#which is partly why he endeavors to always have a scowl on his face

[husband-steve-cortez]

Ough he looks so good he's so baby boy coded. He would shoot me if I ever said that to him.

[ruffsraven]

Dark Mark | D.M.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!reader

Summary: You thought that receiving the Dark Mark and doing the Dark Lord’s bidding alone would be the worst that can happen. However, when help came, you found yourself refusing.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I’m not confident to post this story but I’ll be more than glad if you somehow like it. This isn’t much but I’m still practicing,

It wasn't your fault that you have Death Eaters as parents. That mere fact has been a torment to you since you step foot in Hogwarts. In your juvenile years, you thought that the prejudice you receive from being a Slytherin was the worst thing that can happen to you at Hogwarts. Years of forbearance had passed by until all the baleful remarks normalized. Little did you know that it wasn't the end of your agony.

The first weeks of your fourth year were the best of days you knew. Those were the blossoming days where you started distinguishing forms of affection that you barely received from your parents. 

After all, you had Draco. You generally acknowledged that he wasn't the best man in the world to build an affinity with. But despite his cold and prideful nature, he held you together when you felt every inch of you falling apart. He was your friend, not because your parents are former Death Eaters. He cared for you and you knew.

"Y/N?" There was a knock.

You don't know why you suddenly lost it and his voice just reminded you that crying will do nothing to save Cedric Diggory from his untimely death. You expected another knock but your peripheral vision just caught the lock of the broomstick closet loosening. 

Draco barged in, slamming the door behind him, making it darker once more. He doffed something across the small room and approached your hunkered figure in the corner. 

He shook your shoulders lightly and said, "Y/N, why on earth are you crying? As far as I'm concerned, Diggory was not much of an importance to you." Your shoulders trembled beneath his hand from forceful restraint. 

He softened and scooted closer so that he could secure your shivering figure around his arms.

"Tell me," he whispered, blotting your damp cheeks with his fingers. "It's not entirely about Diggory, isn't it?"

"H-He's back." 

There was a short pause and then, "You know that Potter could be lying." You searched for his eyes in the darkness. "Draco, are you thoroughly blinded by your anger to neglect how traumatized Potter looked like?" "So you believe him?"

You clutched his collar in both hands and hissed, "Draco, our parents...t-they could go back to him. Serve him again..."

He gently removed your hands off him and said, "You shouldn't be bothered. They'll not involve us in their affairs." And he was awfully wrong.

The upcoming year hadn't alleviated the anxiousness that shuddered your insides since Cedric died. Dolores Umbridge's reign was not in favor of you either. It displeased Draco that you refused to join the Inquisitorial Squad. But somehow, you constructed a not-too-pathetic lie that you sucked at handling prefect jobs. 

Draco was ecstatic to receive credits for having authority over the Gryffindors. The year went on like the usual but an inconceivable fear started to encumber your heart in a way you can't handle. You knew for a fact that something ominous would happen.

By the end of the year, you went home bearing profound hatred and trepidation. Voldemort had truly returned and The Daily Prophet couldn't tell a tale otherwise anymore. 

You keep yourself shut in your room all summer, constantly exchanging letters with Draco. By and by, you noticed minor changes in the way he writes and how frequently he does. You'd most likely get a letter or two for a week, all of them short as if hastened. But it didn't stop you from sending lengthy letters all at once, continuously asking for his condition. But all of his letters, as you analyzed each, contain one general message: "Be careful always."

It was one month away from returning to Hogwarts when a mishap happened in your life. 

Night was creeping up the sky when your parents sat across from you in your living room. Their gaze met as if in anticipation in which to speak first but your mother immediately broke the silence and asked you to visit Diagon Alley with them. You hesitated but eventually agreed. After all, you had no choice but to obey. 

To your surprise, they stay beside you and even let you visit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. You had always admired the inventive products of the Weasleys but always too ashamed to tell them so. You walked out of the store with a few handfuls, partly because your parents insisted on buying everything you like. It was all too perfect and you couldn't wish for anything else. 

It never crossed your mind that you'll reach home imprinted with a Dark Mark. Your parents held you and together you Apparated back home. You tore away from them, almost stumbling in your own feet, and burst outside the house. You wanted to run away. Anywhere away from them. You cried in disbelief, anguish brimming between your disappointment and love for your parents. You scorned the bad reputation entitled in your name but never did it cross your mind to loathe them nor defy them. But things got worse and you were getting involved in a dispute you shouldn't partake of.

Since your childhood, your little tree house has been home to you but in these dark phases of your life, it became a haven that protected you from any further danger. Indeed, the evil mark across your forearm aches occasionally, like the serpent protruding from the skull's mouth had the intention to slither out of your skin. 

As you wept under a bundle of quilt, your trembling body begged for warmth more than a quilt or a fireplace could give. In no time, you found yourself scribbling a letter that you addressed to Draco.

***

Returning to Hogwarts has never been as dejecting as it did this year. You unpacked your luggage with exhaustion and the Great Hall ceremony were suddenly deflating and despondent. 

It was midnight and your new homeworks were put away on your table. You tossed and turned as you strived to grasp sleep but nothing came but the behest spoken to you in that dreadful night in Borgin and Burkes.

"Y/L/N, my recent endeavor in the Ministry of Magic has been spoiled by foolish negligence." You kept your head lowered as the Dark Lord spoke. You winced at the discomfort your new mark penetrated, all you could do was cradle it with your other arm with utter caution. "Child, scraps of tales reached me that your intelligence was remarkable and I'm rather glad to have you in my circle. Do not disappoint me. The punishment can be worse than you think."

Your vision caught the sight of your mother as she restrained the urge to crouch down and enveloped you in her arms. You know they loved you, but cowardice prevailed over them for letting their daughter in a perilous disposition. The Dark Lord walked past you and addressed you in a more commanding tone, "I expect much from you than your parents, Y/L/N. You had the advantage. Clever. Near the boy." You processed his last words. And your eyes widened in sudden realization in what undertaking your fate rested upon.

"Y/N? What's the matter?" 

A light stroke in your hair snapped you out of your musings. And there kneeling beside your bed was Draco with a worried expression in his face. 

You rose from the pillow, wiped your face in haste as if to cover up the unrestricted tears that dampen your cheeks.

"What are you doing here? It's late. Go to bed."

Draco sat in the foot of your bed and said, "You haven't written anything for me for the past week. I'm just wondering if everything's fine."

No. No, Draco. It wasn't, you gulped down the thought and let it die in your throat for good measure. 

"Fine. Everything's good," you lied. "Just a bit occupied lately."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Nothing. Just remembered something."

"Care to share?" 

"No. It wouldn't interest you," you forced a laugh and almost succeeded. He paused for a moment, perusing if you're being truthful. 

"Alright," he said finally though he doesn't feel half-convinced. "You're a terrible liar but whatever that memory is, I hope it won't last long. Crying just doesn't fit you."

He stood up and wrapped you in his arms, giving you a light squeeze. You hugged him back, trying not to fall apart then and there. His scent somehow reminded you that people are also homes.

***

Potions class with the Gryffindors was the last thing you wanted in this time of day. The small vial in your fist shook as you entered and arranged your table with cauldrons and ingredients. 

"What's in your hand?" 

The familiar voice deepened your frustration but you managed to respond: "None of your business, Potter."

It silenced him but Ron scowled, "Don't need to be rude, Y/L/N. He's only asking."

Someone emerged beside you, dropping his cauldron with deliberate hostility. "No need to poke your nose in as well, Weasley. No one to bother, are you? Why not go to your Mudblood?

Ron almost quivered with fury that Harry had to practically drag him away until they reached the table farthest from you.

"Draco," you said, pocketing the vial not to arouse suspicions. "You promised me not to say that word again."

"If that's the only way to fend that Weasley off, why not? In this instance, I obviously have too."

