#so angled can barely see his irises... its a vibe

[teddybearsims]

reasons why august doesn't like going out in public: strangers approaching him. (but at least they catch his good sides)

[felswritingfire]

*slams door*

I love your mafia AU Vil x reader

Can I ask for more ??

*Physically Vibrates*

Anon, thank you for my life-

Also if you want a continuation of this (or fluff, I'm just addicted to angst, because apparently I'm a DUMBASS EMO--) or anyone else feel free to ask! I fucking love this AU tbh

(Also no I'm not done with April Brain Rot, I'm just working on one that's like- it's turned big as FUCK- ;0;)

TW: violence; blood; strangulation; uncomfortable vibes; creepy men; cursing

The chime to your door rang loud and clear. A happy bounce to your step as you go to greet the first customer of the day (or Dol and Sul). “Good morning!” You say as you step out from your back room, rounding the corner of your little counter to see the two men who walked in. They’re both big, firm mouths and sharp eyes. Your brows furrow for a moment until you school your expression back into a professional and welcoming smile. “What can I do for you two?”

The one to the right offers you a closed eyed smile. You count the piercings that line the cartilage of his ears as he says: “ah, we were looking for something a little…” His hands trail over the purple fabrics you have. Tapping at a roll of fabric that was lavender, light beige roses outlined in a gold decorating the expanse of it. “Delicate looking.”

Seven. You count, frowning. “Delicate, hm? Anything in particular it’s gonna be used for? A dress? A suit? That might help narrow it down.” You stand next to him, skin pricking with the sensation of eyes boring into you. You fight the urge to glance back.

“A suit. For someone with delicate features. Almost like a porcelain doll.” The man says, his thumb rubbing the patterns of the fabric.

“Are they flashy? You seem to really like that particular one, sir.”

He lets out a laugh, something deep and wispy. You don’t like it. “No. It just reminds me of someone.”

You hum. “Any color you have in mind?”

“Red.”

“Red, huh?” You press your finger to your lips, turning around just to almost walk into the other man. You forgot about him. You gulped as you crane your head to look up at him. A shaky smile making its way onto your lips. “And you, sir? Are you looking for anything in particular?”

He tilted his head, his pupils almost being eaten up by the dark browns of his irises. His frown deepens-

You let out an ugly noise as the air is caught in your throat by the squeeze of a hand around your throat. The chill of his rings burning your skin as he raises you by your neck until your fingers dangle above the floor. “Why don’t we just deal with them?” The man hisses at the way your nails dig into his wrist and he squeezes harder. You can feel the slight bulge of your eyes and the blood rushing to your ears in a panic.

“No, no.” The other’s voice sang out, thin hands coming to wrap around your waist and squeezing. You felt dizzy and sick. “We need answers first- you can’t just expect someone to talk through brute strength all the time, hm?”

“Shut up. If we beat them- they’ll talk.”

“Not if you kill them first.” The one with piercings raises his eyebrows as he watches the way you claw at the ringed man; drool dripping out of the corner of your lips and your eyes squeezing shut, tears slipping from your lashes and onto your red cheeks. He shivered, mouth watering. “I can see why Schoenhiet likes them so much.” His finger traces down your spine and you flail your legs at the uncomfortable shiver that shoots through you.

“D- don’t t- tou- hhh-” you try to choke out only to have the ringed man tighten his grip, your words becoming an awful gurgle.

“Where’s Shoenhiet.” He demands, loosening his grip on your neck.

You gulp down saliva while sucking in air into your aching lungs. “I- I don’t know who- who that is!” Your voice goes high near the end as the grip around your windpipe tightens again.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I- I’m not-”

Your legs kick and you hear the way your bones creek against each other- one thought floating above the panic that floods your body: they can’t know- they can’t know where Vil is.

“You’re going to kill them.”

“They just need to be a little more force.” The ring man tightens his grip to an impossible tightness, his knuckles turning white and the skin around your throat turning a dark purple. A wheeze escapes your open mouth, the edges of your eyes turning blurring into darkness.

You suck in breaths, greedily heaving in huge gulps of air. You’re suddenly dropped to the hard ground, your body landing with a loud thud! And numbing pangs of pain jumping around your bones. You squeeze your eyes shut. A foot settling on your head.

