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wearywinchester · 3 years

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Not Going Anywhere

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When he nearly loses you, Dean finds he can’t stand the thought of that happening.

Requested by Anonymous: “May I please request a one shot of dean and reader with her having an internal bleeding. You know when the character seems fine but then boom they collapse and turns out they're not fine at all?? I LIIIVE for that shit... The shock, the realization, the worry....”

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: angst, injury, bleeding, shock, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, guilt, fluff

You sat slumped in the backseat of the Impala, exhausted from the hunt. Fortunately, it’d been close to the bunker, close enough that you didn’t need a motel room overnight. Close enough that the drive hadn’t been terribly long like most cases were. You felt like you’d been run over by a semi two times over, a certain weakness running through you that left you feeling less than okay.

You watched quietly as the rain came down and trickled against the chilled windows of the car, falling into each other as they raced down the glass before fresh ones took their place in an instant. It was gloomy weather, something you could have found yourself seeking comfort in on any given day, something that otherwise would have been cozy had you not felt the way you did.

But you did, and it wasn’t leaving any time soon.

Dean had the heat cranked up because he could see that you were cold, could tell by the way you wrapped your arms around yourself. The ache and burn in your stomach had yet to subside, Dean having cleaned your wound before setting off to go home earlier that day, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

You were less than comfortable, as far from it as you could be as you sat behind Sam. You missed the way Dean had glanced at you in the rear view more often than not, his concern evident in the crease between his brows, deepening each and every time he looked. He saw your agitation, the way your face contorted in discomfort as you slumped against the seat. You couldn’t sit still even if your life depended on it, constantly moving in your seat despite the way the hurt in your abdomen is screaming at you otherwise.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so restless in your life more than you were in that moment, anxiety settling in heavily the more you sat stuck in that car. There wasn’t anything in particular for you to feel this way over—you’d ridden in this car more times than you could count for years, having sat in the very same spot for far longer than this trip has been before. You’d done it all before without fail, without a problem, but this time was different.

It was different and he knew it.

Any other time you’d start a conversation about any and everything, singing along with him to nearly any song that came on the radio for the sake of getting on Sam’s nerves. Any other time you’d take a nap if you were tired, especially on a day like that where the clouds and rain offered ample comfort to allow you to do so, but this wasn’t any other time. This time you looked like you were two seconds from hopping out at the next red light, and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Sweetheart, you okay back there?” He calls out over his shoulder.

You’re not even sure if the words came out of his mouth, not even sure if you heard him as you shifted your gaze. When he didn’t get a response he looked in his mirror at you, calling out your name once more with more concern than the last.

You sat up a little straighter, glancing at him with eyes squinted slightly in confusion. “‘M fine, De.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced of that, not even a little bit as you blinked, trying to gather yourself a bit more than in that moment as he turned down the road that led to the bunker. You had a habit of saying you’re fine when you’re not, and you’re so clearly the opposite and he finds himself grateful he’s home, you’re home. But that doesn’t soothe the worry boiling over in the pit of his stomach, clouding his mind of anything and everything revolving around you.

Your words were merely words as they fell from your lips, that feeling simmering within you feeling awfully bad as you sit there, as the impala descended down into the bunker’s garage. The fluorescent lights were harsh on your eyes, your wince inevitable as you fought the groan sitting in the back of your throat. Dean didn’t need to be worrying over you, though he surely already was.

You think you just need a rest, a few hours sleeping in your own bed would do you some good. It had to.

You hadn’t fully registered the fact that the car had come to a stop, put in park in its usual spot and it gave Dean enough time to round the back end of it before you tried to get out on your own. When he pulls the door open you’ve got that look, one that tugs at his heart because you look so miserable, so tired and defeated. He crouches down closer to your level as you sit there, watches as you take a deep breath to try and steady the race of your heart. To try and calm the queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, eyes on you in search of any indication that you’d been listening. You were, you really were, but you were trying to get a handle on how you felt. “Baby, we’re home.”

You nod then, turning your head to look at him with a soft smile in an attempt to assure him you’d heard him. He stood to his feet and held his hand out, gentle as he helped out of the car. You tried to ignore the rush that came down over you the moment you got up, tried to swallow down the intensifying nausea that’d swirled around in your stomach just begging to come up. You tried your hardest and it was proving to be a challenge.

You were dizzy when you stood to your feet, almost overwhelming, but you were quick to balance yourself and you brushed it off. You’d been in the car for the past two hours, doing nothing but sit in the same position for the majority of that time and you’d yet to eat or drink anything. A little dizziness seemed reasonable upon standing in your mind, not to mention the way your head had been hurting for nearly the same amount of time as the drive home.

You felt his hand slip from yours in favor of wrapping around you to steady you, to help you as you walked but you shrugged him off just as quickly, flashing him a look.

“De, I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss over me,” you say, and the look on his face shows just how much he disagrees with you. You could see it with the dimples forming by the very corners of his mouth and the raise of his eyebrow.

“Y/n—”

“I’m serious. I just need a little sleep and I’ll be fine,” you say, smiling once more in hopes he’d settle down, but you knew he wouldn’t.

It took a few moments, but eventually he dropped his hand to his side reluctantly and eyed you carefully, cautious as he watched you walk ahead into the bunker’s hallway towards your shared room. He knew you better than you thought, better than you knew yourself. He knew you like the back of his hand, but you were just as stubborn as he was and that’s the problem.

You flickered between bouts of nausea and none at all, between feeling fine, like you said you were, and feeling like you’d been drug all the way home tied to the trunk of the Impala. It was something that worsened the more you dwelled on the feeling, something you wished would subside.

You felt a beat of relief upon seeing the golden eleven mounted on that familiar wooden door come into view just down the hall, could smell the faint scent of Dean’s cologne wafting over you as he walked by towards Sam.

You were almost there, then you could lay down for a good long while, tuck yourself into that memory foam bed that was unbelievably comfortable and smelled every bit like Dean, and rest like you’d been longing to do since the moment you left to come home that day. You could rest in the comfort of your shared space for as long as you needed to get better. You were almost there.

But you weren’t.

In that moment, you felt like you were miles away from your destination, you felt like the conversation the two of them were having just a few feet away had been miles away from you, their voices muffled far more than they should be for how close they’d really been to you.

You slowed yourself to a wavering stop for a minute just to gather yourself a little more than you were then and there, reaching out for the wall that was just a little farther than you anticipated it to be. Your ears began to ring slightly, gradually, as that same nausea made its unpleasant return in your stomach, eyes squeezing shut just for a moment. You weren’t aware of just how awful you looked in that moment, but you knew it couldn’t have been too good if it was a reflection of how you were feeling in that very same moment. To be quite honest you felt like you’d just run a marathon with the way you couldn’t catch your breath, with the way your heart had been hammering within your chest at a faster than normal pace.

You felt like a walking, breathing disaster, and sure enough, you looked like it too.

Dean’s brows furrowed when he followed Sam’s gaze, to you, to you who stood there unsure of yourself as a flurry of emotions flashed over your face within a second’s time. A number of emotions, none of anything positive being displayed and it intensified the worries he’d had running through him. A sheen of sweat had glistened over your skin despite the chill that ran through you, your vision doubled as you opened your eyes once more to try and give Dean a glance.

“Y/n?” Your name fell from his lips, soft and hesitant at first as the initial confusion took over, his mouth going dry as he approached you.

“I’m…” you start, nodding your head as you swallow thickly. “I’m fine, Dean. I just…"

Your words were failing you, your ability to form a coherent thought failing you in that moment as you lost all means of balance, teetering on the edge of collapsing before you’d gone and done it. The shout of your name had come off as an echo to you, the impact of the floor having been cold and unforgiving as you fell, too weak to catch yourself.

He hated just how limp you felt in his arms as he knelt beside you, the pain jolting through him from dropping to his knees on the concrete floor having been the very least of his concerns as he watched you. Panic had lanced through him as your head lulled, caught in the crook of his arm as his other hand grabbed your face. Despite the sweat gleaming across your skin, your cheeks were void of any heat that you’d expect to feel and it only added to his upset.

“Y/n!” He called out, your brows furrowing as you felt yourself go from bad to worse, a steady declining feeling blanketing you. “Sweetheart, stay with me.”

His voice was loud, carrying through the winding hall in an echoing display of his fear, the sound taunting him as it bounced off the walls. You nodded weakly, despite the way your heartbeat hammered loudly in your ears enough to muffle what he’d been saying to Sam, or the way you couldn’t hold yourself up if it weren’t for the way he held you. Despite that, you nodded for him.

That ache from the wound you’d walked away from that hunt with was still very much there, that you knew. You knew things didn’t look good for you in that moment, not with the way Dean looked at you as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, or the fear in his eyes when he’d pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, your pulse faint but bounding beneath his fingertips. Things were continuing to go from bad to worse, to far beyond that and you knew that wasn’t a good sign.

You knew it the moment that feeling hit you in the car an hour earlier and the panic you felt was only increasing the more you thought things over.

You should have said something then, you know that now. You should have stopped saying you were fine when you so clearly weren’t, should have stopped doing what you always do and downplay a situation in fear of thinking about the outcome. You should have known better than to think it’d be as easy as Dean patching you up, not after what that spirit did to you. Nothing in hunting is ever as good as it seems, as easy as it seems, and you should have said something earlier.

Because now, now you were quite sure you were facing your fate when you didn’t have time to prepare for it. And that’s what scared you the most. It could have been something trivial, that’s what you’d been longing for it to be, but you knew it was just your own denial telling you that.

“Dean,” you say, taking a breath as you look up at him. The green eyes you loved so much were filled with a kind of emotion you never liked to see. “I—I just want you to know—”

“No, no c’mon. We’re not doing this sweetheart, okay?”

Nausea hit him like a ton of bricks at the sight of the crimson that slowly began to stain your teeth when you coughed, rage bursting through him in waves over the situation he doesn’t know how to control the ending of. Over the fact that he doesn’t think he can control the outcome for the love of his life in his very arms. He knows nothing in this life is guaranteed, not for the life of someone who hunts the world’s worst monsters.

He’s lost so much in his life, but damn does this one hurt.

“I don’t feel so good,” you murmur instead, watching the expressions flicker across his face through half closed eyes as you groan, brows furrowing at the expression he’d been looking at you with. “What is it?”

He couldn’t tell you what he saw, he wouldn’t do it.

“I know you don’t,” he says softly, chuckling despite it being void of humor, running his hand over your head. “I know you don’t but you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?”

All you could do was hum and nod, a soft noise you can’t quite tell had left your lips as the weight of your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. You were tired, that much was true. But he tapped your cheek with his hand lightly, grabbing ahold of your face.

“Don’t do that,” he urged, “please, don’t do that.”

He looked to Sam, a mirrored look of panic looking back at him that didn’t do much to soothe his stresses.

He feels near paralyzed when his gaze drops to you again, your eyes closed. He’d grabbed your face and called your name till his throat felt like sandpaper, till it felt like he swallowed a thousand knives he shouted your name. He held you tight in his arms as his mind worried in a frenzy of fear, calling out desperately for the one person that could help.

Cas.

If there was one thing that Dean Winchester knew how to do, it was worry. He’d worry himself to death over the ones he loved, in fact, there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep them safe. But worry is what he’d done for the last two and a half hours and nothing else.

If it was possible, one might think he’d wear a hole in the floor from his pacing at the foot of the bed in the bunkers infirmary. Cas had come in a moment’s notice much to Dean’s relief, had swooped in quite literally and healed you the way he hoped you could be.

It turns out that spirit had done more than just graze you, had gone a little deeper than either of you had thought. It turns out you’d been bleeding more than just on the surface, and that it hadn’t actually slowed to a stop once he’d patched you up back there. You were bleeding this whole time, you just didn’t know it until it almost became too late.

It all made sense now, the way you were acting in the car. The restlessness, the agitation and the way you couldn’t sit still. He knew there was something wrong even when you refused to admit it, and he hated it when you did that. Hated it when you kept your pain to yourself when you really didn’t need to, in favor of staving his worry and trying to be independent, and that’s something he knew well.

But that wasn’t the point, the point was you were lying there in that bed almost within an inch of your life had Cas not come. The point was he nearly lost you in his arms and he couldn’t help the blame that sparked and burst within him that maybe he shouldn’t have believed you when you said you were fine. He didn’t, but he felt he should have kept pushing, kept prying to get you to admit it. Thinking that maybe he should have known there was more to that injury by the way your face crinkled up when it happened, by the way you fell to the floor for a moment or two before you stood back on your feet.

He felt like this was on him, and it was tearing him up from the inside out.

Dean ran through a myriad of emotions that night, each one hitting harder than the last. He was scared, the mere thought of losing someone he found himself rapidly not being able to see himself living without having scared him more than he’d care to even admit. He was angry, his fear masked behind clenched jaws and hands running through hair, chairs kicked and chest heaving. Angry at himself for not having gotten to you sooner back there.

It was a never ending cycle of fear and anger and guilt, a cycle he felt he’d always feel in one way or another so long as the ones he loves keep getting hurt when he feels he has the means to prevent it somehow.

For the better part of that two hours, apart from the anxious pacing, he sat at your side as you rested. He was reluctant to leave your side should something happen again. He couldn’t handle that and he knew it. He sat there with his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. He held your hand for a while, thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles as his foot tapped and his knee bounced subconsciously.

For the better part of that two hours, the events of what lead up to that point had replayed in his mind over and over in a taunting loop, having worsened the feeling he held each and every time it restarted. Each time he recalled something more in the way you’d looked in the car, in the way you acted, in the way you felt in his arms.

Cas had to tell him a million times over that you’d be okay. That wound on your stomach had been healed, everything had been healed as though it was never there. He told him a thousand times over that you were stable, you were okay. You were okay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to get over it just yet.

The last time Cas had said it was when he believed it, it was when he couldn’t be in that room another second otherwise he just might crack. He couldn’t bear to see you laying there like that, no matter the fact that you were just fine. It made his stomach churn and twist in knots.

He left, the stack of lore books swept off the table in the library in his wake, a string of curses leaving his lips. He went to your shared room first, the door slamming roughly behind him. He was angry at no one else but himself despite the fact that he shouldn’t be, but he’ll beg to differ on that a thousand times over.

When you woke up, the infirmary was empty. You’d seen the chair at your bedside that hadn’t normally been there. And if it wasn’t telling enough of Dean’s presence, the weight of his jacket splaying warmly overtop of you was sure to make it all the more obvious he’d been there.

You were sore as you sat up, stiff from having been laying in the same position for an amount of time you were sure of. But, when you lifted the hem of your shirt, that burning wound had no longer resided where it’d been. That nausea had since dissolved, that headache had gone away for the most part, and the weakness you felt, the dizziness, it’d all gone away. You knew it was done with the help of no one other than Cas.

You were sure Dean had been there with you for quite some time, but you also knew Dean better than to think he’d handle it well. You knew by the way you’d woken up by yourself that he’d handled it horribly. He gets worked up over injuries that are on a smaller scale, but this, this was far different than that. Inches from meeting your fate had been much too different than that and you knew he’d disappeared to sulk by himself.

You sighed when you pushed yourself off the bed, leaving the empty infirmary before navigating the bunker. The sight of the books splaying messily across the floor had been an indication of something you already suspected, the quiet in the air having added to the tension only followed when one of the three of you had been angry.

Your bedroom was empty, the blankets stretching over to his side of the bed having been wrinkled some from where he’d been sitting. A photo of the two of you had been sitting there on the nightstand, half-tucked under the base of the lamp sitting lit atop it, the drawer not closed all the way.

The Impala was still in the garage where he’d parked it hours ago, a frown tugging at your lips at the sight of the very hallway everything had taken place.

You knew where he’d be at this hour, at one where everyone should be asleep. Sam had been, you were sure of that, but if Dean hadn’t been in either of those places, you knew where he’d be.

A knowing sigh left your lips as you stepped down into the kitchen, the very one you’d been looking for sitting at the table. You saw the bottle of whiskey on the table and you saw the glass in his hand. You saw the way his hair had been a ruffled mess and you saw the ivory of his knuckles as he held that very same glass. You knew that all too well, you knew he’d been all sorts of torn up inside. He was.

“Knew I’d find you here,” you say, his head turning at the sound of your voice.

You could see the relief flooding his expression as he looked up at you, at the way his eyes widened and the way his face lit up just a little bit more than before, though it didn’t take long for the crease between his brows to deepen once more as you sat down next to him. He’s quiet for a moment before he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, and another as his next words are murmured against your skin.

“Sweetheart, you should be in bed, you’ve been through it today.”

You could hear the fatigue in the softness of his tone, could feel his nose brush against your temple before he turned away.

“Without you?” Your words are lighter as a soft smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles, half-humorous as he shakes his head, swirling the whiskey around in his glass. He swallows thickly, thoughts weighing heavy on his mind as a million words sit on the tip of his tongue. You knew a little humor didn’t do much to stave off that feeling he held.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, head shaking before he brings the glass up to his mouth and swallows the rest of his drink, pouring himself another.

You saw the way his eyes were rimmed a pale shade of pink. Dean Winchester wasn’t one to cry too often, but you could always tell when he had been. His eyes were red and so was the very tip of his nose, flushed a soft pink and the quiver in his lip hadn’t quite left just yet.

