#she spotted the glint of his tear tracks which is how she could tell

[foundtherightwords]

The Firebird - Chapter 11

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, Fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warning: none

Chapter word count: 3k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Chapter 11 - The House on Chicken Legs

It was the strangest sight Paul had ever laid eyes on since his arrival in Lukomorye, and considering he'd seen some pretty strange sights, that really was saying something. An iron mortar was flying into the clearing, carrying inside it an old woman, all bones and sagging skin, with a nose so long and hooked it almost touched her upper lip, a head of stringy white hair, and eyes that glinted within deep sockets under bushy brows that reminded him of a leshy's eyes. She was driving the mortar by beating it with a pestle in one hand, and in the other hand, she held a broom, which she used to sweep away her tracks. It seemed to Paul a rather cumbersome mode of transportation, but Baba Yaga—for he had heard enough tales of her to recognize her on sight, even without an introduction—clearly found it quite efficient.

The mortar stopped, and Baba Yaga stepped off. Her gimlet eyes bore into the four of them, searching, measuring. They all involuntarily cowered, even Ilya, who lowered his bow with an uncertain frown. At this closer range, Paul realized that Baba Yaga's eyes weren't quite like a leshy's. He couldn't tell what color they were, only that they were dark, sharp, and profound—not just physically deep, but containing unfathomable wisdom and age. It was rather like being gazed at by an abyss.

"Well, well, well," Baba Yaga said. "What do we have here? Three Lukomorians and a Russian! By Perun, we are eating well tonight!"

Zhara gently extracted her trembling hand from Paul's and stepped forward. "Please, grandmother," she said, bowing low. "I am Zhara Artyomovna of—"

"I know who you are, girl," Baba Yaga interrupted. "I know who all of you are, except for this one"—she pointed a bony finger at Paul—"but what I don't know is, what you are doing here."

"Please, we don't mean to trespass," Zhara said. "We're here to most humbly ask for your help."

"Help? To bring down your brother?" Seeing their surprised looks, Baba Yaga chuckled. "Yes, I know all about your brother and his scheme, girl. What's it got to do with me?"

"What's it got to do with you?! How could you ask such a thing?" In her shock, Zhara forgot her diffidence and raised her voice. "If my brother gained immortality, he would crush Lukomorye! He would destroy everything, including you!"

Baba Yaga's eyes glittered strangely. "That is not immortality he is striving for," she said. "He is only trying to cheat Death, and believe me, you cannot cheat Death for long. As for destroying me... I am older than these trees around me, older than the river running through that meadow, older than those hills there, older than the land itself. Whatever he can do to me, I shall welcome it." Her words sounded like they were coming from far, far away, and Paul shivered.

"Please, grandmother, you're our only hope—" Zhara said, extending her hands toward Baba Yaga imploringly.

"It is foolish to hope," Baba Yaga said, as cold and unyielding as a mountain. "There is nothing I can do for you."

Zhara looked back at her companions with eyes full of despair. At the sight of her tears and her trembling lips, Paul forgot all his fears. He would not let anyone treat her like this, not even if that person was—well, even if it was his own mother. He could not.

"Come, Zhara," he said, taking her elbow and guiding her away. "Don't degrade yourself. We must have made a mistake. She's clearly not Baba Yaga."

Zhara frowned at him, not understanding.

"What did you say, boy?" the old woman snapped.

He turned around to face her, trying to conjure up his usual expression of contempt, the one he often wore around his mother's lovers or the other sycophants that clung to her skirts. "Well, at least you're not the Baba Yaga that I have heard of back in Russia," he said. "That Baba Yaga was all-powerful and would never stand for any threats, not running away at the first mention of danger like some dotty old bird."

Zhara gasped. Even Ilya and Elena widened their eyes, shocked at such blatant impertinence. Baba Yaga was upon Paul in a flash, her skinny, claw-like hand closing around his throat.

"I know what you're trying to do, boy," she growled. "Think I could be fooled by such a childish attempt to rile me up?"

The horse with the golden mane chose that moment to trot over, perhaps because it was bored with the grass that Baba Yaga's woods had to offer, or perhaps because it noticed that Paul, to whom it had taken a strange liking, was being threatened. The sight of the horse made Baba Yaga drop Paul's neck instantly.

"Is that you, my Voskhod?" she said, her voice becoming tender as she reached for the horse in disbelief. "You have come back to Baba?" The horse gave a soft whinny and rubbed its nose against Baba Yaga's calloused hand. She turned to Zhara and her companions. "Ever since Afron stole him from me, I never thought I'd see him again. What happened to that slimy bastard, by the way?"

"Dead," Ilya said.

Baba Yaga cackled, sounding like she was gargling with a mouthful of rocks. Once she sobered up, she looked at Zhara again, and Paul thought the old woman's eyes softened somewhat. "Since you and your companions have returned my little Sunrise to me, I owe you. My offer is this: I shall take you wherever you wish to go and lend you whatever aid I can in your fight against your brother, but I shall not take part in that fight myself. What is between you and your brother, you must face on your own. Is that understood?"

Zhara almost fell to her knees with relief. "Yes! Thank you, grandmother!"

"Don't thank me just yet," Baba Yaga grumbled. She turned to face the woods and chanted, "Little house, little house, stand the way thy mother placed thee, turn thy back to the forest and thy face to me!"

There was a great rustling sound. The trees shook and groaned, the birds roosting in their tops shot up into the sky, squawking in complaint about being roused from their sleep, as some huge creature moved through the forest. But it was no creature. It was a hut, moving on a pair of chicken legs.

The sight of the hut, so familiar to him from the old tales, made Paul almost laugh out loud in delight. It walked into the clearing, sat down in front of Baba Yaga by folding its chicken legs underneath, and became an ordinary izba.

Or perhaps not quite so ordinary. A little lawn, complete with a fence surrounding it and a gate, had spread out around the hut, but these were not the usual wooden fences and gates. They were white, bone white, for indeed, they were made from human bones—long leg bones for the fence posts, topped with skulls, shorter arm bones for the crossbars. The gate was locked with a set of jaw-bones, sharp teeth still intact. As soon as the hut sat down, an eerie light shone out from the eye sockets of the skulls, illuminating the entire place. Three horses, the white and black they had seen, along with a red one—not chestnut, not bay, but true red, as red as Zhara's plumage—stood grazing on the lawn, under the shade of a great linden tree, quite unfazed by the ghoulish barricade.

"Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!" Baba Yaga shouted. The locks sprang open with a horrible clicking sound, and the gate swung wide on hinges made from the bones of human feet.

The moment the gate opened, the horse with the golden mane, Voskhod, trotted through and joined his family on the other side. They all welcomed him, happily snorting and rubbing their noses into his mane.

"Those are my Night, Day, and Sun," Baba Yaga said proudly. "Sun is Voskhod's mother."

The humans were much more hesitant to enter. Paul followed the others as Baba Yaga led them inside, afraid he was going to find more gruesome things. To his great relief, it was a perfectly normal izba with its warm stove and simple, sturdy furniture. A mouth-watering smell of fresh baked bread was coming from the stove, and the travelers, their fear and suspicion overcome by the exhaustion of the last two days, sat down at the table to join the most fearsome witch of all the lands in a nice, cozy supper.

But the most extraordinary thing about the house on chicken legs was still to come.

After supper, Baba Yaga barked, "Well, where are we going, girl? Where is your brother?" In a halting voice, Zhara told her about Buyan Island. The old witch nodded solemnly and hit the ceiling with her broomstick a few times, mumbling something under her breath. There was a slight movement, and they felt the floor rise beneath them as the hut unfolded its legs again. This done, Baba Yaga climbed up on the stove to sleep, apparently satisfied, leaving the others to exchange puzzled looks. Then Paul glanced out the window, and his jaw dropped. Following his gaze, the others rushed to the window, and they, too, widened their eyes at the sight.

The landscape was rushing by, as it had when they were on Voskhod's back. The forest was a dark smudge, while the stars were shards of light glancing off of the skull-and-bone fence. However, the lawn with the horses on it and the fence around it remained stationary, and the hut didn't seem to be moving at all, giving the impression that the world was traveling past them instead of the other way around—and perhaps that was exactly what was happening. After a while, Paul felt rather queasy looking at it, so he turned away.

The hut traveled for most of the night, only stopping to rest at dawn, when the horses left to herald the day. They galloped out of Baba Yaga's pasture in reverse order—first Night, then Day, and finally Sun, leaving only Voskhod behind. The skull's eyes went out, and sunlight poured over the lawn like honey. Paul stood by the window, transfixed by it all. Zhara, now in her avian form, hopped about on the windowsill next to him, and he stroked her head and her wings almost absently.

"I can't thank you enough for allowing me to witness such magic," he said, and she gave a little chirp, sounding pleased.

And so it went with the house on chicken legs. It traveled through the land, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always moving forward. Paul, Elena, and Ilya worked around the house, and Zhara helped when she could. Paul, who had never had to lift his hand, not even to tie his own cravat, now had to get used to all sorts of manual labor—cooking, washing up, sweeping the floor, cleaning the yard, chopping firewood—but he dared not complain, not when he saw the two princesses and the knight working at these menial tasks as though it was the most natural thing for them to do. None of them ventured outside the bone fence. Baba Yaga was the only one that went out. Most mornings, she left in her mortar, though they knew not where and dared not ask. She left the larder and the cellar well stocked, and Ilya, who turned out to be the best cook of them all, made sure to have supper on the table by the time she returned.

Despite this peaceful routine, life inside the house on chicken legs was not exactly happy. For one thing, Elena remained sorrowful over Dobrynya and would sit for hours in the yard or in front of the fire, staring at nothing. One night, when it was their turn to clean up after supper, Paul whispered to Zhara that he didn't understand why Elena could grieve so much for someone she had only known for a few days.

"You once told me yourself, we cannot decide who we fall in love with," Zhara said with a shrug. "The heart wants what it wants."

Does your heart want me? Paul wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue and held his peace. It was not the time to speak of matters of the heart. Zhara always seemed distracted these days. Paul supposed that the closer they got to her brother, the more tangible the battle ahead became to her, and she could think of nothing else. He wouldn't have worried, except that she ate little and slept even less. As a bird, she would flit about the house or jump from branch to branch on the linden tree in the yard, never staying still, and at night, she would stand by the window looking out. Sometimes, waking on his cot in the corner of the room in the middle of the night, he would see her at the window, gripping the frame white-knuckled, as though by doing so she could make the hut travel faster. His attempts to persuade her to save her strength hadn't been successful, and he could only pray that they reached Buyan soon and face Illarion once and for all.

The only one who remained busy and cheerful was Ilya. He spent his days sharpening his sword, oiling his mace, and fixing and recounting his arrows, trying to see if he could make them last. He had even started to teach Paul how to use the spear, and Paul gained much more sympathy for his soldiers, who'd had to suffer through his drilling exercises.

Some days, Baba Yaga stayed home or returned earlier than usual, and she would watch their work with that same inscrutable glint in her eyes. One night, seeing Elena take off the poultice on Paul's wound, which was completely healed by now, the old witch said, "You have a talent, girl."

Elena blushed. "Thank you. Ever since I was a child, I've always had an interest in healing plants and herbs, and it just comes natural to me..."

"I'd say." Baba Yaga scratched her warty chin, looking thoughtfully at Elena. "How would you like to stay with me and learn more of the art? I could use a helper around the house too."

"Oh, that would be a great honor!" Elena said, her face brightening up for the first time in days. "Thank you, grandmother!"

Another day, after watching Ilya count his arrows again and again, Baba Yaga grunted and went digging in her trunk. She came up with a quiver, which she tossed to Ilya. "Put your arrows in that," she said, "and you shall never run out."

Ilya tested it, and indeed, any arrow he loosed from his bow would return to the quiver a moment later. "I've heard about this!" he said in amazement. "It belongs to Svyatogor the Giant—or used to, anyway. How did it come to be in your possession?"

"I won it, a long, long time ago," Baba Yaga said, her eyes darkening with some distant memory.

Something in her voice, in the way she looked at the quiver, lit a spark of suspicion in Paul's mind. He remembered how adamantly she had refused to help them, and how, in all the days they stayed in her house, they had never seen her perform any feat of magic other than controlling the hut—and even then, the hut seemed to have a mind of its own.

He followed the witch outside, where she sat polishing her mortar and pestle under the linden.

"You don't have any powers, do you?" he asked. "Not any that counts." He was surprised at his own brazenness, but if Zhara was placing her trust in the wrong person, he felt he ought to find out and warn her.

"You're sharp, aren't you?" the witch said without looking up. "So tell me, Russian boy, how do you know which power counts and which doesn't?" When Paul couldn't answer, she gave a little chuckle but didn't seem angry or offended. "Make no mistake, I may not have as much power as I used to, but I still have it."

"What do you mean, 'not as much as you used to'?"

She finally lifted those unfathomable eyes to his face. Harsh lines scarred her features. "You boys, always think of powers that control and destroy. I used to have those as well, until they were taken from me... by my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Koschei."

Paul's mouth dropped open.

"Koschei is—was your brother?"

"Yes, why do you keep repeating everything I said, boy?" She sounded irritated, rather like one of his old nurses or tutors when he kept pestering them with his questions about his father's fate or his mother's coup. "He took my powers from me in his quest for immortality. And look where that led him. Bested by a child. Pathetic."

Her reveal left Paul speechless.

"But—" he stammered, once he regained his train of thoughts, "if Koschei took those powers from you, and Illarion took those powers from Koschei, why do you refuse to help us defeat him? With Illarion gone, you can reclaim your powers!"

"And what would I want with them?" She shrugged. "I have the power to drive my mortar whenever I want to go. I have the power to protect my house and those in it. Don't they count?"

Paul thought about it. "Are they enough?" he asked.

Baba Yaga shook her head, her dark, dark eyes looking at Paul with something almost like pity. "If you think of power that way, nothing will ever be enough, boy." She went inside, leaving Paul to mull over those words.

Chapter 12

There will be a bit of smut in the next chapter. It's non-explicit, as usual with me, but I thought I'd give a heads-up anyway!

Taglist: @ali-r3n

#prince paul #tsarevich paul #catherine the great #prince paul fic #prince paul x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

[wovenstarlight]

⭐️💫⭐️ \o/

(ask for author's commentary on a section of my writing!)

FDBJDKGLGFN OH SHIT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO ANSWER.... uhhhhhh [frantically looks through fics] OH YES I HAVE ONE

ok so this is from fire-forged! the fic i wrote for sona about an ORV dragon AU! wherein hsy and kdj are raised by dragons and yjh is a royal knight out on an unknown quest. i wanna talk about yjh perspective in this scene

That’s it. In a fit of irritation, she reaches out when he comes near again, and she smacks his ear. He twists immediately, snapping at her fingers in a very non-human reflex. Then he freezes mid-bite, looking extremely confused. And. The eyes. The hair. The magic. Oh. That’s… that’s where she knows that voice from. “Han Sooyoung?” Yoo Joonghyuk has gone from confused to vaguely alarmed. It’s not very obvious, but she knows how to read his tone. (She never forgot.) “Are you crying?” “I’m fine. Listen, when—” She chokes on a breath. “How old did you say you were?” “Why do you—” He stares at her for a second. “I’m twenty-eight. Is there a problem?” He’s walking towards her now, a cautious look on his face. “Should I call one of the—” “No,” she hears herself say. “No, it’s fine. See ya around. My brother’s on his way. Tell him I said to be nice to you.” She turns and she walks away.

(discussion under the cut)

this part is when hsy figures out that yjh is 99% likely the reincarnation of her childhood dragon friend joonhyun, right. and i was very amused while writing this because hsy is canonically 2 years or so younger than yjh but here i made her at least a couple years older which means she has Eternal Noona Rights. and the concept of yjh being told to call her noona instead of Han Sooyoung (derogatory) made me literally lose it while i was writing this part

LIKE YOU KNOW HE WOULDN'T DO IT UNTIL WAY LATER AND HE'D BE REALLY MAD ABOUT IT THE WHOLE TIME it would 100% be noona (derogatory) because he just, talks like that. but aNYway the POINT was,

yjh was bitchy throughout this whole interaction because he's not been getting sleep from Plot Related Shit giving him weird dreams and also they'd been riding a fair while before they got here and he was all sore and achy, and on top of that hsy was (derogatory)ing at him with every word she spoke, so he was in a Bad Mood bad mood, yeah? not functioning at full capacity. so when he almost bites hsy he literally has a moment where he's like SURELY I WASN'T IN THAT BAD A MOOD and genuinely is about to apologize? with like, a not-quite-apology but you can tell he's a little regretful

AND THEN HSY STARTS CRYING ON HIM AND HE'S SO TAKEN ABACK THAT HE FORGETS TO BE POLITE AND APOLOGETIC AND JUST GOES "ARE YOU CRYING" in the worlds MOST incredulous tone

which, like, rude. and he's like Yeah my chances of being well received are dropping by the minute i should appear at least vaguely concerned for her wellbeing so he tries to approach her to calm her down but Oops she left!

yjh stews in his extreme confusion and vague regret and lingering irritation for like half an hour and then storms off back to the inn he's staying at in the village where ysa's dropped by and is convincing his party members to unionize. then kdj shows up within the next 10 minutes, having heard that He Made Noona Cry, and on TOP of that he also literally wasn't there when kdj came to find him, so like. kdj mad in the.... have you seen that post which is like "i love when it's busy at starbucks and the gay baristas get mean"? that sense

and i did mention like a few paragraphs later that he changed his name as a kid but to be entirely clear dragon'sblood!yjh is a trans guy

also also because you sent two stars technically,

Her dragon sister and brother begin swearing at her, both telepathically and out loud. Yeomryong tilts back his head and raises slow hands to slip off his mask. He’s crying, she realizes with a jolt, but he has a smile on his face as he stares up at her. He mouths something. It looks a bit like sister.

he's, uh. he's saying "i hate my fucking sisters."

[jazz hands]

#work: dragon's blood in my veins #answered #obstinaterixatrix #star.txt #its cause both hsy and uriel pulled this shit on him the first time they figured it out and he's like #Can You Bitches Show Off Without Almost Dying For FIVE MINUTES #hes laughing a little bit too! but hsy can't see it from that far up #she spotted the glint of his tear tracks which is how she could tell #thank you for sending asks im sorry it always takes me like a month to respond T-T #orv #han sooyoung #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #abyssal black flame dragon #thinking abt part 2 where its revealed how the fuck joonhyun got to be joonghyuk.... The Lore Is So Tasty I Can't Wait #yjh trans hsy cis with a question mark and meanwhile kdj's gender is like. dragon(query) ykwim

[universalistotalis]

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

-

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

--

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

--

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

#hq ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima headcanons #ushijima scenarios #ushijima x reader #ushijima drabble #ushijima fic #ushijima imagine #hq wakatoshi #wakatoshi kun #wakatoshi headcanon #wakatoshi imagine #wakatoshi x you #wakatoshi fluff #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu wakatoshi #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu reader insert #shiratorizawa #tendou satori #semi eita #shirabu kenjirou #haikyuu goshiki #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader

[ask-runaan-anything]

Blush challenge? When’s the first time Ethari threatened someone to protect you?

He threatened Tiadrin, and I nearly had a heart attack.

I'd been to see him at his workshop the day before, for... weapon reasons... and when I followed my feet back to drink in the sight of him pick up my repaired sword, I walked in on him planting his feet and standing between her and my sword on his worktable. He was pointing imperiously at her, and then toward the door where I'd just walked in, and his voice had gone deliciously burry.

I froze in my tracks, entirely lost as to what I'd walked in on, but I needn't have worried. Ethari wasn't looking my way. He was tearing Tiadrin a new one for overworking me so often! He called her irresponsible and callous, and he compared her unfavorably to a "warmongering fool," which set her right eye twitching dangerously.

That's when I nearly had my heart attack. Tiadrin doesn't give much warning before she strikes, and you have to know what you're looking for or you'll miss it.

I was mid-calculation on which of them to hold back first when Tiadrin sensed me and asked me, while holding eye contact with Ethari, "Is that true, Runaan? You feel overworked?"

Little shadow, I did not feel overworked. I felt overwhelmed with feelings that I did not know how to express, and this moment was no different. I knew my damaged weapons were 90% ruse in order to plant me in front of Ethari again and again, with a reasonable excuse that even I could wink at. So, naturally, I couldn't just out my entire convoluted scheme in front of him. Or in front of her.

But I didn't have to. Ethari shifted to stand between Tiadrin and me. When he spoke, his voice was still soft, but it carried a dangerous steely glint. "You need to let him rest. He's no good to you exhausted."

Her gaze bored into him, slipped past his ear and stabbed me, and returned to his face. It took me far longer than I like to admit, to understand that she sized us up in that moment in a way we couldn't manage ourselves. "He's no good to anyone exhausted," she told him. "Runaan, you're excused from training today. But stay here and make sure this lazy craftsman completes the work you asked of him. I expect you back tomorrow."

And she stalked out.

That left Ethari and me standing awkwardly in his workshop. I tucked my arms behind my back out of habit, but he approached me slowly. "You really do look tired. I promise you, your sword is ready. I was just stalling... I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"You stalled an assassin... you stalled Tiadrin... for... me?" I managed.

He nodded. "So you might get a lighter day in training. If you're damaging your weapons so regularly, she must be pushing you way too hard. I thought, if I just... didn't give it back to you quite yet... she couldn't run you into the ground for a day." His eyes searched my face, and his dark brows lifted under his shaggy fringe. "You really do look tired. Does Tiadrin really expect you to stay here all day and monitor me?"

I nodded. "Tiadrin expects everything she says to be followed to the letter."

He shot a smoldering glare after her and grumbled, "Well, she's not the boss of me. My workshop, my rules."

I nodded swiftly, not wanting him to think I sided with Tiadrin on this issue. "You can work on other projects today, yes? And I can, ah..." I searched the room for somewhere unobtrusive to tuck myself out of his way.

"Do you want to sleep? You can use my bed. Tiadrin can glare at me all she likes, but I'd never rat on you. I've got a nice soft pillow, if you like your pillows soft... Runaan?"

Little shadow, when I tell you that my cheeks turned moonberry red at the thought of sleeping in the same place where Ethari slept... I could not breathe, I could not feel my feet, I had no idea where to point my eyes, and I let out the most undignified little squeak I've possibly ever made in my life.

"The mouse is back," Ethari teased me, and I nearly perished on the spot. "Don't worry, if you're not actually tired - even though you should be! - then you can just... Is it going to be too boring if you just... watch me work? I can tell you what I'm working on, if you like."

"Please-" I blurted, desperate for any idea to fill my mind with that didn't involve lying down and smelling Ethari's scent all around me.

His smile at my eagerness was so soft and happy that I tried to think of something else to say to please him. But he spoke first. "Let me make you some tea, then, and we'll get started."

We.

He said we.

I nodded, and he popped out to fetch the tea, and I stood in his workshop with moonberry cheeks and a heart that was determined to yank me up to the Moon itself.

Ethari wanted to spend the day with me, wanted to protect me, wanted to take care of me. I couldn't quite accept that at the time, but now I know what he was truly saying.

My cheeks were right all along.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #story time #ruthari #soft elf boyfriends #tiadrin does her best #ethari does better though #his tea is amazing by the way #and i mean that both ways #how very moonshadow

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

———

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” 

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?” 

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp. 

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair. 

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-” 

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes. 

“You mean that?” 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.” 

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls. 

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!” 

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse. 

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.” 

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?” 

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you… care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?” 

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.” 

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits. 

He’s right, though - that’s the thing. 

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile. 

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before. 

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over. 

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.” 

“What?” 

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes. 

You feel nauseous. 

You wonder if Hotch knows. 

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes. 

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee. 

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free. 

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek. 

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.” 

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable. 

Jordan’s responses are short. 

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side. 

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again. 

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it. 

“He’s dead.” 

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired. 

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop. 

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers. 

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest. 

His ears still ring. 

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them. 

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets. 

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.” 

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall. 

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his. 

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?” 

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands. 

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright. 

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut. 

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed. 

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately. 

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.” 

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with. 

You might already be dead. 

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene. 

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.” 

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.” 

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily. 

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings. 

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over. 

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.” 

———

‘He’s dead.’ 

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet. 

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained. 

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death. 

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you. 

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead. 

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving. 

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news. 

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse. 

“You killed a man.” You whisper. 

“What’s that?” 

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.” 

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin. 

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.” 

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly. 

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones. 

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall. 

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted. 

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge. 

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain. 

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull. 

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face. 

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket. 

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs. 

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek. 

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip. 

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand. 

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV. 

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily. 

He’ll die trying. 

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket. 

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window. 

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet. 

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit. 

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock. 

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain. 

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot. 

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body. 

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up. 

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears. 

You know that voice. 

You’d know that voice anywhere. 

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you. 

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes. 

He’s alive. 

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.” 

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

Tags:​ @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @bananabucky @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy​ @archiveofadragon​ @yoshigguk @acidicbloody @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu​ @bauslut @averyhotchner @vashanatasha @hotchwhore15 @pjmjams @slxtherinchxser

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch smut #hotch fluff #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #criminal minds

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Our Doll 13//Rumlow

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | Peter comes up with a plan to get y/n to safety. Steve attempts to find the man controlling her

Warnings | swearing maybe? Slight violence

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The plan was simple.

Get in, get her out.

Peter, to his credit, had thought through the plan in such detail that Bucky was strained to find a fault. Even a small one.

The boy had recruited Bucky and Wanda to reenact his scheme, the two being the only people he knew would be one hundred percent on board.

Other than Steve, who was on a 'very important mission' and wouldn't tell anyone about it. All they knew was that he'd taken a strike team with him and didn't know when he would be back.

He'd thought through everything: how to avoid triggering any alarms, which doors to use, who would do what to make everything seem less suspicious. He'd even considered the physics of anyone being able to spot them running from any of the rooms around the back of the compound, from any angle.

Just in case someone was angsty and couldn't sleep, he'd informed Bucky and Wanda.

Peter was currently hanging from the side of the glassy building, webs holding strong as he leant his weight back into them and waited for the signal.

Bucky was down in the cell with y/n, under the pretence of checking on her as Wanda used her powers to break into the security system. The aim was to retrieve y/n without making a sound, or alert the others.

A flash of red. The quiet click of a door shutting.

Peter took his cue.

The boy swung down, quickly webbing the heavy, metal door shut when the flutter of ginger had followed Bucky and y/n out the back of the compound.

Door sealed and little chance of a break-in, Peter goaded the three Avengers past the tree line as he swung from branch to creaky branch.

"Go, go, go!" His voice was coming out as a hoarse whisper as Bucky's legs worked mechanically - y/n's sleeping frame locked tightly against his chest as Wanda followed closely behind.

The girl's head kept turning, checking behind them to see if anyone was following. But no one was ever there, only the crisscrossed leaves and shrubs covering their tracks with such accuracy that the scarlet witch could hardly believe it.

Bucky broke through the clearing just after Peter, the young boy already holding the car door open for Bucky to slide his girl onto the backseat.

The car was run-down and shabby - looking just old enough to blend in but not too obvious as if to scream 'were trying to be inconspicuous'.

The car door shut as slowly as Bucky could make it before he was running around to the front - bionic arm yanking the driver's side door open before he hopped in himself.

"Are you going to be alright?" Wanda asked, only a hint of her accent left to grace her voice now. Bucky nodded, nimble fingers twisting the keys in the ignition until the car roared to life.

She wiggled her fingers, a movement Bucky struggled not to find funny, and a little stream of glowing crimson flowed from them. It curled under y/n's nose, the sleeping girl instantly groaning with protest as she begun to stir.

"Tell Steve I'm sorry, but this was the only way." Bucky gritted out, throat dry and sticky as the words crawled into his mouth. Wanda nodded, ready to walk away when Bucky's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"And give him this - but only when he starts to look for us." Bucky proclaimed, taking a ruffled envelope from one of his pockets; the paper was crinkled and creased, had clearly been stuffed into his pocket for a while now.

Wanda took the letter between her fingers, a small tear pricking at her eye when she read the name scribbled over the back in rushed - yet somehow neat - handwriting:

My greatest love...

"I will, he'll get it." Wanda nodded, folding the envelope and pushing it into her back pocket. "I promise."

"Thank you." With his last words spoken, Bucky gave a thankful nod to Peter - who had hung back awkwardly behind Wanda until now - before rolling his window up and pressing his foot on the accelerator.

Steve's foot stung as it crashed through the door, yet the super soldier ignored it as he paced past the now-splintered wood with little care.

"Where is he?!" Steve spat, the words like a venom in his mouth as he crowded a cowering man in black tack gear. His strike team followed closely behind, guns raised in a defensive position just in case there were unexpected hostiles in the room.

"I-I don't know! I swear!" The man stuttered, teeth clashing together as he stumbled blindly backwards towards a wall. He squeaked when he made contact with the bricks, sucking in a breath as Steve held his shield against the man's neck.

"I don't believe you." Steve grated through bared teeth, the vein popping out in his forehead as he flushed red with anger. "Tell me."

"Okay! Okay, I'll tell you." The man whimpered as Steve pressed the shield harsher against his oesophagus, his shaking hands raised in hopeless surrender. "He's in a safe house, a few miles from here - he recently came back for supplies then left. He said he'd never be coming back."

Steve pulled away as the man cowered, a shout of annoyance ripping from his throat as he threw the shield against the wall.

Steve grunted as he caught the vibranium, looking over to his team.

"We need to find him! I won't have my girlfriend controlled by some- some monster!" Steve barked. A chorus of 'yes, Captain's echoed from the men. Someone was already on comms and Steve was careering back across the room.

