#they probably dump blood on him too in the middle of shooting

[shushmal]

I couldn’t SEE ballet Steve before, but now I DO. I see the vision.

[warlocksoup]

SLEAZE ✶⋆.˚ MIYA OSAMU

CHAPTER TWO: streetlight

SOUNDTRACK: nurture by youbet

tw: implied ed/mention of skipping meals/mention of treatment

sleaze playlist

20 Child Actors You Completely Forgot About

She’s number thirteen.

“What the fuck?’ she mumbles under her breath, hanging upside down off her couch, blood rushing to her head and phone held an inch from her face. She scrolls down.

You’ve probably forgotten about the adorable little girl that stole our hearts on screen as Kimura Momo in the long-running drama series, ‘Family Sized.’ After her abrupt departure from the show seventeen years ago, she has not been offered any other roles and has made no notable public appearances, leaving many people to wonder what happened to the child star. No one does seem to know what she's up to these days, however, she is active on Instagram! Look how much little Momo has grown!

There’s a photo of her that seemed fine when she had willingly posted it to her one-hundred-something followers, but now that it’s blasted on some listicle, it is entirely too flawed to be in the public eye. Her with a comically large orange in her hand, comparing it to the size of her head, smiling with her teeth.

How fucking stupid.

Her mother texted her the link with the commentary: “See! People are thinking about you!” As if this is some sort of good thing.

All she wants is for people to stop thinking of her. Entirely. She seethes as she repeats this to herself, angrily copying the link to send to Kenma, fingers slightly trembling.

She closes out the article and opens Instagram, poised and determined to deactivate her account and erase any trace of her on the Internet that’s still left. This is what she’s doing instead of eating breakfast; she was in the middle of making it when her mother sent her the link. And now, her meal sits half-cooked on the counter.

She couldn’t possibly eat it now, she rationalizes. Her stomach is too unsettled, and her skin is crawling. She’s too far passed that point.

Her Instagram account is gone when Kenma’s name pops up across her screen. She answers on the first ring. “Can you believe this shit?” is how she greets him.  

In the background, she can hear the sounds of artificial battle from his computer. “Do you want me to get it deleted?” he asks. “If nothing else I’m sure I can at least get you removed from the list.”

She shoots upright at once, and the blood rushes out from her head. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, all I have to do is send one vaguely threatening email signed Kozume Kenma, CEO. Shitty little sites like that are terrified of legal action,” he tells her, and her phone buzzes against her ear as she speaks. “I’ll literally send it right now if you want me to.”

“Will you please?” she says into the receiver. “It really pissed me the fuck off, and it like, threw off my whole day and now my mom keeps fucking texting me about it, because she wants me to read that stupid script her producer friend gave her and she thinks this is some kind of cosmic sign.”

Kenma sighs on the other side of the phone. “Can you just tell your mom to fuck off? If you don’t wanna do it, then let me.”

“No,” she enunciates harshly. “Stop asking.”

“Fine,” Kenma relents. “I sent the email. Should be taken down by the end of the day.”

“Thank you, I love you,” she says, tone still slightly chastising.

“Whatever.”

Once she hangs up, she pockets her phone, and moves to dump what remains of her breakfast in the trash. Her therapist can scold her for it later. She can’t help that it’s soiled now.

✶⋆.˚

She flops onto the edge of the curb, wrapped up tightly in her fur jacket, lit cigarette in hand, and pouts. It doesn’t really take much to throw her. One article that vaguely implies that she’s done nothing with her life, and her entire day is coated in this heavy, itchy coating of discontentment and anger.

Nothing’s felt right all day.

It’s dark, late now. A chilled wind blows, and she wraps the faux fur around her tighter. It’s this old thing she got at a vintage store. She got it for a discounted price, because they couldn’t get the smell of cigarette smoke out of it. Which doesn’t bother her, because that’s how it would’ve ended up smelling anyways. She doesn’t know if it’s actually faux minx, but it makes her feel less guilty to pretend.

It almost feels like an heirloom. There’s this fantasy she’s concocted that it actually used to belong the grandmother she’s never met, and it got lost in her belongings when she died, before it eventually found its way to the curated vintaged shop where it was fished out of a hidden rack in the back of the store.

Her and the jacket, meant to be.

She takes a drag of her cigarette. Those are the kinds of fate-defined, fantastical stories you have to make up when all you’ve got to show for your family is an over-zealous stage mom and whatever PA was in charge of you on set.

“Hey.”

Her head snaps up. Across the road, sitting on the curb underneath a streetlight, is Miya, elbows resting on his knees and leaned up against the lamppost. She smiles. “Hey,” she calls back to him.

She thinks she can see him smile back at her. She can’t tell; he’s just far enough that she can’t make out the details of his face. “You know, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“You weren’t at lunch today,” she says. He wasn’t, and it was the first thing she noticed. She almost left when she realized it, but decided against it, solely due to how odd it would’ve looked to his staff. “It kinda sucked without you.”

Miya ducks his head, and chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to meet with the guy I buy my salmon from. Been kind of chaotic at work lately.”

She shrugs. “Maybe you should work less. That’s working out well for me.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “And, anyways, I would’ve preferred keeping you company, if that makes you feel any better.”

The wind makes her shake, slightly, but mostly, she can just feel this vibration that runs through her. She puts her cigarette out on the curb beside her. A shiver goes down her spine. “Yeah, it does make me feel better. Thanks, I needed that today.”

The street’s completely empty, and she wonders briefly what would happen if she crossed it. Miya kicks his legs out in front of him. “Rough day?”

She thinks that maybe she’s being dramatic, that maybe she shouldn’t be so effected by an ad-ridden paragraph and a photo pull from her social media on a clickbait site, but she is. And it really, really bothers her. “I hit my peak when I was five. Every day’s a rough day.”

“Could be worse,” Miya tells her. “Could be one of those actors that’s always going online, begging for a reboot. Or reprising your old role for phone commercials.”

She snorts. He’s got her there.

“And I doubt you’ve hit your peak,” he continues on. “You’re what, like twenty-two?”

“I’m twenty-five, you flatterer.”

“See, at twenty-five, you’ve still go your whole life ahead of you,” he continues on. “You’ll hit your peak at least a couple more times. So there’s plenty to look forward to.”

Her heart thumps oddly in her chest. “What’s your name?”

“Osamu,” he responds. “Miya Osamu.”

“I like you, Osamu,” she says, and tries to see if there’s any change in his expression. Maybe his eyes go a bit wide. “I like talking to you.”

His hands are tucked away in the pocket of his sweatshirt. She wonders if he’s knotting them together under there. “Yeah. Yeah, I like talking to you, too.”

She stands, brushing off the back of her jeans. Osamu mimics her across the street, rushing to her feet the second she does. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope, ” she says, ready to make her graceful exit back inside her apartment.

“Wait,” Osamu calls after her, and she stops. “If you like talking to me so much, maybe we could talk over dinner sometime? Maybe dinner somewhere I don’t sell food. Or I could make dinner, too. I could do that.”

He’s not as smooth as he was in her fantasies. But the way he sort of stumbles is cute, endearing. And she should say yes, because it’s all she’s been daydreaming about since the second she saw him, taking her order and pretending not to recognize her.

But she’s not sure. The day still feels strange on her skin, and, despite the way her heart skips, she’s not sure if she’s ready for anything to become real.

Osamu looks at her with wide, expectant eyes. “I dunno,” she says. “Ask me again later. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

taglist: @kameyyy @wyrcan @angee444 @lale-txt @akaashislovee @localgaytrainwreck @whorefornoodles @baylz @asrichin @miiyas @ferntv @atzixo @kr1nqu @spicana @weezerbby @chaosakademia @theepitomeofswag @qardasngan @tinnierat @gigiiiiislife @acowboykisser @wordsofelie @asnjinj @miakxn @svquru @arirants111 @nekomasmngr @iluv-ace @therealmsbahng @videlll @yessimo @socoolsocoolsocool @bertqut1 @rosellerinfrost @fishrene @recordsndreams

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[l4verq]

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

-

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

-

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

[jimlingss]

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck. 

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes. 

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest. 

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars. 

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!” 

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken. 

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt. 

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain. 

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!” 

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes. 

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features. 

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!” 

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast. 

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time. 

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long. 

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get. 

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power. 

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe. 

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him! 

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

[thatslikely]

Detention - D.M.

Detention- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (gryffindor)

Warnings: none!  just more fluff <3

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: A fun Draco fic with an enemies to lovers type of situation!  I’m really happy with how this one turned out and I hope you guys enjoy it too!  I’m definitely going to make a Seeker part 2 so don’t worry, but I also have a George Weasley x Reader idea in the works too!  Please feel free to send me your feedback (and you can always send me an ask or message for the taglist).

Just a Reminder: Y/N is Your Name 

----

“Detention!  For both of you!” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang loudly through her office.  The countless living paintings that speckled the candle-lit stone walls shook at her declaration.  

She disappointedly looked at you before marking your name on a piece of parchment that lay on the desk in front of her.  You felt guilty that you had forced your favorite professor (and the head of your house) to give you a detention.  Especially detention in the Forbidden Forest with none other than Draco Malfoy. 

You couldn’t even bear to look at the pouting Slytherin’s face beside you.  It was his fault that you now had to spend your Saturday night roaming through the eerie trees of the Dark forest.  If he hadn’t snatched your Charms essay mid-sentence then maybe you wouldn’t have shot a hex in his direction!  Fortunately for him, however, your clever hex missed the mischievous Malfoy by a single blonde hair, and now poor Neville’s shoes are glued to the worn hardwood floors of the library.    

Your forest escort arrived promptly.  You were thankful Filch was busy with other duties, so one of your Gryffindor prefects was chosen instead.  McGonagall sent your prefect a nod and as he signaled for the two of you to follow him, you finally made eye contact with Malfoy, shooting him a murderous glare.  He quickly responded with a scowl before walking out the door and into the familiar hall towards the forest.  

After several minutes of awkward silence, the three of you finally reached the inviting entrance of Hagrid’s hut.  The warm glow emitting through the windows of the stone shack contrasted greatly against the clear, pitch-black sky.   

Judging by the disgusted expression on Malfoy’s face, it was clear that he wasn’t fond of the half-giant or his home.  Maybe Hagrid would be a little sympathetic for your cause, and you could get away early.  

After a few moments, Hagrid emerged from his hut, a homemade wooden crossbow strung across his chest and a woven basket in hand.  Fang sat lazily at his side, drool dripping from his snout.  The groundskeeper tiredly said, “Tonight, you two’ll be searchin’ in the forest for some knotgrass.  Once this basket ‘ere is full, yer free to go.” 

Draco begrudgingly took the woven basket from Hagrid’s large hands with an eye roll.  Shortly after a bit more detailed instructions from Hagrid, you and the blonde reluctantly embarked towards the winding dirt path leading into the woods.  The only thing illuminating your late-night journey was the pearly full moon overhead and the small beams of light emitting from the ends of your wands.

You two walked through the spooky trees in silence, annoyed looks plastered on your faces.  Once the both of you had been walking around with the irritatingly empty basket for a while, you finally asked with a grimace, “Do you even know what knotgrass looks like?”  

“Of course, I know what knotgrass looks like.  Do you take me for an idiot?  Do I even have to remind you that I’m top of the class for Potions?” he spat, defensive and rude.  

“How is your expansive Potions knowledge going to help us here in the middle of the Forbidden Forest?  It’s your fault I’m even here in the first place!” 

“My fault?  Says the girl who nearly killed me after I so much as glanced at your pitiful Charms essay!  You’re a bloody psycho!”  His over-exaggerated recounting of what happened in the library would surely be a hit with his Slytherin worshippers, but not with you.   

Instead of disputing his accusations, you tore the straw basket from his ring-adorned hands, hissing, “Fine.  If I’m so insane, just leave me alone and let me collect it myself!”  You turned the opposite direction, speeding up your pace, leaving Malfoy alone in the dark. 

Draco stood, mouth agape, for a moment before quickly dashing up behind you, grabbing hold of your wrist.  “Where do you think you’re going.  I’m not gonna die in this stupid forest because of you!  Give me that basket.”  

He spun you around to face him, his grip on your wrist as tight as ever.  His hand was cold and strong; the silver snake rings that wrapped around his fingers dug into your skin.  You looked up into his captivating silver eyes, and for the first time, you didn’t see pure malice.  The starlight made his eyes shine nicely, which you hated to admit.

Your gazes were interlocked for a few electric seconds, which felt like hours, before Draco raised his eyebrows in shock, realizing how close his face had gotten to yours.  In one swift motion, he freed your arm from his grasp, and the basket was now in his control.  He awkwardly turned away from you, simultaneously wiping his palm up and down his black robe.  You caught a quick glance of his face, which was a pronounced shade of pink, visible even in the dim moonlight. 

You noticed your breaths became heavier, and your cheeks were scorching hot.  What just happened? you thought, why did that feel so… strange?  Nothing should’ve felt different.  It was just another irritating interaction with your Slytherin enemy.  He’s just the same old spoiled brat.  

You tried to get the intrusive thoughts of your strange interaction with Draco out of your head by focusing on finding the elusive plant.  You weren’t too sure what it was supposed to look like, so after minutes of searching, you were left with a fistful of mismatched stems and leaves.  

Once you couldn’t hold any more of the mismatched plants you had collected, you silently stepped behind the bent over Draco, reaching down to dump the stems in the basket which he firmly grasped at his side.

Draco, who was lost in thought, didn’t realize you were right behind him until a loud twig cracked right under your shoe as you were mere inches from the back of his head and the basket.  

Frightened by the sudden noise, he hastily turned around with his hawthorn wand ready.  Only, instead of being face to face with a rabid werewolf, his elbow was met harshly with your nose. You immediately recoiled from the Slytherin with a roaring yelp.  You instinctively reached for your nose, where blood was slowly dripping out and onto the ground. Great.  

While you were tilting your head back to alleviate the blood flow, Draco stared at you dumbfounded.  The situation at hand eventually sunk in, and he ran to your side, his hand on your shoulder, concernedly.  After you groaned in annoyance for a few seconds he asked, “Are you okay?”

You cocked an eyebrow, taken aback by his oddly sympathetic question.  He quickly realized the tone of what he said, withdrawing his hand from your shoulder.  With a significantly icier tone, he said, “You should’ve been more careful, Y/N.”  

You embarrassedly turned away from Draco, ready to wipe off your blood-coated hands on your robe when you felt a timid tap on your shoulder.  Draco stretched his arm to you, a white silk handkerchief with the initials D. L. M. embroidered in emerald green between his fingers.  He kept his head turned sharply away from you, his nose in a scrunch. 

You eyed his handsome punchable face suspiciously before you slowly accepted the handkerchief.  Before you put it to your nose, you bluntly stated, “I’ll get blood on it, you know.”

“I’m not stupid, I know that.  I gave you my cheap one, so keep it.  Don’t want your filthy germs anyway.”  

“You’re lucky I haven’t hexed your brains out yet,” you said with a sly smile.   

He mimed himself looking mockingly scared at your comment, but a satisfactory smile soon crept onto his face at the sight of your nose softly pressed into the ivory silk.  He was probably just glad to not hear you complain anymore.

----

The basket was nearly full of what you hoped were knotgrass stems, though it seemed your “expert Potions student” also couldn’t pinpoint the plants.  Both of you had also grown very tired, out for what was probably hours.  At long last, Draco plucked one final handful of leaves, making the basket full enough to your standards.  You and Draco simultaneously let out a sigh of relief, finally being done with this grueling punishment.  

Normally, post-detention, you would attempt to send Draco some of the Weasley twin’s dangerous concoctions for extra revenge, but he was being abnormally kind to you tonight, in his own Malfoy way.  Plus, this night had taken a huge toll on you both; you don’t even know if you had the energy to still be mad at him.

The two of you slowly trudged back to Hagrid’s, a joyful feeling in your chest since this strange night was finally over.  As you continued down the dimly-lit path, the platinum blonde who was previously at your side was nowhere to be seen.  You assumed he had snuck up ahead, ready to jump out at you from behind one of the towering black trees.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d try to scare the hell out of you, to say the least. 

You kept following the path, your eyes darting around at every noise.  You were on high alert for your Slytherin rival, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of scaring you.  The further down you went without seeing Draco though, the more nervous you got.  Not just for the possibility of him scaring you, but for his safety.  You’d heard so many horror stories about the Forbidden Forest you could probably write a book.  

Finally, you mustered the courage to call for Draco.  You repeatedly yelled “Draco!”, slightly louder every time you didn’t receive a response.  Now you were really worried.  He was your sworn enemy, sure, but you didn’t want him dead in the forest.

After more minutes of shouting and worrying, you heard some rustling around you.  “Draco?  Try and scare me!  Don’t think I won’t hesita-”

You were quickly cut off by the noise you dreaded the most: the piercing howl of a werewolf.  You, and seemingly the whole forest, froze within an instant.  You rapidly placed your hand over your mouth, hoping that even your breaths couldn’t be heard.   

Your thoughts immediately went to Draco, alone in the forest, with a werewolf on the prowl.  While you should have been much more worried about yourself in such a vulnerable position, the blonde Slytherin couldn’t seem to leave your brain.  

Your head was so clouded with Draco that you didn’t pay attention to the sound of claw-steps growing closer to you by the second.  By the time you realized that you should shoot some crimson sparks up for help, a loud and intimidating growl emitted from the shrubbery right in front of you.

Without hesitation, you bolted away from the bushes as fast as your feet would take you.  You couldn’t get far though, as the silver, moonlight-drenched werewolf stood ahead of you once again, this time on full display.

Its sharp, horrendous fangs resembled the pointed stalactites of underground caves; its violent yellow eyes were a match for Hufflepuff robes, though Hufflepuffs were probably slightly less vicious.  

The werewolf stared at you, almost mockingly.  The snarl of its mouth could almost be described as a smirk, similar to the one which your blonde detention-mate often wore.  Your final thoughts before death at the hands of a werewolf would be, of all things, Draco. 

The werewolf reared its arm back, ready to claw you to death, and a single tear ran down your face.  It was too late to run, too late to hide, too late to do anything but die.  

Draco Malfoy, however, had other plans.  He bolted between you and the werewolf, rapidly pointing his wand out at the beast.  He yelled “Stupify!” at the top of his lungs, his voice hoarse and his lungs out of breath.  

You were too shocked by Draco’s sudden reappearance and act of heroism to notice the protective and caring grasp Draco had around your hand.  His touch felt different than when he held your wrist, his hand was now warm and soft.  

Your eyes were blurry with tears, and coupled with the dark night sky, you could barely see.  The only thing guiding you was Draco’s hand, pulling you towards the outskirts of the forest.  

You were too scared to look back in search of the werewolf, but Draco didn’t express worry that it would come back.  Instead, he pulled you closer to him, your head leaning on his chest.  His chest rose and fell quickly, his heartbeat rapid and quick.

After what felt like hours upon hours of running in the pitch black towards nothing, you and the not-so-bad blonde were back safely in front of Hagrid’s hut.  The tears in your eyes had finally dried, though you definitely weren’t looking your best.  

Under the light from Hagrid’s windows, Draco could see your matted hair, smudged mascara, and a bit of dried blood under your nose.  He could have easily made a snide comment at your expense, but instead, he reached to your face, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of your eyes.  

You looked up from your feet at the handsome blonde in front of you.  He held a guilty smile on his face, but he seemed to be okay.  You’d been so terrified these past few hours that all you could think to do was practically jump onto Draco, giving him a tight hug.

At first, he didn’t know what to do when you latched your arms around his chest in a tight hug.  The last hug he ever got from someone was his first day of Hogwarts, at Platform 9 ¾.  His mother tightly embraced him before sending him off to proudly strut onto the train.  

His body apparently missed the feeling more than it let on, for butterflies exploded in his whole body the moment your soft skin wrapped around him tightly.  He could faintly smell your shampoo as he hesitantly latched onto you.

The feeling of his arms around you was like nothing you’ve experienced before.  Sure, you’d hugged people in the past, but this felt different.  You felt your heartbeat quicken, and your whole body felt warmer.  You felt secure and comfortable.

Little did the two of you know, Hagrid stood in the doorway of his humble abode, a knowing smile painted on his lips.  He let out a small “ahem” before the hug was broken.  You and Draco swiveled to face the half-giant, who reached out his arm expectantly.  

Only then did Draco realize that he left the basket behind after the werewolf encounter, and a look of shock and embarrassment coated his face.  

“I must’ve left it back in the forest.  I’ll come back tomorrow night to regather the knotgrass. Just  let Draco off the hook, please?” Your face had a pleading expression, a slightly pained look in your eyes.  

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Y/N.  I know all ‘bout yer werewolf encounter, I’m ser Snape can live without a bit of knotgrass fer a few more days.”  Hagrid warmly smiled at you.

The castle felt miles away from the outskirts of the forest.  Draco was back to being his usual cold self, facing away from you as you both trudged to the school.

Eventually, you finally stood at the large wooden doors of the main entrance to Hogwarts.  Within moments, you would be back within its comforting walls, which would surely soothe the new pounding sensation in your head.  

You reached for the large, rusted metal doorknobs, ready to be greeted with the castle’s uplifting energy, when Draco grabbed your free hand, pulling you away from the handle. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to be rude to the Slytherin, after all he did for you, so instead, you asked calmly, “What is it?”

The glow of torches which adorned Hogwarts’ stoney outer walls made Draco’s hair look magnificently golden, contrasting the way the pale moonlight made his locks seem almost silver.  His silver eyes stared into yours, and for a moment you swear you saw his gaze flicker to your lips.  

Your face heated up at the sight of his charming gaze and smile.  You hadn’t even noticed how close his face was to yours until you felt the heat radiating from his pale cheeks.  He quickly closed the minuscule gap between the two of you by passionately connecting your lips. 

The electricity in the air was hard to ignore.  The late hours of the night just added to the rush of feelings you got when your and Draco’s lips touched.  You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer; one of his warm hands cupped your cheek and the other sat around your waist.  

After several moments of slow and loving kissing, your lips disconnected.  Your lips missed the feeling of his’, but you were still satisfied.  Draco pulled the large wooden door open, stepping inside with you, your fingers intertwined.  

“I might just have to steal another one of your pathetic essays soon,” Draco said, a genuine look of love in his eyes accompanied by his signature smirk.

“You’re such a git, Malfoy.  Though, I wouldn’t mind spending some more time with you, as long as there’s no werewolves involved, okay?”  

And with that, you pulled him closer for another quick, affectionate kiss before giddily walking up to the Gryffindor common room.

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!(demigod)Hyunjin

request: Hey :) I just really want to read something about Hyunjin if that's fine with you. I'm kind of a sucker for this whole enemies to lovers thing too lol but it would also be super cool if it could be something with fantasy. I don't really know 😅 I think if you're going to write it it would be good anyway. genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (kind of, i feel like it wasnt that extreme but more of a dislike-to-lovers lol), demigod!au (fluff, slight angst? its rly not much, a lot of confusion on reader’s part) pairing/s: Hyunjin / Reader (fem) (ft some skz, nct and got7 members!) word count: 18k+ tw: mentions of blood and (sword)fighting a/n: thank you to anon for being so patient again...its really taken me really long to think of something for this haha i kind of wanted to tap on Hyunjin’s like personality a little more for this like the side of him that’s very like in tune with his emotions or whatnot but idk if i emphasised that a lot but thats just a fun fact lol anyway there was a whole lot of thought exposition in this but this was very much a mix of information based off my existing knowledge of greek gods and the percy jackson series but i hope i explained it clearly enough so even if you’re not familiar with it you won’t be too confused while reading! 

You wondered if you should’ve been scared when you’d awoken to the sound of your friend Jeongin waltzing into your cabin, the echo of ‘​love is a many splendored thing​’ coming from his lips as he meandered his way around the much more intimidating daughters of ​Ares​ in your room.

“Didn’t know they still allowed you in here,” you huffed, rolling your eyes but not without the small smile playing at your lips as you rolled over, sighing into your pillow and making space for Jeongin to flop belly-down onto your bed.

Ignoring your comment (not without sticking his tongue out at you for good measure), Jeongin’s smile had only grown as he supported his head with his hands.

You huffed, bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes, not being able to find it in you to be annoyed that he’d interrupted your sleep, “are you just gonna smile at me or are you gonna ​actually​ tell me what happened?”

Jeongin wrinkled his nose slightly, “guess,” he whispered.

“You...” you frowned, rolling over onto your back, hugging your pillow closer to your head, your eyebrows knitting into a thoughtful frown, “finished your painting?”

Shaking his head, Jeongin hummed, “​better​.”

“Better?” you echoed, “did you get elected for something... or something?” you yawned, trying your luck at this point, having close to no idea what he was so smiley about.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, though his grin remained, a small giggle leaving him, “give up?”

You nodded, “yeah, give up.”

“​Someone​’​s​ back in the ​Poseidon​ cabin for the summer.”

You figured you might as well milk it while you could, pretending to not know who Jeongin was referring to as you pouted, “Who? Chan?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, ​again​, “don’t play dumb, you know who i’m talking about.”

You sighed, stretching your arms out above your head, dumping your act of ignorance (acting was never your strong suit anyway), “and what do you expect me to do about that?”

“​You​ don’t have to do anything, technically,” Jeongin shrugged, “he’ll probably approach you first.”

You made a face, not liking Jeongin’s implication at all.

Jaehyun​ was just a friend you’d made from a few years before. Sure, he was friendly, and Jeongin did always point out the fact that he’d always somehow end up in the same area as the both of you, but you never read into it, having never felt anything romantic towards him at all in your time knowing him. After all, even if you wanted to, the last you heard (if the Aphrodite sisters were to be trusted for gossip) was that he had a girlfriend back home.

“Not funny, Jeongin.”

Jeongin scoffed, “who said I was trying to be funny?” he tried, failing to hold his expression of feigned offence as a bout of giggles escaped him, “okay, fine, maybe I was, but still, you have to admit that you know it’s gonna happen at one point.”

“What’s gonna happen?” you said with a scoff, sitting up in your bed as you let out another yawn.

Jeongin narrowed his eyes at you, “you know what i’m talking about,” he shrugged, making you groan. Trust him to be ​specific.​

Getting out of bed, you brought a hand up to rub your shoulder, rolling your shoulders back with a wince, “I didn’t think he was gonna come back, honestly.”

Jeongin shook his head insistently, “think about it, if he already graduated... he’s probably only back because...” Jeongin gestured towards you, his eyes wide and full of implication.

“Shut up, Jeongin,” you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you in spite of the part of you that was very much averse to his implication.

“Anyway, what are your plans later?” you asked him, eager to divert his attention elsewhere, earning a long hum from him.

You turned to see him fiddling with the corner of your bed sheet, frowning at the faint sound of rock music he could hear coming from the other rooms.

“Haven’t decided,” he sighed deeply, “might go back and finish up my painting... you?” You’d walked around your bed, “probably go and train or something,” you shrugged.

Jeongin made it a point to yawn loudly, “shouldn’t have expected anything else. Why don’t you join me one of these days after the game’s over?”

“Yeah, of course I will, I just wanna get... used to it before the game. It’s been ​ages​ since I touched my sword,” you made to pick up your things to freshen up, Jeongin deciding that would be his cue to leave, bidding you goodbye (but not without a smothering hug).

Don’t get you wrong, you were ​thankful​ for Jeongin. A son of Hebe, he’d been at the camp longer than you had, and he’d taken the liberty of befriending you after a particularly amusing run-in during a game the previous summer where you’d accidentally torn a hole in his pants with your sword at a pretty unfavourable area.

Not to mention how the boy was one of the few that dared to tread within ​Ares​ grounds. Being the son of the goddess of​ youth,​ you should’ve figured it was natural for him to be so personable to others (not to mention the fascinating way he looked so ​youthful​), but you were thankful for it nonetheless. Not many people considered it a ​want​ to look past the barbed wire and screaming red motifs that seemed to surround the children of the god of ​war.​

Though a part of you wished you could’ve joined Jeongin for a peaceful morning doing art while overlooking the lake, you were a little glad you didn’t, because as you sparred, you remembered just what felt so freeing about being in the field, a sense of anticipation building within you as you thought about the first capture-the-flag game of the summer coming up in a few days.

“Did you hear?” Yuta, another son of Ares, had asked you while the both of you practiced your archery.

You sighed, rolling your neck back before narrowing your eyes at the target again, “hear what?”

“Wait, look, look there, the new ​Aphrodite​ kid. Heard he was claimed a few days ago,” Yuta nodding his head towards the direction of the mess hall, and you spotted a small group of boys and girls making their way towards the mess hall.