“I’m serious, Dean. I’m okay.”

“Well you weren’t a few hours ago, Y/n. You were damn near dead,” he says, louder than before as his jaw tenses.

“Well I’m not,” you counter, the huff that puffs through his nose an indication of his frustration.

“I’m glad this is just another day to you, Y/n.”

He brings his hands up to his face, rubbing over it in frustration as he sniffs. You saw that quiver just a little more now, one he hid behind his glass as he tipped his head back and drank it.

“For cryin’ out loud you still got blood on your teeth, Y/n,” he says, softer this time as the tension in his jaw loosens.

You sigh softly, more so to yourself as you stay quiet for a moment or two, your tongue swiping over your teeth before you bite the inside of your cheek. You can see the emotions flicker and roll through him, can see the guilt written clear across his face to match the feeling simmering in the pit of his stomach. When you got up, he’d expected you to just walk away, though instead you find yourself leaning atop the wooden table.

You snag the glass from the loose grip he had on it, setting it aside as he drug his hands down his face.

Your shoulders drop a fraction as you look down at your hands for a moment, foot tapping quietly against the floor. When you looked at him, his gaze was on the table, the inside of his cheek between his teeth. You bring your hand up to smooth over his hair before your palm settles on his cheek, thumb brushing over his chin. His eyes lift to yours, weary and upset.

You don’t fail to miss the way he leans into your touch no matter how subtle, or the way the clench in his jaw dissipates the rest of the way before your hand drops to your lap.

“There was nothing you could’ve done differently back there, De. No matter how much you think otherwise,” you say, watching that tension return as he looks away. “I know that’s what you’re thinking right now, but I’m still here. Now you don’t have to believe me on this, and I know you won’t, but you were there when I needed you the most. And that’s the only thing that matters to me. So you can be mad at yourself all you want, you can blame yourself all you want, but I’m not blaming this on you.”

He sat quietly, simmering in his own silence with closed eyes as his chest heaves a bit more than normal. You swipe your thumb across the crease between his brows, smoothing it softly as you watch the way he bites the inside of his cheek. Dean Winchester’s got a whole lot of stubbornness in him, but a whole lot of softness no matter how many layers of anger and frustration and worry sit atop it.

You move from the table after a beat of silence, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He relaxed under your embrace, more so when you dipped down from behind him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, one more for good measure.

You don’t know what to say for a little while as your head rests against his, arms dangling over his shoulders as you clasp your hands together loosely. You know for a fact he’s still beating himself up for this, that was something you knew was unavoidable. But that was something you could handle.

“Come to bed, De, it’s late,” you murmur, kissing his cheek once, twice, three times.

He hums at first, nodding his head. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You let him go with a soft squeeze to his shoulders, spinning on your heel as you sigh softly. But it doesn’t take more than a mere few seconds before you hear him move around.

“Sweetheart, wait.”

You turn around once more, brow raised in curiosity.

He’s hesitant for a moment before he crosses the room in a couple of steps, arms around you in an instant. You wrap yours around his neck, his embrace near bone crushing as his face tucks into your neck. His stubble is rough against your skin, the softness of your smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He’s got fistfuls of your shirt in his palms, holding you close as you stand up on your toes.

“What do you say we ditch hunting for a little while?” He mumbles into your neck, your soft laughter immediate as you lean back to look at him. “Don’t want you dyin’ on me again, sweetheart.”

You bit your cheek for a moment as you shook your head, fighting a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Winchester.”

He rolls his eyes, looking to the side as he fights the beginnings of his smile. “Yeah, well, I’m good with that.”

The tension he held minutes ago lessened some, his expression softer as he looked down at you. You lean on your toes and kiss him softly, lingering just over his lips for a few seconds before kissing him once more with a smile as you speak up.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

Text

endgame

request: Can I request a Spencer Reid imagine in which the reader is dating him and is part of BAU? Before they’re called in for the next case, they have a bit of a disagreement about letting her come along on this one. She ends up not going and while they’re gone, she gets caught up in a bit of trouble. She was close by when a building was struck with a bomb, she suffers with only minor injuries and when word gets out to Spencer, he goes back for her to make sure she’s okay and helps to take care of her

for: @fandomofyourchoice-89

word count: 1,941 reading time aprox: 8 mins

masterlist

My legs swung side to side on the chair that I sat on, my feet appearing and disappearing underneath the seat, while Spencer was creating a geographical profile on the board. His eyebrows furrowed and lines were etched on his forehead as he peered into the whiteboard intently.

“You okay there bubs?” I spoke out, taking him out of his trance. He responded with a small smile, running his hands through his hair as he sighed. Deep purple bags were evident under his eyes and his hair was tied up into a semi man bun. “That bad?” I empathize, stretching my arms out to offer him a consolation hug.

He dragged his feet towards me, accepting my warm invitation, before collapsing on top of me. “Oh! Geez- Spence- you’re so heavy” I groaned, the entirety of his weight suffocating me all at once. I looked to the office windows of the police station we were in, grateful that Spencer had closed all the blinds before we entered.

“You love me on top of you” He murmured into my neck, his lips slightly brushing against the skin, sending chills down my spine. I proceeded to smack him upside the head, earning a snicker from him.

“Spence please get off of me” I groaned, pushing my quaint arms against his chest. But to no avail, Spencer continued to lay his dead weight against me. I sighed in defeat, wrapping my arms around his head while I stroked the back of his neck with my thumb. Silence engulfed the two of us until I decided to speak up again. “Did you get anywhere?” I asked, running my fingers down his hairline.

He shook his head against my embrace, lifting his head up to look at me with tired eyes. “There’s just something- I feel it- but I just can’t place my mind on it” He grumbled, wearing an eminent frown on his lips.

“Well what is it?”

“This unsub- his victims right? They were found…” He trailed off, getting up to walk over to the board. “Here, here, and here” He pointed out, my eyes watching as he dragged his long fingers across the board. “But our profile doesn’t indicate that any of them would be his kill zones- or matter of a fact- none of them indicate any signs of his endgame” He sighed, placing his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Well Spence, I’m sure it’s noth-”

Suddenly Hotch barged into the room in a frenzy of impatience, the rest of the team following him at the same pace. “You’ve got to see this,” Garcia said frantically, placing her laptop on the table and furiously typed away.

I looked to Emily in confusion, but all I received was a shrug and a similar befuddled expression. I laid my eyes on the rest of the team, scanning their appearances, yet none of them seemed to budge. Finally, I paid attention to Garcia’s presentation of the unsub.

Something was obviously wrong, her fingers shook as she pointed to the board and she couldn’t keep a coherent sentence. “Garcia, it’s okay” I reassured her, giving her a small smile. But instead of receiving one back, her eyes became dull at the sight of me, quickly averting her attention elsewhere. I opened my mouth to add on, but decided against it as I gauged her reaction.

I was in my headspace, thinking about how Garcia responded to me until the mention of my name snapped me out of my thoughts. I whirled my head around, noticing all of my colleagues eyes on me. “What is it?” I laughed nervously, afraid that there might have been a target on my forehead.

My fears seemed to be actualized the second I turned around, my face morphing into mortification as I saw a candid picture of me with a big red ‘X’ across the page. My mouth fell agape while adrenaline ran its course throughout my body.

“Is that-?” I sputtered, looking to Spencer for confirmation, but he was too focused on the picture that he hadn’t taken his attention away from it. His fists were clenched, his chest heaved in an intermittent rhythm, and he hadn’t let a sound slip from his parted lips. “The unsub?” I looked to my colleagues, watching their facial features morph into pity.

Hotch nodded at me with hooded eyes, confirming my fears. My heart stopped and my body rejected the feeling of dismay that began festering inside me, shuddering at any malicious thought that permeated my mind. “We’ll be traveling to his most recent kill in hopes to apply the profile” He stated, looking to the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Garcia lamented with panicked eyes.

“It’s- uhh, I’m going to- I need a moment” I stuttered, tripping over my words as I got up and stepped out of the room.

It wasn’t the first time that an unsub had targeted me or any other member of the team, but this one was different; this unsub was the epitome of evil. The things he would do to the women he captured was far worse than death itself. He would violate these womens’ bodies and slice up their body cavities starting from their genitalia while they were alive.

When I first arrived on scene, my stomach churned at the mere thought of the event, refusing to go to the morgue with Morgan and Spencer. I felt violated just by the knowledge of such an evil being possible; now it’s an evil that could happen to me. It almost angered me that anyone could have such a putrid mind to think of such a thing, to carry on and blend into a crowd with bloodstained hands.

I paced back and forth, repeating a calming mantra in an attempt to ease my mind, yet nothing was nearly effective. I received a few wandering eyes from the officers that ran the station, but I pushed the judgement out of my head as it was too busy being engulfed in distress and acrimony.

The office door creaked open, indicating that someone had stepped out of the presentation room where I was previously in. I turned my head swiftly, my attention landing on the worried expression that Spencer wore as he approached me. My lips curled into a sad smile, hoping he would reciprocate my gesture to lighten up the mood, but to no avail his expression stayed stoic and grim.

“You’re not going on with us,” Spencer declared, an icy tone laced with his words. He made sure the door was closed behind him, whisper-yelling his command at me so we wouldn’t attract any unneeded attention.

“Spence- but I need t-”

“Please don’t argue with me Y/N” He sighed, combing his fingers through his locks, untying the man bun he wore previously.

“Spencer you see what this unsub is doing to all those women, I have t-”

“No you don’t Y/N- just please sit this one out” He pleaded, looking into my eyes for any sign of submission.

“Look Spence, I’m- god- I’m scared Spencer” I admitted, letting the truth wash over our encounter. “I can’t just stay here, I need to be out there doing something” I justified, hoping that he could understand and empathize with what I was feeling.

“Y/N you could do the same if you stayed here at the station- you can help Garcia and-”

“Spencer you have to understand-”

“No! Y/N” He impulsively blurted out, clutching the ends of his sleeves, which was usually an indication for his frustration. “You’re not going- I’ve already talked to Hotch and he said” He began to explain until I cut him off.

“YOU WHAT!” I exclaimed, but afterwards felt self conscious about the volume of my words. “You what?” I repeated in a calmer voice.

“Y/N I already talked to Hotch and he said that you’re off the case” He finished, belittling me like a parent would at their petulant child.

“So now you’re calling all the shots now, huh big guy” I scoffed, tucking my hands into my elbows. “You have absolutely no right to-”

“No right to what? To protect you? To keep you out of harm’s way?” Spencer combated, pulling me into a secluded corner that was farther away from the door and the crowd of workers in front of us.

“Not only are you commanding me not to go on the case, you had the audacity to tell Hotch to kick me off?” I spat at him, feeling every bit of fear I had previously dissipate and transform into enmity. “You’re unbelievable!” I exasperated, throwing my hands up and turning away from him. I was about to walk away to join the rest of the team, but I was forcefully pulled back by my wrist.

“Where are you going?” Spencer fumed as I yanked my arm out of his grasp.

“Away from you and to get myself back on the case” I jeered. I knew trifling with Spencer wasn’t the brightest idea, but messing with my career was a force to be reckoned with.

“Y/N can you not?” Spencer huffed, stepping in front of me to cut me off.

“Spencer I can take care of myself” I nudged past him, pushing him against his shoulder to make a few strides towards the room.

A heavy silence followed after the heated argument, the clacks that my shoes made against the stone floors enhanced the forceful steps I took. I felt every fiber of my being ignite in embers while I tried to recollect my composure. I peeked at Spencer through my peripheral vision, seeing his chest rise and fall in exasperation, the veins on his forehead bulging and prominent, and his hands being furiously wiped against the side of his pants.

Before I had the chance to turn the doorknob, Spencer had stopped me in my tracks with the sound of his voice. “Do you wanna end up like her?” He scoffed, gazing at me with a frustrated, yet desperate expression.

I titled my head in confusion of his words, almost ignoring him completely so I could proceed through the door.

“Do you wanna end up like Maeve?”

My blood ran cold at the mention of her name, feeling my heart clench for Spencer. I gripped the doorknob, hoping to alleviate the haunting feeling that washed over me. “That’s not fair Spencer” I warned, shutting my eyes, unable to face him.

“You know what’s not fair? You getting yourself hurt- or even worse- because you were too damn stubborn to listen to me-” He peeved. “I don’t know if you realize Y/N, but frankly I’m trying not to end up with another dead gir-”

“That’s not fair Spencer and you know it!” I repeated, meeting the coldness that was present in his usually warm eyes. I gritted my teeth, letting go of the doorknob as he slowly made his towards me.

“Then what’s fair Y/N?” He mocked, shrugging his shoulders in a petty manner.

“I’m going Spencer” I affirmed, standing my ground. His face seemed to harden at my words, the anger and spite in his expression growing into an irrational state. He glared at me, bumping into my shoulder as he brushed past me.

I wish that was what we left on; where he would storm back into the room with an exacerbated stature. But he decided to leave our encounter with a few words that were left to linger in the back of my mind.

“Come back dead for all I care”

part 2

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @linthebinbag

part 2 coming soon

also, i’m in my first year of university right now so most of my imagines will be two part-ers because of all the school work- if you’re curious im a biology major. thank you for bearing with me <3

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

Text

birds (not) of a feather || keigo takami.

* pairing: hawks x fem pro-hero!reader

* genre: canonverse(???), terribly indulgent smut, pwp, enemies w benefits

* words: 3,111

* warnings: i just packed a shitload of kinks into this, dom!hawks, sub!reader, daddy kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex (a bathroom), quirk play aka feather play (not tickling), reader is kiNda a brat, fingering, orgasm denial, cum eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls.,., wrap it before you tap it irl), degradation, breeding kink, humiliation, dumbification, creampie, aftercare (duh), i’m so sorry for this i’ll finish my sfw angst thing now

* a/n: inspired by this text post... oh god, this is filthy. apologies for the slightly late update, but here it finally is!! @toishi is an absolute angel for proofreading this at like 1 in the morning. i hope you enjoy this! if you liked this, feel free to request anything you’d like to see from me <3

there was something about hawks that was infuriating. you couldn't tell exactly what was the breaking point; his messy hair, his plush smirk, or his eyes. his eyes, typically glazed over with a mixture of cockiness and devil-may-care hawtiness, were perhaps the most charming part to him, if you asked any fangirl. the markings around them only made him prettier, but infuriatingly so; and when you put together the entire package of 'hawks,' you got an extremely punchable person.

yet sometimes, during extremely rare instances - perhaps when the light hits him just right or when one of his feathers is placed just perfectly - the word 'punchable' is replaced with 'fuckable.' and when you say fuckable, you mean him fucking you. it only aggravates you more.

you can't recall exactly when you started hating him or exactly when you became fuckbuddies (well, more like fuckenemies), but what you can recall is that the closets at hawks' agency are unreasonably large. not that they can't be used to your advantage, on multiple occasions (especially when hawks ruts). you're sitting next to hawks as some entrepreneur attempts to sell his ideas to market heroes and gain more profit. none of the pro-heroes sitting in the room seem particularly engaged. you're practically falling asleep; hawks' doodles on your notepad keeping you awake. you can't exactly complain, though the doodles take up space on an otherwise blank page, it's entertaining. you're far past gone being alert, however; your eyelids droop one last time before you see an oddly phallic shaped doodle behind your eyelashes. goddamn hawks.

"really?" you hiss at him, pushing his hand away.

he shrugged, lazily smiling. "you like it."

"like what? lewd imagery in my work notepad?"

"no." his voice drops an octave, fatally gravelly, "my cock."

you flush at his obscene language. "don't-" you whisper, but you're cut off by hawks' muffled giggles as he points to another one of his doodles. a rooster. you purse your lips. ever-so immature, hawks.

"yeah, but i bet you like the first one a lot more, don'tcha, chickadee?" his pet name has your brain stuttering. "you like my cock so much, hm?"

"fuck you, hawks," you breathe.

"you can try, feather." his voice is dripping with cockiness. "i bet, even in professional times like these, you think about my cock. in business meetings, you look so professional, so serious, but little does everyone know - you're dreaming about my cock stretching your tight little cunt out, making you scream my goddamn name. i bet you salivate just thinking about my cock fucking you good, hm? isn't that right, chickadee?"

you huff, not meeting his eyes as you search for a witty comeback. your silence gives hawks' ego a boost; he smirks wider.

"you know it's true, huh?" he purrs. "you think of me wherever you go. in public, filing paperwork, when you touch yourself in bed... you just like it so much, you're my slut. who knew the nation's favorite pro-hero would drop to her knees to the sight of anyone's cock?"

"yeah, i touch myself whenever i think of you," you mutter saltily under your breath. you ignore the growing arousal in your panties at his provocative words. hawks goes quiet, eyes wide.

"more specifically, i rub my temples because i get a headache because you're so damn awful."

