#the sweethearts one is low key (high key) inspired by the story of us

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

🐝 spare me a dance(in this never ending misery)

Ok before I get into the fic idea I want to highlight a fic my friend did for L2C way back in 2021 bc this title reminded me of it. It was so funny to see my insta followers run around screaming bc I refused to confirm if it was canon or not lmao, but now that the fic is out I can confirm that it's a what-if scenario

NOW FOR MY IDEA(s) FOR THE TITLE

The first one is also L2C related, and could probably be a chapter in Tales From The Lagniappe wherein everyone is on the boat and trying to find ways to keep themselves sane, considering they've been on the water for a few days and they can only play so much Uno before they have to do set the game down.

They can't exactly pull up spotify seeing as they have no service, but there is a record player with a couple of vinyls. They use it pretty sparingly to avoid getting sick of the same twenty-something songs too quickly, but they have a fun time dragging each other around the room to Sinatra in a pitiful display of "dancing." It doesn't change how horribly things have gone throughout the Green Flu, but it does bring some reprieve and comfort that they couldn't get nearly as much of when they were jumping from safe room to safe room.

My other idea... got really long lol

In this one Michael and Jeremy don't reconnect right away and it's full of all this "I wanna see him but idk if he wants to see me, idk if I'm ready to talk abt everything, blah blah blah" all that fun stuff.

Eventually we get to the sweethearts dance (valentines themed), so it's not a Huge Deal like prom but hey it's still a school dance. It's girls choice (classic high school heteronormativity) so Jeremy basically shunts away any idea that Michael will be there. He debates on even going at all but Christine frames it as an excuse to hang out with everyone, and if he hates it they can all just bail and do something else.

Everyone's "dates" are exactly who you'd expect them to be: Chloe took Jake, Brooke took Rich, Chrissy took Jeremy. So they're at the dance. There's music. There's friends. It's a pretty ok time. But this is technically a couples dance and Jenna hasn't shown up yet. How is she getting in? She texted saying she's on her way so she must've gotten someone to come with her. But who did she get on such short notice?

Jeremy gets his answer when he sees her come in with Michael.

Oh shit.

Did everyone else know this was her plan?? Was it part of the plan the entire time??? He's so unprepared oh my god she's bringing him over Michael can also tell whats going on theres no hiding from this fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck the music is so loud the gym is so crowded Michael's right here in front of him and all his friends are retreating and its-

Michael follows him pretty quickly after. They get to talking on opposite sides of the bathroom stall. They never meant to avoid the other for so long, they were just scared, they want to see each other again.

It's a slow song. A slow dance. People are pairing up. It's just the two of them in front of each other. Michael is actually dressed up in front of him in a pink-lit gym with a slow song playing and Jeremy can't tell if the pounding in his chest is anxiety or something else.

But Michael reaches a hand out to him and he can't find it in himself to stop him from swaying him around the room. Jeremy's head is screaming at him to say or do something but nothing comes of it every time he tries. Michael's mouth keeps opening and closing but he's not saying anything either until he finally just whispers "I've missed you."

And Jeremy runs out of the gym into the bathroom. It's too much to see Michael look at him with such a heartbroken expression. Jeremy did that. He caused it. How could he. What kind of a friend was he that he would leave Michael alone to wallow in misery for so many months.

The two of them bail. Jeremy texts Christine to let her know and naturally she's understanding. They continue to talk as they walk back to Michael's place ("Jenna was my ride." "We carpooled."), mostly about how neither of them were too keen on going to the dance but were talked into it. Jenna had openly framed it as a way for the two to reconcile while Jeremy had been left in the dark.

They talk more when they get into the basement. They go more in depth on all the squip stuff and it's the catharsis they need to hug and cry it out. It's at this point that they realize they've yet to change out of their dressy clothes and put on a record to have their own dance. Michael offers Jeremy a hand and, despite the lack of floorspace, share a slow dance that they can actually enjoy.

[teawinx]

Okay hear me out on this one

I made Aeon HUMAN in this rewrite/redesign series, okay? There are no American heroes (aka no DC and Marvel Rippoffs that muddy up the lore and continuity of the series). The only source of superpowers is the Miraculous. And based on this retcon, I didn’t see a reason to keep Aeon a robot. Just being able to casually make a robot in Miraculous is just kinda weird to me. Like that should impact the world WAY more than it does. So no robots, Aeon is human.

But she’s still the lovely and adorable Aeon we all know. Human or robot, she’s a sweetheart. She and Jessica are the adopted daughters of two luxury hotel owners in NY.

SO on to explaining the redesign/lack of redesign.

Civilian Aeon’s design is honestly wonderful the way it is, I think maybe because she’s the only character who understands the concept of tucking your top into your skirt/trousers. So I only really bedazzled her. She’s a fashion fan who can’t resist some cute charms and accessories. Lowkey decora kei.

Uncanny Valley doesn’t exist in this version, so she was replaced by “Panda Girl”. Aeon and Jessica were inspired by the animal themed Parisien heroes, and made their own animal themed hero costumes to act as vigilantes. And Aeon picked the red panda. Not the most practical hero costume, or the most subtle, but she pulls it off.

And of course, she gets a Miraculous. I have a whole story in mind for it, but for now here is my design for Comet, Aeon’s superhero form. She was going to be a brown doe at the start, but two brown American heroes just seemed kinda lame, and Aeon was just made to wear blue I don’t make the rules. I had also come up with the name Comet at that point, and the mental image of a comet in the night sky just fit so well. So swapped the browns for a monochrome blue with some spots that could look like stars and she was good to go!

Like with Jessica, I’m doing my best to include some diversity into the cast that was sorely lacking. I’m thinking that this new Aeon has high functioning autism. But I’m wondering if making a character who was formerly a robot autistic is in bad taste? I’m neurodivergeant myself but I need to tread wisely for this. If you think making Aeon autistic to be a faux-pas, lemme know and I’ll change it.

(Edit)

I was informed that the term “high functioning autism” is outdated, I didn’t know that. I will refrain from using that term (and “low functioning autism”) from now on. Thank you for telling me, @aloeverified​ ! You’re a treasure!

[faydingrain]

Redacted - Listener OCs

I’ve been debating on posting all my Listeners or not, since some I don’t headcanon with nearly as much as others, but I finally decided: heck, why not?

Since I don’t have decent sketches of all of them, I’m going to post the picrews that I made that I used as inspiration for their designs from. I didn’t make these with any idea in mind, just bumbled around picrew, found one that looked neat or followed a link someone sent me, and halfway through making a character I went “huh that gives me [insert listener here] vibes”. Don’t ask me who, why, where, or how I made any sort of connections to the characters with these designs. Just know that it happened.

Angel - Angie Corina

- I don’t like how mean David is, so I've skipped most of his videos. As a result, I don’t have much on my version of Angel. “Angie” came up out of necessity for my Inversion fic, and it’s just kind of stuck. However, from the little I have heard of him, whether in his own series or in others, I had a very vivid image of what Angel looked like in my head for some reason. I actually made her picrew recently just for the sake of this post, lol.

I have a small headcanon that she maybe started learning a little bit of Spanish and Hindi after meeting Baaabe and Sweetheart.

Baaabe - Emmanuel, “Em” by some, “Emmy” by his sister

- He’s having a lot of problems with his family (namely his step-father), and has to babysit his step-sister Lilia a lot. However, Lilia likes to spend time with him and Asher, and Asher absolutely adores her. He’s Hispanic and bilingual (English+Spanish), and sometimes I imagine him working as a mechanic. Also, he can do some sick tricks with a yo-yo. I don’t headcanon any major stuff with this trio, mostly just small slice-of-life things. Asher and Em being dorks, them taking Lilia to a pride parade, etc.

Sweetheart - Chrysalis “Chrys” Prasad

- A goth/punk at heart, Chrys has a set of rings they never leave without. They’re probably at least bilingual as well (English+Hindi). They’re currently trying to figure out their gender identity, and is unsure if they should fully transition or not. For the time being, they wear a binder and braid up their hair when they go out or have visitors, or when the dysphoria hits.

Chrys is pretty timid and shy when around anyone that’s not Milo, but when they put their work coat on, they go into Work Mode and can muster the courage to even stand up to high-ranking officers from the Department. They become a completely different person on-duty, and take their job very seriously. They'll also pin up their bangs before going into work.

Sometimes I imagine that Chrys keeps a pair of brass knuckles on them, and will practice boxing alongside Milo as a stress/anger-reliever.

Lovely - Gracie, “Grace” by some

- Gracie is that student that always looks stylish and is always on time. She’s a hard worker and low-key perfectionist (maybe that’s why vampires are so appealing to her?). I imagine her as a bookworm, and maybe really into the Dark Academia aesthetic. As of the events of Inversion - Another Story, she cut off the burnt ends of her hair and is trying to grow it back out. (I remade her picrew just for fun to show that, lol.)

Contrary to canon, Gracie doesn’t like the idea of becoming a vampire and living for an eternity, and wants to stay human. The topic of turning makes her uncomfortable because she doesn’t want to disappoint Vincent with the truth. While I don’t know if I would really write it out, I plan to have it to where Vincent would eventually stop asking about turning her, and simply stay by her side until she passes away from old age.

Darlin’ - Willow

- She’s known for her cute face and rough attitude. When out and about, she sports leather jackets and rides a polished motorcycle, causing trouble and picking fights to find Quinn. When not causing trouble, she drives an old pickup truck. Contrary to canon, she and Sam aren’t together, and in fact she’s still hung up on her past relationship with her now-enemy. She’s not entirely oblivious to Sam’s feelings for her, but she definitely tries to pretend they don’t exist, since she subconsciously doesn’t want to let go of her old love. (Tbh I see these two remaining as just close friends even after Quinn is taken care of, maybe hooking up for only a short period of time.)

She used to do ballet when she was little, and began practicing dance again after she met Quinn. She doesn’t like to show this side of her though, only having the idea reinforced that it’s “girly” and makes her look “weak”, which would tarnish her gruff reputation. However, after the events of Vice Versa, she’s become more comfortable with enjoying her hobby. She secretly wishes she could dance with Sam one day.

I do imagine that she has scars, but I haven’t really decided where they should be yet.

Bright Eyes - Briar “Bri”

- The almighty pouty princess, she was formerly the daughter of a wealthy family who got everything she wanted except their genuine love. Wrapped up in an unhealthy friendship with her crush Frederick, this only came collapsing down on them after their turning. She was also immensely jealous of Ryder, Fred’s boyfriend that, much to her chagrin, returned to Fred’s side after they became vampires.

However, the three have since made amends and are a close trio again, with Bri being more supportive of her two boys’ relationship and all of them being able to hang out without any tension between them. (Since their story doesn’t exist on the channel anymore, I figured I’d just skip the drama so they could partake in other fics if I need/want them to.) She also sees Sam as much of a father figure as Fred does now.

Unbeknownst to most, she’s been forming something of a friendship with Alexis.

(I don’t know how I make sense of her hair from this when I draw her but I do somehow.)

Freelancer - Cora

- The self-acclaimed gambling master, she is a kooky mess that loves to let loose and relax, despite how often she does not do that thing. She’s terrible at forming bonds since she has a bad habit of clinging to people who are even a little nice to her, even if they hurt her. However, Gavin and her new friends are there to keep the bad people away, of course. Damien gets onto her a lot for staying up all night and neglecting her health. She’s a very “no thoughts, head empty” type of person, and moves to her own beat.

Though I love Cora to death in my fanon, as of Inversion - Another Story, her fate is unknown. I’ve barely even continued personal headcanons about the choice between saving her life or Huxley’s instead (nor have I thought about what would happen to Angie). I don’t know if I could truly make that decision, hence why Vincent’s progeny remains “Vincent’s progeny” in the William letters series.

Starlight - Stella

- Curious to a fault, Stella was...actually I don’t headcanon her that much now that I think about it, since she’s just been stuck in one place the whole time I guess. It’s been a while since I listened to Starlight’s early videos, I don’t remember what canon info we have of them actually. Most of my headcanons are about various happenings regarding the Meridian, which are usually angsty, lol.

Sunshine - Sunny

- Albino because I’m cruel like that, Sunny is a sweet and quiet, albeit reckless, ray of Sunshine. She strikes me as the type of person to carry a dream journal, and generally likes journaling/writing. I actually have little on her too, since she and Elliot have been stuck in Blake’s mind prison for a while, lol. I’ve also just been focusing on the vamps far too much.

Love - Eden

- Not much for Eden outside of what’s canon. I’m not sure what direction the storyline is about to go, but I headcanon that Eden still has a fondness for Marcus. Addicted to the feelings she had before, and the affection Marcus gave her, she basically overwrites her own programming and re-codes the Obsession so she can have those feelings back.

I also have a little headcanon that “Eden” might be the name Marcus pitched for her, when they were maybe deciding on giving the Asset a proper name.

Warden - Hydra

- I don’t have too much on my Warden anymore since I changed her fairly recently. I had made this demon character before and thought passively, “She’s cute, what if she was a friend of Caelum’s?” Eventually, I began to ponder their friendship and the deliciously angsty possibility that this same demon was Vega’s Warden, and the conflict she would be in over working with the same man that hurt her friend. And thus, my old idea of Warden became Hydra instead.

And that’s it for now! There’s a couple more listeners I want to make “OCs” for but just haven’t gotten around to it, but there’s also a few I don’t intend on making since I’m not super into their storylines. I’ve been thinking about drawing them all together somehow, but I’m not sure how yet.

-Edit-

Dreamer/Blake’s Listener - Jessamine “Jessi”

- Not much on her quite yet since I’m kinda waiting for more info on his listener...but this picrew is kinda vibing with me for now.

Just kidding! Guess I’ll shove personality into her myself then!

My version of Dreamer is goofy and soft-spoken. She loves modding clothes, whether for everyday wear or cosplays, and her talent is making music. Though she uses different software for her music-making, she’s technically a drummer.

She has a younger sister, but I don’t have the details of her home/family life yet.

Honey - Amy

- A sassy and sarcastic girl that’s probably a tsundere tbh. While her boyfriend works at a pizza place, she earns her paycheck as a streamer. (Guy takes part as one of her mods sometimes.) Don’t have too much more on her since I very recently made her a thing.

[idreamofplaid]

A Merry Little Christmas

Summary: Christmas can be, above all, a season of hope. Dean reminds the reader of that.

Characters: Dean x Reader; Marla & Ted (OCs)

Word Count: 2821

Warnings: Oral (female receiving)

A/N: This is for @firefly-in-darkness written as part of @negans-lucille-tblr ‘s fic exchange. I hope you like it. It’s inspired by the song “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

The bar was empty with the exception of some of the hardcore regulars. It was the week before Christmas, and that changed the clientele somewhat, but not entirely. Some of the fortunate had places to be, loved ones to draw near, and celebrations to bring to life the joyful intent of the season. For others, it was the same routine, December 25th was just another day on the calendar. 

Marla Henderson had her usual seat at the end of the bar wearing something tight fitting and low cut to see whose eye she might catch. She’d been doing it ever since her husband left in a desperate grab at feeling wanted, desired, and validated again. Watching her always made Y/N feel a hollow, nagging sadness in the pit of her stomach. She could be Marla in a few years, only without the husband. 

That thought filled her with melancholy, and the music from the jukebox wasn’t helping. The Carpenters could always make her feel wistful even when the song was about roasting chestnuts and meant to be festive. The garland that was hanging in swags around the room was also having the opposite of the desired effect on her. It looked out of place, like a poor attempt at a pretense of merriment.

Ted Markham was also here tonight, slinging back the whiskeys. The holidays hadn’t changed anything for him, or about him. He was always on the prowl, looking to get lucky, and far too often he was looking to get lucky with her; tonight was no different. “Hey, darlin’, how about another one?”

She poured another shot in his glass and asked a little more cynically than she should  with a customer, “Don’t you ever have a limit, Ted?”

He put his hand over hers suggestively. “Not too often, gorgeous.”

She pulled her hand away and put the bottle back on the shelf. He just wasn’t getting the hint tonight. “Y/N, why don’t you come over here and sit on this stool next to me? It’s a slow night. Nobody’s gonna mind.”

He was right about one thing. It was a slow night. Couples seemed to have already paired up for the holidays to bask in the warmth of true love or enjoy a fleeting whatever to help get them through the season. After a string of disappointing boyfriends and too many dashed dreams of holiday romance, Y/N had basically given up. “Sounds tempting, Ted, but I’m gonna pass.”

He wasn’t usually a belligerent drunk, but maybe something in the tone of her voice had set him off. “Now is that any way to talk to your best customer?”

Y/N had been in her share of tight spots thanks to her chosen line of work over the years, but this time she found herself getting really uncomfortable and just wishing she could sink beneath the bar and hide.

She was struggling for a comeback and starting to get flustered when a tall, powerfully built stranger with broad shoulders and the face of a Calvin Klein model confidently strode up to the bar. He made a point of standing in Ted’s space and flashed Y/N an easy smile. She got lost in his deep green eyes for a minute and almost missed what he said. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”

He gave a cursory glance over his shoulder at Ted. That was all he needed to do. This man had an air about him that anyone with an ounce of sense or self preservation would know not to challenge. Ted made a lame excuse about it being late and hastily left.

The unknown, handsome guy took a seat on the barstool Ted had vacated. Marla was already giving him her best sultry look. Y/N recovered from her earlier discomfort. There was something about being in this guy’s presence that made her feel safe. She couldn’t think of anything clever to say so she went with, “Thanks for rescuing me. Can I offer you a drink on the house?”

He smiled again, and she felt her Grinch like shrunken heart start to glow a little bit. “Sure. I’m Dean.” He extended his hand.  When she accepted his hand to shake it, it was warm, solid, and strong. Y/N could get used to the feeling of that hand.

Dean stayed until closing time, and after a couple shots of whiskey he had switched to beer. It was a small gesture but one that didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. He wasn’t interested in getting drunk.

Y/N wasn’t sure why he was alone in a bar tonight. Maybe he didn’t have anywhere to go? Maybe he was alone too? That was hard to believe; look at him. And for the first time since she’d noticed Dean, she did. She really looked at him.

There was a depth in his eyes that it was easy to miss at first, probably because he kept it hidden; he didn’t want anyone to see it. It was a type of softness wrapped up and hidden by the hard glint he’d most likely put in his eyes because sometimes he needed that to survive.

Y/N was fascinated by Dean and spent the rest of her shift getting to know him. Marla gave up after about forty-five minutes and left when Dean hadn’t so much as tossed a look in her direction. Y/N’s questions weren’t too probing, just the getting to know you kind of stuff. “I’ve never seen you around before. What brings you to town?”

Dean took a slow drag from his beer, and the way his full lips circled around the opening of that bottle was more than a little distracting. He gave a mirthless chuckle and sighed. “Business is kind of slow for once. Don’t have much family, just my brother. He’s got a new girlfriend. They’ve been dancing around each other for a couple of years now. Finally took the plunge, and I’d just be the third wheel. So, I hit the open road to see where it’d take me.” He took another drink of his beer and appraised her with his eyes. They stopped their downward movement at her neck, which she also appreciated. “What about you? How’d you end up in this bar?”