"Captain, we may have a location." One of his men spoke up sheepishly after a moment, pulling away from their laptop.

"And?" Steve prompted, brow raised.

"It's only a few miles north - we could be there within minutes and they'd never see us coming." Steve sprung into action at the words; he pushed off the table he'd been leant against and made his way outside the building they'd just breached.

"Find a car with keys in - our vans are too obvious and can be spotted from a mile away." Steve directed.

"Yes, Captain." One of his team said, and they were quickly followed by two others as they went in search for a car.

"We need to be quick and inconspicuous - turn off the comms, they may be able to detect the link. I want all out - if we fail, y/n could never be back to full control again. Got it?" Steve finished his instruction as he turned around to face the rest of his team and they all nodded. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, captain!" They all agreed.

"Then get to it."

So much for a simple plan.

...

"B-bucky? Where am I?" Y/n's voice was saturated with sleep, drowsy and dopey as she propped her frame up on her elbow. "Where are we?"

"We're going somewhere safe, Doll. You're going to be safe now." Bucky promised, blue eyes flitting to meet y/n's in the mirror as he kept his hands on the steering wheel in a firm grip.

"Where's Steve?" Bucky felt his heart drop at the words. This was the only downfall of Peter's plan - they'd have to leave Steve.

"He's on a mission." Bucky answered simply.

"He's not coming with us, is he?" Y/n affirmed, eyes glinting with a hue of guilt.

"No."

"What- I had some dreams...I think." Y/n mumbled, pressing her hand to her forehead as she felt a dull ache forming.

"Were they good?" Bucky asked, making a left at a junction. Y/n took a moment to assemble her words.

"The best. It was- it was our life, Bucky. But it was..." she trailed off, pieces of her story shattering away from her memory.

"In the 40s?" Bucky finished for her and y/n's eyes widened.

"Yes. How did you know?" Y/n demanded with squinted eyes and Bucky chuckled lightly.

"They weren't dreams, doll. Wanda made a new reality in your mind. Someone was getting in so we had to keep them out. Now put your seatbelt on." Bucky explained and y/n have him a glare.

"So who, uh, how was it possible?" Y/n queried as she sat up properly. The soft click of her buckle filled the space of the small car until Bucky answered.

"Wanda. She's been so helpful, that Parker boy too." Bucky commented and y/n quirked a brow.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, this whole plan to get you out was his idea. Smart boy." Bucky commended.

"Huh." The girl considered. "Do you know who was - what did you say? - 'getting into' my mind?" Bucky sucked in a breath. Y/n frowned and nudged his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. "Tell me."

"Rumlow."

Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala @turkish276 @lilpopizzle @gooseyhouse @ohmy-fandoms @harrysthiccthighss @partiesandblurrypolaroids @prettysbliss @the-surviving-revolutionist @white-wolf1940 @dpaccione @tenaciousperfectionunknown @loveyou5everr @vallerydevora @multihoee @supraveng @cap-n-ce @sebbyxlover @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @veronicapaula @ravenmoore14 @frickin-bats @itstaylorcale @sunflowerbunny2 @spookyparadisesheep

#stucky x reader fluff #stucky x reader smut #stucky x reader #stucky #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve roger fanfic #bucky barnes x steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve rogers smut #steve Rogers #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #smut #image #images #marvel #chris evans smut #captain america #chris evans #marvel smut #sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 13 - Tom Riddle x reader

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 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.1k

Part 13 - Pranks & Proper Paybacks

The quill in your hand scratched lightly over the parchment as you were taking notes for Astronomy in the library. It was quiet, as usual, except for the occasional questions and thereof resulting explanations between Ben and Camille. She helped him study for his upcoming Herbology exam, for which he clearly hadn’t revised enough yet. Silly boy.

Tom was there too and sat next to you, completing the quartet round the table. He tried his best not to hiss at them every time Ben asked something. You noticed from the corner of your eye, how he gulped down every thought that built up in his head when another word poured from Ben’s mouth. It was amusing, to say the least, seeing Tom battling with himself to keep his cool. He still didn’t like Ben very much and would much rather study with you alone. But the fact that he had voluntarily sat down with the three of you, tried to behave and didn’t yell at Ben whenever he opened his mouth, told you that he probably didn’t hate him as much as he pretended to.

“So, about the Fluxweed again,” Ben whispered, browsing through his book. “How many days does it have to grow?”

Camille was about to answer when Tom pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled dramatically. “Sixteen, Ben. It’s sixteen. She’s told you that three times at least.”

Ben took a quick look at Tom, while still fumbling through the book. “I know, mate. I just can’t memorise it. Why do I even need to know that?”

Tom flung a piece of parchment toward him, pointing at the empty sheet. “Write it down, then. There are some things you must know. Get over it.”

“Alright, alright,” Ben grinned and didn’t seem to care about Tom’s tone at all. “I’ll write it down, see? Fluxweed takes thirteen days to grow. Happy now?”

“Sixteen,” Camille, Tom and you sighed in unison.

“Oh.” He crossed out the number and sloppily wrote the correct one above it. “Sixteen then.”

Camille and you chuckled to yourselves while Tom only shook his head slightly, his eyes back inside his own book. Ben certainly was careless, or to be more precise, a lot more careless than Camille, Tom and you when it came to grades. The way he talked about homework and even exams was astonishing. He hadn’t even studied for his O.W.L. in Care for Magical Creatures in his fifth year, and he still got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’. Or so he had told you. He had always found a way to talk his way out of things, which was reasonable. Teachers really seemed to like him. Or rather do anything to stop him from talking once in a while. 

“Oh, wait,” Ben said again.

“Just read your book,” Tom grunted.

“No, hang on.”

Ben stood up and stretched his arm out quickly, reaching and grasping for something to your left. You all turned your heads and saw him catching something that had been flying right at you.

“I might be bad at Herbology. But you’re lucky I’m a bloody good Seeker,” he said and twisted the thin thing between his fingers.

“What is it?” Camille asked. “Let me see.”

Ben put the thing down onto the desk, still pressing his index finger on top of it. “It’s a quill. But it appears to be jinxed. It was flying on its own and headed right for your face,” he said and looked at you. “Still wants to, I can feel it moving.”

The grey quill twitched eagerly beneath Ben’s hand, trying to escape and pointed its sharp tip right at you, ready to pierce into your skin. 

“Not again,” you mumbled.

“Again?” 

Things, odd things, had been happening during the week. Someone had definitely played some pranks and antics on you. You hadn’t found out who it was yet, but it certainly had become pesky. On Monday, someone had left you a note that said Professor Merrythought wanted a word with you. Once you had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom however, you were met with a confused teacher and had a hard time explaining yourself. Tuesday, someone had poured Rash Powder over your dinner. You had almost taken a bite but thankfully had noticed the unfamiliar smell in time. Wednesday was more subtle. There had been puddles and slippery spots everywhere you stepped. Avoiding them had been a tedious task. And now, on Thursday, this. The quill didn’t look like it could badly injure you, but its vivid nature was a sign for a hex, rather than a jinx. No matter who it was, all those things did tear on your nerves. Not only because the pranks got to you, but because there was a possibility someone had been following you without you noticing. Every time you had gone to the Come and Go Room you had turned around and checked if someone was behind you, just in case. That was the exhausting part.

“Just some pranks,” you explained. “I don’t know who or why, but it’s getting fairly ridiculous.”

“Could someone,” Ben puffed. “Stop this thing? It’s trying to escape.”

Tom pointed his wand directly at the quill and rolled his wrist. It lit up for a fraction of a second and crumbled to dust right after.

“Ouch,” Ben hissed and fanned his hand through the air hastily before putting his index inside his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”

Tom smirked complacently, partly for the spell he had just cast and partly for burning Ben’s fingertip. “Anytime, mate.”

Camille dragged her finger through the ashes, took a good look at them and rubbed it off between her index and her thumb. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you answered.

“Avery and Lestrange again, perhaps?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” Tom said. “I checked on them some days ago. They’re still with Carpe most of the time, scrubbing the floors and polishing trophies. And besides, they wouldn’t dare.”

“Who else could it be then?” Camille asked as she blew the remaining ashes off the desk with a quick cleaning spell.

The four of you exchanged looks around the table. “To be honest,” Tom began. “I was suspecting you for a while, Ben.”

“Me?” Ben asked wide-eyed. “Why would I do that? I just stopped that quill.”

“‘I’m aware, I’ve seen that now.”

Camille hummed, deep in thought. “Wait,” she said. “What about Freda? Freda Morris.”

“The head girl?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” she said. “She was so jealous at Slughorn’s party, wasn’t she?”

Tom looked at you, biting on the inside of his lower lip, then nodded. “That doesn’t sound too far fetched.”

“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be so creative,” you said while picking up your books. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her then.”

Once you had gathered all your things, you got up and waited for Tom to do the same.

“Where are you going?” Camille asked. “It’s not even seven yet.”

“I have to,” you stopped yourself. You had to tend to the potion in the Come and Go Room again. Needless to say, you couldn’t tell them that. “I have to go and look after Nagini. The snake. She’s shedding at the moment. Talk to you soon.”

“Let us know if something else happens,” Camille said and waved you goodbye. 

Tom followed you silently. Of course, they didn’t ask him why he had to come and check on Nagini as well. The perks of being intimidating. Apart from this, Camille and Ben surely didn’t mind studying without him nagging all the time.

On your way out, right when you left the library and headed toward the grand staircase, Tom and you were halted by another student. Platinum blonde and blue-eyed, Abraxas Malfoy, who was one of Tom’s ever so devious sycophants, locked eyes with him. 

“Tom,” he greeted and stopped right in his tracks.

“Abraxas,” Tom replied.

Oh, what did he want now? There wasn’t a lot of time until the potion had to be stirred, so you hoped Malfoy wouldn’t keep you from going any longer.

“So,” Abraxas began. “I’ve seen, you like to keep new company these days.”

Tom frowned and looked over his shoulder. Clearly, Abraxas didn’t mean you. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said and chortled a sour laugh. “I’m just observing. You’re dealing with mudbloods now?”

He was talking about Ben. Malfoy and Tom’s other ‘friends’ had probably seen you in the library together. Or in the Three Broomsticks, some weeks ago. Abraxas must have felt really brave to talk to the head boy in this way. His chest was swollen with pride and the glint in his gaze spoke more than he could have ever said. He was out to get something from this conversation.

Tom only exhaled sharply and stared back at Malfoy, completely unconcerned about his reproach. “And how come that’s any of your business, exactly?”

“Oh, it isn’t of course,” Abraxas answered. “I was just surprised. Shocked even.”

“I do apologize,” Tom sneered, clicking his tongue in fake sympathy. “That the gathering of other people, who don’t concern you in the slightest, has ruined your precious day.”

Abraxas stared back at him, obviously trying hard to keep calm. His smile still sat neatly on his face; it were his eyes that betrayed him. “No need to worry about me. I merely started thinking, daydreaming, that your Grandfather might not appreciate that.”

Now he had gone too far. Tom took a step closer, his nostrils flared for a moment and a vein on his neck stood out. “Abraxas,” he whispered so spitefully, it almost sounded like he was talking in Parseltongue, words spilling out of him like pure venom. “I’d advise you to worry about your own life. Because if you don’t, wouldn’t it be tragic if your Mother found out what happened last year at your house? When the maid left and never came back? What was the reason again? If only I remembered. Oh, I do.”

Malfoy’s expression changed momentarily, his head sunk and his eyes darted across the floor, trying hard to think of what to answer.

“Do we understand each other?” Tom asked.

Abraxas nodded, lips thin and full of fury. He instinctively retracted and took a step back, keeping his head low and looked up at Tom through knitted brows.

“Good,” Tom said and left Malfoy standing there. 

Continuing to walk to the grand staircase with you, he appeared like nothing but a casual chat between two friends had just happened. 

“Well,” you said after Abraxas was out of earshot. “That was interesting.”

“They’re all so stupid, sometimes I wonder how they’ve lived this long,” Tom replied. “I have dirt on every single one of them. And they try to blackmail me. Ridiculous.”

“Idiots indeed,” you shook your head. “Do I want to know what happened to the maid?”

“I guess not. It’s a long, repulsive story.”

No doubt it was. Abraxas was known for his dreadful ways and how he had tormented younger students ever since. He wasn’t like Avery or Lestrange, a dumb follower, who had Hippogriff crap for brains. No, he was mindful, awfully aware of his surroundings and constantly seemed to brood about his next step. He reminded you of Marvolo, they both had the same aura, cold and demeaning, always looking for ways to take advantage of other people’s misery. It was no surprise that he had tried to intimidate Tom, maybe even pass him in their hierarchy by threatening to tell everyone about his association with a muggle-born. But he hadn’t thought it through. Tom Riddle wasn’t one to mess with and he had just made that crystal clear. Ben might have not been his friend, but still, he hadn’t let Abraxas speak ill of him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you liked Ben,” you said once you turned another corner.

Tom opened his mouth and looked at you in disbelief for a moment, as if you had just insulted him, before he started talking. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it just seemed like it. You came to his defence so quickly. That’s why I assumed.”

“This wasn’t about Hilt. It was about me, Marvolo and that bootlicker Malfoy.”

“Whatever you say,” you replied teasingly while Tom rolled his eyes.

Friday evolved to be the worst day of the week. Not only had you almost gotten detention for falling victim to a Knockback jinx during Defence Against the Dark Arts if Camille hadn’t come to your rescue. Professor Merrythought still hadn’t forgotten about your visit on Monday and thought you were trying to disturb her lesson again. But in addition, your curriculum almost hindered you from tending to your potion completely. It had become nearly impossible to handle everything at once. Your classes, homework, studying for the N.E.W.T.s, taking care of the antidote and on top of all that, those stupid pranks. It had been draining and your body ached for a bit of rest. 

On your way to Tom’s dorm, when the sun had already set and you were finally done with everything for the day, you heard the clink of a door handle turning behind you. It almost had gone overheard, the only thing you wanted to do was sit down for a moment and unwind, even if only for an hour. You had already reached the door to Tom’s room and could have just entered to forget about the world for a while. But there was this unsettling feeling inside of you and Camille’s words from the library ran through your head again. You turned around. And thank Merlin you did.

Freda Morris stood in her own door frame, smirking maliciously, with her wand pointed right at you. She must have been taken by surprise, it didn’t seem like she had expected you to look at her. Her wand sank in an instant before she hid it behind her back.

“You,” you muttered, taking some steps her way. “It was you all week, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said smiling, trying to take the high ground, but you wouldn’t let her.

“Just admit it at least. Coward. You know exactly what I’m talking about and you were just trying to do it again, weren’t you?”

Freda shook her head and put a strand of hair behind her ear with her skinny fingers. “I’m head girl, dear. I would never do anything to harm another student if that is what you’re implying. I don’t know what could have given you the idea.”

“Oh shut up,” you spat. “Head girl, yes. An awful excuse for one at best.”

The door behind you opened and Tom appeared from inside. He looked out into the hallway frowning. “What’s all that noise about?”

“Your fiancée’s throwing a fit.”

“Camille was right,” you said, still not taking your eyes off Freda. “It was her. The note, the quill and everything else. I just caught her right in the act.”

Freda heaved one single, shrill laugh at your words and straightened her posture. “I just told you, I would never do such things.”

“What were you doing then? Pointing your wand at me, when I have my back turned on you.”

She pondered, taken aback, while she looked at Tom beside you until her grin appeared back on her face. “You’re imagining things. I was just leaving my room to go and talk to Professor Dippet. That’s when you started to yell at me for no reason.”

“Liar!”

She didn’t lower herself to even look at you anymore. Instead, she looked at Tom. “Is this really what you look for in a woman? Hysterical and hostile? I would have thought you had better taste.”

The need to go up to her and slap her across the face seemed almost unbearable. Your hands were balled into fists and it took all your might not to take out your own wand and pay her back everything she had done to you, times ten. Tom on the other hand stayed calm and smiled weakly while looking back at her.

“Don’t worry about my taste, Freda,” he said. “I’d rather worry about your memory. Maybe you haven’t been informed, which would be very unfortunate seeing that you are head girl, but Professor Dippet isn’t in Hogwarts today. He’s been called in by the Wizengamot. How could you have been on your way to him then?”

Freda’s smile faltered, her eyes darting back and forth between Tom and you. “I must have not gotten his owl then.”

“Certainly,” Tom said. “I want a word. Now.”

“No,” you intervened and he stopped his movements to look at you. “I can do this myself.”

Tom stepped back with a small smirk on his face. Freda was in for a treat. You walked up to her until there was only a hand’s breadth of space between your faces.

“Listen now,” you said, your heart pumping strongly inside your chest. “I don’t know what you were thinking. If you were thinking. But I swear, if you ever play another of your pranks on me again, I-”

“You what?” she asked and shoved you by the shoulder. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”

The moment she had touched you, you felt something moving by your feet. Nagini had slithered out through Tom’s open door and hissed louder than you had ever heard before. Freda gasped and took several steps backwards, startled by the snake. Nagini placed herself between the two of you and reared up, looking as huge and aggressive as ever. Her hisses were meant for one person only and when you looked back at Tom, you recognised that he wasn’t talking to the snake. She had come to your defence on her own.

“Take that thing away,” Freda yelled. “Make it stop.”

“Or what?” you asked. “You might have not been scared of me yet, but I promise you, give me one more reason and you will be.”

She didn’t dare answer, still looking down at Nagini in utmost panic and tried to foresee every move the snake was about to make. You savoured on the sight for a moment, fervently enjoying how Freda fumbled for the doorknob behind herself.

“Come Nagini,” you then said as you turned around. “Leave her alone. For now.”

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 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[moonchildsaurora]

When Monsters come out to Play

✤ Trickster!Hongjoong + reader (feat. Wooyoung) ✤ genre: Dead by Daylight AU // horror, angst (not really tho), survival mode ✤ t/w: sfw, rated M, contains: swearing/depictions of violence + blood/unhinged minds/death scene/mentions of weapons ✤ count: 1.9k+

a/n - have y’all seen Trickster from the dbd game? I would betray everyone in game for that man. So this piece is heavily inspired by that character & his lore, my mind is still reeling that the creators really did THAT. A few tweaks from the canonverse but hope you guys enjoy this wild ride! 💙

✛ play these vibes: Sub Urban - ‘Cirque’, P!ATD - ‘Emperor's New Clothes‘, Gi-DLE - ‘Oh my god’ ✛

Neon lights streaked across his face and dark ash hair, illuminating the silver that hung around his neck. Sharp kohl-lined eyes fixed on the two other figures dancing heartily around the karaoke booth, singing at the top of their lungs. Although one could argue that their borderline screams could be passable as so.

However, it was music to his ears and a hunger woke from its deep slumber. This feeling that was on the crisp of being foreign to him because he has not yearned for something this badly for quite some time now.

“I need it.”

The shrill cadence of the laughter from the figure who nearly tripped over his own feet, in a harmonious duet with the other’s. A soprano-like noise escaped your mouth when you fell from grace unto the lap of your newly-acquired friend who narrowly moved his wild berries cider out of harm’s way.

“I want it.”

You missed the rapacious glint in his eyes as you shouted at the other howling male, who was now in a heap on the couch and microphone dangling from his hand. You turned to apologise, with a peck on his cheek, to your angel of music. As you had so kindly dubbed him upon your first meeting. Peals of laughter fell from your lips when his onyx-dipped nails squeezed your sensitive sides. He was buzzing, not just from his drink but the sudden inspiration to create once more.

The spotlight has returned and centre stage beckons him home.

Yes, he wanted it.

“All of it.”

“C’mon! This way,” Wooyoung heaved sharply, tugging you with haste round the corner.

His grip on your hand, though sweaty, was desperately firm. Survival instincts had kicked in for the both of you, forcing adrenaline to fuel your exhausted bodies to run.

Agonised screams plagued the foggy darkness around your surroundings. Another fallen prey in this twisted game of cat-and-mouse you were forced to participate in. You didn’t know exactly how many others were stuck in the abandoned industrial site either. One minute Wooyoung and you were having a late night study at the local library, before the lights cut and so did your consciousness.

A manic laugh that echoed through the grounds and jerk of your arm wrenched you from your hazy thoughts.

Wooyoung held you close to him, signalling for you to stay hushed. He peered around the metal storage container to see if the coast was clear, not that the fog allowed anything to be visible more than beyond a few feet ahead. So he had to rely on sound and visual tracking of any sudden movements.

The dead silence was unnerving.

You had barely stepped out around your hiding spot once you’ve both deemed it safe when Wooyoung hissed in panic, “Watch out!”

You were dragged to the hard ground, scraping your palms on the gravel before what felt like a bee zipping past the crown of your head. The metallic thud caught your attention enough to swerve to look behind you. Where your head had been just a few seconds ago, now had a neon blade embedded right through the steel panel.

“Fuck! He’s coming, we need to go. NOW!”

The manic laughter seemed to be echoing all over your surroundings now, and not being able to pinpoint the direction whilst having to run blindly in the dark probably wasn’t the ideal plan for your survival.

Your breath hitched when Wooyoung’s hand suddenly slipped out from yours.

“Wooyoung!” you cried out for him.

“RUN!”

A forceful shove pushed you away from the initial direction you were heading towards, causing you to be thrown off balance and stumble onto the damp ground. The sounds of more cussing and a scuffle could be heard. You scrambled backwards, away from the source.

Scarce beams of moonlight filtered through the holes in the roof provided limited light to help you navigate your way around, using your sense of touch to avoid running into objects. Your mind screamed for you to turn back for Wooyoung yet the logical side of you knew he’d be mad at you for not using the window of opportunity he so freely gave to escape.

“He knows how to fight, he can handle himself.”

False comfort was the only thing you could offer yourself then. Skidding round a corner, you almost bowled someone over had they not latched onto your shoulders first.

“Please! You have to help me!”

The young woman was hysterical and dug her nails into your skin as she had her iron grip on you. Seeing her up close you were quick to notice both her arms and clothes were stained dark crimson, whether or not that was her own – you couldn’t tell.

“He’s going to kill me! He’s going to KILL ME!”

You winced as her voice became progressively louder. That fool was going to give your location away at this rate. You tried to wriggle your way out of her hold, which proved to be a wrong move, for she threw herself against you and shook you silly.

“Get me out! I didn’t do anything wrong. Why is he doing this?!” The tears that cascaded down her grimy face mixed in with the blood and left trails of red.

She sure was getting on your nerves.

“Shut it! You’re goin-“

“There you are my little mouse.”

The both of you froze. Like deer in headlights upon hearing that sickly silky voice purr out from the shadows. The young woman immediately drew back and hid behind you, as if you were a pillar of defence against this predator. Her hands that still clutched onto the back of your top trembled so intensely, you wouldn’t be surprised if the seams were to split open.

Hongjoong took his sweet time stepping towards you. Twirling those neon blades deftly around his fingers, metal glinting dangerously whenever it caught the moonlight. The scattered beams acted as spotlights and this was his stage to run. You’d thought a paint job had gone wrong for the mess of reds, both fresh and dried, marking him from his obnoxiously bright coat to his bare toned torso to the heels of his boots.

“Aren’t you having fun?” giggled Hongjoong, making a gesture to his foggy domain by spreading his arms wide out.

“What do you want from us?! You monster!”

Her cries added fuel to the already burning flames, ironically extinguishing out the last of your patience.  

“Call me something I don’t already know darling.”

The tip of his tongue darted out to lick the blood smear at the corner of his mouth.

That playful grin that had grown to be your favourite on him now looked so sinister. Hongjoong pointed one of the blades directly at you, “It’s time for you to join your little friend, I’m sure he’s already dying to reunite with you.”

“Don’t leave! Please don’t leave me!” the woman buried her face in your back. You didn’t reply to the woman but reached behind to firmly grasp her wrists. She mistook this for reassurance and to your relief, dropped her hands from your back.

Oh, how easy was it to lay the bait.

“What did you do to Wooyoung?”

Hongjoong might’ve expected you to be angry or even hurt, considering you three grew to be somewhat friends over time. Wooyoung and you had taken him under your wings when he was new to the town, and this was how he repaid you? Instead, you held his gaze and your voice didn’t waver when the question came out. If he was surprised he did not show it.

“I wanted a sample, of his music. It didn’t hurt…much…to get it!”

And the crazed twinkle reappeared in his foreign golden orbs, replacing the gentler brown eyes you were used to.

“And I want one from you too! In fact, both you and Wooyoung will be the main features of my next musical composition. I always save the best for the last, but…”

Hongjoong unfolded a fan of blades and drew his arm back into a pre-throw stance, “I’m just a tad impatient tonight and you’ve made me wait long enough angel.”

You found yourself facing down several blades making a beeline for you. To hell with the theatrics if Hongjoong thought he had waited long enough. You had done yours far longer, for the pure satisfaction of being able to rip the limelight away from one who thrives in it – in the perfect moment.

Within the few milliseconds you had left, you harshly yanked what you still had within your grasp to the front.

The applause died down and silence consumed the area.

Hongjoong tilted his head with curiosity and eyes widened by a miniscule at the scene before him. A choked gurgle. The blades had all found their marks on a new target and the corners of your lips curled up as you felt the life drained from the woman’s body before it went limp. Finally, the pest ceased to exist.

“Oh Hongjoong…”

There was a vicious edge to the tone of your voice now, and you let the ragdoll of a body fall into a heap by your feet. You bent down to pluck one of the blades from her body and nonchalantly inspected it. Not really having a care that the pool of red was starting to creep towards your feet.

“…Or would you rather I address you as, Trickster?”

A flicker of surprise, or supposedly irritation, passed over his features. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and slowly dropped his arms back down. What were you exactly playing at? This was his game, not yours.

“Word’s been around. And hearing about the Trickster perked our curiosity…so of course we just had to meet you.”

The puzzle pieces were starting to click together – Hongjoong merely became an actor in this script you gave him. Having Wooyoung and you cross paths with Hongjoong was a crafted intention.

Yet, what made the seeds of anger burst under his skin more so was the climax you denied him.

Hongjoong let out low grunt when one of his knees gave way under him, effectively bringing him down. A hand roughly grabbed the back of his freshly dyed silver hair and forced his head forward.

“When in the presence of the queen, you should be bowing. It’s only courteous, no?”

The dolphin-like laugh followed wasn’t hard to recognise who it belonged to. Another flick of his wrist, Wooyoung manoeuvred Hongjoong like a marionette. Thin, almost-invisible strings gleamed under the tiniest fleck of moonlight. Hongjoong would’ve attempted to sever his ties free but at what cost? Wooyoung prided himself in giving the cleanest cut each time he got bored of his new toy.

You scoffed at the nickname Wooyoung used, with slight affection.

“Hate to burst your bubble hon, but you’re not that special,” Wooyoung continued his mocking. Stepping aside to let you crouch in front of Hongjoong, he watched on with eagerness as you tilted Hongjoong’s chin with his own neon blade you were holding from before.  

“Little musician, you’re the new kid who strolled into our playground. And…”

Hongjoong’s eyes darted to look over your shoulder, at a few other figures who started to appear out of the dark. You tapped his chin to garner his attention once more. His golden eyes met your now, brilliant ruby red ones. A venomous smile stretched across your lips with your pupils forming into slits.  

“…unfortunately, there isn’t enough room for another monster to play around this part of town. “

“However, should you put on another show somewhere else…” suggested the one wearing a white crow’s mask, voice deceptively child-like.

You hummed at the idea. Fingers slowly tracing the playful grin that was already growing back on Hongjoong. It’d be a waste to get rid of such a pretty face wouldn’t it?

“We’d gladly come as your audience when you take the centre stage once more.”

#kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #8makes1teamnet #atzinc #kdiarynet #hongjoong oneshot #ateez au #hongjoong x reader #Ateez hongjoong #ateez oneshot #ateez horror #ateez wooyoung #kim hongjoong #jung wooyoung #dbd au #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez angst #kpop writing #ateez blurbs #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong blurbs #kpop fanfic #pyx writes

[7wanderingpaws]

Captain Bucheon 03

Warnings: strong language

Word count: 5.9K

story masterlist masterlist

tags: @wooya1224 @to-all-the-stories-i-love @jennxx3 @realllllrica​

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Third: Saving is Caring

“Lee Nari!”

Someone was shouting your name but you couldn't tell who exactly because the entire corridor you were residing on - the forsaken fifth floor, also the top floor of the building without an elevator - was flooded with girls. They were rushing to the opposite direction you were heading to, and you frowned deeply at anyone who made even the slightest brush against you - or your chest.

“Come to room number 501!” they shouted again.

“As if,” you scoffed to yourself and dodged one hand that was about to land on your breast.

“Aish, I was gonna try if they were actually real,” you heard the girl whine but her voice got quickly blocked out by exciting squeals.

Finally managing to land in your room, you basically kicked the door open, pissed, to find Yuyeon preparing in front of her make-up mirror. Her eyes were shining and she seemed way too happy.

“What the hell is happening out there?” you grumbled, slamming the door shut with your foot to isolate yourself from the annoying squeals. “It looks like a sect or something.” You dropped your bag in the corner and threw yourself on the bed, needing the relief in your tired muscles.

Running had been taking its toll on you the past weeks, let alone your job was tiring mentally, as well. There hadn't been any slip-ups or issues anymore like last time for which you were eternally thankful. That one time - yeah, you weren't sure you could deal with that again.

“You are coming toooo!” squealed Yuyeon as well and was fast to drop the blusher on her messy table before standing and jumping over to your bed, making you fly up on the mattress too.