"well fuck, dove," he chuckles. he leans in close to your ear. "maybe i'll give you something to think about."

a shiver curls itself down your spine. "hawks-"

he hushes you, jotting something in your notepad. he excuses himself from the room, leaving a feather laying on his seat in place of him. you read the note. "women's bathroom, down the hall to the left. no one uses it."

a pump of adrenaline fills you; your heart skips a beat.

once you slip out, your heart plays a game of jump rope, the rhythm filling your ears. down the hall, to the left... you wonder what hawks has in store for you. your brain recreates images of past escapades you engaged in with the man; a quickie in his office, another in an alley, and once, him fucking you just before a meeting. your panties grow damper, unable to mask the anticipation you feel within yourself.

"hi, sweetpea," hawks cooes as soon as you enter the restroom. "fancy seeing you here."

"you invited-"

"hush, i didn't give you permission to speak, did i?" he snaps. "good girls who behave are rewarded."

a whimper slips out of you, and you nod.

"safeword, birdie?"

"sunflower."

"good girl." he hums. "so obedient, once disciplined... maybe i should do this more. i bet you'd like that... being such a slut when anyone could walk in." "hawks..." you start, but he doesn't have it.

the hero stalks toward you. if eyes could kill, you'd be murdered within seconds; his irises are dark, pupils blown, and a shadow has fallen over his face. he looks predatory like this - truly living up to his name. it's graceful, the self-control he assumes whence walking toward you.

said self-control is completely abandoned as soon as your bodies meet. you're completely enraptured in his shadow as the man loomed over you, his wings contributing greatly to the effect. he's the predator, and you're the prey.

his arm separates your neck from the wall, his hand clutching the back of your head. the free hand moves itself to caress your jaw in a strangely gentle manner, while his knee pushes its way in between your legs, making your upper thighs into a home. his hand nudges your head forward towards his, and then you're kissing him with such ferocity it's animalistic. tongues clash and you're no longer sure whose spit is whose; it dribbles down your chin the way blood drips from the thirsty lips of a vampire.

hawks growls - he actually growls - while he hastily unbuttons your top and slips his tongue into your mouth. you shamelessly grind down against his clothed pant leg, careless that your wetness will leave a stain.

he pulls away, a string of saliva snapping between you and leaving you two gasping for breath.

"fuck, fuck, baby bird," hawks wipes his mouth with his sleeve. his lips are swollen, their colour resembling a cherry lollipop with a sheen of gloss. damn, he's pretty. you never realized how good-looking a guy in a suit could be. his eyes are darker than a raven's, and it looks as though he'll devour you whole.

"come." hawks gestures for you, walking towards the sinks and large mirror above them. as soon as you near a foot from hawks, he grabs you, one hand on your waist and the other on your throat.

"look at you..." he tsks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. you're completely disheveled, hair a mess and eyes blown dark. your top is wrinkled slightly, your breasts peaking out through the unbuttoned gap and your skirt pushed up.

"so messy already..." the hand on your waist moves up and squeezes your breast, tweaking a nipple through your bra.

"you just fucking melt for me, like a good whore," he says.

oh, how you hate how easily hawks can win you over.

"fuck you," you scoff half-heartedly. "are you gonna fuck me, or not? we don't have all day."

"won't be a problem, lovebird," he says breezily. "judging by how much you fucking soaked my pant leg, i could have you coming undone without my cock even touching your dirty cunt.

you glance at his thigh, which has a blatant dark spot on it, and feel your heart race in humiliation. you can only stay silent, knowing he's right. the sensation in your core is painfully obvious to you, as if taunting you more.

"obeying now?" he teases, a wicked smile gracing his face. "bend over the counter, sweetpea."

you huff, obliging. hawks deftly moves his fingers, unbuttoning your shirt. you shiver, your hot skin colliding with the cold, unforgiving marble.

"spread your legs - good, good, like that..." his breath tickles your ear, "you like how the air touches your sopping pussy? how exposed you fucking feel, all spread out for me when anyone could walk in? me, the number 2 pro-hero..." god, he was so cocky it was infuriating.

"shut up," you grumble.

"what?" his voice is sharp, cutting clean through the air. "is that anyway to treat your daddy?"

you fucking hate the title. you hate how hawks harnesses it as his own, how he so personifies the word - how good it fits him, sounding like sugar off his lips.

two of his fingers meet your clothed folds. "answer me, birdie."

"n-no," you squeak out.

"no, who?" he spits.

"no, daddy."

you inch your head up to look in the mirror, and hawks is smiling.

"what to do with you, what to do with you..." he sounds gleeful, sadistic undertones tinting his words with a faded rose red. so pretty, yet so painful. your head goes back down onto the counter, your cheek pressed against it.

"naughty birds deserve punishment, don'tcha think?"

you can't find it in yourself to form a coherent word; instead, a clumsy moan falls from your lips. hawks' fingers press harder against your cunt; you're sure they've gotten at least a little damp.

compromised in such a position, your senses make you suddenly aware of your surroundings; the way the counter digs into your hips, how the coolness is starting to fade under your body. you're aware of your every breath, the fluttering in your stomach every time hawks presses your clit. you're aware of the inherent eroticism of your acts, and how you don't really hate hawks; no, no, no - how he just infuriates you.

he's the ideal hero, in your eyes - laidback, charming, and yet so skilled at his work. it amazes you. one can only strive to be so multifaceted, and it explains his status as number 2 hero. you work so hard, yet he can achieve all the things you dream in half a heartbeat.

"let's get these out of the way." hawks, hooking a digit into the band of your panties, forces them down in an instant. you instinctively clench at the air which meets your nether lips, your juices leaking out of them like a honeyed nectar.

"so messy," hawks comments. "can't even control yourself without your panties. you like being such a slut for daddy, huh?"

you grumble in protest.

"huh?" his index and ring finger plunge into your pussy, making a loud squelching sound.

"d-daddy," you blurt a moan out, falling apart on his fingers.

"that's more like it, feather." hawks sets a moderate pace on your pussy, curling to hit your sweet spot. the noises from your cunt and mouth fail to cease, and you throw a hand over the latter to muffle your whimpers.

you start to feel a burning sensation rise in your stomach; a toe-curling, warm feeling like sunlight shining in the morning.

"daddy, daddy, hngg- i'm so close."

you're so close to the sunlight, to being showered in the blissful heat. just one more stroke and-

you're suddenly empty, and the light starts to slowly recede.

"daddy!" you complain, shifting your legs and rubbing your thighs together. "bad birds get punishment," he shrugs. "though i must say... you like it when i bend you over the counter, huh? your little pussy is dripping all over it for me, and i've barely touched you... i bet you're getting off to this right now; when anyone could walk in, huh? filthy slut. you're already begging for more... hm, maybe i should make you lick up the mess you've made..."

"d-addy, no, i've taken my punishment, please let me cum..."

hawks sounded indifferent, as if he were merely studying his nails. "beg for it."

"wh-" you clench your hands in your skirt. you do not particularly enjoy begging - for anything or anyone. despite the pulsing in your cunt, and how hard it is not to give in, you don't want to give hawks the satisfaction of winning. "p-psh, didn't really need your cock anyway..." you grumble. you exhale quietly, calming the adrenaline pumping in your blood from the loss of your orgasm.

something in him changes, and a scarlet feather tickles your lips. you're confused; what does hawks want you to do?

"suck."

you exhale in confusion, blowing the feather away. "suck?"

you crane your neck up at the mirror to catch a glimpse of hawks. he looks deadly - there's no other way to put it. his eyes are sharply trained on you, his wings buff and towering over him. you think you see a bulge in his pants, straining for freedom.

"well?" the feather dusts your lips once again, teasing you to trap it in between your lips. your head drops, falling against the counter. you open your mouth, and the tip of the feather rests on your tongue. your lips close around it, and you hesitantly suck. you're not sure what you were expecting; it's a feather, soft and flimsy in your mouth.

you jolt at an indistinct tickling feeling against your clit. you look back, feather hanging out of your mouth, to see hawks leaning back on a stall. he's not within reach to touch you, so...

"hng!" the foreign object presses your clit. the pressure strengthens against your tight bundle of nerves, and you can feel your slick drip out of you even more. a feather; though hawks made the consistency a bit more solid. the feather pushes against your pussy like a seesaw, making you reach for your high. you shut your eyes tight, lost in the feeling and desperate for release. the feather drags up and down your cunt, eliciting lewd noises, while your lips are clamped shut around the feather in your mouth. saliva pools in your mouth the more the feather teases your wet sex, and the familiar build of tension starts in your stomach. you yearn for the heat returned in full, to be so fulfilled in pleasure, and you rut against the feather in an attempt to reach your climax faster. the stimulation is suddenly gone, leaving you crying out.

"look at this," hawks sneers. a single, wet feather, dripping in a substance far thicker than water hovers in front of you. "open your mouth."

the feather slips out, and is replaced with a salty tasting one.

the taste of your arousal fills your tongue, and before you're given time to dwell on it, you feel warmth pressing against the back of your thighs. there's a clanking of metal, a shuffle of fabric, and you feel the tip of hawks' cock pressing against you.

"look at you, baby, so desperate for a fuckin' feather," he rasps in your ear. "should i show you how much better my cock is? hmm?"

you nod dumbly, the feather bobbing with you.

"fuck," he groans, pushing himself into your depths. "so wet, so- slick- goddamn baby bird, you like it when i stuff you full of this cock?"

you hum a noise against the feather in your mouth, agreeing. he slipped into your pussy smoothly, lubricated by the abundance of your slick. once in, snuggled in deep, something in the man's composure snaps; he thrusts mercilessly, pounding deep in you. his fingers hold your hips, bruising them, you're sure - and the pain is sweet, a sick lolly against your tongue.

"fuck, fuck, daddy's gonna fuck his babies into you, betcha'd like that, huh?" you can't articulate your words properly with the feather in your mouth, but you attempt to agree. he doesn't care, continuing with his degradation.

"you're gonna give me my chicks, huh? be my bitch," he pants heavily. god, you can just imagine how he looks; hair falling onto his sweat-matted forehead, his eyes completely lascivious. a wanton moan spills from your mouth, and the feather falls, but hawks doesn't make notice of this. he continues to slam into you, pace unforgiving, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. squelching noises fill the bathroom, echoing off the walls.

you can only moan and clench around him unintelligently.

"look at you... all fuckin' stupid and obedient, all for daddy, hm? so willing to let daddy use you as a cumdump, daddy's personal- fucking- cumslut- but you like that, huh? your pretty pussy's clenching around me. you like being talked down to, don'tcha? such a dirty slut. look at that, you're drooling."

two of hawks' fingers shove themselves into your mouth, and you salivate around them. it's messy, you know, and spit trails down your chin.

"look at me, chickadee," he commands. you crane your neck to look at him, eyes wide. "fuck, so slutty," he grunts. "you really like this, don't you? fuck- exposing your fucking cunt to every guy, huh? being used as nothing but a filthy fucktoy?"

you shake your head rapidly in disagreement, cheeks heating up.

"no?" he chuckles darkly. "just my fucktoy, then?"

you reluctantly nod.

"my stupid lil baby... so pretty with daddy's fingers shoved in her mouth..." he coos, and a surprising, fuzzy feeling emerges from the praise.

his unoccupied hand reaches down in between your thighs to stimulate your clit, rubbing fast circles against the bud. warmth pools and ties a knot in your stomach. the sugared indulgence of release that you'd so craved comes into view; the knot tightening and tightening and you feel fit to burst.

"c-cum for me, baby bird, cum for me, y/n," he stutters, making a guttural sound in the back of his throat. the fingers in your mouth pull out, falling onto your hips. the tight knot bursts into violent fireworks of ecstasy; your cunt gushes around hawks' cock, convulsing madly. the pleasure shatters you, and everything becomes a haze. you go limp against the counter, thighs shaking. you're not sure how much time has passed - hawks had been fucking you through orgasm, and, at one point, came as well.

"hey, feather," he whispers gently to you. "you did so well for me..." he strokes your back, making a plethora of calming coos and humming sounds

"did so well," you mumble.

"don't worry about anything, dove, i've got it all handled."

your thoughts are all fog, and you allow yourself to lean into hawks. this is one of the rare times you're vulnerable completely to him; at his mercy, after a particularly hard session. rather, it's one of the rare moments that your true feelings are revealed; how your hatred is baseless, built on jealousy and attraction you deny.

not that you'll admit it.

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evermorehaikyuu · 3 years

Text

It’s Nothing Special

MASTERLIST

BREAKING NEWS | WHITE WALLS | AU CONTRAIRE

She was supposed to be out by now. The news that Y/N had been in the hospital or in some sort of ward were seen as rumors, albeit some people insisting that it was true.

The rumors had spiraled out of control to the point where Tsukishima didn’t know anything. If he texted any other members of her team, they all said the same thing: I don’t know. He found it ridiculous that they didn’t know, but he had a feeling that they were hiding her status from him. To make sure he didn’t get his hopes up or because of something happening? Either way, he just wanted to know if she was okay.

Even Semi and Tendou avoided telling him anything. Tendou and Semi constantly looked pale whenever he asked and they quickly changed the topic. It didn’t help either that they were constantly worried.

No matter how much his own team tried to cheer him up, that lingering doubt still stayed in the back of his head: Will she come back to normal? After the little bit of news that Yuki was the Unknown Address, he could tell the entire experience was traumatizing. Who in the world would try to murder their best friend because they got everything that they wanted? You’d think they’d find another way to unleash their anger and to go so far so as to threaten innocent people’s lives...Yuki was definitely not sane. They should’ve found out earlier. He should’ve done something to try and protect her, but then again what could he have done? Tsukishima’s thoughts were too conflicting and lying down in bed didn’t help.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting in her new place, frowning. She was trying to sort out everything that happened in the last week. Thanks to the amount of rumors swirling around, no one would blame her for staying out of the face of the public for a while. She took that time to try and see what she could gather.

Yuki was the Unknown, that much she knew. But how long had Yuki harbored those feelings? And why did he decide to work with her? Why would he threaten innocent people? What was in it for him?

Too many questions with no answers at all. Perhaps that was the reason why she could feel Yuki slipping away since the start of the meeting with Karasuno. His jealousy was too much to the point where he had even tried to kill her. She shouldn’t have forgiven him and even so, she was furious with him. He did not have any logic in his plan for one. Two, it was utterly ridiculous. Here she was, a sitting duck, all because doctors thought that she was going slightly insane. Maybe she was a little shaken, but to go ahead and treat her like someone in a ward, that’s what made her frustrated. That was Yuki’s fault.

Someone knocked at the front door and when it opened, Y/N tensed. Even though she knew she had given a copy of the key to Suki, it didn’t help that she was now more paranoid than before. When the girl walked in with freshly dyed hair, she was followed by the rest of Y/N’s team. Suki said, “This place is messier than what I expected.”

“Can you blame me?” Y/N sighed. She knew the place was messy but she couldn’t find the time (nor the willpower) to actually clean everything up.

“Not really.” Hikari said when he walked in, holding a bag of things Y/N didn’t recognize. “It’s crazy, to think that Yuki would do something like that. I never expected it.”

Yukie and Kaori walked in next, holding bags of food. Yukie said, “Sakura couldn’t come. She has to study for some finals she said, but she really wanted to be here.”

“Are we sure she isn’t actually scared?” Y/N joked bitterly. Those rumors had gotten to her own team. She genuinely wanted to deck Yuki now.

Her managers didn’t comment on anything and they instead got to work as Suki requested. The house before her morphed into what seemed like a butterfly transformation. All of the empty mugs everywhere were whisked into the kitchen, the lingering smell of someone who had lived there but didn’t care started fading away, the newspapers giving any idea of what happened to Yuki were discarded, the chips of glass from when she had broken a plate in fury as well as several others got swept, and soon enough, the house finally looked livable.

Hikari sat across from her, handing her a mug of her favorite hot drink. Y/N mumbled a thank you, but she already expected what their questions were going to be. After all, she hadn’t answered their calls for weeks and in her fit of rage, she’d broken it. Luckily, it wasn’t an expensive phone but it just went to show how furious she was that no one commented on her not picking up calls or answering messages.

Yuki had brought out a side of Y/N that nobody thought was there and it was in the worst way possible.

Taking a deep breath, the light haired boy across from her asked, “Are you comfortable with us asking you questions and telling you things?”

With a sip of her drink, Y/N thought about it. It seemed like an eternity since she’d seen her friends and now she was just tired. She wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep for a good week or so. It was nice that Hikari was asking though. Knowing his job, it might’ve been inspiration for something or other.

It seemed like Hikari read her mind then. “I won’t take it as inspiration. I’m not that cruel. I know what you’ve gone through, I just want your consent to ask if this is okay.”

The other three girls arrived in the living room, taking respective seats and all eyes were on Y/N. There was just a shadow of a doubt crossing her face before she responded. “Okay.”

“Yuki was incarcerated after we got to the scene. He claims that he was trying to kill you and even though he said that he’d leave Karasuno alone, he said he wouldn’t. He wanted to save Tsukishima last to savor his look of pain once he admitted that he had killed you. The reason why he wanted to do so was because he was jealous of you. Everything you had, he believed it was because of him. There’s an investigation going on about your parents because he had said something suspicious about it.”

Y/N frowned. This was adding up, but in a way she didn’t want to admit. “Yuki had something to do with my parents?”