This was a story Y/N didn’t tell often. She preferred to keep it pushed back as far as she could get it, covered in dust, on a high shelf where no one ever looked. She wanted to tell him, and poured herself a drink to reinforce her courage. “I needed a new start. Life didn’t turn out at all like I had expected or hoped, and I thought a change in geography might magically fix it.” She put her whiskey glass down on the bar after only taking one sip. “I was wrong.” 

Dean didn’t say anything, instead waiting for her to go on when she was ready. “I didn’t have the happiest childhood. For awhile I thought I’d escaped all that. Met a guy. We even had a little house together, but then he cheated on me. End of fairytale.”

Dean leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. His voice was quiet, reflective. He looked into her eyes, and she knew he actually saw her. “Bastard. You deserved better.”

Y/N laughed, the way she sometimes did when she didn’t know how to process her feelings. “How do you know? You just met me.”

Dean paused, and there was a heaviness in his words when he answered, “I know how to read people.”

Y/N laughed again. “Do you think you could teach me how to do that? I always pick the wrong guy. Did it three more times after him.” She downed the remaining whiskey in her glass.

Wanting to change the subject, Y/N looked around the bar to see if someone needed a refill. She’d been so engrossed in her conversation with Dean that she hadn’t noticed the place had completely emptied out, and it was only 1 am. Christmas. People and their places to go, or worse their utter despair at having nowhere to go. Dean looked around and assessed the situation too. He turned back to her, “Hey, why don’t you close up? I’ll wait and take you home.”

She welcomed his offer; she didn’t want to be alone in this place tonight. The sadness, desperation, and discontent just seemed to hang in the air. Y/N made quick work of wiping down all the tables and securing the stockroom, including the safe. Dean was waiting for her when she reemerged.

He pulled his keys from his pocket; the jingle was loud, but not unpleasant in the empty bar. “My car’s outside.” Y/N nodded. She’d call someone to get a ride to work tomorrow; her car would be okay here. Right now, she just wanted someone to take care of her, even if all that meant was a ride home.

His car matched the man. Rare. Powerful. Something you didn’t see everyday, and completely beautiful. Dean opened the very large and shiny black passenger door for her. He had an unexpected side too. Guys this tough usually didn’t act so gentlemanly.

Her tiny bungalow wasn’t far, and the ride ended too soon for Y/N. Sticking to his chivalrous ways, Dean walked her to the front door. It almost felt like the end of a date, and she found herself wanting to kiss him. Snow started to fall, and she pulled her coat around her more tightly 

Y/N tilted her head up and one of the big fluffy flakes landed on her cheek. For a minute, she remembered how giddy the sight of snow had made her when she was a girl. It was still a symbol of beauty and hope for her. She saw the flakes start to collect in Dean’s hair. Without thinking, she reached up and brushed her fingers over his hair, but resisted the urge to run her fingers through it.  His eyes caught hers for a minute as the snow fell between them before he leaned down and kissed her with a touch as light as the snow that fell on her face.

She opened her eyes slowly. It was quiet with the kind of peace that only a snowfall can bring. The heat was radiating off his body. It warmed her, and she didn’t want to let that warmth,or him, go. “Do you want to come inside?” 

They both knew what that meant. Something had passed between them during that kiss. Dean licked his lips and seemed to be thinking. His eyes lingered on hers for a minute before he answered, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As soon as they were inside, Y/N took off her coat and hung it up. Then she turned to Dean and started to push his jacket from his shoulders. “Let’s get you out of this.” She hung it on a peg next to her coat. When she turned back to him, he pulled her into a close embrace and kissed her with purpose. It was slow, deep, and doing everything he meant it to do. HIs tongue circled hers, and her arousal grew. If his kiss alone could do this to her, she was in for a memorable night. 

Dean’s hands made their way down her back until one stopped on her waist while the other snaked lower down to cup her ass and give it a light squeeze. She was starting to breathe heavier into his mouth. She pulled away from the kiss and took his hand. “Bedroom’s this way.”

The rooms in her house were tiny, too tiny to accommodate big beds. Right now the coziness of her full size bed seemed perfect. Dean immediately began to strip off his layers of shirts. She watched his naked shoulders and back while he bent over to take off his boots. His body was toned and had just the right amount of muscle. Y/N imagined her fingernails digging into his back. 

She was dragged from her fantasy back to the glory of reality when Dean started to unbutton the black shirt she wore for bartending duties. Underneath that functional shirt she was wearing the kind of bra that makes a girl feel pretty, and the way Dean was looking at it made her feel more than that. His look told her just how much he desired her. 

He took off his jeans before he laid her down on the bed and turned his attention to her lace covered breasts. He laved at her nipples, sucking and kissing them through the fabric. He took one of her taut nubs between his teeth and pulled at it. She moaned beneath him. “Dean, please.” 

He slid further down her body, dragging his hands down her sides, kissing all the way down to her pants that were in the way of what she wanted. Dean removed that barrier, taking her panties off at the same time. He parted her thighs and settled between her legs. He made a long swipe with his tongue through her folds, stopping at her clit to lap at before settling his lips around it to suck.

The way he’d kissed her didn’t lie; he knew what to do with his mouth. She was whimpering and pleading with him for more. He pushed at her entrance with one finger, gently exploring. Then he added another and started scissoring them to open her up. She came on his mouth while he stroked her g spot with his fingers.

Her fingers were buried in his hair, and her fists were closed around handfuls of it. Dean whispered against her core, “You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He kissed her inner thighs while she came down from her orgasm. 

When her breath evened out, she sat up; Dean rose up on his knees to face her. She reached behind her to unhook her bra and let it fall. Then she reached for the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs to push them down and release his erect cock to stand thick against his stomach. He finished taking them off while she fumbled to open her bedside drawer and get a condom. She handed it to him, he sheathed himself, then laid her back down on the bed, kissing her as they went. 

He buried his face into her neck and kissed that sensitive spot beneath her ear. She put her arms around him and whispered, “Now, Dean. I’m ready for you.”

He entered her with a smooth, swift motion. She inhaled sharply, and he pushed deeply inside her. She moved her body with his, feeling every drag of his cock over her sweet spot and push of it against her cervix. Just like she’d imagined, she dug her fingers into his back when she came and felt him throb inside her, coming just seconds after she did.

Dean said her name as he let go, and she clenched around him; her orgasm revived by his, by the pleasure she could hear she was giving him. They lay motionless for a sweet moment before Dean moved to take care of the condom. When he returned, easing the covers back and slipping into bed she asked him, “What are you doing?”

He motioned for her to get under the warm blankets with him. She settled in beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m holding you.”

The snow was still falling outside, and she watched it fall through the window, not sure what to say. It was Dean who spoke again. “Is that okay? Do you want me to go?”

She let herself relax and lay her hand on his chest. “No, I don’t want you to go. I guess I just thought you would. That’s the way this usually goes.”

Dean kissed the top of her head. “Well, that’s not how it should go. You should be held, kissed some more, and told just how beautiful you are. A man would be crazy not to know how lucky he is to have a woman like you in his arms.”

Y/N got very quiet. She felt tears in her eyes, and for once they weren’t tears of sadness. She closed her eyes and just let herself feel what it was like to be so close to him and to hear a man say these kinds of things to her. She trusted him. She trusted what he was saying, and she trusted that this could be something that lasted beyond tonight. Was this even possible? Could it be possible that there was such a thing as a Christmas miracle? She had believed in them back when snow meant hope to her. Dean tightened his hold around her, making her feel secure, and she felt him kiss her forehead. Yes, they could be real.

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @peridottea91​ @logical-princey​ @emilyshurley​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @ledzeppelinsbonzo​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @terrarium-jpeg​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @heycasbutt​ @jules-1999​ @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @lonewolf471​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @deansotherotherblog​

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @sammit-janet​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

[bangtanlalaland]

in case we die | kth (m.)

synopsis ↳how could you fall for the living when you’re dead? when all you wanted was to haunt the man that murdered you?

— 1980′s!au

→pairing: serial killer!kim taehyung x spirit!female reader     ↳featuring: bf!kim seokjin

→genre: smut, angst, low key crack

→word count: 10.3k

→contents ⨯ warnings: 10 year age gap (idk if that’s important lolol), spectrophilia (sexual attraction to ghosts), hybristophilia, lots & lots of angst, tiniest bit of fluff, murder (obvi), obsession, hair kink¿ (is that even a thing?), mentions of death, blood here & there, spirits (duh), swearing, dirty talk, masturbation, voyeurism, orgasms, unprotected sex (protect yourselves!), oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie

↳inspired by: Tinashe’s “In Case We Die” mixtape

☞ disclaimer: Please do not take this story 10000% serious. I promise I’m a normal human being with morals. This body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

The flash of lightning from the storm and shuddering sound of thunder overtake the gloomy night. The lock clicks as Taehyung pries open the back door of his neighbors’ family-style home. Silently creeping through the kitchen, the lingering scent of a delicious dinner from hours ago fills his nostrils. His senses are peaking, adrenaline is rushing, skin perspiring.

No, this isn’t his first time killing someone. But it’s the first time that he feels things are a bit off. Like he chose the wrong house kind of off. Sweat drops dripping down his forehead, palms are sweating profusely. He knows every single crack and crevice of this house but the feeling is still uneasy.

He stammers in his tracks, thrown off completely. What is the matter? I’ve been doing this for years, he thinks to himself. Is it the fact that he has history with this family? The numerous framed pictures on the wall catch his attention as he stands before the stairs. Or maybe it’s because of you.

He sees the family portrait, with you placed in the middle surrounded by your parents. His heart suddenly drops. The sight of you staring back at him through the photo causes his fists to clench.

Why does he want to kill you? Should he rethink his entire plan? He was 10 years older than you, but had known you and your family for just as long. He wanted you all to himself. Sure you were a young, eighteen-year old, naive, high school senior but he knew it wouldn’t be possible. Especially since you have a boyfriend.

Prom night was a memory he would never forget. Your parents asked him to escort you and your boyfriend in his stationwagon. When he arrived at your home to pick you up, he admired the way your prom dress hugged your figure in the most sexiest way. So much that it made him have wild thoughts about you, leaving him a horny mess at the end of the night.

He remembers storming into his home and locking his bedroom door shut. His fingers run furiously through his black mullet, chest heaving up and down, sweating profusely. Full of rage, frustration, lust, and regret. He unbuckles his belt to drop his pants and briefs all in one go, aching to release his tension.

His member pops straight up, rock hard as he plops on his bed lying on his back. Closing his eyes and picturing you in your prom dress, he wraps his slender fingers around himself and gradually pumps. “Fuck,” he whispers. If only he could rip the material away from your tight bod to expose what he’s been craving for so long. He relishes in the memory of your bouncy, curled hair, filled of volume and basked in the scent of hairspray.

The simple thought of how it would feel to tug your strands between his fingers whilst he penetrates you. He continues to play your voice over and over again in his mind, when you called his name: “Taehyung!” greeting him with open arms, when he arrived at your home. The tantalizing aroma of your being captivated him in that moment. He pumps faster, the sound of your voice echoing through his eardrums.

Lips begin to part, his breathing hitches in the moment. Your face is all he can see. Your voice is all he can hear. Your scent is all he can smell. Your body is what he needs. His member leaks of pre-cum, coating his tip in the liquid as it oozes out. He lets out a breathy moan, calling your name.

The feeling of your skin clinging to his, while he’s on top of you. Both of your bodies scorching and sticking to one another, binded with perspiration. Your moans escaping your lips from under him, inspiring him to pound deeper into you. Your nails scraping his back, your squeals and cries for him are what send him over the edge.

“Taehyung!” you yelp.

He loosens his grip on his throbbing cock, gently stroking up and down. His chest rumbles as a lengthy moan slips from his lips. His lower area tenses up, and his member spasms. He uses his unoccupied hand to grip his bed comforter, twisting and turning the material around as the pleasure washes over his body. The stream of liquid, pooling from his balls to his tip, shoot up in the air and land back on his pelvic area.

“I’m... cumming, fuck.”

The strands of his jet, black hair soaking in sweat and sticking to his forehead. His eyes flutter open, chest heaving up and down, he continues to escape from his orgasmic high. Taehyung stares up into the ceiling, and takes a deep breath.

He props himself up on his elbows to gaze at the cum that’s smothered on his lower half. If only you were there to clean his mess with your mouth, so that he wouldn’t have to waste another tissue to wipe away his jizz and toss it in the trash. He swears, under his breath, at the thought of it.

Then, he’s reminded just how lonely he is. He couldn’t stand seeing you with your boyfriend. Just the thought that someone else got to touch you, kiss you, and worst of all: fuck you. All the things he’d been dying to do to you. He always wished he could snap your boyfriend’s head to end it all. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything.

He didn’t want to see you hurt, and most importantly he didn’t want you to hate him. Besides, he knew you would never accept him if you found out he’s a serial killer. For years, he became obsessed with the idea of death. He targeted women, because he knew how much more vulnerable they are than men.

That gave him authority and control. In college, he’d done an ample amount of research on life after death, near death experiences, the supposed “afterlife,” and even spectrophilia. There had been a few rare cases of humans having sexual encounters with ghosts.

He also found that if a spirit was not rested, it would linger on Earth within the Spirit World or “Afterlife” as they call it. And based on the research he had done, spirits mostly were not rested in peace because the body itself was murdered.

That was when the idea sparked.

He had finally came to the conclusion that he has to kill you. If he can’t have you in this life, then he could have you in the afterlife. His plan was going to work, and he was going to make sure of it.

Yet another clash of thunder snaps Taehyung out of the pondering thoughts he’s having of his premeditated actions. He shakes his head. Snap out of it! Must not have any second thoughts at this moment. It’s important to stick to the plan. No distractions.

His eyes follow his path ahead of him. He quietly removes his shoes before proceeding further. His light weight causes a slight creak in the stairs, as he mindfully approaches the second level. His eyes dart toward your room, and his heart beats profoundly.

He continues to scan his surroundings, reassuring that no one was around or watching. Being careful in case someone were to awaken. Lightning strikes again, creating a brief flash of light throughout the home. Taehyung silently treads toward your room. He stops in front of your door, inhaling a deep breath.

Taehyung carefully wraps his hand around the door knob, slowly turning it in a counter-clockwise motion. He takes one last breath before pushing the door open gradually. The slight creak in the door startles him, but he’s back at ease when he steps inside your room to find that you’re still sound asleep under your covers.

The door behind him is shut quietly, and he turns around. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, taking in the aroma of your room. His right hand slips into the knife pocket attached to his jeans, pulling out the weapon with a needy force, exposing the blade of his bowie knife. He places the knife face down and sneaks it between his chest, inside his corduroy jacket. He continues to stand there simply admiring the view of you in your slumber.

It’s time to put an end to it all.

It’s Sunday in the month of May. You’re home alone with your parents enjoying the remainder of the night. Seated on the couch between your parents, you hear a ding! Your mouth waters at the sound of the microwave beeping. Your buttery popcorn is ready.

You hurriedly skip to the kitchen before the next program on TV comes on. The air from the steamy kernels fills your senses. You quickly grab one of those big, plastic bowls to dump the popcorn in.

“Sweetheart, it’s the news!”

Coming! you respond. You make it back to the living room and plop down on the sofa. The TV stutters a few times, as it did 20 minutes ago. This time your dad gets out of his comfy spot and he does not look happy.

“Goddammit! Nancy, I told you we shouldn’t have bought this from that damn yard sale. You know Tim would sell a lemon for a car if his life depended on it.”

“Oh hush it, Carl. At least we have some kind of entertainment. Right, sweetheart?” your mother asks directing to you.

You nod your head while stuffing your mouth with popcorn. Your dad continues to swear under his breath and pound on the TV with his fist. He fumbles with the antenna and the television gradually comes back to life.

“There we go,” he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and finding his way back to his spot beside you on the sofa.

I repeat. This is John Turner with Channel 4 News. For anyone that is just now tuning in.. Today we have received new information from the local police department on “The Silent Creeper” who has yet striked again.

“Are they still trying to find that crazy man killing all of those women?”

“Last I heard he was about 10 miles from here.”

“10 miles?!”

You can’t hear reporter John at this point, with your parents going back and forth, “Shhh!”

The three of you stare at the TV, in need of answers. Someone hands the reporter a vanilla folder.

“I will now read the statement that the police department has released.”

“To the townspeople, we want to make everyone aware that our team is working diligently to capture the criminal that has continued to terrorize the surrounding areas for the past 3 years, but whom has now reached our town as well. The Silent Creeper was last seen in our town on Friday night.”

You hear your mom gasp. “Oh my God! Friday was prom night!”

“Mom!”

“He assaulted a victim with a deadly weapon and attempted to strangle her with a telephone cord, only to be startled when the cord sparked as the victim was still alive. Realizing that he had not succeeded, he fled the scene. Unfortunately, we had not been able to arrive on scene in time enough to catch him from the time the victim called the station.”

“As each day passes, we are getting closer to putting The Silent Creeper to an end. In addition, we were able to get a brief description from the victim. He is a fair-skinned male standing at about or around 6 feet tall with black hair, medium length. Long enough to touch the base of his neck along with bangs that cover his eyebrows. He is said to have large hands and a slim figure, carrying a knife blade. He is also known to have a hair fetish, collecting samples of head hair from his victims.”

“We ask that everyone locks their doors and windows. Please leave at least one light on in your home that can be visible in the front section of your home, as well as your front porch light. We advise that no one goes out at night unaccompanied. We highly recommend that no one leaves their homes past 10 p.m. whether accompanied or not, until we catch this criminal. Should you have any dire reason to leave your home past those hours, please call the station before doing so.”

“Lastly, we ask that everyone remains calm but stay alert and aware of your surroundings. Please do not answer your doors for anyone late at night, unless you are expecting a visitor. We are currently working on a sketch of the criminal and plan to release it by tomorrow afternoon. Should anyone have any information regarding this case, please give the station a call.”

“Well, there you heard it. Stay safe out there, folks. This is John Turner with Channel 4 News, signing off.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and the program shuts down. Leaving the TV screen in a color coded background. Your mouth is agape, not believing that the town you grew up in is now not safe. The one place that you called your home, is now a prison.

“He was here?” you slip.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” your mother says with a pokerface.

“Honey, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine,” your father responds almost nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry?! Everything is going to be fine? There is a murderer out on the loose and that could have been OUR daughter! She was out all night for prom with Jin!”

Your head begins to throb with a slight pain, hearing your parents constant bickering. You place the popcorn bowl on the couch and get up to walk towards the stairs, but stop in your tracks and rub your temples with the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah, at the school! That’s why Taehyung escorted them both! At least we are well aware of what the hell is going on in this damn town so we can be prepared!”

“Oh, it’s just so easy for you to brush this off because you are too wrapped up in that... that job of yours to be concerned about your own child’s safety!”

