thick of a never-ending hailstorm. 

As for you, you find that longing has folded itself into squares of eighteen from a once meager eight. Folded over and over that, the greater the paper grows with each parted fold, the greater that longing burns. 

Burns, like the smoke billowing from a fire outside.

Location of the slow-to-set sun leads you to believe it’s around 3pm, your figure slumped to the floor of the bus.

Though, the missing factor rests in a lack of eight others who currently occupy the fire outside for dinner.

Yesterday, you and Jeongin took on a water restock, roaming about what seemed to be innumerable miles to repeat the walk with heavy packs of water all the way back, currently the cause of your exhaustion as you sleep into the evening the day after.

If only the sleep was peaceful, refreshing.

It’s not.

Well, it was. But not for long.

A shower, according to the flickering of your consciousness as you dream. Warm water droplets pattering on the tile floor underfoot, cleansing grime from your skin. Electricity.

And somehow, a peculiar name leaves your lips upon seeing a shadow behind the shower curtain.

“Minho.”

The sound of your voice is light in this dream. Awaiting, familiar. 

Yet, the pit in your stomach grows, unnaturally.

You find the cause when pulling back the shower curtain, that same, leering smile of the Monster staring back at you as it lunges.

Not Minho.

Your vision goes black, only able to hear the ringing screech of your scream, the heat of the shower now putrid metallic. Blood, replacing the water.

It fills your senses, suffocating you slowly but surely. Overflowing from your nose, your eyes, till you cry crimson.

A sharp twitch of your hand jars you awake.

You’re not bleeding, not in a shower, no Monster in sight. Although, you’d be lying to yourself to say you can just forget it all, act like nothing’s the matter.

More so when you see Minho—recalling his name uttered so sweetly in your dream—standing at the bus’s doorway, seemingly a witness to your horrors as he closes the door behind himself.

Ah. 

No, don’t look at me right now with that doting gaze, as if I’m something to be cared for, something delicate. 

For once I wish you away, so I don’t begin to cry, so my love for you doesn’t become my ruin.

“And it was- it was right in front of me and—“

He sees through you each time, through the toughened exterior, the shake of your head when he asks if you need anything, want to talk about it. 

He came in for an extra blanket, apparently. One long forgotten by now.

Spill your guts, but when it comes to him, you find your heart spilling with it. Words caught in a hyperventilating daze, your hands flail, eyes struck permanently bulging.

At some point, everyone starts to break. No time table to give you an estimate, forewarning.

It just bubbles until bursting.

“I don’t… I don’t want to do this anymore..” Voice a desperate plea, sobs wrack your body numb.  “Why can’t…” You begin, eyes flitting to Minho.

“Why can’t we all just die together?”

Heaved between sharp inhales is your face taken between calloused hands, his brows knitted.

“Cause who’s going to take our place? Who else is alive?” He whispers, kneeled upon the floor, staring at you nonsensically.

“This once, let me be selfish. I won’t let you die. You can’t die because I want you alive. Do you understand?” 

Slow to nod, bleary vision situates upon the man, cursing the dip to your usually strong tone — cracking, weakened.

“Can… Can I just.. forget?” 

His eyes flit to your lips if only for an instant, like that time a month ago, stolen. 

And for a moment, you think he may have just read your mind.

“Minho, please… I want to-“

Ah.

And he kisses you, and then, no, more. More and more, till you’re tangled up in sprawled blankets and sleeping bags. Smoke tainting the air from outside, calves dangling from his shoulders, toes curled. 

Minho makes you forget, forget and forget, leaving you to helplessly utter his name past chapped lips — till another round turns into what feels to be a lifetime. 

Your palms pressing to his jaw like a plea, head tossing back once more with a sound purely guttural. 

It’s sloppy, it’s clumsy. Sweat-stuck kisses to sweat-stuck skin. Nails digging into already moth-eaten clothing, his lips permanently pressed to your pulse, hammering and hammering in a wordless incantation of bliss. 

And yet, no amount of greedy, mindless sex, no amount of his doting kisses, his careful assurances, praises, can deter your mind from a reality unavoidable.

There’s no euphoria, no recovery your skin can even acknowledge as he flops to your side, both out of breath.

“.. Am I selfish for a pleasure I can’t even enjoy?” 

Silence breached, your eyes flutter closed, an involuntary tear slipping down your cheek where you lay upon the bunched sleeping bag.

This had been a dream, to be burned by the Man of Fire. Allowing his kiss to brand you, his touch searing every ounce of skin raw.

Little did you know you’d already scorched it all yourself.

Cruel. Irrevocably cruel.

Not even clarity grants your senses, emotion muddled between undergarments feeling too tight and grimy and the lack of fresh air rendering sticky bodies into a cold sweat.  

From beside you, his hand extends to your cheek, thumbing away the salty droplet with a weary smile.

“There is no selfishness, just… grasping onto what’s left. You’re not selfish for taking what you can get, not when everything is being taken from you.”

Hellion Inn was not your safety, it was the one gazing at you, the seven others outside. 

This is only a house, Minho is your home.

Fifth month arising, a conclusion is met. Amongst not-so-helpful input, bickering, and plenty of runs to libraries to gather more books on Ophiocordyceps unilateralism for a very studious Seungmin, he presents a possibility, an option.

Of its known enemies, the zombie-ant fungus doesn’t have many. There was the initial hypothesis on ways ants protect from the parasite, but with the Monster already infected, those methods were out of the question.

Then came the breakthrough.

Torrubiellomyces zombiae, or T.Z. An additional, fanciful word for a more powerful parasite. A Hyperparasitic fungi, zombie-ant fungus’ predator.

Create an ultimate beast without known opponents? Simply double the size, the power.

That’s where T.Z arrived, the species a core option for the Monster’s destruction. Get the spores on the Monster’s skin, and stay alive until it takes over and stabilizes the fungus’ infection.

Much easier said than done, which left room for the organized members of the group separating steps into phases.

Phase one focuses on collection of the spores. Extra photos Chris took that first encounter in the pharmacy unveiled the likely presence of the desired spores, which Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin have been elected to collect as Team C.

Phase two regards locating the Monster, introducing the presence of a harpoon gun (an idea Han loved (for the sole reason of fooling around with the harpoon gun)).

The point of the harpoon will be coated in collected spores, teams of three with three members each (A, B, and C) dispersed throughout the surrounding area the monster before Team A shoots.

And of course, courtesy of Han’s mention on what phase three should be: 

Run like hell. 

Phase two enacting in exactly a week, Hellion Inn spends its days in preparation, plaguing each breathing moment with gathering necessities and ensuring utilities are present.  

Between those lines comes the lividity.

Kisses in the night, his kisses. The shared cockiness, incessant teasing when the others are around as original as it comes despite such tenderness in private.

Your souls bared, secrets spoken into the air for only your ears to hear.

While the others sleep, you love till your heart hurts, watching him fall asleep against your palm where he’d kissed each of your fingertips minutes prior.

“I love you,” He whispers one night, his nose buried into your cheek with a heavy sigh. 

There’s not a single doubt within your mind, a hesitation, a hint of surprise.

Plenty of times it’s been said without words, repeated in the peck he presses to your skin.

“I love you too.”

And you repeat the words in a kiss to his lips. Slow, careful.

Savor. As if it were your last.

Dark clouds wrinkle your vision, spitting rain nothing short of irritating as you, Han, and Minho slip through cluttered underbrush.

Gathering of the spores had been successful by Team C according to the flare gun’s signal, and Team A—consisting of Changbin, Jeongin and Chris—tracked the location of the monster. 

Itaewon hasn't changed apart from the lack of bodies, assumed to be the Monster’s doing. Debris prominent, scavenging animals littering the streets without the usual congestion of people.

When the second flare blooms into shaded sky, that’ll be the indication the last stage: shooting the monster, is underway. For now, the three of you wait, listening in as hurried footsteps of Team C come thundering towards you.

Seungmin offers the vial, Minho lifting the harpoon gun to plunge into what appears to be an oddly shaped mushroom, your arm already lifted to the sky to fire Team B’s own flare gun.

Half way. Not done yet.

Now for Phase three, but, prior to the “run like hell” notion.

Jeongin is the retriever of the harpoon gun, angling through side streets past a lingering monster in the center to deliver the catalyst.

Almost there, almost–

His foot clashing against the metal of an alleyway trash-can disrupts that peace, and synonymously do you feel all breath held.

Chris was supposed to deliver the shot. Jeongin was supposed to make it to Team A unnoticed.

The world seems to grow mute, Han’s wrenching scream from beside you fallen upon deaf ears as the Monster’s gaping jaws beeline for Jeongin, claws extended, the boy kneeling to the ground.

Then, a ping! resounds, and your eyes are slow to open in fear his mutilated body would sit there, bright eyes lifeless.

It’s almost slow motion seeing it. Centimeters from Jeongin’s face does a palm outstretch, twice the size of his head, fingers twitching as if frozen in space.

Then you see it.

In the middle of that palm, the mere edge of the harpoon—only able to get halfway from its sheath—embeds.

Cavernous jaws of the creature part, incisors poised as if disbelieving of the matter itself. Disbelieving of the parasite taking over, altering its blood stream. 

Wilt.

White, almost decaying in the manner the alternate fungi destroys the weaker one, its muscles failing, body freezing.

You half anticipated the creature to at least try fighting in the meantime, land one last swipe. 

But the more time ticking past as you lean forward disproves any chance of movement, able to physically see the blood cells permeating the creature ashen, once curved claws diminishing simultaneously like that of crumbling embers.

Just then does Hyunjin’s voice breach your focus, curdled in urgency. It’s his cry that beckons Jeongin back to his feet, racing back after the others, tip of the harpoon still wedged within the Monster’s palm.

Oddly enough, as you watch the last of it dust into the wind as if melting, it doesn't feel real.

Too simple, uncanny. As if millions hadn’t extinguished in its horrid maw—a single parasite killing off the apocalypse bringer as easy as that.

Yet, it wasn’t easy at all.

Testing every last ounce of your wish for life, wish for a reality snatched from not just you, but eight others’ fingertips.

It was taxing. Surviving, experiencing the start of new love you didn’t think could sprout among a wintery wasteland included. 

But it did sprout, and the way you’re the first person Minho’s eyes drift to speaks that loud and clear.

Twin blossoms of the most brilliant colors, growing brighter the nearer they are. 

Closer than love, truly. 

We made it.

The Monster is gone.

There isn’t a word spoken as you make back for Hellion Inn, make back for home. The crunch of footsteps along gravel rings in your eardrums, breath exhaled from parted lips, matted, grease-ridden hair the least of your concern. No joyous shouting, no celebratory behavior in the slightest.

What is there to celebrate anyway? So many lives lost, too many to mourn.

Progression of your footsteps carries each soul with it, allowing them a final sleep in their eternal resting place.

Sleep well, Seoul. 

“It’s all over.” 

Whispered amidst roaring flames, you can only stare at the pharmacy as fiery flickers—vials, chemicals, ants included–swallow whatever has been left, torching hell’s origin once and for all.

One last stop. One last goodbye to all that was, the last chapter.

Without a word, Minho’s pinky links with your own.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @linocvp1d

[finelinevogue]

Okay okay but imagine this! dad Harry falling asleep on his stomach and your son crawling up and laying on his back! Like this is so friking cute!

ok this is a small blurb but i just love this concept so much :(((

Harry was shattered.

It wasn’t even just the kind of exhaustion that your eyes feel heavy, or you just have a headache. No it was a mix of both those and then the added body tiredness that meant he felt like he couldn’t move a muscle. Yet, he couldn’t complain. Not one bit.

It had been a 3 months since you and Harry had brought life into the world. 3 months since baby Oliver had taken his first breathes and 3 months since the happiest day of your lives. Although, you’d beg to differ that every day of your lives were happy. Not a day went by without a smile upon your faces now, which is why Harry couldn’t complain.

Even with the stress of a newborn baby, what with the endless nights of crying and days of nappy changing, you were both so content with life. With him. It didn’t mean you couldn’t be exhausted though. Harry was current proof of that.

He was currently laying face down on your bed, straight as a toy soldier, with his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. He deserved this rest and nap. He was always up with you whenever Oli was restless in the night and he was quick to help with the breastfeeding. He never wanted you to feel alone through any of this, so he did his part and more. He couldn’t be a better dad if he tried. But as much as he deserved this nap and time away from the chaos of having a 3 month old, Oli missed his dad and wouldn’t stop wriggling around to wait impatiently for his dad.

“Alright you, let’s go find daddy yeah?” You rhetorically asked, knowing your son wasn’t going to respond. You picked him up and out of his bassinet and cradled him in your arms, watching his big green eyes look up into yours. His little hands were curled into fists and waving around in excitement. He was getting what he wanted after all.

He giggled at the feeling of you bouncing up the stairs in search of your beloved husband. You instantly found him resting on the bed and you almost felt evil for going to disturb him. Almost. You knew Harry couldn’t be mad at you for blessing him with his son, ever. He would be happy - sleep maybe, but happy:

You walked your way around the bed and sat down on the edge of it, beside Harry. You watched as he blew the king curls of his hair off his face in his gentle sleep. He looked perfect. It was unreal to think he was yours. It was even crazier to think you’d created a child so beautiful and kind with each other. Life wasn’t always kind to you, but you were grateful that this was how it was ending up.

“Okay bubs, gotta be gentle now okay?” You spoke softly, watching as Oli’s eyes went wide with excitement over seeing his dad. His tiny arms started flapping around like crazy and his legs kicked happily underneath him. He was such an excitable child and you were blessed to call him yours.

You placed him carefully on Harry’s back, keeping your arms close next to him in case Harry suddenly jolted in surprise and catapulted Oli across the room. Oli was also very clumsy so it wouldn’t surprise you if he just fell.

Oli used on of his tiny hands to pat Harrys back softly, as if was going to be enough to wake him up. Unexpectedly, it was.

Harry didn’t move quickly, or even at all, once he knew how he was being woken up and by who. He turned his head to the side and gave a sleepy smirk, his eyes only half open in his wakening. He looked delicious, though, and you seriously just wanted to jump and devour him.

“Bloody gremlin you are.” He chuckled with a raspy voice, like the one he normally acquired in a morning. It sent tantalising goosebumps all over your body. Focus Y/N, your child could fall at any moment.

Harry made a point of keeping his eyes locked onto Oli, but Oli hadn’t quite clocked that his dad had woken up just yet so he kept on knocking his fist against Harrys back.

“Oli bubs, look!” Oli turned to you first and then towards where you were pointing to Harry’s woken face. His eyes were slightly puffy from sleep and his hair was an organised mess ontop of his head, but he still won most-handsome-human in your eyes. As soon as Oli spotted his dads familiar face - especially his eyes - he went a little crazy and nearly fell.

“Someone’s excited to see me.” Harry laughed, you lifting Oli up so that Harry could turn over. Oli wiggled like a dancing jelly-bean as you hoisted him into the air, until Harry had bent his legs at his knees and you could place Oli down on Harry’s lower stomach with his back to Harry’s bent legs. “Why isn’t mummy always this excited to see me, huh bud?” Harry grabbed Oli’s fists and started messing around with him.

“I am, it’s just a very different type of excitement.” You rolled your eyes at him, using his knees to prop your head up on to watch the two loves of your lives interact.

“Different how?” Harry teased.

“Well for starters we’re both normally naked.” You bit your bottom lip at the mere thought.

“Show me how that looks again?”

“Not with your 3 month old son sat on your lap, no.” You shot back at his crude remark, slapping his knee in the process.

“Mummy’s such a tease isn’t she?” Harry asked Oli and Oli just giggled in response, not having a clue what was going on.

“If mummy’s such a tease then she’ll just return her new black lingerie.” You threatened him, but you would never actually follow through with your actions - you loved the lingerie too much!

“Mummy will do no such thing. She’ll go put it on right now so daddy can teach her some lessons in respect.” Harry pierced his eyes into yours and you were quick to move both your hands to cover your sons ears.

“You can’t speak like that in front of our son!” You gasped, making sure you weren’t pushing too hard on Oli’s ears - all the while Oli is still laughing and trying to shove Harry’s fingers in his little mouth. Saliva was going everywhere, but Harry didn’t mind one bit - anything to put a smile on his Oli’s face.

“Well then don’t speak like such a brat to me, darling.” You gulped at his words.

“Shut up, otherwise we’re going to end up with another child a lot sooner than we planned.”

[nachoupala]

some of the gladers start regaining their memories when they finally get time to rest in the safe haven.

it takes longer for some, others regain them much quicker. but most of the memories come out of order and don't make much sense until a new memory appears and gives context.

unfortunately, gally is one of those who take quite some time gathering all the memories to learn about their past.

all he knows is that there's a young girl in his memories, not older than 8. though he's never been good at guessing people's age anyway.

he figures she might be his sister or a cousin of his. maybe a friend. and it causes him some sleepless nights because he can't fucking remember and it feels like such a huge part of his life is missing. he tries to remember her name. or what she meant to him. but nothing comes to his mind and he's slowly losing hope.

he talks a lot to fry about it and he's being a wonderful supporter, not able to come up with an answer either but always listening and making suggestions.

one day when gally dozes off at the beach, another memory comes back to him.

it's the girl again, looking directly at him with determined eyes and scissors in her hand. gally wants to talk to her but he can't. maybe he should be frightened, but instead of fear his chest feels wide with courage and thrill, the feeling of doing the right thing. he watches her raise the scissors and start chopping off her hair, the weight on his chest going lighter as the chunks of hair fall to the ground. the girls is smiling when she looks at him now and something inside of gally locks into place. something like recognition. like a bond that couldn't be any stronger.

when he is waken up by loud noises from other gladers, jumping through the water, he feels more lost than before.

that night, he talks to fry again. he tells him about the memory and the way it made him feel, so lost yet so complete. how the girl was looking at him. how at some point, her movements felt like his own.

as always, fry listens to him. he lets him finish and simply looks at him for a long moment after that.

"have you considered," fry says slowly, choosing every word carefully, "that this person isn't a girl at all?"

gally gives him a confused look and opens his mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat as fry's suggestion slowly starts piecing together in his mind.

fry continues after a few seconds of silence. "what if you were looking into a mirror in your memory?"

and gally doesn't have to say anything about that. his eyes are glued to the floor beneath him, watering from the way he hasn't blinked in a while. or maybe from something else entirely.

would it make sense?

it would explain the faint scars beneath his chest, barely visible when the light doesn't hit them in the right spot.

but does it make sense within him?

does it make a difference?

another sleepless night follows. there's no one he could talk to, no one who would understand. or maybe there is, he just doesn't know how to find them.

but despite all, he feels happy. happy about finally knowing who that kid was. that it was him, after all. he has always been a fighter, even back then.

wicked can't take that from him. not anymore. maybe he should be scared that such a huge part of him was missing. but after all, what does it matter now. he's gally, simply gally.

he has to find a way to learn more about this stuff, wait for more memories to come back or find someone to talk to. yes, this is what wicked took from him.

but never himself. they never could.