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N, not to be blunt or anything, but lately you look weak and frail with no capability of defending yourself."

"I can defend myself," you answered indignantly. "I just don't see the point of arguing with them."

Draco sighed, mixing something in his cauldron. "If you said so."

***

"I know what you're up to, Y/L/N."

Harry followed you in the secluded hallway heading to the seventh floor, knowing that Draco wasn't around to send him away. 

"Leave me alone, Potter!" you shouted, quickening your pace. "You're a loon. You and your friends." 

It became your cue to pull out your wand without any afterthought. His accelerating footfalls alarmed you and your second move fought against your better judgement.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

You heard the thud as his rigid body fell in the ground, you looked around once more, watchful for any hidden witness that might have seen your misconduct. You raced to the seventh floor, still half-guilty for hexing Potter. You almost reached the Room of Requirements when a faint rustling approached you from behind.

"Everte Statum!"

In no time you were swept off your feet, sharp pain coursing through you as you flew backwards, immediately hitting the wall with your shoulder.

You saw Ron tossed the Invisibility Cloak aside, his wand pointed at you. Your only hope of escape was the door, no bigger than a broomstick closet, beside you. But half of your body felt sore like the effect of the spell worsened at each passing second. Potter scurried behind Ron, still shaking away the temporary rigidness of his arm.

He had an adverse expression in his face unlike what he did before. For a moment, you realized that he meant no harm against you but casting a hex on him pulled his last straw.

He appeared hesitant for a moment, seeing that you're hopeless and defeated. And neither of your senses wanted to take action as if giving your fate to the circumstances.

All of a sudden, a loud rattle of a door thundered beside you and your vision caught Draco appeared from behind. Seeing Harry and Ron pointing their wands at you increased his malevolent anticipation. Then: "Crucio!"

Harry and Ron dodged away, splitting on either side. Harry raised his wand and shouted, "Sectumsem—"

"Expelliarmus!" you cried out, finding the last shreds of your strength. Draco took advantage of their incapability and lifted you from the ground. He pulled you to the Room of Requirements, thwarting another hex from the outside as he slammed the door. The door clicked and locked by itself. An eyehole materialized on its surface, allowing Draco to peer through.

"They went away."

One of his arms was circled around your waist as you leaned against his body for stability. He withdrew from the door, placing both of his arms around you. It lasted for a minute, enough for you to look around and observed the rubbles of abandoned items stack around you. For a second, the room felt narrow and confined. 

He finally let you go, helping you sit in a nearby chair. 

"I saw your letter, the one hidden in your trunk," said he, kneeling in front of you. His features softened and less hostile than you saw him before. And being the one causing them gave you a sense of warmth. "It was addressed in my name so I obliged." 

He strived to search for your eyes, expecting that you'd tell him the truth yourself. He didn't wait for much longer before rolling the sleeve of your left arm. It was no use to stop him.

His face darkened, his expression became more manlier than boyish as if maturity was wedging itself in him.

In a low, calm voice, he whispered, "Do you trust me?"

His inquiry was irrelevant but you answered, "I always have."

"Good." He stood up and approached a wooden furniture across the room. Its door swinged from its hinges revealing darkness from the inside. You recognized at once that it was the Vanishing Cabinet. He pocketed one of his hands and ran his finger over the cabinet's facade with the other. 

"Let me take over the responsibility."

"What?" Your response was immediate as if his statement was incoherent.

"I've got the Mark as well," he said, turning to face you.

"No," you shook your head, wishing that you were right "No. You don't. Please no..."

Draco noticed the weakness in your voice like nothing was left of you to fall apart. Your parents. Your innocence. And Draco.

You force to keep it all together but seeing Draco roll his sleeve, half-hesitant as if ashamed. The Dark Mark printed over his pale skin like an ugly, blackened scar.

"Now—don't mind me, okay? I'll ask him—the Dark Lord—I could take over your job. I'll be fine."

"I'll help," you insisted, walking over to him. "It's not a burden for you to carry. It's mine. If you insist, just let me help."

"No."

"What? Draco—"

"I said NO," he fixed something by the Vanishing Cabinet, turning his back against you. "I don't want your help."

"I can help," you reasoned. "By all means, I know a fair amount of spells and schemes to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes. Draco, I know you want the glory but you can't do this alone."

"The glory!" he faced you, hurt and rage interweaving in his eyes. "I was merely trying to protect you as much as I can. Bold of you to assume I want all the admiration!"

"It's not your job to protect me..." you said quietly.

"It felt like it is." His eyes bore through you, his eyes suddenly gleamed with tears, you supposed. Then he looked away. "I know what the Dark Lord is capable of. He wouldn't think twice to kill. And I'd be lying to myself if I chose to save my own neck over yours."

"Oh Draco." It was enough for you to throw your hands around his middle, pulling him close so his head could nestle in your neck. You felt hot tears streamed down your skin as he whimpered. His hands wandered in your back, finally resting in the curve of your hips. You felt him lean on your touch and it hit you like a forceful jab in the chest

"I know it's stupid. I tried rubbing them off—its stupid, but I don't want it. I had no choice." His voice was uncontrolled and rather hopeless, all the pain he suppressed burst as tears. 

You just held him. No words can soothe away the pain you both shared. You stroke his hair, shutting your eyes close as you felt his body quiver from too much crying.

"Draco, just let me help. Please," you said hopefully. 

He gently pulled away, clasping his hands over yours. A smile pulled in his lips as he gazed down at your hands, how perfectly they fit like your hands were made for him.

"I know you can stand for yourself. But leave this to me. Okay?"

You sighed in defeat, squeezing his hand for reassurance. He squeezed back. You fished something out of your pocket. The vial. 

You held his wrist, opening his palms. "Keep this. That's the least I can do." He eyed the potion before asking what it was.

"Liquid Luck," you answered. "Nicked it from Potions class. As much as I hate the Dark Lord's plan...I want you to be safe," your voice settled in your throat for a moment and then: "It wasn't much but I hope it helps."

"Thanks." He pocketed it inside his suit.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Mind if I stayed with you tonight? It's just—our dorm, it was lonely out there without a company," you admitted. 

"I'd love to."

However, it escaped you the sparkle in his eyes, knowing that this night—perhaps the rest—won't be as miserable as they did before.

***

Masterlist

[anathtsurugi]

Day 15 - One More Day ;)

So, my dear @jellysharkbat, I’d at first thought to present you with a scene from the new chapter of TCTW, but the scene I had in mind was a little too dialogue heavy, even if it was in the same vein. So you’ll get more of that when the chapter comes out. But hopefully this is enough in line with what you were feeling.

Snow, as far as Alexsandr Kallus was concerned, could go get kriffed.

Granted, it was in the middle of a snow storm he'd first begun to see the love of his life and he would be eternally grateful for that, but it was likely the only thing he ever would grant to snow. Anything other than that one instance was evil incarnate. And that was saying something coming from a man who'd once worked at the very heart of the Galactic Empire.

The day had begun like any other at Echo Base. The techs still couldn't seem to adapt their speeders to Hoth's extreme cold, so patrols were still being carried out on tauntauns. Really, a lot of their tech was having trouble on this world. Even his own double-layer thermal gear was barely managing to keep out the cold. The persistent subzero temperatures had been creeping in on him all week and the conditions had been making his bad leg crankier than usual which, in turn, made him even crankier than his typical  uptight self, and he knew it showed.

Say what you will about Yavin IV. At least heat is manageable.