I hope… Vil won’t come.

***

Vil bounced his leg, impatience and something… anxious settling at the bottom of his stomach. The night lights of the city blurred past him out of the window of the limo.

“Roi du Poison, is something bothering you?”

Vil’s eyes drifted to Rook, the hunter unusually stone faced as he waits for him to answer. “And what of you, Rook? You’re not your usual self.”

Rook lets out a quiet laugh. “You didn’t answer my question.” He claps his hands. “But to answer yours- I’m…” his face falls suddenly. “There’s something wrong, non?”

Vil raises his brow.

“I am worried about our tailleur chéri.”

“You too, it seems.” Vil says, his fingers pinching his chin.

Rook hums, cradling his crossed knee in his intertwined hands. His green gaze drifts down to his lap. “I’m afraid.”

Vil’s eyes widened looking up at Rook. “You are?”

He nods. “Dol and Sul… they haven’t heard from them all day.”

“They haven’t?” He could feel his face heat up in barely suppressed frustration.

“You cannot blame them, Roi du Poison. They have been busy with preparations. They’ve been worried sick.”

Vil grows quiet, swallowing, before he turns to the radio type device next to him and presses the red button. “Epel. I need you to take us to (Y/N) Boutique. Make it snappy.”

The radio crackles. “Got it.” Epel’s says. The limo lurching as it picks up speed. Vil could hear the blares of horns outside the car, but he couldn’t seem to care right now. His leg bounces quicker, the anxiety molten in his tummy.

***

The click of Vil’s heels are deafening as he walks into the boutique, Rook and Epel both flanking him. His eyebrows are drawn into a stern angle. He takes a deep breath and his fingers twitch: the sting of copper sinks deep into his senses. Blood.

Vil clenches his hands into fists and leans towards Rook. “Go find them.”

Rook nods, sinking into the shadows.

Vil gestures to Epel and the purple haired boy reaches behind him, pulling out a pistol and clicking off the safety. He stays close to Vil, stepping lightly as they go through the few aisles there was.

Vil’s nose crinkles at how… cold the boutique suddenly seemed. He hated it, this wasn’t your boutique- not the one that he came to adore as soon as he stepped in.

It was a day that started out awful: realizing he was out of his favorite shampoo and conditioner mid showering, Epel being a touch more unreasonable than normal (speeding, acting unruly every time he tried fixing his bow), and to top it off a rookie spilling his favorite smoothie on his favorite suit. He was seething by the time he was out for his evening walk when he stumbled upon the little shop. He had glanced at it a couple of times out of the limo, even on his morning jogs.

He didn’t know what compelled him to walk in, but when he opened the door and stepped in, he took a deep breath, the smell of vanilla and fresh fabrics flooding his senses. He closed his eyes at the warmth that enveloped him.

“Hello!” He turned to see you standing there, a warm smile on your face and you absolutely glowed in the afternoon light. “Is there any way I can help you?”

“Don,” Epel whispered. “The… the counter.”

Vil glanced at the corner of the polished counter: red glistening under the light from the street lamps outside. He grimaced, gaze trailing down the edge of the counter to the floor. Drips of red splattered across the tile in small specks and towards the back room. His eyes widened.

“Vil.” Rook stood in the doorway of the backroom, his eyes drooping into something mournful.

The man broke into a sprint, his long legs carrying him there in a few steps. Rook makes room for him, his hand coming to settle on Vil’s back.

The breath is knocked out of him when he lays his eyes on your broken body. Your arms were tied behind your back with ribbon. He didn’t miss the fact that they were purple- a light lavender with gold accents. The blood was smeared across your face, already caking with dry blood. Your hair disheveled, white dress shirt stained with red and blurry pink, and your neck a thick ring of ugly, dark bruises. Your mouth half agape as you're curled up on the floor in splatters of blood underneath you.

He takes trembling steps forwards. The click of his heels uneven and obnoxiously loud as he makes his way to you, his head pounding. There was no way… no way this was happening.

You had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Just an innocent bystander in the midst of things. One that he was waiting to spend more time with. One that was special.