[jungle-angel]

15, 19, 25 in the smut prompts please!💛

Oh sweet Jeebus!!!! Ok I think it's time for a little bit o Ben Mears up in here cuz this just screams Benny boy!!!! lol (sorry, I tried to find a better gif)

It was definitely getting too late at night for this shit, but at long last, Jimmy, Matt, Mark and Mike had all decided to give you a much needed break.

"Don't know what we'd do without the rest of the coven, do you?" you chuckled, sliding a bit closer to him.

"Hmmm, damn right," Ben hummed as you slid his arm around your shoulders.

You didn't know how long you stayed on that little hillock overlooking the cemetery, the hoots and hollers of the men down below, knitted together with the loud and muffled playing of a rock station on the portable radio. The bright full moon hung above the town of Salem's Lot like a bright, silver eye, ridding the town and the valley of most of its nighttime darkness.

"You wanna sneak off for a while?" Ben asked before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"Where are we gonna go?" you asked him. "The cars are parked at Eva's and it's a haul back to town. "

Ben gave it some thought, running his hand over his freshly cut dirty blonde hair. "Go for a screw in the woods?"

You almost screamed, clamping a hand right over your mouth "Benjamin Mears!"

"I didn't say we had to, it was just a suggestion."

You knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Even just the thought of it was making you feel something that you would have been wrong on every possible level. Just looking at him alone in his dark washed jeans and white t-shirt, his short mop of dark gold hair and that crooked, lopsided little grin of his was enough to make you go nuts.

You leaned in and kissed him again, a little deeper than before. "I wouldn't be opposed to it at all," you purred.

A loud shout from below the hill in the graveyard soon reached their ears. "How much you wanna bet Jimmy smoked a few too many joints and fell into the open grave?" you laughed.

"I'll give you the money for it later," Ben chuckled. "But as far as I'm concerned, that's our cue to scram for a while."

You followed each other into the woods to a clearing where the moonlight shined in through the branches, the new leaves and buds of spring fully opened. It was like something out of The Lord of the Rings, one of yours and Ben's favorite novels, a place of peace and purity amongst the haunted town.

You and Ben collapsed into the grass, tired from the evening and night's work and just ready to spend it with each other. You rolled on top of him, kissing his lips first and then trailing to his neck, your hands running down his warm chest.

He became complete putty in your hands when you hit a spot on his neck, your kiss firmer as you tried to darken the little marks that were beginning to form. Ben gripped your waist with his hands as he sat up, his eyes darkening from the hunger that began to waken inside him.

"Bite me," he moaned.

"What was that baby?"

"I said bite me bitch," he answered, his voice more of a growl than anything.

You gladly obliged as you felt his hips roll into yours, his hidden arousal becoming a little more noticeable. Your hands and his roamed all over the place, up each others shirts and along whatever bare skin you could possibly touch. Your hands slipped across Ben's back and along his sides, down to the fly of his jeans where you unsnapped the small brass button and undid his belt and the zipper.

"Bite me again, please.....baby please," he begged.

You bit him again but never one did you draw blood, the two of you having promised long ago never to hurt the other during an act like this. Off slipped one piece of clothing, then another and another until the two of you were completely naked.....and completely lost in each other.

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

You two awoke in each other's arms to the sound of voices calling your names. "Oh shit!" you hissed.

"What? What's up?" Ben yawned.

"Time to go home."

The two of you rushed to put on your clothes, but the urgency in their voices had you and Ben darting off without a second thought. You met up with the others on the hill near the woodline, out of breath from the run and even more so from the screw in the woods.

"Where the hell were you two?" Matt asked.

"Just.....just needed a bit of a break," Ben stammered, trying to hide the smile that was practically crawling across his face.

You saw Jimmy and Mike's faces turning as red as their hair, their freckles disappearing as they stifled their own laughter.

"What?" you asked. "What's so funny?"

"Um.......(y/n) I think you forgot something," Mark said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You didn't realize what was missing until the cool spring breeze rushed over your torso, your nipples hardening at the sharpness of the air. You squeaked as Ben instinctively covered your breasts with his hands, the boys practically howling with laughter.

"Laugh it up! Laugh. It. Up!" you told them. "Where's everybody else?"

"Probably off doing the same thing," Mike Ryerson laughed, wiping a few tears out of his eyes.

You spotted a few more members of the coven coming out of the woods. "HEY!" You called up to them. "Has anybody seen my top?! I'm missing my top!"

Ben pressed his lips to his fist, a snort escaping from his nostrils. "You're lucky Callahan's back at the house, you horny little shithead," Matt told him.

Ben finally let it all out, laughing harder than before.

"Why are you laughing?"

Ben pulled something from the back pocket of his jeans and held it up for Matt to see with his own eyes......your shirt.

He laughed a little harder, even as Matt backhanded the side of his head. "(Y/n)'s gonna kill you when she finds out."

Ben knew you would, but in the end he knew it would be worth it.

[rainpudding]

Hey! I just wanted to say your works are lovely! May I request angst alphabet with Kaeya? Letters: a, f, i, m, w. Thank you very much! <3

note; I DO NOT romanticize toxic relationships, they're not cute or "romantic" this is just angst and the relationship is mentioned multiple times as unhealthy!

note; ty for supporting me ily!

ANGST ALPHABET | KAEYA

alcohol flustrated injury mistakes weak

tw; alcohol,injury, unhealthy relationship,kaeya being manipulate and emotionally abusive jerk, violence mental breakdown and more mentioned,sadism...

Injury (how do they react when you’re hurt?)

Kaeya isn't really scared of you getting hurt, he knows you're strong and he trusts you as much as he can. If you're also a knight of favounius he will try going onto missions with you! If you're not he will just try to ask Amber or someone who often clears the hillicurl camp to make sure you're okay.

If you come home with a small cut he will probably just tease you. A few words to see your flustrated expression. He doesn't really mind tho, he knows that getting hurt is part of your work. He will most likely just give you patches and on top, a short loving kiss.

However, if you came with a big injury his goofy mood would drop instantly. He would grow very worried his brows slightly furrowed. He would quickly help you sit down and start cleaning your wound. You would sit in uncomfortable silence waiting for him to finish. He would be very angry (opposite of a childe who would be very sad and whiny) you just shivered as you could feel the dark aura surrounding him.

Later he would sit in front of you looking you into eyes, his hands holding yours as he is silent. You feel awkward the wound was very big. You knew the domain was dangerous yet you still risked it.

You tried to look away but you could still feel him staring, waiting for you to explain to him why do you have a gigant scar on your belly.

When you started to talk he just sighed, he took you to bed and peppered your face with kisses while whispering how he can't lose you.

Frustrated (how do they act in a fight?)

( i already did how he acts in fights in fluff alphabet! But because this is angst let's make Kaeya more toxic/sadistic :))

- Fights are not something you want to experience with Kaeya. He loves seeing you mad, the way you just scream at him trying to keep your cold attitude. Trying to not break in front of him. As you wipe your tears so he can't see you cry. It really makes him entertained. Pushing you to your absolute limits he counters how much more he has to continue for you to explode.

- Seeing you like this, shouting and crying as you're waving your arms. He keeps teasing you and joking making it seems he doesn't care. Like your opinions don't matter. Like It's nothing to him.

- He just keeps insulting you and making fun of you, his shit-eating grin never fading and his cheeky laugh pissing you off. Soon he even starts ignoring your arguments. As you're trying to solve it he just ignores you laughing at your stupidy. Thinking about more words that could hurt you, even using your doubts and insecurities and other sensitive topics.

That keeps going until he touches something that hurtful that it makes you shaky and your knees drop. Your head starts to hurt as your vision is blurry. Like you're stuck in the labitinth of your own sick mind. Looking at your hands who are now more like s/c smudges you're shaking.

Kaeya's actions depend on how unhealthy your relationship is;

1; he would immediately stop realizing what he did, he would hug you tightly apologizing over and over. What an idiot he is. He feels ashamed and disgusted with himself. He tries to calm you down.

2; his smile becomes even bigger, wow he did it. He completely broke you. In a few minutes! How many Uhm- was it five? That's a new record. He laughs at your pathetic form.

Alcohol (do they drink too much?)

This again depends on how much your relationship is unhealthy! I would say it would go two ways;

Unhealthy relationship; Yes, kaeya drinks a lot. He drinks that much you're worried about his health, you trust Diluc that he will keep eye on him. But you're worried, but Kaeya doesn't listen to you. He calls you overdramatic.

Every time he comes home drunk just to go right to sleep, he can't keep balance and he looks sick. But if you talk to him he starts yelling and shouting soonly collapsing unconscious. And when he is sober and you try to talk to him about the drinking problem he just smiles.

Slowly leans to your ear and whispers how easily he can leave you, and how you can't stop him.

Somehow healthy but not so strong relationship; Kaeya drinks a lot. Sometimes collapsing in the tavern so Diluc calls you and helps you get him to Kaeya's and your shared home.

He wouldn't get abusive but he wouldn't stop.

Mistakes (make up after fight)

Interesting question! Again two ways;

Unhealthy; no, he wouldn't sorry to tell you. He wouldn't break up with you since he somehow sees you as some kind of trophy for his personal gain. He just loves seeing you cry and the way you come to him apologizing even though he was the one who hurt you. The way you have those big puppy eyes? So adorable! His sick mind and sick behavior, he just finds it addicting to see you cry.

Somehow healthy in?; Kaeya would def take his time before he apologizes. He would sit down with a glass of wine thinking and thinking alone in corner of Diluc's tavern. He feels guilty so guilty. And he tries to get this disgusting feeling off him by drinking wine, hopefully forgetting what he did to you. Expect to be wakened at 3 am with drunk Kaeya who is crying and hugging you. Peppering your face with kisses with still vine glass in his hand.

He is really overdramatic as he is fully drunk. He even gets to his kneees begging you not to break up.

Weak (they break down in front of you)

"Y/n Y/n Y/n I'm begging you," he cries, kneeling on the floor his hands clasped together. His eyes are full of tears as his hair is messy. The air is cold from the open window near the bed. You who are trying to calm him down cupping his cheeks. "Shhh Kaeya, I already said It's okay we will not break up!" you spoke. Your voice is quiet and calming. His eyebrows scrunched together," I don't want to break up," he said carefully. "Pinky promise," he took your hand. You smiled kissing him on the cheek. "I'm so sorry so sorry," he mutters with a sadness in his voice. " You deserve so much better," he quietly whispers. "Can I get a hug?" He asks you his eyes lighting, but as soon as you get your arms around him ready to hug he falls asleep. ; healthy relationship drabble

MASTERLIST

[amrio]

a nightmare kinda night

So I had this whole story plotted out and everything for fnf's favorite bomb boy and the gang that revolved around fun-sized whitty and how he would've been involved, but I lost interest a while ago... Anyways here's one of the fluff chapters that need no context at all. Oh and fun-sized whitty was dubbed Itty (like itty bitty whitty haha). There's an intro chapter if you want an idea of where this was headed btw.

(Not my characters, they belong to their creators)

------------------------------------

It had been one of Whitty's favorite kind of nights. The kind where the apartment was cool and quiet and there was rain outside the window that he could watch if he wanted to. But that had been three hours ago and the rain had turned into a storm since then. He didn't mind storms all that much, but they were annoying when the crack of thunder and flash of lightning kept waking him up. He wasn't a deep enough sleeper to ignore the loud noises, so he was left to stare either out the window or at the doorway in a daze waiting for the noise to finally stop.

On one hand, he supposed he could get up and go do something to pass the time, but on the other hand, no one else was awake and he was rather comfortable despite not being on the bed he had been given. It had been too ingrained that he had to be ready to move at any and all times in case he was caught up to, so settling down and shutting his eyes for eight long hours just didn't happen. Instead he opted to sitting in the corner facing the doorway, sometimes still sleeping with his eyes opened, but the longer he stayed with Carol the less on edge he felt. And he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing for his general safety. But that was a problem for the brighter hours of the day. As of right then, he was perfectly content to relax into the pile of pillows that Carol had stashed in his corner when she figured out where he slept. Those were nice. He had never had those before. He definitely preferred them over the hard wall and floor after being told what they were for. Softness was new, but he was finding that it wasn't necessarily bad.

So, yes, he was comfortable enough to rest with his eyes shut and listen to the rain in between the crashes of the storm. But then there was a new noise. It wasn't anything like the storm, it didn't sound like passing people outside, but it didn't sound happy. It didn't sound like it was outside at all really. It was much closer than that. It was whimpering. Was someone crying?

Whitty opened his eyes and took a wary look around. He didn't think the sound was coming from Carol's room. She was a deep sleeper and while she hadn't ever cried as far as he knew, the sound didn't match her voice. This left the only other person in the apartment. Itty. The little bomb had taken to sleeping in his bed since he didn't use it. A glance over in the bed's direction confirmed it. Even in the dark of the room, Whitty could tell that Itty had managed to fight the blankets into a knot around himself and was trying to lash out against something in his dream. He didn't have those very often. Dreams. The few he had had were either ungodly amounts of bizarre or absolute terrors that he woke up from crying. After a morning of waking up to one of the bad ones, he had asked Carol about if she ever did that. She had said yes to having what she called a nightmare, but she said she didn't usually wake up crying from them. The concern in her features was obvious even to him, but it wasn't the first time she had looked at him like that, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

With that in mind, Whitty took on the job of being concerned as he got up and walked over to the far side of the bed where Itty was struggling. He was fairly certain that his own nightmares were due to his past including both the lab and The Greater Good always on his heels. But as far as he and Carol had figured, Itty didn't remember much about his past, at least, nothing painful... Yet here he was, crying out in his sleep, scaring Whitty half to death when he started saying coherent words.

"No—! St-stop! Please! It—hurts! Please! No!"

It was painful to watch to say the least. Whitty had never seen the kid look so distraught, with the exception of when he had accidentally caught himself on fire, but that had been more of a panic. This was despair and agony. Thick black tears streamed down the kid's face while he shook and tried to jerk away from whatever was assaulting him. "Please! Stop! Why are you—! Please! I ca-can't!"

He had had enough of that, so Whitty reached down and tried to shake the little bomb awake. At first Itty's struggle only worsened with the grasp on his arm, but after Whitty shook him more insistently he finally seemed to waken a little.

Ittty's eyes shot open and he looked around wild-eyed, clearly not seeing his surroundings, and still shaking, but he did see Whitty and lurched towards him. Well he certainly tried to anyways. The blankets were too tight around him for him to get very far. When he realized this, he only cried harder. "P—please!" He was desperate.

Whitty, not really sure why, acted without thinking and got to work untangling the sobbing bomb. The second Itty was free, Whitty found himself having to brace against the impact of Itty jumping at him. When he got over the fact that Itty was now latched around his neck in a vice-like grip, he actually registered what was happening. Itty, the poor little kid who had the same start he had, was crying his eyes out and scared out of his mind. At first Whitty started to panic a little on the inside. What was he supposed to do with this?! He didn't know how to help in this kind of situation??? But then he looked down at Itty and it clicked. What would I have wanted when I was like this?

The answer to that was an easy one. He didn't even realize what he had wanted until he had been given it with Carol. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted someone there with him. No one would ever truly know what he was and had been going through, but someone's nonthreatening presence would have helped to ground him. As he looked at Itty in his little cat patterned pj's, it occurred to him that that wasn't entirely true, not anymore. He wasn't completely alone. Itty had been put through the same crap that he had, but the kid was lucky. He had Whitty to help him through it.

So with his mind made up, the older bomb moved as gingerly as possible, sat down, and shifted until he was leaning against the headboard with Itty tight against his chest. He wasn't very good at the whole affection thing yet, but he had seen Carol comfort Itty enough times to have a good idea of what he was supposed to do. First things first? Get him to stop crying.

"Hey," he muttered down to the crying kid. "Itty. Look at me."

Itty had his face buried in Whitty's neck and didn't seem to hear him, sobs still wracking through his little body.

Whitty blew out a puff of air before trying again. "Itty." He nudged him out of his hiding spot and offered a small smile when he saw the pair of normally bright, but now horribly scared eyes finally look up at him through the tears streaming down his face. "Hi. Think you can focus on me for a second?"

Itty looked so so confused, but after a second he gave a hiccuping nod. Then a clap of lightening struck followed by the deafening boom of thunder and sent Itty into crying hysterics all over again. He was right back in the hollow of Whitty's neck, but for a whole new reason.

Whitty glared at the storm outside, the rain wasn't going to ease up anytime soon and neither would the noise. How was he supposed to get the kid to ignore something as loud as thunder?! The headphones Carol had given him were on the other side of the room, but he knew that getting up wasn't even remotely an option with Itty attached to him. So he looked around for something nearby. Something to block the noise...?

Then he looked down at Itty again and it appeared that the kid already had it covered, or at least unintentionally had a good idea. The little bomb, in his panic, was trying his hardest to burrow into the side of Whitty's hood and hide from life and the loud scary things in it. That was a fairly easy solution Whitty figured. Plus it would even shield Itty from the flash of lightning so maybe he would calm down and go back to sleep. He's still not sure how he managed to get to the zipper with Itty in the way, but after a few minutes of rearranging and struggling with the petrified child, Itty ended up resting snug in the jacket with his head now on Whitty's chest and safely hidden away from the storm outside.

Another flash and crack of the weather outside had Itty tightening his grip again much to Whitty's annoyance. I thought we just fixed that issue. But he supposed that still made sense. Just because he couldn't see the storm didn't mean that Itty couldn't still hear it. It shook the apartment for Pete's sake. Of course he'd notice it. He needed a distraction or something else to focus on. But what else was there for him to do? It's not like there was anything he could go get for Itty to listen to. What else did Carol do when the kid was upset or feeling down? What did she do when he was upset?

He scrunched up his face trying to think as he watched another flash light up the room and scare Itty again. Normally she would get his attention and get him to sit down so he was at her height. Then she could effectively hug him and not his legs, and so far Whitty had the Hug Step accomplished. After that it was a toss up between talking him through whatever had stressed him out at the time or being quiet and there with him until he calmed down, depending on how upset he was. Well...that or she got him to sing. He liked singing with her quite a lot, so she usually hummed something that he could hum right back until he was up to singing and by then he had usually forgotten about what had set him off in the first place. ...How he had managed without her a year ago, he had no idea.