Draven had been on his case about the new supply line he'd been endeavoring to open up from an old Imperial contact who was just about fed up with Coruscant's precious New Order. It was a delicate process, though, so he was rather starting to wish the general would just take his less than subtle grumbling elsewhere. More than petty matters with Davitz Draven, there was also the fact that Cassian hadn't yet reported in from his latest assignment and Jyn and Bodhi were visibly beginning to worry, asking him if he'd heard anything. And he could understand their worry. Of course he could, but having to let down Cassian's odd little family every time one of them asked after the young Fulcrum agent was also beginning to wear on him. Today it seemed it was Bodhi's turn to receive the bad news as they passed through one of the supply corridors that connected the hangar bays with the storage areas.

"And there's really no emergency channels you might use?" the pilot pressed him as they walked.

"Believe me, Rook, I've tried all of them. At this point, it's up to Cassian himself," he responded with an exasperated sigh. "I promise you, I worry just as much as the rest of you. Cassian is my friend, too. But he wouldn't be a Fulcrum agent if he couldn't handle situations like this one. We just- have to trust him."

And as always, whenever he had to disappoint Bodhi Rook, Kallus felt as though he'd kicked the proverbial puppy at the silently despairing look in his fellow defector's large brown eyes. One just couldn't disappoint Bodhi Rook and walk away unscathed. It wasn't physically possible. And on top of that, his leg was really starting to twinge, causing him to bite down on a wince.

The day was barely half over and already he would've been quite happy to have done with it.

What else can go wrong?

He regretted thinking it almost the minute the poisonous thought had slithered through his brain. No situation is ever so bad it can't be kriffed up even further; and that fact was proven almost immediately by an ominous-sounding crack from overhead.

"What the-" Bodhi's voice started as they both looked overhead, but Kallus spotted the problem right away. A crack had indeed appeared in the ceiling over their heads, and already it was splintering and spidering outward from its initial break.

Kallus didn't stop to ask questions. The moment chunks of ice began to tumble into the corridor, he seized Bodhi's shoulder and threw them both free of the collapse.

The ex-Imperial felt his leg shriek in agony as they hit the permafrost floor of the tunnel, chips of broken ice flying overhead as a full section of the ceiling came down. Once debris had ceased spilling into the corridor, he began to hear voices from the next level up.

"Stars, what the kriff-"

"What happened?"

"What's-"

"Is everyone all right down there?"

Forcing himself up onto his knees through the pain, Kallus looked up, calling back. "We're fine! Just the two of us down below. Anyone above injured?"

"No," came the mostly even voice of General Rieekan in response. Oh, kriff. The command center.

"Though it might not be long before you're not all right," the just as distinct voice of Draven followed only a moment after. Within seconds, the head of Rebel Intelligence's pinched face appeared over the  edge of the hole in the ceiling. "Why is it I always seem to find an ex-Imperial around whenever something goes wrong?"

Kallus full-on glowered up at the man overhead. Partly to hide his own grimace of pain, but also because he really was just that pissed at this point.

"Yes, because obviously we plan for these things to happen," he snapped.

"I would be remiss in putting it past you. Fully trained ISB operative that your are, Agent ISB-021," the man taunted in a pointed voice.

That did it.

The frustration and physical pain that had been chipping away at his composure all week broke through his strict mental control. If he'd had his bo-rifle on him, he might've actually drawn it.

"Kriffing arrogant nerfherder!" he snarled up at the general. "If you think for one second I would ever endanger anyone in this base, then you've-"

"Kallus," Rieekan's now stern voice interrupted his imminent tirade as he joined Draven at the edge of the collapsed section. "I think it might be better if you took a walk. I know you said you weren't hurt, but you and Rook should probably take extra rest shifts, just to be certain."

"General, I-"

Whatever he might've said was quickly silenced by the Alderaanian's firm gaze. He scowled before going to help Bodhi up. Though he couldn't deny being the tiniest bit pleased to catch the tail end of Rieekan's next order.

"You and I will be having words later, Davitz. You can't keep going on like this."

"Th- thank you," Bodhi stuttered out. "You definitely saved my neck back there."

"No trouble," Kallus returned, though he didn't look at the younger man, as he knew he couldn't manage a smile just then. "I'm quite certain it would be more than just Draven angry with me if I allowed harm to come to you. About half the Alliance, likely...not to mention Cassian and Skywalker," he said before starting to head in the direction of his quarters, leaning heavily against the wall as he moved.

"Do you maybe need help?" Bodhi called after him.

"No," he ground out, even though he knew he was limping. He was on trajectory now and couldn't stop. If he did, his anger would dissipate and that, in turn, would allow the pain he was currently keeping at bay to overwhelm him. He kept his eyes forward and his teeth gritted the whole way back to his and Zeb's quarters.

He barely managed to make it to the bed before collapsing, body now racked with pain and mind swirling with frustration, anger, and more than a little guilt.

Agent ISB-021...

Most of the Alliance no longer held his past against him, but Draven was one who couldn't seem to let it go. He never missed an opportunity to remind Kallus of who he had been...of what he had done...

You are not that person anymore.

Maybe not...but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

He had no idea how long he lay there, stewing in all that ugliness, before he heard the door to their quarters slide open. He looked over to see Zeb standing in the entryway.

"Rook told me what happened," he said without preamble as he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. "You okay?"

"As can be expected," he answered, though he couldn't quite keep back the tiny whimper of pain as he dragged himself into a sitting position. "Just the leg."

"You take anything?"

Kallus shook his head, rubbing faintly at his leg. "No. I wouldn't want to waste it. This will pass."

Zeb exhaled in frustration, and though Kallus wasn't looking at him, he could easily picture the way he would roll his luminous eyes. Before long, though, he found a slender thermal container thrust before his face.

"What...what's this?" he asked as he took the container.

"Little something Hera and I put together this morning from the Ghost's stores. Some of that spiced tea you loved so much. I was makin' it for you anyway, since the cold's been seepin' in on you all week, but now seemed like a good time to bring it to you."

Wordlessly, Kallus twisted the vessel open, inhaling the divine scent of the black tea in mild disbelief. It was no small thing...to be able to make something like this with the limited supplies they had. He may have moaned a little as he took the first sip of the warm, frothy drink.

They didn't speak after that. After all, Kallus was reasonably certain Zeb would've got the whole story from Bodhi. The Lasat sat down beside him on the small bed, large, skilled fingers beginning to work at the improperly healed joint, soothing away some of the ever-present stiffness and pain and bringing the hurts from the day's misadventures down from an insistent snarl to a dull ache. More than the massage, it was really just nice to have Zeb's sure, strong hands on him.

Not wanting to drink all of the tea right away, he sealed the thermal up when it was about half-empty and set it aside. Then Zeb drew him into a kiss, a slow, luxuriating press of lips that didn't presage anything further, simply connected the pair of them in that moment.

I'm here. I'm here for you. People can be as stupid as they like, but they can't take this away from us. I'll always be right here.

The kiss turned into a cuddle without much effort on their part. Almost before Kallus was aware of it, they were curled up together on their little bed, Zeb cradling him easily against the broad plane of his chest. Alex curled up tightly against him, languishing in the feel of his lover's arms around him, warm and strong, safe and caring. So much he had never expected to have in his life – never expected to be worthy of – all vested within one amazing person.

They would have to return to their tasks eventually. There was always more work to be done. But for now, just for now, they would accept the quiet gift of simply being with one another. When it came right down to it, that gift was all they really had in the face of a vicious galaxy.

But it was also all they needed.

[thursdays-fallen-angel]

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” For spn ship of your choice.

ghost hunting!au, hs!au, est.; 2.5k

(this turned out to be so much longer than I expected but?? oh my god??? thank you for prompting me to write this??!)

A single beam of moonlight falls across the broken wood floor, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Elsewhere in the house, some part of the foundation cracks and settles, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a small animal scurrying through the walls.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Cas hisses over his shoulder. He’s been in a constant state of disbelief since he was talked into it, and yet, here they are.

Creeping through an actual haunted house. In the middle of the night.

Hunting for ghosts.