You whined again and tried to kick her off your bed but she climbed over you and wiggled her eyebrows at you, a cheeky glint leaving an unease in your tummy.

“We-” she leaned into your ear, “are going to watch porn.”

You gasped and pushed her off of you, pink rising up to your cheeks. “What? Are you nuts? Why would you watch-”

“C'mon, Nari,” giggled Yuyeon, sitting up properly to let you sit up as well. Her shirt slid off her shoulder and her bra strap was showing which made you reach up to bring the shirt back to its original place. “I know you've already experienced it all but-”

This time, a horrified gasp left your mouth and you were fast to shut her up with a: “I haven't experienced those things at all!”

She frowned, pouting. “But you made out with Baekhyun and you said he touched you-”

Your head was starting to spin as you shook it so violently. “No, no, no, don't bring that up. He stopped when he found out I'm a virgin and it doesn't even matter!!”

“But Nari, he is a grown up male that knows eeeeeverything there is to know about, you know, sex, and he was hot and -”

“Yuyeon, please,” you begged, hiding your face behind your palms. You felt attacked at the memories of you and Baekhyun being all touchy. “It isn't that exciting,” you tried but you knew it was a terrible, terrible lie.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You don't have to come if you don't want to but it will be fun with all the girls. We can talk about boys and men and, I dunno, just enjoy.”

You pursed your lips, not so sure. A good rest was what you needed, NOT temptation. Let alone, you wouldn't be able to get Baekhyun out of your mind were you to watch stuff like that. When you were about to speak up, Yuyeon added:

“You know, ever since stuff happened, we didn't really go out like that anymore… I kind of miss fooling around with you and just going against the rules - although now we can't do it since we are old enough to be naughty, but despite that I just miss doing cheeky stuff with my bestie.”

It was heart-warming to see Yuyeon be honest with you. Even the fact that she mentioned Baekhyun was a step forward for neither of you mentioned him unless necessary. Yuyeon was tiptoeing around you for one year in order to give you time to get over the mess that the mentioned male did to you and then she grew accustomed to your indifference towards your surroundings. You didn't talk about it and she didn't want to pry too much, always listening to bits of your thoughts here and there.

Yuyeon didn't feel guilty for mentioning Baekhyun's name; if anything, she hoped that you got over it and wouldn't react to him too much. For her, of course, Baekhyun was still on the “hated people” side like Chul. But he was also your ex and you were talking about girl stuff. Exciting stuff. Mature stuff. Baekhyun's name had to be mentioned for he was the whole package in the past.

“I know, and I'm sorry about that,” you murmured, averting your gaze. Her knees were bent, her skin showing as her shorts had ridden up. “We should start getting back on the track, right?”

The corners of Yuyeon's lip lifted in a small, encouraging smile. “Yes. So how about starting with the porn?”

You laughed out loud, smacking her thigh loudly, making her wince. “Okay, okay, just because it's you!”

“No, it's 'cause you are super curious as well!” she said, sticking her tongue out at you. “How it's all done and stuff.” She was growing red in her face, but her blush looked  pretty and made her even more youthful. It made you grin wider and you shook your head at her and also stuck your tongue out, playing the silly one.

“You talk too much! Go finish your make-up, you're friggin ugly,” you rolled your eyes in mock and climbed off your bed, ready to change into more comfortable clothes.

When her slap landed on your butt, you abruptly turned around, glaring at her but both of you eventually giggled. Yes, this will be the best way to get your mind off stuff and hopefully have a good girls' night.

><

The room 501 was crammed with girls and pink and magazines and make-up and perfumes and smartphones with instagrams open. They were all chatting excitedly while one of the girls, you presumed the person living in this room, was behind her laptop, searching the websites that already screamed porn.

Both you and Yuyeon plopped down on the bed, shimmying yourselves between two girls who immediately took you in, wanting to socialize. That part was a little painful on your side as you weren't looking for new friends; especially not the ones who kept commenting on your chest and choice of clothing.

“Isn't it hard to run for you?”

“Don't people stare a lot?”

“Has anyone touched without asking?”

“How do you buy your bras? Korea is full of A cups and B cups are already considered huge anyway!”

You sighed and ensured the very concerned girl that you were able to get the cup of your size just fine - though, only in a few shops that were designed for ladies that were more blessed. You definitely couldn't just walk into any shop of your liking.

“Okay, girls, it's about to start!” shouted one and smashed the space on her keyboard, starting the forsaken video.

Everyone went silent right away, almost waiting with bated breaths for what was about to go down. 

With a small frown, you were focusing on the small story they were trying to fool you with, immediately presenting a beautiful woman with blue eyes, of course. The man, though, wasn't a catch at all - not for you, at least. Some girls' eyes sparkled at the sight of the main male character and the way he was tanned and incredibly muscly.

“He looks like he could crash her bones,” whispered eagerly Yuyeon into your ear while not tearing her eyes away from the screen.

You hummed; the more it went on the more distrubed you started to feel. It was all incredibly bizarre and their love story was faced paced.

Founding yourself zoning out and blocking out the scenes that quickly grew heated and, well, disturbing to you, you spotted a calendar of models on the desk. It wasn't too far and you grabbed it quickly, not wanting to be in the line of vision of other girls who were literally drooling while hiding their faces behind their hands at the rated scenes.

Taking the calendar, you listed through what seemed like an endless amount of sexy pictures of firefighters in Bucheon. Just as expected, they were either shirtless or pants-less or both. Thank God they had underwear. You didn’t deny it; they were so handsome it almost seemed questionable. What were they like in real life? Were they really as passionate about their work as it said on the calendar? And, more importantly, were they really as handsome as the pictures were portraying them to be? 

You kept listing through the pages, sometimes stopping to read. When you spotted a familiar face though, you almost fainted. On it, the month of May, was none other than Baekhyun. A black leather jacket was on him, underneath he was shirtless with his dark blue ripped jeans low on his hips, red supreme underwear poking out to tease the eager eye. The way they were hugging his thighs had a strong effect on you. As he had his thumb (the one with the mole on it) causally hooked in the belt loop hole, it brought your attention to the thin, and what looked like very veiny, skin that disappeared in the underwear. He had lean muscle that wouldn’t intimidate a girl. In fact, it would affect her heavily. You noticed a few more moles on his abdomen, the ripped muscles making the skin on it exceptionally tight. Saliva collected in your mouth and you quickly swallowed, averting your gaze to the upper part of his face. His hair was styled like a rock star’s with a comma hanging over his forehead, his dark eyes glaring at the camera, charcoal black eyeliner making them seem deadly. His lips were parted ever so slightly, scarcely revealing his front teeth, and your gaze hooked on them just a little while longer than they should have. You remembered the moments he would bite them. When he would lick them. When he would smile with them; or kiss you with them. He looked stunningly hot and dangerous. You couldn’t believe you once had this man to yourself.

You had heart palpitations.

Slapping Yuyeon’s arm, you tried to get her attention. You needed to vent, otherwise you’d suffocate. Yuyeon was too preoccupied with the disturbing video playing which was why the girl sitting on your other side spoke up excitedly into your ear:

“Oh my god, that’s the captain of the police, Byun Baekhyun! My oldest brother went to the same school with him.” She stared at the picture. “He is so fucking hot.” She was basically salivating over the picture. With her words, you felt something move within you. What it was you weren’t sure, but you didn’t like it. It made your chest tighten up and your mood dampen. “There are many hot guys in that calendar but Baekhyun has his own charm. I’d go for him any minute.”

Not sparing any more time with the picture, you harshly turned over the page, revealing a mediocre looking police officer. He was very handsome, thanks to plastic surgery, but after seeing Baekhyun, all the males seemed dull and boring. Despite your wild thoughts, you muttered: “He’s okay, I guess.”

She nudged you with her elbow. “C‘mon, I can see the redness in your cheeks,” she giggled and just in that moment there was a loud moan coming from the laptop. You felt yourself burning up even more and you squirmed on the bed, warmth pooling in your belly. These feelings were so foreign to you.

“You’re friends with Oh Sehun, right?” She was adamant about talking to you. So you nodded in response. “Well, he is good friends with Baekhyun. Yeonhee, the one who lives in this room, got the calendar from him. She likes Sehun but I feel like she has secondary intentions. If she could get Baekhyun she would not hesitate to go after him,” she giggled into your ear just when another moan resembled the room.

You sighed. “Sehun is a good guy, you know?” you muttered to her and looked at her huge eyes, the way they seemed dilated. “I hope you can tell her not to toy with him.” You looked back down, now a doctor on the cover. A doctor?! “Or else she will deal with me and that won’t be nice.”

The girl went silent. Maybe you came off as rude but you didn’t have many friends; nor were you looking for more. So if someone played with someone that belonged to you, they could rest assured you wouldn’t let it slip. “Do you perhaps know Baekhyun?”

And there it went again. Silently, you cursed your luck. This man seemed to be everywhere you went and mentioned by anyone you talked to recently. You never realized just what power Baekhyun had over this city. Realizing you probably took more time to answer, you quickly shrugged your shoulders. “Just a little bit. He is quite older than us so I doubt he has interest in us, kids.” It hurt to say, but you knew it was the closest to the truth. Baekhyun made the age difference between him and you crystal clear and even used it as a barrier between the two of you. Even though he wanted you, it was a crucial reason for him to stop moving forward with you. Or more like, he wanted to take things slow. You scoffed out loud.

“Well, I guess he just hasn't met the right one. The young ones are always better than the older ones. The older guys are just too afraid to admit it,” she told you and leaned further away, most probably wanting to end the conversation. She must have noticed your defensive, indifferent position and figured she wouldn't get a juicy talk with you.

That was fine by you. Because right now your head was so full of him; you couldn’t produce a single comprehensive sentence without giving yourself away. You so wished to meet him again and talk to him. You so wished things would have gone differently between the two of you.

There were now harsh pantings in the background and you groaned inwardly. You slapped Yuyeon’s thigh to finally get her attention. At the impact, she jumped up and glared at you. “I’m leaving,” you mouthed, not wanting to wait for her reply, but she stopped you abruptly.

“Are you okay?” she whispered in your ear, but the disturbing noises were blocking out each of her words.

You only managed to nod quickly before scooting off the bed and, while ignoring the curious stares of the other girls, you quickly made your way out, desperately searching for fresh air that would hopefully help you clear your foggy mind.

Once out in the corridor, you inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the feelings in your body. How could you become so easily affected by a simple picture? It was the stupid background noise, added your brain and you rolled your eyes. You needed to let out your frustration and even though it was hard to believe, you decided you would make good use of it.

You would go running. For the first time. By yourself.

><

When you reached the running track, the main headlights of the field were already turned off, throwing the space into a darkness lit up by surrounding street lamps. That was good enough, as you seeked some kind of hiding. Deciding to pour your frustrations into your challenge in jogging, you padded over to the running field, feeling the ground softer under your running shoes. There was a group of boys wrapping up a football game while a lone man, a student, was making laps, unbothered by the minimal lighting.Without paying anymore attention to your surroundings, you slowly increased your walking into a light jog, not wanting to strain yourself too much. 

Your hair was flowing behind you in a high ponytail while the remnants of winter were biting into your skin, making your cheeks and nose red. You tried to focus on your breathing, wanting to make sure you wouldn't mess it up and therefore increase your stamina but it was fruitless as your mind immediately wandered off to the picture of Baekhyun in that calendar. It effectively quickened your heartbeat and you grew warm all over your body.

After two laps though, you became quickly tired and out of breath, your lungs on fire. There was an uncomfortable, sharp feeling in your side, the pain dull but making moving difficult nonetheless. The man who had been running the whole time without stopping didn't seem to break a single sweat the whole time.

“Oh, isn't that Lee?” you heard the boys talking to each other as they finally managed to clear up the field.

“The one with the boobs?”

You were fast to roll your eyes, angry tears burning up in your eyes at their careless words. Screw them all. Instead of staying on the field, you went inside the gym next to the field to get some water and try to calm down. Even though it was cold outside, a cold drink would hopefully help quieten the small rage inside of you. People like those were the ones you despised. They didn’t know anything about you and, naturally, you didn’t know anything about them. Yet, you were constantly under their scrutiny and sexualized in more than one way.

“Idiots,” you murmured to yourself, your skin heating up at the change of temperature once you entered the small building.

As you were filling up your bottle with the cold water, you heard the jerks entering the gym as well. They were laughing and joking amongst each other, their throaty laughs reaching your sensitive ears.

Cursing under your breath, you finished filling the bottle and turned to leave, just to stand face to face with all of them. They were grouped up on you, smirking.

Without sparing them another glance, you moved to walk around them but someone grabbed your arm, yanking you backwards, your back hitting the wall next to the water filter. It took you off guard and you managed to hit your head, too, and you scrunched up your face, hissing. “You piece of shit,” you spat angrily, your rage growing more when you noticed the dude’s hungry eyes on your chest.

“You surely are feisty! We heard so much from the seniors about you,” one of them spoke up, his eyes barely visible as they were shaped like slits, thin like pupils of a cat in broad daylight. “We all know you like to go against the rules.” A round of snickers resonated the otherwise empty space and you felt your heartbeat pick up in fear.

“Okay,” was your blunt answer and you once again wanted to step aside but the same jerk grabbed your arm, bringing you back. You gritted your teeth.

“You ain’t leaving just yet, little kitten,” he murmured darkly and this time, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to escape. “We won’t do anything bad. Just give us a little show of what you’re hiding underneath that hoodie of yours.”

If someone was living in your body right now, they’d know in an instant something terrible was happening, for your legs were shaking like a jelly, becoming one with the asphalt and therefore making you unable to move. Despite that, you scoffed, stubbornly insisting on showing your confident side. Those idiots wanted a reaction from you, but you wouldn’t give in. “Then turn on some porn. Though I’m not sure you’re ready to see that either with your tiny, premature, out-of-control dicks,” you said in a levelled voice, cutting each word off to emphasize the meaning so that their small brains would understand. “You ain’t shit,” you added when you saw some dudes growing red.

“You little bitch-“

There was an unexpected shadow that swooshed past and just in that second, too many things happened at the same time; a familiar scent hitting your nose; a sound of skin slapping skin reverberated the empty space followed by a groan. “She said to leave her, so respect a lady’s wish,” a low growl reached your ears and you almost fainted when you spotted short blonde hair and a handsome profile. Even from the side you could detect he was glaring, a stern gaze bringing out his authority and dominance that would make anyone quiver and render into submission. “Just a tip for the future if you want to get your dick wet,” added mockingly Baekhyun. He was staring down the group of young students for a little longer, surprisingly none of them making a fuss, before Baekhyun looked down at you, your shocked expression making your eyes much bigger than they usually were. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait as he started to walk ahead, only a couple of steps later looking behind his shoulder to double check whether you were following him or not.

Your legs had a mind on their own when they moved after Baekhyun, but your heart was beating crazily fast, the unexpected presence of the only male who was able to make you speechless and make you go crazy at the same time still stunning you. Why was he there? How did he know where you were? Oh, was it because you wished to meet him again? If so, then you wished all your wishes would become true this fast.

He led you outside of the gym, the annoyed voices of the boys barely reaching you now that they were out of ear shot. Cold air hit the dried sweat on your skin, making you shiver. Baekhyun stopped abruptly when he reached the track again and turned to look at you with an unreadable gaze. His heavy breathing was condensing into small puffs, his nose a little red. The chilly air biting his cheeks made his eyes water. You couldn’t stop staring at him and at the way he looked in that moment.

“You should-“

“Thank you,” you muttered at the same time as he spoke up.

Both of you went quiet right away and awkwardness creeped into the space between the two of you. Growing red, you averted your gaze, looking at the ground and hoping your wild heart beat would calm down.

“You should have been more careful,” he finally told you quietly, ignoring your word of gratefulness. There was a slight scolding undertone in his voice. “Those jerks are little kids who think with their dicks.”

You grew even more red at his words. Baekhyun must have heard their stupid request. Your throat restricted and your heart once again started to beat loudly. “I would have been okay,” you insisted. “But thank you anyway.” You meant it. You really did. 

Baekhyun saw you averting your gaze again and he took the time to observe you. You were still too young, but he definitely noted the way your facial features matured, with each passing year turning you into more of a grown woman while leaving the teen girl behind. Your hair was long and it seemed you lost some weight in your cheeks. He couldn’t imagine how much of a hard time you were having the whole time he wasn't by your side. And then you had perverts following you around. 

He cursed mentally, hating the simplest idea of anyone imaging you in a more mature way than you let on to a plain eye. Those bastards should have been thankful he didn’t actually use fists as he so wished. Because when they asked you to undress, he swore white spots of anger were blinding him, his emotions a wild hurricane of rage and hatred. The only thing moving him forward was to protect you even though you would have hated it.

“Just be careful next time,” he added gently, his features softening.

You looked up at him upon detecting the tone of his voice. “What are you even doing here?” Just then you took notice of his outfit and you recognized it. He was the person running when you arrived. He had been here the entire time, but you were swimming in sweet obliviousness. And just like that, the picture of him in the calendar popped up in your mind, making you avert your eyes right away. Heat pinked your cheeks which Baekhyun mistook for the coldness biting your cheeks.

“I come here to run,” he told you in a somber voice. “And we also work out here with Sehun so if you think I followed you here, you’re wrong.”

“I didn’t think you followed me here,” you retorted, wanting to roll your eyes.

“Well, on the contrary, I didn’t know you run too,” he said, a hint of tease present in his voice, though he didn’t smile. Showing his relief of you communicating with him could be a strategic bad step on his side.

You sighed at the mention of running and the reason behind it. “I’m doing a race at the festival so I have to practice. I’m not enjoying it and I’m not doing it out of my own will.”

“Then why would you do it if you don’t want to do it?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Because I’m in the student council,” you replied almost in a whine. “They asked me and I couldn’t say no!” You threw your arms around, making it sound like a big deal. And for you, it was a big deal. You didn’t like how you were easily pushed around.

Baekhyun nodded, a small smile stretching his lips when he saw your comprehension. Sweet university life. “You must be very liked by everyone.”

You froze at that. That wasn’t true. How would you tell your ex the reason everyone was all over you was because you had huge tits and you were friends with Chul? “It’s not like that…”

Baekhyun nodded, noting your discomfort but deciding against questioning it. He didn’t think he was anywhere near the position to stick his nose into your business. For all he knew, he’d scare you away like that time in the bar but, frankly, he didn’t even utter a single word that night to give you a reason for your abrupt fleeing.

“So you run here often, huh,” he heard you say and then saw you shuffling your feet, the small stones of the track field rustling under them.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied almost breathily. There was an upcoming question hanging  in the air but he already forbade himself to hope.

You bit your lip harshly, bringing Baekhyun’s attention to the action. You were gnawing on it and you felt your body and mind betraying you. You were supposed to be mad at him. You despised this man standing in front of you so why was your heart beating frantically and, at his gentle tone, butterflies fluttering in your tummy? You felt warm just by his presence. He saved you. Yes, he didn’t even touch you, didn’t even take your hand like they do it in the movie. However, you witnessed the rage, the anger, the hatred, the need to fight but going against it so as not to cause problems. He cared about you, and he was still mature about it.

“Okay. Well, then, I guess I’ll see you around,” you muttered eventually, causing Baekhyun to deflate invisibly. An eager question cut through his mind: and when do you come to run here? I don’t like that you run here alone. 

“Where do you stay? I’ll take you home,” he spoke up casually.

“I live in the dorms, it’s no biggie,” you shrugged just when the group of boys flooded out of the gym, spotting you and Baekhyun. They were noisy once again and immediately took advantage of the situation when they shouted:

“If it isn’t the love birds! We thought you’d be home and fucking her by now but guess who didn’t get their dick wet now?” They laughed in unison, finding their words funny and mocking.

You pulled a disgusted face, though you reddened in embarrassment at their words, and looked up at Baekhyun who was glaring at them again. “Come, I’ll walk you to your dorms,” he muttered so that only you could hear and this time, he took a hold of your hand, his skin soft and a little dry in your sweaty palm. You were shocked at how quickly your hand clasped around his.

Cat calls reached the both of you as the boys approached you. “Woohoo, they are about to do it-“

Baekhyun was fast. Before you realized the warmth of his hand leaving yours, you heard a loud snap, his fist landing with the dude’s face. You squealed, covering your mouth in shock and just like that, Baekhyun had professionally put the lad down, having both his arms locked behind his back. It vastly made you remember when he did a similar move with your brother in his office at the police station, and chills ran down your spine.

Right. Baekhyun first arrested you, and then your brother who was still in jail until now. Baekhyun lied to you to get closer to you. Right. Right, right, right.

“Don’t ever even imagine her in your filthy mind,” Baekhyun’s voice thundered through the space. It kept growing more distant as you realized the hasty steps you were making backwards before you turned around and started speed walking out of the field and towards the dorms. Angry tears blocked out your vision and you quickly tried to rub your eyes, annoyed that you always let your tough stance sway whenever he was around. He dared to be kind to you. He dared to be soft to you. He dared to-

“Nari! Wait!”

Baekhyun was jogging towards you and your breath hitched in your throat, hearing his fast approaching steps. “Nari!”

Sooner than later he caught your wrist and wanted to stop you but you surprised him. You were now far off the field, not a single soul around. Your palm landed on his cheek and Baekhyun’s face snapped to his right side. “I hate you!” You shouted shakily, more tears spilling down your cheeks, the snot out of your nose. You were a mess. “I hate everything you put me through, Byun Baekhyun! You lied to me! Why did you lie to me?! I loved you!” You shouted again, and squeezed your eyes shut.

Baekhyun slowly turned his head back, your slap still stinging on his cheek. His eyes were wide but he knew exactly what was happening. “C’mon. Don’t hold back. Let it out. Hit me again,” he encouraged in a low tone that made you frustrated even more.

You were breathing raggedly and pushed him in the chest, making him stumble backwards. He could have easily fought you, he could easily stand still, not budging under you, but he let you. He knew you needed this to finally let go of your suppressed feelings and, hopefully, of the heavy past he made you go through. “You fucking liar! You fooled me, played with me, made me dream of something beautiful just for you to crash it! You ruined my family! I hate you! I hate you so much! You make me go crazy with hatred!!!”

Another strong push. He was surprised at how strong you actually were; when emotions spoke, people could be either extremely vulnerable or extremely strong. You seemed to be the opposite, for speaking up about your emotions made you scarily strong. “I hate that you made an idiot out of me! You fooled me and I trusted you the whole time! You locked up my brother! You did it in front of my eyes!! As if I didn’t matter shit to you! You were so fast to let me go when you thought I’m the criminal! That was all my worth to you!” you hiccuped, more cries taking over you as the painful memories kept swimming in front of your eyes, making you relive the emotions, the scenes. Those memories were blinding you and Baekhyun just let you open the Pandora box. You were breaking down.

It hit you too, that you never talked about your feelings. You couldn’t talk for a long while after being in shock at the events, and then you became one with ignorance towards your own emotions.

You took a deep breath and pushed him again just for you to lose your strength that was fueled by deep anger. Baekhyun couldn’t even pretend to step back. Your palms were still, pressing against his sturdy chest but you couldn’t make him move anymore. You were crying now, your voice shaking and your eyes still squeezed shut. “What did I do to deserve this… when all I did was love you honestly, purely,” you wailed, your voice sounding almost like a wolf’s howl in the empty streets of the campus. “I was just seventeen…”

Baekhyun was quiet the whole time, emotions of guilt eating him away just like they had been for the past year. His own heart was in pain and he knew how hurt you were but seeing you like this made his heart split into two. You were a complete, utter mess.

You didn’t know how much time passed without any of you speaking. The only thing you grew to realize was that you were in a tight embrace, the arms of your ex-lover protectively around you as his palm was drawing soothing circles into your back. His breathing seemed much more steady compared to yours, his scent filling your senses with comfort and familiarity you had been looking for ever since you met him a year ago. Your nose was on fire from crying, skin harshly clashing with the cold night air, but Baekhyun's presence made everything seem bearable. Even if it was just for a few minutes that you could pretend all was okay.

Squirming a bit, you moved away from him and he was fast to drop his arms, not wanting to upset you more. Your hand came up to wipe the tears and snot away, not caring you probably looked very un-ladylike in front of your eternal crush. “Leave.” You told him and turned around, heading towards the direction of your dorms. Your head was pounding, making you groan gently at the discomfort.

“Nari, wait,” he tried, making a step after you with a reached out hand but you turned your head as you walked, dismissing him with a single glance.

“I don’t want to listen right now.”

><><><><><><

A/N: sorry it took me a while to update. I hope some people were waiting and looking forward to this chapter even though it took me time ❤️ let me know your thoughts please? ^^

#exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #exo fanfiction #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo #CB #mywritings

[lunarsaga]

EPISODE 5: The Band of Seven, Resurrected

WELCOME TO EPISODE 5! So far, episode 6 is up on my Patreon already, and episode 7 is in progress. Support me on Patreon to see stuff first!

IMPORTANT: I am starting to integrate the art into the story a little differently! Instead of just visualizing a moment in the scene, the image will replace the lines it's depicting. It'll work more like a hybrid graphic novel, that way it'll flow better. (So don't skip over the art, read it like you would a western comic!)

Reminder: [Dialogue like this is English!]

EPISODE 5, LESSGO! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

It was a bit of a long flight between the bone-eater’s well and the spot where Luna last left her sister and her friends.

They were still headed northeast, still trying to find Naraku. But Luna’s supply of ammunition only lasted so long, and she decided she probably needed more medical supplies if they were all gonna make it past this war with Naraku. So she’d gone back to the modern era for a few days, and called Alice to get her connections with other Hunters in Japan—so Luna could make more Sacred Salt rounds without having to explain to international customs why she was getting a bunch of empty shotgun shells, non-native herbs, and a few other assorted (weird) things she needed.

So she’d gone home for a few days. Thankfully, she didn’t have to walk; Airisu (who still objected to Luna calling her ‘Alice’, but agreed to the simple nickname ‘Ai’) in full demon form could fly pretty fast, but she ran out of steam after about an hour. It took them a full day (including rest time) to get back to the village, and the same on the way back.

But before they joined back up with their friends, Luna had a stop to make.

It ain’t hard to miss, she thought snarkily, he’s like a damn homing beacon.

Finally, among all the green of the forests, she spotted a speck of white. Easy. “There they are!”

Ai set them down just behind the little group of travelers—Rin, the little imp Jaken, the big horse-dragon (Ah-Un, Luna believed?), and heading the line was, of course, Lord Fussy Britches himself. Rin spotted them before they touched down, and greeted delightfully:

“Miss Luna!”

The Hunter’s arrival brought the others to a halt, and for some reason, Luna found a very smug satisfaction in the incredibly irritated, over-the-shoulder side eye she got from Sesshomaru. But she paid him no mind; she was here for Rin.

Luna held out her hand, unfolding her fingers to reveal three beautiful pearls, strung on a little leather cord. Each of them glinted with an odd pink sheen and were warm to the touch; anyone with any sort of spiritual senses might’ve picked up on the soft energy radiating from them.

Luna tied the cord tightly at the ends and moved to slip it over the little girl’s head.

“As if she would ever need such a ridiculous thing!”

Luna swore one of these days, she was gonna drop kick that little frog. “Look, dude—”

“It’s Jaken, insolent human!”

“—I’m just looking out for her. No need to burst a blood vessel.”

“What is she to you?”

Luna was actually shocked to be addressed by Sesshomaru himself. He was still giving her the side eye, but there was less irritation and more of… something Luna couldn’t place. Maybe she was flirting with death, but she couldn’t resist.

She stood tall, chin high, and responded: “What is she to you?”

There was the anger: contained, but frigid and harsh as the Arctic behind those amber eyes. Sesshomaru did not answer her, but Jaken sure did.

“How dare you, human! Your nerve is surpassed only by your stupidity to speak to Lord Sesshomaru that way! Surely you wish for death!”

Only sometimes. “Can it, Kermit!” She snapped at him, “I ask because he’s always leaving her alone, with nothing but you to protect her! You, who are half her size and don’t have much in the way of defense!” She moved her challenging gaze to Sesshomaru again, steadfast. “So I ask again, what is she to you, if you leave her with barely any protection so often? Because to me, she’s a friend and I care about her, so I brought her these as a last resort option, in case you’re not around and she needs help.”

There it was, that unreadable expression again. Sesshomaru was definitely incomparable at hiding his true emotions—something Luna could absolutely not stand. Tense silence hung in the air for a moment, before Luna shrugged, holding her hands up.

“Hey, think of it this way,” She said, trying a sly little smile, “You’re a busy guy. It’s one less thing you have to worry about. And if she never needs them, at least it’s a pretty necklace.”

Man, this guy was good at keeping quiet. But now, the icy glare was gone. Luna swore she could see just the tiniest arc of a silver eyebrow before the demon turned back around on the path they’d all been heading.

“Jaken, let’s go.”

Flabbergasted, Jaken tripped over himself trying to follow. “Y-yes milord!”

Grinning, Luna got back down to Rin’s level. “You take care, okay kid?”

“I will! And thank you so much for these— I don’t think I’ll need them because Lord Sesshomaru always comes to save me, but I’ll wear them anyway!”

“That’s all I ask,” This little angel was definitely gonna need it at some point. “But if you do need me, I’ll always be there for you, okay? I promise.”

The smile on Rin’s face could’ve melted the ice caps. “Thank you.”

Luna stopped her as she started to leave. “Hold on, one more thing. Each one only works once before it shatters, so you gotta save them for when you’re really in trouble, okay?”

“Okay, I will! Bye, Miss Luna!” Rin grinned, waving at her friend before hurrying after the demons.

Luna chuckled, turning back to Ai for a second before something occurred to her. “Hey, Sesshomaru!”