He didn't even realize he was grinding his teeth until he saw your eyes flutter open. “Vil?” you mumbled through a bruised jaw. Your hands, heavy like lead, reached to touch his face. He caught your hand in his. “Vil! You’re… you’re ok…” You smile up to him the best you can, your eyes heavy and bleary with exhaustion.

“Who did this, my Sweet Potato? Tell me who.” Vil pressed you close to his chest, turning to gesture to Rook and Epel who nodded.

You hum, pressing your cheek into him and taking a deep breath. “You’re ok…”

Vil can feel the way the tears catch in his throat, an awful choking thing. He cleared his throat. “Who did this to you?”

“They kept… asking ‘bout you but I didn’t… say nothin’... Nothin’ at all.” You mumble against him, voice raspy like it had rocks stuck in your throat.

“Why? Why didn’t you? You didn’t have to do that.” He almost laughs at how he feels a happy blush warm your cheeks. He dips his head closer to your ear, his lips almost brushing against the shell of it as he speaks. “You’re not even mine, my Sweet Potato.”

A giggle leaves you, tired and quiet. “I… I can change that… very quickly, Mr. Schoenhiet.”

He laughs, pressing his soft lips against your blooded cheek as Rook and Epel rush back in with his medic, Dol and Sul, pushing behind him to see you, both clamoring with emotion.

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 2

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.5k

"Who are you, Y/N?" The stoic man asked you. He had a porcelain complex to him. His cheekbones were high and defined, with slick black hair that was gelled back. He wore a white lab coat, and his hands were folded on the table as his icy blue eyes bore into you like a snake staring at its prey. The question you had been asked was supposed to be responded with an automatic answer, and you knew better than to try and rebel. You were coaxed into being what they wanted you to be, so you reluctantly spat the words,

"I am Y/N, patient zero, and your loyal subordinate." You boomed emptily, the repeated and hollow words falling from your chapped lips like poison. You looked into the man's eyes again, wanting to test him. At this point, you had nothing to lose.

"Good, now back to sleep." The Doctor ordered, and suddenly everything went black.

The pain was horrendous. The overwhelming force ripped you from the depths of reality, into another painful dimension. Minghao was holding you desperately, constantly asking if you were okay. You didn't know if you could open your eyes, for the ringing in your pain ridden head was too great. Your heavy breathing soon slowed within a few minutes, while Minghao continued to hold you frantically.

You forced your eyes to open, and Minghao's deep brown ones looked at you in a concerned manner. You hadn't been greeted with these irises before, only the cold sarcastic ones, but these orbs were filled with worry. "I'm okay." You managed to mumble, unclasping yourself from his hold while forcing yourself to stand up. Suddenly, the realization of what just happened hit you.

You had remembered something.

The situation seemed somewhat familiar to the one you were in now, being asked questions by a man that demeaned you.

"What the fuck happened?" Minghao asked worriedly, and now it was your turn to laugh.

"Still don't believe me?" You daunted cockily, tilting your head to the side with a smug smirk etched on to your lips.

-

You were forced to go to the community's "clinic" to get checked up on. Their doctor was a young med student, who managed to flee the city when the outbreak first started. He went by the name of Seungkwan, and he was a very sweet and nervous young man.

You had found out that the community you were currently residing in was named "Fort Lockwood". The name came from the street the community was, a mere one way road with a decent amount of houses on both sides. You had also learned that Minghao wasn't the leader, but he was high in command. The leader was Joshua, who appointed several other people to be in charge of certain things. He was just in charge of making sure everything was in shape, that his citizens were safe, and he dealt with the serious problems along with the other leaders. Minghao was in charge of the weaponry, and he trained new citizens on how to fight, use a gun, knife, etc.

You learned that the short-tempered Junhui was in charge of gathering supplies, and often went on escapades for a few days by himself just to come back with a van full of goodies. Hansol, the soft boy you took an immediate liking to, was in charge of defense, and making sure the walls were maintained regularly and that "the infected" were led away from their base.

Seungkwan was in charge of medicine, and the health of the citizens. You kind of scoffed at the mention of how many men were in power, until you heard about Margo and Cleo. Margo was a teacher, in charge of educating the youth of Fort Lockwood. Cleo was apparently "a complete technology wiz" and got the power working in the community again. So, she was in charge of that, along with trying to communicate with the army through the radios she miraculously fixed and walkie-talkies.