“Not him exactly. As I said, there’s an investigation going on. Along with that, they’re going to find your real name and you can decide whether to take it back or keep your stage name.”

“I’ll keep my stage name, thanks.” It was supposed to come out jokingly, yet it seemed like the past month or so had deeply scarred her. She had one coherent thought come out of her. Tsukishima. “Is Tsukishima okay?”

“I can answer this.” Kaori said, plucking out a snack from Yukie’s hands. “He’s been severely worried about you and calling us all. However, Semi had said not to tell him anything about you because he knew how you were.”

“Ah yes, the cameras, I’ve been waving at them the entire time.” That was a lie, she’d been cursing out Semi and Yuki the entire time, making vulgar gestures at the camera when she was bored.

Kaori knew this because when Sakura had watched the footage, she always reported that. It had made her laugh then but at the sight of the broken girl before her, it didn’t seem as funny. “Tsukishima is still worried about you and he really wants to see you soon. Let’s just say that he’s also been driving his company insane because he refuses to cooperate until he knows you’re okay.”

Y/N’s heart raced against its own will. She could still remember the conversations she had had with him and how he had been able to make her smile easily. Karasuno had told her that he completely changed when they were talking and he was even excited nowadays if he knew that she’d be somewhere. He refused to always say anything about them both, but Y/N knew that he was just someone that didn’t talk openly about private things. It was clear in their messages, now that she thought about it. It was clear how much they cared about one another. After all, would she have done what she did for anyone else? She’d like to think so, but honestly, it depended. At least it was Tsukishima and not anyone else. She didn’t want to think about that. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s why Karasuno has been on break for about a week or so now. Trust me when I say that we’ve had to blackmail so many news outlets to stop talking about both of you. But they still do.” Kaori shrugged before sighing. “This entire thing has caused a lot of chaos.”

It was true. She could see it from the bags under their eyes and how tired they were. A flare of love and admiration for these four came up from within her. They had signed a contract to work with her but she saw them as her best friends. All of this work to make sure that her privacy was ensured. Even Suki, who appeared to loathe Tsukishima, had worked to try and let him down gently.

Suki had chosen that moment to speak, in a voice that Y/N had never heard from her before. It was much more gentle and soft. “I think it’s best if you talk to him at some point.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked at her. “Have you gotten past the enemy stage?”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say that if he makes you happy, I can deal.”

Yukie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him soon?”

Y/N nodded. With that action of assent, Yukie grinned. “Good, because lover boy texted immediately. Come on. We’ll go to his company. Let’s get you ready.”

On the way to the company, Y/N could not stop moving. There was only the thought of what she would say to him. What could she say after this entire ordeal? Hi, I’m back, I missed you and it turns out I have genuine like like feelings for you but Yuki messed it all up--Yeah, scratch that, that was definitely not going to be something he’d tell him.

“Now you’re making me nervous and I’m not doing anything,” Suki joked, but the bitter tone behind it threw Y/N off.

“You okay?” Y/N knew her best friend like the back of her hand and something was up. “Is it Tsukishima?”

“Actually, no. It’s nothing really.” Suki looked at her sadly and shrugged. “All I’m wondering is why he did it until now. Looking at it from his point of view, don’t you think that he would’ve been smart to figure it all out earlier? What I’m saying is why now? What caused him to do something like that?”

Y/N had thought about that countless times. Considering the amount of openings she had had, it was just a wonder that he didn’t attack her from the start. Maybe she could go and talk to him or have someone else do so. But something wasn’t out in the open yet and she wanted to know.

Once they were at the familiar building, Y/N stepped out, staring up at it. “Is it too late now to go back?” She could feel the bile rising up her throat, nervousness infiltrating every part of her being. Maybe this was a worse idea than what she had thought.

“It’s just him, Y/N,” Kaori said gently, leading the group. They had gotten on an elevator to go to the very last floor.

Meanwhile, Tsukishima was pacing in that floor in the dance room. Yamaguchi, Kageyama and Hinata watched him curiously. Here the most monotone of the group was, extraordinarily worried for someone that shouldn’t have concerned him as much as it did. But as much as he denied it, those feelings were just feelings of love. Had he come to terms with them? Who knew?

Tsukishima looked up at the door for the umpteenth time today as if expecting Y/N to walk through or create a bigger possibility of her finally arriving. To his shock, the door opened and this time it wasn’t the others. It was Y/N’s managers as well as Hikari and Suki.

Yukie said, “All right, clear out, let’s give them some privacy.”

The other three started complaining, giving retorts as to why they should stay until Yukie grabbed Yamaguchi’s wrist, Kaori coaxed Hinata out of the door and Hikari made Kageyama follow him out. Suki went over to Tsukishima, her arms crossed as the door closed.

“Let me just warn you: she’s not the same. She’s changed. The girl still likes you though. Take care of her for me, got it?” With those words, Suki opened the door to show Y/N standing there.

But it didn’t seem like her anymore. The misery in her eyes was still there. Her posture was no longer like before, it seemed like she was shrinking back. It was clear from her trembling hands too that she didn’t know whether it was right to go in or not.

Tsukishima had wide eyes and when she walked to him, he didn’t think, he just acted. Pulling her in for a tight hug, he buried his face in her shoulder. “Thank God.”

“Hey, Tsukki.” Her voice was softer than before, almost inaudible as she hugged him back just as tightly. “I miss--” Her voice broke and Tsukishima could sense her on the verge of tears. He turned out to be right and at the sound of her crying, he felt like he’d cry along with her. If he’d ever get the chance, he’d have a long talk with Yuki at least for turning her into the girl before him.

When she had calmed down, he led her away to the wall and made her sit next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was fiddling with her fingers, clearly thinking about what to tell him. Looking at the wall across from him, he decided to wait patiently until she was ready. It didn’t take long. After five minutes of silence, Y/N spoke up. “Yuki came after me. He wanted what I had for himself. I think the prospect of both of us collaborating was something he hated because it’d make us--well, me--rise to the top. He believed that he deserved that position more than you. That’s...basically it.”

The blond frowned. Yuki just wanted what Y/N had? Why did he stick by her though? “You don’t think that he actually, you know...”

“What, liked me as more than a friend?” Y/N scoffed. “They thought it was a possibility. I don’t know. I don’t really care.” However the way she spat out those words made it clear that she didn’t know what to think. “Not after what he did.”

These were the occasions where he knew immediately what to do next or maybe even have taken Tanaka and Noya’s advice. Now he was slightly lost. Scratch that, more than slightly lost. Instead, he let her lean against his shoulder for a while and it was quiet again. It was peaceful until he decided to speak up. “Have you eaten yet? I think we should go to this place I think you’d like.”

Y/N knew that he was trying his hardest to make her feel better so with a smile, she nodded against him. “Okay. Let’s go then.”

Neither of them wanted to stay in the past but the only way to go forward was dealing with it. They’d both be fine together and they knew that they’d be able to help each other out whenever it started to get bad.

Hmmm its almost done literally that’s so sad

Taglist: @chocolaterumble @ghostdaichi @akaashikeillmepls @goopycookie @halparkebitch @nctdream-boat @laninasinnombre @nataliahaslosthershit @words-in-air @virgoamajiki @paranoid-borderline-insane @mirikusashes @mint-mai @noyasimp @24nah25 @definitely-yours @chesirecatwaltz @theydy-madamonsieur @lilsimp @eruji-chan-pb @kiraakaashi @trifliz @nightshadeshimin @kac-chowsballs @its-the-aerieljeane @hqreisin @channiechanchan @fandomsgotmefucked @watermelon-sugar-is-my-drugs @bakugouswh0r3 @rizkei-iscurrentlydying @so-lo-stuff @jewlmin @kotarousbabyowl @lumin3xe @artemisnotfowl @random-fandom-girl-24 @darkangeldesignstudio @vhsryuu @chaotic-fangirl-blog @tycrackculture @4ck3rm4ns1mp @stupendousbonkcopland @encryptpta @bwnwlut

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima smau #tsukishima kei smau

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

But Once a Year (2/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9.1K which is also more than I remember writing. Which should probably be the subheadline of my life. AN: Guys! All of you! Collectively! Separately! Thank you so much for your genuinely incredible response to this story that took on a life of its own. It’s very nice! You’re all very nice! More exclamation points! This time around we’ve got; a very discombobulated timeline, bedtime stories, peak!dad David, peak!dad Killian and f e e l i n g s.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || Or you can start from the start

————

“How did you figure it out?” He lifts his eyebrow. Only one, and exactly the same way he does in whatever part of time the real Killian Jones is lingering in, but the thought of this Killian Jones not being entirely real makes Emma’s stomach knot. Several times over. She can’t stop staring at his eyebrow. It’s off-putting. And the complete opposite of that. “Out?” Killian echoes. “Not when?” “No, no I figured you knew pretty much from the get, but—” Emma shrugs. Tries very hard not to fall off the kitchen counter. Which might actually be made of granite.

God, maybe they’re legitimately rich.

She can’t imagine what the mortgage on a house like this is.

She can’t imagine there are actually mortgages in Storybrooke.

“Were you thinking about going to get your sword? Because it seems shitty to challenge an unarmed person to a fight.” The eyebrow gets higher. Arch'ier. Pointier, even. “As you’ve already pointed out today, I am a pirate. And that’s not really an answer to my question.” “Or mine,” Emma challenges. “Are you not a pirate anymore, then?” “You know you’d make a rather atrocious spy, darling.” Sneering is decidedly juvenile and the only thing Emma is capable of doing in the moment. “You are dancing around any answer and—” “—Well, if you’re a time traveling, abysmal spy then it seems wrong to provide you with any more information than what you’ve already gleaned from your day here, doesn’t it?”

She deflates.

Shoulders sag and exhaustion creeps up the wholly unnatural and very uncomfortable curve of Emma’s spine, fear tickling the back of her mind because Killian hasn’t actually made a single move towards the basement, but she’s only passably sure of where the basement is and the specific sort of glint in his eyes makes her even more confident that he wouldn’t mind brandishing his sword at her.

Literally in this instance.

“I’m not sure it’s time travel,” she mumbles, staring at a floor that is questionably clean if it does in fact belong to her. Maybe Killian cleans. “Fascinating.” “I’m not the bad guy here.” “Because I am?”

Her shoulders can’t sink any lower. They try all the same, shamed by the hitch in his breath and the tilt of his head, angled to make his hair drift across his brows and eyes that are as distracting as ever and far too easy to get swept up in and—

Emma swallows.

Exhales. She doesn’t remember when she decided to hold her breath.

“I don’t know,” she admits softly, barely able to move her lips and no one remembered to turn the Christmas tree off. Lights reflect off the ridiculous number of windows in the wall, painting streaks of color on paint that isn’t blue and shouldn’t remind anyone of a ball gown Emma knows she hasn’t worn yet, but it’s pretty all the same and she wonders why she wound up here. At this point. This moment.

Killian might not be breathing either.

“What do you know, then?”

Emma bites her lip. Hard. “That one second I was somewhere else, and then I was—” Shaking her head does not help what is undoubtedly a migraine blooming behind her left eye, but she hasn’t fallen off the counter yet and she imagines victories are going to be few and far between, so it seems fair to cling to them as they pass by. Six of her knuckles crack when she grips the kitchen counter. “Waking up, and you were telling me we had to go get paint, and people were bowing to me.” “They don’t do that where you’re from.” “Not a question.” “No,” Killian agrees, which is a very strange way of doing that, “more like a documented point. You haven’t tried to attack anyone yet, though. So I suppose that’s at least one marker on the positive column.” “I’m not going to attack anyone!” Eyes flashing at the crack in Emma’s voice, Killian’s neck all but snaps as he glances over his shoulder. Towards a staircase, and she hasn’t spent too much time upstairs yet, but those same stairs are as empty as they were sixteen seconds earlier and the force of Killian’s exhale ruffles the ends of his hair.

“If you wouldn’t mind being just a touch quieter,” he all but growls at her, spinning back around with far more grace than Emma thinks is entirely fair, “I’d really appreciate it. Takes her forever to fall asleep.” “Hope, you mean? Don’t I, well—don’t we or…” “I’d suggest you stop talking.”

“And you’re still avoiding my questions,” Emma accuses through clenched teeth. That only hurts her jaw. And the rest of her, really. She’s so tired, she can’t believe she’s still forming coherent sentences. Counting that as another marker in the positive column is probably a dick move.

And the standoff that ensues over the next twenty-seven and two-thirds seconds is something in the realm of ridiculous. Clenching her jaw tight enough to crush a variety of diamonds, Emma resolutely refuses to blink, and Killian’s an ass, apparently, so he simply stares right back, while his shoulders heave on every inhale.

She doesn’t know what to say. Has no idea what string of words will convince this relative stranger, who still feels like someone who could potentially be hers in an overwhelming sort of way, that she’s not a threat and wouldn’t do anything to hurt that kid upstairs. Not when that kid did her own bit of staring at Emma all evening, like she was the sun and the moon, and a variety of constellations and—

Killian drags a hand over his face. Leaves red streaks in his wake, twisting the skin on his cheeks and the stubble there doesn’t move because it can’t, but Emma’s admittedly starting to teeter again. In more ways than one, really.

The crinkles around his eyes are deeper. As if he’s used to laughing and smiling, and Hope had clung to him on their walk home.

There’s that word again.

Doing something silly to Emma’s heart.

“I know you’re not going to attack anyone,” he sighs, “although I don’t really know if you’re in a position to demand I tell you anything, either.”

“What if we call it a request?” His lips twitch, fighting off the smile Emma can see tugging at his mouth and it’s definitely wrong to find any confidence in that. Charming a guy who’s already married and procreating with a different version of her shouldn’t be regarded as another victory.

She’s going to do it anyway.

“Tell me who you are, then.” “I’m—” Grunting hurts Emma’s throat, both of her elbows threatening to damage her ribs when she flails her hands. “I’m me. Just—” “—Not mine?” “Oh, that’s decidedly possessive.” Humming, Killian’s nod is barely that. More like a quick jerk of his chin and swipe of his tongue across the front of his teeth. She’s got to stop staring at his mouth. “Aye, it might be. I am having some difficulty wrapping my head around this, though. So you’ll have to forgive me.” Emma scoffs. Nearly laughs, really — which is as surprising as it is nice, and nothing about this can be nice. On principle. Her body doesn’t seem to care, and her heart certainly cares even less, and it’s still a struggle to rationalize this version of Killian with the one she left, but there are far more similarities than her brain is able to process quite yet and that same dark and distant part is very quick to point out she’d like to.

No matter where she might be sitting.

If she’d let herself.

“You can feel my magic?”

Killian nods. “Usually.” “What does that mean? It doesn’t always work?” “I—” Gritting his teeth only shows off how frustratingly straight there are, and at some point she’s going to ask about that. Pirates don’t get braces, after all. “I’d rather not disrupt all of time by telling you things you don’t already know.” “I don’t know anything,” Emma argues, trying very hard not to scream the words. And only sort of succeeding.

“Did you fall into a portal?” “Are you fucking with me?” Killian glares at her again. “I’d advise very strongly that you answer the question, Swan.”

“Or what? You’ll legitimately go get your basement sword? Why do you keep your sword in the basement, anyway? Aren’t there—I mean, a monster a week in Storybrooke, right?” His goddamn fucking tongue is going to be the death of her. Sooner or later, Emma is positive. Shifting and poking at the side of his cheek, and she can hear the gears again, trying to place the few clues she’s given him with a life he’s already lived and it is absurd that she even thought the word clues.

“Not in quite some time,” he admits, and Emma’s mind leaps. Back to conversations and knights and realm-borders. She needs a map. Or Regina, God help her. “That’s not the point, though. It’s—” Another head shake and hair movement, and pinching the bridge of his nose only makes it ten-thousand times easier to see the ring on his finger.

There are a lot of Christmas lights in this house.

“You’re not someone else,” Killian finishes softly.

“Disappointing, I know.” His head moves so quickly it’s hardly more than a semi-dark blur of hair and slightly pained eyes. Both of which make Emma very glad for her spot on the counter. If she had been standing, she would have fallen over. In a rather undignified heap.

“No,” Killian exhales as the magnets make a glorious return. He crowds into her space before she’s entirely ready for it. Although that also suggests Emma would ever be ready for the way his face has twisted and how ridiculously warm he continues to be, the hand that’s already resting on her knee threatening to burn straight through her jeans. “Strange,” he adds, clenching his fingers when Emma flinches, “and possibly a little terrifying, since—” “—Your Emma has disappeared entirely.” He grins. It’s disarming, and inching closer to the kind of flirting they’d been dancing around before and Emma’s got to get off this dancing metaphor kick. She’s not a good dancer, anyway. “No portal, right?” “No portal,” she confirms. “And I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a very lucid dream, so.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

She realizes that about halfway through the sentence. Any hint of camaraderie or déjà vu-based flirting disappears from Killian’s face and immediately shifts into the same brand of pain that came when she called him Hook.

Biting her lip is really Emma’s only option.

“You don’t think this is real,” he whispers, another statement she doesn’t feel the need to point out. Shrugging, Emma’s vocal chords fail her again, and the step Killian takes away from her resembles a rather large chasm.