He didn’t turn to look at her this time, but he did pause in his walking.

Good enough. “I heard there was something going down in the Northeast—direction of the Ox and Tiger. Something to do with Naraku. Thought you might like to know.” She didn’t wait to see if he heard or registered what she said; she just hopped back on Ai’s back, and the two of them took off.

“I hope you know conflating bravery with stupid pride is more than likely to get you killed one of these days.” Ai said as she lifted into the sky.

“Oh most definitely,” Luna laughed. “But as much of a pompous man-child as he is, you can tell he cares for that girl more than he’s willing to admit.”

“That may be, but he’ll definitely kill you if you keep disrespecting him.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, for Rin’s sake.” Luna’s voice was soft, carried off by the wind. “That little angel’s been through enough, she deserves someone in her corner.”

~    ~    ~

Finally catching sight of their friends again was a bit of a relief for both Luna and Ai. It had been a long couple of days, going all the way home and coming back. Part of Luna hoped they’d get just a little bit of rest before whatever shit hit the fan next, but another part knew the odds on that were pretty low. Still, it was nice to be back.

Kagome was the first to spot them as they flew in. “It’s Luna!”

“Luna’s back!” Shippo proclaimed joyfully.

“Hey, y’all,” Luna greeted as Ai touched down. She hopped off the demon’s back as her friends offered their greetings. “What’d I miss?” She asked.

Miroku was the one to answer. “Quite a lot. It seems that we may encounter a new enemy: the local villagers recently informed us of a group of mercenaries called the Band of Seven. The villagers believe these ruthless killers may have been brought back from the dead.”

With a grin on her face, Luna shrugged at the idea. “Undead mercs, huh? Nothin’ we can’t handle.” She held up her fist for her sister to bump it, and as Ai changed back to her human form, Luna noticed their little group was smaller than it should’ve been. “Where’s Sango?”

Kagome bumped fists with her sister, smiling at Luna’s nonchalant comment. “She went off with Kilala. I sensed a Jewel Shard nearby earlier… so I think she may have gone to look for Kohaku.”

Luna didn’t have time to respond. Off in the distance, she heard the distinctive echo of a sound she was all too familiar with.

Inuyasha hopped up onto a tree limb, hoping to get a look at what was happening. He couldn’t see it, but he sure as hell could smell it. “And it ain’t from just a handful of people, either.”

So much for a second to rest, Luna chuckled to herself as she tightened the straps on her backpack and immediately kicked into gear. “What’re we waiting for, then?”

And off they were, charging headlong into danger as always. Luna could sense something was up; more so than usual. The stench of blood was never a good sign in the first place, but there was something else setting off warning bells. Something she couldn’t put a finger on.

The smell got stronger and stronger, until… they reached its source. Despite the amount of nasty shit she’d seen in her ten years of hunting supernatural monsters, there were some things that still turned her stomach, and seeing a single human being standing in a veritable ring of blood and gore was definitely one of them. His black hair was pulled into a twist; his lips were painted red, he had blue tattoos like tear tracks under each eye, and one side of his kimono was tucked up under his belt. The dude was just squatting in the middle of the carnage, eyeballing the barrel of a matchlock gun like it was his first time seeing one (which, hell, it might be, she thought to herself; in this time, they would’ve only recently been invented). He seemed completely unbothered by the dozen and a half bodies of freshly murdered warriors and their horses surrounding him.

Inuyasha was the one to get to the scene just ahead of the others, calling back over his shoulder: “Stay back! Don’t come over here!”

Instinctively, Luna remained in front of her sister, her arm out to try and block her view. Her stomach was churning, and her hand was poised to pull her gun if needed. No way this guy could be human… right?

“Did… that one person do all this?” Kagome’s voice was a shocked whisper.

It was then that the guy in the middle noticed them. He stood, his sword over his shoulder and his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Are you the one I’ve been looking for?” He asked, a grin on his face as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Are you Inuyasha?!”

“Got a bad feeling about this.” Luna mumbled, “That guy isn't a demon, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” Kagome uttered back to her, “I don’t sense a demonic aura….”

“How’d you know my name?!” Inuyasha demanded.

He got no answer out of the guy with the sword. Instead, the guy squealed: “You’re adorable!”

A dumbfounded silence fell over the group. Luna glanced around at the others to make sure she didn’t just lose her mind—but no, the general consensus among her friends was along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck?’

“I especially love those fuzzy ears of yours!” The guy continued, licking his lips. “I want them~”

Alright, so this guy was nuts. Luna had had enough of ignoring the bad vibe she was picking up from him. She dropped her bag next to Kagome’s bike and readied herself for a fight: detached the ammo bag and shotgun holster from her pack and slung them over her shoulder, slipped her short sword through one of the belt loops on her jeans, and pulled her shotgun to make sure it was in hand and loaded. She kept her eyes moving back and forth between Inuyasha and the dude with the sword during the next exchange:

“Who are you?” Inuyasha demanded, “What are you after? You don’t smell like a living person, you reek like corpses and graveyard soil!”

No answer.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku said in realization: “Could he be—?”

“Yep,” Inuyasha confirmed, before calling out to the guy with the sword again: “Some villagers were talking! They said some disgusting specter rose up from the grave. That’d be you, I presume!”

Right, zombies, Luna thought to herself; if he really is undead, the Sacred Salt won’t do as much as it would a demon… It’d sting, but what I really need is-… She smirked and holstered her gun again, grabbing a different weapon from the bottom of her bag.

“Are you one of the Band of Seven?!” Miroku asked of the specter as Luna was tuning back in. “Answer me!”

After a long pause as the specter seemed to size the monk up, his response was even worse than before. “Inuyasha really is good looking, but you’re pretty sexy yourself~”

Luna snorted so hard she thought she was gonna eject her brain through her nose. Ai whacked her in the arm as a warning.

“No one minds if I suck him up, do they?” Miroku grumbled.

“No.” Inuyasha said, flatly.

“Hold on!” Kagome said, “He’s got a Sacred Jewel Shard! He must’ve been revived with the power of the Shard!”

“So that was what I was sensing,” Luna mumbled, “but why does it feel off...?”

“Where’d you get the Jewel Shard?!” Inuyasha once again attempted to pose a question to their opponent, only to once again receive a weird, adoring response:

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry~!”

“Shut up!” Inuyasha shouted, jumping forward and drawing his sword. “Alright, dead man, you’d better start talking to me, and I want real answers!”

The expression on the specter’s face shifted from one of reverence to one more sadistic as he regarded Tetsusaiga. “That’s an interesting sword you have there… let’s see whose is stronger.” He lifted his own sword, making an odd motion around his head and shoulders with it as if he were gearing up for something. “Yours or mine?!”

When he brought his arm down, something that looked almost like a bolt of silver lightning shot from his blade. Inuyasha barely had the chance to block it as it cut an arc through the air toward him.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome called out in surprise.

“Stay back!” Miroku threw his arm out in an attempt to shield the others. “It’s some kind of trick sword!”

“That’s my cue!” Ai shifted into full demon form, jerking her head at the sisters and the little fox. “All aboard!”

Kagome climbed on no issue, but Luna glanced at Miroku, who made no move to follow them. “You coming?”

“I’ll be alright, you keep them safe.” Miroku said, resolute. Not about to argue, Luna climbed on the demon’s back and Ai leapt into the air above the fight.

“You gonna be okay holding all of us after that long flight?” Luna asked her friend.

“I’m fine, it’s the same weight as you with your pack on.” Ai sassed back.

“Yeah well, fuck me for being prepared,” Luna laughed, starting to prep the other weapon she’d brought.

Kagome managed to tear her eyes from the confrontation below to try and see what her sister was doing. “What did you bring, Luna?”

Luna grinned as she clicked the last accessory into place, then turned back to show her sister. “This? This is my baby.” She held up her favorite weapon: it was a fully-customized folding compound crossbow as long as Luna’s arm. She pressed a release on the side, and the arms shot into place, making both Shippo and Kagome jump.

“Whoa!” The fox demon exclaimed, “What kind of a weapon is that?!”

“It’s a crossbow, Shippo,” Kagome explained, “It’s kind of like my bow, but the arrows are smaller and it’s easier to fire.”

“Self-loading, too,” Luna smirked as she strung it up, “The ‘arrows’ are called bolts or darts. This thing can shoot way faster than a longbow, and since we’re dealing with Zombie Harley Quinn down there—” She grabbed a bolt from her ammo bag to show it to them, “—we’re gonna need these. They’re tipped with pure silver. Great for dealing with Vampires, Werewolves, The Undead, and The Unholy.”

Shippo reached out to touch it, but Kagome stopped him, shaking her head rapidly. “It’s safe to assume you shouldn’t touch anything Luna has in her bag, Shippo.”

The kid swallowed nervously. “G-got it...”

Below them, the fight continued. Inuyasha could barely avoid each strike of the snakelike sword, and his opponent only seemed to be having more and more fun.

“What do you think of Jakotsu of the Band of Seven, huh?!” He shouted as he swung the sword once more.

“Not too much!” Inuyasha came back at him with Tetsusaiga, but to no avail.

Kagome gasped. “He needs help!”

“That’s what this baby’s for,” Luna grinned, patting her crossbow. “Ai, can you stay out of reach of the sword but get me close enough to shoot?!”

“It’ll take a miracle!”

“Better start praying, then,” Luna lined up the shot, finger still as stone on the trigger. There was a familiar voice in the back of her head; she could hear her father saying: “Aim for where they’re gonna be, not where they are.”

I know, dad. She tried not to sigh audibly as she managed to get Jakotsu’s head in her crosshairs and pulled the trigger, quick as a viper.

And… almost missed him.

The consecrated silver bolt seemed to burn through the air as it shot just centimeters shy of the specter’s nose and grazed his arm, burning a hole in his kimono. He whipped his attention to the woman who shot it.

“How dare you interfere?!” He snarled, rearing his arm back and whipping his blade toward them.

Luna felt her stomach drop.

“You idiot!” Ai snapped at her, trying to fly out of range of the sword as Kagome and Shippo both clung, screaming, to Luna’s back. Just as the sword arched toward them, there was a familiar cry of:

“HIRAIKOTSU!”

And Jakotsu’s blade was then tangled around the aforementioned boomerang. All three riding on Ai’s back sighed in relief when they saw Sango swoop in on Kilala. Ai touched down just as Kilala did, transforming into her human form and unceremoniously dumping the sisters on their asses.

“Are you all okay?” Sango called over to them.

“We’re fine!” Shippo answered.

“Perfect timing, Sango!” Kagome said.

“Some weapon, Luna!” Ai huffed in the Hunter’s direction. Luna just stuck her tongue at her.

Jakotsu was practically red in the face, shrieking in frustration: “What is with all you vile women?! Can’t you see I’m trying to battle Inuyasha?!” In the same breath, he whipped his sword again, toward Sango this time. The movement freed Hiraikotsu, and ended up leaving a small slice on Sango’s arm as Jakotsu pulled it back.

“Stay out of this!” He continued, “None of you will interfere!”

But their “interference” had served Inuyasha well enough: it gave him just the opportunity he needed to rear back and punch the specter in the face.

“Shut up! I’m tired of listening to your pointless babble!” Inuyasha growled.

Jakotsu grunted as he tumbled back, then rubbed his cheek and pouted like a kicked puppy. “That was cruel…”

“Oh, get over it!” Inuyasha snapped, “Now tell me who gave you the Sacred Jewel Shard before I have to seriously hurt you!”

Kagome and Miroku rushed to see if Sango was okay, but she assured them that it was just a graze; she was fine. Her attention was more on the subject at hand.

“I have a feeling that the shard came from Naraku,” She said, somberly. She looked at Kagome. “When you sensed a Jewel Shard earlier… it was Kohaku. I saw the Saimiyosho around him as well.”

“That means that your brother is still under Naraku’s control…” Miroku said. Sango nodded.

Luna had set her weapon down next to her backpack, and came back with a bandage for Sango’s arm. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how the hell they were gonna handle this—first an undead band of Ronin, now they have something to do with Naraku. What was Naraku playing at...?

“Gotta wonder what the hell is next…” Luna mumbled sarcastically.

Seconds later, she would regret asking. A cloud of black smoke poured over the cliffside, drifting right toward them.

Like he knew what was happening, Jakotsu got up and collected his sword. “Inuyasha! You should get out of here while you can! Bye!” And with that, he was just… gone.

“What the hell—” Inuyasha broke off with a startled yell when the cloud reached him. “Its poison!”

“But where’s it coming from?!” Miroku wondered.

“We need to move.” Luna reassembled her bag in less than thirty seconds—side effect of doing it so often. “We can figure out what the hell is going on when we’re safely away from here!”

Why do I feel like we stepped into something huge here? Luna thought to herself as the group of friends moved away from the cloud of gas.

#fanfic #inuyasha oc #inuyasha au #the lunar saga #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha #sesshomaru #sango #miroku #shippo

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Hesitant

note: this is a request from @jaketapperstan, I hope you like it :)

words: 3k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut

enjoy :)

„Oh my god, I love that song. “your colleague exclaimed, grabbing you hand as she tried to drag you to the dance floor.

You rolled your eyes at her, staying rooted to the spot.

“Sorry, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. I don’t want to make a fool of myself after only three months here.” you called over the sound of the music.

First and foremost, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of him. Your boss, Jake Tapper, had been a constant presence in your mind since you first set eyes on him.

You had known him, from watching his shows, of course, but meeting the man in person had been an entirely different thing.

//

“Jake, come over and meet Y/N. She’s the newest member of our production team, it’s her first day today.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when he approached you. He was tall, and surprisingly casual without a tie, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up. You almost didn’t recognize him. But it was the air of effortless confidence that surrounded the man that instantly made you feel drawn to him.

“Pleasure to meet you and welcome to the team.” Jake said, shaking your hand, the grasp of his large hand firm around your much smaller one. You felt like his eyes looked right into your soul, and you weren’t sure if you enjoyed being perceived by this man.

You awkwardly mumbled a reply, something about how grateful you were for this opportunity and that you were looking forward to working here.

Jake replied something, but you didn’t listen, you were too captivated by his face and the way it got lit up by his smile .

//

The crush you had developed in that moment had only grown stronger in the three months you were working at CNN now.

It was infuriating, you could barely function like a normal human being around him. The fact that he was your boss, and therefore totally unattainable made everything so much worse. You loved your job, no way you would ever put it on the line by hitting on Jake Tapper.

But no matter how often you told that to yourself, every time he entered a room, your heart rate instantly went up and your stomach dropped.

In conversations, you, usually blessed with a quick mouth, got shy and awkward, stumbling over your words like a teenager in front of her first crush. His presence just rendered you completely useless.

Frankly, it was embarrassing, and there was no need to add to that by dancing tonight and risking him seeing it.

It was the 40th birthday of some senior producer, and he had invited the whole team to celebrate with him at a great club in downtown DC.

You weren’t usually a big club goer, but it was nice enough and some drinks had relaxed you enough to aimlessly sway around to the rhythm of the music.

Suddenly, you could make out a too familiar voice over the noise of the crowd, and a chill went through you.

“Enjoying the party, Y/N?”

It was Jake. He had shed his anchor attire and was wearing a black button-down shirt you had never seen on him before. His hair was tousled and there was a faint blush on his cheeks that indicated that he already had his fair share of drinks.

He leaned against the wall beside you, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him so relaxed and informal, no sign of his usually composed behavior. It was slightly unsettling, but he looked so sexy that you couldn’t tear your eyes off him.

“It’s alright, I guess. I’m not a big party person. How about you?”

You tried your best to speak over the music without screaming at Jake.

He leaned down a bit, angling his head closer to yours.

“I really like the company.” He said, and the timbre of his voice made shiver.

“Tell me, Y/N, how have you been? We barely had any chance to talk to each other in the last weeks.”

You weren’t sure if the warmth spreading through your body was because of the alcohol or Jakes close proximity, probably a mixture of both. But it definitely made it hard to focus on anything apart from his body, now only about a foot away from yours.

“Uhm, yeah, it’s been great, thanks for asking, I appreciate it.” you murmured.

“Do you wanna go somewhere in the back where it’s quiet? We could talk there?” Jake suggested.

Your heart was picking up speed, being alone with him was dangerous territory. But the drinks you had gave you the necessary courage to nod and follow him to one of the booths in the far back of the bar, where the music wasn’t as ear-piercing.

Instead of sitting down opposite from you, Jake slid in the seat next to you, close enough that his leg was brushing against yours. He was so comfortable around that it was easy to forget that he was still your superior.

“So,” he spoke, turning his body to face you “why do you spend the party on the sideline talking to old men like me instead of dancing with your friends?”

“Stop it, you’re not old. And it’s because I don’t like dancing, I look like an idiot.” You paused a moment. “And I enjoy talking to you.”

It was true, despite your awkward stammering, the conversations you had managed to have with Jake had always been great, he was a good listener and an even better talker. He had a way of making even the most trivial facts sound memorable and interesting.

“That’s good for me, I guess. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing you on the dance floor but having you all to myself for a change is nice.” Jake replied, and the way he was talking to you radiated an easy confidence that was simply captivating.

You could feel the heat creep up your neck, he looked at you like he had really meant what he said, even in the dim light of the bar you could see that glint in his eyes. He was clearly hitting on you, and that fact was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

“What do you want to know, then? Not that you have me all for yourself?” You asked, putting on a nonchalant face to hide your inner turmoil.

Jake laid one of his arms on the backrest behind you, his hand just hovering over you. You shivered slightly, not from cold but from having Jakes fingers that close to the bare skin of your shoulder. He was clearly doing this on purpose, and it worked.

“Oh, I wanna know everything about you.” He murmured, and his hand reached out to let his fingers trail across the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Feeling his touch made your body shiver and your mind go blank, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

The burning longing in your stomach intensified and knew that you had to put a stop to this right now, before things got out of control.

You had never crushed on anyone so hard, but he was your boss. You repeated those words over and over in your head to prevent yourself from simply leaning into Jake and take him up on whatever he was offering you. You couldn’t just hook up with him in a bar while he was so obviously drunk.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I have to go now.” You tried to make your voice sound steady, and resolute, even if you wanted nothing more than for Jake to just grab you and make you stay with him for the rest of the night.

Jake looked taken aback, but still got out of his seat, making room for you to step out of the booth.

“Everything alright?” he asked, “You need someone to take you home?”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you on Monday, have a good rest of the night.” You rambled, before all but fleeing the bar without saying goodbye to anyone else.

You walked almost a block before you stopped, taking some deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

You just had a far from innocent encounter with your boss, and now you wanted him even more.

+++

You had spent the whole weekend dreading going back to work on Monday.

You weren’t sure which outcome was worse, Jake being offended by the rejection or the possibility that he regretted even trying to hit on you.

Also, you couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if you had taken him up on the offer. Maybe you could’ve spent your weekend tangled up in the sheets with him, but was a one-night stand, even with Jake Tapper, really worth risking your job? Definitely not.

At work, you tried to avoid any contact with Jake, arriving last minute to the morning briefing and fleeing the room the second he dismissed the team. During the show, your eyes stayed glued to your tablet, even if you weren’t able to make sense of a single thing you were reading, your thoughts circled entirely around Jake.

After you wrapped the show, you left the studio in a hurry, trying to make it back to your work space, but a familiar voice calling out your name stopped you in your tracks.

For a moment, you considered ignoring it, but you couldn’t just not answer to your boss, so you stopped and turned around to face him.

Jakes expression was unreadable, his voice serious as he addressed you.

“Would you please join me in my office for a minute, Y/N?”

You just mumbled something in agreement and followed him, the nervousness almost making you sick too your stomach.

Closing the door of his office behind you, Jake sighted and leaned against his desk. For the first time that day, you really looked at him and realized how tired and worn out he looked.

He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“Look, Y/N, I really have to apologize. What I did the other night was not only absolutely unprofessional, but it also clearly made you uncomfortable. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I had too much to drink, and I was reading the signals wrong. I thought you might feel the same but I know that’s not an excuse. Just let me tell you that I am really, really sorry, and if you don’t feel comfortable working around me any longer, I promise that I will find you an amazing spot on another show, just say so.” He was rambling by now and looked like a beaten dog.

Your head was spinning, him being sorry wasn’t something you had expected. And what was he even talking about you feeling the same? You had to clear this up, the poor man was absolutely devastated.

“Jake, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, not in the slightest. And I would never want to work for anyone else.”

You took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Your advances weren’t unwelcome. I was just so hesitant, because you’re my boss and everything. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to just hook up with you at a party, our work relationship is too important.”

Jake raised his head, a look of absolute surprise on his face.

“So you’re not feeling like I harassed you?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh my god, no!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out a tad too loud, but you didn’t care.

Jake breathed in relief before approaching you, putting a hand on your arm. Goosebumps started to break out over your body when he spoke again, his voice deeper and smoother this time.

“Who said I just wanted to hook up with you? Why do you think I haven’t had my eyes on you from the moment you stepped through these doors? What gave you the idea I haven’t waited for the right moment the entire time?”

“You have?” you whispered, staring up into his eyes. He didn’t answer, instead he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. You were starstruck for a moment, unable to move a single muscle, but when Jakes hand came to rest on your lower back to pull you against him, you softened under him and leaned into his body.

He broke the kiss to softly stroke your jaw and down your neck with a single finger, and you unconsciously tilted your head to give him better access.

“Is this really a good idea?” you breathed, not trusting your voice right now.

“Assuming you want this as much as I do, I’d say this is a damn good idea.” Jake responded, and hearing this encouraged you to reach out and start to loosen his tie.

His eyebrows surged up and a smug grin started to spread over his face, making him look much more like the guy from the bar instead of your serious news anchor boss.

“You mean here, right now?” he murmured. “Ok, fine with me, baby, just let me lock the door real quick.”

As soon as he had turned the lock, he was on you in a heartbeat, kissing you much harder now, his teeth softly biting your bottom lip. He buried his hands in your hair, tugging on the strands while you unbuttoned his dress shirt with shaky fingers, a task that got increasingly difficult when his distracting hands wandered lower to squeeze your ass through your skirt. You moaned against his mouth and he slowly pushed you back until your back hit the edge of his desk.

Jake shrugged his shirt of his shoulders and made quick work of your sweater as well. He stepped out of his shoes and trousers, but his eyes stayed on you, pupils blown, taking in your trembling form.

“You are so gorgeous, Y/N. Take off that skirt for me.” He murmured, and you moved like on autopilot, already so aroused that he could’ve told you to do literally anything.

“The bra as well, baby.” Jakes voice was already slightly strained, but still had that commanding edge that made you reach behind you to unclasp your bra.

It fell to the floor and Jakes hand were on your breasts a moment later, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You let out a small whimper, arching your back and grinding your core against the bulge in Jakes boxers.

“Jake, please.”

“Please what, Y/N? What do you want?” Jake cooed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Instead of answering him, you swiftly pulled his boxers down his legs and wrapped your hands around his hard length, giving a firm stroke that made him curse under his breath.

He grabbed your ass to lift you up onto the desk behind you. Your panties were off before you knew it, and any sense of shame you might have felt about being naked on top of your bosses’ papers was forgotten when his huge hands roughly spread your thighs to step between them, the tip of his cock teasing you before he slid into you with one hard thrust.

You hastily slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle your scream that would’ve probably alarmed the entire office.

He filled you perfectly and instantly started slamming into you with deep strokes. There was a loud clatter as several items fell off Jakes desk, but neither of you seemed to notice, both lost in the pleasure the other one was giving.

“Shit, I’ve wanted this for months.” Jake grunted, “I knew you would feel amazing.”

You could only whimper in response, your hands now looking for something to hold on as Jake deepened his thrusts, using his tight grab on your hips to pull you flush against him with each slam of his hips.

He looked like a man undone above you, his hair was a mess and there was a look of such heated arousal on his face, it felt like his eyes were burning into you. It was intoxicating.

“Jake.” You whispered. “You feel so fucking good. Please don’t stop.”

“The next time I’ll fuck you, it’s going to be somewhere the walls are thicker. I want to hear you scream my name. “Jake growled, reaching between your legs to press down onto your throbbing clit. When he pinched you bud between his fingers, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks .

You came with a cry that was swallowed by Jakes mouth crashing onto yours as he followed you over the edge, and you held onto each other, riding out the highs of your shared climax.

“Fuck. Wow.” you panted as soon as Jake let go of you.

“Yeah, wow.” He agreed and wiped some sweat off his forehead before carefully pulling out and stepping back to help you climb off the table. He was still catching his breath, looking around the office in search of his clothes.

“Sorry about that.” You muttered, pointing to the mess of papers and files that had fallen off his desk and were now scattered across the floor along with various items of clothing and something that looked a lot like Jakes desk light. “I think we broke your lamp as well.”

“Definitely worth it.” He chuckled and pulled you into another kiss. “Can’t believe that just happened.” He whispered. “I was so afraid I had scared you off with my behavior.”

“Jake, it’s alright, it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy the attention.” You said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. Your heart was still racing, you mind trying to make sense of what just happened while you collected your underwear, being naked in that situation suddenly made you feel kind of vulnerable.

Jake was still watching you warily as he started to put on his clothes as well.

“Y/N, like I said, this really isn’t some quick hookup for me.” He took a deep breath. “Let me take you out tonight? No pressure, no expectations, we just talk and see what happens. What do you think?”

“I agree, I’m curious if you can still flirt with me without several drinks to ease the way.” You replied, chuckling and reaching out to fix Jakes tie.

You had no idea where your sudden feeling of ease came from, but there was no way you would miss the opportunity of having an actual date with Jake Tapper.

And who knew, maybe he could become something more than just your boss.

#jake tapper imagine #Jake tapper #jake tapper fic #jake tapper x reader #request #cnn #cnn anchors #fanfiction

[lady-o-ren]

THE HUNGER OF MY HEART

//PROLOGUE// //PART ONE// PART TWO

PART THREE

For easier reading here’s the link for ao3 (X)

Jamie stepped into the Lallybroch stables and whistled melodically through his teeth. A wide-browed grey horse poked his head out from the corner stall, hitching his ears forward as he blew excitedly through his nostrils.

"Cobhar, ciamar a tha thu?" Said Jamie fondly, firmly patting the long dappled neck of the horse and scratching behind his ears. "Di' ye miss me, my wee laddie?"

Nothing was wee about Cobhar. He was a good-tempered, but spirited 14-hand gelding that had been the first foal that Jamie's father let him care for when he was a lad, still mourning his mother and needing distraction.

Cobhar's big head came down and mouthed affectionately at Jamie's curls then cheeks in greeting, as he always had done, then descended down to his knuckles, eager for the sweet treat he could smell hiding in his palm. 

"Och, ye miss being spoilt is all then? Didn'a think of me once while I was gone, di' ye?" 

Cobhar huffed impatiently and nudged his head against Jamie's chest, nibbling at the buttons, while swishing his dirt-blonde tail side to side.

"A'right, laddie," Jamie chuckled, patting him again. "Here ye go. No need to knock me over." The stallion's soft velvet lips plucked the whole apple from out his opened palm and devoured it in one loud and juicy crunch.

"Fattening auld Cobhar a'ready, Jamie?"

Jamie grinned ear to ear as he looked aside to see his best friend, and now brother-in-law, Ian, amble up beside him. He was tall and whipcord lean and strong, with an honest, good-natured face about him that had captured his sister, Jenny's heart when they were naught but bairns.

"Ye're one to talk, Ian. My sister didn'a get big as a house on her own, di' she?" 

Face a rich blush, Ian laughed and bashfully scratched his nose, crooked from when Jamie broke it years before, having found him and Jenny in the most compromising of ways.

"Still a wee shite, Fraser. And still redder than a roosters arse," said Ian, as he playfully smacked the back of Jamie's head.

As had everyone else in the family since he arrived back home. His uncle's, aunties and brutally by his beloved godfather, Murtagh, for being away from Lallybroch for so long. But the real blackening had come from Jenny, a feat for a pregnant woman who had once been no bigger than his thumb. Thank Christ, he had a skull made of solid stone (though as predicted she had embraced soon after and kissed him more than what was decent for a sister to).

Rubbing the multitude of throbbing black and blue bumps on his head (but after having given Ian a hard punch to his shoulder), Jamie spotted what looked to be an envelope under his brother-in-law's arm.

"Plan on feeling the bills to the white sow, Ian?"

Ian looked at him quizzically before making an "O" with his mouth and pulled the envelope out.

"It came yesterday, before you di'," said Ian, handing it over to Jamie, who curiously flipped it over.

It was a letter actually. He grinned, almost laughing, as it was addressed to James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser and had been tied thoughtfully with twine and a sprig of greenery embedded (accidentally?) in its bow that he brushed a blunt forefinger to.

It was from Claire.

Jamie glanced up to see Ian smirking at him and felt his ears blush hot.

"Ye're damn lucky I saw that before yer sister di'. She'd be holding it up to the light and steaming the seams open."

"She'd do no such thing," Jamie retorted, with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Yer wife would tear it open wi' her teeth and wave it in my face."

"That she would," Ian agreed with a chest shaking chuckle. "But our lass is a bloodhound and will find out sooner than not about the puir lass that ye've set yer heart upon."

The last was said almost in question. A hope that maybe Jamie had found a way to balm his wearied heart, knowing that his travels were not just a simple bout of wanderlust and the outlandish reason why. He had the look of a man now awakened, as if he'd been reborn. Something Ian himself had experienced the day Janet Fraser gave him his first kiss at the tender age of six and had never recovered from.

Nor had his nose.

Jamie met Ian's hazel eyed gaze.