He personally didn't feel like singing right then. The room was pretty quiet aside from the storm, but his singing voice was not. He wasn't trying to compete with the thunder (even though he probably could and win), he was just trying to be a distraction. The question of if he should hum at all was answered the second he looked down at Itty's shaking frame. The poor kid hadn't asked for any of this. So Whitty sighed and started to hum. At first he didn't really know what he was humming, there hadn't been any song in particular on his mind at the time, but after a few notes he realized that it was the same song that Carol sang to him when he was upset.

Itty didn't react immediately, still flinching at the next bout of noise from the storm, but slowly his grip loosened and his crying faded in to sniffles and then just hiccups. He tucked himself closer to Whitty, but not out of terror this time. This time he was trying to get closer to the calmer sound of Whitty's song.

This entire time Whitty as been more or less still sprawled out on the bed, with his long legs propped up over the end of the bed and his arms still at his sides, unsure of what to do with himself. As Itty's breathing slowed, the need to curl around the kid suddenly hit him and he really had no idea what do with that. But...Carol did tell him that it was okay to respond to instincts like that. They were normal. Some of his amalgamated DNA was human after all. He had just never had a chance to indulge in any of the more touchy feel-y instincts before. But...they were why he liked hugs after he had had one. So now he hesitantly glanced at Itty, who looked pretty comfortable where he was, and shifted until his legs were crossed under him and his arms were curled protectively around the kid.

If it was any condolences to him, Itty almost immediately sighed and didn't even register the next crack of thunder. In fact, he appeared to be dozing off again. Perhaps Whitty had actually done it! Still humming, the bomb couldn't help but smile a little at his victory. He had calmed down a frantic, teary-eyed kid, without anyone else's help. And the thunder didn't even bother Itty anymore! Double win!

After a while Whitty ended up settling enough to shut his own eyes for a while, not to sleep—at least, not intentionally—but he could enjoy the weird but not bad feeling of Itty leaning against him. It wasn't entirely new to have someone using him as a pillow, Carol did it all the time. Her napping on top of him kept him in place and out of trouble, and he got to bask in the comfort of her trusting him enough to sleep within such close proximity. But Carol wasn't like him. She was soft and little.

Itty was little too, he supposed, but he wasn't soft. Not like Carol. He and the kid were made of the same stuff. They were both had rough skin and were often scalding to the touch when upset. And well. Itty was just in tears over a nightmare. Whitty didn't think anyone else could handle the little bomb when he was truly upset, just like the previous "fire" incident. But to him, the burning hot was nothing more than warm. Now, he didn't like why Itty was so worked up, but it was comforting to have someone so similar to himself. It was familiar.

Everything in life was so foreign to him. Affection, technology, people not being violent to him, having a roof over his head, eating a full meal...but Itty was not on that list. Itty was like himself, and he knew himself pretty well. The way Itty responded to situations was just like how he did. If something ticked him off Whitty recognized the heat rolling off of the kid's frame just as he recognized the spark at the end of his fuse and the little cracks in reality at his feet when the kid was truly angry. Itty's reactions were small compared to his own, but seeing another react the same was...it was interesting. Other people saw that all the time—people reacting in similar manners to themselves, but Whitty never had before. It was somewhat comforting if he was being honest.

He briefly wondered if that was what it was like to have a family. It seemed like a family thing, but he wasn't exactly an expert on that. The TV shows Carol watched sometimes had families involved and it seemed to line up with his thought process. People reacting similarly to the people around them who in turn knew and even expected the reactions. These families always seemed to enjoy each other's company to some degree, and he enjoyed Itty's company most of the time. Was that the same thing?

Whatever it was, Whitty decided it wasn't a bad thing, at least, it didn't make him feel anything bad. Looking down at Itty one last time, the only thing he felt was warm. Warm wasn't bad, right? He felt warm every time Carol grabbed his arm to show him something and even when Hex excitedly called him over from the other side of the basket ball court. Warm always followed him when he was around them, people he trusted or at least, people he wasn't afraid of. So yeah, he supposed, even if family wasn't the right word, he liked the feeling that was nestled in his chest as he accidentally drifted off with the smaller bomb leaning against him.

It was another new weird thing, but perhaps he could get used to it.

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Chapter 6

Hey! I know its been a while so click on the master list if you want to catch up or even start. Im going to try to start updating more frequently in the next few months. Thanks to everyone for reading!!

TW: Language, drinking, sexual references, blood

Faking It Masterlist

Aelin woke with a start to the sound of her phone ringing.

"Shit." She swore, quickly realizing she must've fallen asleep after her conversation with Fenrys. She hung up on the call, silencing that obnoxious ringing as she sat up in bed. Aelin hadn’t bothered to check who it was, but she knew she'd figure it out if she went back downstairs.

It was probably Lysandra, calling to make sure Aelin wasnt already passed out drunk somewhere. It wouldn't be the first time. Groaning internally, she picked herself up off the bed. Despite her falling asleep, the duvet covers looked unruffled. Still, she fluffed the pillow briefly in an attempt to ease her own discomfort at sleeping in Dorian's room.

With one last look to confirm that the room appeared undisturbed, Aelin closed the door shut behind her. She made it halfway down the staircase when the exhaustion hit her. It was a familiar feeling, like when you were abruptly waken from sleep to attend a six am practice at school. Still, she clung extra hard onto the railing for a moment in order to gain her bearings once again.

As her eyes finally focused, she could make out the throng of high schoolers in the living room below her. Her eyes adjusted to the colourful lights as she scanned the area for a familiar face. She saw Lorcan first, and then Rowan beside him, the latter scowling. At first it didn't seem odd, Rowan was always scowling at something. She took another few steps down the stairs, and with closer examination, realized something was wrong. 

She tracked Rowan’s glare across the room, landing on her ex-boyfriend and the guy who’s bed she’d just fallen asleep in. “Shit shit shit!” Aelin said to no one in particular as she hurried down the stairs. She reached Rowan at nearly the exact second that Chaol and Dorian did. 

“Hey guys.” She said, slightly out of breath. Chaol gave her a once over and his brows furrowed at whatever he saw. 

“Pull your skirt down A.” His voice was full of unjustified disdain. “You look like you just got railed in a bathroom.” 

Aelin glanced down at herself. Her skirt was in fact, extremely ridden up, and half her ass was falling out. In her haste to prevent a fight she had forgotten to check her appearance. She knew she should pull it down, what Chaol said was completely logical. And yet, they were broken up, who the hell was he to tell her what to do. 

Aelin shot him her sweetest simpering smile. “Maybe I did.” 

He bit out a harsh laugh, and she felt Rowan’s body tighten beside her. “Who the hell - “ Chaol started to say, but was cut off by his mouth falling open. 

Aelin, tired of hearing her ex speak, had taken action into her own hands. From the left of Rowan, she placed her right hand on his far cheek and spun her body around smoothly, bringing her lips to his. 

For a moment, he didn't reciprocate the gesture and Aelin’s heart began to race. Just as she began to pull away, his arm came around her lower back, and he started to really kiss her. Her other hand tangled in his hair as they stood intertwined. 

The rest of the room seemed to fall away, the music becoming faint and the lights dim as she kissed him. Someone coughed from beside them, pulling Aelin out of her daze. Slowly, she extracted herself from Rowan and turned back around to Chaol. He was staring at them, looking as though he’d just been slapped. 

Aelin delighted in the feeling of power flowing through her veins. She tucked her hands behind her back, and realizing her skirt had ridden up even further, she pulled it down. There were lines that even Aelin wasn't willing to cross to prove a point. 

To Dorian’s credit, he looked incredibly amused with the entire situation, and was clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Chaol’s expression was pretty funny, Aelin noted. 

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. Aelin recognized the exact second when he went from shocked to angry. Everything about him changed; his eyes, his posture, the way he held his hands. He was on the offensive now, and all Aelin could do was brace herself for the coming verbal assault. 

“You whore.” He spat. 

Un-original. Aelin thought to herself. He really needed new material. 

“I always knew you were fucking him on the side.” Chaol’s whole body was trembling with anger, and even Dorian had the good sense to look unnerved. 

Aelin didn't dare look at Rowan or Lorcan. “Chaol.” She said calmly, “lets go somewhere else to talk about this.” She was quickly growing un-easy. Aelin had wanted a reaction. Yes. But she wasn't expecting the look of pure hatred shining in Chaol’s eyes. The usually soft brown had darkened to a near black, making him look unhinged.  

He ignored her soft request completely. “How long Aelin?” He asked, his voice suddenly deadly soft. “How long did you wait after fucking me before you were back in his bed.” 

Suddenly Aelin felt a little ill. “It wasn't like that.” She hated how quiet her voice sounded. 

“Then what was it like huh?” 

“Please Chaol,” she half begged. “Can we just talk somewhere else?” 

“Why?” The expression on his face had turned evil. “You don't want the whole room to know that you're a fucking whore.”

He yelled the last word, but luckily it got lost in the music. 

“It’s pathetic really,” he turned back on her. “Your constant need for male validation.” 

He gave her outfit a once over, and Aelin found herself wishing she’d worn something more conservative. 

“You are worthless.” He spat the words again, shaking his head with faux-disappointment. “You’re parents probably killed themselves to get away from you.” 

Aelin barely had time to process the words before Rowan exploded. His fist connected with Chaol’s cheek, sending the latter flying backwards. He hit the ground hard, people and plastic cups scattering in his wake. Rowan was on him in an instant, pummelling his face into the tile floor. Blood leaked from Chaol’s face, seeping onto his shirt and the floor. 

Aelin didn't even hear Lorcan swear and run over to Rowan. She was too focused on trying not to scream. Lorcan threw his arms around Rowan, attempting to pull the thrashing high-schooler away. Rowan fought in Lorcan’s arms, before eventually slowing his efforts. 

Dorian, swearing under his breath, knelt beside Chaol. The room was spinning, and Aelin’s head fucking hurt. She stumbled through the room, trying to find the exit. There was a loud roaring in her ears, and spots danced in her vision. 

Fuck. What if she fainted at a high-school party? Aelin would never live that shit down. 

“Oof.” She grunted as she slammed into a wall. Aelin groped about blindly, searching for a door. She nearly collapsed with relief as she found one, and threw herself in, shutting the door. She barely had time to lock it before she was vomiting, most of it landing in the toilet. 

“Fucking hell!” A voice exclaimed loudly. Aelin allowed herself to finish retching before she turned to face her latest stroke of bad luck. Could she not be alone for five fucking seconds?

The male beside her was clearly just finishing up washing his hands, as he was still holding a hand towel. “Aelin?” He asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“Cairn.” She grumbled in reply, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Aelin had never really liked Cairn. He hated Chaol with a passion, envied her ex-boyfriend for getting the captain spot in sophomore year, a spot that everyone thought was going to Cairn. 

Despite the poor timing, Aelin had been meaning to track Cairn down to talk. Far be it for her to give up this perfect opportunity, vomit and near panic attack aside. She slowly pulled herself into a standing position and nudged Cairn away from the sink so she could splash some water on her face. The cold helped centre her again, and Aelin let herself take a deep breath. 

Cairn was watching her with a look of apprehension, as if watching a slow motion car crash.

“I heard about your bet.” She said in a monotone voice. 

Cairn’s jaw tensed, but that was all the physical reaction he showed. 

“Im not going to try anything.” He said softly, surprising her a little. “I have a thing about vomit.” 

Suddenly Aelin was thankful for the small nearly invisible chunks of throw-up left on her shirt. 

“Am I supposed to thank you for not being a dick?” She asked him

“I didn't ask you to. You thanked me enough with that show out there. I just won 200$ off a bet I made a year ago.” 

“A bet on what?” She asked, unsure of if she really even wanted to know. 

Cairn smirked. “Who would throw the first punch?” 

Aelin couldn't help the way her whole body tensed. “You seem to be betting a lot lately.” 

“I had a thousand dollars on you and me getting together at this party A.” He shrugged as if the loss of that kind of money didn't matter to him. “You owe me.” 

She decided to ignore the last part of the comment. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to fuck me?” 

Against her own wishes she bit out a small laugh. The joke wasn't even funny, and slightly offensive, but the look of hope on his face did enough. 

“No. I’m just going to let you tell people I did.” 

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “And why would you do that?” 

She tried to hide how much she had riding on his response. “Your going to let Rowan on the football team. Or at least a try out.”

Cairn laughed, a real laugh. “Chaol will murder me.” 

She tapped her foot. “You get a thousand dollars and can tell everyone whatever you want about me.” She paused. “Just nothing too humiliating okay?” 

His answering grin was borderline wicked. “Deal.”

The shook hands briefly. Aelin didn't really mind Cairn telling people about the two of them, it would either be dismissed entirely as a rumour or forgotten soon there after. Besides, she had more important things to worry about. 

The door handle turned and she spun around. “I’ll leave you alone then.” Cairn said, nodding at her. He had stepped mostly out before he paused once again. 

“Sometimes Aelin I wonder if you and me are soulmates.” 

She nearly choked on air. “What.” 

He just smiled, a softer smile than she’d ever seen on him. “We’re just more alike than you think.” With that he left, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Cryptic fucking prick. 

Aelin took a few moments to finger brush her hair and straighten her clothes before exiting the bathroom. God high school parties were awful. She just needed to get to the front door without bumping into anyone of note, call an uber, and get the fuck home. Not too bad right? 

She managed to get about halfway before someone called her name. Aelin didn't bother to look around, just kept elbowing through the crowd as if her life depended on it. 

“Aelin!” The voice was louder this time, getting closer too. 

She had just made it to the threshold when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Choosing to ignore it, Aelin flung open the door and half collapsed onto a step, praying that whoever it was could take a hint. 

Unfortunately for her the weight shifted on the wooden porch and Chaol Westfall took the seat beside her. 

She got up to leave immediately, despite her exhaustion, but he reached out a hand. 

“Please.” He said. “Just hear me out. It’ll be quick.” 

Aelin did. But only because she was pretty sure she would collapse if she didn't rest for a little longer. 

“Aelin I'm really fucking sorry okay. I crossed a line.” 

She didn't bother to reply. Aelin couldn't count the amount of times they’d had this exact same conversation. He said something shitty, she walked away, he apologized a day later. 

For some fucked up reason she always forgave him. Aelin didn't have the energy to make tonight any different. She wanted to be on good terms with Chaol, even if that meant taking a slight hit to her dignity. If she had any left. 

“I mean I know you’re not sleeping with Rowan so everything is okay.” 

She whipped her head around to look at him. 

“Is that the only reason you’re apologizing?” 

He gave her a once-over. “I mean yeah.” He paused. “You weren't fucking him so there was no reason for me to get mad.” 

She shook her head, mad at herself for being surprised. “God Chaol. Each time I think you can't be an ever bigger dick, you prove me wrong.” 

She moved to stand leaning slightly on the railing. An Uber was parked along the curb, evident from the odd looking U on the windshield. She stumbled towards it and rapped on the window. 

“Are you Yrene?” The man in the driver’s seat asked. 

Aelin nodded, sliding into the back seat. She closed the door behind her and rested her head against the head rest, fighting off sleep. 

“I am.” 

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[pinkhairedlily]

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 4 - R

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

-xxxxxxx-

April 20, 2021, 11:16 PM

“Still in questioning for two weeks,” Sasuke grits through his phone. “And they didn’t allow him to post bail?”

“Akugawa’s attorneys tried to appeal this week but it’s a no go. Doesn’t help that he’s brought to a different district so it’s completely out of our jurisdiction,” Neji replies. “Have you heard from Jugo?”

“Just a text message saying they lied to him and told him the directive was from Asuma.” Sasuke lets his fingers run through his hair, too frustrated to think straight this evening. “All they have against Akugawa are purely circumstantial. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but the media ruckus is hungry for the gay serial killer angle. Well, I gotta go Uchiha.”

“Have fun. It’s your wedding anniversary tonight, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you with a woman yourself?” The call ends.

Rid of distractions, he is now at liberty to gaze freely at the rosette reading a book beside him. She gives him a smile and ditches the book to trace lazy circles on his chest. The lunch break meetings have become too short for the both of them thus the need for dinners and coffee. He didn’t plan on making a move, not when there is still an active case, but she’s enthralling in a sense. It’s her presence that pulls him into her orbit – or maybe it’s the pink hair and the emerald eyes that make it difficult to look away.

When he almost hailed her a cab for their fifth dinner, she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it down to her side, intertwining her fingers with his. It was the first time he held her hand.

With a flushed face under the dim city lights, she asked him, “I would like it if you take me home with you.”

And even after arriving in his flat, he hesitated to kiss her. Only when she brought his fingers to her lips did he move, suddenly gripped with a drive to gently coax her into pleasure. She undressed for him in the dark, already wet and pulsating for his touch, his kisses, and he let the jasmine perfume perforate his senses. He was careful not to leave marks of his trail – after all, it might just be the last as it could be the first – and regrets were felt stronger when there were remainders.

The first time was followed by a second, and she posed a question. “Why are you so gentle with me?”

He looked at her face and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the color of his dreams. “I’m afraid you’ll break.”

She took his hand and slapped it on her perky breasts. “Try and break me then.”

Where he wavered, she asserted – her nails leaving scratches on his back, bruising his lips, marking his neck, and pulling his hair – but she did it so beautifully that he basked in pain as she yelled his name in ecstatic throes.

He pulls away from reminiscing when the lazy circles start to draw lower. He softly takes her dainty wrist and places an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse is.

“I take it your team is still prohibited from pursuing other leads?” Sakura gasps.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Both chiefs had to save face, particularly when the district attorney got the call first, then the media, and we were the last to know. But it’s more of a pro-forma. My guts don’t tell me they’re still out there.”

“You don’t believe it’s him?”

“He perfectly fits Yamato’s profile. Had several sexual relations with married CEOs, naively accepted promises of secured futures, let down just as quickly as he has been picked up.”

Sakura climbs on top of him and starts to grind on his hardened member. “Too bad. Akugawa is a nice colleague. I was the one who encouraged him to enroll in those meditation classes.”

One arm wraps around her waist to keep her steady while the other tugs away the sheet that comes in between their moist flesh. He brings her breasts closer to his tongue, his words lapping against her skin. “Oh you must be good in yoga too.”

“I’m flexible like that, Detective.” She slips his cock insider her ready core, and the fitting sensation makes the both of them shiver.

“What other things are you good at, Dr, Haruno?”