Another woman whom you had yet to meet by the name of Sonny was a botanist. She was in charge of the gardens and growing enough food to feed their small community. About five hundred people lived in Fort Lockwood, some families living by themselves, and other people camping together in houses. It was a lot to take in, especially with your limited experience, so you were left to relax in Joshua, Minghao, Junhui, and Seungkwan's house until you were further situated into a better living situation. You pondered the thought of escaping, but the possibilities of you doing so successfully were quite slim.

Not only that, the community was nice. People worked together to help rebuild what was lost, and you appreciated that. You appreciated their will, and their determination. Although you didn't know yourself well enough yet, you knew that you lacked hope for some reason.

Then you found yourself thinking about the man with the icy blue eyes, and the memory that had transpired. You knew it happened, there was a certain clarity in the situation that you relived which led you to believe that it was pure and real. You sighed, the detrimental day kicking in, and soon you felt like you wanted to cry. Humans cry after under a lot of stress, right?

But, your agony was no match to your stubborn side. You refused to let the tears fall, for they symbolized vulnerability. You don't know why you thought that, you just did. And, to put it simply, you were fucking confused. Waking up in a post-apocalyptic world can take quite a toll on somebody, nonetheless somebody with no memories before what had just happened.

So, you just sat on the mattress splattered on the floor of the cold attic you were staying in. You assumed autumn was here, the season fresh and ripe. You then decided to look through your bag, which was stripped of its gun, but nothing else. You had some clothes in there which looked like they'd fit you, along with a lighter, some rope, matches, ammunition, a water bottle, and a blanket. As you got to know yourself throughout the day, you figured out that you were actually quite intelligent, but just kept in the dark. So, the bag filled with all the supplies a girl like you could need was somewhat baffling, which only added to the list of questions you couldn't answer.

You soon heard a knock creaks in the wooden stairs that led up to the attic, which led to a knock on your door. You came face to face with Joshua, the leader of the grand scheme. "Hello." He said somewhat sweetly. His voice was soft, and it contrasted with his rugged looking figure. He had blackish brown hair that fell down his forehead, with his ears poking out slightly. His angled brown eyes were kind of distant, but sage. He was skinny, ragged, yet muscular - similar to Minghao in that sense. He wore a black jacket and brown cargo pants, with an old pair of brown boots aged with experience. His eyebrows were slanted naturally, which gave an intimidating vibe. If you were different, you would've considered yourself intimidated.

But his soft voice contrasted with his scary exterior. His voice was something you could almost drown in, it was rich and thick like honey, but smooth and intoxicating. "Hi." You muttered, returning the intense eye contact he displayed to you.

"Minghao told me what happened...I may seem like an asshole, forcing you to stay here-"

"You don't seem like one - you are one. But continue." You interrupted ripely, your feisty attitude kicking in. Instead of getting pissed, he gave you a lopsided smile which oozed with something you'd consider respect.

"Anyway, I hope you know it's just for the safety of my people. You see, many people want to be a part of our community, or they want to destroy it. But, our location is quite hidden if you haven't noticed, it's a street many miles away from the city, in a town that used to be a peaceful suburb. But, I believe that you're alone and that you have no group. But, I want you to stay here: where it's the closest thing to safe in this world." Joshua explained, inching his way closer to you, which resulted in him sitting on the wooden floor of the dusty attic, directly across from you.

"But why?"

"Because, Y/N, you saved our lives. Usually, lone survivors would let us die as a distraction for the infected, so they could get away safely. What you did was not normal, but highly appreciated. I'm sorry that not everybody showed their gratitude, but they were still processing what had just happened. They're much calmer and more thankful now." Joshua had rasped, and you listened intently.

"Thank you for your kindness. I know my explanation seems like a complete lie, but I promise you it's not. The truth is, when I passed out when talking to Minghao, I believe a memory had came to me. And, that memory scared me." You huffed, finding it odd that you were admitting your fear to a man that you barely knew. "I also take back the thing about you being an asshole, you're actually quite nice." You had joked hoping to lighten the mood.

"I assumed so. But, can you tell me about the memory?" Joshua had requested, a sliver of a smile creeping onto his face.