"Her name's Claire," he beamed, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice that rivaled the reverence of a prayer to the creator above. "I met her in London a week ago. Spent every second I could wi' her."

And leaving the woman of his dreams had been like having his heart cleaved in two.

"Then you'll have to write to me," Claire had said, beneath her gates woven green with ivy, having clasped her fingers to his, while her other hand held his arm as if to draw him back to her marvelous world.

"Letters, ye mean?" He gulped, having felt himself sway to her power.

She nodded. "I prefer it. I can't stand the ringing and pinging of a telephone. Will you, Jamie?" Her voice had sounded unsure as if it were indeed possible he could ever refuse her. 

"Who do I address it to?" He had smiled, while grazing a tentative thumb to the back of her palm.  "The funny house no one can see at the end of nowhere street?"

"You're a smart one." She pulled her hand away to tap his nose but had let her caress linger innocently, cluelessly, down his ginger stubbled cheek as he shivered with desire, wanting to kiss the base of her thumb, count her freckles with his mouth. "Address it to this empty lot and your letter will find me. Just don't be forever." 

Jamie had pressed his hand over hers, not knowing if he could ever let her go, feeling his breath stitch tight.

"Then until I see ye again, Sassenach."

She glowed at the name he'd given her the day they'd met. Had told him before it suited her better than even her given one.

Jamie hadn't agreed with that at all and wanted to tell her what Claire was in the Ghàidhlig.

One day he would.

Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart.

Tha gaol agam ort

But apparently a day had been far too long for her.

"I think she's the one," Jamie continued on, in almost startling disbelief as he grinned like the lovesick fool he was. "The one that's been calling for me all these years." 

"Christ, man! She's real?!" Ian gripped his shoulder, matching his excitement. "Should we be expecting yer Claire for hogmanay with a wee one of yer own?"

Before Jamie could stutter a heart racing answer to that query, the two were interrupted by Jenny hollering for them. 

“D’ye two want yer dinner, or shall I feed it to the dogs!?” 

Said dogs, Luke and Elphin, Mars and auld Bran, howled in answer while Jamie groaned at his sister's impeccable timing.

Ian slapped his back though and gave his dearest friend and bràthair an encouraging smile and waggle of his dark brows. "Read the damn letter, man. I'll take care of yer sister. Just remember when yer wean's born to name him after me, aye?" 

After watching Ian depart with a wink, Jamie threw a long leg over Cobhar's stall door (shushing the nosey beast with a promise of sugar cubes) and settled himself low in the hay. 

After pocketing the bit of green to his breast pocket with a delicate hand, he carefully untied the twine and opened Claire's letter. The sweet fragrance of elderflowers and chamomile kissed the page where a simple request was written that had Jamie hopping over the stall door and running towards Lallybroch, with his pack of dogs yapping at his heels.

My Dear Jamie,

At the end of the week I'll be in Edinburgh.

Join me?

//

"Are ye ever going to tell me what's in this thing, Sassenach?"

Up and down the winding streets of Edinburgh, past the many sloping buildings and cafes and bitty book shops stacked beside one another, Jamie had been carrying a heavy and ornate wooden chest for Claire as she walked ahead of him, looking for the shop to deliver it to.  

She glanced over her shoulder at him and her young apprentice, Elias, beside him, who'd taken quite a shine to the older Scotsman. He too had been tasked with carrying a package. It was strapped to his back, a long leather cylinder that could've held anything from mundane documents to a treasure map. Jamie wasn't sure at all.

"It's not for me to say. Besides it would only worry your dreams." 

"That doesna make me feel any better," Jamie murmured, staring warily at what he held in his arms which amused Claire greatly enough to bite her posey lush lips from laughing.

"Then pretend it's a cake box."

Elias snorted, catching Jamie's attention.

"Ye ken what's in this thing don't ye, mo charaid?" 

"Aye - I mean yes. But -" Elias flicked his round eyes to his mistress's straight back then cupped his hand to his round cheek. "I'll tell you later. It's downright awful and I nearly lost my -" 

"You know I can hear you both? I'm not that old."

"And how old is that?" Jamie asked half teasing, half with genuine curiosity, while Elias pinked, snorting loudly once more.

Claire stopped in her tracks and spun on her heels, cutting a look at the younger lad who quickly cowered behind the much taller man.

"I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria but not the Bonnie Prince. Is that enough for you?" She replied flatly, crossing her arms.

Jamie went a bit bug-eyed, mentally counting the decades since the little Queen's reign. Then his wide mouth twitched.

"And ye say ye're no' a witch?" 

Claire rolled her eyes and continued walking but a smile had peeked on her lips that encouraged Jamie to tease her more.

"Ye ken," he began, walking beside her now and shifting the weight of the chest as he did so. "There are auld highland tales that say curls wild as yers are the mark of a Ban-druidh, and that the crows favor them to make their nests."

She tugged at her dark locks and watched as they bounced back on release with utter disdain written on her face.

"They're more of a tumbleweed curse if you ask me," she frowned, making Jamie quickly regret his words.

"I didna mean it that way, Sassenach. Truly. Yer curls are lovely. They're like the ripples in a burn when the rain and leaves fall upon it. Luminous as the sky rich in twilight.  And yer eyes, Christ, they're. . ." 

Jamie's voice trailed off when he realized they'd stopped walking and had the wide-eyed attention of both Elias and Claire. 

As well as everyone else on the street alongside them. 

How loudly had he been blabbering?

But then a smile of pure delight broke across Claire's face, reflecting brightly in her eyes, as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, only for another far more impetuous to take its place.

"How has no one snatched up a charmer like you, Jamie?"

One had. A very oblivious one.

Jamie sheepishly shrugged and found unparalleled interest in the engravings of the wooden box he carried as his face blazed the very color of his beating heart. He looked very much like a schoolboy.

Unnoticed by them though was dear Elias, whose sea-grey eyes darted between them both, grinning sweet as pie.

Walking down another street, Claire finally announced they had arrived, and the men, sore footed and muscle strained, sighed in relief. 

The shop exterior was hard wood and painted coal black while the door was a dark and flaking green. And written in gold on the long framed window beside the door, Jamie read to himself

THE WITHERED BONE 

Potions // Trinkets // Antiques

 & 

The Finest Biscuits This Side of the Black Realm

"Biscuits?" Jamie murmured, knotting his brow. "What kind of shop is this? Like yers, Sassenach?"

"Not necessarily," she said, hand hesitant on the brass doorknob. "For one it's in plain sight. But if you want to call anyone a witch the three who own this place would fit the bill. I think they even have a cauldron."

"They do. I saw it with - uh, nevermind,"  Elias choked at the last, blushing beet red.

Claire arched her brow. "Now Elias -" 

"I know, ma'am," he drawled, fiddling with the strap over his chest. "Stay away from Ms. Annalise and keep to your side."

"And Jamie -"

He looked at her smiling wryly. "Ms. Annalise?"

"Shut up," she said, playfully swatting his arm. "You stay at the front of the shop. There's nothing there that can bite your nose off."

Claire then ushered them both through the door.

Inside, it was a cluttered jumble of anything and everything. An elaborate display of lost treasures from Africa to France and most prominently the Jacobite resistance in all its doomed glory. There was an array of vintage costume jewelry, stacked stop tables against the walls and racks of overflowing clothing a group of young girls were pawing through, where one in particular, all flaxen hair and big doe eyes, was swaying to the melancholy chords of a record that crackled softly in the background.

What makes you think love will end?

When you know that my whole life depends 

On you

It was a tune Jamie remembered his parents dancing to. His mother had been wrapped in his father's arms as he nuzzled her cheek, softly mouthing the words against her skin. The young girl hummed it too as she gazed dreamily at a dress in her hands.

Overhead hung a simple iron chandelier that seemed to have been ripped straight from a castle's dungeon, dripping hot candle wax to a metal bowl placed on the hardwood floors. One burning drop fell down Jamie's neck as he walked beneath them, that had him cursing underbreath as he scrunched his shoulders and knocked his knee into a table, rattling the knickknacks.

"Ye break it ye buy it, laddie," came a voice from the front of the shop. "I'll take cash and the blood of yer first born."

"Oh, Geilie," said Claire and crossed over to the counter, leaning over the glass display of dirks and sgian dhu (with a cookie jar atop) to kiss a rather wicked to the bone looking redhead's cheek. "You are terrible." 

"It wasn'a as if I lied," Geilie snickered, turning her attention first to young Elias who flinched under her unnerving gaze then to Jamie, blatantly raking over his physique before Claire stepped into her view.

"Who's the clumsy stag ye've brought wi' ye, Claire?"

"A friend who I very much like as he is. No twitching your nose or feeding him your biscuits." She then mumbled to Jamie at her shoulder. "Hansel and Gretel, remember?" 

"Ye're never any fun," she pouted, then pointed her chin. "Have ye a name, stag?" 

"Jamie," he replied simply, not at all trusting the unsettling woman before him with more than that.

"Weel then, Jamie, ye can leave that in the corner there and you," she looked at Elias with a devilish grin as she propped her chin on her hand and drummed her fingers to her cheek. "Louise will be waiting downstairs fer ye, Annalise too. But ye kent that aye?"

While the young lad experienced a sudden shortness of breath, Jamie set the delivery down and rather dumbly asked, "What's downstairs?" 

Geilie's eyes shimmered like the feral beast whose blood she probably bathed in, chilling Jamie down to his bones.

"Why? Are ye needin' an ill-wish like the wee lasses over there." She gestured over to the girls taking their leave. "Mebbe something far more entertaining and lethal like a summoning? Those require a blood sacrifice, ken. Nothing so tender as yer sweet lass here wi' her trade of bits and bobs.

She wasn't kidding. 

Jamie glanced at the doorway that led downstairs, carved with cabbalistic symbols. A faint whiff of bitter herbs wafted through a pigeon blood red curtain that shadowed it, mingling with a coppery tang he could taste on his tongue, tainting the air. It churned his wame with sick.

"Or are ye wantin' - Oh!" She quickly shot a strange and startled look over to Claire.

"Leave him be, Geilie," Claire chided, unaware of the questions in her sometimes friend's eyes as she threw all her attention on Jamie.

"We'll only be a minute," she assured him with a hand running down his arm, sending a shock of steadying warmth through him that he knew came from someplace bewitching within her. "And don't worry about Geilie, she won't touch a hair on your head when she knows I can shrivel hers like a prune."

Jamie smiled at his own Ban-druidh. Must've whispered it too, to deserve the pinch she gave him before leaving  with Elias downstairs to the witch's grisly lair.

"I ken what yer after, mo bhalaich," came Geilie's voice, softly speaking to him as if he were a friend. "I can see it festering in ye like hemlock, yer love fer the Sassenach."

Jamie nervously glanced over to the doorway. "I dinna ken what yer on about, woman." 

"Dinna bother hidin' it, no' like she can see it anyhow. She hasn't the heart fer it, ye see. Hers was taken by her old master, the wee frog, who lived in that house of hers before she di'. She hasn'a a clue where it is, doesn'a even ken it's missin', and wi'out it she canna love ye back."

"Why - Why should I believe you?"  Jamie asked haltingly, for his throat was being strangled by his heart, ripped from beneath his ribs.

"Why would I lie, ye puir wee fool? Save yerself, getaway, or that love ye carry will swallow ye whole, heart and soul and breath."

Only when she touched the tender spot on his chest did Jamie realize he was bent over the counter a hair's breadth away from the witch, close enough to see the harsh and earnest truth pooling in her eyes.

 Then she pushed him away. 

"All done," said Claire, coming through the curtain, and cast her gaze between the two in front of her.

"What have you two been doing?" She waved a finger at them both.

"Oh, a little talking is all. Nothing more," grinned Geilie, face a mask of perfect innocence.  

Claire hummed, believing otherwise and tried to make light of whatever she saw troubling Jamie's face. "You should know whatever Geilie told you, it's probably only half as bad or twice as worst,"  

"Och, I'm sure of it, Sassenach. Shall we go?" Jamie said hurriedly, not meeting her eye. Trying to forget what the witch had said. 

She slowly nodded, her face lined with concern, but tucked her slender arm through his and gave Geilie a half-hearted goodbye. Immediately,  Jamie felt the blood in his veins flow to his heart now beating in its proper place and air return to his lungs. 

But somewhere deep inside himself, Jamie could feel the beginnings of a rotting ache bloom and take root. He was already too far gone.

"You didn't eat the biscuits did you." 

He managed a weak chuckle and swallowed. "No lass." But then he swiveled his head. "Where's the wee lad?" 

In five seconds flat, Claire had Elias by his arm like a child, his face a burning fever red and eyes bowed to the ground with Ms. Annalise leaning at the doorway, a beguiling smile on her face.

No time is wasted that makes  two people friends

//

THANK YOU to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!!

!!MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Now Author Notes

*First off sorry for all the messy mistakes and eye gouging writing

*Thanks to @soinspiredbyyou/ @mo-nighean-rouge for help with the line tweaking "Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart." Although hers was actually better "Perhaps preceded by a phrase stirring in his heart" but preceded sounded too smart and too good for my dummy words.

*The descriptions of Cobhar are from the book cause I don't know anything about horses.

*The song is Never My Love

*I may come back and fiddle with this chapter but I really wanted to get this done before Christmas.

*Next chapter will be the last

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

[army-author]

jungkook scenario | the village idiots

❝ Only an idiot would lose their soulmate. Yet this is exactly what you’ve managed to do. In your small village rumours travel fast, and it’s soon whispered on all the street corners that Jungkook is destined to be with you. That only makes his visit home at Christmas all the more awkward for you… ❞

➸ prompt: I returned to my childhood town for the holidays. You’re my estranged childhood friend, and - wow! - you grew up to be hot!

➸ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➸ warnings: mild swearing

➸ requested by anon | 15k words | fluff, mild angst, childhood friends au, soulmate au

➸ author’s note: can you believe I actually got something written in time for christmas, because I can’t!? I hope you all enjoy it! I combined some of my favourite tropes, since I have no self control. I hope you enjoy fluff with a serious chance of diabetes! (and sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes! I’m pretty tired!)

[Sixteen Years Ago]

The soulmate system is easy. Only an idiot could loose their soulmate.

Yet, this is exactly what you manage to do at the age of three. All when a boy, the same age as you, with black hair falling into his dark eyes, rams into you on his tricycle. And your soulmate watch falls off before you can even read what it says, or know when you were supposed to meet your soulmate.

Broken. That’s what you think it is. Not just your watch. But you, yourself - broken. You’re destined to never pair with anyone else. A complex thought for a three-year-old to grapple with.

This is how you get into that predicament:

It’s your first day of nursery school. You’re walking through the playground, clutching at your mother’s hand, and glancing around at the faces of all the new children, with a strange mixture of curiosity and nerves brewing inside you.

All you can focus on is the void of noise swallowing up your eardrums, as children scream around you. Their faces blend together in unfamiliarity as they run by. Yet, you know that you should be looking out for their faces, catching their eyes in the reflection of your own. That’s how you’re meant to meet your soulmate. You don’t know much about the world at the age of three – you don’t even know how to read properly yet – but you know how soulmates find one another. When your eyes meet, your watches, which have been counting down to this fateful moment, will fall off, and you’ll both realise that this is the person you’ve been waiting for.

Your mother has explained it all to you – telling you that soulmates are like best friends that stay with you forever. You don’t quite understand it, but you know that you want a best friend forever.

That’s why you can’t wait until you can read. More specifically, you can’t wait until you can read the time written on your watch, and find out how long your wait will be – how long your forever best friend will have you waiting for their appearance.

You keep asking your mother if she can read your watch for you, tell you when you should expect your soulmate, and every time she patiently explains that only the wearer of the watch can read the timer on it.

“You’ll just have to be patient, sweetie,” your mother says every time you bombard her with questions.

You’ve been trying to teach yourself numbers so you can read the watch as soon as possible, asking your parents any time you pass a sign with a number - “What’s that one? What does that mean?”

But at the age of three, reading a watch is just a little too complicated for you. Much to your frustration.

“Never mind, sweetie,” your mother says when she finds you staring gloomily at your watch  - a regular occurrence “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“But mum,” you always whine, “What if I’m meant to meet my soulmate before I can even read my watch?”

“Well,” your mum wraps an arm around your shoulder, “It’s very rare that soulmates meet each other at such a young age. But if it does happen to you – you’ll know because your watch will fall off, and someone else’s watch will fall off as well – that person will be your soulmate.”

You nod, burying your face in her sweater, smelling of baking bread and primroses, like she always does. It sounds so simple when she explains it like that.

But it’s not simple. Not for you at least.

You grip your mother’s hand, as she leads you across the playground, towards your nursery school. The children around you are all so noisy. As you search the faces around you, you feel at the watch on your wrist, still clasped on tightly. None of them are your soulmate then.

As you walk on, a young boy zooms past you on a tricycle, stopping you in your tracks, watching after him as he flies by, wheels skidding on the gravel of the playground.

“They should really watch where they’re going,” your mother eyes a group of boys, following after the first boy on their tricycles.

You turn your eyes to them, wary, as they rumble noisily towards you.

Your gaze fixes on one boy, laughing as he pedals faster and faster, his black hair pushed back off his forehead as he gains speed, his face cracking up with laughter, his friends skidding around him. He’s going faster and faster, pedals pushing the wheels harder, to the point that you think he might leave the ground.  The whirring of his wheels fills your ears, as he careens forward. All too late you realise he’s careening towards you.

It happens in slow motion.

His eyes turn to you, widening. You can see your scared face reflected in his dark pupils.

BANG!

You’re on the ground. You know that before you open your eyes. You can feel the scratch of gravel against your cheek.

You sit up slowly, looking up. The boy is standing over you, worry clouding his eyes. He’s saying something to you. He seems on the verge of tears.

Blinking past him, you see your mother bending over you. A group of curious children has formed around you. You frown, fixing your eyes on your mother’s lips as she speaks at you, your senses slowly trickling back, firing messages to your brain. “Are you alright, sweetie?”

You nod. You don’t feel hurt, just shocked. You lift your hand to clutch onto your mother’s for reassurance. Your wrist feels lighter than normal. You frown, blinking away the fog from your brain.

Your mother helps you to your feet, brushing the dirt off your shirt for you.

“I’m so sorry,” the boy who crashed into you is beside you, wringing his hands together, and biting his lips. “Are you okay?”

When you don’t answer, he turns to your mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Your mother nods her head. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

As your mother leads you by the hand, away from the crowd of children and towards the nursery school, murmuring about getting you cleaned up, the boy follows behind you, not seeming to believe your mother’s assertion that you’re okay.

But you don’t feel okay. Something is wrong. The light feeling at your wrist is letting you know.

You dig your heels into the ground, pulling your mother to a stop. “M-my watch.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What’s that?” Your mother’s brow furrows, turning her gaze to your own worried expression.

“My watch. I lost it.” You pull up your sleeve to check what you already know. It’s gone.

“Oh, it must have fallen off when you fell over,” your mother says, as you drag her back the way you’ve come.

Your eyes scan the grey of the gravel, yawning back blankly at your searching eyes, as you trace the area, until a glimmer catches your gaze. The unmistakable silver of a watch, glinting by the base of a plant pot at the nursery school entrance, a few feet from the spot you fell.

You dart across to retrieve it, desperate to put it back on, where it can go back to doing its job of counting down the days until you meet your soulmate. You get the sense that if it isn’t on your wrist it will stop working. Turning the it over, your eyes fall on the watch face, where a crack perfectly separates the glass in half, splitting it across the centre. The numbers on the watch aren’t moving any more, no longer counting down, just large gaping circles staring back at you.

Your eyes start to sting, as you try to put the watch back on, fiddling with the clasp. Your fingers feel as slippery as butter. But despite your desperate attempts, the watch keeps sliding off, tumbling back to the ground with a sad clinking.

“I think it’s broken,” your voice shakes, as you stare up at your mother, hoping that she’ll have some grown-up solution. “It won’t go back on.”

Your mother frowns, leaning down to try and help you with the clasp, but her well practiced hands still can’t affix the watch to your wrist.

“What do the numbers say?” she asks you, a note of urgency in her voice.

“I – I’m not sure,” you stammer.

Behind you, the boy who knocked you down is still hanging around. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“My soulmate watch…” you hold it up to show him the cracked face.

“Is it meant to look like that?” the boy asks, wrinkling his nose at the shattered glass.

“No,” tears begin to stream down your face as the reality of the situation hits you, “It’s broken. It’s broken because of you.” Before thinking, you step forward, and push the boy in the chest, so that he wobbles back on unsteady legs.

His face crumples. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“It’s your fault,” you continue, voice raising as you move towards him, your fists flailing at him in frustration, “You broke it, you broke it!”

And so, your nursery school teacher comes out to find you and the young boy in a snivelling heap on the ground, both crying, as you throw punches at his chest, and he wards off your attacks with arms raised over himself in self-defence.

“Alright, break it up!” You feel a hand grabbing around your arm, pulling you away, and you stare up at the face of your new teacher. “What is the meaning of this?”

Faced with an angry grown-up, you only sob harder, overcome with anger.

Your mother steps forward. “I am so so sorry. She’s not normally like this.”

The teacher raises an eyebrow. “Is this your daughter?”

Your mother nods her head.

“Care to explain why she’s starting fights?”

“He hit me on his tricycle,” you shout out, before your mother can answer.

“It was an accident,” the boy sniffles.

“And he broke my soulmate watch,” you continue, kicking out, trying to reach the boy again.

The teacher’s grip around your arm gets tighter. “Alright. Be that as it may, that’s still no reason to get violent.”

It takes a lot of pulling to get you inside, and seated on a chair across from the boy, as your mother and the teacher watch you apologise to the boy. The teacher makes the two of you shake hands, which you do rather reluctantly.

“So, you say that your soulmate watch fell off,” the teacher says, bending down to look into your face after the performed rigmarole of apologising for fighting.

You nod, struggling to meet her gaze.

“And that it’s broken.”

Another nod.

“You’re sure that it didn’t just fall off because you’ve met your soulmate?”

In all the turbulence, that thought hadn’t occurred to you. You don’t answer.

“Did any other child happen to lose a watch around the same time?” your teacher presses.

You shrug, shoulders heaving up and down. You don’t know. In all the confusion you didn’t notice anything but the ringing in your ears and the erratic beating of your own heart.

There were so many new faces around you when your watch fell off. Any one of those children could have been the one. You don’t know. You didn’t get a sense in your heart, like you had expected you would, knowing instinctively who your soulmate was. All the children were strangers to you – no one stood out.

The teacher nods, as if she’s decided something. “I’ll check with the rest of the children. Don’t you worry. We’ll find your soulmate, no trouble.”

She heads out of the room, towards the playground, and your mother ushers you out after her. You’re aware of the boy following behind you. You’re already beginning to feel bad about your outburst, but despite all instincts, you refuse to turn around and acknowledge him.

Outside, your teacher is rounding up the children, herding them into a disorderly line, where she holds up your broken watch in front of them. You watch it glinting in her hand, heartstrings pulled taught.

“Listen up,” the teacher’s voice booms out, commanding the children’s attention, “I have an important question for everyone. One of the children here had their watch fall off. Which means they might have met their soulmate. Now, I need you to answer truthfully. Did anyone else’s soulmate watch fall off this morning?”

The children remain silent, some pulling at their jumper hems, some chewing on their fingers.

“No one?” The teacher’s eyes scan the group.

Some children check their wrists, but no one steps forward.

The teacher turns back to your mother, handing your watch back. “Sorry. It was worth a try.”

A cold settles in your stomach. No soulmate. What does that mean?

“I’m so sorry.” Behind you, you hear the voice of the boy who knocked you over. “I really didn’t mean to break your watch.”

You shrug. You’re too drained to be angry any more. “It was just an accident.”

The boy nods. “Do – do you still think we could be friends after that?”

This catches you off guard. You didn’t expect to go from fighting him with your fists, to getting an offering of friendship. Maybe violence really is the answer, despite what your mother always says.

“I guess,” you pretend to think over the boy’s question, “We can be friends if you really want.”

The boy’s face lights up, and you realise you aren’t angry any more. “My name’s Jeon Jungkook,” he says, smile scrunching up his face.

That’s how the two of you become friends.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

Everyone says that Jeon Jungkook is your soulmate.

In a small village rumours travel quickly, and the story of the girl who lost her soulmate at nursery school has travelled well around the small streets in the many years since it happened.

You’re not so sure. Maybe there’s a chance Jungkook is your soulmate. After all, it’s a strange coincidence that he lost his soulmate as well. But he couldn’t have known that when he first ran into you. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him. Surely, if you were meant to be together, you would be with him now. Soulmates will find a way to be with each other. That’s what your mother has taught you to believe. If Jungkook was your soulmate he would be here.

Yet he isn’t. He’s far way. On the other side of the country, living with his dad. And you’re stuck in your small village, serving beers to the locals at your nearest pub, making some money over the Christmas holidays. Despite being old enough to live independently, you still haven’t moved from the village, attending the local university, and living in a small house an old family friend rents out to you. When you imagined going to university, you didn’t expect to be living so close to your old childhood home. But life doesn’t always go the way you expect.

You sigh as another customer turns away from the bar, beer in hand, walking slowly back to their table – the classic, ‘I really don’t want to spill my drink’ walk. You can’t help but glance at your watch. It’s a simple one, the kind that tells the time, not a soulmate watch. It’s twenty minutes to midnight. You knew your shifts would be late when you started this part time job, but the sleepless nights still get to you. You stifle a yawn.

Despite everything wrong with this job, at least it’s a good distraction this time of year. Christmas is the worst holiday for you. Having no soulmate, you’re left to sit alone, while couples that have been busy working all year spend quality time together, snuggled up from the cold, leaving you frozen, with no one to thaw you out.

At least in this pub most of the people you serve are groups of young friends, rather than couples, so you don’t have your lack of soulmate rubbed in your face.

The door of the pub opens, dragging you from your moping. A smile spreads across your face as you recognise the face.

“Taehyung!”

He shakes rain water from his hair as he walks up the bar, unwinding his scarf. “Hello!” He leans on the counter, smiling, “Thought I’d pop in to see how you’re doing.”

You smile, grateful for the distraction – some stimulation to keep you awake. “i’m doing fine. Nothing to complain about.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “No complaining? That’s not like you.”

You make a swipe at him across the table, and he ducks your lunge, tutting:

“If you’re going to physically abuse me, you won’t be getting a tip.”

“You weren’t going to tip me anyway,” you call him out.

“You got me there.”

“So, what’s new with you?” You lean on the bar, taking some of the weight off your feet. Your worn trainers were a poor choice for tonight, with soles barely there to support you.

“Nothing much,” Taehyung says, “Although I have some news that might interest you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Taehyung slams his palms against the counter, in an impromptu drum roll. “I’ve been messaging Jungkook recently. Apparently he’s visiting here for the holidays. To see his mum again.”

That name has piqued your interest. You try not to sound too invested. “Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, and you blush. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Don’t,” you warn.

Too late – he’s going down that rabbit hole. “Are you excited to see your estranged soulmate?”

You shake your head, “You don’t really believe he’s my soulmate?”

“Why not?” Taehyung pouts at you, “Both of you lost your soulmates. In a small village like this that can’t be coincidence.”

“Yes it can. We have no idea when Jungkook lost his soulmate,” you remind him, “So I’m not going to accept that he’s my soulmate, just because he happens to be lacking a soulmate too.”

“Well,” Taehyung pushes off from the counter, standing up straight, “Maybe you’ll figure out that you’re destined to be together when he shows up tomorrow.”

You open and shut your mouth, unsure how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve seen Jungkook, and now he’s being thrust back into your life. For so long he’s just been a name whispered in conjunction with your own by old ladies gossiping on street corners - “She’s the one who lost her soulmate, you know?” “Is that so?” “I heard her soulmate is supposed to be that Jeon boy.”

“I’ll tell him to drop into the pub and say hello,” Taehyung says with a wink, moving towards the door.

“You… you don’t have to,” you call after him, but the door is already swinging shut behind him, and with your brain slamming back to reality, you realise that it’s gone past midnight, and you should be closing up the pub.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Sixteen Years Ago]

You sit with Jungkook on the swings in your local park. It’s been a few weeks since he clattered into you on his tricycle, and the ordeal is mostly forgotten – apart from your now bare wrist.

Jungkook is crunching on a chocolate biscuit, while you stare across enviously at his snacks. On the other side of the park, your neighbour Taehyung is spinning himself around on the roundabout. His laughter floats through to you on the still air.

Jungkook catches your eyes, glued to his biscuits. Wordlessly, he reaches across the gap between you, to offer you one. As he stretches across, you notice:

“You don’t have a watch, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks down at his bare wrist, as Taehyung wobbles off the roundabout, and precariously makes his way towards you, unstable on his feet.

“Does that mean you’ve found your soulmate already?” you ask, curiosity fizzing inside you.

“What you taking about?” Taehyung asks, leaning himself against the metal frame holding the swings, steadying himself.

“Jungkook doesn’t have a soulmate watch,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung stares across in mild curiosity at your new friend.

“I’m not allowed to wear my watch,” Jungkook explains, licking at his fingers to get the last of the biscuit crumbs.

“Not allowed?” You wrinkle your brow, confused. “Why?”

Jungkook huffs out his cheeks, and begins reciting, like his parents probably always tell him, “I’ll be given my soulmate watch when I’m old enough to understand the significance of having a soulmate. My parents say that children aren’t old enough to get soulmates.”

“But…” you chew on your lips, cogs turning in your brain, “What if you’re supposed to meet your soulmate before your parents let you wear your watch? What if you miss them because of that?” You’re thinking of your own soulmate, who you may have lost because of a faulty watch. You don’t want your new friend to be subject to the same fate.