She locks eyes with him and words are lost as they start to find rhythm in their thrusts.

-xxxxxxx-

April 25, 2021, 6:27 AM

“I take it they’re gonna name you as the director for the overseas expansion.” He asks as soon as they step out of her penthouse.

He didn’t expect to step foot in her domain; he knew it was how the elites operate, but maybe she waited for the sixth date to test him. He couldn’t deny how he was intimidated by her biometrics door, the large cctv panels on her foyer, and her voice-automated house system, but it fascinated him to see the bleak contrast of her plant-filled space against the extravagant automations and sharp marble floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” She angles her eyes on the retina scanner, and the security system beeps to life. The whole floor will be inaccessible even to the administration until she comes home. “Either way, it’s gonna be a success for the Senju-Haruno corporation and its shareholders.”

“Shouldn’t they give you bodyguards then?”

Her fingers ease in into his waiting hand. “I have a detective for a lover. I’ll be fine.”

He leaves soft kisses on her knuckles. “Can’t your lover be worried?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after me. I’m a woman, remember?”

6:41 AM

“Sorry to delay your trip to the office. I’ll just check the ravine again.” They hazard park on the side of the forest. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Sakura nods with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll stretch my legs out for a bit, but I really wouldn’t want to wander. I don’t know the area quite well.”

He hops off the car, unaware that a nondescript black sedan stopped a few meters away from their spot. Sasuke traverses the wide trunks and mossy forest floor until he finds the exact dumping spot – a clump of thorny bristles and rue hedges. His eyes survey the surroundings and notices a disturbed, rather steep area above the ravine, a tricky slope which cannot be possible for someone like Akugawa. With his built, he would have skidded down when he dumped the body. It had to be someone petite.

Light footfalls behind him. Sasuke glances at the sound, his hand ready to pull out his gun.

“Sorry I followed you. I’m kinda jumpy.” Sakura waves at him from above the slope, her silhouette prominent against the morning backlight.

Then his eyes register another bigger, taller, heavier silhouette behind her.

“Sakura!”

Gunshots miss Sasuke by a breadth, but he doesn’t miss how the hooded figure clamps a hand over Sakura’s mouth and drag her away into the forest. He scrambles up and follows their trail, cursing his ineptness.

His breaths are louder than the wakening birds and traffic on the roadside, and his feet feel more like lead for every tree that leads him deeper into the forest. Then he hears two consecutive shots, and he feels all of his sensory motors go into overload.

Sasuke’s feet direct him to the sound. When the vines give way to a clearing, the first thing he sees is her disheveled rose hair, pulled apart from her high bun, tousled like an unkempt mane on her back.

And a dead man on the forest floor, a gunshot to the head, and another on his side.

She was trembling, eyes wide, clenched teeth, and closed fists. Giving her time to adjust to the events, he goes first to the perpetrator and lowers the hoodie. It’s one of the Mingwa private cronies, probably following him to make sure he isn’t doing independent investigations. But since they touched a Haruno-Senju heir, the corporate publicity will angle this as harassment and attempted assault while the private faction will absolve their hands of any involvement. He calls Kakashi and Asuma for help.

After which, he glances at her, and she finally blinks out of daze. She slumps against him as soon as he’s near, and the reverberations of her body immediately hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says even though he has a lot of questions.

“He slipped and I went for the gun,” she whispers shakily against his shirt.

Yet he still wonders why there were two shots when one to the head could have sufficed, especially with unfamiliar hands. Or how she’s able to take down a man that size with her dainty wrists.

“I’ll call in sick today. Bring me home?”

He tightens his hug before he lets her go then he realizes he’s not familiar with the terrain.

She tugs on his coat and starts to walk. “If we cut across here, we’ll see the road in five minutes.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 5, 2021, 10:22 AM

“Did Dr. Haruno come back okay?” Kakashi sits down across Sasuke’s desk and fidgets with his unused pens. Even though the investigation was halted, his room remains littered with manila papers, bulletins, and notes on the white board. The necessity to preserve becomes apparent when they receive news of Akugawa posting bail this morning.

Sasuke nods in response. “She still went through with her trip to Belgium last April 28. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I’m not privy to her internal emotions so it’s not my place to say she’s okay.”

“About time they gave her bodyguards.” The chief detective taps an unlit cigarette stick on his desk. “It’s great seeing you like this.”

“This what?”

“Happy?”

Sasuke clucks his tongue. “It’s not official. She just might be in it for the thrills.”

Kakashi smirks and lights up his stick. “Sex must be great then.”

“Get out, Hatake.”

A rap on the door catches both of their attention. Yamato comes in followed by Asuma, Tenten, Jugo, and Neji.

“There’s a fourth body in the same ravine. Body is now with the ME. Estimated time of death is enough for Akugawa to file for several cases. It’s gonna be a media bloodbath,” Asuma says.

As the lot file out of the office, Kakashi pulls Sasuke to fall behind a bit. “Trust no one, Uchiha.”

11:45 AM

There’s something off-putting about the smell.

This body does not follow the two-week gap; the ME estimated the date of his death on April 27. This slight change in MO presents the possibility of a copycat, but other than that, all injuries are the same – a stab in the carotid, teeth pulled out, arms and feet cut, genital missing – which means another thing, the killer slipped somehow and they’re on a rush. For what, they don’t know.

“Ando Suzuki, CEO of Suzuki Airlines for Japan,” Asuma states his name for confirmation. “Let’s do our usual. It’s time we ramp up our progress, Uchiha.”

Sasuke ignores the pointed insinuation and steps closer to the corpse. It didn’t rain last week despite the forecasts so the state of the body is more or less preserved. He brings his nose closer to the neck, right where the murder tool punctured the artery.

“Sasuke, what are you doing?” Tenten asks. “Forensics have close up shots for that.”

“It’s the smell.”

“Like decomposers and rotting flesh?” Jugo scoffs.

“Is it possible that they might have tried to remove him?” Sasuke asks the ME who quickly goes to him and helps him turn the corpse on its side.

They see fresh scar on the pricked wounds, like someone tried to drag them out of the ravine. As if they knew the position would give them away this time. The smell hits him strongly when the ME returns the corpse to a prone position, and Sasuke almost vomits when he recognizes it.

It can’t be. In controlled breaths, he steps away from the examining table and slumps against the wall. Kakashi notices but pretends not to. It’s Tenten who slithers beside him inconspicuously and taps on his arm. She raises a brow which he responds to with a cluck of his tongue.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts. “Why can’t it be a woman?”

“If you can recreate a position of a woman stabbing the artery without defense wounds, let me know,” Yamato says with a cold smile. It’s meant to shut Tenten up; he doesn’t like his profiles being challenged. “And the smell you’re talking about Sasuke? It’s jasmine. The area probably has blooms.”

2:30 PM

“Something’s weird with Uchiha,” Neji pulls out his badge, ready to present it to the landfill. They’re revisiting dumping sites again for a second go-through. The killer is starting to leave breadcrumbs all over the place. “Did you see how pale his face went earlier?”

“Jasmine and rotting flesh don’t make good perfume,” Tenten figures. The guard sees their badges and gestures for them to come inside.

There’s a peculiar batch of scavengers in the area, people who aren’t part of junkshops or associations, just individual peddlers. A bald man in his 70s glances their way and starts to move towards their directions with only one foot and crutches for the other.

“Police?” He has a putrid gummy smile. “That lad didn’t come here again.”

Neji tugs Tenten away, but his wife stays rooted to the spot. “A lad?”

The old man opens his palm.

“He just wants money, dear,” Neji grumbles. “Let’s go now and talk to the real rational people.”

Tenten pulls out her wallet and sticks a wad of one dollar bills on the man’s hand. “A lad?” She repeats.

“Thought it was our fellow. We have young ones with us, you know, like your age but definitely shorter in height. He comes in dressed in a black raincoat and plastic boots, dragging bulky garbage bags like they’re not heavy at all.” His smile gets bigger by the count of the bills.

“Did you get a good look at this man?” Tenten asks, still unwilling to let go.

“Tenten,” Neji warns.

“This might be our lead. A concrete lead for once.”

“Wind knocked his garbage of a hood one time. Shiny bald head says hi.”

Neji is at the end of his wits. “Dear, you’re not even sure if he’s talking about our guy.”

Tenten sticks a 10-dollar bill on the old man’s almost torn shirt pocket. He proceeds with a guttural laugh, the phlegm oozing through each gasping breath. “He always dumps those bags on a full moon.”

4:30 PM

Sasuke sneaked in earlier to the administration office just before the receptionist’s desk came into view. With slight intimidation into play, he managed to get duplicate recordings of the cctv of the whole floor.

He taps Kakashi for help and another IT staff.

“Looks normal to me,” the silver-haired man remarks. “Why are you snooping on your girlfriend?”

“All of them were her patients at one point,” Sasuke replies. “And we don’t do labels.”

“But their visits were nowhere near their kill dates.”

“Their visits were logged as emergency procedures because Akugawa or their company doctor wasn’t available. So why?”

Kakashi smirks. “Are you insinuating they were there to get a glimpse of her? The recluse medical corporation heir. Nothings amiss in the recordings, right? No sexual body language?”

Sasuke hopes the same, but the lurch in his guts tells him otherwise. He swallows whatever saliva that hasn’t dried yet in his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable.

“The recordings are fine. She’s always accompanied by her assistant when she has clients,” the IT replies. “It’s the code that bothers me. You see, a malware is playing with it, looping the same frames while continuing the time ticks. Either someone knows their technology or this is a complete human error.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 7, 2021, 12:01 PM

“Oh, it’s you,” Laura says nonchalantly, never glancing up from her keyboard, and click-clacking away even though it’s already lunch break. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you know how to code?” He doesn’t spare her a glance either, his eyes trained on the door.

“Is this a side job? I can get Shin if you’d like. He fixes the systems here when he has time. He’s a computer geek before he settled for dentistry.” She stops typing and eyes her wristwatch. “She’s here.”

True enough, the door opens just as Laura tells him. She wears her rose hair loose today, falling like waves against her tucked in white long sleeve polo and denim jeans. She spots him after she gives her white coat to her waiting assistant.

Smile, wave, and unhurried walk to reach him. “A lunch break?”

“Wondering if you were still alive after your trip.” The jasmine in the air transports him to two different scenes, his memory being stretched out in two drastic dimensions, one where she’s writhing beneath him and one where he sees the corpse falling on top of him. The scents mix, and he fails to cover up his gag. Both women look at him with brows raised but he waves them off with his handkerchief.

“Days of absence and your heart grows fonder. That saying is true after all.” She places a hand on his cheek and softly taps it. “A sandwich?”

“I’m starving.”

“Two sandwiches then.”

8:19 PM

She invited him for dinner while they were munching on half-dozen random sandwiches from Subway. He didn’t talk about the case nor did he question her radio silence since her Belgium business trip. This was why she genuinely liked Detective Uchiha Sasuke.

Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

She knew he had an inkling. She messed up in the forest. If she had the luxury of time, she would have dismembered the man who grabbed her. A stab from a scalpel was a merciful way to go, and that man didn’t deserve it. Filthy hands.

The anger rushes to the surface, and she stabs the roasted meat rather too loudly.

“Is your meat still alive?” He emerges in her dining room and continues to look around. “Your wooden mansion is a far cry from your depersonalized penthouse.”

She laughs as she strains the cooked pasta. “I like having two personalities.” He must have triangulated by now that the location of this mansion is smacked in the center of the dump sites, a safe, close distance to the landfills, the forest, and even the meditation place. He must have seen the black pick-up truck on her garage, the one she uses for farming. She can see all the pieces fitting into a completed puzzle in his head, and she’s sad to let him go.

He opens the wine she placed on the counter, and he fills himself a glass. “You also have a crystal collection like Akugawa.”

“I gave him his first obsidian. Their healing properties are supposedly at maximum during full moon.” She places two plated bolognese pasta on the table and a wide platter of medium rare meat. “Dinner’s ready.”

“This looks good.” His tone is genuinely fascinated. “Didn’t know you could cook. We always dined in or ordered take out.”

“A change of pace, wouldn’t you think?” She also fills herself a glass of wine and watches in amusement as he takes a first bite of the meatballs she especially prepared for him.

“You should tell me where you source your meat. I’ll one up you in our next dinner.”

I’m too sad there won’t be a next one.

10:17 PM

Sakura changes position, and she’s on top of him, gyrating her hips in familiar pleasure. Sasuke wants to take it slow, to re-encounter her folds and curves after several days of not seeing her, despite his senses overriding in danger. He took her an hour ago, on her immaculate grainy wood counter, wine spilling on the sink as he thrusted into her unclothed core. She had gone commando, and this drove him insane. Maybe his lust is taking over him, clouding his judgment, muddling his perfect frame by frame memories, but he has to play this game. It’s only a matter of time.

He feels her insides throb in urgency, and he knows she’s near her orgasm. Her juices leak out, and he bucks against her wetness, releasing his load into her with eyes closed.

He waits for the scalpel to puncture his carotid, but nothing comes. “Sakura.”

She continues riding his limp member and rubbing her clit against his balls. A strategic distraction as they are coming down from a high. He expects her to trace lazy circles on his abdomen, a mannerism he picked up from their nights, but the dainty hands go to his neck instead.

He opens his eyes, and he sees a different Sakura. Her microexpressions are different, her eyes throwing daggers, soft pliant lips in hardened scowl, and hollowed cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s your issue with a scalpel, Sakura.” Her voice is different, the accent changed. “You must have fallen in love with him already. Such a frail human.”

“I wanted to prepare myself before I see him go. That is all.” Her face shifts and the emotions return to the Sakura he knows. He also notes the loosening grip on his neck, unaware that he is holding his breath.

Another shift and it’s back to the other Sakura. “She has such a saccharine charm effective in luring me to do things.” She smiles at him, but it’s not the smile he’s familiar with. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna die yet.”

She chokes him with surprising strength. He places pressure on her wrists and elbows, but she doesn’t budge. His legs start to thrash out beneath him, and his sight starts to dim.

“Great work as always, sister. We’ve always wanted the truth about Madara, don’t we?”

[nanagoswife]

For You? Always.

Chapter Seventeen

Summary: The next morning, and the first visit...

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: insinuates intimacy

You were slowly wakened by the feeling of light kisses being pressed to your neck, your cheek then finally your lips. Without opening your eyes, you brought your hand to Ben’s cheek and felt as he smiled. When you opened your eyes to meet his, the smile grew as you brushed some of the loose hairs from his forehead.

“Good morning, darling,” he said in a voice deepened from sleep. Smiling, you scooted closer until you were pressed against his chest. Instead of feeling the contact through fabric, your skin met his, sending a new sense of comfort through you.

Ben put his arm around you to pull you just a little closer. He placed a kiss on your forehead before you heard whining from the other side of the door. You had forgotten to let the dogs into the room before going to sleep.

“I’ll take care of them,” Ben said after chuckling. He went to get up but you pulled him back in and kissed him. You wanted this moment to be drawn out just the slightest bit longer.

It did, but the whining from outside the door only worsened.

Ben sighed before removing himself from the warmth of you and the covers. Swiftly, he got a pair of pyjama pants and pulled them on before leaving the room.

After watching the door close behind him, you got up and put your own pyjamas on. You also picked up the clothing from last night off of the floor and neatly placed them on top of the dresser. Soon after, you joined the others in the living room.

Boga rushed straight to you when she ran back inside. Kneeling down, she placed her paws on your knee and frantically licked your face. A laugh escaped you while you were attempting to pet her. Soon, Cody joined the fray and gave his own welcome.

Enjoying the show, you heard Ben laugh at the love attack from the two dogs. He watched for a few more moments before helping the situation by signalling for them to come eat their food. It worked as their attention quickly shifted to him.

Standing up, you walked over to the kitchen to start coffee. Once he dealt with the food, Ben joined you in the kitchen. You turned to face him as you leaned against the counter.

Stepping up to you, he placed his hands at your waist and rested his forehead on yours when you wrapped your arms around his neck. Making eye contact with you, a small grin appeared on his lips.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment.

“For what? The situation with the dogs?” he asked.

Then he realised what you actually meant.

“Oh. Well, if anything I should be thanking you for trusting me,” he said with a softness that always calmed you.

Smiling, you added, “But you helped me break a prejudice that has haunted me for years. Also, you just made all of yesterday the most memorable day of my life.” His grin turned into his infectious smile that always made your day brighter.

“Then, if it is what you say, I’m glad I was a part of it, as it was also one of my top memorable days. The only one topping it being the day I met you in high school.” Shock filled you, as you questioned as to what was so memorable about. To your dismay, you didn’t remember when you had first met him.

“Oh really? What was so memorable about that? Don’t be mad, but I don’t remember it,” you admitted. He laughed.

“I didn’t really expect you to. It was when I first came to that school after we had moved from London-”

Quickly, you cut him off, “You never told me that you moved from London when you came to our school.” It did explain why his accent was more prominent during certain moments though.

“It’s because we had houses in each area. One here and one in London. I was mainly living here, but I made frequent trips to London. That’s why I just say that I grew up here and not London, because ninety percent of my life was spent here. Changing schools was caused by the fact that we moved from one side of town to the other,” he explained.

“Anyways, the day I met you was, I believe, the second or third day at the school. I had been walking to meet a teacher when I accidentally bumped into Mitchell Turner,” he said, turning from you to the coffee machine as the chime went off.

He continued as he made your cups of coffee, “He took major offence at the accidental contact. Without much hesitation, he started picking on me. Especially mocking my accent as I was stumbling over my words to apologize. Next thing I knew, I heard your voice cut through his mockery.”

“Back off Mitchell. What makes you think you can pick on someone who accidentally bumped into you in a tight hallway,” you muttered as you remembered that day you stood up to one of the Turners.

A smile grew on his face as you recited the words you used in his defence. He handed you your cup of coffee as you remembered what played out.

“I remember apologizing that you had to deal with him. Didn’t I help you find that classroom as well?” you asked. He slowly nodded while taking a sip from his mug.

Recalling that day, you felt horribly for not realising that it was him that you had helped.

Before you could say anything, Ben continued, “I know what you’re probably thinking, and you don’t have to feel bad. The only reason I remembered that was because that was the first encounter of that nature I had faced. At my other high school, I had been beaten up and no one stepped in. That’s why I moved schools half way through the first year.”

He paused a moment, remembering the day before adding, “That’s why I eventually found that cafe and went there every day. It was where I could guarantee that I could study and do homework without any confrontation.”

“Why didn’t you do it at home?”