"I was talking to a man, he looked like a doctor. He asked me a question, and I knew what to say. I had told him I was his subordinate, and that I was 'Patient Zero'. I think I was much younger than I am now in that memory, but he said something along the lines of 'Go back to sleep', and everything went blank. Then, I woke up." You lamented confusedly, your head fuzzy and tired.

"There are many things in this world that we cannot explain, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and trust you, Y/N. Please don't break my trust." Joshua said, his last sentence more longing and desperate than intimidating. You nodded automatically, under his hypnotizing gaze. Soon, he led you downstairs to dinner, where you were face to face with some familiar faces.

The atmosphere was quiet when you walked into the kitchen, where Seungkwan, Minghao, and Junhui were sitting. They were eating what looked like steak, until you realized that it was deer.

You ate it ravenously. You didn't realize how empty your stomach was until you smelled the food, and you downed it within minutes. Minghao was amused at this, and Joshua merely smiled. Hell, even Junhui scoffed a bit.

Soon, everybody laughed, which lightened the mood severely. Then, you were being assaulted with various questions from everybody.

"Where'd you learn how to fight like that?" Junhui had asked, and you merely shrugged. You also had extensive knowledge in the field of medicine, the useful information placed in your head mysteriously.

"I'm better." Minghao deadpanned, and you just scoffed and rolled your eyes.

The conversation drifted on until you revealed the information that you didn't know how to wield a gun. That was Minghao's area of expertise, so you were going to be picked up by Minghao tomorrow, where he'd take you out of Fort Lockwood and teach you how to use one.

Soon, you were the one asking questions. You acquired the information that nobody knew exactly how the outbreak started, but a state of emergency was declared within 3 days, and civilization was reversed back to its old ways within a week. And then the military disappeared after six weeks, and the world truly "went to shit" according to Minghao. The "infected" went by many names, such as "stragglers", "walkers", and "lurkers". You preferred calling them infected.

Soon, dinner was finished, and you decided to take a walk around the fort to take in your surroundings. While you were just about to walk out the door, Joshua stopped you. "I'll join you." He cheekily said, and you smiled weakly.

Joshua showed you around the community, giving you an excellent and lighthearted tour. You let yourself soak in the lightness of your conversations, knowing that your upcoming days were to be filled with nothing but heavy dread. You grew quite fond of Joshua, or Josh (he preferred that nickname) and hoped that you wouldn't break his trust, either.

-

The next morning you awoke at dawn, and you assumed it was six am by the positioning of the sun (another thing you had no idea where you learned it from). You were supplied with clothes and shoes, so you changed into a somewhat heavy slick, gray jacket along with camouflaged pants. You slipped on black leather combat boots and tied your hair up in a low ponytail, due to its shortness.

All the women you had come across had short hair as well, and you assumed it was merely safer to have it. You went downstairs, and everybody was already up making breakfast. You smelled eggs.

"Where did you get eggs from?" You exclaimed, kind of excited over some stupid eggs.

"We have a farm, it's small but it gets the job done." Seungkwan humbly explained, and you nodded and took your eggs gratefully. Minghao ate next to you, going on about the danger of guns. You nodded, trying to soak in the information being rapidly spewed at you.

Soon, you were in a car with Minghao, the vehicle being supplied with various forms of guns, from rifles to pistols. Minghao drove out of Fort Lockwood, and to a very desert land of grass of the highway. It was surrounded by woods, which irked you slightly. You didn't like how anybody could be hiding in those woods, but Minghao insisted that nobody was, and you had no choice but to believe him.

Soon, you were given a breakdown on guns, how to hold them, when to shoot, how to aim, and how to disarm somebody. "I don't want you to be scared of these things. They can end your life, but they can also save it." He had prospered, in which you gulped eagerly.

To put it simply, you were a fast learner. Your aim was impeccable due to your perfect eyesight, but you were not fond of the loudness that boomed from the guns. "Can't the infected hear this?" You asked.

"They can, but we'll be out of here before they can arrive. Plus, we have silencers if it gets out of hand." He explained, and you found yourself not wanting to know what "getting out of hand" meant.