“I don’t have to put up with this! If it makes you feel any better, I do care about Y/N’s safety! She is MY daughter.”

“Well if you care, Carl. Start acting like it!”

You finally crack. “ENOUGH!”

Both of your parents snap towards you.

“Can you both please just stop? It doesn’t make the situation any better with you two arguing.” You pause for a brief moment, recollecting your thoughts.

“Dad, it’s okay if you’re scared. I know your my father and I know you feel obligated to protect me. But I want you to know that I know you’re human. I know you aren’t invincible. And there’s nothing wrong with being scared.”

They both look at each other then drop their heads low.

“Mom, I don’t want you to worry yourself to death. Dad’s right, I was with Jinnie and Taehyung on prom night. And nothing happened. Maybe it’s for a reason. We just have to believe that everything will be okay. At least we know now what we should be aware of and what to do to protect ourselves. I love you both.”

Your dad looks up and walks towards you, with your mother following behind him.

“We love you more, pumpkin.” He states with open arms, embracing you with a hug filled with love. You mother joins the two of you, wrapping her arms around you both.

Meanwhile, Taehyung sits in the dark, at his kitchen table, sipping coffee. He stares into space. Today’s newspaper article sits in front of him on the table, with the headline that reads:

THE SILENT CREEPER STRIKES AGAIN!

He knows he’s fucked. He sips the last swig of his coffee, rises from his seat, and angrily throws the mug at the wall ahead him, the ceramic pieces shattering onto the cold tile.

His fingers find the newspaper, and he tears it apart. Paper pieces landing on the ground. Rage fills his being and he lets out an absurd growl, while pounding on the kitchen cabinets. He runs his hands through his dark mullet, replaying Friday night over and over again in his head.

After coming home that night and releasing his tension, he was alone and he knew it. He needed another rush. Something to get him going. Something to get you off of his mind, because you were all he could think about.

So, what did I do wrong? What is happening to me? What if they catch me? Numerous questions continue to run through his mind. He had been doing this for over 3 years. Why would it all end now?

He's like an expert at this. If he gets caught now, that means all of his work meant nothing. All those times, he had elaborate plans and every one fell through perfectly. So what is the difference now?

He rests his hands on the counter with his arms extended all the way out. Sweat trickles down his forehead as his breathing calms down. The kitchen is filled with silence, leaving a ringing noise in his ears when suddenly it stops as his eyes trail up and through his kitchen window.

The blinds to the window in your room were open, and he could see you. Then it finally hit him, it was like a light-bulb flicked on with an idea in his head. He realizes that he can’t function because of you. You are a distraction. You are ruining his ways. And it is in this moment, Taehyung realizes that he has to kill you tonight.

Before he gets caught for good.

You remember your last night on Earth as if it were yesterday, literally. It wasn’t until you felt an unbearable stinging sensation on your neck that you had awaken from your deep sleep. You felt a warm liquid pooling from your throat, delaying your breathing. Your eyes shot open, and there was Taehyung Kim towering over you. Small spurts of blood shot onto him, covering his cheeks, chin, and forehead.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was him. The man you called your neighbor for so many years. Whom you trusted your entire life. You would have never guessed that it was him all along. That he’s The Silent Creeper.

The shine of the moonlight reflected off of his knife, as he held it up. With a hungry force, he plunges the knife into your abdomen. Completely taking your breath away. As much as you tried to fight, you couldn’t.

He had you pinned down with his thighs. You couldn’t move or scream. His large, cold hand covered your mouth to conceal any noises you attempted to make. He removes the blade from you and plunged into you again, causing you to choke. You gather up enough strength to claw at his biceps with your nails, only to fail because of the jacket that conceals his arms.

It was useless.

You knew that it was over. You were going to die. You try opening your mouth to question him. To beg him to stop what he was doing. To probe him as to why he was doing this.

Had I done something wrong? Did I say something wrong? What could cause him to kill me? Why would he want to kill me?

But the last plunge into your tummy makes your hands drop. Noticing this, he drops the knife on the floor and busies himself by cutting a portion of your hair.

Bringing it to his nose to take a lengthy wauf of it, he inhales deeply into his lungs. Your vision blurs as you lose consciousness. You attempt to grab him again, only being able to reach his right cheek. You wanted to scratch his face, to dig into his flesh in hopes that he would makes enough noise to awaken your parents.

But you didn’t have the strength. Unfortunately your hand could only caress him instead. Something you did not want to do. Your hand slowly lost its control as it slid down from his face, to his chest, then to his abdomen, and finally plopped onto his thigh.

Your breathing stopped, but your eyes remained open. You can no longer move, not even a finger. That’s when you knew you were dead. It was strange at first. When you realized you were no longer looking up into his eyes.

Instead, you were watching him from above. Like a birds view.

Where am I? Why am I not lying in bed? I mean, I am still in bed but it’s like I’m floating in the air, staring at my body lying in bed.

You watch Taehyung as he observes your body drenched in a pool of blood, that continues to soak your bed sheet. He simply sits there, tilting his head left and right and caressing your cheek.

“Why couldn’t you just stay out of my way?”

He takes another sniff of your luscious locs in his hand. What does he mean by that? How was I in his way? You attempt to reach out to him but nothing happens. You have no arms, no hands, no fingers. Nothing. You were just there. The fact that you’re dead and can no longer defend yourself, let alone stop him, pissed you off.

“Now look at you. My work here is done.”

His work? What?

He may be “done” with whatever it is he’s talking about, but you weren’t. And you were going to make sure of it. Once you figure out how you can control what’s happening to you. You take a moment to accept what’s already happened.

So why now? You hadn’t even begun to start your life. Graduation was this week, and you couldn’t even make it! And Jin? You can’t imagine how devastated he would be once he finds out you’re dead, murdered actually. Is there anyway you could see him for just one last time?

All you want is to see his gorgeous face light up as his plump, pink lips curl up into the brightest smile that could blind anyone that looks his way. It hurts you to know that you couldn’t even say goodbye. Or just a simple I love you. Just one more time. You needed him, and you know if he could have been there for you to save the day then he would have done so and much more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you noticed Taehyung lifts himself off of you, planting his feet on the floor of your room. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and cracks his neck. What is wrong with him? How could one be so cruel? You always saw him to be such a gentleman. Guess you never really knew him all along.

Taehyung kneels down to grab his knife, and quietly sneaks out of your room. You can’t believe that he manages to escape, without a trace. Without anyone knowing what has happened. Only you knew who killed you. You knew who The Silent Creeper is, and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You can’t stop him. You can’t just call the police station to let them know: “Hey guys! You know that creepy guy that’s been killing all those women? Yeah, The Silent Creeper. He’s actually my neighbor. Oh, how do I know? Because he killed me!”

You’re filled with a grand amount of anguish just thinking about it. Your killer walks free as if nothing has happened, as if he didn’t just stab and slice you to your death. You want to scream, fight, hell maybe even just pound on something. But you can’t. You’re stuck “here,” whatever “here” is.

And you want out. You want to end his life. Just as he ended yours. But you won’t back down, not until he gets what he pays for. Even if it takes to haunt him for the rest of his life.

He will pay.

I’ve got to get out of here. You attempt to walk, knowing that you can’t yet you try anyway. But instead of actually moving, you find a way to float down, so now you’re eye-level with your surroundings - as if you were actually walking. Your essence floats throughout the room. You focus your direction towards your room door and just like that you float straight through it and now you’re on the other side.

You continue to float, making your way to your parents room, just so you could see them one last time. You find them sound asleep. The anguish slowly dissipates, and now there’s an overwhelming feeling of gloom. You didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. Your mother lays there on her side, as you watch her chest heave.

Your father on the right side lies on his back, snoring with his mouth open. You approach your mother closer, and try yet again to touch. Just to see if she could feel your presence. You reach out to her, hopefully that you could feel her and her hair strands rise up into the air. She shifts tosses over in the bed; and you immediately let her strands go, afraid that you might awaken her.

I love you mom. I love you dad.

After leaving your parents room, you guide yourself downstairs and through the front door. Then, the world you see from your perspective is revealed. It’s quiet, cold. Everything just seems blue. And there are others like you. Ghosts, souls, spirits, or whatever you call them. They float through the night. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like another world.

Where am I? Is this where people go when they die? If so, what is “this” called?

Faint whispers echo around you. You can’t quite hear what is being said or who is saying it. Then a sudden voice from behind scares you.

“Hey.”

You’re startled to find a spirit within your path. She was beautiful, but she seemed young. Maybe just as you or younger.

“Hi?”

“My names Katie. And you?”

You continue to observe your surroundings, noticing you both are now the only ghosts in plain sight.

“My name is Y/N. Where exactly am I?”

She clears her throat, attempting to speak.

“Well, you’re in the Spirit World as we call it.”

Your eyes widen. Spirit World? Seriously, what the hell is going on?

“I don’t understand. Why am I here? I mean.. I know that I died, but.. why here? Why do I have to be here?”

She watches you in concern, gathering up the correct words to explain.

“Please, come with me. I will tell you as we float.”

Katie leads you on the way down the road of the town. She explains that souls wander Earth when they haven’t been rested. In your case, your soul was not rested because someone murdered you. She also made it clear that throughout time, you’ll find yourself shifting into different ambiences, usually replaying old memories or high peaks during your previous life; or sometimes shifting due to something deeper - such as a premonition. You also learned that she’s 18, just like you.

“Well, if that’s true then were you murdered?” You question her, curious to know as if any more information would make you grow more at ease.

“Yes, I actually was.” She whispers, barely audible.

“Do you also know who your killer is?” She grows silent. You almost take it as a sign that she wouldn’t answer you.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me.” You plead, feeling a slight bit of guilt.

“It’s.. it’s okay. It was my mother that murdered me.”

Your jaw drops, and you immediately feel a thousand times worse for even asking.

“Katie.. I-I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how you feel. How long has it been?”

“18 years.”

You’re confused as you ask, “18 years? But you said you’re 18?”

“Oh, silly me. I also forgot to mention that in the Spirit World, you don’t age.”

It all makes sense now. Which brings you to yet another question.

“Well, how come you’re still here? I mean, after all those years. I’m sure that we don’t just die to be stuck in the world we once were in, right?”

“That is true, but from meeting others like us, I’ve learned that the reason why souls like mine end up trapped is because our killer is still alive. And in my case, my mother is still alive, even though she’s been captured for her crime many years ago.”

You both re-approach the street where your house sits next to Taehyung’s. Then, immediate thought hits you. What if he gets caught? Then what? I’ll still be stuck here? I don’t want to be here forever. I want peace. Everlasting peace. You attempt to probe Katie with more questions, but as soon as your mouth parts, all you can grasp is that your surroundings are swiftly changing, as if you’re slipping into a different atmosphere.

“Shit, Katie! Everything is changing! What do I do?”

“It’s okay. Remember? It’s totally normal! You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Everything around you dissipates, until there is absolutely nothing left. You watch as your home vanish piece by piece before your eyes. Your mouth flies agape, paired with that feeling of somber again. Your cries can’t be heard, as you helplessly reach out to the place you once called home. The one place you don’t want to leave. Everything you’ve ever felt and experienced was in that house. As the last remaining portion of your home dissolves, you immediately feel yourself being pulled down into a vacuum. It’s pitch black.

No air, no light, no humans, no spirits, just pure blackness. The feeling of a wet substance under you causes you to look down. Water? Your eyes trail up ahead of you, and you’re stunned to find Taehyung yet again. He looked as if he was in a rush. He removed his jacket, flannel, boots, and jeans.

Hurriedly throwing his belongings into the washer. He bends down to grab a box of baking soda, pouring copious amounts on his clothes, and slamming the washer door shut. The atmosphere ascends, slowly piecing itself together. A few blinks later and you realize that you’re in the basement of his home. He rushes up the stairs and slams the basement door shut, locking it. You continue to observe the area.

Your attention is caught by a small area behind you in the corner. You lightly float to the spot and pull the light metal beads that hang from the light which sits above you. The light flicks on, and you’re instantly taken away. It’s an entire wall of newspaper articles about The Silent Creeper and photos of numerous women that were reported missing and/or bodies have been found.

You scan through each report, only to find that all of them had things in common. They were stabbed to death, with patches of their hair missing. You also noticed for each photo he had of every victim, their wads of hair were attached to them.

Are these all of the women he’s killed? If so, then why? What possesses him to commit such horrid acts?

Then you noticed your photo, along with your hair attached to it. Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud from above.

Curious to know, you move up the stairs and through the basement door. You float through his home, searching for the source of the noise you heard. You make a slight left turn after passing the kitchen, and gently walk down the hall. You hear faint sounds coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Ones that sounded like… moans.

The door slightly cracked, you peeked through the small space that granted you access to see. Taehyung plops onto his bed, and you’re startled when you see he’s furiously pumping his erect member.

“Ugh, Y/N.”

You stop dead in your tracks when he mentions your name. Are you kidding me? He kills me just a few minutes ago, and now he’s moaning my name while jacking off?! That’s it! I’ve had enough! That feeling of rage courses throughout your spirit, and you forcefully enter the room he’s in, before thinking of what you are doing.

Taehyung hears a slight creak from the door and feels a gush of wind washing through him. His eyes immediately snap open and he flinches. Goosebumps appear on his arms. He stares into the space where the door is and looks like he’s seen a ghost, literally. He notices that the door is open – more than what he originally positioned it.

Did the door just move on it’s own? He thinks to himself.

Oh shit, you thought. Can he see me?

He quickly pulls his white undergarment over his member, and slowly walks toward the door. You simply stand there, shocked at what just happened. He treads through you and peeks down the hallway. His deep voice resonates within the home.

“Hello?”

Nothing and no one responds.

“Is anyone there?”

Still no response. He takes this as a sign and steps back into the room, shutting the door behind him. He walks through you again and falls back onto the bed, removing his tight fitted briefs staring at the door. Cock springing free, he bends his arm in a “V” shape and rests it behind his head.

His fingers find his cock again and he pumps slowly. Pre-cum dripping from within his tip, creating a squelching noise as he continues to pump. You can’t help but feel uncomfortable watching your killer masturbate. But, you have to admit that he does look hot.

After all, he’s a guy. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive. Of course, you always thought he was. But, that’s besides the point. You shake your thoughts off, and focus on the real reason as to why you’re here. Which brings you to more questions…

Why am I here? What am I to do to him? If I couldn’t physically touch him, how could I ever hurt him? How am I supposed to kill him? Do I even want to kill him? I just want all of this to end already. I need answers, but most of all I need Seokjin. I have to find a way to get to him.

Maybe I could write a note or something. To tell him I miss him and love him, and that even though I’m gone, I will never forget him. But how could I do that? If no one can see me, feel me, or touch me, how could I ever say goodbye to Jin who was once my boyfriend?

“Ahh, baby. Fuuuck, cumming.”

You’re interrupted by the sounds of Taehyung moaning again. Your gaze trails over to him on the bed, pumping furiously as streams of white sperm gush from his throbbing member. He moans your name over and over again as if it were a chant. You’re disgusted and amused all at the same time.

You simply cannot comprehend how he could jack off after murdering someone. He’s seriously sick. If he just killed you, why would he moan your name as he orgasms? It just doesn’t make sense. You can’t take seeing anymore of him, as you’re convinced he’s mentally ill. No person with benevolence would do such a thing.

Let me out of here! I have to see my boyfriend. Please! I just need to see him.

Once again, the atmosphere deteriorated. Gradually shifting the ambience.

The world pieced itself together once again, and here you are standing in the gym entrance of your high school. The sound of music booming from inside, students standing in line waiting to enter the building, and roars emanating from cars entering the parking lot.

Prom night? But... why am I here?

You stand there dumbfounded. Then the sight of you and Jin walking with arms interlinked catches your attention.

You wouldn’t want to spend your prom night with anyone else other than your boyfriend Seokjin Kim. You were attired in a hot pink satin dress, with ruffles at the bottom and on the shoulders paired with the white corsage. Your hair was curled in the most bounciest way. Jin stood tall, wearing a black and white tuxedo along with a hot pink bow tie, rocking his signature dirty blonde mullet.

Before entering the schools gymnasium, you look back to find Taehyung’s stationwagon is still parked at the entrance. He waves you both off. Jin nudges your arm to get your attention.

“Babe, look!”

You both stare at how well everything came together. Admiring the streamers and disco balls hanging throughout the gym, the confetti scattered over the floor, and the heart pounding bass of Wham! playing.

“Woah, the school committee really did an amazing job!”

Jin spies the area where the photographer is taking photos of each couple in front of a backdrop.

“Hey, let’s go get our picture taken!” he pulls you along with him, almost making you tumble.

On the other side, Taehyung still stands in the same spot from when you last saw him. He takes a deep breath while making his way into the automobile, closing the door shut. He rests his head on the steering wheel.

If only I could have her instead of that douche bag of a boyfriend she has.

He sits there contemplating on his next move. What should he do? Should he stay here? Or should he leave then return an hour later? He needs to blow off some steam, and being here another second is not helping him at all. He slips the key in the ignition and pushes the gas pedal with his foot, taking off into the night.

After releasing his tension at home, he still felt like something was missing. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he needed so desperately for it to stop. And he needed it to stop now. He hopped back in his stationwagon to scout for his next victim. Several minutes later and he finds a ranch on a farm.

He parks his car, and reaches under the seat to grab his infamous knife. He exits the vehicle and pops the trunk to acquire a tire iron then hikes up the trail towards the home. It was a small home, and no lights were on. He assumed whoever was inside may have been asleep, noticing a car parked in the driveway.

Gripping the tire iron firmly, he makes his way toward the back of the home to find an entrance inside. To his luck, he finds a back door and smashes the lock with the tire iron, prying the door open. He quietly steps inside and just when he thinks he’s got things under control. An older female flicks the kitchen light on, startling Taehyung.

“Shit,” he drops the tire iron on the floor.

The woman lets out a piercing screech and rushes over to reach the rotary phone on the wall.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Ignoring his commands, she grasps the phone, yet it slips between her fingers as Taehyung races toward her and plunges her against the wall with his body, pulling her away from the phone and against him. He wraps his arms around her, holding her still.

“No! No, please don’t! No, I don’t want to die, please!” The woman sobs, as her fingers graze across Taehyung’s jacket.

“Now, now don’t worry. It’s okay. Shh, shhh..” Taehyung whispers, caressing her face as he slips his other hand into his pocket to obtain his clippers.

“Please don’t hurt me, I promise I won’t say anything!”

Taehyung chops a wad of the woman’s hair, taking in a quick sniff before stuffing it into his pocket along with the clippers. The woman gathers enough strength to kick Taehyung in the knee. He groans at the pain and releases his grasp around her.

“Ahhh, fuck! You bitch!”

He limps to the tire iron and lunges it toward the woman’s head, causing her to drop on the floor of the kitchen. She lies there with a small gash to the head, blood slowly streaming down her face.

Taehyung bends over to pick up the phone that was hanging on the ground. He kneels down to lift the woman up, wrapping the cord around her throat.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you off that easily.”