It wasn’t hard to tell they were Aphrodite’s children, from the way they dressed so elegantly, to the way they carried themselves, as if nothing in the world could shake them or put a single hair out of place.

Something about the effortless nature of it all seemed so ​unreal​ to you, especially since you were stood there with your flyaway hair sticking out no matter how much you tried to keep it in place.

“Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, something about him was always more... ​mesmerising​,” Yuta continued, with yourself busy observing the group of them.

“That one? Wasn’t he already here for a while already?” you gestured to one of them who was walking in the middle, rolling the sleeves of their shirt to their elbows with a sheer grace you couldn’t understand, his hair slightly longer than you’d remembered seeing it the previous summer.

Hyunjin was his name, if you remembered what Jeongin said correctly. Who were you kidding, ​of course you remembered​.

The daughters of Ares in your bunk talked about him all the time, even if they didn’t show it. Almost every day you’d hear new things about him, as if it was your daily dose of the ​news​. Something about him being a dancer, or something about a song he was listening to, even what movie he watched recently, none of which you bothered to actually commit to memory like they did.

Widely admired,​ was the term to describe it. You guessed you could understand why, his looks were pleasing to the eye, but there wasn’t much else you could draw from his personality, so you figured that was it for you. After seeing his sisters, and how... ​lovely​ they could be at times, you didn’t think there was much else to figure out.

“No, ​idiot,​ the other one walking at the front, he’s basically ​glowing​,” Yuta clicked his tongue in annoyance, and your eyes had landed on the boy, shorter and definitely younger than Hyunjin, but no less beautiful. Looking even closer, you realised he ​was​ glowing, unmistakably a very Aphrodite​ way of claiming him as her son.

You frowned, turning back to Yuta, “that’s a lot prettier than how Ares claimed us, isn’t it?” you laughed, “why are you so interested anyway? It’s not the first time you’re seeing someone get claimed,” you dismissed him, drawing another arrow and firing it at the target, a small smile of satisfaction on your face when it hit the center.

Yuta shrugged, his hand coming up to flick his hair away from his eyes, “dunno, just thought it was cool. Since that means he’ll be on our side for the games too,” he explained, clearly having abandoned his archery practice with the way he’d let his bow hang loose next to his side, swinging it as he stood next to you with a hand on his hip.

“I don’t have very high hopes for that,” you murmured, shooting another arrow at the target, Yuta letting out an impressed low whistle at the thud, “they don’t strike me as the... fighting type.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, “are you done soon? I’m hungry,” he frowned, “and by the way, I'd be careful what I say about Aphrodite’s kids.”

You flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sceptical about his insistence, “what are they gonna do, smolder​ me to death?”

Yuta rolled his eyes, a scoff leaving him, “well they probably ​could.​ Look, if anything, I'm more afraid of their powers than ​Poseidon’s​ kids.”

You couldn’t help yourself from the face you made at the mention of the water-wielding demigods, earning a small grunt of amusement from Yuta, only then realising what he could’ve gotten from your expression.

About to interject, Yuta had continued, “I’m guessing you heard Jaehyun’s back?”

You sighed deeply, recalling your conversation with Jeongin that morning, nodding as you made your way back to the Ares cabins with Yuta strolling calmly next to you. Keeping your footsteps brisk, you dumped your armour onto the floor next to your bunk while Yuta did so with his as well, meeting him back at the door and leaving the cabin just as quickly as you came, still having not found an answer to Yuta’s question.

Though as you were busy forming a response to him, you felt yourself getting annoyed, or heavily​ annoyed for that matter, turning to Yuta with a scowl.

“Stop doing that,” you scolded him, making him raise his hands in a shrug, feigning nonchalance.

“What? You didn’t answer my question,” he defended, making you narrow your eyes at him, relieved when the feelings of anger and annoyance had diffused out of you within a matter of seconds.

“Thank you,” you sighed.

If you had to choose, that was one of your least favourite amongst Ares’ ​gifts.​ Sure, being skilled at fighting and the strength you had was a pro, of course. But being able to manipulate someone’s feelings of rage and fear was ​not​ something you found very necessary.

Unless you were Yuta, of course, and used it for the sake of getting someone’s attention.

“Why does everyone keep telling me about Jaehyun?” you blurted eventually, making Yuta shoot you a pointed look.

“He’s a ​legend,​ it’s basically our ​duty​ to talk about him,” Yuta snickered, grabbing your hand to pull you towards the mess hall as if deciding that your speed wasn’t fast enough for him.

“What’s so exciting about him?” you scoffed, letting Yuta lead you to a table where you saw your friends already seated, not missing the way Yuta had shoved you aside with his hip in his attempt to be seated closer to Ten, one of the sons of Aphrodite.

Seeming to have forgotten about Jaehyun, Yuta had focused on his conversation with Ten, leaving you to eat in peace.

“Hey, just came from practice?” you heard Seungmin ask you, taking a seat facing you while you tried to ignore the way Hyunjin had taken a seat next to Ten at the same time, his proximity making it harder for you ​not​ to look at him.

Turning to the said son of Athena, you nodded (albeit distractedly), earning a soft smile from him, “same here. Are you excited?”

Assuming he was referring to the games, you offered him a small shrug, “I guess, kind of curious to see how the new Ares kids handle it,” you tried your best to remain nonchalant even though you could hear Yuta asking the newer Aphrodite kid what he liked about being one of Aphrodite’s sons.

Seungmin nodded thoughtfully, “yeah, I saw some of them just now at the arena, but I doubt you’d have to worry, you could take half the Hermes kids on your own,” Seungmin laughed, making you wave him off.

Seungmin had seemed to find Ten and Yuta’s discussion interesting as well, turning his head to listen in as you brought your cup to your lips, frowning as you tried to pick up on what they were talking about.

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your gaze flicker between Ten and Hyunjin, hearing Ten cut in and explain something about acting cute and effortlessly getting people to do what you want them to do, all while you saw Hyunjin turning to ask one of Apollo’s daughters next to him if she had a tissue, the girl seeming almost ​compelled​ as she stood up and made her way to the far end of the table to grab a small packet of tissues for Hyunjin.

You had to refrain from scoffing, turning back to Ten with a sweet smile, your tone as lighthearted as it could be, “guess people just do things for you if you’re ​pretty,​ right?”

Ten seemed to have no qualms in agreeing with you, nodding at you with a smirk, “exactly.”

Hyunjin heard you of course, not knowing if that was a hint of spitefulness he detected in your tone, and you didn’t miss the way he’d looked up to meet your eyes, something about his gaze almost making it hard for you to look away, but you did. Scanning your attire, Hyunjin couldn’t help the small huff that left his lips.

Daughter of Ares​, he should’ve figured ​abrasive​ words would’ve come with the package.

Deciding to dismiss it, Hyunjin turned back to Chan who was seated in front of him, rejoining whatever conversation they were having about swimming in the lake with ease. He would just forget about it, it wasn’t like picking a fight with the ​war​ god’s child was part of his agenda for the day.

Well, of course, that was until the time came to play capture-the-flag and Hyunjin found himself so ​unfortunately​ partnered with you to guard the flag. ​He should’ve just stayed with his sisters to cheer on the players.

You didn’t try to hide the fact that you were displeased, shooting a wide-eyed look at your Head Counselor Jaebum, who had simply dismissed you with a wave when you’d pulled him aside with a very annoyed glare on your face.

“Why can’t I guard with Yuta? I thought Aphrodite wasn’t playing,” you murmured harshly, fixing your armour roughly as you gripped the handle of your sword tightly, your heart sinking when you saw the way Jaebum had simply smiled, reaching his hand out to shove your helmet onto your head, flicking the red hairs that stuck out from the top with a laugh.

“There’s no time for you to complain, trust me, Hyunjin’s good,” he dismissed your hesitance, waving you off as he began to head elsewhere with the rest, “you’d better guard it properly,” he warned before leaving with the rest, the clinking of their shields against their armour growing softer the further they went.

Grabbing the flag from the floor with a huff, you’d started heading towards the lake, shoving the flag harshly through the pebbles to secure it in the ground, a small huff of annoyance leaving you as you squinted up at the sky, the summer heat annoying you even more.

Not being able to find it in you to relax, especially with the knowledge that Hyunjin was here, you paced around the flag, your hand placed protectively above your scabbard, the other hand on your hip as you eyed your surroundings.

Hyunjin on the other hand, seemed unaffected, and you heard the rustling of the pebbles as he sat down, his sword next to him and his hands behind him supporting his weight. To anyone else, he would’ve looked completely at ease, his head lifted to face the sky, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth. 

Though his ease didn’t last for long, the constant crunching of the pebbles and the annoyed scoffs that left your lips every now and then drawing his attention back to you.

Hyunjin never really liked ​Ares​, he momentarily wondered if you were similar in the aspects he disliked as well, since the behaviour you were displaying right now was very...​not​ typical of an Ares.

“Are all Ares demigods as high-strung as you?” Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, “your pacing’s gonna give us away.”

Your head whipped around quickly, scoffing at him, “yeah, well, excuse me for feeling responsible for the flag,” you huffed.

Hyunjin didn’t understand why you took the games so seriously, (frankly you didn’t either), but you both figured it was the streak of Ares in you that made you feel competitive, but nonetheless, Hyunjin wasn’t amused.

“It’s not just ​your responsibility, you know. Jaebum literally asked me to guard it with you.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh, your words coming out in choppy bursts as if there were a million other things in your head that were fighting to be said, “yeah, well, I guess you could say that’s why i’m even more on edge.”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at you, wanting you to look in his direction but you didn’t seem to be giving him the time of day, your eyes still searching the woods in front of you for any sign of someone else.

“Look,” Hyunjin felt himself growing annoyed, “I don’t know what you have against me but now’s not exactly the time to be angry at ​me​.”

You hadn’t realised, but your agitated state had been unconsciously manipulating Hyunjin’s feelings, making him more annoyed the more he saw you pace.

“Jaebum’s being stupid. He shouldn’t have put you here with me,” you sighed, more to yourself than to Hyunjin.

“You don’t trust me,” Hyunjin murmured, his tone giving away his surprise (or lack thereof), already moving to stand up, dusting the dirt off of his pants as he kept his gaze fixed on you.

You turned to face him, unaffected by his presence unlike the other day, now, Hyunjin noticed your gaze was much firmer.

“Yes, I don’t,” you told him, “forgive me for saying this but, you and your siblings don't necessarily have a very good track record when it comes to combat.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, “​yeah, well,​ ” he mimicked your tone from before, “​brute force​ isn’t the only way you can win, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering for a moment what exactly were the gifts that aphrodite had bestowed on her children to warrant such confidence from Hyunjin. You figured he was just trying to divert your attention from the fact that they really weren’t one to fight.

“So, i’m right? You don’t fight?”

You wouldn’t usually have been so... ​annoying,​ maybe it was your annoyance at Jaebum making itself known to Hyunjin, and in turn making Hyunjin annoyed at you as well.

Hyunjin took a small step closer to you, holding himself at arms length as he got a good look at your eyes.

Pretty, you thought, but probably not what you should’ve been focusing on at the moment.

And you really shouldn’t have, because you surely hadn’t expected Hyunjin to pull his sword from where it was on the ground abruptly, pointing it right at your throat, the slightest of smiles on his face, almost as if he was curious to see if you’d really lived up to what people said about you.

“I don’t know who you heard that from,” Hyunjin had an amused smirk on his face, something about him wanting to prove himself to you for some reason. The idea of protecting the flag already pushed to the ​far back​ of his mind.

You glanced down at the blade before you, pulling it ever so slowly out from its scabbard as you met his gaze again, something about it hardening when you could practically feel him challenging you.

There wasn’t a single sound between the both of you other than the sound of the wind blowing the trees and the lake flowing beside you. Clenching your jaw, you’d brought your sword up to push him out of the way with a grunt, seeing him dodge deftly when you swung it at his arm.

As if you weren’t already angered enough, you were shocked at how well he had been going against you, not paying much attention to what you were doing at this point, casting mindless swings and driving your elbow down on his shoulder, a small grunt leaving Hyunjin.

Swinging his sword at your back, you’d caught it with your sword, pushing back against him with as much force as you could muster, your swords coming in between the both of you, stuck there with the sheer force you were both applying.

Hyunjin had to admit that you were definitely stronger than him, almost giving up but too stubborn to do so, his other hand coming up to grab at your forearm, pushing your sword out of the way before his hand with his sword came up towards you.

Grabbing his hand quick enough, you’d shoved him away from you, bending to avoid another swing before turning, roughly bringing your sword to swing at him, hitting his chest and causing him to stumble back slightly, though what surprised you was how determined he was.

Regaining his stance quickly, as you dropped your shield angrily, he’d swung his sword just as you did, your swords colliding loudly as he brought his other hand to your hand, ripping your sword from your hand quicker than you could process and tossing it aside, his own sword coming to your throat once again, his other grand gripping onto your free hand firmly.

With how focused you were on fighting each other, the both of you hadn’t even realised Jaebum’s presence there, the said head counselor quietly observing you as Hyunjin tried to use his ​charmspeak​ on you. Being one of the (very few) children of Aphrodite that had this ability, Jaebum couldn’t help but be curious as to how this would play out.

You contemplated trying to summon your sword back, but as you were about to, he’d spoken up, distracting you.

“Pick up the flag,” he told you, in what you assumed was the most ​enchanting​ tone you’d heard from him, moreso with the way he was looking at you.

Hyunjin’s face was mere inches away from you, gripping your wrist even despite the gash you’d made on his palm, too absorbed in his motive to pay any attention to the pain. Something about his gaze had unsettled you, the pleasant smell of his perfume almost seeming out of place with the strong demeanour he was showing you now, making you curious as to what else there was about him that you were getting wrong in your head.

And he waited, he waited for your eyes to glaze over and for you to obediently walk over to the flag and pick it up without a single bit of defiance like how everyone else did. ​Except you didn’t.

His request had caught you off guard, making you furrow your eyebrows as your lips parted in confusion, “why the hell would I do that?”

Shoving his hand holding his sword away from you, you huffed, turning to see Jaebum and a few of the newer Ares and Athena kids standing there in shock. Well, at least ​most​ of them were in shock, Jaebum’s expression was all-too-amused.

Hyunjin stood, dumbfounded at the fact that his power hadn’t worked on you, turning to face Jaebum with his lips in a pout as Jaebum cleared his throat.

Ignoring the annoyed furrow to your brow, Jaebum brought a hand up to rub his exposed arm over his tattoo, “we... won...” he stopped to let a small laugh escape him, “you guys can bring the flag back.”

You huffed, moving to pick up your sword, shoving it into your scabbard, still confused at the fact that Hyunjin had just asked you to pick up the flag for no reason after what he did.

Turning back to Hyunjin, you saw him about to open his mouth, wanting to ask if you were going to take the flag with how he gestured to it.

Shaking your head as you were already making your way back, you said, “take the stupid flag, I don’t want it.”

It was only when you were with the rest in the amphitheatre did you realise Hyunjin had made an impression on you in more ways than just through surprising you.

You were making your way through the crowd to find Jeongin when you’d spotted Jaehyun, his hair messy and slightly damp with perspiration, giving you a friendly smile as he lifted his glass to you.

You saw him making his way over to you, his armour long discarded as he stood in his long sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants, pushing his hair back only to make it even messier.

“Hey, it was a good game just now, where were you?” he asked. 

“Oh, I was just guarding the flag.”

Jaehyun nodded, a hum of understanding leaving him. Bringing his cup up to his lips, his gaze darted to your arm, his eyes widening as a sharp hiss left him, “hey, that’s a pretty bad cut, how’d you get that?”

You frowned, your eyebrows raising, a hum of confusion leaving you. Only realising when Jaehyun had reached a hand out to grasp your elbow gently, lifting your arm gently to draw your attention to the gash on your arm, the blood having gotten onto your shirt without you realising.

“Oh,” you hummed, shaking your head in dismissal at Jaehyun, “no it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt. I’ll just get Jeongin to help me patch it up later.”

Jaehyun’s forehead creased slightly as his eyebrows lifted, “really? I can help you with it now, if you want,” he offered, a soft smile on his face.

Turning to look over at where Jeongin and Yuta were seated at one of the steps of the ampitheatre, you tried not to let their knowing smiles fluster you, turning back to Jaehyun with a shake of the head.

“It’s fine, don’t wanna trouble you, but thanks for offering,” you assured him.

“What brings you back?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, seeing his smile widen, giving you a shrug.

“For fun, honestly. I’m on break at university anyway, so I figured I might as well.”

Your lips parted in realisation, nodding slowly, “your girlfriend didn’t mind you leaving?”

He shook his head, “yeah, she was going back home to visit her family anyway,” you nodded, sighing in relief with the knowledge that he still had a girlfriend so whatever Jeongin said was baseless.

Jaehyun glanced behind you, spotting Yuta and Jeongin sitting at the steps, pressing his lips together so his dimples showed, “shouldn’t keep you any longer, your friends are waiting. See you later,” he had a hand gently on your shoulder, pulling it back to give you a small wave before you’d left to join Yuta and Jeongin at the steps.

“​Ouch,” Yuta hissed, eyeing your arm, “who did that?” he nodded his head towards your arm, drawing Jeongin’s attention to the wound.

You huffed, gesturing towards the group of Aphrodite’s children gathered closer to the fire, “Hyunjin,” you offered half-heartedly.

Jeongin’s eyes widened, “Hyunjin? But why? Wasn’t he on your side?”

Yuta’s attention was still searching the group of them, observing the way Hyunjin had a little bit of bandage peeking out from the arm of his sleeveless shirt, a small scratch on his cheek and his palm wrapped with a bandage as well.

“Are you sure it wasn’t someone trying to get the flag?” Jeongin prompted, as if trying to wrack his brain to recall anybody from his side to making it that far over to your side.

“No,” you shook your head, leaning back in your seat with a sigh as you brought your cup to your lips, “just him.”

“What? Why would he do that, though?” Jeongin hummed. You knew he was friends with Hyunjin, so his confusion was catching you even more off guard.

You shook your head, “I’d rather... not talk about it right now,” you sighed, “can you help me with this?” you turned to Jeongin, gesturing to your arm.

You missed the look Jeongin cast Hyunjin’s way, nodding at you as he stood up, probably going to get the first-aid box he kept in his cabin. Yuta cast a brief glance in your direction before letting out a snort.

“I can ​feel​ how annoyed you are,” Yuta drawled, jokingly, of course.

You drew your gaze away from Hyunjin, turning to look at Yuta, “I’m not ​annoyed,​ ” you murmured, “just... surprised.”

Yuta quirked an eyebrow at you, “pleasantly surprised?” You waved him off, “don’t get too carried away.”

Daring yourself to look back at Hyunjin, you’d surprised yourself when you noticed he was looking in your direction as well, drawing his gaze away with a certain calmness to his gesture that made you almost unable to look away. Something about it still felt so... ​unsettling​ to you.

From what you knew, Aphrodite was the goddess of love, of beauty, but what you saw from Hyunjin was a whole other side of that, beauty ​with​ a certain kind of strength you weren’t used to witnessing. An almost unassuming kind of strength, something about it only making you more curious about him. 

But after your interaction with him today, you weren’t so sure that you wanted to cause more problems for yourself. You figured if you just stayed out of his way, you would probably still be able to ensure yourself a peaceful summer. That was the ​plan​, at least.

===

What you didn’t realise was that camp half-blood was a ​lot​ smaller than you thought it was, especially with how often you were running into Hyunjin after that day.

You were on your way to The Forge, since you’d come up with a plan to forge a sword this week, feeling in need of something that suited your own tastes more. In other words, ​you were bored out of your mind.

However, on your way to the place, you’d bumped into Hyunjin as you were making your way past the mess hall, unconsciously frowning at the sight of him, making him scoff, walking beside you with that same air of elegance he always carried himself with (a contrary to you who was trying to walk faster than him in your own unspoken ​petty​ competition).

Hyunjin wasn’t sure why he was entertaining your competition, also trying to walk quicker than you, his hair bouncing lightly atop his head as he walked briskly, making you realise halfway how stupid the both of you probably looked, halting your footsteps halfway to turn to him with narrowed eyes.

“Stop,” you told him firmly, making his eyes widen, his hand raising to point a finger at himself. 

“​Me​?” Hyunjin scoffed, “you started it first.”

You opened your mouth to speak, closing it quickly, curious to why he was heading in the same direction as you, “stop following me.”

Though your question came out in a rather roundabout way, you figured that was the extent your pride allowed you to go to for now.

Hyunjin folded his arms, unsure why you were so proficient at bringing out the petty side of him, “​you​ stop following ​me,​ ” he shot back, his height making him look more intimidating despite his expression showing nothing but child-like stubbornness (similarly to yours).

“I’m not, I’m going to The Forge!”

“I’m going to the Stables!” He shot back at the same time as you, as if it were even a competition to answer first.

Hyunjin hummed,​ so you were going to The Forge.​ 

The information made Hyunjin curious as to what you were planning on making or fixing there, though he didn’t want to pursue it, still upset that the wound you inflicted on his hand made it hard for him to ride the pegasi.

Whereas you had to stop yourself from thinking about what an ​elegant​ thing riding ​pegasi​ would be, especially if it was Hyunjin doing it. 

Pushing the thought to the back of your head, you huffed, leaving him to continue on your way to the Forge, his footsteps behind you barely audible until you’d both parted ways.

And so it continued. You would alternate between joining Jeongin to do some painting or sculpting and working on your sword, yet somehow you would always manage to run into Hyunjin one way or another.

For a moment, you thought this was some sort of punishment from your father for calling him a whiny bitch​, warranting Hyunjin’s presence wherever you went.

It was either on your way to the Forge, or even when you would turn while painting to stare at the lake only to spot Hyunjin sitting at the corner of the area sculpting something with clay, it seemed as though wherever you went, misfortune in the form of a certain Aphrodite-born boy would follow.

What irked you the most wasn’t the way he would make even ​spilling paint ​look graceful, or the way his contagious laugh would echo loudly around the area, or how his silver ring would clink against the glass water jar distractingly to the beat of whatever song he was listening to as he worked. Instead, it was his ​response​ (or lack thereof) whenever you would meet eyes, how he didn’t have the same reaction everyone else did. How instead of looking away he would keep his gaze firm, yet ​gentle.​ How he didn’t seem... ​scared.​

Hyunjin knew this too, how everyone tended to stay away from Ares demigods in general due to their tendency to make people feel angry or upset and result in fights between campers, but Hyunjin was curious. ​He couldn’t help himself.​ He’d tried his powers on other Ares children before and they worked, so why were ​you​ the exception?

He was down at the Lake, his usual spot he would go to whenever he wanted to relax or clear his mind, since no one else really came here in the night, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of you, having been ​tormented ​by them for the whole day as he tried his ​charmspeak​ on different people just to make sure he wasn’t ​broken​ or anything.

Though it seemed even the lake was no exception to you, something in him feeling as though he wasn’t the only one there, and being proven right when he’d lifted his head from looking at his journal, turning to see you sitting not too far from where he was. Except this time you looked a little... ​different​.

Hyunjin wasn’t sure if it was the softness of the moonlight, but something about the way you looked now with your hands supporting your weight behind you as you looked at the water sloshing around in the lake, moving your foot right and left lazily with your hair flowing freely with the wind and a serene expression on your face. Something about it was very different from the picture of a daughter of Ares that he’d painted in his head. If he didn’t know who you were, he would never have guessed your father was the angry, aggressive, battle-driven god among the olympians, finding something about it awfully refreshing.

Hyunjin had averted his gaze quickly, his hand coming up to grasp at his neck, wincing at the pain from turning his head too quickly.

Drumming his fingers on his journal lightly, Hyunjin slid it into the pocket of his jacket, not knowing you’d already seen him when you came here. He’d contemplated on starting a conversation with you, wondering if it was worth the energy since it’d probably just end up in another petty fight between the both of you.

Deciding against it in the end, Hyunjin stood up with a small sigh, his hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair as he trudged through the sandy ground before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, walking past you when you’d spoken up.

“Didn’t they tell you?” you murmured, a slight teasing lilt to your tone, though it was sleepier than Hyunjin was used to hearing it.

Hyunjin turned his head to face you, his eyebrows raised in question, and a part of you just sighed at how unlucky you were that you had run into Hyunjin here too of all places.

“Tell me what?” he asked.

Hyunjin had a feeling you were about to crack a joke, with the way you tried (and failed) to contain your smile as you turned to look at him, a certain softness to your smile that came with sheer relaxation.

“You can see your reflection in the lake better in the daytime,” you grinned, making Hyunjin scoff, though he couldn’t help his amusement.

He shook his head at you, a forced laugh leaving him, “very funny, but i’m not ​Narcissus.​”

There was a small pause that fell between the both of you, your arms coming up over your head in a stretch, a small yawn leaving you. Hyunjin hadn’t left yet, making you wonder if it was because he was surprised to see you here.

“I didn’t follow you here,” you added, “if that’s what you’re wondering.” You know, ​just for good measure.

Trust you to be straightforward,​ he thought.

Hyunjin figured he’d might as well take the opportunity to tease you as well, hoping it would help him regain whatever upper hand he thought he had in the exchange.

“Yeah, ​sure,​” he drawled, turning and walking away before you could see his satisfied smile at your yelp of protest.

===

You were a little more excited than usual today, it’d been two weeks since you’d started forging your sword and today would be when you would be able to take it back and use it, the summer sun having started to set by the time you were done.

You were proud of it, frankly. It may have looked like any other sword, but the way it felt was different, it was less prone to wear during rough use as compared to your previous sword, the blade made to be sharper and sturdier. Not to mention how the handle was a perfect fit for your hand. Though you wished you’d had the power of conjuring up a weapon like some of the other children of Ares did, your powers were rather limited to just summoning your weapons and manipulating their material.

It was as if Ares knew you weren’t the ​most c​areful with your things.

You’d spotted one of the sons of Hermes, Minho, making their way into the armory as you were leaving, not bothering to greet him as you crossed paths. You knew who he was very well, and what a reputation he had for pranks in the camp, though you’d fortunately never been at the brunt of any.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were feeling just the slightest bit hesitant, at first, something almost prompting you to bring it back to the Cabin first before you went for dinner but eventually you figured it was fine. It was only for a short period of time anyway. You doubted people would want to steal swords in a place like ​this​.

Meeting your friends at the mess hall for dinner, Jeongin eyed you suspiciously when he’d caught you smiling at your soup for the fifth time that meal.

“Something good happen?” he asked, making you nod eagerly.

“Guess,” you told him, seeing his lower lip jut out in a thoughtful pout, his hand coming up to touch his chin before his eyes had widened, his smile growing.

“Jaehyun—”

“No,” you narrowed your eyes at him in warning, making him burst into giggles, his hand raising in surrender.

“Okay, fine, fine...” he hummed, “oh! You finished your sword?” he asked, earning a nod from you.

“Just finished it this afternoon, it’s in the workshop now but i’m gonna go get it later,” you told him, biting into your food with a satisfied sigh.

Jeongin made a sound of awe, his excitement written all over his features, “can I go with you? I wanna see it.”

You nodded, “yeah sure.”

“Is Yuta coming too?” he asked, earning a shake of the head from you.

“Nope,” you told him, “he’s going over to the Aphrodite cabin for some party,” a small giggle leaving you as you recalled how excited Yuta was to hang out with Ten.

“Aphrodite cabin, huh,” Jeongin snickered, making you nod knowingly.

“I know,” you sighed, bringing your cup to your lips to finish the rest of your drink.

Jeongin tossed his used tissue onto his now-empty tray, “well I’m ready to go, you?” he asked, glancing at you for confirmation.

Giving him a nod, you’d both cleared your trays and made your way out of the mess hall, though as you were on your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the stares you were getting from the other campers as you made your way past the cabins. You’d dismissed their stares quickly, thinking nothing of it until Jeongin had let out a small hum of discomfort.

“Is it just me, or...” he grimaced, clearing his throat, “are they staring?” he asked you, twisting his ring around his index finger.

You nodded, giving him a small shrug as you brushed your flyaway hairs away from your face, the wind blowing it haphazardly around.

“Thought so, but it’s alright, I mean. As far as I know we’re fine ‘cause ​Jaebum​ hasn’t summoned us anywhere yet,” you huffed, already nearing the workshop when you’d seen a small group of people gathered there, one being Minho, who was currently crouched over something you couldn’t quite see.

“What’s that?” Jeongin murmured, more to himself than anything.