You couldn't disarm Minghao, merely because he flourished in this area, but he had struggled trying to disarm you. You had noticed that Minghao's once playful attitude was replaced with a firm, dominant one when he was teaching you. He commanded respect, and you gave it.

"I think we're done for the day. The infected will be here soon, so let's get back home." Minghao had ordered, and you hopped in the car reviewing every bit of information you had just learned.

After driving for a bit, you two came to a halt when a series of cars blocked the road. Men with guns stood smugly there, and you soon realized that the infected weren't going to be your problem.

[wistfulcynic]

Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza​ and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is! 

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him. 

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian. 

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times)  Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore 

On Tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four  | Five | Six

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.  

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.  

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.  

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”  

“Aye!”  

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.  

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

                                                    ~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

                                   —Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2 

[imajined]

The Best Medicine || K.TH

Pairing: reader x taehyung

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1544 words

Warning(s): -

It was another of those days where you were pondering on how much you should have treasured your body when it was healthy.

The moment you got up this morning, you were greeted with sore muscles in your shoulders and bicep. Even a simple task like stretching could set it into a dull ache. Funny, you don't recall exercising yesterday. In fact, you could not even remember the last time you did any strenuous activity at all.

Why was it so hot? Your palm grazed the nape of your neck, finding it coated with a layer of sweat. Entire body covered in perspiration, you tossed the duvet off your legs. A flurry of cold air prickled your bare skin. Chills travelled down your spine. Now, why was it so cold?

Unable to settle for a midpoint, you scampered out of bed. Each movement sent your limbs in pain. When was the last time you felt this? Two? Three years back? Two years ago, you confirmed. It was when you had a fever two years ago. At that time, your mother was able to nurse you. It suddenly hit you.

Fever.

Maybe that was the reason why you did not feel quite right. You dug out a thermometer - thank god you kept one in your apartment. Cleaning it first, you placed the cold metal underneath your tongue, waiting for the telltale beeping sound.

You were right. The next moment was spent texting your boss that you will not be going to work. However, seeing your boyfriend's, Taehyung, chat on your display first, you decided to postpone texting your boss for a while. His most recent message was an 'I love you', sent when you were about to sleep last night. Smiling as you recalled last night's conversation, you started typing your next message about you being unable to work today as you were down with fever.

Taehyung's reply was in an instant, a simple but loving 'Get well soon babe'. As you were about to thank him for wishing you well, he continued, 'Will you be home all day?'.

You pondered for an answer. What were the chances of you needing to go out? There's already all you need at home - Medicine, food for your meals - if you had the strength to cook... Yup, you were going to stay at home all day.

Shutting your phone off after answering Taehyung and messaging your boss, a bubble of a yawn rose from your lips. Fatigue was getting to you, your consciousness ebbing away. You were fighting to stay awake. The next thing you knew, you were fast asleep.

♠

Someone's warm breath tickled at your ear. Stirring from your drowse, you responded with a groan, tossing your body to your side, feeling even more warmth there. Your elbow brushed against something. What was that? Maybe it was...

"Babe," a husky voice sang at your ear, "It's lunchtime. Wake up."

Rousing at the sound of his voice, you stretched your limbs before burying yourself back under the covers. It embraced you, and you weren't ready to abandon your mellow crevice. "Babe," his tone was more insistent now. "Wake up."

Tracing down your jaw was the touch of human skin. Your boyfriend's fingertip caressed your face, squishing your cheeks at odd angles. Another mean to wake you up. He made contact with your eyelid, stroking it once, then pulling. Once exposed, your eyeball felt the cold temperature of the air. A nasty feeling to have.

You let out a muffled mumble into your pillow. "Taehyung," you dragged the last syllable of his name. Fluttering open your eyelids, your irises set upon your boyfriend laying by your side. One arm warped around you, his other arm was balancing himself from rolling off your bed in his precarious position.

He let out a smile, showing off his teeth and the box shape of his mouth. "Good morning," he brushed a thumb across your forehead, kissing it, "my sleeping beauty."