Despite her breathing, he pulls the cord tighter around her throat, attempting to strangle her to ensure she was dead. And out of nowhere a powerful spark emits from the cord and the woman’s eyes shoot open. Taehyung bounces up on his feet and stares in awe, the woman gradually awakens and coughs, using her arms to prop herself up on the floor.

She turns her gaze to him, getting one glance before he storms off into the night. He bolts down the trail, panting, and nearly out of breathe. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His plans never failed. His fingers shaking, he fumbles around in his jacket pocket to get the car keys so he can open the door.

Moments later, he’s speeding down the road, en route to the high school.

Someone had clearly spiked the punch, because after a few cups, you and Jin suddenly became hornier than usual. And after a few dances, it really set the mood. “Careless Whisper” started playing. It was your favorite song and he knew it.

“Come on Jinnie, dance with meeee.” You whined, pulling on his arm.

“Babe, I’ll be right back I promise okay? I have to pee really bad.”

“Pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

“Bring me back more punch!”

He smiles at you and blows a kiss, walking away to the boys restroom.

You couldn’t believe that you didn’t notice this that night. But Jin never went to the restroom. Your spirit follows him as he sneaks out of the gym door, and entered the hallway of the school. He kept looking back, to make sure no one was following or watching him.

At the end of the hall, he makes a left turn. And enters one of the classrooms, shutting the door behind him. It was Mr. Hopper’s chemistry class. What’s he doing in there? You’re startled when you peek through the window of the door. He was inside with another girl.

You float inside the room to find that he was making out with her. Oh my God! He cheated on me with Jessica Jefferson?! The rudest, blondest bitch of the school. She runs the clique with other mean bitches and they always torment freshman.

That familiar feeling of rage fills you. You’d been dating Jin since junior year. Everything was perfect. I mean, sure you both had arguments here and there. But you both were inseparable. You were convinced that you’d spend the rest of your life with him.

Is this why I’m here? To see that he cheated on me?

You decided to leave the classroom and check on your human self. You remembered sitting on the bleachers of the gym, waiting for your boyfriend to return. You also remembered seeing Taehyung through the door of the gym entrance. You waved at him at first, with a bright smile. But, he didn’t wave back. He simply stood there, eyeing you like a hawk.

It was such an uncomfortable feeling. You awkwardly look over to the students dancing, to try and break the eye contact. After a few beats, you look back to see if he’s still standing there but he wasn’t. Just like that, he was gone. Why was he watching you? More importantly, how long was he standing there watching you until you noticed? You never understood why. That is, until now.

"Boo!”

You screamed as your boyfriend startled you from your trance.

You shove him on his arm. “Asshole! Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry, babe. Just thought it would be funny.�� Your expression gives it away, as you continue looking at the door Taehyung was standing behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. Let’s just go.” You grab Seokjin’s hand.

“Hey, I know the perfect place.” You stare into his almond-shaped eyes, admiring the way they curl as he smiles.

You follow yourself as Jin drags you to the boys locker room.

Although, you’re still curious to know why you’re back at prom night, this day merely now a memory. You watch as the being that was once you, straddled Jin on the bench before the lockers. Your tongues dancing with each other.

He supports your back with his hands, running down to your waist. Your fingers tugging through the thick strands of his mullet, while your hips grind onto his erect member that hides underneath his suit. Gushes of arousal coat your panties.

“Mmm, babe. I’m so horny for you,” Jin moans.

He plants kisses along your jaw, your head falls back taking in the nostalgic feeling all awhile simultaneously laughing. The alcohol clearly in your system. You bring yourself up to whisper in his ear.

“Let me suck you off, baby.”

You stand up to give him room to remove his trousers and briefs in one go. His cock is rock hard, sprouting up and free. You bend over to drop a line of spit on his cock, using your hand to spread it all over his shaft. He hisses at the feeling of your warms hands massaging his member.

“You’re so hard, Jinnie.” You giggle as you let yourself down on your knees. You tease him, first giving his tip a few kitten licks before opening your mouth wide enough to fit his thick cock inside. You enclose your mouth around him, gaining another moan.

He watches you from above, teeth grazing against his bottom lip.

“Yes, Feels... so good.”

His hips buck, moving to the rhythm of your mouth. You use his thighs as leverage. Moans escape you as he continues his pace, sliding his lengthy cock against the soft texture of your tongue. Saliva trailing from your mouth onto his member, and back toward you sliding down your chin and neck.

Jin places his hand on the back of your head to push his cock further down your throat.

“Fuck.. Just like that. Don’t fucking stop.”

The gargling sound of your spit echoes throughout the room. The stretch your throat feels from his cock causes your eyes to water, making it difficult to keep them open.

“Look at me, babe.”

You follow his commands and look up at him. The sight of you stuffed full of him in your mouth along with watery eyes is nearly enough for him to climax all over your face. The burn in your lungs to breathe approaches. You graze your nails rapidly against his thighs hoping he would get the memo. Thankfully, he pulls out the way out.

You let go of his cock with the sound of a pop, taking a deep inhale to regain your breathing back. You look up at him while pumping his cock in your palm.

“Jinnie.. do you love me?”

His eyes widen at your question.

“Are you kidding? Of course I love you, baby. You’re my everything.” He wipes away the tear that falls from your eye, still gathering your breath together from the deepthroating session. With a lustful look in your eyes, you plead,

“Show me, then.” His lips curl into that gorgeous smile. He guides you up on your feet.

“Bend over,” he commands. You support your weight on the bench with your arms, doing as he tells you so. You feel your dress being lifted up. His fingers trace along the shape of your vulva, feeling the dampened material.

“How horny are you, baby?”

“Mmm so horny. Please just show me already.”

His fingers find the seam of your panties, pulling them all the way down until the drop to the floor. He licks to the pads of his fingers and rubs them along your folds.

“Wow, so wet. Just how I like it.”

Your pussy pulses, aching to feel his cock inside of you. A small groan leaves your lips.

“You want me baby?” He coos while brushing his soaked member across your drenched folds.

“Yes, please. Need your cock.”

His hand grips your waist while the other eases himself in you. The bulbous tip stretching your lips, causing you to whine. Your wet coats his cock as a lubricant as he pushes in further, making it easy to slip in all the way.

He uses his remaining hand to place on your waist and he completely bottoms you out.

“Fuck, Jinnie!”

“I love you, baby.” He pulls out of you completely and rams back all the way in, balls deep inside your pussy, making you buck forward and your mouth to fly open with a gasp.

“I love you too... Oh my gosh, so deep.”

Your arms reaches around to push him back, attempting to ease his pace, but he slams harder into you. You claw his thigh with your nails, in response. The pain of him pounding himself deep inside you, hitting your cervix combined with the pleasure of your walls being stimulated leaves you in a state of reverie.

“Mmm, I love your pussy and how tight you are around me. Wanna make you cum all over my cock, babe. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes! I can, baby.”

Jin picks up the pace, literally hammering into you. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass, mixed with your moans, ricochet off of the walls. He licks the pad of his fingers and reaches down to rub your clit in circles. Applying just the right amount of pleasure.

Your spirit continues to watch, remembering that prom night was not only the last time you’d saw your boyfriend but it was also the last time you both had sex with each other. You miss the way he felt inside of you. He filled every bit of you and never failed to please you in the most sensual way. He always made sure you orgasmed before him.

“Oh, Jinnie... I’m cumming, baby!”

“Yeah? Cum all over my cock, babe. There you go...” Your walls pulse rapidly around his length and your body trembles below him. The constant contractions of your kitty around Jin causes him to twitch inside of you.

“Oh, babe! Fuck..” His cock shoots streams of his warm jizz, coating your inner walls white. He holds himself inside, making sure to bury his seed deep within your core. Your legs still shaking, he holds you to support you up from your orgasm still washing over you as thick ropes of his cum oozes out of your pulsing core. He bends over to whisper.

“Do you believe me now?”

Funny that he asked me that in the moment. Because I actually believed him. I really loved him. And I thought he loved me too. So, why would he do this to me? He continued acting like nothing ever happened. He lied to me. He never went to get punch. Would he even care that I died? What am I supposed to feel like now?

That familiar feeling of rage returns again, and you storm out of the lockers room. This time, you decide to find your way to Taehyung. Maybe you can get an answer as to why he was staring at you.

You find him sitting in his stationwagon, in the parking lot of the school, frozen. A million questions run through his mind. He’s lost, and he knows he’s doomed for good. Gently floating inside, you sit in the passengers seat. His hands are nervously rubbing his thighs up and down.  As if, he were afraid of something. Then you’re shocked to hear him speak.

“I have to kill her... but when? And how? What if I try and things don’t work out just like tonight. What will happen then? Was this a sign?”

His fingers trail through his mullet, and he keeps looking back.

“Fuck! I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what to do.”

He was talking about me? Wasn’t he?

“She’ll never accept me for who I am. I just want her. Want her so bad. Why can’t I just have her, God? Why?!”

Was he into me this whole time? Is that why he killed me? Because he somehow thought we could be together?

As time went on, you still roamed the Earth as a spirit. The sketch of The Silent Creeper had been released, and it wasn’t long until everyone figured out it was none other than Taehyung Kim. The town constantly tortured him. Kids threw eggs at his home windows, others threw rocks at his car, and some teenagers spray painted on his garage door:

MURDERER LIVES HERE

But you were there for him through it all. The night he’d found out that you were here all along, startled him. Even though it was part of his plan. There was a sense of pride that filled him, knowing that it had worked. But as the days came and went for some reason, you felt drawn to him. You thought at first maybe it was because of pity, but it was something that pulled you in closer. That made you more vulnerable. Maybe it was the sex? As the weeks went by, you both continued having sex with each other. You never thought it was even possible to have sex as a ghost, but here you are yet again.

“Oh fuck, baby.. yes! Just like that, Y/N. Don’t stop.” Taehyung moans as you continue to ride his cock. From his point of view, it literally looks like he’s fucking air. But his eyes are closed, as all he can imagine is your tits bouncing up and down, your head falling back with lips parted, relishing in the way his cock feels filling up your walls. He feels the warm, wet of your arousal clenching tight around him. He uses the palm of his hand to grip your hips, helping to guide you up and down on his cock.

He feels your walls suddenly escaping from him, and he frowns. Looking down at his throbbing, stiff member. Then a warm slick feeling encases his cock, and traces of saliva are visible. He throws his head back after realizing you’re sucking him off. His fingers reach out into the air, wanting to find where your hair is so that he can feel you. A small smirk appears on his face when his fingers are finally entangled in your mane.

It’s smooth, silky, and feels like Heaven between his fingers. He tightens his grip, pushing your head further down onto his cock. He watches as his member leaks of pre-cum, mixed with your arousal and saliva. The mixture streaming all the way down to his balls. He’s on the verge of cumming any moment now. He feels the texture of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, moving down to his testicles. Your nails gently grazing across his thighs, leaving behind a small trace of scratches.

His breathing hitches, as he feels himself near his orgasm. You hold his cock in your throat, swallowing him whole and you take this chance to hum. Your vocal cords vibrating around his cock. The sensation deep within the pit of his groin bursts. His eyebrows furrowing together at how intense his orgasm feels.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

The muscles of his pelvic area tenses up, his cum shooting into streams down your throat. He watches as it disappears into thin air. He knows you’ve swallowed his seed. He sighs of relief, completely satiated of his hungry desire for you. That is, for now. Chills run through him as he feels your lips pressing against his. His eyes naturally closing.

What feels like your hands gripping his arms, caressing his sides, makes him melt within your touch. He reaches his hand up, caressing what feels like your cheek. He doesn't want to stop kissing you. He’s waited for what felt like an eternity for this. In an instant, you pull away. Watching him as his eyes slowly open.

How have I come to fall in love with a murderer?

Taehyung’s confession on prom night had continued playing itself over in your thoughts. Leading up to now, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since. After thinking of the first time when you visited him, and he saw the door open when no one was physically there, you contemplated visiting him again. It was the first time you both had sex, ever. Well more specifically with you as a ghost.

Just as before, he was in his room masturbating. This time he was fully naked and his door was opened wide. He was a lot more lanky than you thought, with a faintly visible six pack. His hand slithered up and down his shaft, and small moans escaped from him. You actually loved the sight of him getting off. It’s pretty hot.

You had taken the chance to show him you’re here, just as he always wanted. It was that day you learned Taehyung isn’t able to exactly see you, but he can feel you. As if you are actually there, in the spirit. Either way, the sex was like no other. He even told you that he was ready to die, just so that he could actually be with you. Not only to feel you, but to see you. Touch you physically. You being there as a ghost was like a hallucination for him, and he knew eventually he would grow tired of not being able to see your face as you writhe underneath him.

Your parents immediately moved out of state after finding out who The Silent Creeper really is. They were completely stunned. Before moving, your dad quit his job. On the contrary, your mother couldn't move on. After all, she was the one that found your body mutilated in your bedroom. It became so horrifying for her that her doctor ordered her off to a licensed therapist.

Things were bad. Really bad. Seokjin appeared at your funeral. After it was over, you followed him home. He was so full of rage that he completely tore down his entire room. Ripping off the wallpaper that once decorated his walls,  cracking his vinyls in half that he had tucked away under his bed, until he came to a specific one. It was for “Careless Whisper” by George Michael.

He pops the vinyl into the record player, and sets himself on his bed as the songs begins.

“Should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I'd been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you”

Tears stream down his cheeks, and he covers his face. His sobs can be heard throughout the room. You observe as his back rises up and down from his heavy crying. You wish that you could kiss him and slap him at the same time. You wish he never cheated on you, and you wish you never died. Maybe it would hurt less not knowing he did such a thing.

After sex with Taehyung, you decide to visit your home again, wanting to bathe in the memories there. But something has caught your attention. Just as you floated outside, four police cars were parked in the street in front of Taehyung’s home. They were all armed with their guns, aiming at the front door.

One officer had a megaphone, calling Taehyung out of his home.

“On the count of three, we ask that you please come out with your hands up in the air! Should you try to harm anyone, we will have no other choice but to open fire.”

You watch as Taehyung cracks the door open slowly and exits with his hands in the air. Then, he stops, quickly reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out his bowie knife. You’re shocked at the action, but he had been at the end of his ropes with everything. And just like that, the officers open fire.

Piercing his body with bullets, and one going straight though his forehead. His body grows limp, falling into his knees and the weapon drops to the ground. Taehyung falls face forward onto his lawn.

The environment shifts again, and you’re blinded by the color white. Holding your hands up to cover your eyes, trying to escape the brightness that causes your eyes to shut closed. Then the sudden sound of a deep voice captures your attention.

“Do you wish to repent your sins before me?”

Looking down, you carefully open your eyes and notice that you’re able to see yourself, your hands, skin, feet, toes, everything. Standing above you is the Almighty, a bright source of light that is still difficult for your eyes to adjust to.

I must have been sent to my judgment.

You hear numerous cries below you, noticing the Underworld below the clouds under your feet. Lightning flashes as several fallen angels snatch souls away, sweeping them into oblivion. You’re instantly distracted by another deep, baritone voice ahead of you. Not like the previous voice you’d heard. It was a voice you found to be familiar.

“Are you calling me a sinner?”

You can barely make out the figure, but realize that the being is suddenly caught by one of the Fallen that sprung into the air down below, flying away. You hear a faint call of your name in the distance. You look down below you and spy a familiar face. It was Taehyung. 

“Y/N!” His hand reaching out toward you. A tear falls from your face watching him being pulled away from you.

The first voice you heard speaks again, directing His question to you this time.

“Do you wish to repent your sins before me?”

You turn your gaze toward the Almighty towering above you. Your eyes closed shut yet again from the light. You shake your head and slip with a slight confidence in your tone:

“No.”

a/n: aaaand that’s all everyone! can you guess what happened to Y/N after not repenting her sins? let me know in the comments! I’ve had this idea in mind for soooo long now & wanted to release it on Halloween but I’m a thousand days late pls forgive me. also pls forgive me if this is horribly edited ok it’s like 1 AM, oh & I’m wondering if I should write a sequel to this (promise it will be much more smutty smut & focus more on Y/N’s perspective) let me know in the comments if you’d like to read more! anyways, I hope you all had a fun and safe Halloween!

much love, 💜

[alexanderlightweight]

the catastrophe of success

ao3 link

inspired by this  <a href="https://thatpersonyouknowthatperson.tumblr.com/post/188513064588/lullychi-everyone-whos-been-talking-to-me-knows" rel="nofollow">art post</a> 

“Did you hear about Magnus Bane?”  Izzy asked gleefully, her eyes gleaming with the delight of some new gossip and Alec sighed.  Mournfully looked at paperwork and wishing he’d remembered to lock his office before settling down at his desk.

“I’ve told you to knock,” he reminded his sister gently and she only laughed, sitting on his desk and he had to move fast to rescue the book she nearly pushed off.  “Isabelle!” He said sharply, cutting her off before she began her tirade, “I’ve told you to knock .  It was not a suggestion.”  He stayed firm, determined not to be moved by her pout and finally he won, she winced a little as he pointedly looked at his desk and the mess she’d made of it.  

“Right, sorry hermano,” she said and stood up shuffling his things about as if that would help, “but have you heard about it?  The High Warlock of Brooklyn?”  

Alec sighed, even when reprimanded his sister wouldn’t be deterred and he shook his head, unwillingly fond of her spunk.  “No Izzy, I haven’t heard anything new about Mr. Bane.”  

“Alec really?”  Izzy despaired, “we need to get you out of this office more!  You can only do so much from behind a desk, you need to interact with people more.”  Alec snorted and moved his paperwork so that it thudded loudly. The work he had to do was the amount after he had delegated, “right okay, well Magnus Bane.  He’s pretty much the most eligible bachelor in the downworld. Handsome, rich, smart and powerful but he won’t seriously date anyone, hasn’t in over a century!  Apparently even one of the Seelie princes tried to woo him and he refused.”  

Alec, who currently had a stack of marriage proposals waiting to be burned, sympathized with the man.  “Okay, so he’s a catch?” He asked, unsure where she was going with the story.

“He’s the catch.”  She said and grinned, “but I guess he got tired of it because he has a cat and he put a key on it’s neck, whoever can get the key and use it to enter past the wards of his loft, he’ll date.  Maybe not forever, but at least he’ll give them a chance.” Izzy finished, excited and apparently completely enraptured by this new bit of news and Alec, he was dumbfounded.

“That’s actually brilliant.”  Alec muttered quietly, “I should get a cat.  Thanks Iz.”

“What?  Alec no, I was just catching you up on the story.  In case it came up at your next cabinet meeting, I know you were planning on inviting him.”  Izzy laughed but it was gentle and fond and he knew she meant well.

“He’s declined coming,” Alec admitted, “or well, close enough.  I’ve been trying to get a meeting with him but unable to. I’m actually headed there sometime this week to talk to him in person.”  Izzy clapped her hands on his desk in glee and he glared, “no Iz, I’m not going to tell you if I see a cat, key or not.”  