“My mom’s job was a very demanding one. One that she seemed to be on the phone or have clients over almost the whole evening sometimes. She also had plenty of free time, but the calls and meetings were never always constant. So, to make sure I had a safe and calm place to do work, I learned to find one.”

Sadness and guilt crept up into your throat at hearing this. “Ben, I’m sorry.”

“For what? I at least had one person keeping me from getting beat up and I spent lots of quality time with my mom. Going to the cafe was just a constant in my life that I enjoyed,” he finished.

As he looked into your eyes, he saw tears of both sadness and happiness forming in your eyes. Placing his mug down, he stepped in front of you, wiping the tears from your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

Pulling you into him, he hugged you tightly, “It’s okay. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it didn’t happen, if you hadn’t helped.”

Learning just how much you affected his life made your tears flow more. You couldn’t help but think how you may not have been where you were now, had you not stepped up. Scenarios flew through your mind as the thought that he may not have even seen this day surfaced the pool.

Leaning back and meeting his eyes again, you smiled while he cleared away the streams once again. His own smile, meant to comfort and brighten your mood, spread across his face.

“I love you here and now. What happened back then no longer troubles me. The only concerns I want to have now are whether you feel the same about me,” he said with a soft tone.

“I do. I love you more than words can describe.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Now come on, we should get ready and walk Cody and Boga before they go crazy.” Nodding, you took a sip of your coffee before heading to your room to change. After that, you would enjoy the rest of your day before Ben had to leave tomorrow.

- - -

It had been a work week since Ben had left for work. For the first couple of days, it was difficult. Ben was so busy that he was hardly able to have time to call you. Though, he had called you every night, it would have to only be once he was finally able to go back to his hotel room.

When things slightly settled, you would FaceTime him and let Boga and Cody say their own hello. Even though he was working, he would keep the call going.

Like in the days of the cafe, you would listen to his muttering as he worked. Many times, it actually helped you get through your own work when you had it.

Just having the call in the background was useful in his work too as he would ask for an occasional opinion or would listen to what you were doing. Often, you would have the soft music from the record player going as you read a book. Something he noticed was that you also had some mutterings as you read. If you had done that before, he never noticed.

So, it was like you were together, in a way. The only differences being that it was through a screen and you didn’t have each other’s warmth at night.

Now, you were walking off of the ramp of the plane. It didn’t take you long to spot Ben at the front of the visitors waiting to reunite with the passengers disembarking. Ben had his arms open to greet you in a warm hug when you almost knocked him over after you basically ran to him. You placed a kiss on his lips at the same time.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed the feel of his lips until this moment.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, hugging you even tighter.

“I missed you too,” you said, this time pulling away. His smile made his eyes glow bright with genuine happiness. You couldn’t help but crash yourself back into his arms, burying your face into his chest.

Twisting back and forth slightly, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. The two of you stayed like this for a few more moments, just enjoying the feeling of being held by the other.

After finally pulling away, he relieved you of your carry-on and offered his arm to lead you out of the airport. Looping your arm through his, you also leaned against him as you walked.

The car trip was very short as his hotel was close. Not only that, the airport was pretty much in the middle of the city anyway. You had leaned against Ben’s shoulder in the taxi, only exchanging a few words as you wanted to savour his comfort for the first moments.

The door to his room was far down the hallway. If you were to be asked exactly what side of the hotel you were on, you wouldn’t be able to tell. Partially because your sense of direction wasn’t the best, but you were also just so excited that you hadn’t paid attention.

Pushing the door open, Ben had exposed the room that had a perfect view of the city’s skyline. The rest of the room was a generic one, Ben’s papers spread across the provided desk. Like he always did everywhere else, the bed was made as if he didn’t use it, which he probably didn’t, and the only other belongings showing was his suitcase beside a chest of drawers.

Your attention was directed to Ben as he placed your bag beside his, then made his way straight to you. Enveloping you in his arms, he placed a kiss to your forehead.

Looking up, you met Ben’s eyes with a gentle smile. You brought a hand up and placed it against his cheek, a ticklish sensation running up your arm from the thicker stubble that he hadn’t trimmed. It helped define his jaw and made him look more handsome.

“Ben,” you said in a discontented tone and dropped your hand to his chest.

“What?”

“You need to sleep properly,” you replied as you gestured towards the made bed with your head.

He looked to the floor with a sheepish grin, “It’s a little too fixed up, isn’t it?”

Humming in agreement, you chuckled a little at his now red cheeks. Even though it was something so little, he was still embarrassed. He never wanted you to be concerned about his well-being.

“Promise me that the desk won’t be your bed every night once I leave.”

As he looked into your eyes, he nodded, “Okay. I promise.” He rested his head against yours and you both stayed like this for a sweet, quiet moment.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence, “now that I’m here, what’s the plan?”

“What do you want to do?” he came back.

Pressing your lips to his briefly, you answered, “Shall we go for dinner then have some personal time afterwards?”

A smile grew on Ben’s face that gave his answer. Kissing you once more, he parted away from you to get ready.

Once Ben was ready, you were almost astonished when he didn’t grab a dress coat. The dress shirt he wore was a simple white with the cuffs rolled up past his elbows and the top few buttons were undone. The light was accented by his black slacks outlined with black shoes and belt. His formal side was paired with a casual one and it suited him well.

Not only that, but he was a lot more attractive. His thicker facial hair seemed to highlight the cerulean blues.

“You know,” you said as you stepped up to him and slid your hands over his chest, “you look really handsome like this.”

“Is that so?” he replied with a quirked eyebrow, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

You nodded as you continued to run your hands over his chest.

Then he leaned closer, “Well, this red dress highlights your beauty.”

As you felt heat rise in your cheeks, he pulled you against him and kissed you. You couldn’t help but melt into it.

“Darling,” he mumbled against your lips. Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes. “We should probably eat something.”

Before you could protest, your stomach grumbled in hunger.

Chuckling, Ben said, “Looks like you’re in agreeance.”

At the restaurant in the hotel, Ben ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you. While sipping from the fine drink, you held each other’s hand over the small table. The two of you spent the time catching up on the events you didn’t have time for over calls.

Even though the calls were technically long, the time to actually catch up was almost none. So, you both took this time to just enjoy the other’s company. After this weekend, you didn’t know when you would be in each other’s company next.

After dinner, you went straight back to the room. You clung to his arm tightly while walking through the entire hotel. The smell of his cologne, that you had only been able to smell on his side of the bed since he left, comforted you along with his familiar warmth.

It may have not been too long since he left, but it didn’t make you miss him less. You weren’t the only one who missed him either. You were, however, the only one that could go and see him. And you were enjoying every second of having his physical warmth right beside you and actually feeling his breathing.

Ben unlocked the room door, letting you go in first.

“It’s strange not having Boga and Cody running us over,” you joked.

“It is. I have another couple of weeks until I get to be barreled over by them,” he laughed. He took you into his arms and slowly swayed with you to silent music.

You let out a sigh of contentment as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He let out a sigh when you pressed a kiss to his neck, “What would you like to do tonight?”

“Would you be able to read? I missed your voice.”

He smiled when he looked down into your eyes. “Of course, love.”

“But,” you said playfully as you went up to kiss underneath his jaw, “there may be something else before we do.”

Dragging your hands around then up his torso, you slowly started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Once again, he sighed in pleasure as you exposed his chest.

Untucking the shirt, you let it hang open and frame his torso as you splayed your fingers through his chest hair. Slowly, you brought your hands under his shirt and dragged them to his back. As you did, you could feel as his heart had picked up speed.

Finally, you felt as he moved his hands up your back to your zipper. As he brought it down with one hand, he let the other graze your skin just after, sending chills through you. This only increased as he also brushed your straps from your shoulders. In turn, you brought your hands up so that you could push his shirt off.

Looking into his eyes, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You crashed your lips to his. He seemed to meet you with the same ferocity as he easily brought your body against his. The feeling of his skin against yours heightened your desire.

“Shall we,” Ben started to say between kisses, “make a mess of this bed.” His tone was mischievous as he slowly backed you towards it.

In the moment, you said something that would turn out to be a test run, “Obi-Wan, please.”

With your hand on his back still, you could feel as he slightly tensed, but his eyes glinted with something new. Something you could only assume as admiration. Something that made every touch of his feel more intimate than a week ago.

By the time the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, the remainder of both of your clothing was gone. Carefully, Ben helped you onto the bed and held himself over you.

“I love you, darling,” he said quietly, close to your lips.

“And I love you,” you paused. “Obi-Wan.”

He kissed you then.

-

After you both of your breathes calmed, you admired the sweat that seemed to make Ben glow. You loved it.

Then, you felt as he shifted. He had grabbed the book and his glasses that were on the bedside table. He must have done that before you even got here because he never did that while you were in the room.

Even though he wouldn’t read it on his own, he brought the book that you two were reading. He insisted on bringing it so that he could read to you over the phone. Unfortunately, he never had the time.

“Were you still wanting to read tonight?” he asked as he slipped his glasses on. You loved how he looked with his glasses on without a shirt.

Smiling up at him, you nodded.

Soon he had begun reading after wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

Ben rested the book on his thigh to keep it open. You helped him flip through the pages as he swiftly read through them. When you did, he would place a kiss to the top of your head.

Having your head resting against his chest, you listened to the vibrations of his voice. Occasionally, you would focus on listening to his heart, missing some of the words.

After some time, you noticed Ben’s words started to slur before he yawned. When you looked up, his eyelids were struggling to stay open. He tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle.

“Go to sleep, my love,” you said as you slipped the book from his grip. He quickly complied. As you placed the book on the table, you turned back and took his glasses off of his sleeping face.

Carefully, you moved him so that he wouldn’t be sitting up. When you did, he was curled in a way that you easily wrapped yourself in the middle of it. He tightened his arm around you and pulled you in tighter before you let yourself drift off to the sound of his steady breathing.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @where-fantasy-meets-reality @wintersoldiersthings @hopeladybug

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Okay what about going to the pumpkin patch and carving them with Calum

I can do that. Reader Insert. No gender or race. 

Halloween blurb night going until 8PM PDT. Writing for Shawn Mendes, 5sos, Harry Styles and FAHC. 

See the Halloween Blurb Night Masterlist. 

Enjoy my complete masterlist. 

_____________________

The air is crisp but not too cool as you sit out in the backyard. Your cup of tea is still steaming. Calum’s mug of coffee is creating small tufts of clouds as its own warmth escapes it into the cooler air. The beanie on Calum’s head is low and covers his forehead and ears as he stands, green bag in hand and tying it close. Duke trots up to the door that leads back inside. The thud of the garbage bin top hardly disrupts the call of the birds flying over head. 

“Halloween’s soon. Want to do something?” Calum asks after going inside to wash his hands and settling back down next to you. After the mugs are emptied, the two of you will take Duke for a walk and then the rest of the day will be all to yourself. 

You shrug. “Like should we throw a party?”

“Believe me when I say there are plenty of others that have that covered. But possibly a pumpkin carving? Just us? I dunno. Or a group if you want.”

“The patch in town’s probably got slim pickings now.”

“I know about one a little further out that Luke told me about. He and Sierra went to the one close by and said there wasn’t much left to it either.”

“I’d be down for a road trip,” you agree before taking another sip from your mug. The tea’s still warm enough that the moment it touches your tongue you recoil slightly. “Gagh!” you exclaim. 

Calum chuckles from next to you. “Patience, young grasshopper.” He digs in the tease by taking a pointed sip of coffee. 

“Curse your burnt nerve endings.”

Your walk with Duke is nice. Most of the neighborhood hasn’t waken up yet. It’s early and the sun’s hardly turned the sky a hazy pink to signal the start of the day. As Duke pulls a little on the leash, his nose dug brushing the base of a bush as if something is wrong, Calum makes a quip about being a better pumpkin carver than you. 

“That’s a lot of talk there,” you laugh, gazing up into the more normal sky. The sun’s climbed out more from the horizon, the sky it’s bright blue. “Put your money where your mouth is?” you asks. 

“You the betting type?”

“Against you, Hood? Any day of the week. But we need to find out who’s judging?”

“Poll on IG. Let the public decide,” Calum returns. 

“Fine by me.” The three of you soon start back up and then loop back around to the house. The scents are as new this time around as on the initial loop. Duke is content just to trot along. Back home, you shower and change. You find that it’s at least an hour and half drive so while Calum gets ready, you decide to put together a little basket with some snacks and something for lunch. 

“Having a picnic too?” Calum asks as he slips into his leather jacket, noticing the basket in your head. 

“Just some snacks. In case.”

He kisses the center of your forehead. “Snacks are always important.”

The two of you discuss what’s the best shape of pumpkin to get and what ideas you have. Though the conversation slowly fizzles out and the twinges of the guitars swell around you from the radio. Gazing out of the window you watch the buildings pass by you. It’s all stationary. All unmoving but somehow constantly moving forward too. And maybe that’s just you. Maybe that’s just you constantly moving forward and like from the window of the car it all seems to be moving with you. 

A hand settles into your knee and without thinking you wrap your fingers around Calum’s hand. His thumb brushes along the skin of your hands and it’s just comfort--that’s all you can describe it as as the world stays and you move and Calum rubs and your hand. 

Calum takes your hand as you walk into the patch itself. There are more pumpkins that you anticipated being left but you can still some haven’t weathered the test of time too well. Calum spies a pretty decent looking section and tugs on your hand before nodding in that direction. You follow behind him. Pausing him only once to show him the teeny tiny pumpkins. He laughs at the way you pout. 

“Go on. Grab one,” he encourages and you zip off to grab the most robust looking one of the tiny ones. It fits all too well in the grip of your curled palm and you finally come to the section Calum noticed. 

You turn over pumpkin, pressing inspecting them and trying to envision your design onto it. Calum goes off a little ways, not too far but he too is inspect his choices. You find one that’s tall enough to handle the idea you had for a little cartoon like ghost on the pumpkin and still have some width to it. Clutching your pumpkin close you set the tiny one on top and trot over to Calum, who’s crouched now, tracing over a pumpkin with his fingers. It looks like he’s spelling out something, but you can’t be sure.

“That’s a thinkin’ face if I ever seen one,” you tease. 

He looks up, the sun casting the perfect glow around you and the fly aways of your hair. “Yeah thinking of all the ways I can kick your ass carving this pumpkin.”

You scoff. “You don’t have a tiny one. Clearly, two pumpkins are better than one.”

He laughs. “Clearly.”

“Can we stop by a craft store too? I don’t think we have paints at the house and I have an idea that involves painting the tiny one.”

“Yeah, we can make a stop.” Calum places the pumpkin back onto it’s bottom and searches around for another moment. He spies another one that he thinks might be wide enough for his plan. He stands with a small grunt and throws a pointed finger up at you. “Not a peep.”

You roll your lips together to keep the snicker at bay and trot behind him as he carries on and squats yet again at another potential canvas of the squash variety. He traces again with his finger and you watch out over the patch to take in the sounds of some children and possibly teens laughing. Their smiles are big as they survey their pumpkin pickings. 

“Alright, you all set?”

“Been set,” you return still watching the young group pick up pumpkins to each the group. 

After paying for your pumpkins you set them into the trunk and Calum pulls out the basket. There are some benches right on the edge of the makeshift public lot and Calum suggest a small reprieve to munch on the snacks you packed. Though the food break is short, you enjoy taking the moment just to sneak jelly onto the tip of Calum’s nose. 

“Hey!” he calls out with a laugh. He scrunches his nose and face up when you stretch across and lick it off. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you taste like grape jelly.”

Back home, with pumpkin carving sets and paints spread out on the table in the backyard, and old newspapers from the local gas station covering the table, the two of you set out to cut open, deseed, and carve your pumpkins. You sit across from Calum and can only see the way his tongue peeks out from his lips as he takes the sharpie carefully over the ridges and bumps of the pumpkin. 

You cut open and pulled out the seeds to the big one but switched to painting your tiny pumpkin first so it could try while you wrestled with your actual carving. The little witches hat is perfect on the tiny one and you set it off the side before exhaling and turning to you big on. 

“Scared now? Got you shakin’ in your boots, I reckon. Going up against a professional.” Calum grins, driving the tiny saw into the rind. His sleeves that he previously rolled up are starting to slip. 

“You wish. I’m exhaling because I know you want to, but you’re too scared to show that I’m getting into your head.”

Calum pauses, eyebrow raised but you’ve turned attention back to your carving. And it’s true. You are in his head. But not the way you think and the shakes come back. They first started in the pumpkin patch. He was going to stick with you until you picked yours but he needed a moment to breathe. His plan would work. It would all work out. You two had been dating for three years at this point. You had moved in with him. You two had worked out so that you’d spend Christmas one year with your family and the other with his--but you always made sure on the years that you spent Christmas with your family, that you spend News Years with Joy and David in Australia. 

You coming home for the holidays, or Calum coming home with you weren’t even a point of discussion--in that it was a big deal. Everyone’s family just knew. Where one of you was, the other wouldn’t be far behind. And it all just fucking worked out. So this would too. 

You giggle to yourself, setting the tiny pumpkin into the tiny whole you made so that the hat lines up perfectly onto of your cartoon ghost who’s smiling and there’s a tiny speech bubble with “Trick or treat.” It’s such a silly design but you’re so proud of it, even if your finger are covered in black paint and smell like pumpkin guts. 

“Totally kicking your ass, Hood.”

He scoffs. “I doubt it.” He looks at his pumpkin. He couldn’t go with the full design--he needed two pumpkins he realized when he got the patch. He couldn’t get two big ones it would be too suspicious. But the tiny ring he might’ve butchered attempting to carve it with his lack of art skills but it’s not terrible. The question is still legible and that’s the most important. 

You put in a tiny tea light and watch the ghost flicker and hand one over to Calum too. “Done?”

“Not quite.”

“Okay. I’m just going to start cleaning up a little bit.” The newspaper holding the pumpkin guts is thankfully layered a few times so it doesn’t make a huge mess as you walk over to the garbage can. You take the hose to try and get the paint off but you efforts will work best with soap and water.  

As you settle back down at your side of the table you take a picture of it and watch the way Calum fidgets across from you. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Calum really is a do-or-die situation. He’s already got the pumpkin carved. He just needs to ask. “Not-nothing. It’s okay. I’m done now.” He looks up to you with a tiny smile. It wavers for a second but he continues on before you can ask again. “Reveal on the count of three.”

“Yeah. One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” you two say together and spin the pumpkins around. You hear Duke’s small bark and check for a second but he’s off in the corner tussling with one of his toys and your turn your attention back to the task at hand. 