Behind him, Dean laughs. It’s almost too loud in the otherwise-silent house, and Cas turns to glare at him, squinting against the light of Dean’s flashlight.

“Can you be quiet?”

Dean keeps his flashlight raised as he comes closer—a necessity for the camcorder he has in his other hand—but when he’s near enough, his face becomes visible beyond it. Unsurprisingly, he looks like he’s having the time of his life.

“Come on, Cas, we have to let the ghosts know we’re here!” He shifts his grip on his camera, but doesn’t once uncenter it from Cas’ scowl. “If we don’t bother them at least a little bit, why would they bother showing up? We’re doing this in the name of science, and that means we can’t hold back.”

“Now you’re talking out of your ass and you know it,” Cas says, which only results in pulling another laugh from his boyfriend. He turns back away (partly to hide the fact that his lips are twitching toward a smile) and shines his own flashlight through the gloom of the condemned house. They had entered across the back porch—a risky endeavor, considering the wood that makes it up is rotted almost beyond recognition, but since the front door is chained closed, the back door was their best option—which means they are now in the cramped remains of a sitting room. The ceiling is low and sagging, the walls are covered in graffiti and god knows what else, and across from them is an opening to another room filled with impenetrable darkness.

Cas hates it.

Damn Dean for convincing him to do this.

No matter how terrible the house is, however, knowing that he is on camera gives Cas an illusion of courage he wouldn’t have otherwise. So long as this is being recorded, he refuses to look like a coward.

He’ll still bitch, though, of course. He thinks he’s earned that right.

He shuffles forward across the uneven floor, careful not to put his weight on any one spot too quickly. Supposedly, the house has an unfinished basement where most of its horrors have been known to take place—and he is far from eager to see it. And judging by the splintered hole in the far back corner of the room, Cas suspects it’s far too easy to accidentally get there.

Dean follows on his heels, following Cas’ path exactly as it is slowly proven to be sturdy enough to support them. It seems like no time at all before they’ve reached the next room. It’s far larger than the first room, which is reflective of the size of the house (it’s practically a mansion), but also more than a little terrifying, considering the beam of Cas’ flashlight doesn’t reach the far wall.

Dean turns his camera into the never-ending darkness and lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn. That looks fun. You ready, babe?”

Cas takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. “I hate you so much,” is all he says, and then he starts to walk.

Dean says smugly, narrating for the camera, “He loves me.”

Cas raises his free hand up to be level with his head and flips Dean off.

As they pick their way across the room, the darkness doesn’t become any easier to see through. Cas tries to make their path as straight as possible to the other side, but there turns out to be too much broken furniture and other assorted debris for that to be realistic. They go extra slow to compensate, Cas quietly pointing out dead animal carcasses and used syringes and needles as he steps around them.

At what Cas suspects is the halfway point across the expansive space, Dean clears his throat. “So, Cas. Ghost hunter extraordinaire. Hottest guy in school. Why is this house haunted?”

Cas sighs heavily, but decides to humor his boyfriend by recounting the local legend. He isn’t exactly a fan of the whole ‘talking to the camera’ thing, but, well. He knows it will make Dean happy. And since that’s the only reason he’s currently in this haunted house at all…  

“This house,” he begins, louder than his gut instinct tells him he should be for the sake of being heard, “was originally on a plantation owned by one of the city’s founders. He was the first mayor, but only a few years after he was given the position, he and his family were killed in a fire that destroyed nearly half of the house.” He stops to kick a pair of empty beer cans aside, and eyes the camera. Even in the dark, Dean’s grin is blinding, his pride at the effort for dramatic tension clear. “It was suspected that his slaves were responsible for the incident, which means he almost certainly deserved it.”

Dean breaks into a coughing fit to cover a laugh. It’s a poor effort, and Castiel snorts his own amusement. Distracted now, neither of them attempts to continue walking.

“Is that all?” Dean prompts. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Cas shakes his head. “The house was rebuilt, and several families lived in it over the next hundred or so years. There was always a pattern of bad luck and early deaths, but the next worst thing to happen was Mordechai Murdoch. He was one of the first serial killers in the state. He kept his own daughters chained up in the basement until they died of malnutrition, and is believed to have killed at least fifteen other people, likely in this very house.”

At that exact moment, a gust of wind rushes around and through the house. The entire structure creaks and groans, and something upstairs shrieks.

Cas grits his teeth and tries to pretend that he did not startle in Dean’s direction—although they very much did jump together, as they’re now touching from shoulder to hip—but Dean, meanwhile, swears and swings his camera back and forth across the room. “Jesus Christ, did you hear that?”

Cas forces himself to huff, ignoring the blood that rushes in his ears. “It was just the wind, Dean—”

“No, you dumbass, not the wind!” Dean’s head is on a swivel, and for the first time since they pulled up to this godforsaken house, there’s genuine fear in his eyes. “There was something—”

Something scrapes across the floor behind them, prompting them both to spin. Their flashlights chase the sound, but as Cas can’t say he is surprised to discover, everything looks exactly as it had when they passed by a few moments ago.

Dean says, voice barely above a whisper, “What the fuck.”

Cas bites back a variety of I told you so’s, and puts a hand on Dean’s back. “We should keep going,” he suggests. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to do, but now going back toward their exit seems even worse than getting further in. They’ll see a bit more, let whatever the odd noise was clear out, and then make their escape.

Dean melts back into Cas’ hand and, thankfully, catches his logic. He visibly draws himself up, taking strength from his boyfriend’s touch, and then sets off in the direction they were initially headed.

They make the rest of the walk in a suffocating silence, the only sound being the creaking of the floorboards under their feet. It feels like a miracle when they finally reach the end of the room—and also incredibly relieving, since it means they are no longer out in the open—but unfortunately, what they find is less than reassuring.

Ahead of them are three, clear options.

There is a half-broken staircase leading up to the second floor. To the left is an opening to what seems to have been the kitchen. And then to the right, beneath the stairs, is a crooked door tagged in spray paint as ‘basement’.

For a moment, the two of them are utterly still. And then Dean turns his camera between their three options, then directs it back toward Cas’ face. All of his bravado has returned. “Rock paper scissors, winner picks where we go?”

Cas gives him a flat look. “No.”

Dean smiles, a bit of wicked amusement overtaking his residual fear from before. “Alright, then, so we’re in agreement that we’re going downstairs? The basement is where Old Man Murdoch hid all of the bodies of the people he killed, right? That sounds fun.”

“No,” Cas repeats. “I will not let us be murdered in a basement. And furthermore, I don’t trust any stairs in this place. We will be staying on this floor and not break our legs, thank you very much.”

Dean pouts, but from the way he huddles slightly closer to Cas, Cas can tell that his boyfriend isn’t truly upset with the decision. It’s subtle, but it unifies them enough that Cas feels slightly less horrified of what they’re doing.

Slightly. For the moment.

They advance into the kitchen where, as soon as they’re across the crumbling threshold, the temperature seems to drop significantly. It’s practically frigid in the room, and Cas tugs the zipper on his hoodie up a few more inches to combat it. He takes a few steps further into the room, wary of every shadow, and lets out a long breath as he steels himself.

His exhale fogs up in front of his face, impossible to miss thanks to the perfectly-aimed beam of Dean’s flashlight.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps reverberates through the ceiling above them. Cas’ breath catches, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Dean turn his camera upward, chasing the sound. They keep themselves completely silent as they listen; the footsteps seem to start further toward the front of the house, then pass directly over the kitchen en route to the back.

It feels like an eternity passes before the steps are no longer audible. When it happens, Dean reaches out and grabs the sleeve of Cas’ hoodie and whispers fervently, “Holy shit, there’s someone here! We have to get out of here, right the fuck now.”

Cas could not possibly agree with that statement more. Except—“Dean, I don’t think the next floor is sturdy enough to support anyone. Look at the ceiling, it’s rotten.”