She laughed, blowing him a kiss as she left his office and Alec watched to make sure she shut the door before sighing and risking a glance at all the messages from Idris’ most eligible bachelorettes... dammit but he really wanted a cat now.

-

“Are you Magnus’ cat?”  Alec asked the small feline on the landing and it looked at him warily, paw raised in the air, “here, let me help.”  He offered and before he or the cat quite knew what he was doing, he’d picked up the animal and set it on his shoulder, “I have to go up there anyway, I’ll take you with me.”  He explained, unsure why he was telling all of this to a cat, but honestly, it was the best conversation he’d had all week. “You must be pretty tired, Izzy- she’s my sister, said that everyone is all excited about catching you.”  He rolled his eyes and then laughed a little when whiskers tickled his jaw, “I wonder what your name is.” 

There was a meow, as if in response and Alec chuckled again, “here we go, think Mr. Bane is home?” He asked the cat, knocking on the door and waiting.  

He didn’t expect an immediate reply but after a few minutes and several more attempts at knocking with no response, he sighed and stepped back.  “A message than,” he muttered to his only audience and leaned back against the wall as he penned a note and sent it with his stele. It left, only to bounce back immediately and nearly smack the cat in the face, it yowled, claws digging harshly into Alec’s shoulders and he smacked the offending letter away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he shushed and slid to the ground, letting the cat jump into his arms and then lowering it so it could curl onto his lap.  He patted gently at its face, trying to check for any burns, “okay, I think you’re okay.” He sighed in relief and continued to scratch at the cat’s fur, “sorry about that.  I didn’t even think about if he had wards up, you’re okay though.”  

The cat meowed as if in agreement and then froze, wide-eyed and Alec realized why.  A low clinking noise had rung out and against his hand, resting on his family ring was a small metal key.  Without thinking he caught it, rubbing it between his fingers curiously before he realized what it was, “oh!  Iz told me about this, well.” Here he gave the suddenly wary cat a smile, “I don’t think Mr. Bane intended for people to use it to enter his home just for a meeting, let me fix that, okay?”  He dropped the key but followed the metal of the collar, making sure it was tight enough and then trailing his finger down the bewildered cat’s face to bop it’s nose.

“You need to be careful,” he told the cat sternly, “someone could hurt you to try and get that.  I’m sure you’re just as important to Mr. Bane as his heart, so maybe work on hissing at people.” The cat meowed, an adorable little sound and Alec grinned, happy when it head-butted his chest, “I wish I had a cat like you.”  He admitted, “or one similar. It’s a brilliant idea, except all my stupid suitors are in Idris, or whatever it is you call the equivalent of females wanting to marry you.” Alec huffed and shook his head, “I don’t want to marry any of them.  Even if I did want to marry, it wouldn’t be a woman and that’s all that’s asking.” He realized what he’d said and looked down at the cat who was watching him calmly but whose eyes widened in response to his own panic. “I know you’re a cat,” he said softly, “but maybe don’t tell anyone that bit, okay?”  

It took a moment but finally the cat meowed and nuzzled his face, causing Alec to laugh and catch the small thing in a gentle embrace.  “Thanks,” he said and pressed a kiss to the velvety soft top of the cat’s brow, “you’re a good kitty.”

When he finally gave up on meeting the infamous Magnus Bane, it was to the cat’s dismay and he nearly tripped down the stairs trying to get it to stop weaving between his ankles or climbing up his calves. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised, “not now but I’ll be by again.”  He gave it one last chin scritch before leaving and his farewell was a reedy, mournful little yowl that almost instantly cut itself off.  He may have only had the company of a cat, but Alec felt better than he had in months and grinned the entire walk home, at least until he caught sight of the Institute and his customary glower slid into place.  

-

He received a fire message that night from Magnus Bane and after some confusion let out a low laugh of relief, maybe the cabinet was finally starting to take him seriously.

When he finally did meet the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he lost his breath.  

Magnus was, Magnus was gorgeous .  Utterly breathtaking and Alec nearly walked into the doorframe from surprise.  He was also magnanimous and far more welcoming than Alec had been led to believe he would be; immediately ushering Alec in, offering the use of his first name and making him a drink.  Alec hadn’t protested out of sheer bewilderment and the purpose of his meeting was almost forgotten in the mix of all the hospitality when he heard a meow. It was a tiny sound and if Alec hadn’t known about Magnus’ cat, he probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

“Oh, your cat!”  He exclaimed and couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face as he noticed the cat outside on Magnus’ balcony door, “I met him last time, when I stopped by.”  He explained, hoping Magnus wouldn’t think him one of his many stalkers, “he was a very good host. Can I say hi to him?”  

Magnus’ looked more than a little shocked but then he smiled tightly and waved his hand, opening the door and letting the cat in.  It didn’t come right to Alec and he wasn’t expecting it too, but he did drop to his knees, hoping the cat would remember him enough.  It took a few minutes and Alec probably should have been more professional but the two drinks he’d had made him bold and he cooed happily when the cat finally came over and pressed against his palm.  “Hello sweetheart.” He murmured, “what a good cat you are. Can I pick you up again?”  

Alec wasn’t really sure why Magnus looked so shocked when he stood up with the cat, “uh, does he normally not like people?”  He asked, a little confused as the animal purred happily in his arms and Magnus laughed almost hysterically as he summoned a drink.

“I don’t know,” Magnus finally said, “I have a variety of strays that I take care of.  He’s never seemed particularly interested in people or coming inside before,” he gave the cat a stern look as he spoke.

“Oh, he was very friendly when I met him the other day.”

“Of course he was.”  Magnus muttered and took a long sip of his drink, “dirty little traitors, all of them.” 

Alec looked from the cat in his lap to the balcony and suddenly grinned.  It was probably far too intimate a question to ask but between the buzz of alcohol and the weight of a warm cat, he felt as though he had courage in spades.  “Magnus, do you have a clowder of cats?”

“I beg your pardon,” Magnus choked, “a what?”

“Sorry, a group of cats.  Do you have a group of cats that are messing with everyone who wants to go out with you?”  Alec explained and waited eagerly for the answer, curious as to just how many cats Magnus might have.

“Alive for centuries and I’m still dumbfounded by the nonsense people come up with.”  Magnus muttered quietly and then he sighed, a hesitant, almost shy smile on his face. “Yes Alexander, you’re correct actually.  Honestly, the entire thing is ridiculous, as if I would ever entrust my happiness and commitment to a key and a domesticated animal alone, however the rumor is working well enough to deter unwanted admirers and us immortals can always do with a fresh piece of gossip.  Undoubtedly this one will go into legend and become grossly exaggerated by next year, let alone a century from now.”

Alec absorbed that and hummed thoughtfully, there was no collar on the cat this time and it licked at his hand, raspy tongue tickling his skin.  “So the key is a red herring?”  

“It’s not about what the key opens but what getting the key implies.”  Magnus confided, “and more about metaphors and less about actual keys. Even if it didn’t have to do with subjecting myself to some random victors company, my home has far too many valuables for me to just let actual keys go scurrying about.”  

“That makes sense.”  Alec said and then grinned, lifting his own drink which only had a few sips left, Magnus refilled it with a wink and Alec fought back a blush.  “To uh-” he paused then, unsure what to toast and Magnus grinned at him, all sly and smooth and Alec felt his mouth go dry.

“To us,” Magnus suggested and Alec nodded quickly, hiding a secret smile of delight in his drink as they toasted.

-

It was a little while before he saw the cat again.  He still didn’t know it’s name but he was pretty sure it was the same one.  He hadn’t meant to stop by Magnus’ but one of the warlock’s buttons had fallen off his jacket at the cabinet meeting and Alec wanted to return it.  He could have simply messaged Magnus, now that he had the man’s number but he knew that Magnus didn’t like the Institute, and had decided to take it there himself.  

Alec resoulely did not think about how he knew the button belonged to Magnus, or the fact that he’d admired the other’s intricate jacket and how it hugged his muscles for far too long.

He knocked on the door to no avail and while disappointed, he decided to go around and climb up to the balcony.  As much as he would have liked to see Magnus, he didn’t want the trip to be in complete vain and he could leave a note.  It was a quick climb, more of a jump with his runes activated and when he landed it was to a symphony of startled yowls.

“Whoa,” Alec said softly and he held a hand out in apology, “sorry about that.”  

Magnus hadn’t been kidding about all of his cats, there were at least half a dozen that he didn’t recognize and they were all upset, backs arched and hissing as he carefully made his way to the little table Magnus had out there.  Alec quickly scribbled a note and placed it along with the button on the table, it seemed a little foolish now that he’d done it but he resigned himself to suffering through the minor embarrassment.

Next to him, a calico cat was curiously sniffing his boots and then it meowed, pawing at his leg.  Alec grinned, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a moment so he did, petting the cat’s soft fur. Soon enough he was surrounded by cats, all of them purring and meowing for his attention so loudly that he never noticed the click of the balcony doors or the dark black cat that walked out.

He did however notice when the cat yowled, a loud almost violent shriek and then it hissed, startling the other cats away until it was the only one near Alec.  It gave a smug little meow and then tossed it’s head back to stare at him with pleased, luminous eyes.

“Hello you,” Alec said fondly, “you remember me this time then?”  The cat meowed as if in answer and pawed his leg, waiting for his arm to lower before hopping up and curling primly on his lap.  “You’re my favorite,” Alec whispered, a little secret between the two of them as he scratched under the cat’s chin. It chirped, purring and stretching and he paused, finger curling into a familiar metal collar.  

“I know he said they were metaphorical,” Alec mused aloud, “but you’re the only one with an actual collar and key.  Are you Magnus’ favorite as well?” The cat meowed and nudged his hand and Alec gave a little sigh, sliding his fingers free so he could smooth down the cat’s fur, “he’s my favorite too.”  He admitted, “so you should be careful with that key okay? I know it’s just a metaphor but he deserves happiness.” The cat meowed, nuzzling against his chest and Alec relaxed, content to waste an hour enjoying the sunlight and kitten cuddles, if Magnus did come home, well he still had the button as an excuse.  

-

“Payment, procured in full along with the thanks of the New York Institute, Mr. Bane.”  Alec said and he placed what were once confiscated tomes of old magic and a small bag of gems onto Magnus’ coffee table, “a pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Well, you know I have the utmost respect for the Head of the Institute, Mr. Lightwood.”  Magnus practically purred and in the firelight of his loft, his eyes almost glinted gold, “now that business is seen to, on to pleasure?”  He held aloft a glass of wine and Alec nodded with a soft grin, happy to be invited to stay and eager to spend more time with Magnus.

“Thank you,” he said and took the glass, trying not to shiver as their fingers brushed.  The first sip of wine was heady, rich and deep and the color of it matched Magnus’ shirt.  A shirt that was unbuttoned nearly halfway and he wore several necklaces, one with skulls and another with a simple delicate silver key that gleamed when he moved.

“I’m glad you came by,” Magnus told him earnestly, “and not just because you paid your bill.”  

Alec fumbled with something to say to that, his tongue heavy with the weight of so many unspoken thoughts and he was rescued by a meow and the grating noise of claws on glass.  

He opened the balcony without a thought and suddenly he had a meowing cat at his feet, excitedly pawing at his shins.  He thought it was the same cat he normally petted, though at the moment this one lacked a collar and it definitely was the one he’d snuck all those treats to the last time he was here.  

“Hello sweetheart,” he cooed and then his ears turned red as he realized Magnus was watching him.  He straightened and sipped his wine, darting a quick look at Magnus’ through his lashes only the find him watching Alec, as though entranced.  

“They really are quite taken with you,” Magnus finally said and while there wasn’t a hint of accusation, Alec hurried to explain.

“They’re sweet, all of them really.  I like them.”  

“I’m glad.”  Magnus said and then gestured to the couch, “a seat perhaps?  You’ve been hard at work and you are off the clock.”

Alec nodded, deciding not to mention that as a shadowhunter, he was never actually off the clock.  Magnus sat on the other side of the couch, turning to face him and crossing one leg over the other and Alec nearly broke his wine glass with how hard he clenched it.  “Thanks for helping us on such short notice,” he said, “I know you’re busy but I- well, the Institute appreciates it.”

“The Institute merely paid me for my services.”  Magnus chided gently, “I answered because you called, Alexander.”

Alec licked his lips, tasting the earthiness of his wine and he wondered if Magnus’ stained lips held a similar flavor.  A sharp prick to his leg jolted him from the dangerous path that thought led to and the next thing he knew, he had a very smug cat in his lap.  It purred happily as it circled across his lap, kneading his thighs before settling contentedly. He chuckled, resting one hand on it’s head and petting it as it batted his wrist and purred.  

When he looked up, Magnus was watching him with narrowed eyes, the hint of a glower on his face.  

“Did I do something wrong?”  He asked, unused to Magnus glaring at him so openly.  

“No such thing, darling.”  Magnus assured him, “they’re simply not normally allowed in the house and they’re definitely not allowed on the furniture.”

“Sorry.”  Alec immediately apologized and he scrambled to set his glass on the coffee table, sinking to the floor next to the couch, cat still cradled gently though it hissed at the disturbance.  He resettled on the floor, leaning against the couch as he spread out his legs and looked up at Magnus who now seemed closer somehow.  

“This okay?”  He asked and he could have sworn that Magnus’ eyes flashed.

“They’re spoiled, ungrateful little terrors who don’t understand how lucky they are,” Magnus said and he sounded almost jealous which was absurd.  “For you though, I’ll allow it.”

-

It was only a week or so later that Alec was back at Magnus’, drinking a pale pink drink and nibbling on bread and oil, while the warlock was in his office on an important phone call.  It was a bit later that he heard rustling and turned to see a cat, his favorite, by the couch. Alec winced and then bit his lip in consideration as the cat happily leapt up next to him and pressed against him, demanding the affection and adoration it deserved.  

“You’re not supposed to be on the furniture.”  Alec whispered and the cat paused from where it had been nuzzling him to blink in near disbelief.  “Come on sweetheart,” he said and picked up the cat, retreating with it to the balcony for undisturbed cuddles.  He dozed off out there, cuddling the darling thing and when Magnus finally woke him, all apologies and a warm, strong hand on his shoulder, the cat was gone.  

-

Alec sighed as he waited on Magnus’ balcony, fall was coming and with it a chill on the wind.  He was wearing a soft warm sweater and he stretched, wondering how long it would be before Magnus came home.  They’d gotten into a sort of pattern, where if Alec stopped by and Magnus’ wasn’t home, he was free to wait on the balcony.  At first, he’d been worried about disrupting Magnus’ wards but the warlock had just laughed, looking at him with fond delight and told him not to worry.

Today was one of those rare days when the balcony was void of cats and Alec drifted in his thoughts until he heard a meow.  It was his favorite of the cats, standing next to him and looking up at him expectantly. With the practice and trust built from hours of cuddling, Alec scooped the cat up and buried his face into it’s scruff, peppering kisses on it’s soft fur and chuckling when it batted him playfully in return and nosed at his face.  

“I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” he said and grinned when it purred and kneaded his chest, claws delicately pricking through his sweater and he laughed at the tickle of them.  “I missed you too, baby.” He said and the cat gave a little chirp of delight, headbutting his chin and then blinking at him in slow delight.  

“Here we go,” he said and sat on the small loveseat outside.  Magnus allowed the cats on the outdoor furniture and Alec took advantage of that small fact, he stroked his companion delicately and was rewarded with it refusing to leave his lap.  Under his fingers the cool metal of a band protecting a key taunted him, reminding him that surely it wouldn’t hurt to use it, Magnus always let him in after all. He ignored the temptation and scratched under the metal instead, chuckling when the cat appreciatively pushed it’s head back, practically shoving the key into his fingers.  He didn’t know it’s name, Magnus refused to name them and Alec was happy to call them a variety of pet names in lieu of an actual address.  

At some point, the sun began to set and Alec wilted a bit.  As much as he adored playing with the cats, Magnus had yet to come home and soon it would be time for him to head back to the Institute.  

“Looks like I’ll need to head out soon,” he said softly and the cat on his chest meowed, grumpily kneading his collarbone in retribution for the disturbance.  “It’s getting late and I have teams to meet with.” Alec lowered his voice, “Idris sent me a bunch of green idiots who are going to get themselves killed if I don’t kick some sense into them.  Which means personally dividing the teams that go out, if Jace somehow ends up in charge of one, they’ll all get injured and come crying to me.”  

The cat’s whiskers twitched and Alec picked it up as he rose, tucking the cat to his chest for just a moment longer as he looked out at the colors blossoming in the wake of the setting sun.  

“I wish Magnus had been here.”  He admitted and stretched, feeling out which of his runes were still activated, “would have been nice to see this with him.”  He set the cat down with a last kiss and ignored it’s startled, sad little meow. It followed after him, making demanding little chirps the entire time and petulantly tangling it’s claws in the hem of his pants.  “See you later,” Alec promised and then he jumped, ignoring the angry yowl as he landed gracefully. He looked up to wave goodbye and for a moment he swore he saw a shadow over the balcony but when he blinked it was gone.  The trip back to the Institute was dull and his heart was lonely but even though he hadn’t seen Magnus, even just being near his home left Alec feeling a little happier.

-

The next few weeks were filled with snatches of time where he stole away to meet with Magnus.  It would only be a matter of time before someone noticed and called him out, but he hoarded the precious moments for now.  Magnus was... magical and while it hurt to know that the man had closed off his heart and wasn’t looking for love or a relationship, Alec still found himself falling bittersweetly in love with the warlock.  

He was climbing up to Magnus’ balcony in what seemed to be a familiar path for him of late.  He’d just been over for dinner the night before but had to leave early and Magnus had told him to come over the next day, asking him to just come to the balcony when he could.

Alec had agreed instantly, would have promised anything to spend more time with Magnus and he found himself looking over New York with a fond, wistful gaze.  The wind picked up, a brisk and steady blow that caused him to shiver and he almost missed the meow. He turned, startled to see the balcony doors wide open and the cat there, shiny black fur and an impatiently twitching tail as it stared him down.

“You inviting me inside?”  Alec asked, laughing as the cat meowed and he held out his hand, surprised when it refused to move. 

A little worried now, he stood and walked over to it, kneeling next to it and reaching out to pet it and it meowed at him, nudging his fingers and then backing up.  Hesitant, he followed and then sat next to it, “hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, picking up the cat and holding it to his chest.  

It looked at him intently, small paws on his chest and eyes fixated on him and Alec couldn’t help but grin, “you’re cute.”

There was a noise that almost sounded like hysterical exasperation and then Alec was on his back, blinking in confusion as the cat disappeared and Magnus took it’s place, pinning him to the floor and holding him down with hands that were much bigger and stronger than paws. 

“You,” Magnus said and Alec could barely breath as he looked up into gorgeous, glowing gold eyes, “are a ridiculous man, Alexander.” 

“What?”  Alec managed to ask and he licked his lips, breath hitching when Magnus eyed deliberately followed the motion.

“I have been offering you that stupid key for months now!”