Afternoon rays filtered through your blinds, illuminating your bedroom in a light so bright, you wondered how you slept with the bright surroundings. Through your dizzy wake, your lips lifted into a lazy grin. "Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you," he murmured into the crook of your neck. He stopped, turned to face you and locked your eyes with his. You tilted your chin upwards to meet his face, leaning forward to seal your lips with his. Just as you were about to kiss, Taehyung grasped the side of your skull, locks of your hair threading between his fingers. "Nope," he shifted backwards, "No kisses until you're recovered."

A pout formed on your lips. "No?" You echoed incredulously, "Why not?" Dropping to your knees, you pleaded with him. Hands snaking onto his back, something that made him crumble to his feet on normal days, you pushed yourself on him.

Yet, Taehyung was still firm about his decision. "Because I'll get sick too. Because you're already warm enough as it is, you'll get warmer if we kiss. Because you may get hurt."

Because you may get hurt. It dawned on you that Taehyung cared for you a lot. Him visiting you was out of his schedule, going the extra mile to be with you. The corners of your lips twitched, hiding a slight smile. His actions warmed your heart, melting it like chocolate out under the hot sun.

"Have you eaten?"

A rumble assaulted your ears as you shook your head, strands of hair brushing your cheeks. Warmth seeped into your cheeks. Placing a hand on your stomach as if you could silence it, you let out a sheepish smile.

"Your stomach must be so deprived of food that it can speak," he laughed. "Alright, I'll cook something for you."

Although Taehyung had advised you to rest more, you found yourself wide awake. Sleep was nowhere to be found. Time crawled on for what felt like hours, leaving you with your thoughts as your only companion. Occasionally, a loud clang could be heard, reverberating from what seemed like the kitchen, to your room. Whenever that happens, Taehyung would check if you had woke up because of the noise.

The first time it happened, you felt a shock through your spine. The loud clang was a far cry from the monotony of the ceiling fan's motor whirling. Your boyfriend rushed to your room, apologising for the noise caused. After assuring him that you were already awake to begin with, he left.

The second time it happened, your eyes were already fast shut, but your mind was spinning with thoughts. You heard footsteps. Then was familiar whining creak of your bedroom door opening. You assumed it was Taehyung. Not wanting to let him know that you were still awake, you pressed your face into your duvet. "Sorry-" his deep voice rumbled but stopped short. It dropped to a whisper, "Sorry for disturbing your sleep." With the groan of the floorboards and the click of your door shut, he left.

Between the layers of your duvet, you found your lips to be pulled to a smile.

Before long, you heard the opening of the door. The side of the bed next to you dipped, Taehyung's arms finding sanctuary between your arms. "I prepared lunch for you," He told you as you stirred awake. Even through your bleary-eyed confusion, you managed to raise your brows. Taehyung? Cooking for you? Your boyfriend was never a great cook, so much till you had made him in charge of arranging the ingredients in sandwiches rather than cooking itself.

Yet, he took the initiative to cook for you.

"Aaaaaa," Taehyung hummed, parting the opening of his mouth for you to mirror. You followed. Bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips, he dribbled the liquid into the seam on your mouth. You licked your lips. It... didn't taste as bad as you thought.

With your boyfriend serving you spoons of it from the bowl to your lips, he treated you like a baby – cooing at your countenance whenever he found you to look 'especially adorable'. Soon, you had already finished its contents and he dabbed your mouth with a tissue.

He set the bowl down on your bedside table. "So, what do you want to do now?"

You shrugged, then pat the space on the bed beside you, "I want you to be with me, obviously." He obliged, first by sitting next to you. Arms wrapping your figure, he pressed you onto him. Without warning, Taehyung flung your bodies onto the mattress. Both of you starred into each other's eyes that were inches apart.

Breaking the eye contact, your eyelids fluttered shut as Taehyung's finger dusted across the small of your waist. This resulted in you squirming and giggling, "Taehyung... You're tickling me." He said nothing, flashed a playful grin and continued to tickle at your ribs. You writhed under his hold, biting your lip. Laughter escaped your mouth and you attempted at shaking him off you.

Between your laughter, Taehyung chuckled, sending vibrations from his throat which you felt from his chest pressed against yours. His eyes twinkled as he said, "You know what's the best medicine right?"

You met his eyes, creased from smiling.

Yes, you did.

Author's note: I'm kind of proud of this one shot. Taehyung somewhat gives me all the boyfriend vibes.