As you turn back around there’s tiny ring box sitting next to Calum’s pumpkin. Open to a gold band. It’s ornate but still simple without being overly decorated with gems. Marry me? is carved into the pumpkin. You gasps looking up to find Calum and he’s hand settles onto your knees, bringing your attention to your side. The tears blur his face for just a moment. 

“I know you hate too much attention and even the thought of asking this in some stuffy overpriced restaurant wasn’t ideal for me either. But we’ve had a really great three years. And I love you. I don’t know how else to say it is. I want as many years with you as you’ll give me. So, will you marry me?”

You nod before your teeth, tongue and lips and push out the word, “Yes.” Once you can speak, you chant yes over and over even as Calum slips the ring onto your ring and you slip down out of your chair to burrow your face into his chest. “Oh my god, yes. I’d be so honored to marry you,” you exhale bringing your head up to gaze at him. “So, so honored.”

The kiss is soft and short and you both giggle into you. “My ghost pumpkin seems so stupid now.” 

“Your witch ghost is so cute. And thank you. For allowing me into your life.”

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Ch-6 Unforeseen

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? I took a nice break to get a grip on myself and it really worked wonders. So sorry for taking such a long time to get this out. I hope this will be worth the wait!💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 1890

Triggers: Mentions of murder

Rating: General

I am participating in this week’s @wackydrabbles​. The prompt for this week is “I meant every word.” and it will appear in bold.

CATCH UP HERE!

Sometimes Destiny, has a strange sense of humour,

When we think it is the end, it is usually just the beginning.

The four had just fallen asleep when sudden banging of the door woke them up. 

Ethan woke up abruptly. He saw how peacefully Pooja was sleeping. 

Ethan didn't want to wake her up. 

He got out of the bed and took a look at the clock. 

7 in the morning. 

It was pretty late as compared to his usual waking time. But after everything they did last night, they were tired as hell and hence it felt like they had slept not 4 hrs but 40 minutes. 

Yawning, he got to the door and was very, very, taken aback.

Standing by the door, was the Police.

"Officers, How may I help you?" Ethan inquired in a very professional tone.

"Dr Ramsey. Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour. We wanted some information." The police officer standing at the front informed.

Ethan let out a heavy sigh but knew better than to argue with them. So he acknowledged, "Please come in. People around will be concerned if they see the Police standing at my doorstep." He stepped aside to let them in. 

By the time, Mark, Alex and Pooja had also waken up due to the sounds and came out of their rooms. All three were surprised to see the Police.

The officers too, stopped short on seeing them. Their gazes stopped on Mark and Alex.

"Look who we have here." One of the officers implied to the other, pointing at Mark and Alex.

"Seems like our work here has become a lot easier."

"Excuse me, Officer, what exactly are you talking about? You stated you wanted information." Ethan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, we wanted information about the whereabouts of Dr Danvers and Dr Walton." The way the Officer emphasized whereabouts was enough for them to know that something was wrong.

"Officers, we are here. Tell us what you wanna know." Mark spoke before Ethan could say anything.

"Sure, Dr. Danvers. You have an awful amount of confidence for a criminal." The Officer scoffed.

This time it was Pooja who spoke. "Wait! What? No, No what? CRIMINALS?"

"Of course, Dr Sharma. Not just mere criminals, these two are Cold Blooded Murderers." The police officer grumbled.

"Officer, I am sure there has been some misunderstanding. They both were with us all the time. Lex, er, Dr Walton and me, we discovered the body together." Pooja tried to intervene.

"Oh yes, Dr. Sharma? Then how on Earth did the original key of the patient's room get into the office of MARK DANVERS?" The man shouted the last words.

"WHAT! How is that even possible? I didn't even know the real key of the room was missing until the body was discovered!" Mark replied in his defence.

"Save it, Dr. Danvers, Save it. Tell all you want to tell in the court. Besides, that is not the only proof we have. We have asked your neighbours about your whereabouts on the night of the murder. Some of them say you two returning late at night, and as per their description, that is just after the time of the murder.” 

“Also, while scanning Mr Davis's room, your fingerprints and a piece of paper with both of your names was found. When we questioned his colleagues, it was revealed to be his handwriting. He wrote in that way in a hurry. So, I guess that enough proof for us to arrest you two." The Police laid all the information in front of them.

"All this is BULLSHIT. We did not do anything like that. All this is a lie." Alex was on the verge of a breakdown. 

She made a motion to grab one of the officers' collar when Pooja grabbed her and stopped her from doing anything that would make matters worse.

"No Lex, you won't. Don't make matters worse, I beg you." Hearing Pooja's plea, Alex calmed down.

"Dr Mark Danvers, Dr Alexandra Walton, you both are under arrest. Kindly follow us." The police officer said in an almost ruthless voice. 

Alex was about to intervene, but Mark grabbed her hand. 

Ethan laid a hand on Mark's shoulder and assured, "We promise we will get you both out before they can present you before the court. We promise." 

Mark turned around, gave him and Pooja a one-armed hug. Alex too, hugged the both of them, and then the two went away, holding hands all the time.

After the Police had left, Ethan and Pooja sat down on the couch. Never had they imagined that this would be the beginning of their morning.

"How the freaking hell did this happen? They are innocent, we know they didn't do anything." Pooja was breaking down again.

"Yes, we know. And now we have to prove it. We need to find evidence that can free Mark and Alex up. Something which can prove their innocence. We need to check Miles Danvers's private clinic. That is our only hope." Ethan answered.

 The two of them hurriedly got dressed and set off to the second address. 

The address they had never checked.

It took a good 35 minutes took 3147, Rainy Day Drive. The day was cloudy and grey, and the street looked gloomy but less terrifying as compared to last night.

 Ethan let out a dry laugh and said, "One rainy day brings us to Rainy day drive." They looked around to locate the clinic. But where they arrived appeared so broken and messy that it was obvious that it had been through a lot.

Taking a look at the status of the place, and thought of Pooja's condition.

"Rookie," Ethan said.

"Hmm?"

"I am going in there."

"Of course. I am going in too. Wasn't that why we came here?" Pooja questioned, surprised why Ethan was stating the obvious.

"No, I said I am going in, not we, Poo."

"What the hell do you mean by that? You are trying to say that you are going to that place alone? Is this really the time to play jokes, E?" Pooja charged, angry and worried.

"I am not kidding, Poo. I meant every word."

He cupped her cheeks. 

"Rookie, please try to understand, okay? My priority is and will always be you. I can't let you get hurt in any way. I will go there first and check if everything is alright. If all is clear, I will send you a text. Then you can come in." Ethan tried to explain.

"And if everything is not clear?"

"Then I will search alone and keep you updated if I find anything."

"You mean that I should leave you alone in the fire?"

"Poo, I am just going to check. This place is so old, I don't think there will be any trouble in there. But I promised that I would protect you at any cost. See it just as me keeping my promise."

"But what if-"

"No, what-ifs. I am going. I will check and update you soon. Promise me you won't go in until I tell you too."

"But Et-"

"Promise?"

"Ethan, List-"

"Promise?"

"Fine, Promise. But in case you see any trouble, text me at that moment. I will come running."

"Promise, Rookie, Promise."

Before Pooja could say anything else, Ethan had already walked into the dilapidated building. So she had nothing else to do other than wait.

While waiting, Pooja tried to arrange all the information they had in her mind. She started surfing the web to know more about Mr Davis and the 2011 scam he had supposedly conducted. About 100 people had lost tons of money in that scam, and it was pointed out that since 2011, Mr Davis started living a rich life. He said it was from his inheritance of his dead uncle and a promotion, but now, it was obvious that it was all the money from the scam.

What a criminal! Only if he had got caught, maybe then all the hassle, worries and pain that entered their life without as much as a precaution, could have been avoided, Pooja grunted. Her heart grieved on remembering Mark and Alex. "They don't deserve this.", she thought.

She checked her phone and, Oh dear! Thirty minutes had passed by, but there was neither any text nor any sign of Ethan. She was worried sick. But she had promised, and Pooja had been known for keeping her promises. When she promised something, she always fulfilled it, no matter what. 

Suddenly her phone lighted up with a 'Ping!' making her aware of a new notification. She saw Ethan's name light up on her screen, and without even glancing at the text he had sent, she rushed into the ruptured clinic.

Once inside, she looked around. The place was dark, had a look of a horror house and smelt sickening. Pooja turned on the flashlight of her phone and began to look around. She sensed something was eerie. She presumed that the moment she would walk in, she would see Ethan.

But the place was soundless. Her heart thumped with panic.

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me? Ethan, please reply I-I am scared. ETHAN!" Pooja screeched but met with silence. Dismay and agony made her feel weak. She sat down on her knees and began weeping.

"Now is not the time to breakdown." Pooja thought to herself and urged her body to stand up. 

"Keep calm, Keep calm for Ethan." She reiterated the words in her mind like a prayer holding her up.

Suddenly, she recollected that she never checked the text Ethan sent. She opened Ethan's text, but it did not read "All clear".

It read, "MiD To."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? MiD, MiD, MiD..." Pooja thought harder and harder, overlooking everything, only focusing on the letters M.i.D.

"MiD, MiD... Oh, hell!" It struck her like lightning. "MiD is M-Miles Danvers. Oh my god!"

Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing jolted her out of her thought process and spread an alarm through her body. She hoped, desperately for it to be Ethan.

But she saw that it was an unknown number. Her first thought was to ignore it, but then she wondered, "What if, what if it is Ethan? Trying to reach her and tell her where he was?"

She acknowledged the call. "Hello?"

"Ahh!!" A hoarse voice uttered from the other end. "Dr Sharma, is it?"

"Who the hell are you? I don't have time for any of your shit." Pooja fumed.

"But you surely have time for Dr Ramsey, don't you?" The man implied with cruel amusement in his voice.

"What the-? How the hell-? Wait, are- are you Miles Danvers?"

The man let out a menacing chortle, more like a crackle of a witch. "Oh, yes! I am. And don't worry! Your dearest boyfriend is here, in my utmost care, and under my most watchful eye."

The humour in his voice went away, and a nerve chilling sinister voice revealed, "If you want to save him and your dearest best friends, come to the address I am sending you as soon as possible. Don't you dare ignore this call. Well, unless you want them to rot and die. Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha."

PS: If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead!

Tags (Please let me know if you like to be added or removed) :@bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey  @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage  @drariellevalentine @mvalentine ​ @aestheticartsx ​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers ​ @ao719 ​ @choicesstan1 @arnikki-2406 ​ @neotericthemis ​ @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight

[turtletimewriting]

Bonding

Summary: A soulmate au’s perspective on tickling! 

Note: A tickle fic if you couldn’t guess! Also, still somewhat new to writing for Sanders Sides so prepare for some shoddiness haha! 

_._._

Virgil woke up feeling his chest almost glowing with emotion. A warmth that settled in front of his ribs that made his eyes flutter open and a smile naturally curl on to his face. The quiet warmth tried its hardest to lull him into sleep again but his slowly wakening mind was starting to ask questions. What were the others doing that meant they was radiating with happiness? 

He had stumbled upon his soulmates just a little under sixth months ago. Tracking down soulmates had always felt like an impossible task. Hell, it took years before he even realised that he had three of them! Feeling their emotions obviously doesn’t make them easy to find- he could be having the happiest day of his life but that wouldn’t mean he’d be dancing down the streets or smiling proudly. He had found Patton first. He suspected him when they were partnered together for a project at work. The sinking heavy feeling in his chest to the rapid glow of excitement matched Patton’s expression when the project was announced and then when he realised that Virgil was his partner. Thankfully, Patton had found his other soulmates and so saved Virgil the heart attacks of trying to find the others. 

Virgil slowly and quietly crept out of their guest bedroom and peered through the stairs. He wasn’t surprised by the sight of them all piled on top of each other, like a bunch of spilt over kittens, it was a familiar sight. The surprise was the frantic laughter. 

Logan’s laugh was distinct. It was somehow both squeaky but also bellowing loud. Like he was throwing his whole self into his laugh. Roman was laying across him and was giving him the most sickening love sick eyes to his upturned laughing face. Roman’s hands were squeezing his sides leisurely, squeezing  followed by quick poking. Patton was lying underneath Logan but his hands still had access to his armpits and occasionally his neck. 

“Rohohoho-Romaaaaanahahaha!” He uselessly cried out but his flailing hands never seemed to push Roman away. Patton never even faced any opposition. He was free to tickle away at whatever was free to him. 

“What, Specs? I’m right here! No need to yell, what do you want?” 

“I bet he needs some more tickles! Look! He’s not even blushing that much, he definitely needs some more tickly tickly tickles!” Patton squeaked with his own giggles escaping. 

“No no nahaa! Hahahaha, tickleeeeehehehehahahaha!” 

“So what’s going on here?” Virgil smirked as he dramatically leaned over the stair banister as he menacingly tapped his fingers. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh when all three heads immediately whipped round to face him. 

That laugh quickly died though when he felt that warmth in his chest freeze over. It was now sharp and settled into a dull ache. Three sets of dread, fear and worry. 

“Woah, wait. I didn't interrupt anything did I?”

“No! We just didn't expect you to be up yet,” Patton chuckled as he looked over at the others.

“Yeah! You’re up! Like, before ten o’ clock? I’m honestly impressed!” Roman gasped as he flounced off the sofa and approached him. “What’s the special occasion? Big plans for the day?” 

“Roman,” Logan warned as he sat back up while scrubbing at his mused up hair. His face burned red already but he felt extra squirmy at the thought to having this conversation without any planning or prep. They were going to have this conversation at some point! When Logan had carefully constructed a script! But he had to do it now. He could feel Virgil’s anxiety. The familiar burn had erupted into an all consuming fire. If they tried to hide this away then Virgil would only just spiral. 

All this worry caused by tickling. This was just illogical. 

“Virgil, don’t worry. I... have a particular fondness for t-tic... tickling. For some unknown reason!” Logan grimaced as he spoke, that was immediately unclear, unspecific and defensive. His mind scrambled for more words before reviewing them, “But, Patton and Roman also revealed that they shared this fondness and so it’s been present within our relationship for a while,” 

“Oh,” Virgil hummed with a sickly sweet tone. His own thoughts racing with a small glow of anticipating excitement. 

“We didn’t hide it from you for any reason! We just know that some people can find this weird... We know you wanted to go slow,” Patton smiled as he stood up and walked up to Virgil. He gently held his hands. 

“You all shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry that you felt the need to hide that! You shouldn’t have to hide parts of yo-”

“No! Virgil, none of us are wording this adequately. We were embarrassed, yes. And that’s why we hid this. Not because we didn’t trust you or because you gave us reason not to. This is a problem on us. Not you.” 

“Ok. Ok, thanks for telling me that. Even though I kinda just walked into it. I-I don’t have a problem with... that.” Virgil hinted.

The room seemed to stop as they all took a deeper breath. Virgil’s fiery intense anxiety settled back into a smaller burn like normal. The others’ emotions had settled back into a normal neutral presence. 

“So... does this mean you want to help us tickle Logan to pieces?” Roman cheered. 

Logan squeaked but sat still as Virgil rigidly sat down beside him. He slowly reached his hands out as if Logan was going to flinch away but seeing no complaints... Virgil broke out into an evil smirk. 

That same rigid worry wasn’t present at all the second his hands reached his ribs. Logan didn’t have much time to think about that though as Roman quickly followed his lead. Virgil skittering all over his ribs and Roman’s squeezing thigh tickles only felt all the worse when Patton’s whispered teases joined the lot. 

After thoroughly tickling Logan to pieces, the others got up to finally start breakfast while Logan was left frantically giggling on the sofa. The others were practically glowing with the brand new intense warmth and happiness nestling in their chests. “So is Logan the only lee?” Virgil asked as he finally sat down at the table. 

“Oh, I think we all tend to switch,” Roman responded without too much thought but the other two had frozen in their tasks. 

“Wait, you know what a lee is!” Patton squealed. Logan himself was standing with his own powerful evil smirk. Virgil was now frozen himself. He wanted to hint at just how fine he was with their... fondness. But he never wanted to outright say it!

“Uh...” 

“Unless you absolutely don’t want this, I would encourage you to flee,” Logan smirked before running up to the table. 

“Too late!” Roman cheered as he caught Virgil round his middle before he could even flee from the table. His immediately curled his fingers into his sides. Smiling wider when Virgil’s excited anticipation blossom in chest. Excitement! Logan leaned down at them and tauntingly raised his wiggling fingers to Virgil’s tummy. 

Once they touched down, Virgil tried his best to school his expression into something resembling nonchalance. But... it had been awhile since he was last tickled and he had forgotten what it felt like. He immediately squealed and so the dam broke instantly. Logan’s fingers danced gracefully over his tummy leaving trails of tickly tingles. It felt like the longer he tickled, the more tickles Virgil had to just take. 

“Logaahahahaha! Ahahehehehaahaha! Rohohoahahahaha!” Virgil simply folded in half as if that would protect his tickly tummy but Roman kept him balanced upright. 

“Aww Virgie-poo! Are you a little lee yourself? A little tickle craving lee! Oh, if only we knew earlier! You deserve all the tickles you can take! All of the tickly tickly tickles! Soft tickles, hard tickles, feather tickles, tummy tickles...” Patton cooed from the kitchen while keeping an eye on the eggs. What, someone has to be responsible and make breakfast! 

Virgil had yet to put on his make up and so his blush was on full display. His rarely heard laugh rang and echoed through the house. But his laughter had a wheezy quality. Plus, he was barely awake as it was. They couldn’t really tickle him for long. 

“How about this! If you admit where you fit into the tickle community, we’ll free you!” Roman cooed as he pulled Virgil into his lap as he sat down himself. Logan caught on and slowed his tickling down to simple tracing around his belly button through his pyjama shirt. Like he was playing a silent game of round and round the garden. 

“Eheheheeeee! Noooooo!” Virgil now started to flail but he knew that no judgement would come from his newly revealed switch boyfriends, “Ehehahahaha, I’mmmahehehehe a leeeee I think hehehehe!” 

And it was since that morning that their relationship evolved to be a lot more tickly. 

The switch comment Roman had made was quickly debunked. Patton and Logan were typically the lers of the household with Roman and Virgil lees for most of the time. Logan and Patton were both comfortably switches but they were more often than not the ticklers thanks to how tickle hungry Roman and Virgil typically were. Not that Virgil and Roman didn’t get their fair share of revenge! But... it was usually them who would start not so obviously hinting for tickles. 

But their soul link and their new tickling was going to drive Virgil insane.