“You said it was a metaphor!”  Alec protested, “you said all that cryptic stuff about the key not being a key!”

“I was being coy,” Magnus said and he let out a gentle, helpless laugh as he pressed his brow to Alec’s.  “Alexander, I already let you into my heart, you’ve had the real key all along, you just never took it.”

Alec just breathed for a moment, heart pounding desperately in his chest and brow against Magnus’ and he knew that if this was a dream he wouldn’t survive it.  

“You- you never said anything.”

“Clearly you’ve never dated before.”  Magnus muttered and Alec made a wounded noise at the low-blow, “Alexander, darling- we’ve been dating for weeks now.  Unofficially of course but well, once we clear all of this up, I’d say it counts.” 

Alec took time to think back over the last few months and bit back a strangled noise of realization, “oh fuck.”  He muttered and ignored Magnus’ chuckle at his language. “This whole time I thought you were unavailable but you were just waiting for me to catch up.”

“Yes well, if anything you’ve been the one playing hard to get and as much as I do love a challenge, I think I’m ready to claim my prize for winning.”  Magnus grinned down at him all coiled strength and raw power and around his neck dangled that one, delicate necklace with a silver key.  

Without thinking, Alec reached up one hand to touch it and the feel of the cool metal beneath his skin gave him a burst of courage.  Leaning forward he pulled, cutting off Magnus’ next words with a tug to the necklace and it was a rough kiss, full of surprise and joy and bumped noses but it was their kiss.  Magnus made a sound of delight against his lips and kissed him back with delicious fervor, one hand coming up around his to press Alec’s hand -necklace and all- against his chest and the other tangling with his hair. 

It was the start of something beautiful.

When Alec awoke the next morning, a warm firm body curled around his, an arm wrapped around his waist and Magnus’ breath tickling the fine hairs at the back of his neck, he wore nothing but golden sheets and a silver key around his neck.  The sunrise was a soft peach that snuck in with soft lines and he was about to drift back to sleep with realization hit and he aimed a little kick back towards Magnus’ shin.

“Ale’xand’r?”  Magnus asked, voice muffled by his lips against Alec’s skin and Alec determinedly ignored the shiver that it elicited.  

“You owe me so much cuddling.”  He said and against him Magnus shook with soft, tired laughter, “I spent hours petting you Magnus, literal hours!”  

A warm, strong hand ghosted over his side and settled on his hip, “don’t worry, Alexander.  I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”  

[mycupoffanfiction]

Witching Hour Part 1

Bucky x Reader

(an actual short series, not one where I tell you it’s like 5 parts but it turns into a 20 parter *cough* His Second Chance *cough*) 

Bucky’s best friend outside of the tower is seemingly innocent, running her bookshop with her brother J. But when supernatural happenings begin to occur, there might be more to the Reader than Bucky first thought. 

Warnings: Supernatural creature, violence (mild), slight mention of the use of practical witchcraft, language, protective Bucky, fluff.

Word count: 3500

Masterlist

Hellooo! Inspiration was running low on my other fics, so here is one I’ve already written, depending on how I split this up, it’ll be two or three parts. But I took the time to finish the full story before posting 😊💖

All taglists are always open 💗

___________________________________________

A storm was brewing, the wind picking up and making your old apartment creak. You sat on the windowsill, looking down at the empty streets below as rain lashed down, the faint glow of the streetlamps barely lighting up the pavement. The lamp closest to your building flickered a few times before going out and your whole building was plunged into darkness. “Can you get the breaker?” Your brother called through the apartment. “Yeah.” You sighed, getting up from the window seat, stumbling about the room until you reached the chest of drawers where you kept the flashlight.

 You made your way out of the front door and down the stairs into the bookshop below that you owned with your brother, J. Before you could move further into the shop, you heard a wooden creak and groan. You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself that it was probably just J moving about upstairs. You passed through the store floor to the back where the door to the basement was – your least favourite place in the building and you were quite unhappy that J hadn’t gone with you.

 You swallowed thickly as you slowly descended into the basement, moving your flashlight about nervously. You paused when the beam above you groaned under the movement above you, perhaps J had come down to the shop floor to check on you, perhaps you were taking too long. Resuming your walk down the steps, you made it into the basement and shuffled across the concrete flooring to the very back where the circuit breaker was mounted.

 With a huff, you pulled open the cover, a confused look crossed your features when you realised everything was as it should be. You nearly jumped out of your skin when a bang from above you could be heard, echoing through the quiet building. Your heart was pounding, but you knew how to keep yourself calm. It wasn’t one of those nights, you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for dealing with this kind of thing. You frantically fiddled with the breaker, hoping that you could somehow get the lights back on again.

Bang.

Your breathing picked up and you whirled around, becoming paranoid of your surroundings. “It’s nothing, it’s just your head messing with you.” You mumbled to yourself.

Bang.

It was much more forceful this time and you turned around fully, a streak of confidence rushing through you as you strode through the basement, quickly gripping a stray tool from J’s workbench on the way out. You crept up the stairs holding out the crowbar in front of you, poised to hit something if anything or anyone jumped out at you. “Sweetheart?” J called through from the shop entrance. You came back through into his view as you climbed the last stair, closing the door behind you. “Oh thank god.” He breathed out relieved. “Looks like the window latch is broken again.” He gestured over at the window at the other end of the store, swinging back and forth on its hinges, hitting the frame over and over again.

 “I’ll just get it; you go back up.” He instructed. “Right, uh, there’s nothing wrong with the breaker, must be our street.” You concluded; eyes fixed on the front windows as you watched the storm rage outside. “Must be the power lines.” You murmured, eyes squinting when you swear you had seen a glimpse of a figure darting passed the window. You were just paranoid, that was it, you would be fine. You were at home with J, nothing could possibly go wr- “Holy shit!” J yelled, causing you to bolt towards the back of the store towards him.

 A tall, pale, almost grey lanky figure stood in front of J, hunched over itself. It was grotesque, lips drawn back with its jagged and sharp teeth bare for you to see, dripping with blood. A horrifying scream ripped through it’s throat as it lunged at J, large hands reaching out and clawing for him, it’s fingers were morphed into long, sharp claws. You ran, dropping the flashlight in your haste and swung the crowbar, hitting the creature square in the jaw. It stumbled back, letting out a screech as it’s pure white eyes stared you down. You were frozen in fear, but stood poised, ready to attack, J sprawled out on the floor and struggling to control his breathing.

 With the blink of an eye, the creature tore out of the back window and into the night, leaving both you and J on high alert.

 ***

 “We have twelve reports from the same area last night, four dead, seven injured and a lot of people who swear they saw something inhuman.” Steve paced the room, briefing the small team, consisting of Bucky, Sam and Wanda. “What do you mean, inhuman?” Sam asked, squinting his eyes a bit. “I don’t know, some people say it was a demon, some of them said it was an alien. It could’ve been anything though.” Steve sighed, sliding the mission file across the table. “Shouldn’t SHIELD agents be handling this?” Sam asked, not receving an answer.

 “Best description we got was from a lady who runs a bookshop with her brother. They were attacked by whatever it was last night and she fought it off.” Steve pulled the statement out of the folder and handed it to Bucky. He paused as he read it over, a grunt came from him as he frowned. “Is she alright? The lady from the bookshop?” Bucky asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he kept his eyes glued to the paper. “Yeah, she’s unharmed, Buck.” Steve responded simply, Wanda knowing there was more to it than just simple concern as she shot Bucky a knowing glare, trying to prompt him to speak up.

 “Spit it out, Buck, you know something.” Wanda prodded him sharply in the chest as they filed out of the briefing room. “You know I’m not just gonna read your mind either.” She rolled her eyes before he could even comment on it. “Let’s just go speak to her.” Bucky tried to move away from Wanda, but she gripped his flesh wrist and stopped him from moving away. Bucky could easily escape her grasp, but he allowed her to stop him, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Don’t tell Steve, if he knows, he’ll kick me off the case.” Bucky hissed at her. “Your secret is safe with me.” She smirked. While she was being mildly playful about the situation, Bucky knew for a fact that Wanda was serious. Anything he ever told her would be said in confidence and she’d never tell another soul unless he asked her to. “She’s my friend.” Bucky sighed, closing his eyes. “A very close friend of mine.” He added, nodding at himself before turning back to see Steve and Sam motion impatiently at them to follow. “Whatever happens, don’t let this mission get to you.” Wanda patted him gently on the shoulder before giving him a reassuring smile and walking ahead to join the boys.

 “Bucky and Wanda, you two can visit the bookshop, we’ll take the Smith residence across the road.” Steve pointed in the directions before receiving a curt nod from Bucky. The pairs split off from each other and approached the respective buildings, Steve and Sam disappearing into a fenced garden and out of view.

 Bucky knocked a few times on the shop door and waited. A few minutes went by with no answer and he sighed, glancing over at Wanda. He knocked harder this time and waited until he heard rushed movements on the other side of the door and someone fiddling with the keys to open the door. “Hi Buck.” J put on a smile as he greeted your close friend. “Hey, this is Wanda, we’re here about the attack last night.” Bucky gave J a greeting nod and without a second though, J moved aside, allowing them to both enter the shop.

 “You’ll want to speak to my sister; I don’t remember much from last night.” He admitted. “You alright? You hurt at all?” Bucky asked. “N-no, nothing like that. All it did was push me but I don’t even remember that, I think the shock of it all just-.” He cut himself off before he could continue. “She’s upstairs.” He jutted his thumb out over his shoulder towards the stairs to the apartment above the shop. “She alright?” Bucky asked. “Mhm, handling it better than me.” He nodded, a nervous, wobbly smile making it onto his lips before J looked away and shrunk back behind the counter to busy himself.

 Wanda quietly followed Bucky up the stairs to the apartment. She didn’t say anything when he pulled a spare key out of his jean pocket but she gave him a look, wondering if his friendship with you was really just that, or if it was more considering he had a key to your apartment.

 Bucky unlocked the door and pushed it open, calling out your name into the apartment, knowing you didn’t mind him letting himself in. “Bucky?” You called out, poking your head out of your bedroom door. “Hey, darlin’.” Bucky gave you a soft smile, ushering Wanda into the apartment next to him. “J let you in?” You asked, walking out into he lounge area. “Yeah, we gotta talk to you about last night.” Bucky nodded, walking a bit further into your apartment. “This is Wanda, she works with us up at the tower.” Bucky gestured at you. “I know, I’ve seen you on TV.” You giggled, striding across the lounge. “Sorry, that was weird, I’m a friend of Bucky’s, he’s told me a bit about you guys other than what I’ve seen on the news.” You explained, holding out your hand to shake hers. “It’s nice to meet you.” Wanda gave you a genuine smile as she shook your hand, taking a moment to study you.

 “Mm, and you said the power went out before it started?” Bucky asked after you were finished recounting the story of the attack to them both. “Yeah, there wasn’t anything wrong with the circuit breaker, I checked it at least twice last night and then again this morning.” You explained. “Could’ve been the storm.” Wanda suggested, watching as Bucky took a sip of your homemade flower tea. She’d never seen him even want to touch tea, so it surprised her that suddenly in your apartment, he was even excited to have your homemade brew.

 “Is it alright if I speak to your brother? I might be able to help.” Wanda, glanced over at the door and you nodded, watching her get up and leave.

 “Listen, darlin’, I don’t want you here if this thing is around at night killing people.” Bucky sat up straight and rested his hand on your knee. “I know you protected yourself and J last night, but what if it comes back?” Bucky asked. “Trust me, we’ll be fine Bucky.” You reassured him, although no matter what you said would likely go in one ear and straight out of the other. “You don’t know that! Come and stay with us at the tower.” He pressed, gripping your knee a little tighter. Your hand came down to rest on his. “I know you’re concerned Buck, but we’ll be fine, really.” You smiled, squeezing his hand. “I-,” Bucky stopped himself and let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “Just be careful, okay? You call me and I’ll come runnin’, doll.” Bucky locked eyes with you, a look of desperation on his features and you knew he wasn’t going to let this go so easily, but that was quite understandable. “I know, Bucky. Thank you.” You leaned forwards, gently pressing your lips to his cheek. “Really, thank you, Buck.” You smiled, Bucky catching the sincerity in your tone and feeling a little more reassured by that. You were his best friend outside of the tower and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.

 “Keep all the doors locked, maybe put something in front of that stupid window tonight.” Bucky walked with you down the stairs to meet back up with Wanda. “At least do that for me, doll, otherwise I’ll worry all damn night about you.” Bucky whispered in your ear. “I’ll put something in front of the window.” You assured him. “Can’t have you losing sleep over me.” You smirked, knowing that you perhaps weren’t appearing to take it as seriously around Bucky as you should, but it was hard to when you knew how to deal with the situation. “Promise me you won’t go fighting that thing tonight.” You poked him. “You didn’t see it, Buck.” Your laid back demeanor faltering and turning serious. “Can’t promise anything doll, you know it’s in the job description.” Bucky sighed, pulling you close. “Call if you need anything.” He murmured in your ear before slowly parting with you. “I will.” You nodded, watching him duck out of the door into the shop and join Wanda, who waved goodbye before leaving.

 “You didn’t tell him, did you?” J asked after he’d bolted the door shut. “He’d worry himself sick if I did, J.” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “You didn’t tell him that you like him either, did you?” He smirked, crossing the shop towards you. “Time wasn’t right for that.” You shook your head. “According to you, there is no good time to tell him.” J rolled his eyes, shoving you playfully with his shoulder as he passed you to ascend the stairs. “I’ll secure the building; you gather the supplies for tonight.” J instructed before ascending the stairs. “Let me do it, J.” You protested up at him. “No, you need your strength for tonight, sweetheart.” He shook his head. You knew better than to argue with your older brother and sighed, nodding your head.

 ***

 “Any idea what this thing is?” Sam asked, flicking through the pages of Steve’s notebook where he’d scribbled down everything he’d heard from the witnesses. “Not a clue, reports seem pretty shaky.” Steve shrugged from the drivers seat of the SUV the team of four rode in. “We’ll stake out the area tonight, keep an eye on things, maybe have a pair of us split off and patrol just in case.” Steve rubbed his chin, keeping one hand on the wheel as he drove.

 “Not sure if it’s related Cap, but Maria said a guy went missing around here about a week ago just before we started getting reports of strange things happening.” Sam cut in, changing the subject as he read off the message Maria Hill had sent him. “Any idea what happened to him?” Bucky asked, glancing across at Sam who sat next to him in the back seat. “No, guy just disappeared, no sign of forced entry or anything.” Sam shrugged, rereading the report again. “Weird.” Wanda mumbled, looking out of the window, gazing at the streets of New York as they wove between traffic.

 She’d known something when she had been in your apartment. There was something about you, it wasn’t malicious or bad, but she knew there was something you weren’t telling her or Bucky. Something you kept guarded.

Perhaps you knew something they didn’t.

 “I don’t know what you mean.” Bucky let Wanda push him against the wall outside of his bedroom. “You know damn well what I mean, what’s she not telling us?” Wanda prodded him. “I don’t know Wan, I know she keeps some stuff to herself; the poor girl lost her dad a few years back, all she has is J.” Bucky squirmed, sure that you weren’t hiding anything big, at least he didn’t think you were. “Do you- you think she’s involved?” He asked, straightening out his black t-shirt. “No, but I do think she knows something.” Wanda shook her head. “I have no doubt that she’s a sweet girl, hell, she’s the only one I’ve seen that you actually allow to make you tea.” Wanda rolled her eyes, smiling up at him playfully. “What? Her tea is great.” Bucky scoffed, moving away from the wall. “It’s homemade.” He smiled to himself, obviously quite smitten with you, Wanda sharing a knowing smirk with him before stepping away. “I just think she’s not telling us everything Buck, just be careful.” Wanda sighed before walking away, leaving Bucky to himself.

 “Alright, me and Buck will take the trail of this missing person while you and Wanda stake out around the area.” Steve instructed Sam as they pulled up in an SUV to the edge of a forested area just outside of the neighbourhood. Steve and Bucky got out and watched as Wanda and Sam drove back into the suburb to keep an eye on things.

 “Where are we setting up tonight?” Wanda asked, sitting back against the front passenger seat, getting comfortable as Sam drove them back into town. “On the main street, might move us around a bit now and again.” He shrugged, pulling the car around a corner. “Maybe keep an eye on the bookshop, being a central point.” She suggested as she sat back in her seat.

 ***

 “This isn’t a good idea.” J huffed, pacing the apartment living room as you packed your backpack. “You don’t have a say, Bucky could be out there right now, dealing with that thing and get killed by it.” You were short and curt with him, fed up with his fussing. “I know you’re upset because you picked the short straw to stay here, but you need to trust me on this J.” You inspected the silver stake in your hands before you tucked it into your jacket before reaching for a silver knife and sheathing it at your thigh. “I put protection circles around the building, if that thing comes near here and it’s a Wendigo, it won’t be able to get in.” You explained, zipping up your backpack. “It was a damn mutated vampire.” He huffed, crossing his arms. You stared him down and raised a brow, J backing off slowly. “I know, just be careful, sweetheart.” He gave in, reaching out to grip your hand and squeeze gently. “I will.” You smiled, squeezing his hand back before moving away from your brother.

 You walked up to the edge of the woods, stopping to listen to the sound of movement not far from your position. You stepped into the dense forest, which you were familiar with like the back of your hand. “Come over this way.” You heard a familiar voice calling out through the woods. “I think there’s some tracks over here.” The voices began to move away and you quickly tried to identify where they were in case they were to stumble on anything potentially dangerous. As you walked through the woods, you kept a good distance between you and the people you were following.

 Bucky stopped to inspect some shredded clothing caught on the edge of a tree while Steve took a few steps ahead. Definitely a Wendigo. The missing guy from a week ago likely had the Wendigo spirit inhabit his body and mutated his figure into the monster. “Hey Buck, check this out.” Steve called him over, the pair of them investigating something as you inched around the area, keeping your distance as much as possible while still keeping an eye on him.

 You winced, cursing at yourself in your mind when you stood on a twig too fast and it snapped below your weight, the men in front of you whirling around to see if there was anything there. You caught a glimpse of Bucky and Steve and you instinctively held your breath and tried extremely hard not to move. “Someone there?” Steve called out, looking between the brush as you slowly backed away from them. “Hello?” He called out, neither of them paying attention to the direction they’d been going in before.

 A large, hulking greyish white figure approached, looming over them from behind and your breathing caught in your throat. Bucky was the first to realise something was lurking behind them and he slowly turned around and stopped, almost completely frozen at the sight. It let out a horrible, gargled scream, causing Bucky and Steve to scatter. You bolted off in a different direction, careful not to get involved with the boys and took a deep breath. “Steve, fuckin’ move!” Bucky grabbed him and hauled him out of the way of an attack. You let out an ear piercing, throaty scream, trying your hand at replicating a Wendigo. The creature perked up and paused for a moment, attention flitting back to the boys and then again in your direction. You took in a deep breath, ready to scream again but you quickly jumped into a sprint when you saw the Wendigo starting to go in your direction.