Dean sweeps his flashlight across the ceiling like he needs to see the proof for himself, even though it should be obvious from the way the entire house is sagging and falling apart, then momentarily blinds Cas by turning both the light and the camera directly into his eyes. “But there’s someone up there!” he insists. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking hear that, Cas, that floor they were walking on was not rotten!”

Cas waves Dean’s flashlight away and blinks the brightness out of his eyes. “I heard it, Dean, but there’s no way—”

He cuts off with a strangled sound. He hadn’t been able to see it when he was blinded, but now that his eyes are readjusting to the darkness, he can make out a figure, standing over Dean’s shoulder.

As he stares at it, Cas feels the blood drain from his face.

It can’t be a person, it can’t, not in this condemned house where every sound is amplified tenfold and no reasonable human being should want to creep their way through it, anyway, and yet—

But of course, the alternative explanation for what is very clearly a humanoid figure standing right behind them isn’t exactly more reassuring.

“Cas? Babe?” Dean holds the camera on him, but for once, Castiel doesn’t even notice. “Cas, what happened?”

Cas’ jaw works silently, unable to form words. Eventually he settles on pointing, unable to get anything out beyond a choked, “Dean.”

Dean spins around, the beam of his flashlight swinging wide—and then he swears, and drops the camera to the floor. He scrambles to recover it almost immediately, while Cas grabs protectively at his elbow to steady him. The figure still looms, taller than them both and menacingly mysterious, and whatever it is they may be facing, he’ll be damned before they do it while separated.

Dean manages to pick the camera back up. The two of them press together, clutching at one another, and when they raise their flashlights up again, they see a flash of an angry, half-formed face with burning eyes.

And then just as quickly as he appeared, the man is gone.

“Where’d he go?” Dean demands. He starts to step forward, but only stops because Cas keeps a hand locked tight around his elbow. “What the fuck was that? Was that—?”

There are more footsteps upstairs, a rush of them this time, and what sounds like someone banging their fists against a closed door. First it sounds like it could be the chained-up front door, then it sounds like it’s echoing up from the basement, and then in an instant, Cas realizes exactly where it’s coming from, and a cold chill runs down his spine.

“The basement door.”

Dean looks at him, horror in his eyes.

All around them, the house only gets louder. There are footsteps, banging against the door, and thanks to a return to the wind, an inhuman shrieking sound that fills every room. Cas stands rooted in place, utterly terrified, heart in his throat.

Beside him, Dean says, “Fuck it.” He throws down his flashlight, grabs Cas’ free hand with his own, and yanks him along to sprint out of the house, back the way they came. They pay no attention to the hazards they were so careful about on their way in, and pass by everything else that is now happening without a second glance.

When they break free of the house, Cas swears that fresh air has never felt so good in his lungs.

They don’t stop running until they’ve reached Dean’s car, parked a hundred or so yards away from the house. Their hands remain linked while they collapse against the hood and pant for breath, a reassuring point of contact now that they should be safe.

When they’ve recovered, their hands slip apart. Dean still has his camera in his other hand, and though he lifts it back up in an obvious attempt to act like nothing is wrong, there is a haunted look in his eyes, and his had trembles just slightly.

“So, uh. Cas.” Dean clears his throat and glances over his shoulder toward the house, now gone quiet. “I’d say that went… well. Wouldn’t you?”

Cas drops his face into his hands and laments, “Why can’t any of our dates just be normal.”

[kpopchangedme]

Capture the Flag: The Trade

Two teams, a lot of snow & a simple common goal. The only problem is that you’re on a losing streak and Jaebum, your nemesis, is way too good at this game...

GOT7 Masterlist

Protagonists: Im Jaebum & you

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: SFW - Fluff - Enemies to Lovers - Highschool!AU - Inspiré par La Guerre Des Tuques

Lys’ note: Part of my VDay’ Collab for the @kpoptrashnetwork! Read @greasygyeom Yugyeom’s One Shot Capture The Flag: The Absconding!

In the middle of the white field of snow stands your old friend, Youngjae. His face is scrunched, whipped by the cold wind of the winter, if there were price to pay for not choosing a side it’d be that one; freezing to death. There’s absolutely no shelter from the bad weather in the neutral zone, the small flat ground separating the two enemy bases. Youngjae is still waiting to talk, trying to gather the attention of everybody across the playground, even though he’ll fail like always. You wiggle expectedly from one foot to the other, partly to not let your toes freeze, but also because you’re especially anxious today.

Nobody really knows how this all started, only that it’s been a school tradition between students for years; two teams, two elected Captains, a referee, a list of rules and two flags. Both teams spend weeks of winter building a snow stronghold, working on their strategies and praying for the weather to be on their side. Then comes the final week of the game; four evenings after school without adult supervision where the two teams face off with everything they’ve got.

“Captain Im is still staring at you, y/n.” Mark leans closer, nudging you with his elbow. “Try to not move around so much, perhaps he won’t notice how nervous you–”

“It’s freaking -15ºC, Tuan. Maybe if you thought harder about your strategies instead of studying where Jaebum is looking, you’d be able to beat Jinyoung at it for once!”

“Ouch, I’m hurt.” Mark touches his coat where his heart hides under, chuckling. “I don’t think my strategies are what’s causing our losing streak you know… I’m starting to believe your heart isn’t really in it!”

Gasping at the implication, you feel your cheeks heat behind the secrecy of your scarf. “Shut up!” You scowl and Mark laughs, only amused by your perpetual anger. He’s been bringing this up a lot these days, always teasing you about your rival. “As if, Jaebum’s the enemy and he’s an assh–”

“No fight within the teams!” Youngjae points to you both, raising his voice so everybody can hear. Your eyes catch a smile on Jaebum’s face at the other side of the playground and you curse him under your breath.

Today is the day you win; you’ll wipe that smug off his perfect face.

Im Jaebum. Your nemesis, the Captain of the Blue team. If he were Achilles, you’d be Hector and tonight; the battle of your life.

“Is everybody already here?” Youngjae clears his throat and both teams purposefully ignore him as always. “Great! Before beginning, let me remind you all one last time; no weapons are allowed on site!” There’s a collective groan from the two small crowds. “No fireworks this time! Snow and your open hands are your only tools, did you hear me Bambam?!” Youngjae sighs, discouraged. “That being said; we’ll proceed as always. You have to wear your hat from your team’s colour at all time! Each team will go back to its castle and its flag and you’ll only be allowed to leave when you hear my siren... If I see somebody trying to cross the neutral zone bef–”

“We get it! Everyday’s the same!”

“Thanks for the unnecessary intervention Jackson, but there’s no interrupting the referee!” Youngjae shakes his head, like his role is unbearable and you roll your eyes at his lack of authority. “Anyway, after the siren, you are free to leave your castle to invade the other team’s. The first team to successfully secure the other’s flag and bring it back to its own castle wins the battle! For the last fight of the year, the score is…” Youngjae pauses dramatically and you clench your teeth, annoyed. “3 – 0 for the Blue Team!”

There’s an uproar on the enemy’s side of the field while Red team stays quiet behind you. You stare at Jaebum’s silhouette as he proudly raises both arms under a thunder of claps, muffled by mittens. Show-off.

“Red team”, you growl, “I don’t care what it takes to defeat those jerks. Tonight, they’ll see RED!” There’s a loud racket of approval accompanying your words. Your teammates even begin to energetically jump, the sound of their boots on the solid snow reverberating through the air. Across the field, the smug on Jaebum’s lips straightens, usual arrogance cooled a bit by the high spirits of your troops. That’s right Im, you’d better prepare for a damn war. Your lips curl upwards, a new confidence warming your body; Red team would never go down without a mighty fight.