You watched as Minho had slowly emerged from his crouching position, looking at you with pleading eyes and his hands waving in front of him almost as if in reassurance, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I can explain, I’m really sorry I don’t know what happened I was just doing my own thing and I didn’t know that I was actually—”

“What happened?” you cut him off, his rambling only making your anxiousness grow. Looking at him with confusion written all over your features, you hoped dearly that your suspicions would be proved wrong.

Jeongin watched with horror in his wide eyes as Minho had pulled out what looked like your (now cut up) sword.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked back at Minho You were sure your sword wasn’t as hard or brittle enough to have broken like this, you would’ve known, you’d consulted the many sons and daughters of ​Hephaestus​ that had come and gone from The Forge while you worked and researched on what would be best for your sword. You were sure ​they, t​he sons of a blacksmith of all people, extremely skilled at crafting, wouldn’t have allowed you to make a sword that could get damaged so easily.

“How... did this happen?” you asked him, oblivious to the way the people there were looking on curiously, eager to see if you would live up to the typical Ares tendencies and go into a fit of blind rage.

“I thought this was my sword and I was gonna melt it down to cut it but then I realised too late that it wasn’t mine,” he admitted, his tone sounding too remorseful for you to be more angry at him.

Now ​that,​ you could believe.

You looked back at the sword and back at him, not wanting to look at your sword any longer as you inhaled deeply, hearing someone murmur that you looked as though you could ​kill​ Minho.

Jeongin heard it too, ​felt i​t even, the sheer anticipation from the crowd that you would prove them right that the ​apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.​ They didn’t believe you were capable of controlling your temper, not when all your other siblings couldn’t. And you were glad you realised it, that if you acted on your anger right now, you wouldn’t be doing anything other than perpetuating their image of you as someone that so predictably ​craved war.​

A silence fell between you and Minho, aside from the hushed whispers and murmuring that could be heard from the other campers around you, feeling Jeongin’s hand touch your shoulder gently.

You shook your head, hoping you came across as more reassuring than wanting to kill Minho, a small murmur of an ‘okay’ leaving you before you’d turned away from him, leaving with Jeongin without another word.

Of course, your reaction came to the other campers as a shock, none of them having seen you display such an eerie calmness before. They were sure if the same thing had been done to Yuta, he wouldn’t have held back on showing just how upset he was, but you’d reacted in the least typically Ares way imaginable.

And Hyunjin thought so too.

He had been bored out of his mind waiting for the sons of ​Dionysus​ to show up with the drinks, sitting leisurely on the plush sofa in the big living room as he fiddled with his hair, glancing at the door every now and then as he pretended to be interested in whatever gossip his sisters were divulging amongst themselves.

“Did you hear?” one of them tapped on Hyunjin’s arm incessantly, making him turn to them with a bored expression, his fingers touching his ear absently as he prompted them to continue.

“Minho just had a run-in with Y/N,” she told him, her eyes beaming with excitement as though the information she shared was life-or-death, in a very ​entertainment channel​ kind of way.

Hyunjin frowned at the mention of your name, already trying to picture how that would’ve gone down, wondering if you’d pummeled Minho and had been the reason behind his absence at the party.

Well, that was until Minho had walked into the Aphrodite cabin looking absolutely unscathed, and Hyunjin decided that maybe he ​did​ want to know what happened.

“What happened?” he shifted in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant with his hand supporting the side of his head even despite his bubbling curiosity.

His sister had wasted no time in telling the story, “Minho broke Y/N’s sword because he thought it was his sword, and then when she was going to go get it he told her about it and she looked really angry​,” she told him, nodding gravely.

“You were there?” Hyunjin asked, his frown deepening, wondering for a moment what he was doing during that time.​ Probably lazing on his bed,​ he figured.

His sister’s mouth had shut quickly, her gaze darting to the ceiling, “well... no, I wasn’t, but that’s what I heard from Ten, who heard it from- okay, nevermind, the important part was that she looked angry, okay?”

Hyunjin knew about Minho’s... ​penchant​ for pranks, usually not bothering about them since they were pretty minor. But even ​he​ thought this went a little too far. ​You’d been working on that sword for what... a little more than two weeks?​ If Hyunjin were in your position, he was sure he would’ve been upset too.

“So... did she like... fight him or something?” he asked his sister, earning a shake of the head from her, which had only surprised him even more.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raised, “really,” he mustered distractedly, glancing over at Minho who had looked absolutely unaffected, laughing at something Ten had just said.

“She just... left?” Hyunjin asked for confirmation again, not being able to wrap his head around the unpredictability of your reaction. ​Nothing about you seemed predictable to him, so far.

Maybe your offhand comments, or your skill with weaponry, ​sure,​ that was predictable, but even from that day playing capture-the-flag, Hyunjin knew there was something in you that was very much ​Ares​, and very much ​not.​

He wouldn’t have expected such a reaction from someone as strong-willed as you, but then again, as he thought more about it on his way to where Minho was, he thought that maybe he should have expected it. There was something akin to a quiet strength about your reaction, to him.

“Oh, hey,” Minho greeted Hyunjin with a nod in the kitchen as he poured himself another drink, Hyunjin letting out a deep breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

“Why’d you do that to Y/N’s sword?” he’d asked abruptly, shocking himself with the imperative nature of his tone, and Minho didn’t mask his shock either, the boy looking at Hyunjin as if he’d grown another head.

“Look, I don’t usually give a shit about your pranks but... don’t you have to admit that was a little too much?” his tone had calmed down considerably, maintaining his calm exterior as he gave Minho a small shrug.

Minho let out a snort, nodding slowly, “dude... you know I didn’t ​actually​ destroy it, right?”

Hyunjin’s lips parted in surprise, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair again, the whole situation proving to be ​very​ unnecessary to him. It seemed, whenever it came to you Hyunjin always found himself feeling emotions he wasn’t used to feeling, things like defensiveness, annoyance, though nothing about it was unwelcome to him, strangely. That part, he had yet to figure out fully.

“Then why’d you do it?” Hyunjin wondered out loud.

Minho shrugged, “wanted to see if she was as temperamental as the rest of them. Think about it, she’s never really...​lost​ her temper like the rest of them.”

“Why do you care anyway?” Minho continued, “I didn’t recall anything about you two being friends,” Hyunjin was caught off guard by the implication.

Looking elsewhere, Hyunjin let out a small scoff, “I ​don’t,​ okay? I just... felt bad for her,” he tried to reason, “she worked hard on that sword.”

Shrugging, Hyunjin let out another huff of disbelief, removing his jacket with how stuffy it started to feel in the house.

“Whatever, why am I even explaining this to you,” he muttered, “where’d you put the actual sword?”

Minho eyed Hyunjin curiously, shaking his head with a small smile on his face as he gestured outside the house, “it’s still in the workshop.”

Sighing deeply, Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his own expense, giving Minho a firm pat on the shoulder before he left, his mind a swarm of reasons why he ​shouldn’t​ have been doing this, even stopping himself in front of The Forge to just be ​absolutely​ sure he was going to go out of his way to deliver a sword to someone he wasn’t on the best terms with.

But he did anyway, and that was what ended Hyunjin up holding your sword in its sheath and grimacing non-stop along with his annoyed mumbles on his very hesitant path towards the lake where he figured you would be.

Sure enough, Hyunjin had sighed in relief when he’d spotted you sitting at your usual spot, your knees propped up closer to your chest and your arms folded and resting upon them, your back facing him.

Shaking whatever hesitance there was left in him, Hyunjin cleared his throat, sighing when you hadn’t turned around.

You weren’t in the mood to have another bickering session with Hyunjin, as a matter of fact, already upset enough at the fact that you not only had to make another sword for yourself, but that the other campers probably just viewed you as some sort of ticking time bomb that they couldn’t wait to set off.

About to take another step towards you, you’d sighed, one of your hands going to pick at the hem of your pants, “shouldn’t you be busy shooting ​love arrows​ or something?” you huffed.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, freezing in place behind you, “how’d you know it was me?”

You shrugged, not wanting to admit that it was the same pleasant floral scent that brought back your memory of that day playing capture-the-flag that had let you know it was him, the scent being somehow unmistakably ​Hyunjin​ that your mind seemed to have automatically associated the two together.

“And again,” he huffed, “just because Aphrodite’s my mom doesn’t mean i’m ​cupid.​” 

You hummed patronisingly, “what do you want?”

Hyunjin sighed, making his way in front of you, holding your sword out in front of you, your eyes narrowing at him as you took the sword from him slowly.

“It’s yours,” he murmured, “it wasn’t actually destroyed.”

If Hyunjin had expected to receive an appreciative expression of thanks, maybe he should’ve gone to someone else. 

You stood up abruptly, a small gasp leaving you.

“Were ​you​ the one behind all of this?” your brows furrowed in annoyance, pointing your sword at him with its sheath still on, making Hyunjin step back slightly.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock, a scoff leaving him despite his hands finding their way beside his head in a gesture of surrender, “why are you getting mad at me? I didn’t do anything, I was just returning this to you,” he defended himself.

Maybe Hyunjin was just unlucky,​ he thought, if only you would have reacted this way to Minho instead of him.

“How do I know you weren’t the one that planned all of this?” you’d almost moved to jab your sword towards him, Hyunjin having anticipated your move and grabbed your sword by it’s sheath, his other hand coming to your wrist and pushing it away from him, ripping the sword from your grip and holding it over his head.

“Excuse you, I left a party just to go and get this hunk of metal and return it to you,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “and ​this​ is how you thank me?”

You frowned, confusion prominent in your features as you dropped your hands to your sides limply, “why would ​you​ do that?”

Frankly not knowing the reason either, Hyunjin opened and closed his mouth as he fumbled for an answer, tilting his chin up in defiance when he scoffed eventually.

“Fine, if you don’t want this I can just go throw it in the lake or something—”

You stopped him quickly, a yelp of protest leaving you as your hand found its way around his wrist.

Hyunjin hadn’t missed the pleading look in your eyes that flashed for just a second, his grip around your sword loosening as he let you take it back, slightly amused at the way you’d let out an annoyed huff, holding your sword protectively next to you.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled grumpily, “didn’t know someone that came from the goddess of love could be such a ​pain in the ass.​ ”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you, something about him finding your expression akin to that of a child as you sulked, not being able to help himself from prodding you further in retaliation. 

Taking a step closer to you, Hyunjin licked his lips as he tried to think of a response, taking his lower lip between his teeth and letting it go with a slowness that had only served to heighten the tension of the silence.

“What about you, then? I’m ​sure y​ou live up to what they say about Ares children ​craving​ fights and anger, right?” You couldn’t help but feel as though he were challenging you, as if he wanted you to prove him wrong, a feeling in his gut telling him that you would. He was confident in that, (also because he kind of hoped you would).

You’d met Hyunjin’s gaze, his words seeming to have struck a chord with you, a small pause ensuing before you’d shook your head slowly, averting your gaze from him, your gaze unconsciously flickering to the sky as a brief thought had crossed your mind on whether Ares would be angry at you for saying what you were about to say.

But you didn’t think you really cared.

“I don’t... fight without reason, okay?” you cursed yourself mentally for the way your words came out as a mumble, missing the small hint of a smile playing at Hyunjin’s lips, something making you want to look up at him.

Hyunjin nodded at you, liking the answer you gave him for the first time, “good. Me too.”

You’d met his gaze, finally, the sloshing of the lake behind you and the coolness of the summer night almost drowning out your next words.

“Good,” you murmured, “let’s... not give each other a reason, then.”

Shocking you with his reaction, Hyunjin had nodded, turning away as he tried to stifle his smile, his hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair again, only to have it fall softly back against his head.

“Go,” you murmured, not being able to tolerate the tension any longer, “join back your party.”

Hyunjin quirked an eyebrow at you, though he nodded nonetheless, a strange feeling within him after the interaction you’d just shared.

Leaving without another word, you turned your sword around in your hands, thankful to Hyunjin for doing something like that for you even though you’d been nothing but unfriendly to him recently, figuring that this could have been a ​peace offering​ of some sort.

And just for a moment, you thought, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

===

And maybe you were right about the whole ​peace offering t​hing, since after that day, it was safe to say that Hyunjin and you hadn’t bickered like you did before, tolerating each other’s presence whenever you would both be at the lake at the same time in the night, greeting each other with curt nods when you would walk past each other.

You were having dinner at the mess hall before another game of capture-the-flag that would start at 6 o’clock. Jaehyun had found his way to your table and seated himself next to you, so you were seated in between him and Jeongin, with Chan, Yuta and another son of Ares sitting in front of you.

Hyunjin was seated next to the newer Ares kid, minding his own business as he ate his food, his sisters on his other side talking about the pegasi riding lessons as Hyunjin tried his best to pay attention to the conversation you were having.

You’d been talking about some sort of event the camp was holding in the amphitheatre soon, something like a movie night. In other words, simply an excuse for the older kids to ask for dates to watch a movie with them.

“Are you gonna ask anyone?” Chan had asked Jaehyun, making Jeongin give you a look that was a little too obvious for your liking. 

You weren’t able to see Jaehyun’s reaction, since you were seated next to him, not that you cared much about it anyway since you knew it wouldn’t have meant anything.

Choosing to keep your gaze fixed on your food, you prodded at it with your fork as you waited for Jaehyun’s response, almost sighing when he’d cleared his throat, shrugging, “dunno, I guess.”

You missed the way Hyunjin’s gaze wandered from Jaehyun to Jeongin, to you, his mind running wild with possible reasons why Jeongin looked like Jaehyun had just told a joke instead of the response he just gave.

He recalled hearing from his sister the other day that Jaehyun had broken up with his girlfriend from back home, something stirring in him when he’d considered the thought that maybe Jaehyun had his eyes set on you. Not that Hyunjin was in any position to have a problem about it, of course, Jaehyun was free to like whoever he wanted, but something in Hyunjin almost wished for a moment that the feeling in his gut would be wrong for once.

Dismissing the thought quickly, he’d averted his gaze from Jaehyun, focusing on finishing his drink instead.

You looked up briefly to cast a glare at Jeongin, thankful to Yuta who had spoken up, uninterested in the topic of who Jaehyun’s choice of date was.

“Who says we have to bring dates? Why don’t we just go as a group of friends?” Yuta shrugged, Chan letting out a small giggle in response.

“That would be cute, I don’t mind that,” he agreed, Hyunjin nodding in agreement.

“Can I join? I’d rather not let my sisters try to matchmake me again this time,” Hyunjin grimaced, making you unintentionally perk up at the mention of matchmaking, wondering who they had in mind that would be a good fit for him, running through your mental list as you continued to prod at your food.

“Oh yeah, cause you guys are like children of ​cupid​ or something, right?” the boy snickered, something about his tone striking a nerve with you.

Did he really think a god as ​unpredictable​ and destructive as ​Ares​ was any better?

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, “​Aphrodite,” you quipped sternly, “it’s not that hard to remember.”

Jeongin had to stifle his laughter, and you continued to prod at your food, missing the small smile on Hyunjin’s face when you went back to eating as if you didn’t just say what you said.

The boy had immediately quietened down, afraid that he would warrant another chiding from you if he made another mistake, Jaehyun nudging you with an amused smile on his face.

“Go easy on the kid, he’s not familiar with how it works here yet.”

You huffed, unsure why you had felt so defensive over it as well. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t teased Hyunjin about it before. But maybe that was what irked you about the boy’s statement, how his tone sounded ​mocking​ almost, as if it wasn’t something to be proud of to be born from Aphrodite.

Sighing, you’d stood up, ready to get ready for the capture-the-flag game, turning to Jaehyun and scrunching your nose in distaste, “he’s gotta learn at some point.”

The sun was already beginning to set when you’d started the game, the sky growing darker the more the both of you made your way through the forest, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could as Hyunjin walked with you.

Hyunjin and yourself had been on a separate path to find the other team’s flag, the both of you having been split up from the rest after being bombarded with a group of Hermes’ children.

“Should we go that way?” Hyunjin asked, pointing in the direction of the lake, making you shake your head.

“No, they probably have a bunch of Poseidon’s kids standing by there, and I don’t know about you, but I really ​don’t​ wanna end up fighting Chan.”

Hyunjin let out a small huff, halfway to a giggle, a small pause ensuing as you stepped over a branch, turning to gesture to the branch as a warning to Hyunjin, hearing him murmur a small thanks to you. Something between the both of you felt more comfortable now, less hostile definitely, but something about it still felt tense, you just couldn’t exactly place the cause of the tension.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hyunjin asked, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice soft but loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, “what?” you prompted, turning when you’d felt a movement, relaxing when you realised it was just a dove.

“You’re not very fond of your dad, are you?” he asked, making you inhale deeply, huffing through your nose.

You turned to him with a sceptical look on your face, “are ​you?​ ” you scoffed.

“So, i’ll take that as a no?”

You paused, giving him a small nod.

Hyunjin hummed softly, reaching a hand up to push the overhanging leaf out of the way before it could hit your head without you realising.

“Can I ask why?” he hummed, his footsteps delicately treading on the ground softly in contrast with you who were simply walking normally.

You shrugged, “guess it never really felt like I ​fit​ into the ideals he wants in his children? You know? Like all that... ​destruction​ and ​aggression​ without reason, it just didn’t feel right to me,” you shrugged.

Hyunjin hummed, as if prompting you to continue, slightly distracted when he contemplated if he should offer his helmet to you since you didn’t have one.

“It felt kind of weird, to be honest, when he claimed me,” you shared, thankful that Hyunjin made you feel as though you could share these things with him without being attacked for not respecting your father. “It kind of felt like it was wrong.”

Hyunjin let out a small giggle at that, a small sound of disagreement leaving him, “I wouldn’t say totally​ wrong,” he offered, making your eyebrows raise in question, curious to hear what he had to say.

“You know, you’re strong-willed, passionate about what you want, good at combat,” he told you, making you huff in your attempt to suppress the strange feeling within you at Hyunjin’s words. Hyunjin himself felt as though such words were foreign to him, or maybe it was the intention behind the words. He wasn’t sure.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, the way your voice had come out as a mere squeak making you scrunch your nose up in distaste.

“What about you?” you asked, hearing a confused hum leave him.

“Am I fond of my mom?”

You turned to nod at him, seeing him shrug, “yeah, I guess. I guess the only downside I can think of is how we’re not the most... ​skilled​ at combat.”

You didn’t see it, but Hyunjin had to stop himself from letting his smile grow too big, especially because he knew his words had struck a chord with you.

Your breath hitched, feeling almost guilty hearing his words, not being able to help yourself from turning to him, stopping in your tracks in the middle of the path you were on.

“Sorry,” you told him, seeing him tilt his head at you, an expectant smirk on his face. 

“For what?”

You shrugged, averting your gaze as you knocked your shield against his gently, embarrassment taking over you at the awkward gesture, “you know, for... underestimating you.”

Daring yourself to meet his gaze, you were surprised to say the least, when he’d simply smiled at you, his tongue moving to graze over his canine, “apology accepted.”

About to move forward, Hyunjin had stopped you abruptly, his hand on your wrist with urgency in the gesture, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Jaehyun.”

You wrinkled your nose in dismay, shaking your head, “probably means we’re near.”

You heard footsteps growing louder, not having expected Jaehyun to be alone, but you should’ve known he wasn’t, especially when you’d heard footsteps behind you, spotting Chan with Jaehyun, and the flag not far behind them.

“I’ll take Chan,” Hyunjin told you quicker than you could react, already wielding his sword as he proceeded to duel with Chan, while Jaehyun made his way slowly over to you, gripping his trident (a gift from Poseidon himself, he was very proud to inform whoever ) and using it to smack against the ground with small thuds as he grew closer.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he gave you a grin, his dimples showing cutely.

You rolled your eyes, not being able to stop yourself from smiling.

“Yeah, Jaebum didn’t put me on flag duty today, but I see you didn’t get so lucky?” you murmured, already pulling your sword out, the sound of Hyunjin and Chan fighting behind you making you wonder just where everyone else was, having expected them to reach the flag before you and Hyunjin could.

Jaehyun scoffed, “hey, I ​love​ flag duty.”

Already going into your ready stance, you wanted to laugh when Jaehyun had done so as well, not being able to take him very seriously from knowing him for so long.

And so you swung your sword, managing to nick him on the arm before your sword collided with his trident, though you tried to ignore the intimidating sharpness of its prongs as you continued to try your best, to dodge his swings and use your difference in size to your advantage. It was a blur to you, the whole process, like it usually was.

You figured it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, where you would get lost in the fighting that you wouldn’t even have time to think before you acted, your body seeming to move naturally with its one goal of getting your opponent out of the way.

Maybe you’d thank Ares for ​that​ detail.

After you realised Hyunjin had stopped fighting Chan, you’d let yourself get distracted by wondering how he’d managed to get Chan to give up so easily, giving Jaehyun the opportunity to deliver a particularly strong blow to your shoulder.

Stumbling back, your back hitting the tree behind you as Jaehyun brought his trident up, your hand grasping the spear tightly as you tried to pull it away from your neck, though Jaehyun had an advantage with his stance, holding it against your neck and caging you in place, the tip of one of the pointed ends nicking you just below your jaw when you’d moved particularly abruptly.

Hyunjin had noticed of course, but after he’d managed to get Chan to leave with his Charmspeak​, you realised he was free to go get the flag.

So when you saw him coming behind Jaehyun, you used your hand to gesture to the flag, Hyunjin thankfully having gotten the hint and making a break towards the flag, more people having gathered as Jaehyun had let go of you finally, watching with a smile as Hyunjin had claimed the flag, looking at you with a dazed smile on his face.

Jaehyun helped you up from where you leaned against the tree, “he’s pretty good, isn’t he?” you heard him say.

“Who?” you frowned.

Jaehyun nodded his head towards Hyunjin, who was gracefully accepting the praise from the other campers as he made his way towards where you were.

You huffed, nodding, “yeah,” you murmured, “sure is.”

You were too tired to join for the celebration after the game, finding your way back to the Lake. (With how much you went there, people would have thought you were a daughter of Poseidon if not for the red motifs on your attire).

Having asked Jeongin if you could meet him later on after you showered for him to help you clean up your cuts like you would both usually do, you heard soft footsteps behind you, sighing in relief that Jeongin was finally here.

Only when the smell of that distinct flowery scent had grown stronger did you realise that was definitely not Jeongin, your suspicions proven when you saw Hyunjin seat himself down next to you, his hair wet and in a new change of clothes, having freshened up as well, glancing down to see a first-aid box in his hands.

But not any first-aid box, you realised, when you spotted the little stickers on the side of the opening, ​Jeongin’s​ first-aid box.

“Hope you don’t mind, Jeongin said he had to get something done,” Hyunjin’s hands came up to pull the neck of his white shirt higher, his bracelet sliding down on his arm, “may I?” he asked, your mouth still sealed shut in your uncertainty on how to respond.

You nodded belatedly, seeing him already taking out some antiseptic cream from the box with a small cotton bud, “oh, uh, no yeah, that’s fine.”

You took the liberty of taking an ice pack from Jeongin’s box, pressing it against the area where your neck met your shoulder, sighing softly, and maybe even cursing Jaehyun in your head for practically ramming your back into that tree just now.

“I didn’t know you were still injured,” Hyunjin murmured, looking at your neck and then back down at his hands, “thought you would’ve just asked Jaehyun to heal you or something.” His voice came out in mumbles as he concentrated on getting the tube open.

Hyunjin figured with how comfortable you looked around Jaehyun that you wouldn’t have hesitated to accept his help, especially since no one liked to live with their injuries if they could help it, but Hyunjin had to dismiss the thought quickly when he started to think about how closeby the Lake was to the Poseidon cabin, wondering if that was the reason behind your constant presence here.

Pursing your lips, you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you, “I don’t really wanna do that unless it’s super serious,” you began.

Hyunjin hummed, “sorry can you like, look there a little?” he gestured to your right, making you turn to your right, side-eyeing Hyunjin at the little giggle that left him.

“No, like,” you’d tensed up when you felt his hand reach forward to tilt your chin up gently, exposing your cut better to him, wincing slightly when the cotton bud had touched your cut.

“You were saying?” Hyunjin prompted you, making you hum in confusion before realising he was referring to the whole healing thing.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess when you’re a demigod and even things like healing can be done just like that, everything can become really... ​instantaneous​,” you explained, “guess it’s nice to have slow moments like these that kind of feel more like, normal and stuff,” your laughter came out in a small burst, feeling strangely embarrassed to be telling Hyunjin something that felt so stupid when it came out of your mouth.

“Scarring?” Hyunjin laughed, making you shoot him a pointed look, “I'm kidding. I get it.” he smiled, not knowing what came over him to decide to continue, “besides, if Jaehyun healed you, I wouldn’t get to be here right now,” he huffed.

You turned to him, trying to decipher what he meant by that yet at the same time feeling as if you knew, Hyunjin’s gaze fixed on your neck as he placed a small bandage over your cut there, his fingers grazing over the skin there in a way that made you freeze in place, something about his movements and gestures feeling as though they were balancing on the line between intentional and unintentional.

Hyunjin’s gaze shifted to your eyes, offering you a small (and slightly belated smile) before his gaze fell to your forearm, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw the wound, grimacing.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve let you fight Chan instead of Jaehyun,” he laughed, beginning to apply the cream with gentle touches to your arm, his neck craned over your arm, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that made you want to reach your hand out and run your hands through it to push it back, shocking yourself at your thought.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you assured him, making him shake his head.

“Kind of think it would’ve been more for myself than for you,” he huffed, once again confusing you with the implication behind his words.

Pulling out a medium-sized dressing for your wound, he’d pressed it against your wound, securing it before his hands returned to his lap, Hyunjin almost forgetting himself for a moment with the tension he was feeling.

“All done,” he gave you a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as a barely-audible sigh left his lips, about to put the supplies back into the first-aid box when you’d stopped him, not knowing why your body seemed to be moving against your rational thought.

Your other hand came up to take the box from his hands slowly, shaking your head at him, “you’re injured too,” you pointed out, seeing his eyes widen and his lips part, a small scoff leaving him.

“It’s nothing,” he assured you, though his tone didn’t sound very convincing, a part of him simply refusing for the sake of refusing, “you don’t have to,” he tried again, knowing once again that his charmspeak didn’t work when you’d shook your head insistently.

“It’s ​something,​” you dismissed him, though a small smile found its way onto your face as Hyunjin had wordlessly tugged the sleeve of his shirt up to expose the cut on his arm to you.

Hyunjin had to admit being in such close proximity to you was definitely making him more tense than he was used to being, especially more so now that he knew he couldn’t depend on his abilities​ to make himself seem more likeable to you. Though Hyunjin would argue that it was refreshing, since sometimes he found that he would say things offhandedly and end up using his abilities on accident, but he couldn’t lie that it made him very, ​very​ nervous.

“You came out pretty unharmed,” you murmured with an impressed hint to your tone, “considering you went against Chan.”

Hyunjin shrugged, flushing slightly, masking his shyness with an exaggerated yelp when you’d touched the cotton bud to his wound, flinching back and making you laugh.

“Don’t be dramatic, you were fine when I did it the first time,” you scoffed, seeing him calm down from his act but the smile had lingered on his face nonetheless.

“Yeah, well... I was just lucky he didn’t have a trident too.”

Hyunjin pressed his lips together in a firm line, not having noticed whatever you were doing to his arm because he was too busy looking at your face.

You couldn’t pay too much attention to it, continuing to ramble to take your mind off of how much Hyunjin’s presence made you nervous, especially with the way you could feel him looking at you.

“How did you do that, by the way?” you asked, remembering how you’d seen Chan walk away from Hyunjin halfway when they were fighting, something about the image having popped into your head when you were treating his cut.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, “do what?”

You touched the skin above his cut on accident, seeing him flinch back slightly, “sorry,” you gave him a sheepish smile, “I mean, you know, he just suddenly... ​left​ halfway, like he just stopped fighting you.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted in realisation, a hum of understanding leaving him, “it was uh... my charmspeak.”

The frown on your face must’ve adequately expressed your confusion, since Hyunjin continued.

“I guess you could say it’s one of the gifts from Aphrodite? That I can sort of like... hypnotize someone into doing what I want them to do.”

Your eyes widened, not having realised Hyunjin was capable of such a thing, starting to understand why Yuta had mentioned fearing their powers more than those of Poseidon’s children.

“That’s... cool,” you hummed, “I was surprised you even used it, you know, considering you were already taking him on pretty well even without the uh... hypno powers,” you waved your hands in front of your eyes for emphasis, making him wrinkle his nose, not seeming to be very convinced.