Jungkook shrugs. “If that happens, my parents wouldn’t want me to be with my soulmate anyways. They say I’m too young for a relationship like that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “They seem strict.”

Jungkook nods glumly.

“When will you be old enough for a soulmate,” you ask.

“When I’m fifteen.”

Your jaw drops. That seems like an eternity away for your young brain. You can barely comprehend being five years old, let alone fifteen. “That’s so long!”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well, my parents didn’t meet each other until they were in their late twenties, and they say that’s the best age to meet your soulmate.”

Suddenly, Taehyung, who’s been silent for an uncharacteristically long time, lets out a loud gasp. “Hey!” He turns to you. “Didn’t you lose your watch recently?”

You nod your head, confused by his visible excitement.

“What if you two are soulmates?” Taehyung blurts, finger flicking back and forth between you and Jungkook, like he’s doing some complicated maths in his head – one plus one equals soulmates.

Jungkook glances at you, then wrinkles his nose, “Ew, no way. She’s not my soulmate. She’s my friend.”

“She can be both,” Taehyung says with the authority of a child that’s one year older than you.

“No way,” Jungkook sticks out his tongue, “You have to kiss soulmates, and give them hugs, and be in love with them, and all that stuff’s yucky.”

You nod, “Yeah, Taehyung. There’s no way Jungkook’s my soulmate. I punched him when I first met him. And if he was my real soulmate I wouldn’t have punched him, would I?” This logic makes sense to you. Soulmates never punch each other upon meeting. It should be love at first sight, right? With you, it was frustration at first sight.

Taehyung shrugs. “You could still be soulmates.”

“No way!” You and Jungkook both exclaim at the same time, and then both yell, “Jinx!” at each other and keep repeating, “Jinx! Jinx Jinx!” while Taehyung rolls his eyes at you.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You hold back a yawn, feeling it tugging at your jaw, tempting, as you wave off another set of customers. This evening of work has felt particularly long. It’s been quiet, with only a small group of friends laughing over card games in the corner, and occasionally coming up for another round of drinks. You’ve spent most of your time perched behind the bar, scrolling through your phone, and willing the hours to pass quicker. At the back of your mind, you remember Taehyung’s promise to send Jungkook your way. But as the clock counts closer to midnight, your hope of seeing him is fading.

Your head snaps up when you hear the door opening – a new customer. The orange glare of the streetlights shines into the pub, reflecting off the wet pavement beyond the door. Through the artificial light, steps a figure you can’t take your eyes from. You know his face, familiar, yet strangely different – like buying your favourite brand of chocolate, only to discover that the company’s changed the recipe.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you’re left an incompetent mess, unable to say anything but his name as he stands in front of you, loosening the buttons on his coat.

“Hey,” he smiles at you.

He’s changed so much from the last time you saw him, you’re almost surprised you recognised him. Yet there’s something still familiar in the twinkle of his dark diamond eyes, and the scrunch of his nose as his smile eases wider. His hair is longer, falling across his face, framing his cheeks in ebony.

Jungkook has grown up to be – you’ll be damned for thinking this – incredibly hot.

You swallow down this thought, embarrassed it entered your head. This is Jungkook – your childhood friend. You can still envision him when he was old enough to be picking worms out of the mud. You shouldn’t be thinking like this about him.

It occurs to you that you’ve been standing staring for far too long – more than is ever socially acceptable. But he hasn’t said anything to you. And you haven’t said anything to him either, and now it’s awkward.

You take a breath to speak, just as he opens his mouth, and you both stutter to silence again. You indicate with your hand – he should go first, but he shakes his head firmly, and nods your way – you should go first, and you both mime back and forth at each other that the other should speak, until at last you break, saying:

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, squinting at the drinks behind the bar, “Uh… just… water will be fine.”

You raise your brow. “Nothing more exciting for you?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “No. I don’t handle my drinks very well. And I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of you after just meeting you again.”

You laugh, and grab him a glass from behind the bar, filling it with water. Over the counter, he continues:

“I hope you don’t think that I came into this pub just for the water.”

You slide his cup across the counter to him. “Didn’t you?”

“No,” he fumbles in his coat for his wallet, eyes still on you, “Taehyung told me you’d be here.”

“Tap water’s free by the way,” you say, as Jungkook rifles through his wallet.

“Oh, right.” He chokes on a laugh, “My brain’s like mush tonight.”

You smile sympathetically, “I know the feeling. Having to stay up for work most nights has left me with only two functioning brain cells.”

Jungkook chuckles at this, a genuine smile carving out his face.

Rather than taking his drink and going, Jungkook stays standing in front of you, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“You too.” You can’t fight off a smile. Seeing Jungkook is filling you with the warmth of your childhood spent with him, all flooding back in a rush of lazy days lounging on the grass, and running around the village park, swinging yourself off swings, and trying to make each other sick on the roundabout.

You’re excited to talk to Jungkook, until you hear the pub door opening. Normally you’d be glad of a new customer, but Jungkook’s a special customer – the only one you want to pay attention to.

“Listen,” you speak up as Jungkook takes hold of his glass, “I’ll be finished work in about fifteen minutes. If you’d like to stick around until then, we could… I don’t know… go for a walk or something. Get a chance to chat – catch up.”

Jungkook nods, and steps out of the way to let your new customers forward to order. “I’ll be here,” he promises, before turning away to find himself a seat.

As you serve your new customers, you can’t help but smile, excitement bubbling through your veins at the prospect of getting to spend some time with Jungkook.

As you keep working, cleaning up behind the bar, your eyes keep dancing back to Jungkook, where he sits in the corner, watching his old village out the window and sipping his water. Once or twice, his eyes find yours, watching him, and you quickly pull your gaze away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. The fleeting eye contact pulls your heart into a tight knot.

At last, the final customer leaves, and you can slip out from behind the bar to flip over the sing on the door to read ‘CLOSED”. With a final check that everything behind the bar is in order, you grab your coat, and head over to the table Jungkook’s sat at.

“Hey.”

He looks up at your voice, a smile spreading across his face. “You done now?”

You nod, and Jungkook chuckles:

“Stupid question. Sorry.”

He stands up quickly, bumping into the table as he does so, and laughing again, as he collects his coat and scarf from the back of his chair, and pulls them on.

As you open up the door, letting him out, a gust of cold air bursts in, stealing the breath from your throat. You pull your coat tight around you, hoping to block out the icy wind as you step into the street.

“Where to?” you ask, and Jungkook shrugs:

“You know this place better than I do.”

“You probably still know it pretty well. This place has barely changed since you left,” you say, picking a random direction, and leading him down the pavement.

“I suppose it hasn’t,” Jungkook observes, “I was expecting it to be different to how I remembered, but it’s almost the exact same… Well, except everyone’s gotten older, and some of the buildings look a bit worse for wear.”

“That’s just how it is here,” you say, “There’s never any change. In some ways it’s charming because of that. But it’s also….”

“Boring?” Jungkook suggests.

“Yeah,” you huff out a puff of misted air, “It’s boring.”

Jungkook nods, pressing his lips together. Silence falls between you, and the wind blows harder, roaring against your frozen ears.

“Listen,” Jungkook shoves his hands into the depths of his pockets as he speaks, “This should probably have been the first thing I said to you. But I guess I’m doing it now instead. I need to say I’m sorry.”

You pause on your path, steps faltering. “Why are you apologising to me?”

“I should have messaged you while we were apart,” Jungkook says, “I lost your number, and then, when it eventually turned up it felt like I had left it too long to pick up any kind of conversation with you, so I chickened out and never ended up calling at all.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. I could have always asked Taehyung for your number. I knew he had it. But I never did. I guess I worried he might think it was weird, me chasing after your number like that… It was stupid of me.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, pretty stupid. Not any worse than me. I should have just called you anyway.”

You laugh. “Yep – we’re both idiots. You especially.”

“Hey,” Jungkook brushes against you with his shoulder, gently bumping you, “That’s mean.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bump him back, “You know I only tease because I like you.”

Glancing over, you see him smiling at the pavement. “Yeah. I really missed you, you know?”

“Me too,” you say.

Around the corner, the old park that you used to play at as kids emerges.

“Oh, no way,” Jungkook stops in front of it, eyes gleaming, “This is just how I remember it.”

“It’s another thing that hasn’t changed here,” you stop beside him, hesitating in front of a panorama of childhood memories that rush back with the shape of the small slide and the squeak of the swings as they move in the wind.

Jungkook turns to you, nose scrunching up in childish glee. “Shall we? For old time’s sake?”

You grin back. “Yeah!”

The gate creaks as Jungkook opens it, just as it always did, swinging closed with a clang.

Jungkook runs over to the swings, and you chase after him, taking up the swing seat beside him. Kicking yourself off with a push of your heels, the world around you swings back and forth as the sky looms closer, then falls away again. If you reach up at the highest point of your swing, you feel you could catch the clouds in your hands, melt them on your fingers.

“This brings back memories,” Jungkook says, swinging back and forth beside you, in the opposite direction to you, so you only occasionally catch sight of his face, looking back at you.

You hum in agreement, but the wind snatches away the sound, so you reply, “Yes, it does.”

Your mind falls back to the many times you would come here after school, laughing at inside jokes that didn’t makes sense to anyone but you and Jungkook, the many experiences you had here with Jungkook – the time that you fell off the swing, and scraped your knee, and he helped you back to your house; the time that you spent all your pocket money on sweets, which you then ate, sitting on the climbing frame, until you were nearly sick from the sugar. You fingers feel strangely hot on the cold metal of the swing chains as you remember the last time you sat with Jungkook on these swings, right before he left your village. Your cheeks heat up.

The both of you are silent. You wonder if Jungkook is remembering the same moment you are – if you should bring it up.

At last, Jungkook cracks the silence. “You know… Taehyung keeps going on about the two of us being soulmates, telling me we’re both idiots for not getting together.”

A wry smile spreads across your face. “Yeah, he’s the same way with me.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Part of me wonders if he’s right,” Jungkook says.

You pause, fingers wrapping round the cold metal of the swing chain - an attempt to ground yourself in reality.

Jungkook continues, “The thought kept going through my head once he brought it up with me recently… And I was thinking… Well… Even if we’re not soulmates, there’s no harm in trying things out together.”

You remember Jungkook had suggested something similar just before he left you – a chance of love snatched away with his sudden move. The memory still stings.

“What do you mean?” You already know what he means. You heart clambers into your mouth.

“I mean, I would like to try… dating. If you’ll have me,” Jungkook stares across at you, catching you in a gaze you can’t look away from. “Even if we’re not soulmates… we’re both single,” he continues, “And we might never know who our soulmates are. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

You can barely find your tongue to respond. “But, you… you live so far away now.”

“We could make it work,” Jungkook says, “If you wanted to?”

You turn the thought over in your head. You know this will probably end like it did last time, with Jungkook snatched out of you life, only a distant memory. You glance across at him, drinking in his matured face. This isn’t the boy you grew up with. This is someone else. Someone, who’ll maybe, just maybe, fend off the loneliness chilling your heart. “I- I’d like that,” you reply.

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s face breaks into a wide smile, squishing his nose up in the way you always liked when he was a child.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I mean… why not?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods.

“Yeah…”

You both fall silent again. You suddenly realise you don’t know where to go from here. How are you supposed to continue with someone who might not – but then again might – be your soulmate?

Jungkook seems just as unsure as you, rubbing at the back of his neck, as he stares up at the expanse of stars above him.

“So… what exactly does dating involve?” you ask, feeling stupid as soon as the words leave your lips.

“Uh… dating?”

“Well obviously,” you chuckle, “But what does a date with Jeon Jungkook involve exactly?”

“Hmmm,” Jungkook considers this, “It probably involves getting coffee together. Tomorrow. At, shall we say… eleven thirty?”

“It’s a date.” You stick out your hand to him. “Let’s shake on it.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

The unthinkable had happened.

And Jungkook doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about anything as he stomps through the rain.

The drops pelting down on the hood of his coat sound like coins rattling. He sloshes through puddles, ignoring how the water soaks into his shoes. The streetlights shine down on the rain that glazes the pavement, leaving yellow rings rippling across the ground.

Jungkook blinks past the raindrops, seeing the village park ahead of him, swing sets shining under the sheen of rain.

Tramping forward, he sits down on one of the swings, ignoring the cold rain seeping into the seat of his jeans.

Pushing himself off the ground, his feet splash up water. He doesn’t want to think of it.

Doesn’t want to think of the divorce.

Now he’s thinking about it.

So rare. It’s so rare for two soulmates to get together, and then decide that they’re not compatible anymore. How did it happen to his parents of all people? The two people he thought were living happily, despite their arguments? Was he blind, should he have spotted the warning signs, helped his parents out more? What could he have done to stop this? Could he have done anything?

He’s thinking too much. He pushes himself off the ground, swinging forward further, falling back. He stares up at the sky, the raindrops streaking down to stain his cheeks. If he leans his head back far enough he can see the ground behind him, hanging upside down, falling towards him as he swings back. It makes him dizzy. A better feeling than the confusion clouding his brain.

“Thought I would find you here.”

Jungkook sits up straight on the swing, seeing his father standing in front of him, umbrella in hand.

“What are you doing here?” The question sounds more aggressive than Jungkook intended. “I thought I said I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, Jungkook,” his father says, “But it’s cold and damp out here. I want you to come home.”

“Well I don’t want to go home,” Jungkook folds his arms across his chest, trying not to shiver, not wanting to show his father that he’s right – it’s bitterly cold outside.

“I know,” his father says, “But you’ll get sick out here.”

Jungkook remains quiet.

His dad sighs, and comes across to sit on the swing next to him.

“Listen,” he begins, hesitating, “I know this is tough for you. It’s strange to see two soulmates separate. But, I do know that at one point in my life, your mother was my soulmate. She was perfect for me. But we’ve both changed a lot. We’re very different people now. And we’re not making each other happy anymore.”

“You never really believed in the soulmate system, did you?” Jungkook accuses.

His dad makes a noise like he’s going to respond, but no words come out.

“That’s why you don’t want me to have my watch until I’m older. You don’t think it’ll do me any good, knowing who my soulmate is. Just because you were unhappy with your soulmate.”

“That’s not true,” his father says, but Jungkook butts in:

“It is true! You expect me to be just as unhappy with my soulmate, so you don’t want me to find them. Isn’t that it? All this time I thought you were keeping me from my watch because you thought it would do me good. But you have no real idea what’s good for me, do you?”

His father is silent.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut against the glare of the streetlights on the rain soaked ground. If he squeezes hard enough, the tears won’t come.

“I should have know.” Jungkook jumps up, and walks away from his father. He can hear him calling him back, but he ignores him, picking up the pace, speed kicking up, until he’s running, rain splashing up his legs.

Anger is thundering through him, warming him despite the cold. He’s going to find his watch. He knows his parents keep it in their room somewhere. He’s going to take it, and he won’t let his parents take it back.

He deserves to know who his soulmate is.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You’re overthinking this. It’s just a date. Nothing to get worked up over.

But it’s your first date. Ever. And you have no idea what to expect.

As you stare at the collection of clothes spread haphazardly across your bed, this decision seems harder than the choice of name for your first born child. What are you supposed to wear? Should you dress casually? Or will Jungkook think you aren’t taking this seriously enough if you don’t wear your best clothes?

Your phone goes off, vibrating violently on your bedside table, and you grab it to check who’s messaging you. Taehyung’s name flashes up on screen: Heard you have a date today! ;)

You smile to yourself. Of course Taehyung’s already found out about you and Jungkook. You text back: You head right.

You barely have the time to return your attention to you choice in clothing before your phone is buzzing again: Good luck. Not that you need it! :P

A smile spreads across your face, which immediately disappears when your eye catches the time on your phone screen. Shit! You’re going to be late.

With no time left to decide, you grab a pair of jeans and a knitted sweater, throwing them on, struggling to get your arms through the sleeves as you bump down the stairs, wildly grabbing for your shoes.

The walk to the cafe where you decided to meet Jungkook is a short one – but a sweaty one, as you power walk the entire way, holding back from running for fear of all eyes gluing to you, as you make a spectacle of yourself.

As you throw open the cafe door, with the tinkle of the bell above your head, Jungkook stands up from his table with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” you walk over to his table, trying to catch your breath, and hoping your face isn’t too red, “Sorry I’m late. You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

He shakes his head quickly, “No, no.”

You follow him over the the cafe counter with a relieved laugh. “Good. It took me way to long to decide what to wear, and I kind of lost track of time.”

“I know the feeling,” Jungkook flashes you a look with his melted chocolate eyes, “I was so nervous this morning!”

“Me too,” you laugh at yourself, “Guess there was no need to be.”

“No,” a soft smile settles across Jungkook’s face as he looks at you, until the barista draws his attention away, asking him what he wants to drink.

As you read over the cafe’s menu behind the counter, an odd shiver runs down your spine, like a drip of icy water has slid past the collar of your sweater. You turn back to the cafe, and catch the eyes of the other customers, all glued on you and Jungkook – there’s Margaret, the old lady who lives across the street from you, with her friend Alice; there’s your primary school teacher, a friend of your mother’s; there’s the father of your old babysitter - all people you know. And they’re all murmuring amongst themselves, eyes flickering between you and Jungkook. A warmth sweeps across your face, burning your nose.

“Can I help you?” You jump, realising that the barista has been talking to you.

“Oh, right,” you shake yourself, turning away from the curious eyes fixed on you, “Can I have a flat white please?”

Having ordered your coffees, you  and Jungkook return to your table. Seated opposite from you, Jungkook blows at the steam rising from his coffee, while you lean towards him to whisper, “I feel like everyone’s staring at us.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glued to his coffee as he swirls it round and round with a wooden stirrer, watching the cloudy patterns of milk mixing through the coffee. “Yeah, I couldn’t help noticing that myself.” His shoulders shake with a quiet laugh. “I kind of forgot what it’s like in a small village like this - that you can’t get away with doing anything in secret here.” His eyes bounce up to meet yours, catching you off guard with their brightness, “In the city no body knows who you are, and you can go anywhere without bumping into a familiar face. In some ways it’s nice. It gives you privacy.”

You nod, “Yeah… it’s kind of awkward here, isn’t it? We’re going to be the topic of gossip all over town now. People will be saying that we’re getting married next.”

“And that you’re pregnant with our third child.”

“And actually we’ve been married for three years, and you’re filing for a divorce.”

Jungkook’s head bobs down in a snort of laughter. “I forgot how ridiculous the rumours can get.” He scratches at the back of his neck, “Maybe I should have chosen somewhere more discrete for our first date.”

“It’s no problem.” A smirk plays across your face as a plan comes into your head. “Why don’t we give them something to really gossip about?”

A grin rises on Jungkook’s face to match your own. “What did you have in mind?”

With a burst of bravery, you lean across the table towards him, and Jungkook, taking your cue, leans closer, tilting his head forward.

Your lips connect with a rush of warmth through your body, and a rush of blood to the head, leaving every limb feeling tingly. You’re not sure how long you should kiss Jungkook, how much tongue should be involved, or if Margaret will be telling your mother about this, but all other thoughts begin to melt away as Jungkook’s mouth moves against your own, using you in strange new ways that you have never experienced before. He pulls away from you far too soon, leaving you hovering over the table, with your eyes fluttering open, like you’re waking up for the first time, a brand new person.

Jungkook grins across at you. “Am I that good a kisser?”

You blush, sitting back in your seat. “Don’t flatter yourself.” A smile lets him know he is that good.

All eyes are definitely on you now.

“I think it’s time we leave,” Jungkook says with a laugh, gaze sweeping the cafe.

You’re only too happy to comply, gathering your coat and scarf from the back of your chair.

With a barely contained giggle, you and Jungkook collapse out of the door into the cold December air, where you promptly descent into laughter.

“Did you see their faces?” Jungkook wheezes.

You lean against him, gasping in cold air, with your ribs feeling like they’re about to snap, “Those old ladies looked so happy to have a new story to spread around.”

“I’m pretty happy too,” Jungkook says, with a shy smile directed your way, “I got a kiss out of it.”

“You can certainly get more of those,” you promise. It surprises you how easy it is to be like this around Jungkook, like the two of you are meant to be by each other’s side, laughing at life together..

As you walk down the street, you manage to restore your composure, “It’s nice to be back with you, Jungkook.”

“You too,” he says, “I’m just sorry I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Do- do you mind me asking why that is?”

Jungkook breathes out a sigh, “Honestly, I’ve been putting off coming to visit my mum.”

“You don’t get on with her, huh?”

Jungkook pauses in his path. You stop a few steps ahead of him. “Not really,” he admits, “I know I should. I mean, she’s my mum. She’s family. But part of me blames her for losing my soulmate, I suppose. And she’s never really seen eye to eye with me when it comes to the topic of soulmates.”

You decide not to pry further, knowing Jungkook will open up more when he wants to.

The two of you continue walking, twisting your way down familiar streets, past old houses lounging behind neatly trimmed hedges. Without thinking, your hand slips comfortably into Jungkook’s. He pulls up the sleeve of his coat so your palm can press against his, without the fabric getting in the way.

Suddenly, a shout across the street grabs your attention. “Well, if it isn’t the two love-birds!”

You glance over, and a smile brightens your face when you see Taehyung, waving across at you. He glances up and down the street, then runs over to the two of you. “Hey!”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you smile.

“How’s the date going?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Pretty good, I’d say,”Jungkook grins, “We’ve already managed to make ourselves the talk of the village by showing up together at the cafe.”

Taehyung laughs. “Sounds about right for this village.” He’s silent for a second, then suddenly exclaims: “Hey, if you’re wanting to get out of the village for a bit, me and a few other friends are taking the bus into town his evening. We’re going to be visiting the new club that’s just opened there. It’s meant to be really good. And less people will know you there. That means less people gossiping about seeing you together.”

Jungkook looks to you, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to call the shots.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good night out,” you say, “And I am off work for the next few days. It would be a shame to waste that freedom.”

“That’s the spirit,” Taehyung slaps you on the back, while you and Jungkook share a smile.

Maybe getting out of the village is just what you and Jungkook need.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The clubs is already throbbing with bodies when you arrive. You can’t hear anything over the blast of the bass, vibrating through your bones. But that doesn’t matter, as Jungkook offers you a beer. All you care about are his eyes on yours, drowning you in melted chocolate. Holding up his own glass to you, you see his mouth form around the words “To us!” and you shout back “To us!” hoping he can hear you over the music.

One beer turns into two, turns into three, leaving your head in a happy haze, as you push your way closer to the centre of the dance floor. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, as you move in time to the beat, and you stop caring about the other people around you. None of them know you. You’ve managed to loose Taehyung and his friends already. It’s just you and Jungkook, and the music moving in waves through your bodies, like you’ve merged into one living, breathing being, joined by the beat. Jungkook’s body presses closer to you, and all the nerves in you spark at the sensation of him against you. Looking up, his face is bright in the spinning lights. You lean closer, breathing the same air as him, not minding the scent of beer. You’re hypnotised by his eyes, drawn in closer, closer. You can make out every small imperfection on his face, faint freckles, a loose eyelash on his cheek. His lips are so close, they’re almost brushing yours.

And then you’re kissing him. It’s not like the kiss in the cafe. This one isn’t for show, to get the neighbours talking. This is purely, unapologetically Jungkook, and all the feeling that comes from him. It’s the taste of his tongue, rough against your own. It’s the softness of his lips, pressing to the shape you cast for him. It’s the nip of his teeth on the tender skin of your bottom lip, sharp and sweet to you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur - all you’ll remember later is the pounding beat of the drums, and the beat of your own heart as Jungkook’s body moves against you in a slow dance all of your own, while the rest of the club pulses around you, cutting you into your own world, with your own atmosphere, revolving around your own bright sun.

When Jungkook speaks into your ear, breath hot on your skin - “Want to get out of here?” - you’re ready to comply.

The bus ride back to your village is spent giggling in the back seat, leaning against Jungkook, as he draws silly faces for you on the fogged up window, and whispers about the other bus passengers, making up reasons for them to be getting the bus at half one in the morning.

You barely know yourself as you lead Jungkook back to your house. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be going home with someone this evening, you would have laughed. You’ve been single for so long, so starved of touch, any scenario with this outcome seemed farcical. You refuse the urge to pinch yourself.

Bursting into your house, the empty rooms fill with your laughter, as you and Jungkook collapse onto your sofa, without even bothering to turn on the light. You end up underneath Jungkook, his weight holding you down, pressing comfortingly. In the darkness, Jungkook’s lips find yours, with a quiet desperation. These are the kisses of someone as starved for physical contact as you are. You respond back with the same intensity, lungs pulling air between kisses, head dizzy from alcohol and the strength of his affection.

You’d be a fool if you didn’t realise where this is going. Your stomach flips over, as the two of you sit up, bodies tangled together as you straddle Jungkook’s thighs. His hand slips under your shirt, hesitant at first, waiting for you to give him the go ahead. You can only press your lips to his all the more fervently in answer, and his fingers trail across your exposed skin, exploring, like he’s marking out a map of your body.

Suddenly he pulls away, leaving you breathless and cold. In the fog of alcohol your head tries to bend around the heat he ripped from you, wanting desperately to grab it back.

“What’s wrong?” You fumble blindly for the lamp by your sofa, wincing as you douse the room in light.

Jungkook is sitting across from you, his hair mussed up and his cheeks pink. “I’m just not sure about this,” he says, “Are we moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” Your heart clenches.

“It’s just,” Jungkook puffs out his cheeks in a sigh, “We don’t even know if we’re soulmates. What if we’re not? What if our real soulmates are out there somewhere, just waiting for us to show up?”

“You think I haven’t worried about that myself?” Your eyes search his, just as mesmerising as ever. You refuse to let yourself get sucked in, blinking past the haze in your head, “Obviously I worry about that. But I’m so tired of being alone. I want what everyone else has. I just…” you hang your head, “I want to love somebody.”

“I know,” Jungkook nods, “Me too. That’s why I don’t want to rush into this. I don’t want to be doing this just because I’m desperate for a cure to my loneliness.”

The two of you fall silent. At last Jungkook speaks up. “I should probably get going. My mum will have a fit if I’m back late.”

“Alright,” you nod. You know Jungkook is right, you should slow things down, be sure that this – the two of you, together – is something you really want.

Still, as you wave him off at the front step, you can’t help but feel disappointed. You wish your love life could be as simple as everyone else’s seems to be – that you could have your soulmate watch fall off, and immediately know who you’re meant to be with. And that you would never doubt a kiss after it’s happened.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

The numbers stare back at Jungkook, blank and lifeless, as he stands in his parents room, watch in hand.

The screen reads: 00:00.

His timer is up. That’s what this means. He’s met his soulmate somewhere already, without knowing it, without a watch to guide him to the person he was supposed to be with.

Anger burns in his stomach.

“Jungkook!” His mother runs into the room, switching on the lights. The brightness of the bulbs blinds him, leaving him blinking. “What are you doing with that?” his mother demands.

“Taking what belongs to me,” Jungkook holds up the watch, and his mother’s eyes widen.

“How did you find that?” she asks, taking a step forward and making a grab for it.

Jungkook swings out of the way, clutching the watch to his chest. “It didn’t take too long to look through your drawers.”

His mother’s face reddens. “You shouldn’t be going through my things, Jungkook.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have taken something that belongs to me,” Jungkook replies, not caring that he’s being rude. He’s too angry to care about anything, but the blank numbers on his watch.

“Did you read it already?” she demands, stepping back. Her face is lined with worry, cracks of age etched into her skin.

“Yes,” Jungkook clutches the watch tighter in his hand, feeling the cold metal cut into his skin. His jaw clenches, defiant against his mother, as she draws herself up to her full hight, not quite as tall as he is. It wasn’t long ago that she towered above him.

“After your father and I told you not to? Demanded that you didn’t?” Anger simmers in her voice, below a barely concealed disappointment.

“Yes,” Jungkook remains monotone with her, feeling his teeth grinding together, holding him back from snapping at her – the woman who stopped him from finding his soulmate, prevented him finding love.

“You give that back now,” his mother holds out her hand to him, bare palm demanding.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping back.

“Jungkook,” his mother’s tone is strong, unaccepting of his answer, “That’s no way to talk to me.”

Jungkook pockets his watch, watching his mother carefully, letting her watch for herself as he disobeys her. He doesn’t need to say anything. Slinking past her, as she shouts after him, he heads out of the room, across the landing to his own room, where he slams the door, immune to the shouts of his name behind him.

Here, with no eyes on him, he pulls out the watch again, looking at the blank zeroes that stare back, heartless and cold. So his parents have spoiled his soulmate connection because their own soulmate connections have failed. In keeping him from it, they were keeping him from what every other person was going to easily walk into as they journeyed through life – companionship, friendship, a promise that they wouldn’t be lonely again. And for what? Because it hadn’t worked out for them?

With a sudden surge of rage, Jungkook lunges for his bed, and grabbing a pillow, pounds it with his fists, until the breath has gone from his chest, and the tears are gone from his eyes. Leaning down, he rests his head against the pillow he was just assaulting, feeling its comforting softness resting against him, and the thought crosses his mind of how much he wants a soulmate for moments like this, when he’s feeling weak and broken. He wants someone to stay by his side, to comfort him, run a hand through his hair, and promise him everything will be okay.

But it’s not okay. He’s stuck without a soulmate. And somewhere out there, his other half is living with no soulmate, wondering where he is, and why he never showed up in their life when their watch went off.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You wake to a knock on your door. A glance at your phone lets you know that it’s almost midday, on the twenty third of December. Later than you had meant to sleep in. You can still feel the alcohol in your system, not enough to give you a full-blown hangover, but enough to make you roll over with a groan, hoping for more sleep.