 “What the fuck was that?” Bucky breathed out, helping Steve up from the ground, both boys unharmed. “I don’t know, but I think there’s more than one.” Steve brushed his shoulder off. “We should get back to Wanda and Sam, m’not sure we’re equipped to deal with this.” Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulder, tugging him away from the scene.

Something was telling Bucky that there was more to this than whatever the hell they just saw. 

Maybe Wanda was right.

___________________________________________

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[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Keep Smiling Through

By George deValier

One-shot sequel to We’ll Meet Again

Summer, 1948 Nebraska, USA

.

In the few months since the ocean liner RMS Queen Elizabeth steamed into New York City Harbour, carrying Mr. Arthur Kirkland and the recently promoted Captain Alfred Jones with it, Arthur could honestly say he had never been so confused, so surprised, or so completely and utterly bewildered in all his life.

If there was one word Arthur could use to describe America, it was big. It was also loud. And confusing. And oddly marvellous. In fact, it was very much like Alfred himself. The American seemed positively ecstatic to return to his country of birth. He had been back once before, just after the war, but that had been without Arthur, and neither had handled the separation very well. Being alone again in the Emerald Lion, with his fears and his worries and his memories, was almost more than Arthur could bear. When Alfred finally returned to London Arthur had been so overjoyed he'd jumped on him in the train station, causing quite a few raised eyebrows and stunned stares and outright cries of outrage. So this time, when Alfred had to return to America for military reasons, Arthur accepted immediately when asked if he wanted to accompany his lovely, charming, bloody frustrating Yank.

Of course the trip turned into more of a sightseeing adventure than anything else. They travelled through more states than Arthur could name in their shiny red Chevrolet, stopping at more diners and lookout points and roadside oddities than he ever wished to see again. Alfred simply bubbled with excitement at showing Arthur everything he possibly could of the great United States of America, all of which had been somewhat bearable so far – until Nebraska. More specifically, until this airfield in Nebraska. Even more specifically, until this tiny, metal, claustrophobic, inescapable plane cockpit sitting on this runway in the middle of this wide, flat, golden field in Nebraska.

It did not take long for Alfred to convince the airfield staff to let him take up one of their planes. Not once they realised who Alfred was; the young trainees gathering in awed respect, the pilots telling their own stories of service during the war, the older engineers shaking Alfred's hand and sharing their memories of Alfred's father when he was a delivery pilot in the twenties. Alfred seemed far more comfortable with these men than the decorated, uniformed, highly-ranked military personnel who usually clamoured to shake his hand.

And now, Arthur wondered how in the bloody hell he had allowed himself to be talked into this. He tried to breathe past the anxiety choking his throat, struggling to suppress the growing fear in his chest. He took another look out the small side window at the long shadow of the wing on the runway. The sound of the roaring engine was almost enough to drown out the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I can't…" Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaking breath. "Alfred, I don't think I can do this…"

"Sure you can, Arthur!" Alfred spoke cheerfully over the clacking of the control keys. He slipped his free hand into Arthur's and gave it a soft squeeze. "Come on, look at me."

Arthur nodded, breathed out, and blinked open his eyes. He could really use a stiff drink right now - maybe he should have bought a few more of those jars of moonshine from that bloke in Ohio.

"You're okay." Alfred grinned at him from the pilot seat, his worn old bomber jacket slung over his shoulders, his bright blond hair poking through his flight cap and his radio speaker slung around his neck. "This baby's a breeze." Alfred patted the dashboard. "A good ol' Aeronca Chief - I used to fly one just like her before the war. Y'ain't got nothin' to worry about."

Arthur nodded again, tugged at his tight suit collar, and tried to remind himself that Alfred knew what he was doing. He'd been flying for years, of course he knew what he was doing. "I know, Alfred, I do, but…" But the rational part of Arthur's mind was completely overwhelmed by this instinctive, primal fear. How could he be sitting here in a plane, sitting here about to take off, about to fly into the air for the first time in his life… Arthur suddenly tugged on the belt strapping him into the seat. "I apologise for being a nuisance, but… but perhaps we could just wait…"

"Arthur, listen." Alfred spoke firmly this time, his blue, bespectacled eyes holding Arthur's gaze intently. "You're with the guy that once shot down seven planes, completely alone and with no radio contact, while running low on fuel and surrounded by an entire enemy squad. You're with the guy that's spent over three years training the best pilots the British military has to offer. And you're with the guy that loves you more than anything else in this whole damn world and would die before letting anything happen to you. Now, come on darlin.'" Alfred winked and Arthur's heart stuttered. "Let me take you to the clouds."

Arthur felt thrilled and giddy and frustrated and proud and bloody terrified all at once. He let out a low, groaning sigh. "That's utterly unfair."

Alfred beamed innocently as he pressed even more of the buttons and tapped the gauges and reached for the strange-looking little wheel. Arthur was rather amazed at how easily Alfred pressed and pushed and pulled what looked like a dozen controls at once with only his seven remaining fingers. "What's unfair?"

Those words, that wink, that blasted grin… "You know what, you bloody fool."

Alfred just laughed as the plane started moving along the runway. "All right, now, I'm getting her into takeoff position…"

Arthur's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Don't tell me what you're doing, good God man, just do it!"

Alfred shrugged. "All-righty then, if you say so." The plane continued steadily for a few moments before Alfred shouted, "Here we go!" The roar of the engine filled the cockpit and Arthur very nearly dived for the door. Instead he forced himself to control his panic, to focus on Alfred's confident motions and his bright, cheerful smile. But as the plane reached impossible levels of speed and noise, the runway blurring beneath them, Arthur could not help but close his eyes. Alfred cheered as the plane tilted and lifted from the ground. "WOO HOO HOOO!"

An invisible force seemed to attack Arthur. His stomach sunk through his legs, his chest compressed, and his ears felt full as blood rushed to his head. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was grip onto the seat and grit his teeth and pray that this shaking, soaring plane would not fall from the sky. The aircraft seemed to drop slightly and Arthur almost choked as he gasped, his hand flying to his chest.

"That's normal, sweetheart. It's just the plane gaining height."

Arthur was too overwhelmed to even object to the nauseating term of endearment. He just kept his eyes squeezed shut, felt his knuckles turn white. This was the oddest feeling he had ever experienced: both heavy and weightless, his head tight with pressure and his stomach empty and unsettled. It felt wrong, it felt strange, it felt completely mad, and how could Alfred be laughing and cheering like he was having the time of his life? Didn't he realise Arthur couldn't breathe here?

"Isn't this amazing, Arthur?" Alfred shouted loudly.

Arthur tried to reply but all he could manage was, "Oh bugger oh bollocks oh Christ blast shit bloody hell STOP LAUGHING!"

"Aw come on now, takeoff's the best part! See how everything just falls away below… hey look, there's our Chevy! I tell ya, these old controls sure bring back memories. Sure is different from all those Spitfires and Hurricanes they've got me showing off these days. Hey, Arthur, in a few minutes, I'll be able to show you the farm I grew up on! Hang on a minute… Arthur, why are your eyes closed?"

"Because I'm bloody terrified! Please, just tell me when this is over!"

Alfred's laughter quieted and he sighed instead. "Oh. All right. I'll just get her level and do a quick fly-round."

The disappointment in Alfred's voice sent a painful stab of guilt through Arthur's chest. What was he saying – that he did not trust Alfred? Yes, this was new and different and scary – but this was important to Alfred. This was his home, his past, his life - and Arthur was letting fear get in the way of Alfred showing it to him. Alfred was not even able to fly for long these days, not with the strain it placed on his damaged eyes. Arthur breathed through the cloud of fear, and told himself he could do this. For Alfred. "No, I'm fine, I'm just... Blimey, this is very odd, isn't it?"

Once again, Arthur felt Alfred's hand slip into his. "It's also amazing. Just look at the view below us. Isn't it terrific?"

All right. Just look. Arthur could do this. He gripped Alfred's hand, forced himself to open his eyes, and immediately gasped in shock. "Blimey," he said again.

An infinite blue sky stretched out around them. Green and yellow striped fields spread out below, dotted with dark houses and streaked with criss-crossed dirt roads, like a labyrinthine maze. The high, brilliant sun blazed down and drenched the endless, flat, open expanse of land in unfiltered, golden light. Arthur shook his head as he took it all in; he couldn't imagine any place in the world more different from London. Alfred's home was sunny, bright, enormous; awe-inspiring. And it was beautiful. Arthur turned to see Alfred grinning wildly, ecstatically happy once again. That same grin that Arthur still loved, as always bringing the blue sky and driving away the dark clouds of Arthur's fear and doubt.

"It's beautiful."

Alfred laughed, overjoyed. "I knew you'd love it! I tell ya, Arthur, the times I've dreamed of soaring through the sky together - and here in my own home..." Alfred winked. "It's magic."

Arthur's heart sped up, and it wasn't from fear anymore. The three years since the war ended had been more than Arthur had ever dreamt of. Every day with Alfred was bright and new and fun, every moment an adventure, and Arthur didn't know how it was possible but it seemed he loved the mad American more with every passing hour. Loved him enough to cross the world; enough to fly into the bloody sky for him. Arthur gently nudged Alfred's arm. "It is, Alfred. Magic."

Alfred's eyes sparkled behind his glasses, bluer than the endless sky. "Now keep your eyes peeled for one of them flying saucers like what crashed in New Mexico last year!"

Arthur groaned in exasperation. "That was a weather balloon, Alfred."

"That's what they want you to think."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. If he heard one more word about this blasted 'cover-up in Roswell...' "I am not having this conversation again."

"You'll see the truth one day, Arthur. Ooh, look, look!" The plane tilted slightly and Arthur gripped the seat as Alfred pointed past him. "Right down there - that wide dirt track, do you see it? That's the first runway I ever took off from! And I don't know if you can make it out, but there's my old house, on the edge of that little hill there, do you see?"

Arthur didn't, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, yes, it's lovely. Now put the plane back in that nice straight position, please."

Alfred giggled as he did so.

As the flight drew on, Arthur asked about the land they were flying over, and about the confusing plane controls, and he couldn't help but smile at Alfred's joyful enthusiasm as he answered. All anxiety was forgotten. Arthur was just sitting here with Alfred, a thousand miles in the sky, and it was as magical and strange as every other moment they had shared together; as all the beautiful madness these three years had brought.

"It's amazing you can remember it all," said Arthur when Alfred finished explaining the difference in turning speed between the Aeronca Chief and the Mustang.

"Nah, Arthur, it ain't that hard. I could teach you to do it easy, I reckon, what with how smart you are and all."

Arthur scoffed doubtfully. "You flatter me. Up here, you're the smart one, Alfred."

Alfred attempted a nonchalant shrug, but his expression was proudly delighted. He looked out again at the vast blue sky and the endless country below. "Let's take her higher. You trust me now, right?"

Of course Arthur trusted the blasted Yank. He always had; he always would. And that's why he was doing this. Why he was sitting in this winged metal box a thousand miles in the sky; why he was here in this strange, wild country a million miles from home. Because it made Alfred's face light up, made him laugh with joy. Because this was what Alfred loved, and who he was, and this was what had brought him to London and into Arthur's life almost five years earlier. Because it was still, and always would be, magic.

"Always, Alfred."

Alfred flashed Arthur a tiny, sideways grin. "Enough to let me put her into a spin?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes warningly. "Maybe next time. For now…" Arthur pushed himself up in his seat, leant towards Alfred, and followed his gaze into the sky. "Take me through the clouds."

.

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[ashwritesandstuff]

Different Person

Request: No but they’re open :) 

Notes: Inspired by the quote, “Endlessly Troubled By The Minor Inconvenience of Loving You” which I just kinda found so pretty but I’m not sure who wrote it. This is kinda farfetched, just work with me ya feel...

Wordcount: 2561

The repetitive ticking of the clock was the only sound echoing throughout the lonely convenience store. Not even the usual humming of the A.C. was there to keep you company, as the first real winter day kept you from having to turn on the obnoxious fans that usually gave you a bad attitude and an even worse headache. You sighed, flipping open the book you had brought with you and wished for the tenth time that day that you hadn’t called your coworker to let them know there was no use they come considering the store hadn’t seen much company besides your shadow all day. It seems the cold weather wasn’t alone, bringing ice and snow with it as well and guaranteed an empty store. Frank might be ten years your senior, but he had good stories and even better company. Plus, now that you sat behind the register for the first time on your own, you weren’t so sure the baseball bat leaning against the stool you occupied would be much of a weapon in your hands. You’ve never been the one who’d had to deal with the money after all.

The store doubled as a gas station, one with only four pumps and had a mini area in the back that served fresh coffee and baked goods. Typically, you were usually back there, wiping up muffins and the occasional breakfast sandwich for the odd trucker with tired eyes that you couldn’t risk them leaving knowing they’d likely be on the road all day with the chips from the aisles next to you as their only food. Call it southern hospitality, call it basic humanity, you couldn’t let someone get back on the road knowing that they weren’t at their best.

So, when a tall man with tired eyes and shoulders that you could tell carried the world, your eyes stopped skimming the words on the pages of your worn-out book and instantly favored peeking over the top of the paperback as you observed the handsome stranger.

He walked with purpose as if nothing else mattered more than the package of Honeybuns in the third aisle. You absentmindedly flipped a page in your book as you continued to stare at the man and the way his stiff steps landed him in front of the sweets, the way he held himself as if he needed to fold into his own statute to not take up the space he deserved, the way his large hands seemed as if they were separate beings of their own intermingling among themselves. He was going to get arthritis in the future, you decided, as you watched him go through the motions of cracking his fingers.

The door opened once more, allowing the cold air in and causing you to shiver, as another man walked into the store accompanied by a woman. Suddenly,  your empty store didn’t seem so sad anymore and the tall man didn’t seem so sad either.

You knew it was fake though.

You saw the mask slip over his face and his body tense, even more, holding his breath in as if to be at ease would mean to be wrong. His eyes finally looked up from the ground to look at his friends, and though they tried their best to seem light, the gorgeous hazel color was agonizingly stormed with pain. You knew that, like the building you stood in, the minute the man was alone again he would transform and you would once again find something lonely and harshly silent.

“We have to wait for the engine to cool down a bit before I can put any antifreeze in it,” A deep voice called out interrupting you from your blatant staring, “That is…if they sell any for me to put in the car here.”

“The second aisle,” You answered, “Right next to the Hot Cheetos.”

At the sound of your voice, all three bodies spun in your direction – guns were drawn.

Fucking Texas.

“There’s literally only thirteen dollars in here, but you can take the antifreeze.” You quickly yelped, jerking your hands up so they could see even more clearly that you weren’t a threat. Your fast movements caused the baseball bat that leaned against your stool to fall and roll out from behind the front counter.

“I uh, have a baseball game after this?” You managed out, biting your lip and praying your attackers had some sort of thief intuition to show them how little damage you actually could do. Or that they at least had some humor, just because they were robbing you at gunpoint didn’t mean you couldn’t laugh about it together did it?

The bat continued to roll on the uneven floor, stopping only as it hit the shoe of the dark-haired girl in front of you. The tension increased, you gulped and suddenly their weapons lowered and put away as fast as they had been drawn.

“Oh my god, we are so sorry.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“You were so quiet when we came in, we hadn’t noticed you at all. You caught us off guard.”

You slowly put your trembling hands back down.

“I uh, hope your game goes well.”

And with that, it felt like a weapon was trained on you all over again. While the other man and the dark-haired girl were quick to apologize and seemed to struggle to pull something out of their pockets, hopefully not another firearm, the tall man from before bent down to retrieve the baseball bat and set it on the counter. And while his words were joking, the tone of his voice soft, the way your body reacted to him had nothing funny about it. Goosebumps appeared, and you could feel yourself more at loss of what to say as he made eye contact with you than before, when three guns were aimed in your direction.

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” His now empty hands reached into his pocket and produced a badge that he pushed in your direction, “I’m with the FBI, our car began to overheat and we pulled in to give it some time to cool off.”

Tearing your eyes away from Spencer, you looked the identification over quickly before looking up and seeing two other identical badges being held up by his companions. Satisfied finally that those thirteen dollars plus antifreeze wouldn’t be coming out of your paycheck, you let yourself collapse back on to your stool as your wobbly legs gave out. You weren’t quite sure if that was a side effect of the past five minutes or a side effect of Dr. Spence Reid.

“I couldn’t see you over the register, I thought the owner was in the back.,” Spencer continued before looking at the others behind him.

“Honestly, I’ve had to piss for the last two hours and I think it’s throwing me off my game. I didn’t notice you behind that big ole counter sweetheart.” The man grinned at you, “I’m Agent Derek and I hope this doesn’t get me banned from your restroom.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer stiffen slightly as you blushed at the agent’s charm before reaching down grabbing the restroom key from behind the counter and throwing it over to him, “Here ya go sugar, next time though and you’re using a bucket.”

Derek chuckled before heading down the only hallway in the store that led to the clearly marked restrooms.

“I’m Agent Emily Prentiss, I’d like to apologize once more for our actions. We’ve been on the road all day, I guess we were on high alert.” The brunette grimaced and looked at you with sincere regret. You could tell this incident was definitely not a common occurrence, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to make sure these agents didn’t leave your store in the same shape they came in.

“No harm no foul” You shrugged it off and gave her a smile, “It’s Texas, after all, I’m used to the guns blazing”

Still stiff, you know saw Spencer catch his breath as you turned your smile towards him. You tried to tell the thumping in your chest that it wasn’t your crooked grin or chapped lips that caused that reaction from him, but it didn’t seem to stop the racing of your heart. His sad hazel eyes seemed to gleam slightly and you felt your body shiver at the delusion that you put that there. You knew Agent Prentiss was observing your interaction with precision she lacked earlier but you couldn’t seem to stop looking at the man in front of you. His hair earlier had seemed lackluster, and though it still seemed dull, you could tell know how deliciously messy it must lay when it’s full of life. It seemed as though that sentiment rang true for all of him though, from afar and even now up close, you could tell he was a shell of a great man. A great man that you could see in the small gleam in his eyes and the slight twitch of the corner of his lips.

It was the flushing of the embarrassingly loud toilet that finally tore you from your equally embarrassing gawking.

“Would you guys like coffee?” You managed to muster out, as you suddenly found your tattered book on the counter incredibly interesting.

“Is that a copy of Alice In Wonderland?”

“Yes please!”

You blinked at the two agents that spoke overlapping each other, before realizing that Spencer’s question had been asked in a voice so low Agent Prentiss hadn’t heard it. You bit your lip slightly and slid the book over to Spencer, smiling as your fingers made contact with his and grinning even wider as you noticed how nice a simple brush had felt.

“Coming right up.” You whispered, looking at Spencer once more, and moving away from the counter. On shaky legs, you walked your way to the back and gestured for your newfound company to follow you.

Soon, all three of them were complimenting not only your coffee brewing skills but also the muffins and egg sandwiches you had produced after learning that they’d be continuing on the road for quite some time once their car was patched up. And while all three of them sipped on their drinks and ate their food as you began to tidy up, Spencer was the only one flipping through a book at warped speed.