You scoffed at how modest he was being, shaking your head, “no, seriously. Jaehyun said so too,” you told him, “you’re a good fighter.”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, hoping the moonlight wouldn’t give away the heat creeping up on his cheeks, unsure why he was so flattered by your comment, especially since it wasn’t the first time he was hearing it. Maybe since it was his first time hearing ​you,​ of all people, saying it.

“Thanks,” he murmured, a small smile playing at his lips.

“You know, since Aphrodite doesn’t usually play in the war games,” you continued, “I have to admit it was kind of... nice,” you glanced at him briefly for a reaction, the slight quirk in his eyebrow making you rush to continue, “you know, not saying it was nice to fight you but like....nice to fight ​with​ you.”

“Thanks,” he murmured finally, making your shoulders relax unconsciously in your relief, “I uh, thought it was nice too.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, taking a bandage from the first aid box and scooting closer to Hyunjin just slightly, wrapping the bandage around his arm carefully, Hyunjin’s other hand on his lap as he observed your movements carefully.

You thought about how you would’ve never expected yourself to be so comfortable with Hyunjin, figuring one thing that helped you get to this point was since you’d been spending majority of the summer around each other, thinking back to how you felt like your dislike towards him had started to dissipate after that day he’d returned you his sword. A part of you did still feel bad for not thanking him properly for that.

“Thanks, by the way,” you mumbled, “for that day, when you helped me get back my sword.”

You weren’t sure why you were feeling so drawn to him. You were supposed to be ​strong​ for crying out loud. Everything about your interactions with him had just felt so ​new t​ o you, and they did to him too (though he was better at hiding it than you were). You couldn’t understand why all Hyunjin had to do was just sit there and that was all it took to make you anxious and too nervous to look him in the eyes.

But finally, you’d mustered whatever courage you had within you to do just that, after you were done wrapping his wound up, watching silently as he brought his sleeve back down, refraining from reaching over to grasp your hand before you could withdraw it. Though once you’d met his gaze, you’d felt trapped, almost, something in you not being able to look away.

“You’re welcome,” he told you, his tone gentle and melodic, something so ​him​ that you couldn’t find a better response but to nod.

You saw his gaze flicker to your lips just briefly before looking back at your eyes, making you unknowingly do so as well, the silence between the both of you feeling almost suffocating and making you tap-out first.

Turning away quickly, you’d picked the first-aid box off of the floor, pretending to be interested in closing it as Hyunjin regained his composure, standing up and dusting off the dirt on his pants.

Hyunjin debated on helping you up, wondering if you would accept his hand if he were to offer it, his mental back-and-forth making him lose the opportunity quickly when you’d simply stood up on your own, dusting the dirt from your pants. Hyunjin pressing his lips together in a firm line to hide his disappointment at himself.

“I’ll uh... walk you back to your cabin?” he asked, earning a small nod from you.

You could still hear people nearby in the amphitheatre celebrating, thankful that they were either too drunk or too caught up in their conversations to notice you and Hyunjin walking towards the Ares cabins.

Once you’d reached, you turned to Hyunjin, giving him a small smile, and he wondered how you could look so out of place standing in front of the deep red cabin in front of him with its barbed wire perimeter and the intimidating Ares brothers that were eyeing Hyunjin suspiciously from the window, yet somehow managing to look right at home. And he was growing to like that.

“What?” you asked, a slight furrow in your brow when Hyunjin had let his gaze linger a little too long without saying anything.

Hyunjin gave you a soft smile, shaking his head as he tucked his hands into his pockets, “nothing. Bye.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t help the smile from your face as well, nodding slowly, “bye.”

===

Things between you and Hyunjin after that day were... ​different​ to say the least. It’d almost been an unspoken thing for the both of you to meet at the Lake in the evening and talk about whatever it was that was in your minds before he would walk you back to the cabin.

Jaebum ​loved​ to situate himself at the front porch to ‘read’ whenever it would be time for you to come back, his knowing smile always serving to unnerve you.

Hyunjin was a good friend, you came to realise. Talking to him was different, different from talking to your Ares brothers who were so insistent on putting up a tough front all the time, (aside from those days Yuta would show up in your room wanting to watch a sad movie), or talking to Jeongin because your conversations would usually revolve around mindless things or become all too philosophical to be discussed while sober.

But Hyunjin, talking to him felt ​balanced,​ in a sense. Something about how his personality brought out a side of you that you never really paid much attention to, the part that freely loved things and appreciated the ​nowness​ of things without always anticipating what was about to happen next or what you had to prepare for. How just being at the lake with him had made your nights feel longer and allowed you to relish in it, not having to be caught up with the activities of the day when you were there with him.

You figured another reason could be because talking with him didn’t feel like he was just waiting for his turn to speak or give his opinion, it was very clear to you whenever he had those days where he’d simply wanted to listen to what was weighing on your mind and help you through that, without you having to ask him first.

And maybe it was that which warmed your heart, because as the days passed, you felt yourself starting to see Hyunjin differently. How you would find yourself looking out for him without even realising, getting the feeling of wanting to make him happy, or observing little details about him that you wouldn’t have bothered to notice about Yuta or Jeongin.

It was one particular day at the mess hall that made you realise just how in trouble you were.

You were all back on that dreaded conversation topic of the movie night, hearing that someone had tried asking Jaehyun to go with them but getting turned down instead, the information seeming to stir childish scandal amongst your friends as they all tried to tease information out of Jaehyun as to why this was so.

“C’mon, why’d you say no? It’s not as if you were gonna ask someone else, right?” Chan laughed, Hyunjin perking up when Jaehyun had laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah? Says who? What if I wanted to ask Y/N?” Jaehyun gestured to you, bringing his drink to his lips nonchalantly.

You knew he was just using you as an example, but Hyunjin didn’t.

Looking at you with his eyes wide in surprise, his gaze flickered between you and Jaehyun as he tried to make sense of what was happening, something in him almost deflating at the thought that Jaehyun could have been interested in you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Hyunjin in a small panic, hoping he wouldn’t misread what Jaehyun said​. Why were you even worried about what he would think?

As calmly as you could, you let out a small scoff, “forget it, I wouldn’t go with you even if you asked,” you stuck your tongue out at Jaehyun, Hyunjin not knowing whether to take it as a joke or not, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Chan had turned to him.

“Didn’t someone ask you too?” Chan asked, having recalled seeing one of the daughters of Poseidon approaching Hyunjin the day before when he was conducting a pegasi riding lesson at the stables.

You looked at Hyunjin with evident surprise in your features, since he’d definitely excluded that little detail when he told you about his day the previous evening, surprising yourself even further when you’d pictured the scene in your head, wondering how he would’ve reacted.

Hyunjin cast you a brief glance, meeting your eyes and averting his gaze just as quickly to fixate it on Chan, nodding with as casual a shrug as he could muster, “yeah,” he answered simply.

You couldn’t help yourself, “and?” you blurted before you could stop yourself, catching Hyunjin off guard with the expectancy of your tone.

Jeongin eyed you suspiciously, though it went ignored by you as you focused on waiting for Hyunjin’s answer, watching as he let go of the tissue he was holding in his hands, bringing his drink up to his lips, almost raising his hands in surrender (but thankfully not doing so).

“Said no,” he shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink, eyeing you for a reaction over the rim of his cup.

You nodded slowly, a short hum of understanding leaving you as you turned back to Jeongin, making eye contact with the boy who was looking at you with a look that said he definitely was going to ask you about this later.

And he did, soon enough.

Lying on your bed on his back, Jeongin was busy pulling his knee to his chest in his attempt to do some ‘​yoga in bed​’ that he’d come across online. 

“What’s up with you and Hyunjin?”

“What do you mean, ‘whats up with me and Hyunjin’?” you huffed, hoping he wouldn’t read into your flustered expression as you turned away from him, concentrating on folding your freshly done laundry.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, letting go of his leg before pulling the other one towards his chest with a small grunt, “I ​mean​, what’s going on with you and Hyunjin?” he said again, making sure to enunciate his words pointedly.

You shrugged, “nothing, we’re friends,” you told him plainly (though not plain enough to please Jeongin), “that’s what’s going on.”

Straightening his leg, Jeongin lowered it down, stretching his hands over his head with a yawn, “then what was with your face when Chan said someone asked him out?”

You let out a high-pitched hum, making a wrong fold on your shirt, “well aren’t you an observant little thing,” you cooed, re-doing the fold.

“Don’t avoid the question,” Jeongin laughed, straightening up in his seat and looking at you with wide eyes, “why are you being so weird about it?”

You sighed, bunching up your shirt in your hands as you looked at him, “I don’t know what it is, okay? It’s just that... these days whenever i’m with him I keep thinking about how nice he looks or how good his stupid flower perfume smells or how he just, I don’t know, chooses his words so well,” you frowned.

“It’s weird, like, even ​I​ think it’s weird, because I don’t usually pay attention to things like that, but suddenly when it comes to him—” you inhaled deeply, stopping yourself short as you looked at Jeongin in desperation. “If it’s not some kind of magic, I don’t know what to make of it.”

Jeongin snorted, giving you a shrug.

“I’d ​love​ to just say you’re losing it, but I heard Aphrodite kids have a reputation for that, you know?”

You frowned, standing up to make your way towards where he was, “for what?” You slumped down on your bed next to him with your arms stretched out above you, rolling over until your shoulder was against his hip, a tired sigh leaving you.

“You know, the whole like... ​love voodoo​ shit,” Jeongin prompted, your confused expression making him groan, “it’s like what you guys can do with anger and fear but they do it with pleasant​ feelings instead.”

Your frown deepened, not having realised Hyunjin was capable of doing something like that.

“I thought it was only the charmspeak?” you frowned, seeing Jeongin roll his eyes.

“You say it as if Ares only gave you guys one ability.”

You snorted, “wouldn’t have put it past him,” you shifted your body to support your head with your hand, “has it happened before?”

Jeongin hummed, nodding matter-of-factly, “yeah, ​duh.​ ”

“Then, do you think that’s what’s happening to me?” you wondered out loud, bringing your legs up to hug your knees to your chest with a sigh, trying to wrack your brain for reasons why Hyunjin would manipulate your feelings like that. ​Did he not trust you?

Giving you a shrug, Jeongin laid back on his back, “dunno, maybe you can test it out or something. See if what you’re feeling is heightened when you’re talking to him, you know?”

You hummed, nodding slowly. You still didn’t know what would compel Hyunjin to do something like that, wondering if you weren’t on as good terms as you thought you were, deciding that for now, observing him was your best bet to figuring out just exactly what he wanted from you.

Hyunjin was stressing himself out too, but not quite over the same reasons that you were.

While you were trying to come to terms with the fact that you were finding him a little ​too pleasant to be normal, Hyunjin had been trying to come to terms with the fact that Jaehyun probably found you as pleasant as he did (or something along those lines).

He’d already passed the point of figuring out whether or not he liked you.​ He knew that for sure.

Whether it was because he was more in tune with his feelings of love or just him tending to trust his feelings more, he didn’t really pinpoint a specific cause. All he knew was that he had found himself completely enamoured with you, drawn to you in ways that made him question if ​his mother​ had a hand in this.

What he was more concerned with now, was coming to terms with the fact that you may not have felt the same way.

It was in the small things, like how he would let himself read into the looks or the inside jokes that Jaehyun shared, or how he couldn’t help but feel as though you would feel more comfortable with Jaehyun judging from your conversations and how naturally they flowed. Not that his conversations with you didn’t feel natural as well, Hyunjin just couldn’t help but ​worry​.

And this was new to him, these feelings of heightened worry or anxiousness that somehow you managed to bring out in him, though Hyunjin had to say that it wasn’t that bad, because with the anxiousness, he realised just how much he liked you. But nonetheless, as previously said, he really couldn’t help but worry.

Even now (or ​especially​ now), as Hyunjin was seated behind you in the amphitheater during the movie night, watching some sort of pirated romantic movie that, if anything, only made him more anxious about you, he couldn’t help the glances he would steal at Jaehyun every now and then. As if by some unlucky stroke of fate, he would always seem to turn to look at you at a part where Jaehyun would be whispering something that would elicit a laugh from you, something about the feeling of helplessness mixed with just a ​tinge​ of jealousy making Hyunjin’s stomach churn.

But what Hyunjin didn’t know was that you weren’t actually as amused as he thought you were.

What he didn’t see, past the giggling and inside jokes, was that your leg was bouncing incessantly in your seat, how your eyes were dead fixed on the movie playing but not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that even the way the male lead dressed had reminded you of Hyunjin.

You were trying your ​best,​ to ignore the sounds of agreement or giggles that would leave Hyunjin whenever Yuta would hum about the beauty of the leads, or the way Hyunjin would lean forward every so often to ask for another handful of popcorn. And he wouldn’t just ask, he would make sure his lips were barely centimeters away from your ear and that his voice was as enchanting as it was in the forest during your first encounter with him.

And then the scent of his perfume would flood your senses and your mind would be practically yelling at you that all you had to do was just turn ​ever so slightly​ and your face would be right in front of his.

But the keyword was ​trying​.

You ​couldn’t​ ignore it, with every instance, you were growing increasingly convinced that this was just Hyunjin’s way of messing with you and manipulating your feelings for reasons unbeknownst to you.

And as time passed, you were getting ​tired​ of feeling so strongly towards him when you frankly couldn’t do anything about it (it wasn’t as if you could just turn around and kiss him ​now,​ that would be too much implication and too little reasonable explanation on your part).

But your tipping point was a particularly tense scene in the movie when the lead couple had shared a moment, looking into each other's eyes and the male lead saying something stupid that you couldn’t bring yourself to remember, before sharing a deep kiss.

And of all moments, Hyunjin had chosen ​that​ moment to lean forward for what you felt was the thousandth time, “Y/N,” he whispered, “can I have the—”

You shoved the popcorn box behind you into his hands, a deep sigh leaving you, “here. Take it.”

Jeongin shared a look with Hyunjin, the younger boy’s hand coming up to stifle his smile when you stood up abruptly, deciding that what would do you good right now is some fresh air, or just... air where you could focus on anything ​other​ than Hyunjin.

Your sudden decision had caught Hyunjin off guard, frowning at you in confusion when you declared that you ‘needed some air’, stalking off in what Hyunjin assumed was the direction of the lake.

Turning to Jeongin, Hyunjin was about to speak when Jeongin had beat him to it, a definitive ‘yes’ leaving him.

Yuta let out a chuckle when Hyunjin had only looked more confused. 

“‘Yes’ what?”

Jaehyun turned to cast a knowing smile towards Hyunjin, making him even more confused to begin to process it.

“I’m guessing you wanted to ask where Y/N was going, but then I think you already know the answer to that,” Yuta pressed his lips together in a poor attempt to contain his smile.

“So, the next question would be whether to go after her, and my answer is yes,” Jeongin finished simply, Hyunjin’s lips parting and closing.

Scoffing, Hyunjin shook his head, “who said I was gonna ask about her?” he folded his arms, even though he had already begun to stand up, making Jeongin giggle.

Jeongin brought his hand up to shove Hyunjin out of the way, “dude, just go. You’re gonna make me miss the rest of this movie.”

===

You were sitting down closer to the water, thankful for the sound of the rushing water that managed to soothe you, running your fingers through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it from being blown about by the breeze, giving up at one point and simply huffing, staring at the rocks as though it would give you an answer to why you were so riled up.

But what irked you even more was that even here, you seemed to be so wrapped up in your thoughts of Hyunjin that you swore you could smell that same flowery scent even here. Cursing him mentally that whatever love voodoo he was doing was strong enough to make you think of him even when you were trying everything in your power ​not to.

Well, that was until you heard someone clear their throat gently behind you, a soft, “hey,” leaving them.

So the flowery scent was real.

You huffed in annoyance, “whatever you’re doing, you have to stop it now.”

Hyunjin frowned, making his way closer to you, “I’m not ​doing​ anything,” he told you, standing in front of you now, crouching into a squat so he could be at eye-level with you.

“Don’t play dumb, just ​undo​ it,” you tried again, not understanding how even when you wanted to be annoyed at him now, you couldn’t help but find the confusion on his face more than just a little endearing, your gaze softening for just a brief moment when you caught a good look at his face.

Hyunjin shook his head, his hands coming up beside his head in surrender, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted, making you groan.

“Jeongin told me, okay? That you and the other Aphrodite children can manipulate feelings of love, I need you to stop making me feel like this,” you told him plainly, your eyes searching his face in desperation hoping that he would at least take pity on you and stop playing dumb.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, his forehead creasing slightly when he frowned, “that’s... not possible.” 

You scoffed, seeing him rest one of his knees on the ground to balance himself, “what do you mean it’s ‘​not possible​’? Of course it’s possible, if you can do it, you can undo it, right?”

Hyunjin wanted to laugh, a small exasperated scoff leaving him, unsure what to make of this entire situation, “​I mean,” ​he struggled to contain his amusement, having passed the point of exasperation, “it’s not possible because it ​doesn’t work​ on you.”

Your frown had deepened, your lower lip unknowingly forming a pout as your eyes searched his expression for any sign that he may have been joking.

“Doesn’t work?” you panicked, unsure what to make of his words, “That doesn’t make sense, what do you mean it ​doesn’t work​? How can it n​ot w​ork?” your lips parted in confusion, Hyunjin getting tired of squatting and sitting before you instead.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head, “I’m just as confused as you, okay? I really don’t know, maybe Ares gave you a thick skull too,” he raised his hands in defence, a small bout of laughter leaving him, seemingly satisfied with his own joke.

Scoffing, you folded your arms, a small silence ensuing, somehow not being able to wrap your head around your newfound information, “explain.”

Hyunjin tilted his head at you, his elbow on his knee to support his head as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t place, “do you remember? That first day we played capture-the-flag and I told you to pick up the flag?”

You nodded, remembering that moment very well, how firm his gaze was, how sweet his tone sounded, how his proximity made you feel as though you couldn’t move, “I remember.”

“That was me trying to use my ​charmspeak​ on you, and ​failing​.”

You remembered the confusion you felt when he’d asked you to pick up the flag, your annoyance overpowering you and possibly being the reason why his abilities hadn’t worked.

“Ever since then, I realised it was ​never​ going to work on you,” he murmured, “and believe me, I would’ve known if it did. Which is why i’m telling you now,” he told you, his pace slowing down as his gaze stayed intent, enunciating his words clearly for you to hear.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, taking his lower lip between his teeth with a small pause before letting it go, his lips curving into a small smile, “that whatever you want me to undo, I ​can’t​ undo it.”

Only then did you realise the gravity of the situation, that whatever you were feeling towards Hyunjin was all coming from you, and that as much as you should’ve known, you still couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you at the knowledge that it was ​real.

Hyunjin had taken in a deep breath before you, patiently giving you the time you needed to process whatever he’d told you, amused at the fact that you looked as though you wanted to hide.

“I don’t really... know how to explain this to you,” you admitted, seeing Hyunjin bring his hand up to cover his mouth, stifling his smile while trying to maintain a serious expression.

Hyunjin shook his head, “you can explain it however you want, you can ​not​ explain it too, if you want.”

You frowned, figuring he’d probably felt embarrassed for you, standing up and pressing your lips tightly into a firm line, a silent way of telling him that you’d wanted to leave, Hyunjin giving you an understanding nod.

Deciding that you just needed to regain your composure, you nodded, giving him an apologetic smile before you left.

===

You’d obviously consulted Jeongin in the time between that and your next meeting, the said boy claiming that he would never have seen it coming if you’d asked him a month before. Though he was no less supportive, the other daughters of Ares seemed to agree with him as well, all of them singing praises to you about Hyunjin and why you shouldn’t ‘miss this opportunity’.

Which was what ended you up at the Lake again that night, hugging your jacket closer to yourself to protect yourself against the cold breeze.

Staring at Hyunjin’s back, you took a deep breath as you made your way towards where he was seated at your usual spot, dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants, not looking bothered at all by the cold.

“Hey,” he murmured, hearing the soft crunching of the pebbles under your shoes growing louder, a small smile on his face as you took a seat next to him, something about him not feeling as nervous as he’d expected himself to be.

Mustering a small hum in reply, you gulped, taking in a deep breath as you thought of where to start.

“Had a good day today?” you started, missing the way Hyunjin had quirked an eyebrow at you in his amusement.

He nodded, “average. Didn’t see you at dinner,” he mentioned, turning his head to look at you, silently questioning your sudden politeness.

“Yeah... wasn’t hungry. Was with Jaehyun and Jeongin at the arena.”

At the mention of Jaehyun, Hyunjin pursed his lips, his smile slowly disappearing as he nodded slowly in understanding.

“Does he like you?” he blurted abruptly, his words making your eyes widen. Once again, Hyunjin found himself ​wishing​ that Aphrodite would give him more confidence for once, especially in a time like this.

You shook your head, his words having shocked you into laughter, “oh, no, he doesn’t. He’s dating someone back home.”

“Really? But I heard from one of my sisters that—” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “your sisters? I heard it from Jaehyun himself. Trust me. He’s not interested.” 

Hyunjin had visibly relaxed, “oh...” his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, “good.” 

Turning to him, you’d raised an eyebrow at him, “good?”

He nodded, a small huff of laughter escaping him, “yeah, good. Honestly, I don’t think I'd stand a chance if he was involved.”

“What makes you say that?” you couldn’t help but laugh, in disbelief that he sounded almost threatened​ by Jaehyun.

Shrugging, Hyunjin shifted in his seat, bringing his hands behind him to support his weight, “you know, ​everybody​ loves him.”

You had to refrain from scoffing, “I think everyone loves ​you ​too.”

Hyunjin didn’t bother stopping himself, saying the first thing that had come to mind. 

“Including you?” ​Maybe Aphrodite heard him.

Your head whipped around to look at him, lips parting in shock as you met his gaze again, something about it exuding a kind of certainty that you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of, something about the fact that it was coming from Hyunjin making a warmth spread through your chest, once again reminding you that as delicate as the thought of Aphrodite was, Hyunjin never failed to show you that where there was beauty, there also came a lot of ​strength​.

You gave him a firm nod.

“Including me.”

A smile played at Hyunjin’s lips, “I’m glad you decided to meet me here.”

You huffed, “I had to,” you told him, “I had so many things I wanted to say to you, but now that i’m here it’s like... nothings coming to my head.”

Hyunjin’s smile grew, and it was such a ​Hyunjin​ thing to see. How he didn’t bother to contain his happiness, especially now, “what about you say the first thing that comes to your mind right now?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I would say I’m thankful that whatever i’m feeling isn’t just because of magic,” you averted your gaze briefly, daring yourself to hold his gaze no matter how foreign your words felt as they left your lips, “because it’s the first time it’s ever felt so... you know, ​real.​ ”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know i’m supposed to be like... ​familiar​ with love and everything but,” Hyunjin paused, finding his gaze lingering on your lips a little too long.

“Me too,” he finished.

You knew you weren’t hallucinating when you’d seen Hyunjin leaning closer to you, his hand behind him supporting his weight as he drew closer to you, your eyes slowly closing as Hyunjin’s lips were barely next to yours, being able to feel his breath just ghosting over your lips, something about it almost sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart wasn’t beating fast, your chest didn’t feel tight, this wasn’t like anything you were used to reading about it novels or witnessing in movies, or even hearing from your friends, no. Something about this moment had felt so ​comforting​, that with each second it had only managed to draw you in even more.

“May I?” his voice came out as barely above a whisper, your breath hitching at the way you’d felt as though you were hanging from a string, the anxiety from not having done this before but the urge to just go ahead with it because it had felt so ​natural​.

And soon enough, you’d felt his lips press gently against yours, sighing a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you let yourself follow his lead, feeling his hand move to touch the side of your head gently, the warmth from his hand flooding into your cheeks as you felt his hair brushing against your forehead with a featherlike pressure. It was as if every tiny detail was making itself known to you with the sole purpose of making you feel as if you were in some sort of perfect situation.

Almost deepening the kiss, Hyunjin stopped himself, pulling away almost reluctantly as his thumb grazed over your lower lip gently, his eyes looking dazed and unlike anything you’d seen before.

Feeling breathless and hazy, Hyunjin had let out a small huff, a smile making itself known on his face as he caressed your cheek softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, standing up as if nothing had happened, though you didn’t miss the way how this time he’d held a hand out for you to take.

Accepting his hand, he helped you up, but he hadn’t let go. Instead, he’d stepped just slightly closer to you, interlocking his fingers with yours as he turned to give you a smile, his eyes forming cute crescents and exuding pure relaxed happiness, something you were glad to have grown so accustomed to seeing ​and​ experiencing with him.

“What?” you asked, not being able to help yourself from feeling shy under his gaze. 

“Walk you back to your cabin?”

[neo-culture-mafia]

x메신저를 쏘지 마십시오x

previous chapter

Sungchan

Jeno broke roughly in the middle of the barren road. "What?" His eyes were squinted in anger, yet, still focused on the paved road in front of him. A thud was heard as Jisung's body fell to the floor of the van. "What the hell was that fo-" I had no time to think as Jeno's fist was looped around my collar, pulling me closer to his face.

"Look me in the eyes," he demanded, "and say that shit one more time." his lips were curled into a sinister look as the whole car took on a new atmosphere.

"Yuta. He gave Taeyong the idea to sell Neo Culture." I said in a pseudo-confident persona. A new face was added to the huddle as Jisung now stared me down like I was the enemy.

Jeno's hands reached for my stomach, the handcuffs I was provided now laying around the headrest and my wrist in a matter of seconds.

"Wai-" I tried to fight it, "Ji-" "Already on it." Jisung's hand cocked a gun and now aimed it right in-between my eyes. The cool metal sent a shiver down my spine as I was saying my final blessings.

"Start. Talking." New confidence found Jisung as he had lost all time and patience for anyone's bullshit.

"Yuta. He had met with Taeyong when Seven Stars had first started getting stronger. 2 years ago." I answered and I could tell Jeno was taking mental notes. "Yuta had given the idea that in order to avoid conflict-- maybe we should sell ourselves to them." I took a deep breath, "if you can't beat them-- join them, am I right?" I laughed but their stone-cold demeanor left them unfazed. "Tough crowd, okay, uh-" "no time for jokes, Sungchan." Jeno reminded and I shook my head trying to let any happiness shake away from my body, "you're right. Sorry." I nodded.

"Well, once we would've been apart of Seven Stars we would've taken them down from the inside. Ultimately 'en-slaving' them-" "Don't use that word." Jisung shook his head sadly, "we're not that type of people." Jisung released the round into his hand and putting the gun by his leg, hand running through his messy hair.  

I looked to Jeno and he only had hurt in his eyes-- no more anger. "But, we just sat back and let it happen to us." Jeno sighed, pulling the car to the side of the road so we were out of the middle of it. He had removed the keys and set them in the cup-holder.

"Well. Supposedly, Taeyong had thought it was a great idea. Yuta was the one that pulled out of it first." I explained, remembering the things I had witnessed first-hand. "Yuta thought of the outlier outcomes: What if it doesn't go as planned and we get hurt, en-slaved-" Jisung's head snapped up to me and gave me a look that wasn't short of 'killer', "sorry. Or getting split up." I motioned my head around to draw attention to our current situation.

"Then?" Jeno asked lowly, staring at the steering wheel lost in thought. "Then Taeyong couldn't be talked down. It was all supposed to happen the night that you all were captured in the warehouse." That had caught Jeno's attention. "The one where-" "where Taeyong missed the biggest outlier of them all." I nodded my head. "Mark."

It was if Jeno was frozen in time. "That's why Taeyong was so pissed. Mark had forfeited the peaceful surrender of the family." I pieced it together for Jisung who sat behind us in a state of disbelief. "That's the reason they both told the rest of the family to not come and save them no matter what happened." I continued, "He knew that you all were too strong-headed to listen to order at least 48 hours after they hadn't come home. Essentially-" "letting us walk into a trap once we did show up." Jeno got excited as he was finally piecing everything together.

"Seven Stars didn't expect you all to come there guns blazing. You had set up a rescue mission that translated into a death sentence for your leader." I stated the obvious at this point.

"What else do you know?" Jeno's head lolled to the side, his eyes staring up at me through his eyelashes. "...everything..." I smiled and he grabbed the seat rest and pulled it up, essentially releasing me from the close-proximity holder.

“You let me tell you the whole story of the mission-gone-wrong when you actually knew the whole time?” Jeno asked me with a disgusted look where I could only shrug, “it was nice seeing your point of view.” I smiled as he scoffed and looked out of the window, his gaze falling to his steering wheel.

I just there silently, waiting for anything to happen really: Questions, anger, tears, a gun being put to my head...anything.