You barely avoid a chunk of ice flying near you by rolling on the ground and let out an angry hiss through your clench teeth. Ice is supposed to be prohibited, but amid a fight with snow flying all over the place, it’s hard to prove the throw was voluntary. Plus, you’re attacking the north facade of the Blue’s snow fort and Youngjae is monitoring the neutral zone where most people usually fight, which is south from here. The north facade isn’t usually guarded since it’s near the end of the playground, on the outskirts of the woods, and all entries to the Blue stronghold are facing the neutral zone. Still, a few enemies followed your troop there, probably suspicious you were on a special mission or something. They are right, but it’s part of Mark’s scheme. Around you, boys from all ages are fighting, pushing and throwing; your teammates are doing a great job creating a diversion.

The enemies don’t even give you a second glance; the girl attempting to climb the 7 feet ice wall. You usually go unnoticed, that’s partly why you were chosen for the special mission. In an almost all boys’ competition, you’d think they would give the only two girls playing a little attention, but they ignore you both and let you do what you want. Except Jaebum, that jerk is always picking a fight with you. For once, he’s probably fighting someone else at your own castle at this very moment.

As for the only other girl, she’s from Blue Team and a complete mystery to you. She’s a real danger though, they say she has a mind of her own and is a total badass. So far today, she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s worrisome but you can’t think about her. Right now, all your efforts are put in the endeavor that is the escalade of the ridiculously high fortification of the Blue fort. Seriously, how did they even successfully build that thing? No wonder the Red haven’t got a single win yet! Their stronghold is almost impenetrable this year. Jinyoung, their strategist, probably worked on the plans all Fall, he’s way too invested in the game, even more than you or Jaebum. The climb would be a nearly impossible challenge for anyone else, that’s why their walls aren’t guarded, but you aren’t anyone. Only Mark knew you spent all your summers climbing mountains all over the country with your father. That’s the other reason why you were chosen for the invasion today, put your skills to good use.

When you finally reach the edge of the fort, you throw both legs inside, not bothering to look to see if there’s an opponent. Down on the ground of the Blue’s castle, you lower your scarf under your chin to make your breathing easier and recover. You’re already all wet from the physical effort. There’s three openings in the huge fort, but they’re heavily guarded. They’ve been keeping the same defense strategy all week; four guys by each door while every other player is on the field. The whole point of your mission is to sneak in without a physical fight, Red has been failing all aggressive invading attempts these past days. You reach the center of the fort without any encounters, just like Mark predicted, the enemies are all out attacking your own castle.

You must hurry to grab their flag and go back before they succeed in stealing yours. You believe in your teammates back at the fort, but they can only push the Blue invaders back for so long before someone slips in and catch it. Mark is with most of your team, taking care of the defense of your Red banner. While Jaebum team’s usually opting for many strong attacks, yours voted for a defensive strategy with a single attacking troop for the last game; you and the diversion guys causing chaos outside. Tonight, things are looking great, the hard part is done, you’re now in the center of the rival stronghold, completely alone. Getting out with the banner will be easy since they won’t be expecting the enemy to come from inside their castle.

Wait a second, where’s the Blue flag? You freeze, looking at the empty lonely pole in the middle of the circular ice room. It’s not here. The flag is to never leave its original fort expect for the capture, it’s one of the rules! There’s no way someone from your team already stole it, the plan–

“Not on the defense duty today?” A boy you hadn’t spotted earlier walks out of one of the corridor in front of you, leisurely, almost teasing. He’s around 16 years old with sharp eyes and wears a blue hat pushed so far down you can barely see his eyebrows.

“Jaebum”, you groan, irritated. “Looks like we actually switched roles.” He nods, taking a step to the right and you mirror him. You’re both used to meeting like this, since Jaebum’s his own strongest attacker while you usually assume the defense of your flag. The situation appears to be reversed for the last game, maybe it’s something like faith. You’re destined to fight each other, only tonight; you’ll win. Find his weakness – Achilles heel – make sure his arrogance is his own undoing.

“Well”, he cocks his head contemptuously and you just know he’s smirking under his scarf, “I’m glad, I was a bit sad when I thought about not seeing your pretty face today…”

“Shut up”, you’re both slowly tracing circles in the room, walking around the pole in the center. “Where’s the flag, dickhead?” Jaebum laughs at your insult, the sound making your skin crawl.

“Dickhead? Tst!” He takes a step forward and you back up by reflex, colliding with the ice wall. “The flag hasn’t leave my fort –” Jaebum throws his hands to the sides, gesturing the whole empty place. “You know I love to live by the rules…”

Grimacing, you study him anew; he’s wearing a simple black coat with snow pants of the same color and a scarf is covering most of his face. There’s only one place he would hide it; under his clothes. It’s nothing new, the Blue Team used that technique very often last year, back when Chansung was still in school and their elected chief.

“I guess I’ll have to come get it then.” Jaebum frowns at your confidence, uncertainty passing on his features for the second time today.

“I know you, y/n! You wouldn’t da–” He never gets to finish this sentence, because in no time, you’re jumping on him. The boy lets out a muffled grunt when the air is expelled out of his lungs and you both fall on the cold ground. “Are you nuts?”

Right now, you don’t care what it looks like. The Red team needs a win, you won’t go down in school’s history as the first female Captain with absolutely no win for your first winter. You’re sitting on top of him, trying to shove his zipper down while Jaebum’s wiggling, panicking under you. His reaction’s off; if he hid it under his coat, he should have expected somebody would try to steal it. The struggle is draining; there’s nothing quite as exhausting as wrestling in snowsuits. You’re almost thankful when Jaebum shifts his weight to flip you both and cages you between his knees.

“God, you’re heavy!” He fails to avoid your elbow flying to his head and you accidentally shove his scarf down, uncovering his face. “Hey! That’s an illega– humpf” Jaebum winces when your fist finds his stomach, although the hit is mostly absorbed by his layers of clothing.

“I’m not heavy, you asshole!” You’re about to hit him again, but he grabs both of your hands, pining them above your head.

“I know you want a win...” Jaebum pants, tired from the struggle. “But if you hit me again, girl… I swear, I won’t hold b–”

Without warning, you jump, pushing your hips away from the ground and trying to make him fall off you. You successfully destabilize him, but instead of using the opportunity to wiggle away, you’re completely frozen still. Jaebum may not have been expecting your hip thrust, but you definitely weren’t expecting his sudden proximity. To keep the upper hand and his balance, he lowered himself on you. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek and see every single one of his dark eyelashes perfectly.

“What are you doing?” You wiggle, uncomfortable and trying to free your hands from his. If he were a gentleman, he’d let you go, but instead he holds the position, staring at you with his eyelids lazily half closed.

“Holding you down with my body.” His voice is hushed, so low it feels like he’s telling a secret. “Enjoy every second of this honey, you made me do it.” Your original confusion turns to anger at the pet name and you glare at him threateningly.

“Get off!” For a second, you still and he hesitates, seemingly pondering.

“I thought you wanted my flag.” Jaebum chuckles and hot air brushes your face. Despite yourself and the freezing weather, you shudder treacherously, body catching fire and cheeks tinting red.

“Well, there’s no way you’re giving me that…” You hate yourself for it, but when you murmur, without really meaning to, you glance at his mouth.

You’ve never been this close to a boy, let alone actually kiss one. Even if you’re fighting, this feels somewhat intimate. Jaebum lips seem so close, soft and intriguing. Blushing, you blink, trying to erase your thoughts and he shifts his weight, pressing you down on the cold ground even more. Jaebum exhales slowly, taking a moment to look around the empty room like he’s searching for somebody.