Grand Canyon-esque.

“We’re back to things I don’t know,” Emma says, “but um—do we have other kids? Aside from Hope, I mean? I—” Heat rises in her cheeks, the weight of the compliment threatening to burst out of her both foreign and necessary and Killian doesn’t do anything. Well, he lifts his eyebrows again, but that’s something like second nature to him and Emma refuses to count it and his fingers find the back of his hair.

Huh.

“Henry,” he replies.

“And you’re counting Henry? As—” Her tongue is really going to become a problem, if it’s going to remain this size in her mouth. “As your kid too?”

Strictly speaking, Emma’s not sure she actually wants an answer. Can only imagine what her emotions will do if she hears the confirmation that’s quite obviously pressing behind the seams of Killian’s mouth, but that confirmation might also prove several thousand things that have been at war in her for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit, and he nods once.

“In all the ways that matter,” Killian says. “And Neal is…” Shaking his head, all Emma gets is another smirk as soon as she huffs out her frustration, but the frustration is also kind of lacking when it feels like her whole body is running on overdrive and there’s no way he could fake the emotion behind those words. Even in a dream-like state. She’s not creative enough to come up with that particular voice inflection.

“How’d you know?” she presses. “Honestly?” “Aside from your rather startling inability to act like yourself?” “Yeah. Aside from that.”

Stairs creak behind them, a not-quite ominous warning that this conversation has lasted longer than it should and there’s a kid of indeterminate age demanding to be put back to bed just out of sight. Emma should figure out how old her kid is.

Hopefully that won’t ruin the space-time continuum, either.

“You’ve got this lovely habit of calling me babe,” Killian drawls, leaning close enough that Emma swears she can smell him. Wishful thinking, maybe. “And I can’t remember the last time you called me Hook.”

He flashes her another grin — reminiscent of a man who is not this one, and then he’s gone, scooping up the kid and muttering promises against her hair, and Emma never knows how long she spends sitting on the kitchen counter.

She does creep, eventually.

Curiosity gets the better of Emma the longer she sits there, waiting without much hope for Killian to return. He’s not going to. She knows that. There’s only so many times he can come back, and this is a totally different thing than it was before, but it's also a perfect segue to the other reason she hopes off the counter. Her overall discomfort. Literally, and metaphorically. Marble, it seems, is a very fancy stone and good for the kitchen counters some alt-version of her eventually owns, but it also starts to dig into the back of her knees and those knees are bent kind of weird and in the grand scheme of where she wants to look again, inching up the stairs to peer through the barely closed door of Hope’s room is a much more appealing prospect than a basement that apparently houses weapons.

So, Emma doesn’t spend too long thinking of the pros and cons, or how she should really be creeping towards the room of someone who might understand magic and why she’s here. Instead, she winces slightly on the creaky step halfway up the staircase and does her best to stay in the shadows, but these shadows aren’t quite as terrifying as they were in the realm she’s only just recently teleported from and that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot.

He’s reading her a story.

Captain Hook, terror of several storybook seas and probably a few Emma isn’t aware of, just to drive home the confusion point, sits propped up against a mess of pillows with his sock-covered feet stretched out in front of him, and curls pushed up against his side, a book balanced precariously on one thigh and she really would make the world’s worst spy. She hadn’t noticed the empty brace at the end of his arm.

That’s never happened before.

Honestly, she wasn’t even entirely sure it was possible, which is total asshole territory and maybe she’ll just collapse. Right here in the hallway. The carpet looks almost plush, so it might not be the worst move.

And trying to memorize the look of it only feels like a half-dick'ish move, if only because the lack of a hook does sort of confirm the overall safety of this place, and Emma figures that outweighs whatever scene she’s interrupting. Or trying not to, as it were.

Knotted scars line his skin, some of them looking older than others and that makes a few more of Emma’s internal organs flip. Something that feels a bit like anger rises in the back of her throat, an unexpected emotion that isn’t really directed at anyone except the people who caused those scars and that pain and he looks comfortable.

Now, at least.

Even slouched as he is against pillow cases that are far too frilly and remind Emma far too much of her mother. She keeps documenting. Lets her eyes trace over every inch of Killian — the way his fingers fluttering mindlessly against Hope’s back, brushing away strands of hair with the kind of ease that makes it clear this is a regular occurrence. His shoulders aren’t as taut as they were in the kitchen, but his head lolls towards the side more than once as fatigue starts to color his gaze.

The story has princesses in it. Well, one princess. On a rather expansive adventure, if Emma’s actually keeping up with the plot. Dropped into a place she’s unfamiliar with, the princess in question naturally has a dashing love interest — although his name is Charles, so...maybe not all that dashing — and they get into several more adventures. Which include, but apparently are not limited to; taverns, a ridiculous amount of flirting, interactions with pirates, kissing as a distraction, the last of which endlessly entertains Hope, and the overall force of the little girl’s laugh makes Emma’s breath hitch, but then there’s more to the story and of course there’s a ball. More royalty, too. Obstacles are faced, only to be immediately overcome and Emma’s smile happens without any thought to the overall inappropriate nature of it.

“And,” Killian says, shaking his head until his nose grazes Hope’s hair, “the exceptionally dashing prince took on the guards single-handedly, telling the princess to go and get the treasure they’d been looking for. While—” “—’Feating all of them, right?” Hope exclaims. As much as it’s possible to exclaim while also sounding half asleep.

“In dramatic fashion. There was quite a lot of spinning involved. Made his jacket look all the more impressive. Fluttering tails and whatnot.”

Eyes flicker towards Emma’s garbage hiding spot, and she’s still not breathing correctly, so the odds aren’t very good he heard her, but she’s wondered more than once if he doesn’t just have a sixth sense when it comes to her and possibly them, and she pulls her lips behind her teeth.

“What happened after that?”

Most of Hope’s question comes out as a singular word, Killian’s soft laugh both indulgent and decidedly parental and he kisses her once before muttering, “Nuh uh, you’ve already gotten more story than you should, and you’ve got to get some rest.” “But I—”

Shaking his head once is all it takes for silence to descend on the room, although it does come with a slight pout and that’s—weird, it’s weird. Watching her own facial expressions reflect back to her from a kid she didn’t know existed a few hours earlier is more than enough to send Emma reeling. Wobbly knees shake underneath her, retreating in just enough time to not look totally suspicious as Killian mumbles something else and closes the door behind him, and she might have been right about the eye thing.

They practically fly towards her.

And the wall that was far closer than Emma anticipated. Hitting her head on it hurts more than it usually would, she imagines.

“Truly,” he says, “an absolutely Gods awful spy.” “Was that supposed to be plural? On the Gods, I mean?” Tilting his head is the only response Emma gets, and she can’t blame him for that. For anything, really. “Does that happen a lot? The, uh—the stories.”

Silence.

Relatively speaking. There’s the distinct sound of disgruntled kid on the other side of the other side of the door, what Emma figures are four flailing limbs as it appears Hope is determined to beat her half a dozen pillows into submission.

Little sea monster makes a bit more sense now.

“I do that too.”

Fatigue disappears. To make room for the invisible two-by-four that settles between Killian’s shoulder blades, shifting them until his spine is ramrod straight and he’s staring at Emma like that was the most obvious statement in the history of the world.

“I’m well aware,” he says, but his voice drops, gruffer than it’s been all day. She’s going to bite both her lips in half.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s—makes sense, I guess. I, um—” No one actually told her to take her boots off, but Emma might have assumed, and the carpet does feel soft. Through her socks, at least. While she tries to dig a hole into the ground with her toe. So she can fall into it. “Seemed like a popular story.” “Aye, it is. Big fan of sword fights.”

“Ah, well, when they’re full of dashing princes who wouldn’t be?”

It’s another thoughtless sentence. One that makes Killian’s tongue shift and then his mouth shift and Emma only stares at that for a few seconds before her eyes drop to his arm and his wrist and—

He twists his arm. Behind his back.

Her inability to dig a hole with her foot is genuinely disappointing.

“A question for the ages,” he says. “What are the other ones, then?” “Excuse me?” “I cannot keep telling you how badly you mask your expressions. It seems redundant. So while I also can’t imagine getting too much information will be good, you’ve obviously got questions. As do I, if we’re being honest.” “Are we being honest?”

The lack of sword belt — or actual pants — makes it all the more absurd when he leans forward, thumb hooking into the top of the sleepwear he’s got on, and Emma’s fairly proud of her ability to not linger on that particular thing. Less so in her ability to temper the butterflies in her stomach as soon as Killian leans forward.

Directly into her space.

He must radiate heat.

“I’ve never been anything except entirely honest with you, love,” Killian says, and there’s no way to doubt those words or that voice and Emma hasn’t. Ever, actually.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Eventually you really do believe it.” Blood hits her tongue — sharp and absolutely disgusting, threatening to make her retch in the middle of the hallway. Only marginally better than her hole idea. By some miracle, sent from an apparently merciful God, Emma manages to take a deep breath, jutting her chin out and meeting Killian’s almost cautious gaze with a determination of her own.

The kind that sends magic shooting down her arms, and directly into the tips of her fingers. His eyes widen.

“That’s never been the problem. It’s—” They’ve got to stop cutting themselves off. Sentences that hang without end will torment Emma for the foreseeable future, but the muscles in her neck are going to seize up if she doesn’t twist them, and Killian’s fingers tense at his side when her hair moves. Like he wants to brush it away from her face. “Where’d the tree come from?” “Anton.”

“No.” “Swan, we just proclaimed honesty and now you’re—” “—Don’t know if it was a proclamation,” Emma grumbles, but Doc did call her your highness before so maybe she wields that kind of power now. Killian’s lips tilt up.

Finding something else to stare at should be number one on the list of things Emma needs to be doing. Desperately.

“Aye, that usually requires your mother’s seal anyway.”

“My mom? Why would...isn’t Regina mayor of this town?”

Exhaling through his teeth is oddly attractive. “Not as such, no.” “Huh.” “That’s about the right reaction. But to get back to your original question—” Emma sticks her tongue out, Killian’s laugh soaring out of him. Directly into her. It feels that way, at least. Warmth blooms between her ribs, another pulse of magic she resolutely ignores in favor of watching his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle and it would be very easy. All of it. Is, currently. If she’s being honest with herself.

That’s a problem.

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian murmurs.

“Well, depending on who you ask, I either got tugged through time, or I’m being tormented in my dreams and—what?” His eyes have gone very thin. “Tormented, is it?” “That was a shitty choice of words.” Humming, Killian’s eyes move anywhere but Emma’s face, and the regret in her gut is like a black hole and dying star and several other space-based puns she does not understand at all. All she knows is what a mess this is becoming, and she’s been a mess for as long as she can remember so that’s all the excuse she needs, hands moving on a mix of want and instinct that she’ll let herself over analyze later.

He doesn’t flinch.

For another moment, it feels like he’s going to do something drastic. Parting his lips, Emma hears his exhale, the quick flick of his tongue making her toes curl and her fingers tighten, and she wants to run. That’s her schtick. She can’t. She’s rooted to the spot and this carpet, and there’s nowhere to go really.

Getting back to Neverland already seems impossible.

“He’s very happy here,” Killian says, and it takes her a second to realize they’re talking about a giant again. “Has been for years. Grows all sorts of stuff, and you didn’t see the Christmas tree your parents have, but it’s ridiculously massive. Apparently there’s some sort of giant-type gene that helps with that.”

“Well, yeah of course.”

Whatever sound he makes isn’t the laugh Emma selfishly wants it to be, but the air that finds her cheek is warm and his left arm isn’t behind his back anymore. “You can take the bed.”

“What?” “We do have a bed, love.” “Yeah, but—” “—Very gallant of me, I know,” Killian quips, stepping away from Emma and the moment and she can’t believe the moment included talk of a giant growing Christmas trees. Somehow that’s almost comforting. “But it’ll be fine, and well if you’re going to talk to Regina tomorrow—” “—You think I should talk to Regina?” “Don’t you?” Nodding hurts. Standing hurts. The whole thing’s ridiculously melodramatic. “Probably,” Emma admits. “Um, but...maybe on my own?”

She’ll never admit to wanting an objection — this isn’t her life, or her Killian, but it also feels wrong to claim any Killian, and this constant flipping between emotions is going to snap her skull in half. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “Two doors down on the left.”

“Ok, thanks.”

Nodding again, Killian gives her a barely-there smile before moving back towards the stairs he only sort of rushes down. That one step creaks again.

Sleeping doesn’t happen.

Emma didn’t think it would, but it’s disappointing and frustrating all the same. Her muscles ache, practically begging her for unconsciousness, but every time she closes her eyes all she can see is Killian’s face and the space between them and she’s got to get back to Neverland.

Soon.

Emma’s got to fix this.

No one’s at Regina’s house.

Waiting until everyone left her own house is something of a massive copout, and using that particular possessive makes Emma feel like a liar, but she couldn't bring herself to get off the bed until the front door slammed shut and she wasted quite a lot of time sitting on the mattress.

Also very comfortable, despite the distinct lack of sleep it witnessed.

So, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when no one answers Emma’s rather pointed knocks. Or the few kicks she levels at Regina’s front door, just to be sure. All that does is make the wreath hanging out front wobble precariously. “God, fucking—” Snowflakes land on Emma’s face when she tilts her head up, as if the gods she’s challenging are responding. She’s still a little caught on the polytheistic. “Alright, alright, where would she go?”

“Emma?” Spinning, she doesn’t wobble at all — a testament to Regina’s salting regiment for her front steps, and the blonde twenty-something with impressively thick glasses who called her name far too easily grins far too quickly. “What are you doing out here?”

There’s no hint of confusion to her question. At least not in regards to who Emma is. She’s obviously surprised to find her standing there, though, and nothing about her is familiar.

“I’m looking for Regina. Do you know where she might be?”

“Yeah, of course. She went into the office early this morning, said she had to deal with the knights situation and magic acting up and—” “—Magic is acting up?”

“Didn’t Uncle David tell you?”

“No,” Emma shakes her head, already moving because there are only so many offices in this town and it’s got to be the same one. It isn’t until she makes it back to Main Street that her mind catches up with titles, but then the woman is jogging up the stairs of town hall and swinging open doors and Emma’s jaw drops.

At the “Regina Mills, Queen of the Combined Realms” etched in glass in front of her.

“You coming?” this nameless person asks, jerking her head towards the office and at least the wallpaper is the same. Emma gives a jerky nod, willing herself to step forward, but it’s shaky going at best and Regina is on the phone.

The buzzing in her ears makes it difficult to hear the conversation, but Emma picks up the gist. Magic, and knights and the sound of her dad’s vaguely frantic tone, while Regina sighs at regular intervals, rolling her eyes occasionally as well.

“Aunt Gina,” the woman hisses, slumping into the closest chair. Sliding a small handful of bills across her desk, Regina widens her eyes meaningfully, not bothering to cover the receiver before she mutters—

“Only what was on the list, ok? Henry’s stuff is already taken care of, don’t let Doc try and swindle you.”

She gives a crisp salute, Emma’s mind practically tripping over itself because that’s like a slap to her entire being and the sanity she’s only just clinging to at this point. “I’ll sic Killian on him, if he even tries,” she promises, leaning across the desk to kiss Regina’s cheek before breezing out of the office with a quick “see you later, Emma.”

Emma doesn’t move.

And Regina hangs up on David.

“Well,” she says, somehow dragging the word out until it sounds like those royal decrees Killian was talking about, “here you are, then.” “Should practice your surprised face.”

Gasping as dramatically as possible, Regina widens her eyes and jerks back, making her chair squeak on its wheels. Her hand flies to her chest, and the necklace that hangs over her shirt. It looks a bit like an arrow. “How was that?” “My dad called you.” “Probably two seconds after you left the farm. So,” she props her chin on her palm, “time travel, is it? You fall in another portal?”

Blinking as quickly as she is makes it difficult for Emma to stumble into the chair only recently vacated by that girl, but she manages somehow. And doesn’t twist anything in the process. Victories, she’s claiming all of them. “How many time-altering portals are there?” “Only one that I’m aware of, but you also didn’t answer my question and I don’t think you can alter something that hasn’t happened for you yet.” “Because this is the future.”

“Frankly?” “You’re going to do it either way,” Emma grumbles, Regina’s sneer not quite as challenging as she expects it to be.

“Nothing is ever set in stone, not really. Which is why you can appear here. We're...a possibility for you at this point. So, no—I’m not sure you can destroy yourself with knowing. With staying, for sure, but—” “—Wait, what?”

Regina’s fingers flutter against her cheek. “When did you come from?

“Not here.” “Obviously.”

Slumping further into the chair, Emma’s knees nearly slam into her chest. It’s definitely an arrow around Regina’s neck. “Neverland,” she says, “we’d just left the Echo Caves and you’d gone off with Gold somewhere.” “Rumor has it you met Ariel.” “Is that seriously who that was?” Regina nods. Emma exhales. Loudly. “Ok, ok, well—” Recounting the rest isn’t as hard as she expects it to be, details flowing out of Emma like some other water joke she’s not willing to make and Regina doesn’t interrupt. Occasionally her hand drifts back towards the necklace, but Emma chooses to ignore that as well and her mouth is only sort of dry by the time she’s done.