I looked to Jeno was still lost in thought as he was staring at the steering wheel. I looked back to Jisung who just sat in defeat...no life in his face. "What's wrong, Jisung?" I asked quietly, "I'm..." he was trying to form a sentence that got the attention of Jeno in the front seat, who ultimately turned around to look at his younger friend, "I'm angry." Jisung nodded...very nonchalantly. "You have every right to be-" "That asshole took everything from us." His hands were balled in fists by his lap, "He took my family from me." Jisung seethed in a fit of quiet anger.

"My best friends flung themselves from a building because of that-" he shook his head, breaths getting faster, "that," he continued, "Jisung it's okay to be angry." Jeno reinstated, "That selfish fucking prick." Jisung said calmly, tears pricking the sides of his eyes.

"Jwi, we talked about this. If you keep substituting anger with sadness then you won't be able to control yourself when you finally let the anger go." Jeno sighed as only a few tears fell from Jisung's onyx-like eyes.

Jisung didn't say anything as he only crawled back to the blanket that abstractly laid on the floor near the back doors. "Can we just go?" Jisung mumbled, wrapping himself in the blanket and leaned against the back door so he could look back on what he was leaving behind, "I want Mark and y/n, now."

"Of course." Jeno started the vehicle once more and pulled back onto the barren roads. I looked back to see Jisung silently struggling to keep his cries quiet.

We drove for what felt like ever through farmland. "I need to get gas," Jeno instructed and pulled over to the nearest gas station. He got out after checking on Jisung through the rearview mirror-- hasn't changed positions from against the back door.

I made the older-brother decision to maneuver myself to the back of the van, sitting across from Jisung who had a dead-set gaze out of the window.

"Are you okay, Jisung-ah?" I asked calmly and I could see his eyes roll. "I'm so tired of people asking me that." He confessed and repositioned himself so he was farther away from me. "It's because we care-" "Don't you dare tell me you care," Jisung sat up quickly, our eyes being on the same level, "you were one of the main people who put me through pain in that damn base," Jisung pointed his finger in my face. "You were the one who walked me to the b-" I watched in pain as Jisung's lip started to quiver, his eyes holding hatred.

"-to the buyers." he choked out, tears shooting out of both eyes. Guilt settled in my chest as I couldn't look him in his eyes, "You did bad and good to us all. Now-now that you reveal yourself, we're supp-supposed to fall to your-your feet like you're a fucking god?" Jisung was letting his anger seep out in the cold hard truth, "I love you because you're family." He continued, wrapping himself into his blanket, setting himself into the corner, "but that doesn't mean I have to like you." he deadpanned and I had to accept this as the truth...because it was.

I looked over to my bag that sat behind my seat. I grabbed it and pulled it into my lap. "I--" I blinked, the wetness of my own eyes taking me off-guard. "I brought some snacks and some drinks." I pulled some out and set it next to his crumpled up frame, "I also have your glasses and anxiety medication." I held it out as he forcefully snatched it from my hands, "probably put rat pellets in it." I heard him mutter to himself, yet, I let it slide-- he was hurting and just had a bombshell of information dumped on him moments before. He was drowning in his own thoughts.

"I also heard you like rock music. So I've been downloading music for the past couple of months to show you- I also have earbuds if you wanted to listen privately. If not, I can play it on an auxiliary cord-" "Jeno hates rock music." Jisung cut me off, but looked at me for a moment. Well...looking at the phone. I knew he wanted it but didn't want to eat from the hand of the newly-ruled out "enemy".

"I'll just leave it here if you want it. The phone is yours, actually. The passcode is 2002."

I set it next to the juice I had gotten for him, "and the earbuds are right next to it." I quickly placed them and left back to my seat just in time for Jeno to come back in and take his own place behind the wheel.

"Next stop-- Mark's and y/n's." Jeno was smiling again. Even if he just found out that his power-hungry leader was going to sell him, he's still excited to see his best friend, his brother.