If he felt his chest explode in playful dancing warmth then he knew that he should run and hide. That special feeling belonged to Patton alone. For when he was in the most evil tickle monster mode. Any time he felt that emotion, it would soon be followed by someone’s frantic bursting laughter. Sometimes it lingered until Patton would give in and hunt someone. Sometimes it would erupt suddenly. Like if he saw Virgil standing on his tip toes with his arms outstretched to reach the highest cupboard. Or if he saw Logan sitting with his feet resting on the coffee table which no one was allowed to have their feet on. Both times, neither one could react to the emotion quick enough before they felt the tickle attack. 

He was walking home while failing to hide his wobbly smiley. That same playfulness had been shining for the past half an hour. And none of the others were home. 

Meaning Virgil was walking home to a frustrated Ler who’s been wanting to tickle someone for the past half an hour...

And Patton famously preferred to tickle Virgil.

Even just that soul link emotion was enough to have Virgil practically giggling down the streets. That feeling was becoming worse than any whispered tickly teases. He couldn’t school his expression so this was made all the worse because that meant Patton and the others could also feel that Virgil was in a lee mood. Virgil’s excited anticipating lee moods felt like a mix between his anxious burn and the most joyous warmth. The others were all smiling knowing that his lee mood started shortly after Patton’s ler mood started. 

Patton had harnessed all the patience in the world to stop himself from immediately attacking Virgil as he walked in. He waited carefully ducked behind the living room door and as his lee walked through with a confused frown. Then he struck! 

“Pat? I’m back- oh goaahhahahahahahAHAHAAAA!” Patton’s hands latched on to his sides to then guide him to the sofa. 

“Hey Virge! Sorry but Patton’s not here right now, guess who’s here in his place though?” 

“PAAAATTON! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! No! You’reeehahahAHAHAA you’re ahaha! You’re not ahahahahaha! Patton!” Virgil threw his head back once he was sat on the sofa. Patton was now just holding his sides with a teasy grin! The gentle pressure enough to spark endless giggles. 

“No guesses? I’m not who? You can’t even say my name? My name is...” Patton leaned down close and Virgil flinched anticipating neck tickles, “My name is the tickle monster!” 

In a flash, he turned around to Virgil’s socked feet. His ultimate tickle spot! And boy did it look like they needed some good old tickles after such a long day at work. 

Virgil desperately curled up but was blocked by Patton’s back. It almost looked like Virgil was cuddling into him as thanks for the tickle monster’s tickles scuttling over his soles. Patton was just tickling over his socks but it felt just as bad as bare soles. 

“PAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA! NOOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Roman and Logan had to spend the next hour awkwardly avoiding their co-workers questions about their own proud wobbly smiles. Their soul link was bursting with such joyful happiness. 

[supernatural---imagines]

Girlfriend- Part 9: Family

Series summary: Sam’s suspicious behaviour has you and Dean curious enough to follow him, to find out he is meeting with a Demon in secret leaves you both in shock. Based on S4 demon blood story line with a darker ending.

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam x Ruby, Sam x Reader (Platonic)

Chapter summary: Your final chance to bring Sam home. Everything seems to be going well but nothing is easy for this family. Lots of reader x Sam platonic fluff and some Dean x Reader smut (between * if you want to avoid!).

MASTERLIST

“DEAN!” You yelled as desperation filled your body at the thought of your better half being in danger. You squirmed on your bale and looked at Sam with anguish.

“I’ll check it out." Sam spoke, just how he used to when you heard a scream on a case back in the day. He was flicking back and forward from this monster to your best friend and it was messing with your head more than you’d like.

"Sammy, please, if there's any part of you in there that is still human, still my best friend and still his brother.. you’ll un-cuff me." You begged. Your body wept but there was no tears left in you to cry, your eyes pleaded with Sam. You watched as he turned away from you and the last piece of hope you had left in the man crumbled as he walked through the doorway and left you cuffed. It had only been a few seconds, but there was still no sound, which was worrying. 

You hauled yourself up off the bale and with your hands still pinned behind your back you jogged as fast as you could through the door way. It simply led to an extension of the hayloft and there was some old small farm equipment up there. Some horse harnesses, shovels, but the floor space wouldn’t allow for anything larger, it couldn't have been wider than three feet. Your eyes caught Sam who was peering over the ledge, jaw slack. You rushed to him and followed his line of sight which landed upon the 15 foot drop beneath your feet and your boyfriend and the demon both laying on the hard barn floor unconscious.

“Dean!!” You yelled his name hoping your voice would waken him, but not even a groan, he was out cold. You observed his body top to bottom,  you couldn’t see any bullet wound. The gunshot hadn’t hit him.

“Sam help him!” You demanded. Sam’s eyes flicked between you and the two lifeless bodies on the floor below a couple of times, before he sighed and began to climb over the side of the ledge. He lowered his body down and dangled before dropping, the height of him almost halving the drop, the demon blood probably keeping him safe regardless. He put his arms up for you, implying that he would catch you if you jumped. You were caught off guard, maybe your speech before had gotten to him, or maybe it was all part of the plan to trust him, or maybe even he’d have you jump and not catch you at all. But Dean was laying on the cold, hard ground still not conscious and he needed you.

You got down on your knees and shimmied over to the edge, Sam waved his hands encouraging you to hurry up. You lay on your stomach and began to slip your body over the edge, trying to inch your way over as slow as possible to prepare yourself mentally for the drop. You moved along a centimetre more and caught yourself off guard as you had knocked your balance off and you were about to drop, you panicked in the last second and tried to scramble back up.

“It’s OK. I’ll catch you. I would never let you fall.” Sam said in the softest tone, taking you right back to a year ago when everything was normal. Those were the exact words he had said to you on a poltergeist case that you both worked in New York. An apartment building was showing signs of a haunting and you both went to check it out. You had broken in to an apartment to check for any emf  when the owner came home pissed with a shotgun. You and Sam clambered down the fire escape but it came to an end suddenly and you had to jump down to the ground floor. Those were the words that put the trust in you that no matter what happened to you, Sam would always catch you. It was a moment you knew you had something real with the brothers, that you belonged and you were all a team.. a family. 

You closed your eyes, your mind a mess of emotion and not knowing what to think anymore. You took a deep breath in and launched your body off the edge, landing into Sam’s arms with a huge sigh of relief. He set you down gently and held the joint of your cuffs, with a squeeze he snapped them, leaving your hands free to move with a single cuff around each. The shock of his incredible strength didn’t have time to impact you as you ran to your boyfriend and dropped to your knees, patting his chest and calling his name. Sam rushed to Ruby, but as soon as he landed at her side his eyes were still fixated on his brother. He realised pretty quickly that Ruby was no longer in her meatsuit, and he stood up and towered over your shoulder as you tried to wake Dean up. 

“Y/N?” Dean opened one eye while slowly starting to sit up, you guided him up slowly and pulled him into your arms. He dropped his weight on to your shoulder and gripped you tight. You pulled him back up to look at him and his lips landed on yours. 

“What the hell happened?” You asked as you broke away. 

“That bitch tried to kill me. We fought, we fell, she hit me on the head and the last thing I saw before the lights went out was her smoking out.” Dean explained. You stood up and helped Dean up, keeping your hand securely in his as you stood side by side. The brothers looked at each other, the tension in the air was thick. 

“So you gonna drain me, baby brother?” Dean asked cocking his head to the side. He asked the question with confidence but he was so afraid of the answer. Sam stared back, his faced winced as he thought which gave you the opportunity to try and reason once more Sam. 

“You said you’d never let me fall Sam, and you never did. You caught me every time. How can you not see how far you have fallen? You wont let us catch you. Ruby is only pushing you down farther Sam, please believe me. And let me catch you for once.” You took a step closer to him, Dean’s hand still holding yours tightly. You reached your free hand out to him and searched into his eyes. They softened, a layer of tears glazing over them indicating that there was still human in there, and he did want to come home. 

“Be my brother again. I need you” Dean followed your tactics and his words sunk Sam, the tears finally escaping his eyes as he began to walk towards you both, his hand reaching to yours as a wave of relief rushed over you. Dean beamed from ear to ear as his brother finally gave in. Your moment was interrupted as black smoke trailed through the barn and landed in the limp body of Ruby. Her eyes flicked black as she came to and she stood up, rushing to Sam who stepped back and took his hand away sharply. 

“We have 5 minutes, I smoked out, got us a body to drain.. two if you count the one I rode over here. They’re in the car, lets go! These assholes are too much trouble.” She tugged on Sam’s arm leading him to the exit. 

“Don’t” He pulled back slightly, but he was unsure. You nodded your head at him for assurance. Ruby’s face turned and she snapped round to you and Dean. She raised her hand up to you, ready to harm you. You braced yourself for the impact when instead she began to choke. 

“Stop it now, Sam!” She yelled, holding her throat. Sam had his hand raised at her and his face was sad as he concentrated is energy on his lover. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with them!” She spat out between coughs. Sam’s performance slowed as he looked at her, hurt and confusion over his face. 

“Sam, don’t do this. They’re manipulating you. They don’t care about you.” She caught her breath as his torture briefly halted.

“We have always cared about you. I’m your flesh and blood, I’d die for you. Don’t listen to her” Dean’s voice cracked. He thought he had Sam back, but he was now realising that he could be snatched away again just as quickly. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Sam cried, he looked at you both trying to scramble his brain for a decision but comping up empty repeatedly.

“Do you remember the day I met you both?” You asked Sam.

“What?” He asked confused.

“Do you?” You repeated yourself. 

“Um.. yeah.” He sighed.  

“Your brother was hitting on me the whole time” You smiled fondly remembering the old days as Dean squeezed your hand. “And you were telling him, hey don’t scare this one away please.” Sam fondly scoffed at the memory. “But that night, do you remember what you told me?” 

“I don’t remember..” He spoke shyly, almost upset that he couldn’t recall. 

“You told me how he looked after you, and what kind of man he was.” You reminded him. 

“I remember.. I told you that I knew I could trust you because Dean said I could, and he was never wrong about that” He recalled. “I also told you to give him a chance because he might act like a flirty jackass but he’s the best man I know.” 

Ruby’s face was reclaimed by desperation as she saw herself losing Sam in front of her eyes. “They’re lying to you!” She screamed from her spot where Sam had her stuck. 

“Shut up!” He yelled, finally making his decision. He raised his hand and closed his eyes. They flicked black as he focused all his strength on her, her body freezing up and as her eyes began to bleed and her smoke came pouring out of her body. Dean looked away, refusing to see his brother with black eyes. Ruby dropped lifeless to the floor and Sam pushed his breath out, before looking back to you and Dean for instruction on what to do next. 

“Let’s go home.” You smiled. 

- 

“Let’s get you inside, boy.” Bobby grumbled with a smile as he led Sam into his house after a brief reunion. He brought him to the panic room to detox, and Sam didn’t protest, he knew what he had to do to be part of the family again. 

You went upstairs to Bobby’s spare room and landed on the bed with a beam from ear to ear. The crook of your elbow covered your eyes as you basked in the win of today, the win you never thought was coming. Dean slipped into the room quietly, admired you laying on the bed with your shirt slightly tugged up revealing part of your stomach. You moved your arm to look at him. His expression matched yours as he kicked off his boots and dived on top of you. You busted into laughter as the bed dipped and creaked with his weight and he rolled you over so your body was on top of his. He kissed the top of your nose delicately before you rested your head on him as he held you securely. 

“I can never, ever explain to you what you’ve done today. You brought him home” Dean cuddled you tightly as he spoke, his stubbly jaw resting against your hair as you were pressed tightly to his chest. 

“We both did” 

“No, Y/N. You did.” He placed a kiss to your head and you smiled into him. “And I’m not doing anything now, and I don’t know when I will. I don’t gotta ring or anything. But I just want you to know that I want to spend my life with you, you’ll be a Winchester one day.” 

Your heart began to pound in your chest, and your eyes welled up, for the first time in a long time from happiness. You looked up to your boyfriend, his gorgeous smile lighting up his face and consuming his eyes like it used to.

“You mean that?” You breathed. He pressed his lips to yours answering you without words. His feelings transcended through his body to yours as he began to run his hands over you and show you how he really feels. 

* 

The passion in his movements as he rolled on top of you began to heat up. He softly stroked your face with his hand as his lips sunk onto yours, tongues exploring each other. He grinded onto you, you could already feel his hardness through his jeans. Your hand wandered down to between his legs and caressed his boner through the denim. He moaned into your mouth and with a smile you broke the kiss and rolled him off you. 

You slid down his body and began to unbuckle his jeans. His dick bulged out and you licked your lips, seeing the pre-cum already dripping through his grey boxers. You looked into his eyes with a smirk and tugged them down, licking your hand before you began to stroke his cock gently. He rested his head back on the pillow as you began to kiss his tip, swirling your tongue around his head and mopping up the dripping pre-cum. You took him in your mouth and began to work up and down his length. As you sucked he grabbed a fist full of your hair, guiding you along just how he liked. He began to pump his hips into your mouth reaching your throat, provoking a gag from you. 

“Y/N...” he groaned your name in please as you took back control, working your hand at the base at the same time as you sucked him off. Your other hand traced up his leg and found his balls, gently caressing them as he started to squirm, begging to reach his orgasm. 

“I’m gonna-” He pushed your head down once more at his desired pace as you pushed him over the edge, his cum filling your mouth. You swallowed it down and regained your breath before crawling back up to the top of the bed to be beside him once more. 

* 

“Thank you, baby” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you back into his chest. He kicked his jeans off from around his ankles and tugged his boxers back up, then drew the covers over you both and squeezing you tight. 

“I love you so damn much” he whispered.

 - 

“DEAN! Y/N!” Bobby busted into the bedroom in the morning before the sun had risen. 

“Jesus, Bobby” Dean screwed up his face as he sat up in bed, looking at the panicked man in the door way. 

“It’s Sam. He’s gone.”

[anythingandeverything1d]

Plum Sized

Part 1: Congratulations Part 2: Im having your baby

The next few weeks had gone by in a blur. Harry had left again to do some more writing, promising he would be back for your next ultrasound and doctors appointment. Luke was still getting over the fact that you had just let Harry back into your life like that, but since Harry hadn't really been around much he was warming back up to the idea a little bit more and had started coming over more, specifically in the mornings which had been really hard for you. You had woken up every morning with extreme morning sickness. You couldn't eat for hours, you felt dizzy and threw up multiple times. Certain smells and foods just made you want to vomit at the thought. 

You were laying in bed trying to avoid throwing up when Luke walked in with a smile. “Morning beautiful, figured you might still be sick and in bed so I brought you a smoothie. Shouldn't have any weird smells or anything so I thought it might be worth a shot.” He handed you a large smoothie and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing?”

You took the smoothie and thanked him before taking a small sip. It actually tasted amazing and nothing about it so far had made you sick so that was a big plus. “Not too bad....still just so nauseous. I mean the sight of food, the idea of food, it all just makes my stomach turn. I’m also just getting nervous about the appointment. I have to have my blood drawn and then we will probably find out the gender from that and of course it’s Harry’s first time going to an appointment so thats extra pressure because well because its Harry.” you sighed taking another sip and sitting up.

Luke nodded. “Have you heard much from him recently?”

“No...he’s been busy writing I think.” You bit your lip. Truth is after Harry had spent the night, he had waken up and left. You had hoped there might be something left to reconcile but he was really only interested in the baby. He had left the following afternoon even though you had asked him to stay. All you wanted was for him to actually step up, to be there for you the way he said he wanted to be. “He should be coming here tonight so that he doesn't miss the appointment..”

“Well I hope for your sake he does.”

“I’m sure he will but anyways lets talk about something else. What have you been up to? What’s new in your life?”

“Uh not a lot...I do have a date tomorrow though.”

“A DATE?!”

Luke laughed and grinned, “Yeah I met this girl, her name is Kayla and well we really hit it off so I’m taking her out tomorrow for a fun picnic lunch date. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“Im sure it will be, you plan the best dates. So where did the two of you meet?” you played with the styrofoam cup your smoothie was in distractedly as went on about meeting Kayla at a gas station. You wished Harry would plan cute dates, and care more about everything. You wished he would text you good morning and good night or check in throughout the day. You wanted more from a relationship but at the same time...you really only wanted Harry. It was a hard place to be in at the moment. Just thinking about it and how frustrated you were with him made you tear up. You wiped a tear and noticed Luke was looking at you weirdly. “Sorry what?”

“I asked if you were okay....you seem. I don't know...not okay?”

You laughed and wiped another tear away. “Yeah, I’m fine just been thinking.”

He nodded unsure but was willing to let it go for your sake. “Well I have to go get ready for work, but enjoy the smoothie and text me later to let me know you are okay and all good. Promise?”

“Promise. Thank you for the smoothie..You really are the best friend a girl could have.”

“I try” he squeezed your hand and then walked out, leaving you to your thoughts.

After a few hours of lounging around you decided to get up and be productive. You threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt and froze when you looked in the mirror. Your stomach had definitely grown, and a small baby bump was definitely visible. You light touched your stomach and smiled. It was all startling to feel real. You got to work, cleaning almost every room of your house and by the end everything was spotless and beautiful. You felt good. There was just something about a clean house that cleared your mind. It was almost 4:00 pm by the time everything was finished and you still hadn't heard from Harry. He was supposed to come home tonight so that he could take you to your appointment in the morning. *Hey, how's writing going? Think youre going to make it home for the appointment tomorrow?* you texted him. You sat waiting for a reply but when it didnt immediately come you decided to start on dinner. Tonight you were going to be making spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, nothing too fancy but still delicious. You were boiling the water and buttering bread when your phone buzzed. Harry’s face was on the screen so you quickly answered it. “Hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey love, look I’m in the middle of a song right now and I don't want to stop so I don't think I’m going to make it tomorrow.”

Your heart sank and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “But Harry this is a really important appointment. This is where we-”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be at the next one I swear.”

You didn’t even answer, just hung up the phone and went back to cooking. The whole night was spent thinking about Harry. How couldn't he want to be there? Why was writing more important than his family? Did he even care at all? You were frustrated, upset, hurt, and confused. None of it made sense. Harry always said that he wanted kids and he wanted to be the dad that was there at every moment. Yet here he was not even caring to show up and you were done with it. *Good luck writing. Don't bother in calling me anymore I think our baby will be better off without you in its life* you know it was a long shot, something meant to dig at him but you didnt care. You were done with letting Harry hurt you again. You were sitting on the floor crying when Luke walked in carrying two suits. 

“Hey which should I wear- Are you okay?” he immediately knelt down, dropping the suits and rubbing your shoulders. “(y/n) are you okay?” You shook your head no. Luke got more worried. He tried scooping you into his arms. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“No.” you wiped your face and let out a shaky breath. “I think I just broke up with Harry again.”