You can hear the screams mixed with laugher from the game raging on outside the fort. It’s only a question of time before one of his teammates comes in and finds you both like that. It’d be horribly humiliating, people would misread the whole situation. Jaebum has quite a heartbreaker reputation in school, he’d brush it off and laugh, but you couldn’t. You’re the one who’s the best at everything she tries, the one who intimidates the boys, you’re the first girl to be elected Captain of the Red Team; you don’t lose to anyone. Not even freaking Im Jaebum. That’s why this week of games has been hellish and you’re probably just losing your mind because of this arrogant jerk.

“I-I don’t know... I might.” When Jaebum looks back at you, you stop breathing.

“W-what?” You gulp and he chuckles again, glancing at your parted lips.

“We both have something the other wants”, he clears his throat, taking a more formal tone, “I’m proposing a secret trade.” You raise a brow with skepticism; you have absolutely nothing that Jaebum would need. “Captain to Captain.” He adds, lips curling upwards.

“Anything.” You breathe out and his expression flickers between shock and incredibility for a moment. He hadn’t realized you’d take the deal. “I really need that flag.” You need more than the Blue flag; you need to bring it back to your fort too. You need the Red Team to score one point, just one. Blue Team would still win this year’s games, but Red’s reputation would be saved. Now it’s a question of honor.

“Anything?” There’s a new longing to his voice and you hold his gaze, anxiety and perhaps something foreign growing in your stomach. You nod slowly, barely able to move as Jaebum licks his lips and glances at yours again, eyes feverish.

Maybe you’re not the only one losing your mind.

Is Im Jaebum about to kiss me? Why would he trade something as precious as a flag for that? The school heartthrob and you; it makes absolutely no sense. It’s supposed to be Red versus Blue, not Red making out with Blue. You’re both sworn enemies, this is wrong. Mark would never let you live if he found out you had your very first kiss with the infamous Im Jaebum. Still, against all better judgement, you close your eyes, waiting for something to happen. You hope you didn’t misunderstand him, you’d looked so foolish right now. Jaebum’s breath seems to creep on your cheek forever before his lips brush yours.

Right there, on the floor of the enemy’s castle, nothing so wrong has ever felt more right.

His kiss is delicate, gentle and short. He pulls back, but you stay still, eyes shut and toes curled tight, too timid to act. Jaebum chuckles lowly before leaning into you again, this time releasing your hands to rest on his elbows more comfortably.

The second kiss quickly evolves in something else, dangerous; annihilating space and time. You move too, molding into him in response and you both seem to forget yourselves. This is why people kiss so much, you think as you begin to question reality; this sensation is both blissful and alarming. Jaebum’s lips part, tongue testing your mouth. You allow him access, without really knowing how, but craving the taste of him. He explores you as you wrap yourself tighter around him, losing it.

You want more. Your tongue finds his, gently fighting and teasing it until a sound dawns in Jaebum’s chest. It’s another new discovery, an instinctive vibration that reverberates to your bones, something rough but delightful, savage but formidable. Another wrong that’s nothing but exquisitely right. You feel him smirk his usual stupid grin in your mouth, but for once you don’t mind. You want to hear him make that sound again, want to reexperience that vibration in him on your chest, without layers of clothing between your bodies.

Unfortunately, Jaebum pulls back panting like when you wrestled earlier. Fighting in snowsuit might be arduous but making out is even harder. He sits back in awe, finally getting off and releasing you. As you stand up too, still shaken up, you find the lack of him even worse than being trapped. Avoiding your gaze, he opens his coat and reaches under his sweater. He retrieves the folded precious navy flag and hands it to you with both hands, almost ceremoniously. You blush taking it, if you weren’t wearing giant gloves, you’d probably feel the warmth of his body lingering on it.

Jaebum clears his throat. “Remember that the trade must absolutely stay secret.” His words, spoken candidly, almost knock the air out of your chest. Of course, he’s ashamed he kissed you, he’s Jaebum and you’re y/n! Still, he’s the one who initiated the trade; the flag for a kiss. It wasn’t your idea.

“You think I’d boast about making a pact with the Devil? Trading a kiss for a win?” His face falls and he narrows his eyes. Already, you’re regretting your words. You don’t know much to relationships, but you’re pretty sure you shouldn’t let something fake, like this whole competition, taint something that felt as real as that kiss.

“Wow, who’s acting like an asshole now?” Jaebum frowns and you open your mouth to apologize, but he goes on: “I just meant that we’d get into trouble if people found out. Youngjae might not be a scary arbiter, but I assure you Jinyoung is terrifying. He’d never leave me alone if he knew I gave you this.”

“I’m sorry…” You nod, thinking about Mark and the rest of your Red teammates. They didn’t elect you Captain to make out with the enemy. You blush, embarrassed by your actions.

“But since you brought it up, we haven’t determined clearly what I get from this trade…” He closes the space between you, pushing until you’re trapped between the ice wall and his body. “You say I’m the Devil…”  You swallow when he leans in slowly, chills spreading on your whole body but not from the cold. He licks his lips again and you shut your eyes, expecting him to kiss you. Instead, Jaebum wet lips brush your ear, right where your red hat ends, and he blows softly, making you shiver. “Then I’ll be back to claim your soul next time.”

Your eyes shot open when he bursts out laughing, backing away. You smile, watching his eyes crease cutely. You get his reputation now; the Captain of Blue Team is deliciously handsome when he’s smiling and not being a jerk. After all, even Achilles was famous for his charming ways. A sudden profusion of loud screams outside catch your attention back and Jaebum groans, annoyed. Seems like your diversion is still ongoing.

“I believe that’s your cue; shouldn’t you make a run for it?”

You nod, looking around to plan your getaway. You’re conscious the deal was to give you the flag – not to ease your escape – but still, he points to one of the three ice corridors leading to an exit. You don’t even hesitate for second before deciding on this route, choosing to trust your occasional sworn enemy. You smile at Jaebum one last time, finally turning away and running to flee his fort. You just know you’re going to grin all the way to the Red Team’s ice fortress.

Perhaps you really traded your soul for a win after all.

GOT7 Masterlist

[taikoturtle]

Either "Bitch better have my money" or "Zero fucks given. Next please" for the five word prompts.

Pairing: Trimberly

“Bitch better have my money”

read it on AO3

Trini’s sneakers pound against the pavement as she scours the entire school grounds at the end of the day. Her eyes scan the passing areas acutely but fail to yield the results she’s seeking. Fingers fly across her phone’s screen as fast as her feet are carrying her across campus.

[Trini 2:44]

zack, you better b at school today

She checks his usual stomping grounds: the secluded utility shed near the football stadium, the bathrooms on the farthest outskirts near the chemistry labs, and the outside area at the back of the school. Each place is emptier than the last causing Trini’s scowl to deepen with every strike out.

[Trini 2:48]

this is really important where tf are you

Slowing to a stop near the flagpole out front, Trini sucks in gulps of fresh air to catch her breath. It’s quite possibly the worst day for their truant friend to be elusive, but Trini’s always had shitty luck so she can’t exactly blame him. After becoming a Power Ranger he has steadily upped his attendance, but the bar is set pretty low when you’re starting from completely absent all of the time.

Her phone buzzes and she whips it up to read whatever excuse he has cooked up for her.

[Zack 2:52]

was taking a dump. can’t a guy get a break?

[Trini 2:52]

you’re so gross why are we friends

[Zack 2:53]

you tell me crazy girl

Her lips crack into a smile before she shakes her head and remembers the urgency.

[Trini 2:53]are you at school today?

[Zack 2:54]

you’re lucky I was feeling studious today

[Trini 2:54]

studious my ass. fridays are pizza day at school

[Zack 2:54]

potato potato

[Trini 2:55]

what?

[Zack 2:55]

that was way less effective through text

[Trini 2:55]

whatever just come to the flagpole now and bring the money you owe me

[Zack 2:56]

sooo about that…

As soon as she reads his last text, Trini feels her blood pressure rising like a bubbling volcano. A couple of weeks ago she had lent him some cash to take a girl out on a date. Partly because it was satisfying to see him beg so desperately because he really liked this chick, but mainly because she was happy that he was happy. Honestly, she would have lent him the money regardless simply because he’s her friend, but the groveling really was a nice touch.