I looked back to see Jisung scrolling through the phone with the earbuds shoved in his ears. Rhythmic foot taps had Jeno curious as he was trying to see what his younger friend was doing. He had caught a glimpse of the phone and looked to me, "It's his. I had gotten him some rock music to listen to." I said and Jeno apprehensively nodded as he shifted the car into drive, "thanks, Sungchan." He looked back to see Jisung smiling in what felt like forever. He was going to let Jisung have his music...it's the least he could have.

~~~ It was way past 12 am when we rolled up to the farmhouse where Mark and y/n had been staying...even Donghyuck was in there...but I wasn't going to tell them I knew that. They would've kicked me out of the car miles ago. They would have to find out for themselves.

"Here, you stay in here and we'll go in and..." Jeno was so smiley to realize he looked like a mess. Tousled blonde hair and a blood-splattered face from hours before. I didn't want to be the one to kill his vibe though.

"Go get 'em." I smiled and they both hopped out of the van and met in front where they talked for a moment before pulling out their guns and running in different directions towards the house.

I watched with a smile as I pulled out my own phone, pulling up the familiar contact and pressing 'call'. The ringing in my ear calmed my nerves as the receiver was picked up. "Hello."

"Commence phase 3 of the plan. Tell Yuta that they were delivered safely and to get the rest of the neo-cultures to the head base." I smiled as I could hear Shotaro's excitement over the phone.

"Will do. Talk to you soon."

And with that, I was alone.

[queenmuzz]

Happy Mother's Day

I'm terribly sorry, this is supposed to be a happy day between mothers and their children, but you know how I am... Note: Set Between DMC4 and DMC5

Nero’s legs wobbled with numbness as he cautiously got off the bike, making sure that the motorcycle wouldn’t tip. He really didn’t want to bring it back to Lady with a ding in it. But when she had offered it to him to borrow, he couldn’t resist taking it for a spin. The vehicle was a beaut, lovingly taken care of, and...very, VERY fast. How that waif of a woman was able to hold on for dear life, he had no idea.

After he had steadied himself, he looked at his destination and frowned, looked down at the paper in his hand, and looked back up. The address was a match, but this place, right smack in the middle of downtown Redgrave, looked like a dump. A decrepit skeleton of what had once been a magnificent manor that looked abandoned for decades. Even though it looked like a prime location for a demon hang out, Lady had insisted that Dante wasn’t on a job. Nero had gotten the feeling she really wanted him to find the elder demon hunter.

Confused, and more than a little curious, he passed through the broken down wrought iron gate towards the house.

The overgrowth was tall and suffocating, but Nero noticed, just before what had been the entrance, a new path going to the left had been created, freshly trampled grass going around the corner. Nero didn’t see any other sign of disturbance, so this is probably where Dante had gone. So, he trudged along, wondering why of all places the man would have come here.

He pulled around the corner, and instantly came to a stop. Unlike the rest of the property, this area here had been recently maintained, the grass recently shorn (Nero had a sneaking suspicion it was Rebellion’s doing) A large oak tree, with bright green newborn leaves, cast a lovely dappled shadow upon the ground. And beneath the aged trunk was Dante, his back to Nero, facing a pair of granite stones. It took a few moments for Nero to realize...not stones… gravestones.

“Lady,” Dante didn’t turn around, “I told you that I didn’t need you here. I’m fine…” Nero caught the scent of flowers, specifically roses fluttering in the breeze. The young man awkwardly coughed, startling the man in red.

“Sheesh!” Dante rapidly turned around, revealing that the scent came from a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Well, nearly all red. In the middle of the bundle, was a single blue rose. “Didn’t expect to see you here kid! Heard Lady’s bike rumbling down the street, so I thought she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” “Yeah,” Nero said, scratching the bridge of his nose. Had Lady used him as a tool to get to Dante? “You weren’t in the office when I came by, but Lady let me use her bike, and gave me directions to...this place.” He didn’t know the significance of this area, but it was probably very important to Dante.

“Did she eh...?” he murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly resigned for some reason.

“Yeah, Kyrie told me I needed to get out of Fortuna, to take a break from rebuilding Fortuna. And the only place on the Mainland that I knew about, was your place.” That was partially the truth. Nero had also wanted to ask if Dante would be interested in a business idea that Nero had come up with: A mobile franchise using the Devil May Cry name, centered in Fortuna, but he had the feeling that this was not the time nor place to bring up business matters.

Dante chuckled, and looked down at the roses he was holding. “I guess Lady didn’t tell you why I was here.”

“Nah, and I didn’t ask.”

“Welp,” Dante rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. “Might as well get this over with. You know what day today is?”

Nero was perplexed. It was just another Sunday in May. He shrugged.

“Ah, maybe they don’t do it in Fortuna. Here, today is Mother’s Day. Where kids and adults spend time with, and thank the women that raised them, and well… I’m visiting my mom.”

Nero felt the pieces of the puzzle falling in the place. Fortuna’s version of Mother’s Day was during the autumn, and Nero hadn’t really cared much about it, considering his background. But to Dante, the day was more significant.

Suddenly, he felt the yank on his sleeve, and before he knew it, Dante had dragged him towards one of the gravestones, the one that was older, and slightly more worn. It was simple, no words on it, but there was flowering climbing roses carved along the edges. The one stone beside it was similar, but newer, and there were no roses, just intertwined climbing thorny stems.

“Hey Mom, I’d like to introduce you to that kid I was telling you about. This,” he pushed the boy further in front of the stone proudly, “is Nero.” He stood there, partly awkward and partly proud at the thought Dante had talked to his mom about him. Dante hadn’t mentioned his mom much, but Trish had helpfully filled in the blanks when Nero had asked why Dante had a pic of her on his desk.

“Oh, that’s not me...that’s Eva, Dante’s mother. It’s complicated, but I was created by Mundus to look like her, to lure him into a trap many years ago. She was very important to him, and while I don’t quite understand it, I know that she loved him dearly she loved the bot-”

She’d been interrupted by Dante coming in the office, and Nero hadn’t pried further.

Nero tried to come up with some words “Uh...hi.. It’s nice to meet you.” God he sounded like an idiot.

Thankfully, Dante swooped back in. “She was a wonderful woman. You’d think she was soft and demure, but the moment you pissed her off, she was as hard as steel. I can still feel her pulling on my ear when she caught me sneaking into the cookie jar before supper.” He chuckled and winced as he rubbed his earlobe, “A fantastic cook, a wonderful violinist and… an irreplaceable mom.” Dante’s voice trailed off, and for a moment all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the grass. Strange, despite never meeting her, with no connection to this family, Nero had a feeling he...belonged here.

“She would have adored you…” Dante murmured softly, startling Nero. He turned to find the older man with a wistful, almost melancholy look on his face.

“Huh?”

Instantly, that softness, that rare glimpse of something seldom seen, was locked up behind a steel grin. Dante laughed. “It’s nothin, just me talking without thinking. So, what about you? You’re on the Mainland now, best time to talk about your mom.” Dante must have seen his sudden scowl, and placed his hands up in surrender, realizing this was a sore spot. “Doesn’t have to be your blood mom. Can be any woman that helped you grow up!”

“Well,” Nero mused, “There was Cecilia, Kyrie’s mom,” he explained, “she was a heck of a woman. When Kyrie brought me home after I’d gotten into a scrap with the other kids at school, when they took my lunch, after she made sure I was okay, she gave me a ham and cheese sandwich on two pieces of fresh bread. She was a baker by trade, you see. And every day after that, when school was day, Kyrie would bring me to her, and Cecilia wouldn’t let leave until I couldn’t eat another bite. She was always looking out for me afterwards. Making sure I got my school work done, mended my clothes, and then when the Orphanage didn’t have clothes my size, she got Credo to get me measured up so she could get me several sets of clothes. But most of all…” he continued, trying to figure out why his eyes were getting all watery. Must be from the newly cut grass. “Unlike the rest of the island, she never judged me, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. I…” he took a deep breath, “I would have been proud to be called her son-in-law. But she never got the chance to see Kyrie and me grow up, to become a couple… Maybe if I had been there when the demon attack...” he trailed off, feeling a bit lost and alone. He couldn’t feel the same pain as Kyrie or Credo had, but there was pain nonetheless. He was surprised by a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the older man giving a smile of sympathy.

“I kinda feel where you’re coming from. My mom, she died in an attack too…she died protecting me from demons.” That smile vanished as Dante looked down at the gravestone...not this mother’s, the one beside it. “Our positions should have been switched” he murmured softly, grief on his face, “things would have been so much different, so much better...” Nero was perplexed. Was Dante wishing he had died so his mom had lived?

“Well, if she’s even half the mom you claim her to be, she’d probably be happy that you’re alive, strong enough to protect yourself, and others….” Nero tried to say what he was feeling, and it seemed to be what came from his heart. It seemed to do the trick, because Dante had perked up, and that mask of a grin was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re a good kid, Nero.” Dante said, and rubbed Nero’s head, laughing at the halfhearted scowl that earned. Dante looked up at the sky, the noon sun shining happily down. “Welp, I’m famished.... How bout we get our asses- I mean butts, sorry mom, back to the office and order some pizza. I’m pretty sure Lady owes me a couple boxes of them, for what she’s done…” Dante glared at her bike, barely visible from their location. Nero didn’t quite understand, but he’d never turn down free food.

“You go ahead, bring that bike back to her, tell her I’ll be there a bit later, just have to do a…” Dante looked down at the pair of graves. “A few more things to spruce up the place.”

Nero nodded. Obviously, Dante deserved some privacy, this was his mother’s resting place, so he turned to leave, his stomach already growling at the thought of pizza. He slightly worried he was turning out like the old man. Next thing he knew, he’d be having questionable tastes in fashion, and have a penchant for shooting old men in the head without explaining beforehand that the guy was trying to take over the world. Strange, he thought as he got on the bike, and looked back at the manor. It didn’t look as decrepit and creepy as before. Instead of a carcass of a house, it was a dignified memorial of happy times long since gone. A place that seemed to welcome him to return as often as he’d like. As he drove off, he remembered that he’d forgotten, in all the emotional unloading, to ask about the other gravestone….

------

When the sound of Lady’s engine had finally faded away, Dante let out a breath that he’d been holding in for longer than he thought. Damn Lady, trying to get him to break down and tell the kid the truth. Well, there had been a few close calls, a few words slipped out, but that façade had been maintained, with the kid none the wiser.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, and then at the grave before him. “He’s a great kid, like I said.” He sighed, “I know you’re probably disappointed at me for not being truthful, you were always a big stickler for ‘Honesty’ but…” he pulled out the single blue rose out of the bouquet, and spun it between his fingers. “Bad stuff happens to us Spardas. You, me…” he placed that blue rose before the newer gravestone, “Vergil.... I just don’t want that to happen to him. The less he knows...the better. He deserves the stability that we never got...” He placed the roses down, and knelt down, eye level to the grave.

“I hope, wherever you are, that you’re at peace, and that he’s with you, so you can tell him what I never could, that he was loved just as much as you loved me….” His forehead touched the cool stone, and a few drops of water splashed onto the crimson blooms.

“Happy Mother’s Day”

[urisk-factor]

Ok I wanted to throw out a few of my own Heartless Headcannons, entirely the Jury, mostly Dock. TW for blood, mentions of animal testing, dead corpses, rats, organs, violence, and stuff that Dock would do. I'm just gonna tag this as body horror because I guess that counts. Oh and I headcannon Dock and Alastor as married too, sorry (not sorry), I don't make the rules.

Dock once, a month or two after graduating from medical school, got really drunk and blacked out. In the morning, he found a giant teddy bear and a human body in his room, with the organs from the human in the teddy, and the stuffing from the teddy in the human. He has no idea what happened that night and has no idea how he did it or where he got the teddy, let alone the body.

Bandy somehow knows everything before it's public. He knew that Alastor and Dock are married, he knew about Heartless, he knew about Lance's stash of "chewed items", he knew about Lorelei's black swan dress, and he knew about Diana's pet owl.

Anyways, like I said, Diana has a pet owl that she took care of since his mother left him. He's call Ben, and she likes saying stuff like "Ben killed and ate a mouse that I've been trying to shoot for weeks, he's a good boy, bless his heart" to people she's just met but have warmed up to enough to speak.

Lorelei sometimes calls Dock her "skirt buddy" to annoy him and he just accepts it.

Dock really hates animal testing, and once beat a guy to an inch of his life for testing drugs on rats. He took the rats and he still has them. They're old and well looked after.

Alastor once got so annoyed with a guy who was somehow bigger than Dock that he climbed up Dock's cloak, sat himself on Dock's shoulders, and started berating the man. Lorelei, Lance, and Bandy got in on video camera.

Their curses come from heavily repressed magic.

Their ages are Lance and Bandy at twenty-nine (29), Lorelei at thirty-two (32), Diana at thirty-seven (37), Alastor at thirty-nine (39), and Dock at fourty-three (43).

Dock's real name isn't actually Dock, but is instead Daniel Harrowmoore. Daniel Harrowmoore may or may not be wanted for arson. All Dock will say is that it was an accident.

Diana is somewhere between craving physical touch and hating physical touch at all times.

They leave notes on the fridge. The only ones who can read Dock's atrocious hand writing (it's the doctor hand writing) is Alastor because he's so familiar with doctor hand writing, and Diana because she made a code for it.

Following on from that last one, Lance once wrote "okay I am convinced that you're not even writing words anymore" under one of Dock's notes.

Lorelei has handwriting so neat and curvy and pretty that it's almost as impossible to read as Dock's, not quite though.

Lance, Lorelei, and Alastor are cat people, Bandy and Diana are dog people, and Dock just really loves animals of all kinds, especially if they're considered unlucky or horrible or something.

They have this sort of truck thing, with three seets in the front, three in the back, and then the boot. In the front, Diana drives (she's the only one who can drive), Dock navigates, and Alastor sits between them and helps Dock sometimes. In the back, Lorelei, Lance, and Bandy all sing show showtunes and get on the front three's nerves.

Well that's not totally true. When Dock was in his twenties, he had a motorcycle, but it was stolen and he never got it back.

Alastor is the only one allowed to hug Dock and vice versa. They're very affectionate towards each other, with Dock often coming up behind Alastor, wrapping his arms around Alastor's chest, and wresting his head on Alastor's. Alastor is a bit more nervous but will sometimes just zoom over to Dock and cling to his side.

Alastor's coat used to be Dock's. When Alastor first met Dock, it was really cold, in the middle of a snowstorm, in a giant city, alone, at twenty-one (21), at approximately three o'clock in the morning. He was walking down the street, shivering, when Dock just happened to leave a small twenty-four hour store, saw Alastor, and just went, "yup, small, shivering, not a threat, hey I wonder if he wants this jacket? I don't need it". Dock offered it and Alastor accepted, grateful. They would meet again a few years later and Dock recognized him by the same coat.

Dock has a bad habit of working for days straight, then heading back to his room/home or wherever he sleeps and just crashes and sleeps for the rest of the week. Only a Lorelei scream can wake him.

Not really a headcannon but my mind randomly went "what if the Jury aren't witch hunters, and are instead witches, pretending to be witch hunters, to save other witches, and this whole Heartless and Co. situation was just one big misunderstanding that could easily be solved by simple communication" and I thought it was funny.

Once the paparazzi were following the Jury leaders around, to the point of it probably being a crime, so Alastor invited them into the Jury HQ and told the leaders to be as obscene and messy and dickish as possible. Dock walked in, covered head to toe in blood, with a still beating heart of unknown origins. Just imagine this giant, massive thing, probably bigger than Dock's head. So anyways, he walks in with it in his hands, walks over to the head interviewer or whatever, dumped in into his lap, and said "I hope you find it just as delicious as I do." They left incredibly quickly after that, and never even looked in the Jury's direction after that.

[apossessionadaybreak]

Father’s Day Special

“Hey dad, I got you something” I announced, barging into the house.

“Hmm? Oh you shouldn’t have, there’s plenty of better things to spend money on than your old man.”

“Dad, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been wearing the same set of clothes every week. It’s Father’s Day! You deserve to have something new.”

He laughed. “Guilty as charged, put it in my room and I’ll have a look at it later.”

I did as he said, smiling to myself. I would do anything to make my dad happy, he had been so strong, so amazing, raising me all on his own. Not once had I ever heard him complain or lose his patience. If only I could do more for him… As my mind wandered, I began to feel a little woozy. Shopping for dad must have taken more out of me than I thought. I had even tried on some of the things I had bought for him. Of course I already knew his measurements but it was just for fun, to see the difference in size. I’m not sure what I was expecting, the pants sagged around my ankles and dropped down the moment I tried to put them around my waist. The belt hadn’t been any better, being way too long for someone like me to even consider. Still, I had earned at least a short nap. Surprisingly I could barely even keep my eyes open as I dragged myself to the bed. I was out in moments.

I gasped as I opened my eyes. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few seconds but something felt… odd. I somehow felt… thicker? Heavier? I shook my head to try to clear it which only reinforced the feeling that I had somehow grown a lot in a very short amount of time. I blinked and even the way my face moved felt strange. Looking down I saw that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. For one there was a lot more hair than I remembered, the thickest region right in the middle of my chest and more covering the rest of the front. I felt rather than saw, lines spanning my torso, defining muscles I had never bothered to develop. They were accompanied by a layer of fat and yet all of it felt, just right. Appropriate for a man my age. That thought gave me pause, I wasn’t sure when I had begun thinking of myself as a man but it certainly wasn’t within the last five minutes. Acting on instinct, I began to stretch. It felt good, better than I had ever known, the way my muscles pulled and tightened all around me. I took a deep breath and inhaled a scent that I knew instantly yet couldn’t place the name of. It was a few moments before I realised that it was coming from ME, it was what I smelled like. I took a few more tentative sniffs to confirm before putting my arms back down. I shook my head, I had hair all over my body in places I didn’t even remember. Everything felt distinctly familiar and foreign at the same time. I looked up to see a mirror, and saw my dad staring back at me.

I had never heard my dad scream before but somehow his deep voice still remained thunderous and commanding. I began to breathe faster, panicking. It was weird to say the least, to see my father, always so strong and stoic, having a meltdown. I swallowed hard attempting to calm myself and figure out just what the hell was going on. I scrambled to my feet, not even remembering having sat down. The weight and strength of this body nearly threw me off-balance even as I tried to stand up. Hesitantly, I looked into the mirror again, and saw my dad once again, making the same horrified face I had in my mind. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, feeling my huge chest inflate as I did so. Without even meaning to I felt blood rush straight to my member. I groaned, as if it wasn’t weird enough being in my dad’s body. I looked around me to confirm my surroundings. I seemed to be in my dad’s room. The shopping bag I had dumped here earlier was lying on its side. Looking down, I saw I was wearing the pants and belt I had tried on earlier except now they sat snugly around my waist, a perfect fit. I thumbed the material, scarcely daring to believe myself. I had shopped at the store so many times previously with no strange effects. Could something as simple as trying on clothes impart such supernatural properties? I wondered if my dad was in my body, experiencing the same weird scenario I was but given the complete silence throughout the rest of the house I was inclined to think otherwise. Somehow, I was possessing my dad’s body, filling out his suit pants. Now that I had gotten over the initial shock, another part of me couldn’t stop thinking how awesome this was, against my better judgment. I was my Dad. I was my own father. “This is crazy!” My dad’s voice boomed out of MY mouth, vocalising MY thoughts. I wanted to laugh, felt a mad urge to laugh and before I knew it was doubling over in the middle of the room, a lovely bass chuckle escaping my lips. My mind raced with all the possibilities that had opened up to me, I couldn’t even begin to describe the insanity of what was happening.

I felt my face with my thick, calloused fingers, feeling the tickle of the short bristles of hair on my head. A beard, I had an honest-to-goodness beard, well groomed and maintained. I ran my hands over the rest of my body, feeling newfound strength in my limbs and appreciated the WEIGHT of this body. It had never occurred to me just how well built, well proportioned my dad was but now I was seeing it in an all new light. I felt a bucking against my briefs as a small dark patch appeared on the trousers I had just bought. I laughed, I had always been a boxers man myself but couldn’t argue with how well the fabric supported my girthy new package. I ran my fingers through the dense pelt covering my chest and belly, taking a moment to circle my nipples, so much bigger and more sensitive than my own. My hands wandered down to my crotch and I began to unbuckle and unbutton, all thoughts of taboo replaced by the white haze of pleasure. However, as I slid the pants down past my knees, I began to feel woozy again, exactly how I felt before… this happened.

Coming to my senses, I quickly pulled the pants on again, the discomfort disappearing as quickly as I dressed. I couldn’t even begin to understand my powers but thought it best not to get too crazy for now. I flexed, striking a pose in the mirror and laughed as my dad obeyed my every command. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my dad’s wallet. An idea coming into my head, I grabbed and thumbed through the wad of notes and cards stored within. I, my dad had never liked spending money but today was Father’s day and he, I deserved to enjoy myself. I quickly located my car keys and phone, smiling as I unlocked the latter with my strong fingers. I couldn’t recall the password at the moment but with a quick fingerprint scan I was reading through all of my dad’s messages. Details and memories of my life flowed smoothly in, informing my movements, my thoughts. I snapped up a crisp white button-down from the closet, swiftly pulling it on and tucking it in to my trousers. I tilted my head and arched my back as I felt my body a second time through my clothes. The fabric stretched tight as it hugged my skin, my nipples, me.

Panting, I retained the presence of mind to grab a set of my, my dad’s clothes and moved to leave it in my room. Knocking on the door, I swung it open to reveal my body, lying still on the bed. A quick check revealed I was still breathing. Resolving to study my powers later, I laid the pile of clothes on the desk before closing the door behind me.

I wasted no time driving to the local mall where I had purchased my gifts. I walked around the same department store I had been in just hours earlier but failed to uncover anything unusual. The only difference was the way other people looked at me, talked to me. Gone were the glances of disdain and fake smiles for the teenager grabbing clothes far too big for him. Now they were far more attentive, sincerely giving their best pitches, eager for my approval. I smirked and shook my head, my budget had expanded far beyond what they had on display. I strode out, leaving them to gaze at my impressive back. A small grumble sounded from my stomach and I grinned. Following the smell of sizzling meat I sat myself at the fanciest restaurant in the area. I politely declined a menu, I already knew my favourite. “Steak, medium-rare, and a glass of your finest red.” The waiter nodded and retreated as swiftly as he came. I looked casually around the room, easing my bulk into the soft cushions of the chair as I made myself as comfortable as possible. All around me were people who probably never even gave my dad the time of day now shooting glances in my direction. As they should be, despite my usual appearance I was not a man to be taken lightly. I rolled my shoulders and unlocked my phone, studying up on my life as I waited.

An hour later I walked out, fully satiated, having left a generous tip to boot. I felt a small pang of guilt as I saw my face in the glass, my dad would never spend this much money but I consoled myself that it was just for today, he deserved to enjoy himself. I was certainly enjoying myself. I strolled around, exploring stores I had never even looked at before.

“Billy!” I turned around at the sound before I could even process the words, somehow my dad knew this man. I gave him a once-over, he was taller than my dad but seemed just as fit. I felt a smile come to my face and a bulge in my pants.

“Evening Phil.” The words left my mouth as easily as flowing water. This was my son’s, my, best friend’s dad and fellow lawyer. I grimaced a little, the mix-ups were getting more frequent and slightly worrying.

“Looking good my friend, finally using that paycheck of yours?”

I laughed. “Gifts from my son. For Father’s day.”

“Ahh they grow up so fast don’t they? Nicky gave me a tie though I wouldn’t say no to a new belt either, suits you well.”

I glanced down and smiled at my handiwork. “It is nice isn’t it?” I grinned as a plan began to form in my mind. “Perhaps he’s waiting to give you the rest.”

Phil snorted. “Yeah, right. If that ever happened I’ll need to send him for an exorcism.”

I laughed harder than before, he had no idea how close he was to the truth. “Was good seeing you Phil but I must be going. Places to be, errands to run.”

We waved each other goodbye as I stepped in the direction of the tailors. A bespoke suit would do very nicely and Phil would indeed look nice with a handsome new belt around his waist. Might give a new sparkle to his eyes, I thought to myself, grinning madly as I did so. Happy Father’s day indeed.

[whump-town]

If The Lord Don’t Forgive Me

Bi!Hotch returns

I brought Charlie around for round two because sometimes you just need sweet, wholesome gay love. And it’s sweet baby (okay sweet like sour gummy worms but it is sweet and, hey, I cut the whump out just to keep it that way so you’re welcome)

There is cussing, the slight implication to sex (but not graphic and far more like “men sometimes have sex”), homophobia (I know, I know why can’t I let them live in peace?? but I have to get something out of this too and I LOVE angst), child abuse (ugh... :( sorry Hotch but if you’re showing that pretty face in a fic, I’m gonna bring up the fact that your dad hit you...), and probably something else but I doubt it’s that bad

Anyways-- cut to the gay shit but let me hit it off with some “Work Song” by Hozier because... I’m the author and I can do what I want 

My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

Despite it only being eight o’clock in the morning, Aaron Hotchner feels today has aged him immensely.

The morning started with Emily knocking over an entire bookshelf. The decision to move her into his apartment was stupid and on a whim but he’s never truly felt the consequences of that until today. Which is good considering she’s been living there for nearly three years (straight from “dead” in London to living in his house)  but that is not where the focus should be placed. No, it should be placed on the fact that the crash caused him to jump. A normal, knee jerk reaction but not good when in the middle of shaving.

So, he’d come running out of the bathroom-- face stinging because he’s just jerked a razor across it-- to find the living room in shambles. Emily standing on the other side of the room looking to the point of tears but only managing the barest morsel of containment and Jack, school clothes covered in milk from his cereal, lower lip trembling, and little fist clenched for some semblance of control over the tears pouring down his face.

Standing there, the three of them each taking each other in, had felt surreal. Bit by bit, they all came together. Emily wiped her nose and rubbed the tear that fell off her face. She went to get him a band-aid and he went to Jack. That setback was only a step in the wrong direction.

Truthfully, that old bookshelf needed replacement about twenty-years ago when he built it. Its bitter fall was only a matter of time and he has yet to mourn it. The mess of the shelf was easy to clean up. He’d need to take the larger pieces to a dump or ask Morgan if he knows what to do with it. The books just got stacked on the floor and the wood splinters swept up and Jack advised to stay away from there until he or Emily could really go at it a little better and make sure there was nothing left.

The hard things came afterward.

Fighting with Jack to wear other clothes. He’d picked his current milk-soaked clothes out and Jack is reliant on a schedule. Changing clothes is a deviation and no matter how patient Hotch had tried to be, he was finding it hard to keep his cool. So he’d caved rather than lose his temper over something as simple as a second grader’s clothes. So, Jack went to school today in green overalls and blue rain boots that are a little too big. He’d looked silly but he’s seven so it’s technically still cute for him to do.

As for the nice cut he’d dug into his jaw, Emily had come to inform him that the only band-aids in the house are scooby doo. So, he has wood splinters in his living room, blood all over his shirt, Jack in poorly matching clothes, and a fucking scooby doo Band-Aid on his face.

Coffee is the only thing he knows can fix this.

“Uhm--” Leave it for today to also be the day he is confronted head-on with the very repressed sexual attraction he feels for men. “Can I--” his palms are embarrassingly damp. “Can I just get a-- a large black coffee?” The muscle in his forearm flexes and he can’t really force his fingers to grasp his wallet.

The man in question raises his eyebrow but takes the order. “Alrighty,” he answers. “Do you want creamer? Sugar?”

Hotch can feel his throat tightening in and his face heating up. Thank God he’s never been the type to flush visibly or else he’d be in some trouble. He forces his eyes on to the nametag pinned to the apron over the other man’s chest. Charlie, it reads. Hotch glances back up. “Yes-- Yes, please.” If he were a blusher, he’d be beet red.

Charlie smirks at the stammered manners. It’s cute. “You got a name, suit?”

“Ho--Hotch.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow at that but he’s not going to comment. It’s unprofessional and Hotch is more than likely a nickname. He lets it go. “Hotch” comes in enough that Charlie gets used to the strange nickname but to the staff of his shop he refers to the cute stuttering agent as “suit” and it’s easy to understand why.

“A-- A date?”

Charlie is gay but he’s not sure what “suit”/”Hotch” is. He’s thinking at least a little curious because getting the poor man into a stuttering puddle of anxiety and stammering is as simple as deviating from their typical “cream and sugar” discourse.

Charlie smirks, he thinks the stammering is cute. “Suit” is such a composed guy that it is cute. “Well, yeah. Unless the terminology has changed, yeah, suit, a date.”

Hotch’s throat feels impossibly tight. He’s aware of Charlie, very aware of him and his jaw and how hard the pads of his hands are and-- “I’m--” I’m not gay “Ugh, wh-when?”

Oh. Well, he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. “Hmm, good question. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Charlie sucks his lip into his mouth, thinking. He snaps his fingers with a sudden idea. He bites the Sharpie’s lid off (the one he uses to write names on the cups) and hurriedly scribbles something on a napkin. “Here’s my number. Text me and we can work that out.”

That was… months ago.

Things have been steady. Good.

Pulling in a deep breath, Aaron Hotchner plunges his head under the luke-warm water of his bathtub. Goosebumps have broken out across his skin but the cold kills the ache in his overworked muscles. Besides, he’s entirely too distracted by two things: (1) he’s too fucking big to fit comfortably in this bathtub. Knees bent, his thighs are out of the water making this bath entirely useless. (2) The very unnervingly attractive coffee shop barista who’s shop he goes to, all the time. Who just so happens to be on his way over right now, for dinner.

“Wow.”

Startled by the sound, Hotch jerks and gets a mouthful of water and suds. Coughing and pulling at his burning nose, Hotch scowls at the intruder. None other than Emily Prentiss standing at the side of the tub, one hand on her hip, and the other extending a towel to him. “Emily!”

She raises an eyebrow of indifference as if he’s the one acting oddly. “You can hold your breath for an impressive amount of time,” she says. She moves the towel in front of him, trying to get him to take it from her. He won’t move his hands from where he’s placed them over his groin.

“Emily, get out!”

“Why are you making this a big deal?” she groans, rolling her eyes. “Hotch I have seen you naked!.” She puts the towel near the edge, where he can reach it without it falling into the water or to the floor. She makes a show of planting her hand over her eyes and turning her back. “Such a baby,” she mumbles. “What is the big deal?”

He ignores her.

She hears the water moving with him as he stands, large splashes as he disturbs the surface. “You’re welcome by the way,” she mumbles. She’d thrown the towel in the dryer so it would be warm for when he got out. Contrary to his dramatics, she does love him. He’s her friend and in the same ways that he takes care of her, she makes sure someone takes care of him. “Besides,” she says, turning around despite his disapproving huff of a sigh. “I came to tell you Charlie is here.”

Hotch freezes. Ah… that’s why she’d come in. That deer in the headlights look that she doesn’t see nearly enough of. It’s silly, if not endearing, that Hotch gets so nervous for these dates. Charlie is pretty clearly head over heels for him and it’s a little surprising. Charlie all bright and cheery, a hard extravert. Perfect, always early to their dates, Charlie.

“He’s early,” Hotch stammers.

Emily nods. The date is at seven-thirty and it’s not quite six. “He knows,” she informs him, settling her hips back against the sink. She’s not watching him throw on his boxers but she’s just… standing there, talking as he drops the towel and makes quick work of drying himself off and pulling his legs into pants. “He also knows you’re in the bath so don’t go breaking your neck. I don’t want to tell your seven-foot-tall, beefcake of a boyfriend that you’ve managed to kill yourself in here.”

Hotch huffs, rolling his eyes. It would be just his luck that he breaks his neck in here while buck ass naked, with Charlie in the living room no doubt. Though, that is a bit of a ridiculous thought to care about.  Here Emily is standing, casually watching him pull jeans over his boxers, having already seen him in his full glory. Charlie, even, has seen all of what he has to offer. He’s spent the majority of his life in the company of Jessica. She’s seen him in hospital gowns, bare assed which is strangely humiliating (and there’s the bonus of the repressed memories of Jessica catching him and Haley multiple times).

They’ve all seen him naked but that’s still not something he wants to deal with.

“You really do look strange in jeans,” Emily informs him as he’s shrugging on his shirt. Charlie had warned him against his more traditional polo. Evidently, he’d look like a “stiff” if he chose to wear a polo to the park. He shoots her a glare but it’s true. No matter how many times she sees him in regular clothes… she just can’t get used to it.

Charlie isn’t mean to him when he wears jeans though.

“There you are,” Charlie greets when Hotch steps out of the bathroom. The strange, beautiful thing about Charlie is that he doesn’t really care that Hotch’s life is crazy. He’d been unsettled by the grisly things that seem to occur so brutally to Hotch but he was quick, startlingly so, to remind Hotch that none of what Charlie had just been told sounded like it was Hotch’s fault. Despite Hotch’s swayed narration.

He’d thought it might be a bit strange to have Emily living in his apartment but Charlie also knew about the details leading up to that decision. The loss of Haley putting a strain on Jack’s independence and pattern of life. Being a single parent and a federal agent pulling Hotch every which way. Haley’s father, Roy, falling ill and commanding more of Jessica’s attention. Then, the fateful fall out with Ian Doyle, Emily moving to London, and the internal bleeding that had almost killed Hotch.

The last of which had been the end all be all. Emily came home and she found herself drawn back here by the less than stellar track record of her family. The abrupt decision landed her here, with Hotch, and it’s been beneficial for everyone involved.

Charlie feels a little safer knowing that when he has to go back to his own apartment, Hotch has his own apartment full of Jack and Emily waiting up for him. Even though he’s only been with Hotch a short while, he’s becoming more and more aware of the trouble that seems to follow his partner.

“Your hair is still wet!” Charlie kisses Hotch, fingers slipping easily through the soaked hair at the back of his head. “I won’t take you out in the cold until you’ve dried it. The last thing I need is you getting sick on me.”

Jack nods seriously hearing this. He’s seated beside Charlie on the couch, the two having been discussing superhero comics. It was turning into an argument when Hotch had come out (who would win between Batman and Ironman-- Charlie says Ironman and Jack Batman). “You can’t get sick,” Jack informs him firmly. “You promised you’d make pancakes for breakfast Saturday.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “All I’m good for to you people is my cooking skills.”

Charlie sucks in a breath, making a I don’t know about that, sort of face. “Just your pancakes, Aaron.” Charlie pats Hotch’s thigh the opposite of tender just downright taunting. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

The chorus of grunted seconding of that statement behind him feels like a betrayal but he really is bad at cooking. And math. And remembering general the most basic things. So, true but hey! “I’m going to go dry my hair,” Hotch announces, shaking his head. Sure, laugh it up now. They all need him. It’s funny now… brats.

“Get some gloves! There’s a wind chill!”

Emily huffs a laugh and Hotch turns around to catch it. He smirks at the sight of his living room, melancholy swelling in his throat. His family genuinely looks like his lesbian best friend, his ex-wife’s older sister, his son, and his 6’5 ex-college football player turned coffee shop owner boyfriend. It’s a little crazy and yet… comforting because at eighteen when he’d packed up his meager belongings to go to college, he didn’t think he was capable of having any of this.

As Charlie pulls him out the door-- hair dry-- Jack’s actively talking to them both. Something pointless but childish and so, by reason, very important. Emily’s reaching into his jacket and stuffing a pair of gloves into his pocket, throwing a scarf at his head. Jessica’s calling after them too and as soon as the door shuts Hotch pulls in a deep breath.

“They’re smothering,” Charlie informs him as they step off the porch. He offers his hand out to Hotch, scowling down at the icy steps.

Hotch hums in agreeance taking Charlie’s hand out of necessity for touch not help. “You’ll get used to it.” The implication of his statement comes to hit him centerfold but Charlie seems unaffected and Hotch is reminded that not even ten minutes Charlie had said that he loved him. “I love you but you can not cook or bake. You literally burn everything.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Aaron? Did you hear me?”

Hotch blinks stupidly, looking up, and shaking his head. “No,” he mumbles regretfully.

Charlie shrugs it off. “I asked if you were hungry, yet.” Though a year is not altogether that much time, especially when compared to their ages, Charlie would like to think he has an understanding of Aaron. He does know that for certain, actually. He squeezes Aaron’s hand within his own and smiles over at him. He’s got layers, Aaron, and you have to pay a price to understand each and every one.