And then Regina purses her lips.

Which speaks volumes, without actually saying words. She says words too. “A giant plant. That crawled out of the ground and—” “—Ok, I never once said it was giant, just that it exploded out of the ground.” “It’s not much better.” “Killian can feel my magic here.” “Yuh huh.”

Lifting both her hands in what Emma can only hope is obvious frustration and soon-to-be-resolved confusion, Regina doesn’t look all that impressed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Emma demands. “Is that a normal thing? I—as far as I know he can’t in Neverland.” “Well, normal is in the eye of the beholder, really, but have you ever actually asked the captain if he can feel your magic?” “Why would I—did you just call him captain? Are you and Killian friends now?” Clicking her tongue, Regina makes a noise that’s neither confirmation nor objection. “I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t—none of this is real.” “Ah, that’s actually a little rude.” “How did this happen, then?” Another noise. More guttural that time, and Emma hopes it hurts the inside of Regina’s throat. She’s feeling a little vindictive. No one’s explained the Unified Realms concept to her yet, that’s why. “I’ve got several working theories, some people who would know far more about Neverland’s vegetation and what its capable of than I would, and the deep-burning desire to know whether or not you told Killian about the plant.”

The gods are clearly feeling particularly charitable to Emma right now. All things considered, she feels like she deserves that.

And she doesn’t fall out of the chair.

“Do you think he remembers this? If I disappeared in Neverland, but he still married me here...God, that’s weird to say.” “Is it, though?’ Regina challenges, scrunching her nose like this is a conversation they can have.

“Why are you also being so goddamn weird?” “Time travels a funny thing. Lots of twists and turns, and potential pitfalls. And I’m not being weird, this is who I am now.” “Huh.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time,” Regina advises. “But I do think you’re right, you need to leave this part of the timeline. It’ll fall apart otherwise.” “You say so calmly.” “I’m almost very confident in your abilities.” “Almost,” Emma echoes, fully prepared for the snark-filled grin that gets her. Flames flicker between Regina’s fluttering fingers, not the first time that’s happened, but it usually only happens in times of particularly high stress and for as even-keeled as the so-called queen is acting, Emma knows at least part of it is a facade. “What happened with the knights? Also, shouldn’t knights from Camelot be under Arthur’s rule?” “That’s a whole other story. One your husband could recount much better than me.” “He’s not my husband.” “Not yet, I suppose.” Grimacing makes it harder to pull a breath in, but Emma’s butterflies make a triumphant return and the coffee maker was still on when she got downstairs. That might not be the coincidence she wants it to be. “The knights,” Emma demands, “what’s their deal?” “Nefarious, it seems. Which isn’t usually how they operate, and is wholly against the law.” “Of your kingdom?” Maybe Regina and Killian are friends. She’s much better at arching her eyebrow now. “Something like that. Anyway, the knights are here, without the proper paperwork, because they claim magic has been acting strangely in Camelot. And they’ve tracked it to our forest. What that magic is doing that’s so strange appears to be some sort of state secret, but Snow’s got a bird on it, so maybe we’ll find out eventually.” “That keeps happening.” “The fleeting nature of a bird’s attention span?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Is she not Mary Margaret, anymore?”

The flames disappear, Regina sitting up a little straighter like they’ve finally delved into the serious part of this conversation, and whatever’s churning in Emma’s gut is a bit like regret. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking about it, then?” “As someone who still hasn’t found Henry in Neverland yet.” “Sounds like we do.” “Not something you ever should have doubted.” “I don’t,” Emma says, only kind of a lie because she still can’t really shake her worry and her fear has always been such a strong part of her; the concept of letting that go is as terrifying as anything else. The coffee had been good that morning. “Why this spot? I mean—if I was going to get tugged to any point in my timeline, Christmas in Storybrooke seems a little out of left field, don’t you think?”

Regina considers that for a moment, drumming her still-flameless fingers on her vaguely imposing desk. “Honestly? Seems like a test.” “Of what?” “You, obviously.” “Speaking English, Your Highness.” “Majesty,” Regina corrects, sliding away from the desk so she can stand up and rest her palms on it and Emma’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head. “And you’re being obtuse on purpose. I understand, but it’s—well, it’s only going to get more annoying, for both of us. The point is, games were part of Neverland. Tricks and sleight of hand, making you believe something that wasn’t there because that belief fueled the place. Belief’s even stronger for you, Emma. Because of what you are, and what you’ve done. Or will do, I guess.” “No pressure.” “Some, but—you’re distracting me. That’s still an unconfirmed theory.” “What is the point, then?” “The point,” Regina repeats archly, “is that pulling you out of Neverland, away from a place that made you feel like the Lost Girl you believe you are, turns this into something of a Utopia. Home, and safety. When’s the last time you celebrated Christmas?” “Never?” “See, everything you’ve ever wanted all tied up and—” “—I don’t want to be married to Hook.”

Disbelief colors every inch of Regina’s face, the sound of her laugh far more evil than she’s been all morning. “You’re an awful liar, Emma Swan. No matter what you do, and all you’ve ever been able to do is make eyes at the pirate.” “I don’t make eyes.” “Don’t worry, he does too. Even now, which is romantic if you like that sort of thing.” “The point, Regina.”

She grins. “You’re being offered a choice. Here, or there. Past or possible future. It’s a dangerous option, Emma, and one you can’t give into, no matter how much you might want.”

Finding her dad is far easier than Regina.

Emma’s feet drift down the path towards the farm, boots squelching in the snow, but none of the moisture gets to her socks and the screen door opens before she can think about knocking.

“Would have been offended if you had,” David says, pulling her against his chest and answering a question she didn’t have a chance to ask. It’s the hand that does it though. Cupping the back of Emma’s head, there’s something inherently safe about the whole thing, her cheek scrunched and her eyes stinging with more unshed tears and the first whimper she lets out is so goddamn depressing she can’t believe it came from her.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” David chants. Over and over, pressing the promise into her hair and her temple, the bridge of her nose once Emma finally lifts her head, and the slight jut of her chin because she’s nothing if not consistently stubborn and falling apart feels like failure.

“C’mon, we’re going to sit down,” David continues, already directing Emma back into the hallway. And through the hallway. Past more pictures, and this couch looks even more comfortable than the one she’d woken up on, and she’d been right about her mother’s taste in pillows. An excess of frill.

“Was I that obvious that you had to immediately call Regina yesterday?" David shrugs, lifting his arm in unspoken invitation. Emma slings her legs over his when she moves, the flannel now under her cheek oddly comforting. As is the kiss she feels pressed to the crown of her head. “A little,” he chuckles, “but mostly it was Killian’s blatant freakout.” “He wasn’t freaking out. At least not here.” “He was. Not loudly, maybe. But obviously. And you looked at Hope like you’d never seen her. That also kind of freaked out your mom.” “How old is she?”

Emma doesn’t bother being anymore specific. She knows she doesn’t have to — not when her dad’s arm tightens around her shoulders, and she wishes she’d come here first, if only to help keep her balanced on the precarious edge of lingering sanity, and she’s got absolutely no idea where Killian went. She should ask about that too. “Four.” “Shit. That’s—shit.” Another chuckle and second kiss, and David has to shift slightly to make sure Emma’s elbow doesn’t impale his side. “Reasonable response, really. Anything else?” “About a million and two things,” Emma admits, with enough acid in her voice to do permanent damage to the atmosphere. Making science-jokes is apparently a coping device now. “Regina thinks it’s a test. Of whether or not I really will leave, when given some sort of idyllic future.” “Well you’re not a selfish asshole, so I’m sure you’ll do what you have to.” “Kinda blunt, Dad.”

It’s not the first time she’s used that word — but titles have been thrown around in enough conversations already, and Emma’s really very wobbly on her metaphorical cliff and she wants something. Solid and dependable and she refuses to acknowledge how Killian might be both. Is definitely both.

In any version of this life.

“Kinda,” David agrees, “but the knights showed up when you did, and I don’t know if that’s a coincidence. There have been reports coming into the station, too. Stuff feeling out of whack across the realms—” “—How many realms are there, exactly? Is Regina in charge of all of them?”

“There was something of an election.” “For a queen?” “We’re a very progressive united coalition.”

“And you’re what? Prince of that?” David makes a contrary noise, and it takes longer than Emma expects to detail the hierarchy of this realm, but she understands why her mom would need to make royal decrees now and why people keep bowing to her and— “So that makes Killian a prince,” Emma says, pleasantly surprised to realize she does not in fact die when her heart explodes. Or when she realizes that some parts of that bedtime story may actually be based in reality.

She kind of wants to see him spin in the middle of a sword fight.

“Tell him that,” David suggests. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.” “Makes me think he won’t.” “Sometimes people bow to him, just to see what he’ll do.” “Challenge them to a duel?” “Nah, that’d mean he has to get his sword and that’s a whole thing. Plus, he’s got stuff to do in the station and there’s a fair bit of sailing involved.” “He keeps his ship?” Emma asks, sharper than she intends because something’s fluttering at the back of her brain and it’s big and important and she’s got absolutely no idea why. “And did you just say station?” David hums. “Doesn’t like wearing the badge though. Which I think is an affront to the position of deputy, but—” She nearly hits his chin. Jerking her head up, Emma’s eyes widen quickly enough that they also water and her dad might be the asshole here because he doesn’t do anything except smile knowingly at her. “You’re happy here, Emma,” he says, “after everything. And there’s a lot of everything, but it ends eventually. Gets the happily ever after it deserves, that both of you deserve. Although he’s a merciless cheat in Monopoly, drives me nuts every Christmas.”

It’s not a laugh. Not really. Sagging forward, air flies out of Emma’s lungs and her very dry lips, and that second thing is because she keeps breathing out her mouth, and trying to piece together a puzzle she wasn’t all that interested in finishing before. Now it’s all she wants, desperate to see what the picture is, and it’s probably very pretty.

A covered bridge, or an oceanscape or something. Thomas Kinkaid, maybe. And part of her hears the warning, knows all too well that she’s already failing the test, but the rest of her absolutely does not care.

“Are you really here, or is that some kind of trick my mind came up with because you’re actually stuck in Neverland?” David kisses her nose. “Here. And for the time being, so are you. Which means you can sleep.”

“Mind reading isn't one of your talents, as far as I knew.” “I get better at it,” he promises, tugging an exceptionally soft blanket off the back of the couch and Emma doesn’t put up much of a fight before resting her head on his shoulder and promptly falling asleep.

There are lights on in half a dozen windows when David’s new — at least as far as Emma’s concerned — truck comes to a stop in front of her absolutely massive house, and she’s got to get out. Easier said than done, particularly with trembling fingers and obviously fluttering curtains in that one bay window, and it takes no less than four tries for her to undo her seatbelt,

“It’s going to be fine” David says again, “no matter what happens.” “Even with magic being weird?” “We’re not sure that’s entirely your fault.”

Scoffing, Emma tries very hard to believe that. No one’s updated them on the location of the bird. She kind of hates this bird. Possibly all birds, really. “Sure it’s not. So, what—I’m just supposed to go back into this stupidly large mansion and—” “—Wouldn’t all mansions be large?” David interrupts. “By default?” “Did we rob a bank to pay for this?” “You’d have to ask Killian, but I don’t think so.” “He says I call him babe.”

Wincing, Emma belatedly realizes this is probably not a conversation she should be having with her father, but she hasn’t really seen her mother and she wants to talk about it to Regina even less, and she obviously can’t bring it up to Killian when she’s avoiding him so much and—

A door slams. Footsteps rush towards them, voices on the breeze and the snowflakes that have kept falling all day because it’s New England and as far as Emma knows it’s required to snow in New England on Christmas. Or in the days leading up.

David nods towards the door she should have opened five minutes ago.

And it takes her about one sharp inhale, two eyes that very nearly fall out of her head, and that maternal-type adrenaline she’s starting to get used to, for Emma to tumble out of the truck, sprint the few feet between them and practically launch herself into Henry’s waiting arms. Arms that are much more adult than she’s familiar with.

Although that does also make it easier for him to tighten them around Emma’s middle, and she supposes time-traveling beggars cannot be choosers. “Hey,” Henry breathes, mostly into her hair. Wind whips around them, only kind of unnatural and a little magical and the door opens again. Emma doesn’t look up. Seeing Killian standing there, with his feet crossed at the ankles, she’s sure, will only drive her closer to a line she’s not all that willing to cross. Yet. Or ever.

No, definitely ever.

Everyone calling him Killian is nice. Exceptionally, so.

“Killian said it was bad, but…” Trailing off, Henry pulls back and Emma’s crying again. Like a total, entirely incompetent ass. She’s got so many questions still. Her arms tighten, a fresh round of terror rattling around her soul, or some other ridiculous sentiment, and Henry doesn’t argue. He kisses the top of her hair too.

He’s much taller than her now.

“Did Killian talk to you?”

“Mom,” Henry sighs, “c’mon—even when I was a kid, that shouldn’t have surprised you.” It doesn’t, not really. But there’s a grown man in her arms, and snow flying around them, and Henry’s barked “not now, Lu” causes another kid to scamper back up the porch. Towards Killian and his ridiculous grey-streaked hair, and he picks her up without looking away from Emma.

He’s looking at Emma.

Still, or always, or whatever.

“Don’t ask what kind of favors he had to pull in to get us here,” Henry adds, “but he said you’d need it, and it might help and Ella definitely wanted to leave, even if she won’t admit to it, so—”

“Stop telling lies, Henry Mills,” another voice calls from behind Killian, and Emma’s going to pass out. For a variety of reasons, least of all her lack of caloric intake today.

Henry clicks his tongue. A family trait, apparently. “It’s not a lie, she didn’t even really want to go, but Lu gets a ridiculous present haul, so we had to and—” Several puzzle pieces fly into place. Helped along by Lu’s rather loud screech of “papa” directly into Killian’s ear, and Emma is glad she hasn’t eaten. Throwing up on Henry’s shoes is not the festive reunion it should be. “I’m really here,” Henry adds, reading Emma’s mind. Or her face. “No matter what you think might have happened in Neverland, it didn’t. I’m here, and you’re here and Killian made food, so you should probably eat.” She’d been right about the puzzle, it is a pretty picture. One that doesn’t belong to her, entirely. But pretty all the same. Desirable, maybe.

That’s a dangerous line of thinking.

“Hook can cook? Ignore that rhyme, please.” Henry grins, marching them back towards the house as David yells something about getting Snow from school and then there are smells and kids and that goddamn Christmas tree. And it takes Emma a few moments she thinks she deserves to realize—

“How did Henry know I’d come from Neverland?” she asks Killian, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s stirring something. She’ll think about that for at least two hours.

“I told him.” “How did you know?” Leveling her with an incredulous stare, Emma once again fails at the whole no blushing thing, and they own a stand mixer. Only adults own stand mixers. “How many times should I request you give me more credit before that also becomes redundant?” “This is probably good enough.” “Generous of you, and it wasn’t very hard. Although I am still trying to pinpoint when it was, exactly. Quite a lot happened in Neverland.” “Looking awfully smug about that.” He shakes his head, offering her the spoon and there’s sauce there. Delicious sauce. This must happen a lot. “Hard to do that when you can’t look at me straight on, but—” “—Echo Caves,” Emma says, rushing to interrupt him. Killian’s eyebrows jump.

“Huh.” “Regina doesn’t think telling me things will affect anything.” “Huh.” “Nothing to add to that?” Silence. More relative, at least. The TV is on, and a pillow fort is apparently being engineered in the living room, and everyone was very quick to leave the pair of them alone. With the sauce. “Thank you, though.”

“For?” “Getting Henry here, whatever favors you had to call in. I—well, Dad told me some of the stuff, and it’s...nice.” His lips disappear when he presses them together. Emma’s still staring, it seems. “Part of the deal, I think.” “Of?” “You really want me to answer that?” “Probably not,” Emma exhales, “but—still. It’s nice, and I...well, I appreciate it.”

“That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Now, c’mon, I know you haven’t eaten and there are some ravenous kids out there who will mutiny if we don’t get them spaghetti soon.”

Emma nods, not able to say anything else because nice is suddenly a vast understatement, and she eats a second bowl of mostly sauce, and she never really knows how she gets back into bed, only that she fell asleep under the pillow fort with Killian’s shoulder close to hers.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #true story: i wrote this chapter #forgot about the absolutely bonkers state of the show's legitimate timeline #and had to go back and age up robyn #or however it's spelled #honestly i did very minimal research for this story

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jinterlude · 4 years

Text

Protecting Each Other

↳ Header created by the amazingly talented @kimtaehyunq from the BHQ’s Banner Request Board.

—Pairing: Seokjin x OC (Sumin) —Genre(s): The Last of US!AU, Zombie Apocalypse!AU, Fluff, Romance, Angst, Fantasy, Slight-Action, & Slight-Humor —Warning(s) / Rating: zombies, semi-graphic description of violence (mainly shooting and killing zombies), weapons (guns and a sword), light graphic description of injuries, blood, brief mentions/hints of deaths of a loved one, light suggestive moments (mainly making out), & swearing / 18+ —Word Count: 16K —Summary: In just one year, the virus swept the planet, destroying everything and everyone in its path and drastically changing the world. However, at least one thing is for certain—Seokjin & Sumin will always have each other.