“How’d you manage to bring a book but not your phone kid?” Agent Morgan teased as Spencer closed the cover after only minutes of reading.

“Actually, it’s not his.” Agent Prentiss smiled, cocking her head slightly towards you as she looked at Agent Morgan in a way you’re sure only they could understand.

Ignoring the two agents, Spencer walked over to you, hands nervously twisting around the book in his clutches.

“You’ll get arthritis.” You said jokingly, trying your best to calm your breathing and trying even harder when that didn’t work.

“Alice was my favorite book as a child,” Spencer said, setting the book down next to him, “Thank you for letting me read it again.”

“You looked like you needed an escape. Maybe some cake to make you big and realize how small problems can be sometimes.” You said, your mind flashing back to his sad stance and the way he seemed to crumble into himself.

Spencer kept his eyes trained on the floor and behind him, you could see both Agent Morgan and Prentiss slipping back to the front of the store and out the door.

“Sometimes, I feel as though I’m a victim of my own emotions.” You began as soon as you were once again alone, “As if feeling as intensely as I do does nothing but burn my match out.”

Spencer looked up, locking eyes with you and unknowingly urging you on, “Whatever weighs you down, whatever shackles you carry, don’t let it drown you. I can tell you’re crumbling, please don’t crumble apart.”

As the last words left your lips the air felt heavy and though you weren’t regretting anything of what you said, maybe you should’ve waited until you’d known each other longer than an hour. A part of you though, knew that what you said was something he needed to here now.

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Spencer looked around, as if making sure nobody else was in the room. He seemed to make eye contact with one of the agents outside and before you knew it, his gaze was back on you.

Suddenly, looking at Spencer, you could’ve sworn it was like looking at the moon after staring at the sun all day. Like you could finally rest from an intensity that beating down on you and now, as a reward you got to look at the moon and the other galaxies and universes you hoped brought you two closer together than your unfortunate one here has. And at that moment, you knew you’d forever be endlessly inconvenienced now by the pull you have towards Dr. Spencer Reid.

Without warning, Spencer picked up your book once more in one hand and with the other, managed to slide his wallet out of his pocket. You watched intently as he bookmarked a page with dollar bills before handing it to you as if it were precious cargo.

You didn’t break eye contact when you reached for your book, but your body lets out an involuntary gasp when one of Spencer’s hands grasped yours before you could pull away. He hesitated for a moment, before letting go and shoving his hand back into the pocket his wallet was in and producing something else. Still wonderstruck from his touch, you shivered feeling his fingers intertwine with yours as he shoved something small into your hands. You clutched the object tightly, refusing to tear your eyes off Spence simply to see whatever he gave you.

And maybe it was the intensity of your stare, the fact that you looked at him in a way that conveyed how much you wanted a beginning, middle and end with him or maybe it was the coffee he drank earlier but Spencer Reid reached out once more for a final touch.

“Thank you,” He whispered, brushing against your hands once more, “For reminding me that sometimes the potion makes you smaller and your problems bigger”

Then, as if with the same difficulty it took to let him, Spencer Reid turned around and walked out the doors that only moments ago led him to you. Headlights blinded you as you saw the car turn on after they all gathered into the car, a bottle of antifreeze left in the parking lot as they drove off.

Opening the book, you realized that’s what the money was for, the antifreeze. Still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that Spencer bookmarked that specific page for a reason and flipped to the page.

“’It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then.’”

Setting the book down, you unclenched your hands from the small vial you had gripped on to for dear life, reading the label with a heavy heart.

Dilaudid.

[dipulb3]

2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 Heritage Edition first drive: Slick nod to the past

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2020-ford-mustang-shelby-gt350-heritage-edition-first-drive-slick-nod-to-the-past/

2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 Heritage Edition first drive: Slick nod to the past

Limited-edition styling packages are a common practice among automakers. Most involve a special paint or color combination along with minor interior alterations. But some carry a bit more meaning, drawing inspiration from a model’s storied past without overshadowing what makes the current car so special. That’s the 2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 Heritage Edition in a nutshell.

With the Heritage Edition Package, customers can get a Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 or GT350R coated in an exclusive Wimbledon White paint with Guardsman Blue side and over-the-top racing stripes. The livery harks back to Carroll Shelby’s 1965 GT350 fastback that was victorious in its race debut with driver Ken Miles behind the wheel. Is that a cool thing to base a limited edition on? Absolutely. Does the color combo happen to look wicked to boot? Oh yeah.

2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 Heritage Edition: Steeped in history

See all photos

Outside of the paint and stripes, the Heritage Edition changes are minor. The front and rear outside GT350 badges are finished in Guardsman Blue, as well as the special dash badge inside. Those opting for the Heritage Edition Package on the GT350R get completely black seats instead of the standard ones with red bolsters.

So, why the special edition? Well, sorry to say, GT350 production is coming to an end. Ford confirmed in a statement, “With the 760-horsepower Shelby GT500 now in full stride, we will finish production of Shelby GT350 and GT350R this fall as planned. This makes the way for new additions to excite our passionate Mustang fans for the 2021 model year — including the limited-edition Mach 1.” Pour one out.

One last Voodoo dance

Knowing that the GT350 isn’t long for the world makes driving the Heritage Edition bittersweet. The 5.2-liter, naturally aspirated, flat-plane-crank V8 is brilliant. Known internally at Ford as the Voodoo, it spits out 526 horsepower and 429 pound-feet of torque for strong, linear power delivery all the way up to the 8,250-rpm redline. Throw in the glorious, roaring soundtrack under wide-open throttle, and it’ll surely make any driver’s heartbeat quicken.

Ford’s 5.2-liter Voodoo V8 is a real sweetheart.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Connected to the 350’s engine is a Tremec six-speed manual transmission offering precise action and a nicely weighted, easy-to-work clutch. Combine that with the engine’s rapid throttle response and well-spaced pedals for heel-and-toe shifting, and it’s super easy to drop a gear or two before turns. The only drivetrain element I’d change is installing a shifter with slightly shorter throws.

Tackling my go-to stretches of twisty roads in the Heritage Edition is an absolute riot. With some heat in the staggered, 19-inch Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires, the 3,800-pound coupe does everything you ask of it. Track mode firms up the dampers and steering, turn-in is immediate with great weight and high levels of feedback, and body motions are nicely controlled with huge amounts of grip. If you feel like making the rear end dance in a controlled manner, it’s easily done with a liberal dab of throttle. The six-piston front and four-piston rear Brembo clampers effortlessly slow matters down, providing the confidence to go deeper into braking zones if you wish.

The highlight of the GT350 remains its raw but approachable performance personality. It’s forgiving to drive right up to the limit with a usable amount of power and a good ol’ manual gearbox. In many ways it’s a throwback sports car, free of new performance technologies in the best ways.

The interior is standard Mustang stuff, with Ford’s Sync 3 infotainment tech onboard.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Daily tolerance

Just because there’s so much to like about this Shelby Mustang’s old-school makeup, however, doesn’t mean there aren’t some modern elements. Case in point: the adaptive dampers, adjustable steering and active exhaust. Engaging the Normal drive mode softens bump stiffness, lightens steering and yields a quieter exhaust note for more comfortable, lower-key motoring. This doesn’t mean impacts from bigger bumps are erased, but they’re smoothed out enough for a very tolerable ride around town.

The middle ground between Normal and Track drive modes is Sport, which is ideal for more enthusiastic daily driving while possessing enough damping properties to keep things from being jarring. Yes, it makes the Shelby marginally firmer, but completely livable with more cornering composure and a bit heftier steering.

The GT350 isn’t the perfect daily driver, though. Remember those aggressive 295/35R19 front and 305/35R19 rear tires that are oh-so-good for handling? They are prone to tramlining on rutted roadways, making it hard to track straight. But the biggest strike against this Shelby is its less-than-stellar fuel economy, with EPA estimates of 14 miles per gallon in the city and 21 mpg highway. Those numbers are low enough to cause the coupe to get hit with a $1,300 gas-guzzler tax. Then again, if you’re really worried about fuel efficiency, a Shelby probably isn’t for you.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

The highlight of the GT350 remains its raw but approachable performance personality.

Inside, the Heritage Edition is a typical Mustang. The door panels have suede inserts, and the standard Recaro front race seats are supremely comfy and supportive. Outside of that, the back seat is still tight and best used for small children, the build quality is good but not great, and there’s serviceable cargo-carrying ability in the trunk, with 13.5 cubic feet of space.

On the tech front, the GT350 uses Ford’s tried-and-true Sync 3 interface, housed on an 8-inch touchscreen. A nine-speaker audio system, satellite radio, Wi-Fi hotspot and both Apple CarPlay and Android Auto come standard. Navigation with real-time traffic and a new 12-speaker B&O sound setup are optional. For safety, a rear-view camera is standard, while available features are limited to blind-spot monitoring and rear cross-traffic alert.

We’ll really miss this one when it’s gone.

Jon Wong/Roadshow

Hard to say goodbye

The 2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 and GT350R are on sale in dealers now with a base price of $61,635 and $74,630, respectively. Both figures include $1,195 for destination and a $1,300 gas guzzler tax. The Heritage Edition Package tacks on an additional $1,965 to the bottom line of each.

I’d definitely put a check mark next to the Heritage Edition Package option on my GT350 build sheet, which says something, because I’m usually not one to get sucked into the limited-edition brouhaha. But the fact that it’s an awesome-looking package steeped in history on the best driver’s Mustang ever built has me sold. For anyone contemplating a Shelby GT350, you’re officially on the clock. The end is near, but this is nevertheless a lovely sendoff.

[delos-mio]

FHS - Part 1 - A Frank Castle Mini Series

A/N: Yooo what up! This is part 1 of a miniseries about the sweetest murderer around. A HUGE thank you to @deerprongs​ for sending me the inspiration- I hope I can do you proud.

In all your life, you never thought you’d step foot in New York City again. When you left after high school, you said goodbye with the intention of starting new in college somewhere far, far away. And for a while, it worked- you got a degree and got a pretty good job. Everything was going well until life happens, the way that it does, and when family falls ill, you run back as quickly as you can. Now, you were finishing loading boxes into your studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. Rent sure didn’t get you as much here as it did in Minneapolis, considering you were paying $500 more a month for 2 less bedrooms. You sighed as you sat down on top of the last box, wiping a bit of sweat from your brow.

It felt like you hadn’t stopped going all day. Your stomach began to growl, desperately trying to get you to slow down and satiate it. Message received, you decided to quick explore your new neighborhood for food options. It was a lot later than you realized when you stepped out on the sidewalk and glanced at your phone. That was one perk of moving back to the city- food was always available to you. You set off heading west, keeping your eyes peeled for anything open late and offering something more than a chopped cheese. The autumn air bit at your nose as you pulled your hoodie closer to your body, trying to fight off the cold.

Just as you had rounded the corner, head down to face the oncoming wind, a hand reached out and pulled you by the arm into the alley.

“Give me your fucking money!” A tall but scrawny man with wild eyes switched open a knife off to his side. Judgement aside, he looked like every drug fiend you had seen before.

“I-I don’t have anyth—“ you stammered, tears forming almost instantly.

“Fuck you! Don’t lie to me! I said, give. Me. Your. Money!” he yelled, raising the knife to the side of your face. You were crying openly at this point, body trembling as he continued to close the distance between the two of you.

“Ok! Ok!” You reached in the pocket of your sweatshirt and shakily offered up your ID and debit card. “This, this is all I have…”

Just as he began to open his mouth and speak again, a large shadow appeared behind him. Immediately, your mind went to worst-case-scenario: another attacker. This little prick had a friend! You closed your eyes tightly, wishing this would just end so you could run back to your apartment, lock the doors, and look for flights out of this goddamn city.

“I’d let her go if I were you.” It was the shadow. His voice was low and gravely; it sounded like a crackling fire on a summer night. Your attacker spun around, now pointing his knife in the direction of the voice.

“What the fuck did you say to me?!” he fumed, trying to locate the source of his interruption. Finally, a man stepped out of the shadow- tall and broad with close cropped dark hair. His face was harsh, but handsome. It was clear to you he’d seen a scrap or two in his life, but most likely won every time. His hand flew out and grabbed the fiend by his throat, his fingers digging into his dirty flesh.

“Oh shit, it’s you!” he managed to choke out, his hands wildly clawing at the arm outstretched in front of him.

“Don’t make me go repeating myself,” your savior warned, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening. You wiped at the tears under your eyes, quickly drying your face as you watched with wide eyes the man before you. “Now you go tell any of your other little friends that if I see you within 20 blocks of here, I’ll fucking gut you.” He gave him one more harsh squeeze and threw him to the ground. The smaller man quickly scrambled to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction, his footing not coming fast enough as he tripped over and over as he tried to escape.

“You ok?” he asked, slowly approaching you, his expression softer than it was just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m—“ your voice broke as a new wave of tears hit you. “I’m sorry. Th-thank you,” you stammered, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. When you finally looked back at him, there was a small smirk on his face. “What? What’s funny? I’m totally failing to see the humor in this.”

“It feels like you’re trying to be tough for me,” he smiled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his plain, black long-sleeve tee stretching across his muscles. You laughed a little, realizing that’s exactly what you were trying to do.

“Don’t want you to think I’m weak, I guess,” you finally smiled. “Can I get you a coffee or something?” you asked, shoving your hands in your pockets. Something about him seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. His face you found to be implicitly trust worthy.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Because you just saved my ass and it’s the least I can do,” you said, shrugging. “Please?” you continued to plead.

“Follow me.” He gestured with his head back out to the street and you happily followed him.

The two of you walked quietly for two blocks, only the sound of cars passing by and the pounding of feet on cement filling the silence. You noticed he’d glance at you from the corner of his eye every so often, making sure you were keeping up, you assumed. Before long, he stopped in front of a 24 hour diner. He held the door open for you to walk through and nodded at the older woman working behind the counter.

“Howya doin Frank?” she chirped in a thick Jersey accent, her smile wide as she looked at the two of you.

“Just great, Sal,” he replied as he motioned you to take a seat in a booth against the front window. You slid across the obnoxious red vinyl seat and settled into your spot. Frank sat across from you just as the waitress came over, a pot of coffee and two mugs in hand.

“Now I know Frank here just wants it black, but can I get any cream or sugar for you, sweetheart?” Sal asked.

“Just cream, thank you,” you replied. She poured each of your mugs full and left a small dish of cream with you. You sat and looked at his face for a moment as he looked out the window, watching the few people walking down the street. It was going to drive you insane if you couldn’t figure why he looked so familiar. As your spoon clanged against the sides of the ceramic mug, it hit you like a ton of bricks, a wide smile jumping to your lips. “Castle.”

His head snapped to look at you, his eyes wide and brow set in a hard line. “What was that?”

“Castle. You’re Frank Castle!” you grinned, slamming your palms excitedly on the table. He still looked confused as he studied your expression. It occurred to you that he still hadn’t made the connection you had only just made yourself. “Flushing High School. We had Trig and US Government together,” you helped.

His expression softened for the second time tonight, a genuine smile painting his face. “Of course. Y/N. Don’t know how I could have taken me this long to put it together.” He took another drink of his coffee. “I didn’t know you were living in Hell’s Kitchen these days.”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t until about twelve hours ago,” you replied. “I moved to Minneapolis after we graduated and lived there for the last thirteen years.”

“So why come back?” he asked, leaning back into the bench.

“My mom. She’s dying.”

“That’s a blunt way to put it.”

“What’s the point in sugar coating the inevitable? Doesn’t do anyone any good not to face reality,” you shrugged, taking another sip. “So here I am, back in New York. Living in a matchbox of an apartment for way too much goddamn money.”

“Some things never change,” he chuckled.

“Some things, yes. But you did. You look different, Frank. What did you do after school?” you asked, leaning forward on the palm of your hand.

“Joined the Marines, did a few tours. Came home, started doing some…” he considered his words for a moment, “freelance work.”

“Well, thank you for your service,” you smiled, raising your mug to him. Frank shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And continued service, I guess. Still out here saving people,” you added, vaguely gesturing to yourself.

“I’m no hero,” he said. Frank spent the next couple hours listening to you talk about living in the Midwest, occasionally interjecting with his own stories. You smile when he spoke and you found it very easy to talk to him. While you watched him, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to those afternoons crammed into a stuffy classroom at Flushing High School. The two of you didn’t run in the same circles, but you remembered thinking he was smart. You also remembered thinking he was cute, but didn’t see a way you could get close to him, so you just admired in silence from a few rows back. He was still cute, though cute was maybe not the right word any more. Frank was handsome- chiseled and defined in every sense.

“Can I ask you something without you thinking I’m a total weirdo?” you asked before running your fingers through your hair.

“You can ask, but I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep,” he joked. You huffed and rolled your eyes, taking a moment to compose your question.

“Do you think…do you think you could stay at my place tonight? I just don’t really want to go back to an empty apartment after tonight. You can say no, I totally get if you don’t—“

“Yeah, I can do that,” he replied simply, cutting you off. You blushed and gave him a smile, grateful he understood your hesitation to be alone and his willingness to placate you. The waitress came around again and you paid her for the bottomless coffee before setting off again into the night.

The walk back to your building felt a lot shorter, most likely because you were walking with someone who actually knew the area. Frank followed behind you as you made your way up to the fourth floor, each step creaking unnecessarily loud. You inserted your key and turned your head back to him.

“Sorry in advance. It’s a fucking mess right now,” you apologized before pushing the heavy door open. Nearly every inch of floor was taken up by a drab, brown box. It was embarrassing to you, but you had to remind yourself that no one expected you to have all your shit together half a day after moving in. You watched as Frank walked around the small space, taking in some of the labels on the boxes and surveying the studio.

“Not a bad place for this neighborhood,” he remarked, turning his attention back to you.

“Thanks. It’s all I could afford at this point, but I think it’ll be ok.” You walked over to your bed and crawled in, drawing the covers under your chin. Frank looked around for the couch and started walking over, kicking his boots off before setting off for the living room area. “What are you doing?”

“Thought we were going to sleep.”

“We are, but where are you going?” you asked, brow furrowing.

“I assumed you wanted your space, so I was gonna post up on the couch,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to impose on you.”

“I…I’d feel better if you stayed with me,” you said. He looked at you for a moment, carefully considering whether to refuse and be a gentleman, allowing him to protect you from afar, or if he should just do what you ask. In the end, you won out as he stalked over to the side of the bed, peeling off his shirt before climbing in. It took everything in your power not to let out the small gasp on your lips when you looked at his bare torso. Besides being taught and impossibly touchable, it was riddled with scars and bruises that never quite went away. He’d mentioned being in the military, but surely this couldn’t all be from combat. You faced him for a moment as he first laid down, his gaze strong on your face. “Thank you, Frank, for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said with the smallest smile. You gave him one last smile before rolling over, finding comfort in the weight of Frank lying next to you.

[motherofthebrideeveningdresses7]

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