[Trini 2:57]

SOS

It’s their code for when shit is real, and now is the time to cash in on that debt because Trini has a date of her own—with none other than Kimberly Hart.  

Yes, the Kimberly Hart.

The very girl who she’s been pining for ever since they stumbled across the power coins on that fateful night that changed their lives forever. The very girl who she initially despised when she had first transferred because of ignorant stereotypes that shaped how Trini thought Kimberly was as a person without even getting to know her first.

The very girl who stole her heart after she realized just how wrong she was.

And one would think that when a girl tricks you and pulls you down off a seemingly bottomless cliff, the friendship would be over before it even started, but such was not the case with Kimberly. Maybe Trini’s just a glutton for punishment but something inside her that day compelled her to come back, and it certainly wasn’t Jason’s mildly rousing speech—all she knows for sure is that she fell into more than just that ravine.

Trini doesn’t do emotions very well. Anger maybe, sarcasm most definitely, but love? As far as she’s concerned, love is as foreign to her as advanced physics. She loves her family, but it’s a delicate and complicated love that’s riddled with frustrations, so navigating the complex feelings she harbors towards Kimberly is a treacherous endeavor to say the least.

But it’s worth it—it’s always worth it.

She’s always worth it.

Trini had finally mustered up the courage today, fueled by Billy and Jason’s supportive encouragement and inspiring pep talk, to ask Kimberly out on a date. It was the most nerve-wracking moment of her teenage life, standing so closely beside Kimberly as she unfolded the tiny note that Trini slipped into her locker that morning.

Passing notes is kind of their thing, so it only seemed fitting that she asked her to dinner with a note. She even tried to draw a picture of a pterodactyl and a sabre toothed tiger but Kimberly ruined the moment by asking why she scribbled a pigeon and a dog on the paper. Trini knows she’s no Michelangelo, but come on.

Despite Trini’s apparently poor fine arts skills, Kimberly beamed at her and breathed out a relieved “finally!” before pulling her into a warm, inviting hug. Kimberly always gives amazing hugs too, the kind where her arms wrap fully around Trini’s body, not too tight but just close enough to make her feel safe, to feel enveloped by affection.

They’re the kind of hugs you never want to end, but time waits for no one and the school bell rang so they had to go their separate ways. Trini still felt the lingering warmth from Kimberly and her body hummed with vibrating excitement, eager for the day to end so they can go on their date.

It wasn’t until her next class when Trini opened her wallet to determine where they would go later that night did her heart plummet into her stomach.

It was empty.

Sure, insisting to pay for the whole bill is an antiquated notion, but Trini doesn’t care—she wants to treat Kimberly on their first date, to really make her feel as special as she makes Trini feel, but how is she going to do that with no money whatsoever? There’s no way she’s going to have Kimberly pay for the entire dinner when the date was Trini’s idea to begin with.

Which is why Zack needs to get his ass over to the flagpole before she kicks it so hard he won’t have anything left to sit on.

“Bitch better have my money,” Trini mumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms, her foot tapping the ground impatiently.

Her phone buzzes again but before she can glance at its contents an arm slings around her shoulders out of the blue and startles her.

“Here you are!” Kimberly exclaims as she leans heavily into Trini with a broad smile on her face. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry, I had uh… stuff I had to do after school,” Trini replies vaguely with her gaze averted downward.

Trini feels Kimberly tense up, the air thick with silence before her voice tentatively asks, “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Yes!” The word blurts out louder than intended and a blush overtakes Trini’s chagrined expression.

“Oookay, cool. I was just checking,” Kimberly responds quietly. “I mean, if you’re having second thoughts or like, you don’t feel like going out tonight I totally understand. The last thing I want is for you to regret anything or force you into something you’re not ready for or–”

“Hey, no no, stop.” Trini turns swiftly to face Kimberly and shakes her head earnestly. “Believe me, I do want this–” her hands motion back and forth between them animatedly “–I had something I needed to take care of first before we leave, really.”

The tension in Kimberly’s thin expression releases as she exhales, the worry and anxiety leaving her body upon hearing her words. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous I guess.”

“Aw, I make you nervous?” Trini grins smugly which garners a playful slap on the arm from Kimberly. Her pocket buzzes again, but Trini disregards it in favor of paying attention to the situation at hand.

“Seriously though, I haven’t really put myself out there since the whole Ty Flemming thing and I just don’t want…” Kimberly pauses, her eyes shifting left and right, heavy with the pain of her past and searching for the right words to continue.

…to get hurt is what Trini thinks to herself, because behind all of the confidence and bravado, romance is still very much a sore point for Kimberly. She knows she’s made mistakes and if you ask her what compelled her to do it, even she has no idea, but the repercussions of her actions still echo to this day and they’re impossible to escape.

Trini throws her arms around Kimberly and pulls her back into a close embrace. Her hugs may not be as good as Kimberly’s, but damn it she can try. She’d hug away Kimberly’s ghosts if she could, but life doesn’t work that way and it’s never that simple, so Trini offers her truest self and hopes it’s enough to keep the demons at bay.

Smiling softly in the crook of Kimberly’s neck, Trini breathes out barely above a whisper.“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool.”

A choked laugh escapes Kimberly’s lips and her grip around the smaller Ranger tightens. “Thanks.”

Trini ignores the questioning looks that the other students are conspicuously throwing their way because they don’t matter–nothing else matters right now besides the fact that Kimberly is in her arms and that they fit together as if it were meant to be and everything feels absolutely perfect.

“Trini!”

The moment ruined, Trini’s brow furrows upon hearing her name being shouted in the distance and both girls turn to seek the source of the noise.

Kimberly squints to get a better look and her mouth parts open slightly in confusion. “Is that… Zack?”

True to her observation, Zack is barrelling towards them at full speed from across campus like a charging bull, his arms furiously pumping at his side and long legs putting in work. If his attendance at school wasn’t so poor, Trini could picture him on the basketball team or track and field.

He closes the gap in an impressively short amount of time, coming to a halt several feet away. Doubled over with his hands on his thighs as he heaves in and out haggardly, Zack angles his head up and stares at Trini incredulously.

“This is your SOS?”

Sweat drips down the sides of his face and Trini nods seriously. “Yeah.”

Zack straightens up and lets out an exhausted laugh. “Oh this is great.”

“Dude, you can laugh about it later. Do you have it?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“What?!” Trini nearly shrieks and Kimberly flinches out of reflex, taken aback by her unusually loud outburst. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why’d you even run over here to begin with if you didn’t have my money?”

Zack shrugs casually with a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face, “You stopped responding to my texts.”

“What money?” Kimberly inquires, her head tilting to the side curiously.

“Oh, Trini didn’t tell you?” Zack starts, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “She’s fresh out of cash, which I’m assuming she needed for whatever she’s doing tonight, which, by the looks of it, might be you–OW!”

Trini cuts him off with a swift punch to the chest mixed with a little Ranger strength for good measure.

Kimberly snorts humorously and looks at Trini. “Is this what was bothering you?”

Too ashamed from being exposed, Trini could only stare at the ground and nod her head dumbly.

“You’re adorable.” Kimberly links their hands together and gives her a little tug. “You don’t have to pay for me.”

“But I wanted to!” Trini protests with exasperation. “Besides, I asked you out on a date. That’s just messed up that you have to pay when I was the one who proposed it.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Kimberly says nonchalantly with a cheerful smile, “tonight’s on me.”

Zack smirks, “That’s not the only thing that’ll be on you tonight.”

Trini punches him again, her face as red as a tomato, as Kimberly’s bright laughter rings in the air.