Somehow, that enchants Charlie. He loves it. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give up to have another layer.

“No need to pretend to be,” Charlie explains as they separate to get into his car. “You either or you aren’t. I just wondered if you wanted dinner now or after the walk.” Charlie wants his opinion. He desperately wants to understand what is going on in Aaron’s head. The thoughts he has when he gets silent like this, his restless fingers digging and rubbing.

Hotch hums, reflexively drawing his arms to his chest after he buckles himself into the car. He fidgets anxiously as he tries to figure out the correct answer. What it is that Charlie wants to hear. Charlie likes to eat early, that’s something he’s noticed. However, if Charlie’s asking him then maybe he doesn’t want to eat early. Would Charlie be hungrier after a walk? If they eat now it’ll be cold outside by the time they can get to the park. Then Charlie’s going to be mad at him because it’ll be his fault for having chosen to eat early and go to the park late. Maybe then Charlie will finally realize how stupid this whole relationship is, that he can do better, someone who isn’t like him, and--

“Hey.” Charlie doesn’t reach out and touch him. That’s a lesson he’s learned over the last few months. Hotch doesn’t mind physical touch but he’s easily unnerved by it when he doesn’t know it’s coming. Considering how lost in thought he just was, there is no way he would have seen it coming. “We can just go after, okay?”

Hotch immediately calms, “okay.” His shoulders fall from where he’d slowly, stiffly brought them up. He nods his head, looking down to his lap, while Charlie drives. He has to calm down.

He looks over, catching Charlie’s smooth movement. His arm is on the center console, palm up in a common gesture waiting for Aaron to take his hand. He blinks for a moment, mind slowly turning over exactly what this is. Glancing at Charlie, Hotch slowly lifts his hand up and shyly slots his fingers between his. Smiling when Charlie doesn’t even react much more than a pleased grin.

Oh, he thinks calmly. He likes holding Charlie’s hand. He likes Charlie. The way that he just fills the silence without ever expecting Hotch to return the vigor. Simply requiring Hotch remain engaged with the occasional hum of understanding or scowl of confusion. And Hotch loves that so much more-- that he never has to find the words to explain that he doesn’t understand. Charlie just knows.

“You can’t.”

Charlie frowns, turning to glance at Hotch. “What do you mean?” That’s where the compensation occurs-- Charlie is awful at remembering things. He forgets his dry cleaning, appointments that he set up, holidays, birthdays, weekend plans-- everything. Hotch seems to forget nothing.

Hotch looks out the window of the passenger side, feeling the cold seeping in from the door, but docile and contently closes his eyes to narrow his attention to Charlie’s thumb rubbing lazy patterns on the back of his hand. “On the twenty-third you have interviews for waiters. Your morning, at the very least, is packed.”

Charlies frowns, well shit. “You know,” he says, giving Hotch’s hand a little squeeze. “If you just came to work with me, I wouldn’t have to have those interviews. It would fix so many of both of our problems.”

Hotch turns his head, smirking at Charlie. Not true. It would fix some of their issues-- how much time Hotch’s job steals from them, Charlie’s need for more staff. However, Charlie just wants him working there because Charlie thinks Hotch would look hot in the apron (actually, he knows Hotch is hot in the apron).

They arrive at the park and the two get out. Charlie immediately regrets coming out in this weather.

The grass crunches under Hotch’s feet but he enjoys the way the snow muffles so much of the noise around them. Leaving nothing but the few courageous birds watching them from their perches. It’s a safety Hotch finds entirely enrapturing. Enough to not mind the cold at all and how Charlie’s been fussing with his own clothes since they set off.

Hotch is just walking along. His hands are cold but not enough to ache and with Charlie’s covering the majority of his right hand, he can slip the left into his pocket. It’s not until Charlie squeezes his hand to get his attention that they stop, that Hotch pulls his attention to his partner and away from the scenery.

Charlie pulls him by the lapels of his dark jacket, turning him so that they’re standing facing one another. The toes of their shoes bumping together. “Come here,” Charlie instructs, words a cloud of condensation around them. He wastes no time in pulling the hat off of his own head to pull it down over Hotch’s. Smiling when it smushes his overgrown bangs against his forehead. “I don’t want you getting an ear infection out here. Gotta keep you healthy.”

Hotch shyly grins, looking down at the ground, “I’ll be okay.” He still turns his cheek into Charlie’s palm, letting him wrap that hand around the back of his neck, turning his chin up to kiss him. His lips are cold and the tip of his nose feels frozen. “It’s not that cold.”

Charlie shrugs and Hotch doesn’t pull the hat off.

“You outta be disgusted by yourselves.”

Hotch flinches, recoiling from Charlie and bowing his head rather than to look up and see who it is shouting at them. But Charlie is not new to this little game and he straightens his back and raises a questioning brow. “Oh? Should we?” He glares down at the woman on the track, it’s clear she’d been running before she decided to come nosing her way into their business. “I’d appreciate it if you left us alone, ma’am. We aren’t hurting anyone.”

She scoffs.

Charlie stands still, unwavering. They’re big men. Hotch may be a force to be reckoned with but Charlie is not, by any means, small. They’re the same height and the woman in question is a petite blonde. They’re intimidating. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head disgusted but stalks off. Whispering under her breath about hell and how their time will come.

“What a hag,” Charlie grumbles, rolling his eyes and reaching down between them to take Hotch’s hand. He steps to move on but he feels the resistance in Aaron. His hand now loosely holding on to Charlie, fingers lightly hooked together. “Aaron--”

Hotch forces himself to take a steadying breath-- drop his shoulders, unclench his jaw, inhale slowly. His eyes peel up off of the ground and he knows he hasn’t moved fast enough. Creases of worry have broken up Charlie’s handsome face, tension that doesn’t belong there. “I--”

Charlie shakes his head, discouraging Hotch’s lame excuse. “What she said…” Charlie can’t tell Hotch that what she said shouldn’t affect him. That he should brush it off and not worry about what a small minded bitch has to say about them but that’s not fair. None of this ever really is. Not when it comes to Aaron. “She doesn’t matter, Aaron. You. You matter to me, okay?”

Hotch furrows his brows, letting out an aggravated puff of air as he fails to work through the shame burning his chest.

Charlie looks around them, tapping his fingers as he contemplates what he should do. “Do you--” How, in all of Virginia did he manage to get the one DILF, Unit Chief with the inability to make a decision or admit what he needs? He means it fondly, of course, but sometimes he’d like to lovingly shake some sense into this man.

Taking a calming moment, Charlie knows that his ability to play out this next scene is vital to his afternoon. If Aaron detects even a fraction of impatience, anger, or frustration he’ll shut down and then Charlie is going to have to spend days if not weeks working Aaron back to where he is now.

“It’s cold out here,” he states calmly. Aaron glances at him, sniffling and rubbing at his wind burned nose. “I’m hungry, I-- I forgot my lunch at home this morning.” Even though Aaron bought him a bright, hunter’s orange lunch box that sits painfully on his kitchen counter so that he has to see it. “What do you say we turn back for the car and surprise Jack with an early return? Order pizza? Watch some Scooby Doo?”

Aaron sniffles again, glancing at Charlie and then to the path they’re clearly meant to be headed on. “But…” he clears his throat. He can’t stand being like this. The anxious partner. The fucked up partner. He was with Haley. Now he is with Charlie. And, well, everyone knows how Haley played out. “You-- You wanted to walk.”

Charlie shakes his head, smiling and playfully poking Hotch’s chest. “No, I want to spend time with you.” Though he’s terrified Aaron will recoil from it, he makes the careful decision to touch him. Smiling when Aaron just looks back at him, searching for something but Charlie isn’t mad so Aaron won’t find what he’s looking for. He strokes Aaron cheek, “I’m cold. You’re cold. We can walk if you want but…”

Hotch looks back down the trail and shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want to walk.

Charlie feels pretty proud of himself. He’s pretty good at this.

And Jack is thrilled to have them back.

Hotch feigns hurt when Jack runs straight past him to Charlie. “Am I chopped liver?” But his light, fluttering chest betrays him and he can’t help a soft smirk as Jack holds Charlie’s hand. Charlie nodding, listening to Jack as he kicks his shoes off.

Emily appears at the mouth of the hall, frowning at the sight before her. She’s in different clothes from when they left. One of her dating apps having finally come through and delivered her plans for this lovely evening. She was just about to call Hotch to tell him she was going to have to call Jessica to watch Jack. “What are you doing back?”

Before Hotch can overthink the question Charlie smirks and motions over his shoulder, “it’s like ten degrees out there. Way too cold for a walk, don’t know what I was thinking.”

Good enough excuse for Emily, she doesn’t care. She has other things on her mind. “I have a date.” Both Aaron and Charlie look surprised. Which is annoying but she won’t engage them in conversation because she’s better than that. “So, I will be out of your hair this afternoon.”

Well, kind of. She steals some of their pizza before she leaves. Even sits down for an episode of Scooby Doo before her date texts and says she’s ready.

“Well, boys,” she leans down and kisses the top of Jack’s head. Wishing him a  good night and a whisper to make sure he’s extra good for his father when Hotch puts him down tonight. “I’m off. I will see you in the morning.” She offers Charlie a cordial head nod and Hotch gets his hair messed with as she passes.

“Be careful,” Hotch calls as she shuts the door.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to fall asleep and Hotch can feel himself slipping with Charlie leaning against him, his hand on the inside of Hotch’s thigh. Warm and comfortable, he doesn’t want to get up. But he manages to get Jack to bed with minimal fighting-- they agree to keep his nightlight, the hall light, and the bathroom light on. Emily even sends a text to confirm that she hasn’t been murdered by her date, he rolls his eyes but appreciates the sentiment.

It’s a good night, all things considered.

For a while, at least.

He’s in bed. Boxers shifted low on his hips as lays atop his beaten, threadbare comforter. The thick, heavy heat of an August night settling thickly over his bones. A blanket of sweat shining on his chest, just barely visible from the light of the hallway peaking into his cracked door. Downstairs, his parents roar on. He can make out every word spoken but if he hums just enough and presses his fingers into the thin mattress until it hurts he can numb out the world.

Nothing.

He thinks about Scott from his biology class. His booming laughter, already having hit his growth spurt and though only sixteen standing over them all in a man’s body. Thick with muscles that Aaron had felt when Scott had pulled him in for a tight, jovial bear hug. Perhaps he’d imagined it but for a split second Aaron had seen a flash of something-- warmth that he, himself, still can not name.

Closing his eyes, he brings back the heat of his stomach. A smile pulling at his lips as he thinks about how it felt pressed to Scott’s chest. Swallowed by the other’s boy’s body. The ache between his hips increases. It’s bad and it’s ugly but it’s Scott that he thinks about. It’s Scott that he wants.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Aaron scrambles upright, both hands planted on the bed as he scurries away from its edge and anywhere near where his father might be able to grab one of his frantically moving limbs. Still, a rough hand is thrown out and Aaron yelps in surprise as his body is yanked to the edge. He can’t hear the words being thrown at him, just looks at his drunken father screaming. Sees his mouth move but knows nothing of their meaning.

He’s wrenched up and out of bed, scrambling to keep up with the direction in which he’s pulled down the hall. To the large, cast iron clawfoot tub in the bathroom. He’s thrown chest first into it’s cold edge, his fingers wrapping tightly around the biting cold of the rim. He knows his fate long before his father’s broad hand grabs onto his hair and hauls him up just enough to push him down into the cold, soapy water.

His ringing ears hearing the slurs being thrown at him. Faggot. He screams as his father punches his exposed chest, causing him to gasp, the bubbles of air hitting his face. He’d used that word before. Thrown it at another boy the way rocks had been thrown at him for doing the same thing-- being too small, wearing weird clothes. He wonders exactly how it is that he can change because he tries. Good Lord, he tries so hard.

“Aaron.”

His vision blacks out for a moment and he’s lifted from the water. Everything feels strangely familiar. He can’t feel the cold water. Can’t feel the water dripping down his face.

“Aaron!”

He can’t expel the water in his throat. The hand on the back of his head tightens as water and his dinner come up, hot and wet against his chest as he’s moved mid-choke. His head goes under and he screams, grabbing frantically at his father’s hand on his head.

“Aaron--”

Screaming Aaron fights weakly against the hands touching him. It takes a moment for the uncoordinated sweeps of his arms to connect with nothing. For him to get a proper amount of space to breathe. The ringing numb of his ears slowly dies and he feels the world creeping back in around him. He blinks into the darkness, chest heaving  First, the dull clicking of fan in the corner of the room. It sweeps left to right, pauses, and comes back right to left. Then the hobbling, swinging of the fan above him. Cold air.

He’s not there in that tiny, suffocating town. In that too-big house with too many places to be seen and not nearly enough to hide.

“You fucking scared me,” pants someone behind him.

A large hand plants itself between his shoulder blades, the bed dipping as weight is moved across it’s top. His body flinches but he’s only minutely aware of the physical movement and, slowly, the rest of him leans into the warmth of the palm. Tears swell as he turns over his shoulder, eyes closed, and going blindly where he knows arms will enclose him. Protect him. “Charlie,” he finally recognizes. His face finds the other man’s shoulder and he feels, rather than hears, the sob that leaves his grimacing lips.

Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

Hotch gives himself over, leaning completely into him. Gently, Hotch feels Charlie moving parts of him to adjust them back onto the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” Charlie lays back, pulling Hotch’s knee so his hips cant against Charlie’s. The inner side of Hotch’s thighs lies laying across his. There’s no need to open his eyes, to fight. He knows he’s safe.

His tears have slowed but there’s no denying something big has happened. Lately, Hotch has noticed Charlie pushing for him to open up more but Charlie and Hotch’s childhoods are nothing alike. It’s hard to tell him about the dozen times his father put him in the hospital, each time with a better story than the last, and always Hotch’s fault. Had the whole town believing Hotch to be some miscreant kid.

And he was bad but not the sense that was ever true. He’d smoked and drank but that was small-town stuff. Everyone gets into that sort of thing one way or another. He’d had sex but no one he and his partners knew about that, his male partners, anyhow. The first time he’d slept with Haley he’d been proud to have fallen for a woman.

There was an old run-down barn that he’d take boys out to. There was one wall, facing the woods, that was strong enough to support weight and you could lean up against it. He’d been caught only once and the old farmer had beaten him with the wooden end of a rake. The other boy had managed to run off. Hotch’s pants had pooled against around his ankles and the other boy hadn’t taken his completely off his hips. That was a mistake Hotch only made that one time. Not that it would have mattered.

After that day, everyone knew what he was.

Which is what bred his nightmare. Though, that night had gone nothing like his dream. He’d come home with welts and broken ribs from the beating that old farmer gave him. As soon as he opened the door, he knew what was waiting for him. It was from the first floor that his father had dragged him, by his hair, to the second floor. Where Sean’s dirty bathwater sat cooling all afternoon.

But Hotch won’t tell Charlie about that day. It’s not worth it. So he changes the subject. “We need to clean the sheets,” Hotch finally sniffles. His voice is rough from the night’s activities and he remembers what they’d done before he’d fallen asleep and knows that surely did not help. Under his left hip, there is dampness to the old cotton sheet, like something wet has been drying. Sheets probably should be replaced but these are the back-up sheets and the goods ones are in the dryer.

Charlie hums, a vibration that Hotch can feel all the way down to his toes. “That would be your mess,” Charlie informs him matter-of-factly. Pressing his lips to Hotch’s forehead. “I did try to clean you up if you recall.” Charlie’s fingers have wrapped protectively around Hotch’s body, thumb lazily rubbing back and forth over his bare hip. “You told me to fuck off so…”

He remembers. He was still sensitive, shaking with exertion, and hadn’t taken kindly to Charlie dragging a slightly too cold wash rag over his ass. First of all, it was way too wet and secondly, it was cold. What was he to do other than protest?

Charlie’s chest shifts underneath his head as he bends to look at the clock. Yawning deeply Charlie pulls the blankets back over them both, rubbing at Hotch’s hip. “Let’s get some sleep,” he mumbles around another yawn that manages to overtake his breath. “Don’t be afraid to wake me up,” Charlie mumbles. “I want you to wake me up, capeesh?”

Hotch closes his eyes and turns a little more into the warmth of Charlie’s body. Trying to think of nothing. To slow the rapid progressions of his thoughts. There is no way that this was a good idea. A relationship. A life. He brought Haley into his world and looked at what happened. He’s a swirling storm of trouble, sucking in the best parts of the world and ruining them. He’s a liar.

“I love you, Aaron,” Charlie whispers, straining his neck to kiss the top of Hotch’s head. His hand holds Aaron still against him. “I don’t want you to be lying here suffering afraid to talk to me.”

I love you. I love you. I love you. That’s not good. It can’t be. He’s not worth that. Charlie is great. He’s gentle and he’s kind and he’s loving and Hotch can’t even decide when they should eat. If a walk in the park is better than a movie.

“You have not tricked me.” He wonders how Charlie sees so clearly into his mind. It’s not mind reading, Charlie can feel his pounding heart and tense muscles. He’s always so tense. “I love you completely, entirely, enchantingly by choice.” Charlie sighs softly. Content. He wishes desperately to bring Aaron the same peace that Aaron brings him. It's a content, pleased sigh that leaves his mouth and that confuses Aaron so much. No louder than a whisper, seemingly more to himself than to Aaron Charlie whispers. “There are worse life sentences than to be tricked into falling in love with you.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Need You - Geralt of Rivia

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: just canon typical monster fights and stuff

A/N: I don’t know what this is. Enjoy!

***

You stepped into the Rotten Pig and ran your gaze over the patrons. It was a horrible name for a pub but setting eyes on the cliental told you how they may have arrived upon it. No witcher. Damn it. You’d been trying to find Geralt for weeks. Every time you thought you’d caught up to him, you’d discover he’d left days before.

A familiar tune caught your ear and you followed it across the room. You grinned when Jaskier came into view behind a rather rowdy group. If anyone knew where Geralt was, it would be the bard. You leaned against a pole, arms crossed over your chest as you listened to him perform.

“Nicely done, bard,” you called as he finished.

He turned with wide eyes and grinned when he saw it was you. A moment later he was in front of you shaking your hand enthusiastically. “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in an age. How are you? Any tales you’d care to share with your favorite bard?”

“What do you need my tales for? Geralt is far more interesting than me.”

Jaskier’s smile fell into a sour look. “Yes, well Geralt doesn’t appreciate me like you do.”

You huffed and sat at a nearby table. He took the seat across from you. “He likes you. He’s just grumpy.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. He’s worse since you left. Downright miserable he is.”

Part of you was happy to hear it. After all, Geralt had been the one to declare that he didn’t need your help after you saved him from a particularly nasty clawing. You weren’t about to stick around where you weren’t wanted. Even if you did make more money with him at your side. For some reason people hesitated to hire a lone female to rid them of their monster problem. It didn’t help that your gear had you looking like anything but a witch.

“Where is he, Jaskier?”

“In the swamp. Bloedzuiger keeps attacking people traveling on the road.”

You curled your lip. Bloedzuigers were basically giant leeches that spat acid. “Well, that won’t make a very pretty ballad will it?”

The bard tilted his head from side to side as if he was considering it. Before he could say anything, the door slammed open. Geralt filled the opening. He was dirty and bloody but appeared mostly unharmed. Your gaze trailed him as he walked over to the man sitting at the end of the bar. A merchant if you’d tagged him right. A merchant who suddenly looked very nervous.

“Bloedzuiger’s dead. So are the drowners. I’ll take the rest of my pay now.” Geralt’s deep, rough voice sent a chill through you. Gods, you’d missed that voice.

“I paid you up front, Witcher. Even made a point of telling people that I’d done so. You aren’t getting more out of me now.” Sweat beaded on the lying man’s brow as his gaze darted around the room. Probably looking for someone to back him up.

Geralt hummed. “I wouldn’t kill a ghoul for what you gave me up front.”

“That’s not my problem. I paid and you did the work. It’s not like you can bring the creature back to life.” The merchant seemed very proud of himself. As if he’d pulled some great trick on the witcher.

You sighed and stood. Geralt didn’t need your help. He had his own ways to get his payment, but none of them would endear him to the townspeople. “He might not be able to, but I can.” You couldn’t actually, but they didn’t know that.

Geralt turned with a lifted brow. He ran his eyes over your length and back up. The corner of his mouth kicked up ever so slightly. “Y/N.”

“Geralt,” you responded with your own twitch of the lips. Your gaze shifted back to the man at his side. “Now, about that payment.”

“You’re Y/N? The mistress of night and slayer of injustice?”

What fresh misery was this? You turned your head to look at Jaskier who gave you a sheepish smile and a little wave. Damn bard. Geralt’s smile grew a bit wider.

“Yes, that’s me apparently. Money? Or would you prefer to be in a ballad yourself? Strictly in a slain enemy capacity of course.”

He tossed a bag of coins on the bar. “I don’t want no trouble. Times is tough, that’s all. You can’t blame me for trying to save some coin.”

Geralt hummed again and snatched the bag from the counter. As he ambled to the table, you motioned the barkeep for food and drink for the three of you. The witcher sat beside Jaskier and you took the spot directly across from him. Neither of you spoke as you just looked each other over.

When your ales were placed on the table, Geralt broke the silence. “It’s been awhile. You look…good.”

“You look filthy. How was the swamp?”

“Damp.”

“Of course, it was.” You rolled your eyes at his simple answer. Jaskier’s gaze kept darting between the two of you as if waiting for something monumental to happen.

Three bowls of stew were placed on the table and Geralt lost his patience with you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You arched a brow as you took a bite of your food. “Maybe I was just passing through.”

The look he gave you said he didn’t believe that for a moment.

“Fine. I need a favor.”

He paused with the spoon partway to his mouth. “What sort of favor?”

“Striga.”

He grunted. “That’s not a favor. That’s a job. A big one.”

You grimaced. “For what they’re paying, it’s definitely more like a favor.”

His amber eyes studied you. “Then the answer’s no. Besides, I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re still looking for Yennefer.” Your heart twinged as you said the name. No matter how many times you warmed Geralt’s bed he always went back to Yen. And it hurt every single time.

The silence stretched. Finally, Geralt tore his gaze from you. “I haven’t found her yet.”

You pushed yourself to your feet. “Well then, I guess there’s no reason for me stay. Jaskier, good to see you again.”

Geralt grabbed your wrist as you passed him. “Sit. Down.”

With a sigh you took the seat beside him. “What?”

His gaze locked on yours again and his grip didn’t loosen. “You won’t go after the striga on your own. Promise me.”

When you didn’t answer, his hold tightened. “Swear it.”

“You won’t hear a word about me fighting a striga. I promise.”

He held you a moment longer, his thumb running along your pulse point. “Be careful.”

***

The thing about strigas is they were fueled by a need to feed. They didn’t care who they killed only that they got to eat. They were also strong and vicious. This particular beast was tormenting a poor village. The money they’d managed to get together wasn’t much, but it was everything they had. You needed to kill the beast to spare them any further suffering.

You checked the potions on your belt and your weapons one last time. The men standing in front of you shuffled their feet nervously. “Remember, no one goes out tonight. No matter what you hear. And if anyone asks—”

“Your name is Yvetta of Nilfgaard,” recited one of the men.

“Very good. Now go.” You watched them hurry off to lock themselves in their homes. You had promised Geralt he wouldn’t hear word of you hunting the striga. Yvetta was another matter entirely.

The cemetery that spawned the creature sat at the foot of some nearby ruins. As far as you’d been able to tell, that was where the striga stayed when she wasn’t hunting. As the sun dropped to the horizon you opened the jar of pig’s blood you’d brought with you and splashed it around one section of the ruins. This was the area you had prepared earlier. An intricate trap ready to be sprung with a touch and the whisper of a word.

A scrambling of claws came with full dark and you drew your dagger. Taking a vial from your waist, you dumped the contents on your blade all the while hoping the creature wouldn’t get close enough for you to have to use it. After all, you were no witcher, just a witch that tried to right some of the wrongs in your world.

You strained your ears, but the sounds seemed to have stopped as suddenly as they started. You sucked in a breath and pushed all your senses to their limit trying to locate the creature. The searing pain at your back came with an unearthly shriek. It had snuck up behind you. There was nothing worse than a smart monster. Thankfully, your armor had blocked most of the impact. You’d be bruised for sure, but that was better than dead.

You fell forward and scrambled away before turning over. The circle was a short distance away waiting for you to finish the spell and you backed toward it as quickly as you could. The striga tilted her head as she looked you over and you got the feeling she was trying to figure out what you were up to. Your hands slid in the dirt and you curled your lip. Fantastic.

Finally, the power in your circle buzzed along your skin. You slapped your palm down and recited your word of power. A blue glow surrounded the area you were in and the striga immediately howled in panic. She lunged for the nearest opening in the wall and was bounced back. You kept your eyes on her while you withdrew another vial. If you timed things right you could take her down without her getting near you again.

Another word and a toss of the vial had a burst of flame shooting up from the floor and burning the beast. It screamed in outrage and pain. And then it turned those angry, beady eyes on you. Well, fuck. You tried to get to your feet, but the striga was too fast. She lunged, pinning you to the ground. You plunged your dagger into her side and she lifted her arm as she screamed. One swipe of those claws across your throat and you were done.

You grasped desperately at your waist trying to draw another vial but the beast was too heavy and had you pinned too thoroughly. You closed your eyes and braced for the impact. Instead, warm liquid covered you followed by another screech from the striga.

The weight was suddenly gone and you opened your eyes. Realizing you were covered in blood that was not your own, you wiped a hand down your face and pushed yourself up. There, at the other end of the small room you’d blocked off was Geralt fighting the striga who was now missing part of her arm. It laid a short distance away from you where he must have severed it to keep her from clawing you.

You got to your feet quickly, weaving slightly from the pain in your back. Geralt fought the beast, his eyes black from some potion he’d consumed before the battle. Your fingers found the vial you’d been searching for earlier and you launched it at creature. It exploded across the striga’s back and you yelled the elder word for stop. The creature immediately froze and Geralt took full advantage to end the beast. The striga was no more.

You looked between it and Geralt who stood over it panting. You wondered briefly if you could sneak away without him noticing. He was going to be pissed. After a moment, he put his sword away and turned to face you. You expected him to yell at you. To tell you that you were an idiot and he was never helping you again.

What you did not expect was for him to eat the ground up between you with several long strides. Before you could even think of reacting, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you forward. His lips slammed into yours and tension flowed from your body as your hands found his chest. The kiss was long and needy. When he finally pulled back, his jaw was still tight. 

“You lied.” His already deep voice had dropped even lower. Yeah, he was pissed.

“Technically, I said you wouldn’t hear about me fighting a striga. I’m fairly certain you didn’t, so no lie.”

“Y/N.” That was nothing more than a growl. He released you and paced away from you. “Why would you go after the striga alone? You know how dangerous they are. Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Geralt, these people have nothing. Less than nothing. Do you really expect me to stand aside and let them lose their lives as well? I had to try.”

He spun to face you, hands clenched at his sides. “And if you failed?”

“Well, then they at least would know someone cared enough about their fate to try to change it.” This all seemed perfectly reasonable to you, but every word you spoke seemed to make Geralt angrier.

“And what was I to do if you died?”

You sighed. “You would find another witch, Geralt. As memory serves you were on your way to find one the last time I saw you, so why are you here?”

He licked his lips. “Because I need you.”

You lifted your brows but said nothing. He didn’t need you. He needed Yennefer. You were just a convenient substitute for when she wasn’t around.

He sighed and tore his gaze from yours. “Yennefer hasn’t been in my bed since White Hall. No one has other than you.”

That was the first time the two of you slept together. “Don’t lie to me, Geralt. It doesn’t suit you.” It would take both hands for you to count the number of times he’d left you somewhere to run after Yennefer.

“I never lie.”

It was true that you’d never known him to lie before but if what he said was true, you’d suffered so much heartbreak for nothing. You shook your head, not even wanting to discuss this right then. “Let’s go back to the village. I need to get cleaned up.”

He grasped your arm and turned you back to face him. His hand cradled the side of your face. “Why are you crying?”

“Am I?” You moved to wipe the tears away, but he beat you to it. You licked your lips. “I’m not a fool, Geralt. I know where I stand in importance to you. And I tried to be okay with it because I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.” You took a step back. “So, thank you for your help and maybe I’ll see you around someday.”

“No,” he growled as he grabbed you and pulled you back to him. “You are not saying goodbye.” His lips slammed into yours and you couldn’t resist kissing him back. He tangled his fingers in your hair and held you in place as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours. “I don’t deserve you. I told myself to keep my distance, but fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I need you, Y/N. No one else just you.”

“What about me?” came from the darkness, startling a laugh out of you.

Geralt growled. “Jaskier, if this ends up in one of your songs you’ll wish that drowner had eaten you.”

“But what an epic tale it would be. The white wolf and the mistress of night.”

You shook your head and looped your arms around your witcher’s neck. “No. This one’s about Geralt and Y/N.” And his lips found yours again.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Fall From Grace

Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops. Prompt: Accidents

A careless bullet from Wilford's gun hits Yandere as he's up in the studio catwalks, and what happens next reminds Wilford too much of memories long-buried.

Warnings: Blood, violence, falling from a height, traumatic flashbacks

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

It’s a normal day in Wilford’s studio, though it’s not a filming day. The usual players are around; Bim and Wilford half-rehearsing, half-editing a script while the Jims scamper around in the catwalks, as they often do. This time, though, Yandere is with them, venturing through the dark space and running across beams. Wilford hasn’t heard much from the trio since they went up there aside from occasional bursts of giggles, so he suspects they’re getting along well. A nice change, as the Jims usually seem a little frightened of Yandere, for reasons Wilford can’t fathom at all. Who could be scared of his adorable, stabby little brother? Either way, the three seem to be having fun together now, which is more than could be said for Bim and Wilford. The script felt right when they first wrote it, but its chinks and mistakes are making themselves known as they rehearse it, resulting in edit after edit.

“Ugh, this blasted script!” Wilford mutters, pacing in annoyance. At some point he pulled out his gun in anger, though he’s now only using it to scratch an itch behind his ear. “I thought you knew what you were doing with this, Trimmer!”

“Hey, how is my fault!?” Bim cries, “You wrote on this as much as I did, and we’ve corrected plenty of your mistakes so far, by the way.”

“Plenty of yours, too!” Wilford insists. He waves the manuscript for emphasis. “You keep using too many words to say the simplest things! Real people don’t talk like that!”

“And you insist on paring down everything until it doesn’t make sense!” Bim retorts, “We have to give people something, or else they’ll get bored!”

“And your long-winded lines won’t bore them just as much?” Wilford scoffs, “If anyone in the room knows about entertaining, I think it’s the face of Mark’s whole channel, don’t you?”

“I look more like Mark than you ever did, you egomaniac!” Bim cries, then blinks. “That’s not the point, the point is that your lines suck and we’re gonna be fixing them all day!”

“Maybe once we fix yours!”

“Yours first, Pinky!”

The argument continues. Even Yandere and the Jims can hear them from the catwalks. The Jims are amused, Yandere is bewildered.

“Do they always argue like that?” Yandere asks, peering as far down as he can without losing his balance.

“Yep,” RJ replies, “They yell and yell, and sometimes Pink Jim fires his shooty, but they always work together later like nothing happened!”

“Huh,” Yandere muses, standing up straight again, “I can see that. Anyone else arguing with onii-san like that would’ve been shot by now.”

“PJ looks like he’s going to shoot something soon,” CJ signs, before literally pointing out the way Wilford is waving his gun around.

“Oh, maybe I spoke too soon,” Yandere says, though he seems unbothered by the prospect of Bim getting shot.

“Pink Jim never shoots Bim Jim!” RJ exclaims, then pauses. “Well, not on purpose. He’ll probably fire into the ceiling or something.”

True to form, Wilford aimlessly fires his gun right then, straight over his shoulder and into the catwalks – where it whizzes right past the group. CJ yelps and jumps, and RJ looks behind himself, searching for where the bullet went.

“That was close!” RJ says, “Right, Stabby Jim?” He gets no response, but hears a gasp from CJ. “Stabby Jim?” he repeats, turning to look at Yandere.

Yandere looks back, eyes wide, hands over his stomach, blood seeping rapidly through his fingers. He lists to the side, tries to step back to right himself. But his foot touches air, and he slides off the catwalk beam before the Jims can even reach for him.

They do anyway, though, crying out as Yandere falls straight down.

Bim and Wilford hear them, look in their direction with just enough time to see Yandere hit the ground with a thud, right on his back. He doesn’t get up.

“Oh, fuck–” gasps Bim, running past Wilford to get to Yandere. Wilford teleports instead, poofing to Yandere’s side.

“What on earth??” Wilford mutters, “Yan’s balance is better then mine–”

“Wil, he’s bleeding!” Bim shouts, kneeling down to Yandere, “When you fired your gun just now, it must’ve hit him, that must be why he fell! Oh shit, fuck, Yan, wake up–”

Yandere doesn’t. He lays motionless, eyes closed and limbs strewn like a doll aside from the one arm still laid across his bleeding stomach. Blood starts forming a pool around him. Wilford stares at Yandere, eyes getting wider by the moment as Bim frantically putters around him. He tries checking Yandere’s breathing, as much as he can without moving him.

“Oh no, Wil, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Bim gasps, looking to Wilford. “What are you waiting for, go get Doc! You can teleport faster than I can run!!”

Wilford can’t move. He can hardly think, except to remember something half-forgotten. Another body fallen from a height, another body with Wilford’s bullet in its gut. Everything feels like slow-motion, even as the pool of blood around Yandere creeps ever wider.

“It was an accident,” Wilford gasps. It’s all he can say.

Bim’s eyes widen with recognition as the Jims, having finally climbed down from the catwalk, run towards the group.

“We tried to catch him, we tried!” RJ exclaims, already in tears. CJ is crying, too.

“You can still help out,” Bim says, resolute and taking charge, “You two are the fastest runners here, go get Doc. Tell him what happened and that Yandere isn’t breathing.”

They nod before running away, so gangly it’s a wonder they don’t trip over themselves. But Bim’s right, the pair are faster runners than all but the androids. Dr. Iplier will arrive soon, but in the meantime, Yandere’s not the only one in trouble. Wilford is still frozen, still staring at Yandere with wide eyes, clouded over by the past. Ever since those videos Mark put out, all the egos have known about Wilford’s history, and Bim knows exactly what Wilford is thinking about now.

“Wilford,” Bim says, turning to his friend, “You need to get out of your own head. Where are you right now, can you tell me?”

“Was it my fault?” Wilford asks, voice small, accent nearly gone.

“No,” Bim replies immediately, “You didn’t know that would happen when you fired your gun, it was an accident.”

“An accident,” Wilford breathes, “An accident, that’s all it was…”

At that moment, Dr. Iplier comes running in, medical supplies in his arms.

“Doc!” Bim cries, relieved, “Oh thank god, where–”

“Back away!!” Dr. Iplier barks, rushing to Yandere’s side and dumping his supplies beside him. Bim scrambles away to give him space to work. “The Jims are getting Plus, I already know I’ll need his help with this.”

“Is Yandere–?” Bim asks, nervous.

Dr. Iplier checks Yandere’s pulse with two fingers on the nearest wrist, which happens to be the one covering his bloody stomach, and then leans down to listen for his breathing. After only a moment, he straightens up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he mutters as he starts chest compressions, “I haven’t done a hundred surgeries on you just so you could fall off a catwalk and die.”

“What if his back is broken?” Bim asks, wincing at the force of Dr. Iplier’s chest compressions.

“His breathing is more important than his back right now,” Dr. Iplier answers tersely, though he does pull Yandere’s lower jaw down to give him rescue breaths instead of tipping his head back.

He does one round of compressions and rescue breathing, then two. The whole time, Bim looks on with increasing anxiety, whimpering to himself in fear. Wilford continues to stare, the only change being the tears that start rolling down his cheeks. His mind is trapped in the past, back in those hours he spent staring at a body that wouldn’t move.

Finally, in the middle of the third round of compressions, Yandere gasps awake, coughing slightly and beginning to struggle. He doesn’t seem able to speak yet, still so winded and in pain he hardly knows what’s happening around him.

“Hey, lay still, Yan,” Dr. Iplier orders, though a measure of tension has left his voice and demeanor. “You fell off the catwalk, you might have a spinal injury. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

Yandere does, curling them back and forth.

“Alright, how about your toes?”

It’s hard to see through Yandere’s shoes, but he does move his toes. Dr. Iplier gently puts his hand on each shoe, one at a time, to feel the toes moving underneath.

“Alright,” Dr. Iplier sighs, even more relieved than a moment ago, “You have no idea how lucky you are, kid.”

“So his spine’s okay?” Bim asks, breathless with his own relief.

“Probably,” Dr. Iplier says, “But he could still have some fractured vertebrae, so he needs to be moved very carefully. I won’t do it until Plus gets here.” The sound of running footsteps pierces the air. “Speaking of…”