—A/N: The moment you guys have been waiting for! It is the release of my BB Summer Collaboration Fic! Cue the cheers and confetti! I’m quite proud of myself with how this turned out! I would like to thank my soup friend and forever my number one supporter, Jey @softjeon. It is because of her that this story even came to be the way it is, so this story is dedicated to her.

↬ It is also dedicated to my amazing people: @jinned, @hobiance, @j-sope, @mindays, @ppersonna, @miamorjoon, @parksfilter, & @mygsii. Thank you guys for supporting me and just cheering me on when I needed it. You are truly one of a kind. ↫

» Feedback is always appreciated and thanks for giving my story a chance!

Destruction. That single word echoed in Sumin's mind frequently—on an endless loop. The faint smell of burnt and decaying flesh invaded her poor nostrils as the exhausted young woman carefully maneuvered around the lifeless bodies. Her eyes surveyed her current surroundings, noting how colorless the world had become. How the suffocating silence circled her, engulfing her entire body. Oh, how she missed the times where the sounds of laughter and lively chatter greeted her like a dear old friend. Instead, it was either the painful silence or agonizing screams that said, "hello," to her.

No longer did she see the vibrant colors that caught her attention before the outbreak began. Shifting her gaze downwards, she noted her attire. A faint yet amused smirk formed on her lips as she thought about the irony of her previous observation. She, too, no longer wore bright colors. Now, she wore all black from head to toe.

Her leather jacket? Black.

Her shredded jeans? Black.

Shoes? Black.

Every article of clothing that covered her bruised and wounded body was dark. Well, at least she'd be ready to pay her respects if someone close to her tragically died.

Now, standing in front of a man, who's currently crouched down catching his breath, Sumin remained on high alert. Her right hand gripped the hilt of her Japanese sword to the point that her knuckles turned white. Meanwhile, her left hand held the trusty semi-automatic pistol in front of her. Her index finger rested nicely on the trigger—ready to pull it back at even the faintest snarl heard. She needed to be prepared to fall into action. She couldn’t afford to falter because if she did, then it would cost her significantly. Her hesitation would cost her the life of the person who was the keeper of her heart. She would lose her long-time companion—Seokjin.

Protecting that man was the reason she needed to stay alive. Sadly, he was her only reason to do so. Her family and friends had tragically died one-by-one over the years. To be exact, it was ten years. Ten fucking years since this outbreak came into the picture. Ten fucking years since the zombie attack destroyed any ounce of normalcy she established since she was a child. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone, vanished with a snap of someone's fingers.

Only her boyfriend remained by her side, and the protective young woman prepared to do everything and anything to ensure it stayed that way.

As Sumin continued to stare into the fog, searching for any strange shadows, her eyes picked up a faint sound. Her breath hitched as she clutched her weapons, prepared to attack at any second. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a hand. Without a second thought, she swiftly turned around, pointing her pistol at the person's forehead. At the same time, the blade of her sword pressed into the intruder's neck.

But then, she dropped her weapons, both of the lethal items dangled by her side. A long sigh of relief exited her lips as the exhausted Sumin gave the person a dirty look.

"Jesus, Seokjin. I could've easily slaughtered you. You know that right." She scolded the young man, who only chuckled in response, which further irritated her.

Seokjin wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as he planted a sweet kiss on her temple.

Sumin grimaced and pushed him away, "Ew. I'm all sweaty and bloodied up, Jinnie. No kissing until you and I shower," and just as she finished her statement, she dreaded it instantly. This sense of mischievousness twinkled in his eyes. His lips formed this playful smirk.

Oh, boy. Those two features never made a great combination in Sumin's book. If anything, what came next always left her either a blushing mess that couldn't string a coherent sentence together or chasing the idiot and threatening to punch him.

Silently, she prayed it would be the latter. Sumin wanted to make sure that she could still punch an undead person.

"Jinnie..." She began, forcing a sweet smile on her filthy face, "You better choose your next words carefully or else."

Seokjin's smirk grew, "I don't know what you're talking about sweetheart," He took a step forward, "I was about to suggest something that any loving boyfriend would do for his wonderful girlfriend." He shrugged as his eyes flickered towards Sumin for a moment.

Sumin's breath hitched but soon composed herself.

"Oh, so that's how he wants to play. Game on, Jinnie boy..." She amusingly thought, nodding her head slowly as an alluring smile crept on her face.

Without any warning, Sumin turned the pistol's safety on and tried to fire the gun as a precaution. She then tucked the firearm away in her thigh holster. She secured her prized weapon in its confinement, whistling softly to herself.

As she did that, this unsettling sensation washed over Seokjin's body. His heart raced as if he ran away from a hoard of starving zombies. He suddenly felt parched as Sumin continued to instill fear in him. Her body crouched as she tightened the shoelaces on her boots. How completely still she was as she did something so minuscule. His eyes continued studying her body language, noting how completely balanced she was. He subtly tilted his head, hoping to get a better look at his princess.

"Speaking of ass..." His eyes drifted down Sumin's back, but he forced himself out his unholy thoughts, "Wait, now is not the time to be checking out your girlfriend, Seokjin." He shook his head furiously. His ears perked up at the random sound Sumin made as she stood up. She dusted off her torn jeans before turning her body towards him. An overly sweet smile greeted the scared man.

Seokjin flashed a smile, chuckling nervously at her as he swallowed his saliva; his Adam's apple bobbed a few times. Sadly, it only made him thirstier.

His tongue swept the bottom of his dry lips. Then, he spoke,

"Princess," He began, clearing his dry throat, "Are you preparing for another battle with the undead?" A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, "You know, the more you whistle, the more anxious I become. Do you want that, Sumin? Do you want to be dealing with a nervous boyfriend while we fight for our lives? I think not!" He finished his rather dramatic yet short monologue.

Sumin's face went poker-faced as she nodded her head slowly. No words escaped her lips, maintaining the eerie silence that surrounds the environment. Her eyes narrowed as she homed in on her target. She cracked her neck, releasing the tension in her muscles as she took a step toward the poor man.

As she stepped forward, Seokjin stepped backward. The attractive couple continued this rather odd dance for a few minutes until - suddenly - Seokjin grabbed his pack and bolted away from the menacing young lady.

Sumin bolted after him, shouting at him to stop being such a coward and face her like a real man. Though, she was careful not to alert any enemies of their presence. The last thing she wanted to deal with, on top of Seokjin behaving like a child, was a mob of ravenous zombies.

Yup...definitely not on her nonexistent to-do list.

With her lungs practically begging for air, Sumin refused to let that man escape her grasps. She easily dodged the low hanging branches while keeping her eye on the prize. The prize of closing the gap between her and Seokjin, so she could punch the living shit out of him. What made the situation funnier was that Seokjin taunted her endlessly. Each insult that spewed out of that gorgeous man's mouth fueled her desire - that competitive drive - to tackle him to cold hard concrete.

Then, as if God answered her wish, Sumin's eyes gleamed with excitement as she focused her attention on his perfectly still body.

"HA! I knew you'd stop being such a little bitch and take my punch like a mature adult!" She exclaimed as she jogged up to him. Just as she drew back her fist, she swiftly caught on to Seokjin's odd expression. No longer did he wear this playful mask but now dawned an emotion that Sumin thought she'd never see again.

Complete and utter disbelief.

Carefully, Sumin placed a warm hand on the young man's broad shoulder; her eyes dripped with concern.

"Jinnie..." The concerned lady began but was soon interrupted.

"Do you know where we are, Sumin?"

"I...uh..."

"Imagine everything lit up. The entrance sign lit so brightly that blinded anyone who dared to stare directly at it. Now, add the sounds of the arcade and carnival games going off every second as loud chatter mixes in with the lively atmosphere. Children that scattered all over the fairgrounds as they ran towards their parents, screaming from excitement as they begged their parents to win them yet another gigantic stuffed animal."

Sumin still didn't quite understand what Seokjin was talking about until he said,

"Look at the broken-down stand in the far-right corner," He pointed in that specific direction, "You see those beaten up stuffed animals?" He asked as he intertwined their fingers together. He then guided the two of them towards the row of carnival games. The unhappy pair carefully maneuvered around the fallen debris, planning their steps accordingly. The last thing they wanted to do was deal with one of them having a broken ankle.

The more Seokjin and Sumin adventured down the row of destroyed carnival games, the more Sumin's face became solemn as sadness washed over her entire body. Her jaw clenched, and her breath hitched. She couldn't believe it. She took in every single torn down - practically shredded - dull banners as she passed the poorly maintained game stands. The same game stands she and Seokjin used to frequent every summer and the reason she came home with a massive pile of stuffed animals. It was thanks to that lovesick fool that she no longer had space in her closet for her cuddly friends. At the same time, it was because of those soft stuffed animals that got her hooked on Seokjin's charms in the first place.

God, the more she reminisced about her countless summer spent at this fair, the more she became depressed. However, she couldn't stop thinking about those specific moments in her life. After all, those days led her to the man that she absolutely could never imagine living her life without him.

"I wonder if this place was the first to go?" asked Sumin, voicing her innermost thoughts as her doe-like gaze switched to Seokjin. She noted how tight his jaw was as if he tried his hardest to maintain his composure.

"I hope not..." He trailed on as he continued to survey his surroundings, "Though, it wouldn't surprise me if it was since the annual summer fair always drew in a massive crowd." He finished, letting out a soft, airy chuckle.

The corners of her lips curved upward as Sumin read his mind.

"Yeah. Kind of how it drew us together for the very first time, right?"

"What do you mean, kind of drew us together? It matched two beautiful people together."

Sumin's face fell, "Are you sure? Because I remember our fateful meeting quite differently."

Seokjin gawked. He couldn't believe the words that came out of his princess' mouth.

"Oh, do tell how that day went, then, Minnie

"Gladly...!" She exclaimed with an intriguing twinkle in the corner of her eyes.

Seokjin scoffed playfully, "Oh, I can't wait to hear this."

The petite young female shot an irritated look at the attractive man before beginning her tale.

"Well, as you know, it started on that Friday evening. You had just gotten out of her last class of the week and..." Sumin trailed on. Her words echoed in the back of Seokjin's mind as he, too, recalled their meeting so vividly.

For the twentieth time that evening, Sumin checked her appearance using her front-facing camera. Her trembling hands ran through her beach curled hair, positioning it in a way that made her look charming yet radiated innocence. It wasn't every day that she was set up on a blind date by a good friend of hers. However, she wasn't a stranger to the dating scene, so why did she feel so damn nervous? Why did her heart pound against her chest as if she ran from her house to the fairgrounds?

Suddenly a look of complete and utter dread washed over her face as this horrendous thought implanted itself in her frenzied mind. Without a second thought, Sumin subtly smelled herself, praying to every God known to man that her sweet rose perfume still lingered around her body. She sneakily raised her arms and took a quick whiff under her armpits.

"Oh, thank God. My tropical fruit-scented deodorant is still working." She thought as this massive sigh of relief exited her lips. She dropped her arm, and as she raised her head, her eyes went round. Her breath hitched as this feeling of embarrassment hit her like a tidal wave.

"Please don't be my blind date. Please don't be my blind date." She repeatedly chanted as a drop-dead gorgeous man started walking up to her. With every footstep, he slowly closed the gap between them, and as he closed that distance, Sumin's anxiety increased. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach flew into a flurry, which only caused the poor young girl to smile nervously. She also chuckled softly as she awkwardly waved her hand.

"Great. Now, that handsome fellow is going to think I'm this huge doofus." She mused as she quickly mustered the sweetest smile and introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Sumin. I'm Seokjin, but my friends call me Worldwide Handsome." The handsome fellow greeted back, playfully winking at her as he displayed this thousand-watt smile.

Sumin became lost for words. She slightly parted her mouth as she wrapped her mind around the fact that this attractive man seriously said that his friends called him "Worldwide Handsome." Her eyes flickered with annoyance before switching back to politeness.

But before she could ask him if he was serious, Seokjin beat her to it.

"I'm kidding. My friends don't call me that," Another wave of relief washed over Sumin, but once she heard Seokjin's next sentence, that moment of peace was over, "I call myself that. I've been spending my entire high school career trying to get my tasteless friends to admit that I'm good looks are enough for me to hold the title of 'Worldwide Handsome.'"

Out of nowhere, Sumin felt a slight twitch in her right eye. Her body heated up. Her breathing grew heavy as her nostrils flared slightly.

Yeah, they didn't even get past the formalities., and his words ended the date right there.

As the irked young lady opened her mouth, ready to apologize to him that she wanted to end the date, a high-pitch noise emitted from his lips. It was almost as if she activated her car's windshield wipers.

"Oh, my God, I can't keep this charade up any longer," He paused, continuing his fit of laughter. The laughter grew too much for him as he clutched the sides of his stomach. "Congrats, princess. You passed." He vaguely announced, further irritating Sumin.

The serious honey-brown haired woman stared at the tall immature man through slit eyes. Her mind battled if she should ask him to clarify or not. Part of her - scratch that - most of her wanted to go home, but, sadly, the curious side got the best of her, so she asked Seokjin what he meant by his strange words.

The towering, well-dressed man cleared his throat, "Well, my young and surprisingly beautiful princess, what I meant is that you passed the, 'can this potential girlfriend handle my arrogant side and be honest with her reaction rather be fake?' test." He answered, keeping this calm tone of voice.

Suddenly, Seokjin shot Sumin with a playful wink, as he dug out his wallet from the pocket of his light pastel blue zipper hooded sweatshirt. A faint, "ah-ha," escaped his plump lips as he waved his black leather wallet in front of the unamused female.

Sumin raised her brow, finding Seokjin's actions odd and silently berating herself for not going home yet. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something in the back of her head told her to continue humoring the princely idiot.

Her conscience had better be right.

"Is that your hint that you want me to pay for our entrance tickets?" inquired Sumin as she prepared to dig for her wallet in her cotton candy-colored purse. However, as her fingertips grazed the zipper of the wallet, Seokjin gently grasped her wrists. For a split second, a single strand of electricity shot up through her right arm, igniting the nerves that laid beneath.

The longer Seokjin touched her wrist, the more Sumin's cheeks became heated. Just this once, Sumin was glad that it was Summer. She could easily blame the heat on her flushed cheeks, and not the fact that she felt this unspeakable spark between them.

Not wanting to become a blushing mess, Sumin gently tore her hand away from his grasp—much to Seokjin's dismay. Unknown to her, but he felt that spark as well. Never in his years of dating other women did he feel the same that Sumin did. The kicker was that she didn't even know that she had this hold - this magnetic pull- over him. Seriously. She could ask him to tell his friend Jungkook that he sucked at bowling, and he would gladly do it even though it was a death wish in doing so.

Wait, what happened? Where did those thoughts come from as he usually would never think about that, especially towards a woman he had just met? Pushing the confusion away, Seokjin lightly shook his head and plastered a sincere smile on his attractive face.

"Anyway, since we are losing daylight, why don't we go inside the fairgrounds, and yes, I'm gonna pay for your ticket. Don't argue with me on that, okay?" He kindly suggested as he maintained the wicked smile that caused both men and women to swoon over him.

Sumin chuckled, "Alright, you can pay for my entrance ticket, but I'm gonna pay you back by winning you a stuffed animal, cool?" She said with a sunny, innocent smile.

Seokjin's body slightly froze as he thought, "Okay, she might have beaten me in terms of having a smile that caused hearts to skip a beat," He quickly pulled himself back into reality and agreed to Sumin's suggestion.

Though, it wouldn't result in her trying to win him a stuffed alpaca. An hour into their date, Sumin wanted to succeed at winning him that cuddly stuffed alpaca but kept losing at the ring toss. Refusing to give up, the stubborn young lady shelled out another ten-dollar bill and slammed it on the wooden counter.

"Alright, Seokjin, prepare to- wait, what are you doing?" She questioned as Seokjin took the tiny plastic ring from her dainty hands.

The equally as determined man positioned himself in front of her and said,

"I'm gonna win you that alpaca, princess," He stretched his right arm, warming up his muscles, "So, prepare to be amazed by my professional throwing skills!" He announced; his voice was almost loud enough to be overheard by every single person at the carnival.

Sumin giggled softly, shaking her head playfully. Then, a brilliant yet bold idea popped into her mind.

With a seductive grin painted on her lips, Sumin stood on the tips of her toes and courageously planted a kiss on Seokjin's cheek. On the outside, Sumin appeared calm as a clam. However, on the inside, it felt like there was a tornado in the pit of her stomach. Then, a feeling of regret followed, but Sumin pushed it away. A good friend of hers told Sumin that she needed to be confident and more flirtatious. Now, she hoped that her friend's advice paid off.

"I'm sorry if that was too forward, I thought you could use a kiss for good luck?" Sumin quickly apologized, averting her gaze. Her cheeks became flushed as the bashful woman messed with the hem of her dress.

Then, a hand clamped over hers before the cold sweat from her hands left an embarrassing stain.

Sumin's eyes trailed upward and soon widened with how close Seokjin's face was. He was so close that their noses were merely inches away from bumping into each other.