Another knock rattles on the door, and you sigh, pushing yourself out of bed. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you mutter, knowing the person at the door won’t hear you. You scramble for clothes, before padding down the stairs to open the door.

The bright sunlight greets you, with a brighter smile from-

“Jungkook?” You stare up at him, “What are you doing here?”

He steps into your house, without giving you an answer, leading you towards your living room. “I think I’ve figured out how to fix our soulmate problem.”

“Uh huh?” You flop down on your sofa, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and trying to get your brain in gear.

“So,” Jungkook sits down next to you, warmth radiating out from him, making you want to melt back into bed, maybe with him by your side this time, “I was wondering if it’s possible to find out when soulmate watches were set to go off, even after their timer has already gone off.”

“Yeah?”

“And it turns out that there are a few watchmakers than can wind back watches to figure out the dates they were set to come off. There aren’t many of them. But they do exist.”

“Yeah?” your brain is still half asleep, not quite processing what Jungkook is saying.

“Don’t you get it?” Jungkook stares you dead in the eyes, “If we take my watch to one of these watchmakers, we can see if it was set to go off on the day your watch fell off. We can figure out if you really are my soulmate.”

Your brain finally snaps awake. “This is really a thing we can do?”

“Yeah. I mean, our nearest watchmaker is quite far away. But sure it’s a thing we can do. If you don’t mind a long drive?”

You’re on your feet, before your brain can catch up with your body, leaving you wobbling. “What are you waiting for, let’s go!”

“Now?” Jungkook stares up at you.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well… it’s the twenty third of December,” Jungkook reminds you, “The roads are going to be a nightmare with everyone trying to get home to their families. Not to mention there’s heavy snow forecast for this evening.”

You feel yourself deflate. “Ah, right. So we should probably wait, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook says, and then the two of you fall silent.

You turn the thought over in your head. The possibility of knowing once and for all if Jungkook is your soulmate – if the fluttering in your heart is the real deal, or just the jittery hope that love is even an option for you.

“Oh, what the hell,” you look down at Jungkook, “I need to know.”

Jungkook grins, “And here I was, hoping you would talk me out of this crazy idea.”

“No way,” you shake your head, “I’m just as crazy as you are.”

“So… road trip?” Jungkook raises his brows expectantly.

“Just wait. First breakfast. Then, road trip!”

Jungkook grins, “Can’t forget breakfast.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

Jungkook wasn’t exaggerating when he said the roads would be a nightmare today. You stare out at the sea of cars on all sides of you, sitting at a standstill, with passengers and drivers looking just as hopeless as you feel. The sky above your is a dark grey, and around you, car lights are beginning to turn on as evening sets in.

“We’re never going to get moving,” you groan, leaning your head against the cold window.

“Sure we are,” Jungkook shifts into first gear, rolling the car forward, “Look at that. We gained some ground.”

“Yeah… an inch,” you say.

“An inch is better than nothing,” Jungkook says, and you bite back on any immature jokes you could make, turning your attention to the radio instead:

“How about we have some music?” You turn the volume up as the notes of ‘Let it Snow’ start swimming through the stuffy air of the car.

“I’d rather it didn’t snow,” Jungkook addresses the radio, “At least until we get home again.”

You glance up at the grey clouds that have been consistently gathering above you all day. The sky is dark now, and you can barely tell if that’s because it’s getting late in the day, or just because the heavens are threatening a storm. Maybe both.

Trying to remain positive despite the aching in your muscles from sitting for so long, you begin singing along, putting on a silly voice to coax a smile out of Jungkook as the car rolls forward a few more inches.

Shyly, Jungkook begins to sing along with you, and you trail off, listening intently to Jungkook, awed by his voice. He continues on, not noticing you’ve stopped singing with him, until the song comes to an end. “What?” he glances over at you, “You’re staring at me.”

“Sorry,” you flush, “I just- I never realised you could sing, Jungkook.”

“Huh?” It’s his turn to blush. “I’m not that good.”

“Sure you are! You sing like an angel.”

The tips of his ears are turning red. “Oh, stop flattering me.”

“I need you to know how talented you are, Jungkook, damnit.”

“Oh yeah, well if you’re going to be complimenting me, then you better expect some compliments in return.”

A smile tugs at you lips, “Yeah? You got compliments for me?”

“Sure I do.” Around you, the traffic begins moving again, slowly. “For starters, you’re beautiful!” Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road, rolling forward, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he talks about you, “And you’re really funny. You’ve got the perfect sense of humour. Not to mention you’re kind. And you’re willing to put up with all my crazy ideas - liking driving miles to find a watchmaker on the off chance he might be able to tell us when I was supposed to meet my soulmate. And you’re also really beautiful. Did I already say that?” He laughs at himself, clearly embarrassed by his rambling. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you end up being my soulmate, then I’m a very lucky man.”

You can’t do anything but smile, cheeks hurting, unused to stretching so far. Jungkook has rendered you speechless. You want to tell him so much – that he’s beautiful too, that you love his jokes, his passion, his gentleness, that you think you’d be very lucky if he turned out to be your soulmate too, but the words stick in your throat.

Above you, the heavy clouds begin to release their first flakes of snow with a gentle sigh.

Somehow, you get the sense, Jungkook already knows all you want to tell him.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The clock on the car dashboard reads 11:00pm. You can barely see the road in front of you, dimly lit by the car's headlights. You’ve made your way through all the traffic, and are somehow still making barely any progress on the road. The windscreen is obscured by a flurry of snowflakes, occasionally punctuated by the windscreen wipers, giving you a brief glimpse of the snow drowning the road in white.

“Jungkook,” you murmur across to him, “We really need to stop.”

“We’re nearly there,” Jungkook insists. You can hear the rough scratch of sleepiness in his voice.

But you know you need to stop driving soon. Jungkook’s tired, and despite turning up the volume of the radio until it’s blasting obnoxious Christmas tunes at full volume, you know Jungkook can’t fight the battle against sleep for much longer.

“We both need rest,” you insist, “We’ll get there tomorrow. But for now we need to stop.”

Jungkook is about to argue back, until a yawn catches him off guard. Blinking tired eyes at the dark road ahead, he relents: “Alright, I’ll turn in at the next service station.”

You watch carefully for the signs directing you to the service station. Through the snow, the sign pointing for a hotel almost feels like a mirage at first. Relief floods through your veins as you turn into the car park, safe, as the snow falls silently around you, covering you in a muffling blanket.

“You okay with sleeping in there?” Jungkook nods at the hotel sign, barely staying up above the entrance. Somebody’s scratched off the “T” and the “L” so it reads “HO E”.

“Anything’s better than sleeping in the car,” you tell him, and so the two of you jump out, and make a break for the hotel, scrambling to escape the bitter cold.

As Jungkook pulls the door open for you, you’re greeted with the smell of damp. You remind yourself of what you had said just a few seconds ago: Anything’s better than sleeping in the car. You’re beginning to doubt that.

Jungkook speaks to the tired looking receptionists, who hands you over a set of keys, telling him it’s the only room they have left.

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiles, before leading you towards the stairwell. The two of you make your way up the rickety old stairs, creaking under your weight.

“I’m regretting not packing a clean set of clothes,” Jungkook admits, as he locates your room down the corridor, “Or a toothbrush for that matter.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I didn’t bring those things either. We’ll just have to rough it together.”

Jungkook shrugs apologetically, “I really didn’t think the drive would take this long. Maps said it would only be a five hour drive.”

“That was without snow or Christmas traffic,” you remind him, as he fights with the door, trying to unlock it. With a couple of hard shoves, the door finally shudders open with a blood curdling creak, and you’re greeted with your room, if you could even call it a room. The whole space is taken up by a double bed, covered with grey sheets that might have been white once upon a time.

“Well,” Jungkook steps inside, “I’m beginning to think sleeping in the car might have been a better idea.”

“The car would certainly have had more space,” you laugh, closing the door behind you, with some force, so that it stays shut.

On closer inspection, the small door you had expected to be a cupboard turns out to be the en suit, almost the size of a cupboard itself.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t bring any luggage,” you joke, “We’d have no room for it.”

“I suppose so,” Jungkook says, “If you want to look on the bright side.”

With no luggage with you, it doesn’t take the two of you long to get ready for bed. The two of you take the toothpaste the hotel left out for you, using your fingers to spread the paste around as best you can. It’s not the cleanest your teeth have ever been, but it’s better than nothing. That’s all you can say for this hotel in general. It’s better than nothing.

Defeated, the two of you crash into your bed, too tired to be embarrassed by the prospect of sharing a bed for the first time.

You roll away from Jungkook, snuggling the blankets up around you, and try to fall asleep. As soon as you close your eyes though, thoughts begin to bombard you, doubts springing up like daisies – what if Jungkook isn’t your soulmate, and this trip is all for nothing? Worse – what if the watchmaker reveals who Jungkook’s real soulmate is, and he goes off with them instead?

Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, where, in the dim light from outside, you can see the shape of a damp patch on the ceiling. It looks like a map of the USA if you squint.

“You still awake?” Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence, raspy and deep.

“Yeah…”

“I can’t sleep,” Jungkook admits.

“Me neither.”

“What’s keeping you up?” Jungkook asks.

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I’m worried about what will happen once we find out when your watch was meant to come off… I’m worried I won’t be your soulmate.”

Jungkook considers this silently. You swallow, focussing on the strange USA-shaped damp patch on the ceiling.

“Well,” Jungkook finally speaks up, “I’ve been thinking… Even if it turns out that we’re not soulmates… I’d still like to be with you.”

You hadn’t been expecting that. You sit up, looking down at Jungkook. His eyes gleam up at you, reflecting the street lights from outside.

“What?” he asks, frowning up at your face.

“You mean that, Jungkook?”

His voice is soft, firm. “Of course I mean it. I like you. I like you a lot. And I get a sense I’m dangerously close to falling in love with you. Frankly, I don’t care if we’re soulmates. I want to be with you, regardless of what the watchmaker says. I want to see if we can make things work.” He pauses. “I’m sorry for last night. When we got back from clubbing. I guess I panicked because I thought we were moving too fast. And I was worried there was someone out there who was meant to be with you, when I wasn’t. But I can feel it now, even if I’m not your soulmate, I want to be yours – if you want me?”

The only answer you can give to that is to lean down over Jungkook, and press a gentle kiss to his warm lips. “I want that too,” you whisper the answer into his skin, lowering yourself back onto the bed. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you closer, and that’s the last thing you remember before sleep finally takes you captive.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Ten Years Ago]

You’re sitting on the swing in the village park, Jungkook on the swing beside you. The sky before you sparkles out with a kaleidoscope of stars, bright and clear with no clouds to hide them. Your breath comes out in clouds of fog as you push yourself back and forth.

“You said there was something you wanted to tell me?” you press Jungkook.

He asked you to come over and meet him, but you’ve spent the past few minutes talking over small, inconsequential things. You knew you would have to bring it up eventually, his reason for calling you out here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook huffs out a sigh, the mist of his breath rising in front of him, to melt into the air. “See, the thing is… I’m moving away.”

The whole world shifts then, like the earth, spinning on its orbit, has suddenly accelerated forward faster than you were prepared for. You’ve spent so much time with Jungkook, he’s one of your closest friends, one you’ve known for so long. A life without him in your small village seems like a different life entirely, lived in a new body – like you’re not yourself, like you’re losing a part of you.

“Oh,” is all you can say.

“It’s because of the divorce,” Jungkook explains, pushing himself back on the swing, and tipping his head back to stare up at the spilled contents of the milky-way. “My dad’s moving away, and taking me with him. Mum’s staying here.”

Of course, you already knew about the divorce. Nothing stayed a secret in the small village, and you had heard your neighbours whispering about Jungkook’s parents. Everyone had also managed to hear about Jungkook’s lack of a soulmate. He had told you about it soon after he found his watch himself, and you hadn’t had any way to respond, only being able to offer him a hug. You knew what it was like to have no soulmate – to face a future without the promise of a partner. But you couldn’t express that him. Not in any way that felt adequate for the weight of sadness you could feel around him.

“I see.” You know your replies are stiff, but you don’t know what else to say.

Silence ebbs in, feeling heavy in your ears. You stare up at the sky, where the stars wink back at you, offering no answer for the sudden empty feeling in your heart.

“I’ll miss you,” you say at last. It’s something you know you should say, and when you finally push it past your throat, you realise it’s easy to admit. You’ll miss Jungkook so much.

“I’ll miss you too,” he pushes himself around on his swing, so that he’s angled towards you, chains of the swing twisting. “I suppose I should confess this now before I leave…” he presses his lips together, “I thought that because the two of us are soulmate-less, the two of us might eventually end up together.”

“Like, soulmates… but not?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods.

You twist around in your swing as well, facing him. You’re grateful for the darkness of the park, which hides the blush on your face, as a swarm of emotions swim to the surface. You hadn’t considered it before, but it makes sense that the people who don’t have soulmates should be paired together. And Jungkook’s such a good friend. Isn’t that what a soulmate is anyway? A really good friend, who stays with you forever.

But Jungkook can’t stay with you forever.

“I would have liked that,” you admit, your heart jolting into your throat as you speak, and choking you up, so you can’t continue that thought any further.

“Me too,” Jungkook smiles sadly. Pushing himself up off the swing, he walks over to you, hands gripping onto the chains of the swing you’re sat on.

He’s so close that you can see the reflections of the orange streetlights in his dark brown eyes. The ghost of his breath waltzes across your cheeks.

You don’t quite realise what you’re doing, or what he’s doing, until his lips are upon yours, warm and soft.

The whole world seems to pause, as if it’s holding its breath, with the stars twinkling above your heads as the only indication that time is moving forward.

The kiss is short, barely a few seconds, but it’s now imprinted on your brain forever, repeating a thousand times over. A thought stabs painfully at you: If you never find your soulmate,  that could be both your first and your last kiss.

Your stomach fills with ice, as Jungkook pulls away, murmuring, “I’ll miss you so much.”

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

[Present Day]

You awaken with Jungkook stirring beside you. Blinking, you look up to him with a smile as he sits up in bed, stretching his arms above his head. His hair is falling across his face, messy and tangled, but he looks better than he ever has as your heart fills with the hope that the two of you have a future together.

“You’ll never guess what,” Jungkook says, as he goes to open the curtains.

“What?”

Outside, the snow has calmed down, a snug blanket lying over the ground, leaving the world peaceful – a far contrast from the wild flurries of ice last night. Jungkook points out the window at the sign in the car park, “We’re only a mile away from the town the watchmaker lives in.”

And despite how awful the weather was last night, and how scared you were on the road with Jungkook, you can’t help but laugh. “I guess we better go find that damn watchmaker then, since we’ve come all this way.”

“Right!” Jungkook grins, “But remember, no matter what the outcome of all of this… we’ll stay together, so long as that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” You’ve never been more sure.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

The centre of the town is bustling when you arrive. There are people milling around, some frantically buying last minute gifts, others out to enjoy the atmosphere and the bright Christmas light.

You feel like an oddity, scouring the streets for a watch shop while the rest of the town prepares for Christmas.

“This is it!” Jungkook’s voice directs you towards him, a few feet ahead of you, where he’s found the shop you were looking for. You run over to him, excited – until you see the ‘Closed for Christmas’ sign hanging on the door in cheery shades of red and green that don’t match your mood.

“No way,” you can’t hide the disappointment in your voice, “We drove all the way here...for this?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Maybe we’re just not meant to know if we’re soulmates or not.”

You’re ready to turn around, and try to make the most of the town that you’ve taken so long to drive to – when you hear a voice from behind.

“Excuse me?”

You turn around to see a small old lady in front of you.

“Hello,” you say, smiling at her.

“Are you looking for the watchmaker?” she asks.

Jungkook nods, “We were. We heard he can wind back soulmate watches that have stopped, to see when their timer was meant to go off. Do you know if that’s true?”

The old lady gives a smile, her wrinkles stretching as she does so. “Yes, that’s so. Why were you wondering?”

“Well,” Jungkook pulls his watch out from his pocket. It’s silver chain glints in the Christmas lights. “We wanted to find out when this watch was meant to go off. It’ll help us figure out if we’re soulmates.”

“You don’t know if you're soulmates?” the old lady frowns.

“My watch fell off when I was very young,” you explain, “I was never sure if it was a malfunction or not. And Jungkook never wore his watch as a child, so we have no way of knowing if it was supposed to fall off with mine.”

“I see,” the old woman’s eyes twinkled, “It’s just that when I saw you as I walked past, I was so sure you were soulmates. This might sound strange, but the two of you remind me of myself and my husband when we were younger.”

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest, heating your body despite the cold.

“Do you know who my husband is?” the old lady continues, with a twinkle in her eye, and you shake your head. She leans forward, as if she’s about to divulge a great secret. “He’s the watchmaker you’re looking for.” She smiles at the surprise settling on your face. “If you want, you can visit our house, and I’ll have him take a look at that watch.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Jungkook says, “I wouldn’t want to make him work on Christmas Eve if he’s taken the day off.”

“Oh nonsense,” the woman flaps her hands at Jungkook, wafting off his concerns. “It’s no problem. Consider it an act of good Christmas cheer.”

Jungkook glances at you, and you give a reassuring smile. “That’s very kind,” you say, “We’d love to take you up on the offer if it’s not too much trouble.”

The lady’s wrinkled face breaks into a smile. “No trouble at all!”

You find yourself being led down twisting roads towards the old lady’s house as she tells you about how she and her husband met – in a situation similar to yours. Her husband had been wearing his watch. She hadn’t. She told you that when she was younger she used to believe that soulmates were a farce, and so refused to wear her watch. When she bumped into her future husband, she hadn’t realised that she was the reason his watch fell off – it wasn’t until he chased her down the street with such determination not to loose her, waving his watch in her face, that he managed to convince her that soulmates were worth believing in.

“That’s how my husband got into mending watches, you see,” the lady goes on, as you walk beside her, Jungkook on her other side, “He wants to help people who are unsure who their soulmates are.”

You smile at Jungkook, as the lady points up ahead, “That’s my house. We’re almost there.”

As she unlocks the door, she calls for her husband, before bustling towards the kitchen. “Let me make you a cup of tea.”

You’re ushered into a quaintly decorated living room, with a steaming cup of tea placed into hand, explaining your situation to the watchmaker, as he turns over Jungkook’s watch in his hands.

“I’ll see what I can do with this then,” the old man says, with a kind smile, taking the watch into his back room. You watch him through the open door, as he fixes his glasses on his face, and begins work.

By your side, Jungkook’s hand comes to rest on your knee – a gentle reminder that even if the watch tells that you aren’t soulmates, he’ll still be there for you.

The wait is long – or maybe it only seems that way, because you’re aware that you’re waiting. You try to listen carefully, as the old lady keeps you entertained, telling stories of other couples her husband has helped, but at the back of your mind, Jungkook’s soulmate watch keeps flashing up, in shades of silver.

At last, with the all of the tea drunk, the watchmaker emerges from his work room, handing the watch back to Jungkook.

“Well?” You can tell Jungkook is holding his breath.

“That watch was set to go off sixteen years ago,” the watchmaker says, “To be precise it was set to go off on the fourth of September, sixteen years ago, at quarter past nine.”

Your gaze falls on Jungkook. His eyes are a mirror of your own – shining, wide and bright. You don’t need to check. You’ve got the date memorised by heart – the day you lost your watch, the day that Jungkook careened into your life on his tricycle, destroying your watch, and making your life all the better by existing in it.

“Well, is that the date you were hoping for?” the watchmaker asks, but his wife quickly shushes him:

“Can’t you tell from their faces. That’s the right date alright!”

You can’t hold back as you barrel into Jungkook’s arms, not even caring that you’re being watched. He’s planting kisses across your face, spreading warmth along the paths his lips travel.

Of course, you knew that he would stay with you, even if you weren’t soulmates. And that these kisses would come, even if the date differed. But a part of you also knew that you were soulmates all along, that you didn’t need a watchmaker to tell you the truth. You didn’t need to check what you already knew – what the whole village knew. Maybe you really were an idiot for not believing all this time. The boy who broke your soulmate watch, was the boy who was your soulmate all along.

- ✻ ✻ ✻ -

It’s almost midnight by the time you make it back to your village, the Christmas lights still illuminating the small streets, warm and familiar, as Jungkook’s car pulls up in your drive.

“Is it alright if I stay the night?” Jungkook asks.

“You’re always welcome,” you tell him, getting out of the car, and leading him to the house.

The both of you are still too excited by the events of the day to go to sleep, so you end up on the couch, with mugs of instant hot chocolate steaming in your hands.

“So, where do we go from here?” you ask Jungkook. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do once you get a soulmate. Especially if you’ve known this soulmate for most of your life.

“Well, for one thing,” Jungkook says, sipping on his hot chocolate, “I’m going to have to start taking more trips to see my mum.”

“You mean trips to see me,” you nudge him with your foot.

“Of course,” he bows his head graciously, “Obviously I’ll be coming over to see you. But we can at least pretend for my mum’s sake. Make her feel special.”

You laugh. “That’s odd for someone who doesn’t get on with his mum.”

Jungkook shrugs. “She might have been misguided, but in the end, her actions didn’t stop me from finding who I was meant to be with. And I suppose I never really needed the watch, even though I thought I did. So maybe she was onto something after all, even if she didn’t realise that herself.”

You nod, “I know what you mean. It’s like I’ve always known on a subconscious level that I was going to fall for you.”

Jungkook’s ears turn pink with pleasure. “So you’d say you’ve fallen for me?”

“Obviously. Completely. Head over heels.”

On the wall across from you, the clock ticks over from 11:59 to 00:00.

“Happy Christmas,” Jungkook smiles across at you.

“Happy Christmas, Jungkook.”

- END -

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[kabira]

04 | solo

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.6k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — one instance of profanity

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

“You’re being a bitch.”

Vernon closed his locker’s door with a click before turning around, looking at the ceiling in exasperation when he heard the accusatory voice. There was a tube light directly above him, brilliant and blinding right in his sight. He turned away as quickly as he had looked up, blinking back the dark spots in his stinging eyes.

He didn’t bother acknowledging Lucy before making his way down the hallway, bag slung over one shoulder. His muscles ached from the previous night’s encounter—he’d ended up swinging around for longer than usual, long after the three had to go back to the Helicarrier for their bedtime. Knowing May wouldn’t be waiting up for him back home had made him a little careless, and the exertion during gym hadn’t helped.

“Don’t you walk away from me, mister!” Luce called behind him. When she saw that he wasn’t stopping, she blew air out of her mouth in irritation before jogging to catch up. “Vernon! What is up with you?”

The hallway was mostly empty, which wasn’t that surprising. He’d had to stay back in the lab to clean up his new partner’s chemical spill, which had, of course, been blamed on him instead. The old Parker luck. “I need to get home, Luce.”

“Do you?” she asked, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. A muscle in her jaw was working, tensing and relaxing at periodic intervals, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. She was usually relaxed, but her current gait was constrained, like a coiled-up spring. “I saw how you nailed that new kid in gym today. You usually opt out of dodgeball, but—”

“He had it coming,” Vernon said dismissively, but his lips thinned. The new guy she was referring to was Yangyang, who did have it coming, because of his little incident in the cafeteria the day before. Maybe it was a little uncalled for, but Vernon still honestly believed he had deserved it at least a little bit. “And you’re not supposed to chew gum in the school.”

“Neither are you supposed to be mean to people for no reason, but we’re all sinners.” Luce shrugged, and he bit back a few choice words. She pushed through the door as they reached the exit, and he shielded his eyes against the hot midday sun that’s shone directly at them. “For real, though. You got him good—I’ve never seen you so hostile towards anyone save for Flash. Did Yangyang say something to you?”

For some reason, her knowing his name annoyed Vernon even further. “Did you get the answers to those questions yesterday?” he asked, switching the subject.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny.” The laces of her converse were untied, a band pin on the lapel of her jacket wobbly, a few strands loose from her dark ponytail. He blinked, tearing his mind away from the little details of her appearance and tried to focus on walking. Left, right, left. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, well, I had a headache last night,” he said, grateful he didn’t have to hunt for excuses. His thoughts were already sluggish. “You can ask May.”

“I meant the one about Yangyang.” She paused, and he paused with her, taking a few steps before backtracking towards her. Her eyes were downcast, brow creased thoughtfully. Unconscious little gestures he knew like the back of his hand. Then she glanced up at him, right at him, so suddenly that when her eyes met his he swayed on his feet a little. “You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

I can’t, I’m sorry. But cryptic answers never helped. The last time he had tried withholding something from her that wasn’t his Spider-Man secret—the planned surprise party, for instance—she had persevered until he accidentally let it slip. Plus, she was sharp. A couple of new students, a few matching injuries, and she’d guess those three were superheroes right away. And where would he be then?

“It’s a guy thing,” he said instead, a little white lie he hoped would do the trick. Vernon raked a hand through his hair, pressing his lips into a smile as he squinted at her. “You’re going to embarrass me in front of all these pigeons.”

“The pigeons are half-dead because of New York’s air pollution, I’m pretty sure they have more important things to worry about than some guy’s adjustment problems,” she said, resuming her walk. He waited for her to pass him before following. “Look, I know the new kids are a sudden change after—” She bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Well. After…you know.”

All of a sudden, the atmosphere turned gloomier, as if a cloud had passed overhead. “Yeah,” Vernon said thickly, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.”

Lucy glanced at him, and though he wasn’t looking directly at her, he could sense the regret in her eyes. “It must be difficult for them, too,” she said. “Joining a new school in the middle of a session, just a few weeks after…all that.” She shrugged, looking at him, and their eyes met. “There’s no harm in being decent.”

He looked away, feeling the lining of his stomach go hot-and-cold. Even a mention of the incident turned every sunny conversation into something dark and somber, even though it had been months already. The counselor/agent had tried making him open up about it as well, but he’d snapped at her, only to regret it right after. It was a difficult subject for him, especially since he felt at least partially responsible for what had happened—but he couldn’t tell Luce that without revealing more than he was supposed to.

“So you’re still trying to score an interview with Tony Stark?” he asked instead, trying to steer the conversation towards a different topic. “I still can’t believe the board’s letting you do that.”

“Honestly? I think the only reason they agreed to it is because then they won’t have to assign me to anything of real importance,” she said with a small laugh. “They think I can’t do it.”

“Can you?”

“I have my ways,” she said, a glint in her eye. “I’d tell you how, but it’s too dangerous to involve an innocent civilian in my plans.”

“Uh-huh.” He tried not to shake his head. Oh, the irony. “You don’t have to talk to Stark, you know. I’m sure there were other civilian witnesses to the Goblin incident.”

“Yeah, but their accounts have already been reported. I need a superhero for this job.” She blew a strand of her hair out of her eyes. “If not him, who else am I going to talk to? Spider-Man?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Maybe?”

“I think Stark might be easier than that.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the point of the mask.”

He looked at her in half-surprise, unsure what to feel. They had talked about Spider-Man before, of course, but only in passing. A masked vigilante wouldn’t really be central to their usual conversations. Still, he hadn’t expected her to say that. “Yeah,” he murmured, feeling oddly warm. “I guess it is.”

“Oh, look,” she said, stopping in her tracks again. Vernon raised his eyebrows, following her line of sight to a Daily Bugle billboard on the side of a tall building. “Jameson’s having a field day with those photos of the new guys.”

He took a long look at the screen, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Why would you show me that?” he mumbled. On the top right corner of the screen was a blurry picture of him with Tiger, Nova, and Iceman, looking like a perfectly normal team of superheroes fighting crime—except for the leftover webbing clinging to Nova’s costume. Distractedly, Vernon wondered what Jameson made of that little detail.

“As a sighting in Queens last night reported, it seems that Spider-Man has now deemed it fit to invite even more of his delinquent partners into this city!” the man on the screen yelled. If Vernon tried hard enough, maybe he could even see little spit bubbles form in Jameson’s salt-and-pepper moustache during the passionate rant. “With crime rates already increasing steadily ever since the arrival of this masked menace, who knows what kind of mayhem the new additions to his team will spell for New York?”

Always the charmer.

“…anyway,” Luce muttered. She was frowning at the screen, but seemed unable to look away. “Who do you think those guys are?”

“Those guys?” Vernon echoed, awkwardly running his thumb along the strap of his bag. What could he say that would arouse the least suspicion? “They seem new.”

Nailed it.

“Right,” she mumbled, looking distracted, like her mind was far away—never a good sign with this one. “But, as I was saying, I know the past month’s been hard for you. It’s been hard for me, too, but you shouldn’t take it out on a few unsuspecting newbies when they don’t deserve it.”

Vernon kissed his teeth, choosing to stay silent. The last thing he wanted right now was more impromptu therapy, but he knew that trying to dissuade Lucy from speaking would only encourage her. The best he could do was shut up and let her have it.

“You know what’s helped me deal with it?” she asked, and he raised his eyebrows, wanting to get it over with. “Working. Ever since I joined the school newspaper, I’ve been able to keep myself busy. Distracted. I don’t want to sound like a mom, but maybe something like that could work out for you—like an after-school job or something.”

Oh, you have no idea. But he only shrugged, keeping his eyes on the billboard. He had been able to keep busy as Spider-Man, a well-needed distraction from the pain, but now with those three around, it wasn’t the good kind.

“Maybe,” he murmured, watching on as Jameson gesticulated violently onscreen. “We’ll see.”

|

Vernon swung the drone trapped at the end of his web in a full circle before letting go, letting it fly through the training room into a collapsed structure of another laser. The drone exploded, sparking as it crashed, crushing the circuit of the lasers in the structure beneath it.