Plus strides into the room at top speed, pushing a stretcher with a backboard on top. CJ comes running in after him.

“Where’s RJ?” asks Bim, finally getting some breath back.

“We split up to look for Plus,” CJ explains, “I’m not sure where he went, but I’ll text him that I found Plus already.”

“Plus, help me get Yan onto the backboard,” Dr. Iplier says. Plus nods and gets to work. Dr. Iplier pauses a moment. “Looks like I need a third pair of hands. Bim, come over here.”

“Me?” Bim asks as he comes over.

“Someone has to put pressure on Yan’s bullet wound, it’s been bleeding too long already.” Dr. Iplier grabs a pack of gauze out of his med kit and hands it to Bim as he kneels down. He moves Yandere’s arm out of the way, revealing the wound. “Just keep pressing down on it with the gauze. If the gauze gets soaked through, tell me.”

Bim nods and starts putting pressure on Yandere’s wound, making Yandere whimper.

“Dad,” Yandere says, his first word since waking.

“You’ll be alright, hon,” Dr. Iplier tells him gently as he and Plus strap Yandere to the backboard and Bim keeps his hands pushing down. “Just keep staying still, alright?”

“Okay,” Yandere answers, too tired to do much else.

“Alright, he’ll be okay,” Bim sighs to himself.

“Doc,” Wilford gasps, speaking for the first time in a while, “Is it my fault?”

“Well…” Dr. Iplier says, unwilling to say “no.”

“What the hell, Doc!?” Bim cries, angry on Wilford’s behalf.

“Excuse me for not being very forgiving to the guy who shot my son and made him fall off a catwalk!!” Dr. Iplier snaps, beginning to wrap a cervical collar around Yandere’s neck. “It’s a miracle Yandere isn’t paralyzed, it’s a miracle he’s alive at all! So sorry for not pretending this wasn’t Wilford’s fault. I’ve told him a hundred times to be more careful with that gun.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilford murmurs, so quiet it’s hard to hear.

“That’s my line,” Dr. Iplier mutters, though most of the venom is gone from his voice as he focuses on Yandere.

Perhaps fortunately, Wilford doesn’t react. He’s still too shell-shocked to do much at all. Now his mind conjures memories of the dead body on the floor rising from the grave, getting back up and wandering to a mirror. The mirror cracked, and Wilford had, too. Not even in his nightmares has the image been as clear as it is now, watching Yandere get strapped to the backboard and a cervical collar get wrapped around his neck, hearing his voice. Yandere’s eyes land on Wilford, and he tries to smile reassuringly through his pain and blood loss. It makes Wilford move for the first time in minutes, but only to take a nervous step back. All he can see is a once-dead thing, moving with new, cursed life.

As if on cue, a burst of wind rushes through the studio as Darkiplier appears in the room with RJ beside him, who looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. And no wonder; Dark’s face is a picture of rage, but the screams and waving of his aura betray his inner fear. RJ must have ran into him while looking for Plus.

“What the hell happened to Yandere??” Dark growls.

“He got hit by a stray bullet while he was up in the catwalks,” Dr. Iplier explains, grabbing the backboard behind Yandere’s head as Plus does the same by his feet. “You’ve missed all the action, we’re just getting Yan to the clinic. He’s not paralyzed, luckily, and his time looks pretty decent for what he’s just been through.” He turns away from Dark to address Plus and Bim. “On three, Plus is lifting with me, and Bim, you’re following along and keeping the pressure on Yan’s wound. One, two, three–”

Plus follows effortlessly and Bim follows less so, but Yandere gets on the stretcher easily.

“Alright, Plus, you push Yan to the clinic, and I’ll take bullet wound duty from Bim,” Dr. Iplier says, stepping around the stretcher to stand in Bim’s place. Bim doesn’t need to be told twice, moving out of the way quickly. “He still needs x-rays and surgery,” Dr. Iplier tells Dark, “So you can’t have a moment with him yet.”

“Yami,” Yandere says, smiling faintly, seemingly too out of it to say much else.

“You’re alright, my love,” Dark murmurs to him, “I’ll see you soon.” He nods to Dr. Iplier, and he and Plus whisk Yandere away.

Left in the studio are Bim, the nervous Jim twins crowding around him, Dark staring after Yandere, and Wilford now staring at nothing. A moment later, Dark turns back to the others and sees the look on Wilford’s face. He sighs.

“How long has Wilford been like this?” he asks Bim.

“Since he realized he shot Yan by accident,” Bim answers, bracing for Dark to react badly.

Instead, Dark only sighs again. He understands immediately.

“You and the Jims go,” Dark says, waving them off, “I’ll deal with this.”

Bim is reluctant to leave Wilford in such a bad state, but he does, ushering the Jims out of the studio with him. Once they’re gone, Dark turns to Wilford, putting his hands on his shoulders. The touch makes Wilford jolt. He finally looks up at Dark, eyes churning with emotion.

“Is it my fault?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” Dark counters, though his voice is gentle. “What happened has happened, it can’t be changed.”

“It can’t be changed,” Wilford repeats.

“But this isn’t like last time,” Dark continues, “Yandere survived. He’s going to be fine.”

There’s a silence as Wilford contemplates this.

“It’s too much to ask for forgiveness,” he finally murmurs, “It’s hard to even remember all that I’ve done.”

“What happened to Yandere happened minutes ago,” Dark reminds him, “Your memory isn’t that bad yet, my friend.”

Wilford smiles a little. His eyes look a little clearer, there’s a little more color in his cheeks. But a part of him is still far away.

“If it was my fault or not, I still…” Wilford trails off, as though he isn’t sure what he’s trying to say.

“This was ignorance and bad luck,” Dark tells him, “This wasn’t malice. Intent does matter.” He lets his heretofore stern tone drop into something softer. “You know how much Yandere loves you; even if you had killed him he’d still find some way to forgive you.”

Wilford laughs, quiet and surprised but genuine all the same. The last of the cloud leaves his eyes and his expression.

“Right you are, my friend,” Wilford chuckles, his accent fully returned. He blinks, looks around. “Say, where’s Bim? We still have a script to go over!”

“He left,” Dark says, taking his hands away from Wilford’s shoulders, “I doubt he’ll be in the mood to edit a script after all the…excitement.”

“Well, he’ll just have to deal with it,” Wilford huffs, though his tone is good-natured as he brushes past Dark. “We have a deadline to meet, and we’re burning daylight! He can’t have gone far…”

Dark watches Wilford leave the studio. Once he’s gone, he allows himself some sadness, lets his aura shudder and scream like it’s wanted to the whole time. After a few moments, he gains control of himself again and teleports away to the clinic to wait for Yandere, leaving the studio empty.

[quillsareswords]

Smoke: VII | Stay Awhile

SUMMARY: After vanishing for four years, you return to the place you once called home, to the people you once called family. We all carry our baggage in different ways, using different techniques to hide it. You just happen to hide it in cigarette smoke.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: While the antique book shop on Fifth Avenue may have burned down long  before your return, the owner you never forgot is still making an  impact on your life, and she doesn’t even know it.

SERIES WARNINGS: cigarette smoking; underage drinking; gang activity; violence; swearing; blood; self-hate

MASTER LISTS in BIO

    The air is warmer now, than it was a few hours ago. Your windows are open, floors freshly swept, dishes freshly washed, bed freshly made. Outside is crisp and clean, and you've decided the inside should be too.

    Only a lamp illuminates the room, the setting sun does the rest, leaving the corners of the room bathed in comforting shadows.

   You’re in the middle of sorting out the good food in your refrigerator from the bad when he arrives.

   Three knocks exactly, no particular rhythm. You leave the decidedly shamefully rotted takeout in the trash and close the heavy white door before you answer the door. “Hey,” you greet fluidly, welcoming him inside without a second thought.

   “Hello,” he replies, stepping past you to escape the chill in your building’s halls, only to be sorely disappointed in your home. “Is your heating out?” he asks pointedly. You note his coat is buttoned, behind the stack of five books he holds in his arms.

   You stare blankly for a moment, before you shut and lock the door behind him. “No,” you answer slowly. “I thought it was pretty warm out, so I opened the windows. Are you cold?”

   He doesn’t answer verbally, just rolls his eyes. He makes his way to your ratty leather couch. “Anyway, I brought your books.” He sets the the stack of literature in the coffee table as he sits down.

   You nod. “Thanks. For driving all the way over, I mean.” You pick up an empty white mug from the end table by your recliner. “Can I get you anything? I can put the kettle on, if you want tea.”

   He declines, and watches you pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee. Then, you take your seat in the recliner.

   You pull the stack of books across the table, curiously skimming the titles on the spines. Griffin’s Castle, The Dragon Queen, Catcher in the Rye, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. An odd group of books, you think. At the top, you open the cover of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

   “Where were you today?” Damian barked from the bottom the tree. You peered down at him from your claimed branch, marking your page with a finger. He looked angry, messenger bag still slung across his torso, glaring up at you with his hands on his hips.

   You rolled your eyes and stubbed out a cigarette, flick it away so he doesn’t catch it. “Jesus, you sound like Nick,” you gruffed. “I’ve been here, mostly. What’s it to you?”

   He threw you an incredulous look. “You were supposed to cover for me in Lit, remember?”

   You heaved a heavy breath. “No, actually, I forgot.” The edge of annoyance to your voice is gone. “Sorry.”

   You heard him grumble something about you never listening, as he started climbing up to his branch, next to yours. He situated himself there, and hung his bag on the chopped stub above him. “So, what? You spent your whole day up in this tree?”

   “Yeah, pretty much.”

   “What are you reading?” He reached over and pushes your book one way, to read the cover. “The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland?”

   You nodded, rough bark of the tree scraping against your scalp and probably knotting your hair. “Yeah, Granny Crockett loaned it to me. She said it’s a crime that I haven’t read it already.”

    “Sorry about the dust. They’ve been sitting in a box in my closet for some time.”

   You gaze shoots up to meet his. “The dust-? Oh, yeah. It’s fine.” You brush off the thin gray film from the title.

   “Alfred sent this, as well,” he adds, pulling a piece of paper from the inner pocket in his jacket. “He thought you’d want it, for whatever reason. Found it when he was dusting, apparently.”

   You accept the thin paper and turn it over. It isn’t a piece of paper at all, actually. It’s a photograph, of you, and Damian, and Nick, all dressed up and ready for the Freshman Dance.

   You smile down at it, shaking your head at the bright purple, sequin speckled dress your past self wears. “I can’t believe you let me go out in that thing.”

   “I did no such thing,” he argues. “I told you the sequins were too much, but you wouldn’t listen. You never did, anyway.”

   You laughed. “I’m the one who doesn’t listen? Which one of us took Rebecca Tacks?”

  He shook his head. “You encouraged the whole ordeal. I would have much preferred to stay home and beat you at checkers until you flipped the board,” he countered, leaning back against the cracked leather.

   “I told you to get a date, not ask out the rudest person you could find!” you defended. “I told you the night would end in tears, now didn’t I?”

   “Maybe you were in tears, but I sure wasn’t,” he chuckled.

   “Only because you didn’t think the junior class president dumping green punch all over the pageant girl was as funny as I did!”

   You left it at that. A long moment stretched on, both of you lost in quiet laughter and memories of screaming teenage girls and a howling student body.

   You stare fondly at the photo still pinched between your fingers. You wonder what prom was like. You wonder who he took.

   “On second thought,” Damian says suddenly, retaking your attention, “I’d appreciate a cup of tea.”

   You blink. You don’t just hear the request, but the ask lying between the lines.

   Can I stay awhile?

   “Really?”

   He nods. “If it isn’t a problem.”

   You smile. “Of course it isn’t.”

   The corners of his lips tilt. “Do you have any-?”

   “Earl Gray,” you say confidently, practically jumping out of your chair, “two scoops of sugar and fresh lemon.”

   When you look back at him from across your kitchen island, he’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost.

   You grin teasingly. “Do you know how many times I had to make it for you when we were younger? It’s practically ingrained into my memory.” You turn away to get a mug down from the cabinet. You don’t dare mention the number of times you made an extra cup because the smell reminded you of home that first year you were gone.

   While you stand in the kitchen, your back to him, as you wait for the kettle to reheat, he steals the moment to look around your apartment. He hadn’t really gotten the chance last time.

   It isn’t a place he ever imagined you to live.

    It’s nothing like the place you dreamed about growing up. You always spoke of a big balcony, high ceilings. Big windows, but some that could be left open in the spring and the fall to flood the place with fresh air. You wanted large rooms, an open floor plan, and pictures of friends and family on every wall. You wanted a place that felt like home, with soft furniture and plenty of places for visitors to sit. Somewhere big, but not so big that it felt lonely when no one was there with you. Somewhere to go after a long day where you could relax. Somewhere warm, where your family would come to visit for the holidays, wasn’t so close to home that they’d visit too often.

   This is not that place. This place is dark, the wallpaper is peeling in patches, the ceiling is cracked in sport. It smells vaguely of must, beneath the air freshener. Your furniture, while sentimental, is old and warn and falling apart. There’s no room for entertainment, the ceilings are low, the windows are small, the kitchen is dingy. Worst of all, it doesn’t feel like a home.

   With a quick glance, yes, the place has a specific feel that he can only attribute to you, but upon further inspection, it tells an entirely different story. It reminds him more of a safehouse than a home. Somewhere Jason would store space weaponry in a neighboring city. He can count the number of personally decorations on one hand. The more he looks around, the deeper dread burrows beneath his skin. Anything sentimental could be cleared out and packed up in less than an hour.

   Your words from the cafe echo in his mind. When you said you were thinking about leaving, he didn’t think you meant at the drop of a hat.

   Thick glass hitting wood jerks him from his thoughts. Your warm smile is familiar in a way he can’t ignore.

   “It’s hot, so give it a minute,“ you warn. “I know my interior design skills aren’t the greatest, but I didn’t think it looked that bad, all things considered,” you try sparking a conversation, but you look a little nervous. You must have caught him staring.

   He shakes his head. “It looks fine.” He feels as though he’s about to choke on words he isn’t ready for you to hear, so he looks around in a tempered frenzy for something to divert your attention. A framed picture on the wall between your windows is just what he needs. “Who is that?”

   You don’t have to look at the picture to know which one it is. You’d debated on hanging that one. You smile sadly, eyeing it anyway. You swallow thickly, and to stall for a little time, you get up to get it.

   You take the flimsy wooden frame down, gently, as if your afraid it will break under your gaze. You hold out the 7x10 photograph to him.

   He takes it, gingerly staring it down while you find your seat again. It’s an image of you and a man, standing together in front of a grand fountain. His arm is hooked around your shoulders, both of you grinning happily. Something stirs in his chest- he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen you smile like that. The man his tall, dark skin, black hair, kind eyes. A tattoo is peeking out beneath the sleeve of a denim jacket.

   “His name was Kennedy,” you finally relay. “Kennedy Walter. I always called him Kenny.” You sniffle, and decide to stall a little longer. “I was living in Detroit when we met. I was working as a bouncer at a club. Had a nice little apartment with massive windows on one wall and a loft bedroom on the other. There was this nice little theater down the street from me. They had a theme for every night of the week, and sometimes they’d run these marathons of classics where you could buy one ticket and sit for the whole day.”

   You’re rambling, and he knows it. It’s something you used to do when you were upset: talk about the good things before the bad. He glaces at you. Your voice sounds strained. You’re staring at the coffee table, but he knows you aren’t really looking at the wood. “Were you and he . . ?”

   “Engaged,” you smile. “We were engaged. But, um, a little over a year ago, I was, uh- I got a call while I was at work.” Your voice breaks, eyes dropping to your lap. You pick up your tea and take a few gulps to relieve he tension of grief. “There had been a car accident.”

   He nods morosely, staring down at the man in the image. He must have been something, to have caught your eye. You barely dated through high school. “I’m sure he was a good man.”

   You nod. “He was. I had to leave all my furniture when I moved, because of him,” you laugh, and it doesn’t sound forced, but it’s dying. “I had this ugly orange couch, you see. God, it was such an ugly color. It was only thirty dollars at Goodwill, which is why I got it. It didn’t match anything else in the house, literally. But it grew on me, so I never replaced it. It was like that, um- what was it? That stupid stuffed cat I got from Amusement Mile, remember? On Spring Break?”

   He nods. You’d enlisted him to help you get it. It was quite possibly the ugliest toy he’d ever seen in his life, but it had a place on your bed for the following two years.

   “Yeah, it was like that. He always teased me about it, but after awhile it grew on him too. We named it Fungus, because it grew on people.” You laugh again, a little looser this time. “God that couch was hideous.”

   He smiles. It falters though, because he understands now that you weren’t just gone. You weren’t away from Gotham. All this time, you’d been building a new life. You’d been living, not running. But none of it had anything to do with him.

   “If you don’t mind,” he starts, quietly, “why did you leave Detroit? You talk about living there as if it were a fairy tale.”

   You take another gulp of tea. “Because that’s what it was,” you answer hoarsely. “It was too perfect. And then Kenny was gone. And my apartment was too big for me.” You stare down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. “And I missed home.”

   His chest feels tight. He doesn’t really know why. Or maybe it’s more than he isn’t willing to admit how much it hurts to see you so pained over this. He swallows it. “Home?”

   You nod hesitantly. “Gotham. I grew up here, ya know? You and I owned these streets back in the day,” you chuckle. You steal a look at his face, but he isn’t smiling. “I missed you. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

   When you look again, he looks somewhere between stricken and conflicted.  His face is pinched as he stared through your picture. “No. You didn’t.”

   “Well, I did. I missed you a lot. And your family. And mine. I didn’t want to leave you, Damian. You have to know that.”

   His body tenses, and you feel his energy shift. “No, I don’t. You left me in a burning building-”

   “I know,” you interrupt quietly. “And I shouldn’t have. I should have kept a better hold of your hand, I should have drove you home, I should have told you everything that night. I should have done a lot of things. But I didn’t, and I’m trying to apologize for them before I lose the chance.”

   That stops him. He relaxes into your couch again. “Before what?”

   You blink slowly, turning your gaze toward the window across from you, which connects to the fire escape. “There’s a reason I had to leave, Damian. Shit happens.”

   His eyes soften. His mind races, realizations dawning. He opens his mouth to reply, but the sharp beeping of his phone cuts him off.

   He answers it without moving from the couch. “Hello?”

   Your apartment is so quiet that you hear Bruce on the other end. “We have an emergency. We need you home. Now.”

   His eyes meet yours. He seems remorseful. “I’m on my way.”

   You divert your attention, excusing yourself to the kitchen with your half empty mug. You hear him pocket his phone and the remaining leather of your couch groan as he stands.

   “I’m sorry,” he says. “If I could-”

   “I know,” you assure. “Probably best anyway,” you brush off, “I'd probably be a blubbering mess of runny mascara and tears if we kept talking about this any longer.” You’re only partly joking.

   He looks at you for a few moments. Standing in your ratty apartment, between your living room and your front door, staring. His eyebrows are slouched together as he works his jaw.

   You turn around at the sound of approaching footsteps, but you’re just a hair too late. You collide with a broad chest, long, warm arms wrapping around you tightly. You’re overhwelmed by he wonderful smell of leathery cologne and bourbon shampoo. Your brain short circuits and crashes like a 2007 laptop trying to run The Sims.

   “I’m glad you’re home,” he says slowly, genuinely, surely.

   He’s gone before you can react. By the time you’re ready to hug him back, your front door is already clapping shut.

   With your apartment once again left in silence and you to your own devices, you brace yourself against the counter, mind whirling thoughts a million miles a minute and heart hammering so hard that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

TAGS: @howcanibreathewithnozaire @avis-writeshq @mello-10 @ukuleleatnight @chikorita-stuff @idkmanicantenglish

[psychemeanscure]

PART 19

He was right on relieving from consciousness, flashing the dark orbs of his eyes into its exact track. He was welcome, by the illuminating red lights of an empty four walls. Yet even between the repulsive hue he has seen, its emanating features can still awe someone in appreciation.

He starts turning his head side to side hoping to seek anyone who can possibly explain his dumbstruck situation. But no one other than its dark corner. Pure eerie silence for it starts to creeps him up. It feels like he was alone even if he sensed it. He was being watched. He tried remembering anything that had happened to him before he ends up the empty space, however nothing aside from blackout. Gulping an invisible lump in his throat, he takes the courage.

“Hello! Is anybody here? Hello!”

Then again, nothing. He wasn’t reciprocated thus he tried once again. “Hello! Anyone? Hello! Help! Help me please!” His bellowing plead already as he begins to move his body just to realize its certain numbness for he can’t assert further except slight thrashes. So he decides to give up that the only thing he could do was to look down by the cold pavement he was on.

When a droplet fell onto his head. Then another, with another so he starts cupping it then. Realizing what that is, panic came after him for it only takes him a second to lift his head up. Mr. Kim was terrified.

Helpless shriek echoed with terror. “What the f*ck.” As he forcefully pushes himself to dodge being under it. For the dripping blood onto his forehead now, was actually from a dead man tied up into upside-down. Parted lips full of gruesomeness, eyeballs were no longer apples but white. He was stuck in fear looking at it. Words left unspeakable.

Just before he finally heard the first sound he was searching all along. The portion which he failed to look into. A podium with three steps lit up with a leather single sofa set as the person behind the diligent rhythm of shoes comes into light.  

Jang Taeyoung arrogantly slumps onto his single couch, pulling out the sunglass he was wearing while his men came after the dark corners which the prosecutor thought empty. “Good to know you’re awake Mr. Kim, you almost got me boredom watching from my monitors you know.” Sighing, he spreads his arms with proudness. “Anyhow. Welcome to my humble abode.”                

His playground. The underground he was talking about, was actually a pretty leisure red room exclusive for bastards shamelessly prying against him. His execution space. But the prosecutor can’t attain to entertain any of it for he’s too concern of his own life. “Jang Taeyoung! What did you do to me, huh? Why is my body like this!”

“Tss. A simple lidocaine won’t kill you bulldog, such a puppy. What, you expect me to tie you instead? Such an old school.”

“F*ck you Jang Taeyoung. I’m going to kill yo--- f*ck!” he tried attacking by standing indeed just to remember his own situation bouncing back on the pavements, hearing the menacing chuckle from him instead. “Oh yeah? Are you sure about that, Mr. Prosecutor? How sad, you look helpless.”

“Is this about Ms. Sung? Jang Taeyoung I swear, I already told you everything I kn--- No! No, no no, Shit! A-argh!“

Before he could finish his sentence Jang Taeyoung already crossed the boundary between them as he easily struck a stiletto knife on its thigh as a continuous slapping of his palm is the only strength he could think of. “As much as I appreciate you remembering my lady. But everything? Then what the fuck your prosecutor general doing the day she was taken!”

His lashing words for he digs the knife deeper on its thigh, earning a growl as the heavy breaths of heaving pain erupts the poor prosecutor. “I was used too! The last time I interrogated you, I don’t have any idea our General Prosecutor is also working for Alcaziar. The next thing I know I was already dismissed from my service. I swear Jang Taeyoung, I’m broke!”

Looking by its appearance of simple shirt rather than its usual office style. For a moment it halts him that he had to gawk his assistant who is just meters away from him, waiting for a confirmation he needed. A simple nod was answered before he mercilessly dug out the dagger much more for another growl from the latter. Absorbing every detail that was given, it is his turn to nod in consideration then as he intentionally took out his gum to putting it through the wounded thigh of Mr. Kim. Unworried by the screeching result he did.

“Alright. Fine, fine. Seems like your excuse were convincing, quite a saving. Now talk.”

His stone cold command which only leads the prosecutor shudder in silence that instead of giving him answer a plead was uttered otherwise. “J-Jang, just please promise to spare my life aft--- Agh!!!”

He wasn’t able to endure his last words indeed as Jang Taeyoung scooping the gum he just covered, digging it in further on its thigh. “Can’t you see that I spare too much of my time on you assh*le that I have to do this single patch on you, so f*ck off and give the damn answer I needed before my patience will no longer get into you!” 

“Ahh!!!” Digging it much harder, the latter squirm. Lidocaine feels useless upon its repetitive screams. “F*ck! F*ck. Okay!” Punching his own hand on the floor, he surrendered. Thus Jang Taeyoung slips out his hand as well, setting to position himself by the bottom stair of the podium just behind him. Resting an arm on his bended knee as stroke the blood from the stiletto knife he’s holding like a savoring threat against the prosecutor.

“Now, what?” Sensing it with a sigh, he begins. “The involvement of our General prosecutor isn’t the end.”

Twitching a brow, it awakes his interest. “Cut the chase.” His mere impatience then before he’d been bestowed with another one. “The old hag had approached a former police commissioner who has a close contact with the current NIS chief which also was one of the connections of Ms. Sung.”

“Was?” his knowing question as Mr. Kim only cleared a throat. “You’re not surprised I guess you knew she does.” Of course! How can he forget his betrayed look the moment he saw her own access to it? For so he listens to its next word.

“Apparently, Ms. Sung isn’t aware of the close relationship between the two. Turns out this former commissioner has a bad history with her for she was also the reason why he got dismissed by his service. Waiting for the right agenda to counter, and it did.”

“It did, what?”

“The last time she seeks help from NIS of course. The moment she digs in with Xi industry which I presume she found me as well. The rest? I think you know what comes next.”

“They’ll going to file a lawsuit like she had it against their will, you saying?”

“Obstruction of authority, compliance for own benefit.” The latter tiredly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

The precise information from the latter, yes for he could only curse a lot. “F*ck this!” He expected it to go far but not this too much further. This is getting serious the way he actually foresees it. Looking back from standing this time, hands pose to both sides of his hips as he walks back and forth. He’s totally pissed, little not knowing that there is more than that as Mr. Kim speaks again.

“It’s still strange for me though.”

Frowning, he looks down to the latter. “What do you mean?”

“Her, learning about Alcaziar’s plan using Xi industry but still chose to clasp a hand. I do think she has more personal reason other than that. I’m not quite so sure but I think it has something to do with her foster parents. You see, following Veeros Alcaziar for a short time I heard one of his call concerning the Martins and it seem liked he knew her true identity. Like she had been set-up all along.”

Confound. That’s maybe the only thing he could describe for himself right now. He was left off guard at every information he received. The dismissed prosecutor knowing the Martin identity of Sung Eunyoung. The probability that the old hag had tried to use her foster parents as baits. The set-up that has being planned way too long than he projected. It all makes sense.          

“They are trying to ruin her. Shit!”

His fume while the dismissed prosecutor simply watching him sensibly. “The power of money that holds, what else. You didn’t expect the Alcaziars being a dimwit, do you?”

He had already enough yet after hearing another blabber from the latter’s mouth, he’s not so sure of his own identity anymore. ‘Alcaziars? So this isn’t just the work of one but two, huh?’ He thought. “That son of a b*tch.” Stroking his hair with madness, he explodes. “That’s it!” Murderous eyes turning to shoot the dead underling’s body as well as the pulley holding it, gushing blood spread all over its fall, he decided. “Wait, wait. No! this isn’t right. Jang Taeyoung, please!”

For fright has come into the dismissed prosecutor. He can feel it. Just by seeing the dark orbs of his sight, he’s in pit of losing his life. But it’s too late. They had awakened up a sleeping beast. Tossing the bloodstained stiletto on the podium, he glanced once again. “That is...”

“If you could kill me with that knife, I guess.”

With him walking out through the transparent curtain doors indeed, the resonating sound of bullets field his satisfaction.

Another scumbag has dump.

~

Going back to his penthouse now, he felt empty. He had kill two and all yet not enough. It’s been a day but he’s in the middle of finding her still for he felt useless not doing anything without thinking. He needed a better plan. He cannot just barge in knowing that this battle isn’t just as simple as it seems. There’s too many involved, he can’t be reckless.

Brushing a hand on his face while the other’s gripping his scotch drink, staring at nowhere. He stayed slouching like that. On the floor, leaning by the glass window of his living room, he chose to seek the darkness. He’s nervous for her.

When a sudden chime from his touch phone came in. Unregistered number pop-up into its lock screen. He was confused at first as if in an instant he became a corrupted workstation processing to reboot, until he snapped out. “Sung Eunyoung.”

The only name he can think of. Pressing it hastily, it was a pre-scheduled voice message. With a trembling hand, he listened after its beep. For there he was, hearing the voice he had longed already.    

“Hey there, Loco.”

For some reason, closing his eyes he saw her. His lady leaning by her parked car, a hand in coat pocket while the other’s talking to him by its phone, smiling. He savor the moment. Thus a snicker came after from the other line. “Have you been well?” And as if on cue they converse like it is the current. Groaning him, answered.

“What do you think, woman?”

“Tss. Fine. My bad.”

“You, stubborn volatile.”

Then another snicker was heard again. “I know. I’m sorry… You’ll forgive me, right?”

Looking up through the ceiling now while she’s looking down at his mind. He replied. “As if I can win over you, even.”

Seconds after, silence erupted and he waited. “You see I’m actually planning not to call you but I’m pretty sure by now you’re already had a headache because of me, so might just send you something beforehand. I hit the spot, aren’t I?”  

“You really did. Very much that I f*cking hate you right now.”

Squinting eyes, she speaks the obvious. “You’re cursing at me, I can tell.”    

The next thing he knew he’s chuckling like there aren’t problems waiting for them. He should be angry by her but this woman takes him turn so easily. “Jeez, woman. You and your cunning instincts. Can’t you spare me once even over the phone? You’re so unfair.”

He pictured her shaking a head, teasing him before giving in a delighted sigh. “Anyway! Guess where am at.” He anticipates.

Looking by the ocean, she continued. “Gyeonggi-do coastline.”

‘So she recorded this during her visit, I see.’ He thought. “The view’s breathtaking as always. You must see it sometime, you’ll going to love it.”

“Perhaps, have I ever told you that I have quite obsessions with coastlines? I didn’t, but now you know.”

For he can only react on dazed. “Are you surprised?”  

“I am.”

It was almost a whisper as if hiding his disappointment for not knowing a simple hobby she does, but after sensing the smiling coyness of her, he’s happy. “Glad, you are.” She replied as another silence calls once again. It takes her long this time for he could only hear the waves of the ocean and her calming breath. She’s thinking.

“Jang?”

With a deep sigh, he retorted. “Hm?”

“Mexico.”

It left him confused. Fortunately, not long before he heard her next words. “Well, I just want to remind you about my favorite coastline.”  

And for the nth time silence came back once again. He sensed. It isn’t still the end of her soliloquy. ‘And?’ as if his intuitive opt to her. He felt her embarrassment.

“If… If things might not be rough in time.”    

“How about a ride together, what do you think?”

Relieve when he senses her composing herself for a better idea. “No, let me rephrase it.”  Chin up, feeling the breeze of her air, she speaks.

“Let’s just put each other’s smile the next time we meet, alright?”

It was a statement, and the voice has ended.

And like a crazy man laughing like a worthless cub, he cried.

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 20)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Janus, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Janus, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 My Master Post

Janus was being very sulky. Spraying Remus in the face with a little bit of juice was one thing, but pouring the entire juice pouch into his lap, that was another. Clearly Janus was very unhappy with the state of affairs. Remus was glad Roman had interpreted the shoulder bob Remus had given him while getting into the car correctly and had helped Remus pin Janus in the middle. Remus… honestly wouldn’t put it past Janus to try to jump out of the car when it was moving at this point. He was clearly very strung out and in one of his bad headspaces.

The first time Remus had seen him in this bad of a headspace had been after a week “vacation” (He still refused to explain the quotation marks to this day even though Remus now knew who his mother was and what she did.) with his mother and had legitimately planned an assassination of their shared calculus professor thinking she was plotting against him. At the time Remus had thought that had mostly been a joke. Having gotten to know Janus since… it was a good thing Dr. Hawkins had decided to give them a break on the homework for that week.

Remus had no idea where the man’s mind had gone, but he was pretty sure distracting him as soon as possible was the best move. So, Remus did the only think he could think of in that moment to possibly shock his best friend out of spiraling into a pit of cynicism. He leaned forward and grabbed another Capri Sun (this time Strawberry Kiwi instead of Tropical Punch) out of the cooler. He stabbed the straw through the hole and then turned to Janus. “Want another one?” Remus asked. Janus blinked at him stone faced, but then held out his hand. He took the straw out immediately after Remus handed it to him and didn’t hesitate to pour that entire pouch onto Remus’s lap as well.

Remus nodded seriously as though Janus had just made a good point in an argument. He leaned forward and grabbed another one. “Does,” he said glancing at the label on the pouch as he stuck the straw into it, “a Wild Cherry one catch your fancy?” He handed it over to Janus and once again got the entire package squirted into his lap. “Fair enough,” he said mildly, reaching into the cooler once again. “How about a Grape one?”

They went through a Pacific Cooler, a Surfer Cooler, and an Orange one before, finally, Remus pulled out a Fruit Punch one. Instead of immediately tearing out the straw and dumping it on Remus, Janus hesitated at that one. After a moment, he turned away from Remus to stare foward and brought the straw to his lips. Roman was shooting them a bewildered look, but Remus just winked at him. Janus made short work of the juice pouch and then extended a hand to drop the empty container into Remus’s lap.

Remus gave it a moment and then leaned over slightly to bump shoulders with him. He paused for a second and then bumped him again.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Janus mumbled. Remus paid him no mind and bumped their shoulders together for the third time.

“Come on Jay,” Remus said.

“No.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at him and then slammed into him even harder sending him into Roman who yelped in surprise.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you cretin?!” Janus spat, slapping Remus away.

“Oh, so many things,” Remus said. He heard Roman give a soft puff of amusement. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Well I’m stuck in a car with you, asshole,” Janus snapped.

Remus tilted his head. “No,” he said. “What’s really wrong?”

He scoffed. “What’s not, Remus! My brother’s missing. My da…ad of my brother is dead! My mother is trying to murder me in cold blood. And you claimed to be my best friend earlier, but now you are unflinchingly on board with turning me over to your father who is more than likely going to throw me into a prison cell the moment he sees me.”

“Okay,” Remus said. “First things first, dad is not going to throw you into a prison cell when we show up.”

“Oh really?” Janus asked. “And why wouldn’t he.”

“He likes you Jay.”

“Even if that’s true, he clearly doesn’t trust me.”

“If he didn’t trust you, he wouldn’t let you be a double agent for him,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m not a double agent because he trusts me,” Janus argued. “I’m a double agent because I’m Barbara Nelson’s son. I was a calculated risk at best and now I’m too much of a risk even if I was still useful.”

“Dad’s not like that.”

“Maybe not to you,” Janus grumbled.

“Why do you think he doesn’t trust you?”

“Well it’s pretty obvious when he sends another agent to go pick up my brother and meanwhile tries to send me on a different mission as a distraction to get me out of the way. Clearly, he doesn’t trust me to not deliver Virgil to my mother. Why else would he do that?”

“Jay, did you consider that he knows you?” Remus asked. Janus raised an eyebrow. “Dude, just last week you were drunk texting me and dad pictures of you and your brother from your childhood, many of which included Virgil’s father. He may have jumped to the conclusion that you’d be upset about Remy Gates’ death and that you’d act irrationally because of those feelings.”

Janus scoffed. “Irrational?” he asked. “What did he expect me to do?”

“Oh,” Remus said. “I don’t know. Perhaps something like bash in some guys skull against a water fountain in a public park, blow your cover with your mom, explode a car, smash a bunch of phones, get into a car chase and shoot out with your mom’s men that ultimately ended up with you in a lake, poor juice all over me, and spiral into a pit of thinking that everyone in your life is out to get you.”

If looks could kill, well, Remus would have already been dead long ago, but he would have been especially dead right then. However, as it stood, Remus was decidedly not dead. He shot a toothy smile at Janus who glared even more intensely. “All of those things were perfectly rational,” Janus insisted, “and even if I were emotional, that is because my brother is missing which your father did not know about until after he sent Roman. It has nothing to do with the boy’s father.”

“You are worryingly good at hiding your emotions from yourself,” Remus said. “I think you actually believe that. Wonder what you’ll do when we find Virgil and those feelings are still not gone.”

“You and your father can both screw off,” he ground out. Yet, his tone was still somehow milder than it had been before they’d started to talk through his idea that dad 100% inarguably hated him. So, that was progress.

Remus bumped their shoulders again. “Plus,” he said. “If dad did decide to throw you in a prison cell, I’d totally break you out of it, and we’d go on the run. Our future cat has to have a daddy after all!”

“I don’t even like cats,” Janus said.

“Sure Jan.”

“I’m going to pour more juice on you.”

“Kinky.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“It’s his default catch phrase,” Roman offered. “Try spinning him around and bonking him on the head three times. That usually resets him.”

“Bet I could do it in one if I hit him hard enough,” Janus said.

“I’d say no blood in my car,” Lena pipped in from the front seat, “but it’s far too late for that.”

“Hmm,” Remus said. “What’s worse on car seats? Nose blood, Capri Sun, or lake water?”

“We’ll fine out when it dries,” Janus said.

“I’m charging the agency for a new car,” Lena grumbled.

“Same,” said Roman.

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Part 21 Part 22