Luke froze trying to decide what to say. He decided to play it safe, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, its not mine, its his. He just doesn't care.”

“He will one day, it just sucks he doesn't realize it now.” you nodded leaning into him. “So youre going alone tomorrow?”

You nodded again. “I’ll be okay.”

He sighed, “no. You shouldn't go through all of this alone. I’ll go. I’ll take you.”

“But your date..”

“I’ll reschedule. I have a friend in need.” You smiled and wiped your tears. 

“Can I still pick out the outfit you wear?” Luke laughed and nodded standing up and then pulling you to your feet.

“Of course.” He looked at you and gave you a look.

“What?”

“Your belly...its like actually bigger.”

“Well I do have a baby inside me that grows everyday.” You laughed. “Today, at 12 weeks, the baby is the size of a plum.”

“A plum? How do you know that?”

“I have an app that tells me its size according to fruits every week.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “A plum. Who would've guessed.”

You laughed instantly feeling better. You held up the two suits and smiled. “The grey one. It brings out your eyes.” You smiled and handed it to him.

“That was a quick decision.”

“I’ve been your friend for forever. I know what you look good in.”

The rest of the night was spent lounging around. Luke had gone home, promising to pick you up for your appointment and you still hadn't gotten a response from Harry. You weren't really expecting one, but you had hoped he would say something. You decided turning in early was a good idea so you threw on Harry’s old t-shirt, the one you slept in every night and jumped into bed. You were exhausted so falling asleep was easy. You had awoken to the sound of the door opening. You laid in bed listening for other sounds but didnt hear anything. You covered your head with the blanket and tried thinking to if you had imagined it or not. Then you heard footsteps walking up the stairs. You panicked. You didnt know what to do. You grabbed your phone and looked for something you could attack an intruder with. The footsteps were getting closer and your heart was racing. The door opened and you were ready to dial 911. “(y/n)?” Harry’s voice whispered. You breathed out and turned on a light next to the bed.

“Harry what the hell!” you screamed. “I thought you were a robber or murderer or something. You cant do that!”

Harry walked in and smiled holding out a giant bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry...I didnt mean to scare you but I also didnt want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“What are you doing here.” 

He sighed and walked to the bed sitting down next to you on the edge. “I came to apologize. I haven't been a good dad lately. I haven't even been good to you. I got so distracted trying to please the fans with this next album that I was forgetting what's more important. My family. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I promised you I would be here and be present and then I wasnt but this time I will be. I want to be there for you. I want to be there for this little one.” He touched your belly and smiled. “Im done writing for now. At least leaving to write. I want to be here, with you, as much as possible. I want us to work on whatever this is and to experience all the baby stuff together.”

“Harry-”

“Please (y/n)....give me one more chance...I promise not to screw it up.” He placed his head down by your stomach and your fingers immediately went to his hair. You sighed and he looked up.

“Fine. One more chance but if you screw this up Harry you won't be in my life or the baby’s.”

“Trust me love, I won't screw it up again.” He kissed your forehead and set the flowers on the nightstand. He then stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He pulled you against his chest and trailed fingers down your belly. “Did you know that the baby is the size of a plum today. Like an actual plum, isn't that crazy?” 

You laughed and turned towards him. You touched your nose to his and smiled. He kissed you softly and smiled back. “I’m glad youre here Haz” you snuggled into him and he held on tightly.

“Me too.” He rubbed your back until you fell asleep and part of you expected him to be gone when you woke up. Just a dream. An imagination. But when your alarm went off and your eyes opened, you were snuggled against his chest, his body gently snoring like the angel he was. You rolled over and snoozed the alarm before returning to him. You traced his butterfly tattoo until he cracked his eyes open with a smile. “Morning.” he whispered deeply.

“Morning.” you smiled before climbing out of bed. 

“Where are you going” he groaned sitting up in the white comforter. “Im exhausted...cant we stay in bed a little longer.”

You walked over to his side, knelt down and kissed his nose. “We have an appointment so get up and get ready.” You smiled and stretched. Harry jumped out of bed and froze watching you. “Whats wrong?”

“Your belly...I can actually see the plum size. That is so cool.” “Wait until you see the baby at the appointment.” you smiled walking into his embrace. “We should be able to see actual features today. It won't be just a blob anymore.”

You were getting ready and so was Harry, except he was pretty much done. He was in his black skinny jeans, a tshirt and a sweater vest. “Do I look like a dad?”

You laughed and nodded. “You look like a hot dad though.” He grinned and kissed you about to respond when the doorbell rang. “Can you get that, its probably Luke.”

“Luke?” 

“Yeah he's coming today too.”

“Great...” Harry mumbled walking downstairs to answer the door. You finished throwing your hair in a pony tail and picked one of Harry’s smaller shirts, the one with his album title along a heart with his name, before running downstairs. Luke and Harry were just staring, no glaring at each other. 

“Hey” you smiled hugging Luke. “Ready to go?” Harry and Luke nodded and you followed them outside. 

“Whats the deal?” Luke harshly whispered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. 

“What?” you played innocently.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s the dad Luke..”

“Yeah but I thought you were done with him.”

“I was...but I feel like I owe it to the baby to give him another chance. He showed up last night and promised to be here. I’m not just going to say no Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes and you pulled your arm from his grip to catch up to Harry. He smiled and grabbed your hand. “Ready to see our little baby love?”

You nodded and climbed into the car. Harry decided he wanted to drive so Luke jumped in the backseat. The car ride there was silent, no one really talking but when we got to the waiting room you told Harry to check you in so you could run to the bathroom. The nurse was waiting with the two guys and you followed her in. She retook your weight, stating that you had gained a little which was normal. She then took all three of you into a room where you changed into a gown and waited. Harry was anxiously pacing the room and Luke was just glaring at Harry when the doctor walked in. “(y/n) so nice to see you again, are you ready to see the baby?” You nodded as he looked to the two guys. “Who do we have here today?” he asked. Harry stepped forward and extended his hand. 

“I’m Harry, its a pleasure to meet you.” he smiled and gave you a reassuring wink. 

“Harry is the dad.” you added looking at the doctor. He nodded and smiled.

“Its nice to meet you Harry. And you?” he looked over at Luke. 

“Oh, I’m Luke. I’m (y/n)’s friend.” 

“Nice to meet you too. Alright lets see what we got here. He turned the lights lower and squirted the cold gel on your stomach earning a surprised look from Harry which made you laugh. “Have you been having any symptoms?”

“Yeah I’ve had morning sickness quite a bit lately.”

“Ah, thats a normal but unfortunate one.” He was scrolling around your stomach looking for the baby. “Has it been manageable?”

“Yeah its not been too terrible, I’m still feeling good most of the day.”

“Good thats what we want. Ah here it is...” Harry grabbed your hand and smiled looking at the screen. “So you can see here is the head, the butt, an arm, a leg, everything seems to be there. Let’s see if we cant get the heartbeat.” Luke looked a little sick but smiled when you looked at him and Harry was in awe. 

“I think she looks like you..”

“How do you know its a she?” you asked surprised.

“I just feel like its going to be.”

“I feel like its going to be a boy, and I think he looks like you.” Harry smiled shaking his head. He was about to respond when you heard the familiar thump thump thump of a heartbeat. Harry had tears falling down his cheek. You smiled and wiped them away.

“That’s amazing.” he looked at the doctor with a smile. “Thank you for showing us that.”

The doctor nodded, flipping the light back on and handing you a towel to wipe your stomach. “Okay, you look good the baby looks good but we do want to do a blood test..From this you can find out the gender if you like.”

“Yes.” You said and looked at Harry.

“I think we should wait...let it be a surprise.” Harry said looking at you.

“Harry its not your decision.” Luke intervened.

“Its my baby too. I think we should wait.” He said pointedly at Luke.

“It should be (y/n)s decision. She's the one carrying it.”

“Well I think we both would have fun waiting.” Harry looked at you and you looked down.

“You haven't even been here. You don't have a say in it.”

“Luke,” you cut him off. “It is Harry’s baby too. He's the one here now and thats all that matters. Why don't we wait now and we can always decide later to look.”

Harry smiled and nodded at you, then glared at Luke. Luke just rolled his eyes. “whatever.” The doctor took your blood, explaining that it would also test for some genetic defects and diseases and that you would receive a call in the next few days with the results. You held Harry’s hand the whole time while talking to Luke so luckily you did not faint. Harry helped you to your feet, and held onto you to make sure you weren't going to drop back at any notice. You smiled and gave him a reassuring kiss. He let you go a little but still tightly held your hand. You set up another appointment and then walked out with your guys. Harry opened the car door for you and Luke climbed in the back seat. After ensuring you were buckled the three of you drove home. Luke left without saying a word and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What an asshole.” 

You lightly smacked his arm and smiled. “He will come around. Trust me.”  

Harry’s only response was a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we need to go by my place and pick up some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Like all of it.”

“Why?”

“Well I figured we should probably live together so I can help out with everything..” Your mouth dropped open. “Unless thats not okay...” he added concerned he had overstepped.

“No. No I would love that...I just didnt think thats what you would want.”

“(y/n) I know the last few months have been rocky with us but I want to be here all the time with you. I love you and I want us to make things work. If me being here to help, mends that? I’ll never leave the house again.” He kissed your softly and you smiled. 

“I love you Haz.”

“I love you too love.”

---

Part 3 of the pregnancy series, hope you guys like it :) There wasnt a lot of action in this chapter but just wait for the next ;)

xoxo

[flowers-creativity]

Febuwhump Day 6: Insomnia

Fandom:  The Musketeers

Characters: Aramis, Porthos

Warnings: None

Summary: Aramis can’t sleep

Notes: First Febuwhump ficlet! I’m not doing all of them but will post if and when the muse strikes.

This one is for @aini-nufire who suggested Aramis and insomnia.

AO3 link

Later, he could no longer say when it had started. Probably around the time after the King had announced that the Queen was with child. Beaming and proud and with no doubt at all that his childless marriage had finally been blessed. The only one in the room who knew what had actually happened was Athos, and one look had made it clear that sympathy was not high on his list of reactions to the news.

So he hadn't gone to him to look for it. And he could not go to Porthos, which hurt in its own special way, nor to d'Artagnan, which hurt in a different way again.

As was his wont to do, he went to others for, if not sympathy, at least companionship. But between the memory of one stolen night with a lonely woman who told him he was worth her touch, her affection, the shadow it was casting on his friendships, his family of those three soldiers, his brothers, and the thought of what was to come – and he was terrified, and terrifyingly excited … Companionship did not help.

So he stopped going to Madame du Peigne, to sweet Marie, to playful Yvette. Instead, he went home, to his apartment near the Garrison, and fell into bed in the vain hope that maybe at home, his mind would rest.

And then he got up and lit a candle, sitting until the small hours of the morning poring over his Bible until his eyes ached and his mind was awhirl with quotes and parables that might have helped at another time but this time, did nothing to soothe the sting of his mistakes and how little he actually regretted them.

When the sun rose, he got up, tied his weapons belt around his waist and marched into the Garrison as if he wasn't dragging the weight of too many sleepless nights with him.

He could keep this up. And at some point, he would be so tired that he would be able to sleep, his mind be damned. He was sure of it.

_________________

“Aramis!”

Aramis yanked his head up, opening his eyes – he did not remember closing them … “Huh?”

Porthos loomed in front of him, bent over the table and a hand on Aramis' shoulder. “You alright? Almost landed face-first in the soup there.” Dark eyes bored into his, worriedly searching for something.

Aramis leaned back and tried not to feel too disappointed when Porthos' hand slipped from his shoulder. “Oh … Ah,” he hedged, then yawned, which was only half play-acting. “I guess I must've fallen asleep for a moment. I'm just a bit tired.”

“Hum,” Porthos said as he settled on the bench opposite without his eyes leaving Aramis' face, “you've been looking a bit tired a lot, lately. Not sleeping well?”

How about not at all, Aramis thought bitterly. But aloud, he said: “Oh, you know. Madame de Chalon's husband is away, and who am I to waste such a perfect opportunity?” He grinned his usual charmer's grin and hoped that he was good enough an actor that Porthos would not notice it didn't reach his eyes.

Porthos rolled his eyes good-naturedly, even if the worry was not completely gone. “Well, I'd say when you start falling asleep at the mid-day meal, it's time to cut back a bit. You never listen to me, though, so I won't waste my breath.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Just take care, alright? I won't be there to keep you from drowning in your soup all the time.”

“I always listen to you!” Aramis protested, ignoring the ache the whole conversation was stirring in his heart. It wasn't Porthos' fault, just the contrary. It was Aramis who had done something so huge, so dangerous that he could no longer sit and banter with his friends like they used to, that he could not ask his oldest friend for help when the thoughts of it haunted him. That he could not confess to him the darkest part of it: that he did not regret it. Not the night itself, nor what had come of it. Not the thought of a child – his child.

Porthos snorted. “Alright, you listen sometimes,” he acquiesced magnanimously. “But always is as much as an exaggeration as never.”

Aramis conceded the point with a tilt of his head, then dragged himself off the bench and said: “I'll better go and take a nap before afternoon training, then, so I won't fall asleep with a musket in my hand. I'll see you then?”

“Sure,” Porthos said, grinning widely and waving at him. “And don't oversleep, or I'll come and drag you out of bed for a bath in the horse trough. That'd wake you up quickly, eh?”

Aramis returned the grin to the best of his abilities. “No, thanks, I prefer gentler ways of being wakened.”

“Not gonna put on a dress and wake you up with a kiss!” Porthos called after him as he walked away, and the grin Aramis gave him over his shoulder felt more natural. “You'd look really nice, though!” he called back.

His grin faltered quickly, though, and he spent the next hour lying on his bed, wide awake, and tried to find a way how he could have told Porthos the truth without putting a noose around his neck like he had done to Athos.

_____________________

Standing guard was Hell. Aramis was convinced of it. Training was bad – and his performance got worse by the day – and patrols were bad – and he thanked God every time they made it through without his fatigue getting one of them killed – but standing guard was Hell. Nothing to do that required as much attention as he could spare, no conversation that kept his thoughts from straying, no movement that kept his limbs from locking up … He was sure he was trembling, and his eyes stung with involuntary tears that he blinked away quickly.

“Aramis,” he heard Porthos hiss at him, and he shook his head without looking at him.

“Aramis,” his friend repeated, “you're not well. I can see it. Everyone can see it.”

Aramis shook his head again, staring straight ahead. If he dared look at Porthos right now, he would lose it.

Porthos huffed impatiently. “Y'know, I don't wanna know what's going on. You don't need to tell me. But you can't go on like that. Look at me, Aramis.” He suddenly loomed before him, and Aramis shrank back, startled. Strong hands caught him by the elbows, keeping him upright. “When did you sleep last?”

Aramis willed his sluggish brain to come up with a quip, something that sounded enough like him that it would dispel the worry in Porthos' dark eyes. But in the end, all he managed was a pathetic “I don't know” as he blinked again, feeling moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes. That much was the truth – he had long lost track of when he slept, snatches and seconds here and there, maybe even half an hour at a time, but none of it feeling like he had truly slept and doing nothing to lighten the burden of fatigue weighing down on him.

Porthos looked at him a while longer, and Aramis felt himself swaying on his feet, clinging desperately to the last shreds of his self-control so he didn't break down right here, in Porthos' arms. Porthos huffed again and turned away. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I'm gonna talk to Athos.”

Aramis nodded helplessly, leaning back against the wall as Porthos released his grip. He drifted in his stupor until Porthos appeared again at his side and took his elbow in a strong grip. “So,” he announced, “we're going home. And you're going to sleep.”

“But,” Aramis sputtered, “our shift--”

“--is over now,” Porthos talked over him. “Don't worry about it.” He steered Aramis through the Palace's halls, paying little attention to anything else and overriding all of Aramis' weak protests. Finally, Aramis gave in – not that he expected that he would actually sleep, no matter how much Porthos wanted to help. What could he do, really? He could not take his thoughts away.

The ride to the Garrison was a blur in his mind, as was the walk up to his rooms – no, wait, these were Porthos' rooms. Aramis looked around, at a loss why Porthos had brought him here.

Porthos walked him to his bed, sat him down and sat back on his haunches before him, meeting his gaze with a dark scowl. In any other, this would have looked fearsome but even in his fragile state, Aramis could not help but know this look. This was Porthos at his most protective.

“Alright,” his friend started, “here's how I see it. There's somethin' goin' on that don't let you sleep. Don't tell me it's Madame One-or-another or Mademoiselle So-and-so. I know what you look like when you're tired because you've been enjoying yourself. So it's somethin' else, and you're not talkin' to me about it. Or the others.”

Aramis could do nothing more than nod dumbly. All of his usual light banter had dried up, and he knew it had gone too far, anyway. Porthos would never accept diversion now.

“So this is how it's gonna go,” Porthos continued. “We're goin' to bed now. And I won't ask, and you don't have to talk. But you will sleep.”

“I can't,” Aramis choked out.

“You will,” Porthos repeated confidently. “Because you know I'm here, and I've got your back.”

Aramis shook his head and leaned forward, burying his hands in his hair. “No, Porthos, Porthos, please,” he begged without knowing what he was asking for, “I can't, I--”

Porthos' hands closed around his wrists, and he tugged until Aramis had no choice but lift his head and meet his gaze. “Trust me,” Porthos implored.

There was only one reply to that: “Always.”

Porthos nodded, satisfied. “Come on.” He helped Aramis shed his doublet and boots, then guided him until he lay prone on Porthos' bed. Aramis let it happen, past refusal and past hope. He listened to Porthos moving around the room, closing the curtains so the room was dipped into a half-light, then shedding his own outer layers and crawling into the bed behind him. Porthos' arms closed around Aramis and pulled him back to his chest, his bulk shadowing him. The warmth emanating from that broad chest seemed to sink right into his bones, and he only now became aware of how cold he had been. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into it, into the strength and protection promised by the arms folded around him. Even if he could not sleep, he could rest here, knowing that his friend was here and did not want to pry, wanted nothing but for him to be warm and comfortable and get better.

Porthos' voice was a balm as he whispered: “Sleep, Aramis. I have your back.” It stripped him bare but at the same time, enveloped him like a warm blanket. Trust me, Porthos had asked, and he did, with a child's simple knowledge that no evil could touch him here. Not even the nightmare of his own creation that his life had been recently.

“Sleep,” Porthos repeated, and with a deep sigh, Aramis let go.

He slept.