Dusting off his hands, he turned, facing the rest of his ‘team’-mates, who stood to one side, having been watching him as he single-handedly took on the subjects of their training session. He had been going at it for about half an hour now, and it had been strangely satisfying to get to throw stuff around for the heck of it.

Nova stood leaning against the wall next to the control panel, his arms folded over his chest. “You done yet?” he asked in a bored voice.

The drone Vernon had just disabled sparked again, shooting an angry red beam across the room. Vernon clicked his modified web shooters into condensed impact mode and webbed the drone again without looking. The drone crackled once, then its light went dark.

“I am now,” he said, dropping his arm. Felix watched him with bleary eyes as he turned and headed towards the exit, which slid open with a pneumatic hiss. “And since I managed to complete the mission objective solo, I think I’m going to head home.”

“Except you didn’t.” White Tiger landed in his path, executing a perfect handspring that arched high over his head. Her reflexes were as good as his—maybe even better, but he would probably never tell her that.

She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. Despite the mask covering her features, he could sense how peeved she was through the sheer annoyance radiated by her posture. “The objective was to disable the bots without alerting the security system. You trashed the drones and crashed the system, and the power failure would have initiated a manual site-wide search. If this had been a real mission, we would have been discovered by now.”

“Except this isn’t a real mission,” he said, equally annoyed. “If it had been, I’m pretty sure I would have been able to do the job easily. Six armed drones against one spider? No competition.”

“And this was supposed to be a team effort,” she snapped. “If this had just been a solo training session, I would have had no problem with you doing what you just did. But in case you forgot, the whole point of this is to prepare us for team combat in real situations, to help us learn to work better, together. Your taking on everything alone wasn’t heroic, it was an obstruction of the purpose of this entire thing.”

She took a step back, suddenly, as if reeling from a blow, though he hadn’t even moved. The training room had gone silent—granted, it hadn’t been very noisy in the first, place, but her voice had been so loud and her words so rapid that Vernon had forgotten the silence. Now it pressed down on him, like another layer to his suit.

She dropped her arms to her sides, fingers curling in and out slightly, her claws retracting under the white gloves. “I know it’s difficult for you having to work with someone against your will,” she said, “and I know you don’t like us very much. But that’s not a good enough reason for you to throw away everything we’ve been training for. If you’re not going to be nice, at least try to be civil.”

She turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Vernon watched her go, right up until the doors slid back in place behind her.

He turned around, only to find the other two staring back at him. “Way to go,” Felix mumbled.

“You totally got schooled right there,” Yangyang said, though he didn’t sound very amused. “You know she takes this training stuff more seriously than any of us.” He shrugged; arms still folded. “Gotta be more sensitive than that.”

“Stop it,” Felix snapped at him, looking annoyed. “She only cares about this so much because it’s the only thing she’s got. You’ve got the Guardians, and I have—had—the X-Men, and probably a bunch of other mutant organizations, like the Frost Academy or something,” he added the last bit in an undertone, “but S.H.I.E.L.D.—after she lost her family, this is the only place she can turn to. That’s her one chance at making it, but this doofus is refusing to cooperate. If it were me, I’d be pretty pissed.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at him, but couldn’t find the strength to argue. Too much about what Felix had said hit right where it hurt. Losing someone you cared about, suddenly having nobody to turn to…he understood how bad that was. But losing your entire family and being displaced from your home? He couldn’t even imagine it.

The earlier annoyance had drained from his body like an ebbing tide, leaving nothing but a hollowness and that damned guilt that seemed to follow him everywhere like an annoying ghost. Oh, well, my fault for having a conscience.

Suddenly tired, he sighed, tearing his eyes from the mutant’s and looking resignedly at a spot on the wall. As much as he would like to have a reason to properly hate his new team, he knew he couldn’t really blame them for any of this. “Where do you think she’ll go?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” Yangyang started.

“Up top,” Felix answered, cutting him off. His irises were rings of ice, but when Vernon looked at him then, they seemed almost warm. “Take the elevator to the left. Make sure you don’t fall off the side—New York’s a long way down.”

#kwritersworldnet #caratwritersclub #seventeen #svt #vernon #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #vernon fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #seventeen x you

[gophergal]

HEY GOTTA 'NOTHER CHAPTER FOR YA. Thank you to @bucketofcowboys for betaing for me! Without his help, I would be pulling weird shakespeare lines outta my ass. He makes my shit sound smooth lol

I'm Not Lonely - Chapter Three

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M |  Michael Myers x OC | M/F

WARNING: Gore, Animal Death

Jean must have fallen asleep at some point while reading to Michael, the book slipping from her hands into her lap. She jolted awake at the sudden weight on her legs, her heart pounding momentarily until her eyes fell on Michael's form, watching as his head tilted inquiringly to the side. He appeared as though he still sat where he had been the night before, still watching her as she slept.

It was strange, obviously, but she couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through her from the human companionship. She was tempted to physically shake the feeling away from her limbs and mind, but restraining herself. The knowledge of why she felt so comforted by him, a man she knew by first name alone and nothing else, filled her with a mixture of shame and annoyance, though she pushed that all to the back of her mind to simmer.

With a yawn, Jean stretched, feeling her back click into place after her poor sleeping position. She stood on stiff legs, feeling the sleep flee from her system as the blood circulated throughout her body. In the kitchen, after a quick bite of breakfast, Jean looked at Michael from the other side of the table, sipping on her coffee as she considered what she had planned for the day.

She'd need to get groceries- the fridge was becoming a bit empty now that she was cooking for two so frequently. That brought another thought to mind, that she really didn't know what Michael liked to eat. Part of her wanted to say, “Fuck it, I'm the one cooking and paying the bills, so what he likes doesn't really matter,” but at the same time she didn't feel like being so harsh.

After cleaning the dishes she and Michael had left in the sink, getting dressed in errand appropriate apparel, and yelling to Michael so he'd know she left, she got in her car and drove toward Haddonfield. The grocery store was relatively quiet today. There were times that it could be a true mad house; hoards of middle aged women being impatient with the young employees of the store while their husbands stood around bored, watching their wild hellions wreck havoc.

Jean shuddered at the image, glad to be in at a slow time as the young cashier greeted her with a smile. The normalcy of this shopping trip was sobering as she placed items into the cart, her mind working slowly to remind her of what was wrong with her current life situation. Unfortunately for that rational part of her mind, she simply continued to mark things off her grocery list. She reached for a pack of Dr Pepper cans, only to bump into an arm. She drew back quickly, pulled out of her muffled thoughts, and looked at the person she bumped into.

“Oh! I'm very sorry, m'am,” the tall woman- no, she was rather young, now that Jean got a look at her, she was simply taller than Jean, who was admittedly quite short. Her fluffy blonde locks swallowed her head as a single mass, the part framing her sharp features. She must be a high school student, Jean thought.

“It's fine, please go ahead. And 'Jean' is fine. I'm not married,” she chuckled, picking a bit at her shirt sleeve.

“Nice to mean you, Jean. I'm Laurie. I... don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new in town, by chance?” The girl asked.

“No, not really. I've lived in the area for my whole life, but I live a bit out of town. Laurie, you seem familiar though.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, I can't place where I've seen you though- Wait, were you one of the people attacked on Halloween night?” Jean asked with a gasp, then immediately wished she hadn't. Laurie looked away quickly, and seemed to struggle for words momentarily and appearing on the verge of tears. “I- I'm really sorry, Laurie. That must have been horrific. Did they ever.... catch the guy?”

“No. He's still on the loose. Sheriff Brackett said he'd do everything he could, but Annie- his daughter- my friend, she-” Laurie cut herself off, not needing to say more for Jean to connect the dots, her shoulder's trembling slightly with the effort to remain composed in this public environment.

“You're a very strong young woman, Laurie. Especially to still be out and about so soon after all of that. I'm sure he'll be caught, too. That type of bastard isn't usually free for long.”

“Thank you. It's been very hard, on everyone.”

“I can imagine.

“Y'know, it may be a weird thing to offer, but if you ever need some help, or someone to talk to, here's my number. I can't say I can truly understand your specific situation, but I've had my fair share of loss, too,” she said, producing a small piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down her home phone number, then handed it to Laurie.

Laurie accepted the paper, dabbing at her eyes slightly with her sweater sleeve, “Thank you, Jean. I might have to take you up on that some time.”

“Don't hesitate, I'd be happy to lend an ear,” Jean replied with a small, warm smile.

The women purchased their groceries and parted way. Talking to Laurie had caused the trip to take longer than intended and now the sun was creeping lower, the brightness slightly too intense to be comfortable. Jean got into her car, the paper bags of food on the passenger side, and she left. The intense, golden light highlighted the trees which were now barren of their leaves. That and the chilly air harbingers of the coming winter. Jean worried her mind with the thought that she would have to fix some of the roofing of her home before the wet snow came down and buried the world.

There would be time to do that, for now she had other things to think about, such as her new housemate. Despite, his impromptu move in almost two weeks prior, she still knew nothing about him aside from his name. She hadn't even seen his face before, she realized, causing a slight hum of anxiety to spread through her body. Something in her kept screaming at her to do something about it, but as she drove toward her home, that voice grew quiet.

There were no lights on when she arrived, and no sign of Michael as she put away the groceries. Aside from a couple empty food wrappers in the sink, which greatly irritated her, it was the same as before he first visited her. Perhaps he'd left for the night. She didn't know where he went when wasn't at her home, but frankly she wasn't his keeper and had no responsibility to keep track of him. He was a grown man, after all. She placed the case of soda on the counter and, with a yawn, piloted her weary body toward the stairs.

She instinctively skipped the creaky step, nearly losing her balance to fatigue. At the top of the stairs, she noticed that her bedroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of moonlight beaming through the crack, a strange occurrence as her habit was to close the door at all times. She drew closer, cautious and uneasy now, and gently pushed open the door, supporting it with her body and praying that the squeaky hinge would remain silent.

The door now open, she could see a lump under the covers on her bed, poking out from the top a curly, dark mass. She let out a small gasp of breath when she noticed the white, fleshy sheet on her nightstand. Michael's mask. This was Michael who'd stolen her bed. Even at rest, there was a tension to him, eyebrows contorted and face twisted into a slight grimace. Yet, she noticed her hand drawing closer to his hair as if it were magnetic. She pulled her traitorous appendage back, foiling it's mission to tenderly push back a brown lock from his forehead.

A slight glint of reflected light caught her attention, her eye sweeping over the sleeping form to see the metal blade of a kitchen knife in his hand. He had a white-knuckle grip on it that did not waver with the haze of sleep. It chilled her. She began backing away, unwilling to take back her bed that night and unsure if she would even be able to sleep. Still, as she stepped gingerly out of the room, the couch called to her downstairs.

The next few days were uneventful. She worked, she came home, sometimes she had to take the couch. Michael didn't seem to leave at all, yet he seemed out of place in the house, having nothing change around him. Tonight would be her last night of work for the week and she was excited to have some time to rest on her day off. She sat across from Michael at the kitchen table, taking occasional glances at his masked face, imagining the man beneath. He sat like a wax figure, unmoving and unphased.

“I have to work again tonight, I can't really tell you what to do, but I'd appreciate you locking the door if you go somewhere,” she told him. While she awaited his lack of response she wondered what he even did while she was away, though she ultimately decided that ignorance was preferable to knowing something she'd regret. Besides, she had things to do before she left for work that evening. The sun was low in the sky as she put on her dusty pink uniform dress and black flats.

Michael watched her leave the house from his spot in the kitchen, waiting for the security of an empty house. Once the coast was clear he ripped the mask from his face, the latex of it clinging to his greasy brown locks in his haste to eat. He grimaced at the tugging sensation, placing his second face on the table next to him. As food was shoveled into his mouth messily like a child, he decided on what he'd do that day. It seemed a good day to snoop through his host's home because, surprisingly, he hadn't already. If he thought about how different this was from any other time he'd stalked prey for too long, it would only confuse him. At the same time, he was reminded constantly by the Shape that it would all end soon, soon enough the pleasure of killing the woman would outweigh the benefit of keeping her alive.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, putting the plate into the sink rather carelessly with a clink. The house was rather uncluttered, with few items in the cupboards and cabinets. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell. Still, bland as it was, it was far more welcoming than the white walls and antiseptic smells of Smith's Grove. Of that place, those were all he could remember clearly, everything else was shrouded in a drugged haze, a curtain of accusation and rough hands holding him down when the doctor ordered. A few small moments of kindness from nurses and orderlies peeked through the curtains here and there, but even those paled in comparison to how Jean was. The Shape scoffed at the idea, reminding him that if she knew the evil that everyone else had, she too would end up as another barrier between him and freedom, and such barriers were meant to be torn down.

The stairs creaked as he climbed, and the photos on the wall watched him closely. Upon closer look he saw a woman, looking much like slightly older Jean, alongside a little girl and an old man. He pulled it off the wall for a closer look. Smiling faces, a happy family, though shaped differently than his own had been. The girl looked to be the same age he'd been on that night so many years ago. He tossed the frame onto the carpeted floor after the top step, not caring for what that last thought brought to mind.

On the upper floor, more pictures were on the walls and now he noticed how few actually showed the older woman. They formed a sort of jumbled timeline, the little girl growing taller until he recognized her as Jean at various ages. A few had only her, no sign of the old man or the woman, and he took one from the wall. She was dressed nicely, her back to the glowing sunrise, making her messy blonde hair appear as a fiery golden halo. He decided that he liked it and held onto it as he kept wandering though his host's home.

The Shape became restless at some point, it's voice growing more frantic and incomprehensible with the passing minutes. Michael was tired though, the thrill of the hunt would be dampened by his lack of sleep. The Shape grew louder, demanding blood, gracing his mind with sudden images of what he could do to satisfy it. He ground his teeth, fist clenching and un-clenching as he tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. He needed rest. The Shape could wait, surely. There would be more prey, more chances. The hardest night was over, and he was unlikely to be caught while he stayed with Jean. Frustrated, he relented, giving in to the grating presence of the Shape. He stomped downstairs, muscles growing tense with each heavy breath.

The diner was relatively quiet that night, only two men were at a booth in the front. A not-quite-elderly duo of middle-aged men with greying dark hair, one taller and mustached, the other weaselly in appearance. Jean hurried to the booth to take their order, “Hey, what can I get you two gentlemen tonight?”

“I'll take a tenderloin sandwich, slice o' apple pie, a black coffee,” said the mustached man.

“Cheesecake, black coffee,” the weaselly man said. With that, Jean nodded and smiled, leaving to take the order to Gus, tuning in to their conversation as she walked away.

“Eh, you know about that one bastard that's been on the loose since Halloween?” Asked the weaselly man.

“Yeah, of course I do. I watch the news. What about it?”

“I've heard that he's twenty bodies in now.”

“The police say that?”

“No, they wouldn't and you know it. I've heard it from a few buddies.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Haddonfield's never had so many suspicious deaths, bud. It's gotta be a bit more than a coinkydink that they'd ramp up after this guy starts killin'.” Jean brought the men their orders and they quieted down on the morbid talk for a bit. The weaselly man rubbed hands together excitedly as Jean set down his cheesecake. The tall man shook his head light heartedly.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” the tall man said. Jean smiled, holding back the urge to roll her eyes at the unwanted pet name. She left to wipe down the other booth tables in the room.

“Anyway, I heard that the cops are broadening their search to the surrounding area,” said the weasel, “been some sightings of a masked man wearing a blue jumpsuit around some houses on the outskirts of town.” Jean found that the description was unsettlingly familiar.

“C'mon, that could just be some kid in a dime store mask and his dad's coveralls.”

“After halloween?”

“Yeah, y'know how kids are. Not sayin' its good, those kids might get themselves killed.”

“Isn't that what happened to that one highschool football player? Tramer, I think his name was.”

“Yeah, just like that. Police thought he was Michael Myers and he got run over. Well, on accident , of course,” The tall man said, putting air quotes around “accident” and then took a bite of his tenderloin sandwich.

“And what a damn shame it is. Poor kid had so much potential. Might as well add him to the body count.”

Jean stopped wiping the table she was standing at. She felt the blood rush from her face, her heart dropped into her stomach, and bile rose in her throat. It all was too much. Her head spun, making the connections, remaking the connections, denying the truth. Her knees felt weak.

“Woah, miss, you good? If all this murder talk is getting to you, we can stop. You look like you're about to pass out,” the mustached man asked her, voice laced with concern.

“I-” she started, swallowing hard, “I'm okay, I think my blood sugar's just low. I'll be back,” she finished, leaving quickly to go back to the kitchen where Jo and Gus chatted. Jean pushed past, throwing open the back door and pressing her back to the brick wall of the diner outside. She breathed hard, shaking hands gripping her skirt as her legs threatened to give beneath her.

Jo burst out a moment later, worried. She put her hands on Jean's shoulders, words coming out of her mouth, but not reaching Jean's ears. She shook Jo's hands off, reclaiming her composure. “I'm fine, Jo, I guess all that talk about the killer on the loose got to me,” she said. It wasn't quite a lie.

“Are you sure you'll be alright? You live alone and now I'm worried about you,” Jo asked.

“It's fine. I'm fine. I promise.”

“Okay, I'll drop it, but if you ever need anything, you know where I am.”

“I do,” Jean nodded. She wouldn't drag Jo into this. This was her own problem, and Jo might very well get hurt. She considered asking Gus to help her, he was a large guy, someone she could trust, and she was sure he would do anything to help if she asked. Then she reconsidered. She'd never be able to forgive herself if she got him hurt. No, she'd have to take care of this herself, somehow.

There was a creeping feeling on her back as the eerie twilight faded into blackness as she drove. There were no stars in the sky, yet the full moon cast it's silvery glow on the earth below, bathing the landscape in a strange dream-like contrast. It was slightly hypnotic, feeding her unease. Once she arrived at her home, she turned the knob on the front door, now aware of the lights left on in the house. She pushed open the door, breaching the barrier between her feeling of environmental disorientation and her nauseating awareness of the room before her.

A sharp scent of salt and copper was in the air, horrifically mixing with the familiar smells of the house, corrupting them in the dim light from upstairs. Before she could bring herself to flip the light switch, she surveyed the dark room, eyes falling on a dark, crumpled form at the bottom of the staircase. Pooling below it, a reflective, dark liquid that appeared black in the shadow of the heap.

She flipped the switch, eyes screwed shut. She finally found the courage to open her eyes, and regretted it. Tears pricked her eyes, a mixture of shock and disgust, as she looked at the crumpled canine body at the bottom of the stairs. The dog, once a charming golden brown, was now stained with the rust colored blood that had kept it alive. Gruesomely, its abdomen was torn open, broken ribs visible alongside the snaking internal organs.

A sound ripped itself from Jean's lips and she looked around the room. The first aid kit was strewn about on the coffee table, the couch soaked in red. Dried blood was tracked everywhere, shoe prints from the back door to the living room, dried droplets leading up the stairs, a smeared hand print on the wall. At the top of the stairs, her bedroom door was ajar. A horrible, sickening curiosity gripped her, guiding her around the discarded carcass and up the stairs.

Her heart pounded as she froze in front of the door, mind blank, her survival instincts screaming at her to run. Run far away. You are prey. You will die and then you will feed this horrible predator. She swallowed down these instincts somehow, and pushed open the door. Blood had been dripped from the threshold to her bed. Then she saw him. On her bed. Her clean, comfortable bed with the soft, white sheets. His filthy, blood-stained jumpsuit was touching her once clean, comfortable sheets. Her knees no longer quivered below her. Her prey-like instincts cowered away as something snapped within. She was fucking pissed.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing in my goddamn bed?! My home?! My FUCKING SHEETS, you bastard!” She shook, no longer in fear- no, that ship had passed along with her pure white sheets- her hands shook with the desire to express her feelings violently.

Michael jumped up almost comically as though he'd been stabbed with a straight pin. He nearly fell, then fumbled for the white latex he treated as his face, then pulled it on. The knife he slept with had clattered to the floor in his struggle, and had been kicked under the bed. He whipped himself around to look at Jean, then stalked to her. Jean held her ground. He was a mere two steps from her, the difference in height and mass between them highlighted by the closeness.

“You've got three goddamn choices. First, you could kill me. Go ahead, I fucking dare you. Second, you could leave. Go somewhere, leave me the fuck alone. Or, you could stay here, follow my rules, have a steady supply of food and somewhere to sleep. Make your choice, Michael,” she growled, glaring into shadowed eyeholes of his mask.She bared her teeth, seething as he put a massive hand, covered in dried dog blood, around her neck. He did not squeeze, simply held it there firmly as he waited for the Shape's instruction.

The instruction to snap her neck did not come. The Shape remained silent. He had expected fear. That was common- expected even- in his prey. They would run, or try to fight back. Some tried to submit, begging him not to snuff out their lives. Anger though, that was reserved for the exceptionally stupid. Yet something was beginning to make itself clear, Jean was not stupid, exceptionally or otherwise. Rage continued to flare in her slate grey eyes as Michael released her neck, an alluring red stain coiled around it. He marveled at the mark as she turned away, stomping down the stairs away from him.

Watch that one, the Shape demanded. Michael agreed to the Shape's demand. He would definitely watch her. She had his attention now.

#michael myers #slasher x oc #slashers #michael myers x oc #gopher writes #I'm Not Lonely #it has been.... 4 months

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Said and Done

anonymous asked:

Reader is sick. Geralt has been distant lately so he hasn't noticed that they're sick. All of of them are invited to this party-thingy. Yen is there. Then reader realizes why he has been so distant lately. He's been thinking abt Yen. Reader wants to sing Jaskier warns against it. They sing "God is a woman." By ariana grande. Even though they're sick, they nail the high notes and belts .Geralt feels guilty for not noticing reader was sick because he's been distant. Reader leaves Jaskier is pissed

A/N: Before this fic, I had never listened to this song, and I didn’t do exactly what anon requested, but I hope it still works for you. :)

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: sick!reader, angst, fluff

You, you love it how I move you You love it how I touch you My one, when all is said and done You'll believe God is a woman

Your misfortune began with poison, thick and blue, slipped into a glass of ale and stirred until fully incorporated. No one knew who had slipped it into your drink, and they were long gone by the time you had started vomiting across the floor. At first you thought it was food poisoning and then a bug, but when it hadn’t stopped and Jaskier had shown up at your door with a vile, filled with the aforementioned liquid, the situation became much more sinister. So, while you laid in bed desperately trying to keep nutrients in your body, Geralt searched for your assassin and Jaskier searched for an antidote.

And I, I feel it after midnight A feelin' that you can't fight My one, it lingers when we're done You'll believe God is a woman

The antidote came first, along with a very worried bard who helped you into a warm bath and spent most of his earnings on purchasing a feast to help you get back into the groove. You were his costar after all, so it was no surprise that with the summer solstice coming up he needed you in tip top condition. He assured you that it had nothing to do with that, and he simply wanted you to be healthy, but you could tell by the way that he glanced at the sun from the window that he was keeping track of how many days until the festival began. As the days dragged on your health slowly improved, but with a certain Witcher’s absence, the worry that churned in your stomach wasn’t very helpful in easing the illness that wracked your body.

I don't wanna waste no time, yeah You ain't got a one-track mind, yeah Have it any way you like, yeah And I can tell that you know I know how I want it

Then, as if the air could feel your longing, he was beside your bed, cradling your hand. Physically he was back by your side, but something felt off. It seemed impossible to catch his eye and every moment that he was by your side was laced with something almost uncomfortable. You wanted to know what he had learned while searching, but he had insisted that he had found nothing. A feat that, even in your delusional state, seemed near impossibility. He had never failed to find what he was looking for, especially when it was important, but now he lay at your bedside with nothing but a distant look in his eyes.

Ain't nobody else can relate Boy, I like that you ain't afraid Baby, lay me down and let's pray I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it

At first you didn’t notice the way he wouldn’t catch your eye or the way his hand pulled away when you reached for him. When you quietly whispered through the darkness, asking him if he was alright, he only offered a grunt in response. You were worried he was ill, that something terrible had happened on his journey, but one day you had noticed that Jaskier was still treated like a friend worthy of conversing with. It was just you, and for a second you feared he was preparing for you to die. While Jaskier fussed over your health, begging you to eat something or reprimanding you when you tried to stand, Geralt watched you with hooded eyes, saying nothing at all.

And I can be all the things you told me not to be When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing And he see the universe when I'm the company It's all in me

This difference became even more apparent the morning of the summer solstice. Even though the rolling in your stomach had not ceased and the room danced around you like drunken ballerinas, you sat up. With great effort you pulled yourself to the closet and threw it open, searching for the dress that had been purchased for the night. It was one of the most expensive garments you had ever owned, a gift from the man who had hired you to sing as the sun finally set. The white silk shimmered with every shift, the threads of gold that had been littered through sparkling like the sun rays that turned the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange before it settled beneath the mountains. It was beautiful, and you prayed that you would not empty the contents of your stomach onto its intricated designs.

You were pulling it over your head when Jaskier and Geralt entered the room, both already prepared for the festivities.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier gasped while Geralt merely narrowed his eyes at the skirt of your dress.

“I’m getting ready,” you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Jaskier’s eyes seemed to bug out of his head, and even Geralt spared you a look of disbelief.

“You’re ill,” Jaskier protested and you shook your head.

“The show must go on. I’ve performed in worse,” you shrugged, balancing yourself against the doorframe, daring either to see through your lie. They, of course, did.

You, you love it how I move you You love it how I touch you My one, when all is said and done You'll believe God is a woman

But you went nonetheless. At first, Jaskier had insisted on staying with you but you sent him away with a persistent glare and the insistence that you would not hesitate to punch him. The fresh air against your sickly pale face was wonderful and the smell of flowers and baking fruit filled every nerve in your body. You couldn’t believe you had considered not coming, when here, out in the open, you felt healthier than you had in weeks. The laughter of children and sight of woman dancing to Jaskier’s lute seemed to be the only antidote you needed. It’s not to say that your stomach did not still ache and that when the sun glinted a little too brightly you didn’t wince, but you felt far better than you had even before the poisoning. Everything seemed wonderful, until you spotted them.

And I, I feel it after midnight A feelin' that you can't fight My one, it lingers when we're done You'll believe God is a woman

Tucked away in a corner, beneath a booth of brightly colored scarves was Geralt, and his lovely little wage. Suddenly, everything made sense. The distance, the lack of eye contact, the length at which had taken him to return to your side. He had reconnected with Yennefer. Truth be told, you would be surprised if he had even bothered looking for an antidote once he had found her. She was in great contrast to you, but still he seemed enthralled with every breath she took. Part of you wanted to march over to his side and let him have it, but the other part, a more sane part, allowed you to fade back into the crowd before he noticed you.

I'll tell you all the things you should know So, baby, take my hand, save your soul We can make it last, take it slow, hmm And I can tell that you know I know how I want it, yeah

You avoided the couple for the rest of day, ducking behind carts and hiding behind crowds of dancing couples. You even avoided Jaskier until the sun began to set and you needed you accompaniment for your performance.

“You’re not going to sing,” he insisted but you laughed at him.

“That’s the whole reason we’re here. We can’t disappoint.”

“You’re ill.”

“Just barely.”

“I saw you throwing up half an hour ago.”

“I’ll be fine. This is important to me, and if you don’t want to join me I’ll do it without you.” He sighed in defeat and hefted his lute over his shoulder, motioning for you to lead the way to the stage.

But you're different from the rest And boy, if you confess, you might get blessed See if you deserve what comes next I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it

You took your place in the center and bowed deeply to your employer. The dress he had bought was now glistening like that of an angels, and the crowd was watching you intently. Over the hundreds of heads you could see your Witcher and his mage, staring at you very intently. You sent him the strongest smile you could manage and motioned for the instruments to begin playing. It was almost too easy to come up with the lyrics, to rub in the message that was so important for Geralt to understand. They came easily and before you knew it you were singing, high notes and all.

And I can be all the things you told me not to be When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing And he see the universe when I'm the company It's all in me

With every note you sang, your stomach churned and you grew a little more lightheaded but you refused to fall when you had a point to make. You had to make him understand, you just had to. You couldn’t bare the idea of him leaving you for Yennefer, not after everything you had been through. You forced every ounce of pain, every ounce of sickness, every ounce of hatred, and every ounce of strength you could muster. Through the song you could feel tears bubbling beneath the surface, but you kept singing.

You, you love it how I move you You love it how I touch you My one, when all is said and done You'll believe God is a woman

The world was going black as the song was finishing. The world was hazy and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the song. And you soon found out that wasn’t much longer. Jaskier had his arms around you and lowered you to the ground before your head could come in contact with the stage beneath you. The crowd around you was gasping and murmuring, rushing forward to check on the star who had fallen before them. You could see Jaskier hovering over you, brushing away stray locks of hair. Even more surprisingly the familiar white hair of your Witcher was tickling your cheek.

And I, I feel it after midnight A feelin' that you can't fight My one, it lingers when we're done You'll believe God is a woman, yeah, yeah

“Y/N,” he yelled, cradling your head, fanning you with about as much grace as someone so big could manage. “Y/N, wake up.”

“Go away,” you groaned pushing him away, turning your eyes away from his with a jerk. “Back to Yennefer.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, she made me, for the antidote,” he begged you, pulling your hand into his. You allowed your eyes to drift back to his and were surprised to find tears running down his face. “I have it, and you’re going to get better.”

“I have you,” you whispered and he nodded, pulling you closer, the little bottle filled with your life force held tightly in his hand, and with the way he was looking at you, you knew that this treacherous chapter in your life was all said and done.

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