As the doe-eyed Sumin parted her mouth to speak, Seokjin gently pressed his right index finger on her lips. Sumin's gaze flickered to his hand, noticing the plastic ring hanging on his pinky.

"First, thank you for that sweet kiss. It granted me all the luck in the world needed to win these rigged carnival games," He removed his index finger and stood up straight, "Second, now I'm even more determined to win you that alpaca so that I can get another kiss. Perhaps, this time, maybe on the lips?" He flirted, winking at her before he turned his back towards her and prepared to play the ring toss game.

Sumin mustered enough courage and composed herself.

"Let's talk after you win me, RJ."

"RJ?"

"Yeah, that's going to be the name of our cuddly stuffed animal."

Seokjin chuckled at how adorable Sumin was.

"Okay, RJ, it is."

Sumin cheered as she shook her hands in excitement, eager to hug the alpaca.

Her cheers faded into the back of his mind as Seokjin gently pulled himself away from that beautiful memory. It honestly felt so real to him. The smell of deep-fried food lingered around his nostrils while the sounds of Sumin's cute protests echoed in his ears. A reminiscent smile formed on his gorgeous face as he recalled the events that happened after he successfully won her RJ. She dragged him around each food stand and paid for any item that they wanted to try together, though Seokjin offered to pay for the more expensive food items. However, being the stubborn woman that she was, Sumin swatted his hands every time he reached for his wallet.

To this day, he could still feel the stinging sensation on the backs of his hands. Who would've thought that his princess had some strength to her?

"Why are you rubbing your hand, Jinnie?" Sumin's voice pulled Seokjin away from his thoughts. He glanced down and low and behold; he did rub his hand as if she smacked his hand a few minutes before. He ceased his odd action and then threw a warm and loving arm around Sumin's shoulders and pulled her close.

"Don't worry about it, princess, but I still think that you told some aspects of our first date incorrectly." He teased with a lop-sided grin. "If I remember that night correctly, it was I who tried out the ring toss stand first," He playfully tapped Sumin's nose, "And it was you came to my aid like the breathtakingly goddess protector I know you are." He finished before innocently pecking her sweet lips.

Sumin playfully rolled her eyes as the corner of her mouth curved upward. She then lightly shoved her foolish boyfriend, creating space between them.

"Anyway, where should we go next? We still need to find these so-called, 'Fireflies,' if we want any answers on this cure." She asked, surveying the abandoned fairgrounds. Her eyes flickered from every direction, ensuring that there weren't any abnormal shadows nearby.

A faint hum emitted from Seokjin's mouth as he, too, looked around. Then, something captured his attention as he was about to finish his search. He quickly focused his gaze onto the Ferris-wheel as he annoyingly pushed Sumin, repeatedly telling her to look into the distance.

The annoyed honey-brown haired girl lightly slapped his hand away, demanding that he stop being weird.

"I can't help it. You just make me a fool for you, Minnie." Seokjin flirted, causing his girlfriend to gag.

"I swear you are too much sometimes," She readjusted the strap that held her Katana, "But, when you want to, you do spout some intellectual things," She smiled brightly at Seokjin, "Let's head towards that Ferris-wheel and use it as our vantage point." She suggested, which of course, Seokjin agreed as he laced his fingers with hers. Then, the two hiked over to the gigantic wheel, hoping that it could give them some form of a clue.

Minutes later, the duo arrived in front of the rusty Ferris-wheel. The curious young woman broke away from her boyfriend as this strange magnetic pull forced her to step towards the poorly maintained ride. Her fingers grazed the rough cold metal as Sumin noted both the rust and vines that surrounded the wheel.

"It's so strange..." muttered the shocked girl as she stepped back.

Seokjin slowly nodded, unsure what to say next as specific memories plagued his mind. Thoughts of him and Sumin passing by this very Ferris-wheel as he begged her to go on it with him. Whenever he explained to Sumin why they had to ride this attraction, he always told her that it was part of the book of romance. Naturally, his sweetheart demanded that she sees this book so that she could see that so-called rule. The more he thought of that event, the more he chuckled.

His princess was always the skeptical one, but that made their relationship refreshing. They never behaved like any other couple, and he wouldn't want it any other way.

As he forced himself away from his beautiful memories of his lovely lady, he noticed Sumin doing something strange in the corner of his eye.

"Uh...sweetheart? What are you doing?" questioned Seokjin as he continued to watch his girlfriend with curiosity.

Sumin hummed as she glanced over her shoulder, "Oh, I’m gonna climb the Ferris-wheel and use it as our vantage point." She explained as she undid the belt that held her Katana and shrugged off her leather jacket.

"I see...I see..." Then, her words finally registered in his mind, "I'm sorry? Did you say that you were going to climb the Ferris-wheel? Miss ‘I'm afraid of heights’?" He asked with a quizzical expression on his face. The longer he thought about his girlfriend climbing up that poorly maintained carnival attraction, the more he became concerned. It didn’t help that those worries conjured up every worst-case scenario known to man and flooded his mind with them.

Yeah…

He definitely did not want Sumin climbing up there, and just as he shrugged off his jacket, Sumin spoke,

"Yup! Now, stay down here and keep watch, okay? You have my sword if you need an extra weapon." She said with a cheerful smile, reassuring her worried boyfriend. It was as if she read his mind and wanted to wash away his unnecessary concerns.

Seokjin looked utterly stunned. Every time he opened his mouth to say something, Seokjin swiftly closed it as he knew that he couldn't stop his headstrong princess from doing something if she already made up her mind.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Seokjin quickly hugged her and placed a warm kiss on her temple. As he pulled away, he told her,

"Remember what I told you the first time we rode this together?"

"Yeah...don't look down."

Seokjin uttered a quick, "good," as he released his loving hold on Sumin and watched her start her journey up the rusty fair ride.

His eyes remained glued on her body as he watched the love of his life climbed up the ladder of the neglected attraction. Seokjin's mind drifted to the first time he successfully got his princess to ride the Ferris-wheel as he stared at her fading backside, slowly becoming one with the sky.

Crossing her arms underneath her chest, Sumin blinked a few times. She tilted her head slightly as she tried to comprehend the fact that her boyfriend of almost two years wanted her to go to the Ferris-wheel. Also known as the fair's local death trap.

A short yet heavy sigh escaped the hesitant woman as her gaze focused on Seokjin, who currently nibbled on his bottom lip. A cute little habit that Seokjin had whenever he was deep in thought. That was one of the many quirks she learned about him over their two years of being together. The fun part of that sentence was that he always had her learn something new about him every day.

That was one part of their loving and entertaining relationship that she would never trade for the most expensive diamond in the entire universe.

Seokjin was priceless, and Sumin was incredibly lucky to be with someone like him.

Speaking of which...

"Okay, I got the ultimate bribery for you, princess!" Seokjin piped up, pulling Sumin away from her loving thoughts.

The corners of her lips turned up as curiosity burned in Sumin's eyes.

"Oh? And, what are you exactly going to bribe me with, huh, Jinnie boy?" She asked with hints of playfulness in her words.

Seokjin chuckled, "I'm glad you asked, my curious kitten," He then pointed at the nearby cotton candy stand, "If you go on the Ferris-wheel with me, I will buy you all the cotton candy your heart desires!" He exclaimed with eyes practically pleading Sumin to say yes.

A hum escaped her lips as Sumin lightly tapped her chin; her bottom lip jutted out as she "seriously" thought about his offer.

"I don't know, Seokjin, you know well enough that I'm deathly afraid of heights, you're practically asking me to risk my life just for tonight since you want to see the 4th of July firework show at the top of the wheel," Sumin lightly shook her head, "You're gonna have to do better than that, Jinnie." She stated, shrugged her shoulders.

Seokjin's eyes narrowed on her as he mentally cursed at how argumentative Sumin could get—when she wanted to be. He made a mental note to make sure that his princess never hung out with a particular headstrong friend of hers. If he didn't know any better, he knew that Sumin's good friend more than likely told her about his romantic plans for their 4th of July celebration.

"That pain in the ass..." He muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.

Unfortunately, for him, Sumin heard his words and assumed that he called her that. However, she knew better not to start a fight with him over an assumption. She learned that lesson the hard way after an evening of arguing with him over a hunch that almost caused them to break up just before the night of their big first-anniversary date. From that night on, Sumin learned to always ask for clarification. She vowed never to feel that devastating heartbreak again.

Mustering an innocent smile, Sumin eyed him accusingly, "I'm sorry, who's 'that pain in the ass'?"

Seokjin nearly choked on his spit. His body tensed. He then slowly focused his gaze onto the woman that not only made his heart skip a beat but also instilled fear into him. There was nothing in between those two feelings.

The nervous young man opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it as he had to pick his next choice of words carefully. Having a full-blown fight with her was certainly not on tonight’s romantic agenda. Instead, he wanted to share the most magical kiss with his princess and then confess how much he loved her.

While, yes, they had been together for almost two years, Seokjin and Sumin never said, "I love you," to each other. Their mutual friends told them that they took their relationship a little too slow for their liking. Still, Sumin wanted to make sure their feelings towards each other were genuine, and Seokjin respected that.

He wanted her to know that he was just as serious about them as she was.

Which motivated the handsome fool to say,

"Not you," He gently took Sumin's hands as complete and utter adoration burned in his eyes, "Which is why not only will I give you an endless supply of cotton candy, but I will bestow you the most romantic kiss ever known to man, if you agree to go on the Ferris-wheel with me," He quickly glanced at his watch, "We have exactly an hour to wait in that line, get on one of those carts, and slowly ride up to the top of the wheel where we will stop and enjoy the firework display," He smiled warmly at her, praying to every God out there that she would say yes, "So, how about it? You and me? All alone in that surprisingly roomy compartment?" He finished, eager to hear Sumin's answer.

Sumin remained silent as she glanced up to the Ferris-wheel, pondering for a moment. Then, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, she opened her sweet lips and said,

"Yes. I will ride the Ferris-wheel with you."

Sumin suddenly shrieked, followed by this soft laughter as Seokjin abruptly picked her up and twirled her around. Bystanders would've thought that he just proposed to her, and she said yes. That was how ecstatic Seokjin was for finally getting Sumin to agree to ride the wheel with him, especially since he knew how afraid of heights she was.

That was true love right there, and it solidified the never-ending devotion he bore for her.

Gently placing his princess on the ground, Seokjin softly pecked her nose before intertwining their hands together.

With a sincere smile painted on his lips, the handsome young man guided the woman, he absolutely adored, towards the semi-long waiting line to get on the ride. The happy couple passed the time by talking about everything and anything popped in their heads. They talked about how their college courses went the past Spring Semester. They spoke of how goofy their group of friends was, especially when two of their friends sabotaged each other's audition for the theater department's Spring musical.

Sumin still couldn't believe that Jungkook and Hoseok became infatuated with the same girl, who auditioned to play the main heroine in the play.

Slightly shaking her head, she cuddled up to Seokjin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, covering her goose-bumped riddled arms. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the addictive scent of his cologne.

Seokjin peered down with an amused smirk plastered on his face.

"I'm starting to think that you only restocked my cologne with this scent because you personally like it," He shuffled their bodies up to the front of the line, "Not so much that you think that it's a scent that works well on me." He teased, chuckling at how precious Sumin was as she vigorously shook her head.

She then looked up with her doe-like gaze, “I bought it because you said that you personally liked it and it worked well for you,” She untangled himself for her but only for Seokjin to wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder, “Don’t pin it on me, mister.” She stated as the ride operator asked if they wanted to ride alone or together while the cart slowly stopped in front of the couple.

Seokjin quickly answered that they wanted to ride together before Sumin had the chance to say some sarcastic remark.

The ride operator nodded and waved them over, allowing them to cross the safety line. The carnival worker politely helped Sumin into the cart then helped Seokjin afterward. The worker quickly did the safety check, making sure everything worked properly before pushing the start button.

The second the cart moved upwards, Sumin’s breath hitched. Panic settled in the pit of her tummy. Her breathing grew sporadic as the carriage continued going higher.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seokjin noticed how tense his princess was and reached over to grab her hands. He gently caressed the backs of her hands as he whispered words of encouragement and peppered her faces with kisses.

“I know it’s too late to say this, but don’t look down.”

“Oh, you’re damn right it’s too late to say that!”

A low whine escaped her mouth as she continued to resist taking a peek down below. The extremely stressed out girl flailed her legs as if she hoped that maybe her kicking her legs would speed up the ride. It didn’t, but a girl could dream, right?

Sumin whined, “Ah, how much longer to the top, Jinnie?” She asked, her voice shaky as she placed a trembling hand on her chest. She felt how her heart practically hammered against her chest, and then it suddenly stopped.

Slowly prying one of her eyes open, Sumin saw Seokjin’s hands tightly holding hers. That explained why she suddenly felt this warmth transfer to her cold hands. However, she began to feel more than just his body heat; she started to feel his courage. The longer he held onto her, the more she felt safe with him. With Seokjin by her side, whispering words of encouragement and showering her with all of the admiration he bore for her, she felt invincible.

Seokjin challenged her by facing her fear of heights. He showed her that while yes, it terrified her to no end, she still had a courageous side to her that needed just a little shove.

Ah, Sumin hated when he unknowingly proved a point to her… God damn it…

Gently opening her other eye, a faint gasp escaped her gentle lips. Her eyes widened at the marvelous view. The city lights twinkled like the stars in the night sky as tiny streaks of red and white gradually passed by the fairgrounds.

What she currently saw, at that moment, was the epitome of a brand-new world—and she owed it all to Seokjin.

Without a second thought, Sumin grabbed Seokjin’s face and kissed his cheek sweetly, letting out a giggle as she pulled away.

A boyish grin appeared on Seokjin’s princely face, “What was that for, princess?” He lightly questioned.

Sumin maintained her loving smile, “For always pushing me to be better,” She said, resting her head against his broad shoulder, “You always know me better than I know myself.” She added as Seokjin rested his head against hers.

“Well, think of it as me returning the favor. You constantly pushed me out of my comfort zone, so naturally, I’d do the same for you.” He stated with a meaningful expression as the Ferris-wheel momentarily came to a halt.

Sumin’s brows furrowed as tiny creases formed on her forehead. Curiosity washed against her body but soon evaporated as the couple heard loud booms followed by flashes of colorful lights.

The easily enamored young lady stared into the night sky in complete awe. Her eyes sparkled like the fireworks that lit up the sky. It was during that moment that Sumin briefly forgot that she was an adult with responsibilities. Responsibilities that came with being a college student who enrolled in a full course load of classes. She forgot about the endless pile of assignments, group projects, and presentations.

For only tonight, the only thing - the only person - she needed to focus on was the attractive fellow that sat next to her.

Which reminded her…

Taking a slow, deep breath, Sumin emptied the nerves that riddled her body. She repeated that action a few more times until she felt weightless. For the past few

months, unknown to Seokjin, she practiced how to confess her love to him. After all, this would be a gigantic leap for them in their relationship.

With a final deep exhale, the shy brunette turned her body towards her boyfriend as the fireworks continued to decorate the black canvas that covered the town. Flashes of color illuminated the Ferris-wheel as Sumin slowly leaned in with rosy-colored cheeks.

“Seokjin…?” She softly called out to him, causing the boy to hum in response; though, his eyes didn’t leave the firework show.

“Can you look at me for a second? I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, that is not something any boyfriend wants to hear coming out of their girlfriend’s mouth.”

“I’m serious, Jinnie!”

“I’m serious too, princess! The moment any girlfriend says that to their significant other, it’s—”

Seokjin’s lips were captured by Sumin’s. Her hands slowly reached up to his neck, gently grasping it as she pulled him closer. Their chests pinned against one another as the couple gradually became lost in each other’s embrace. Seokjin’s hands rested on Sumin’s thighs. At the same time, her fingers entangled themselves in between locks of his hair, gently tugging at them as their kiss grew more fervent.

Tiny moans floated into the air, mixing with the powerful booms from the firecrackers, as the two battled for dominance; neither one of them allowed the other to win, as Seokjin and Sumin remained in their tight embrace for what seemed like an eternity.

Reluctantly, Sumin pulled away as she remembered why she called for him in the first place.

“As I was saying before we passionately kissed each other,” She smiled brightly, chuckling as she wiped away her remaining lip gloss off Seokjin’s swollen lips, “I need to tell you something, and no, I’m not confessing a relationship sin nor am I breaking up with you, you dramatic doofus.” Sumin paused again, soothing the butterflies that fluttered in her tummy, “I wanted to tell you that…I’m in love with you…” She finally confessed with bright red cheeks as passion burned in her eyes.

A massive sigh of relief escaped her lips as she finally and courageously announced that she was utterly head-over-heels in love with him. Now, she didn’t expect Seokjin to say it back since they both agreed, at the beginning of their relationship, that they would say, “I love you,” at their own pace, but a part of her felt afraid. Scared that maybe she said it a little too soon for Seokjin’s liking and now scared him off.

Oh, great. Here came the regret of announcing her love too early, hitting Sumin like a massive tidal wave as her boyfriend remained silent with a straight face.

Sumin sucked in air between clenched teeth, nodding her head as she scolded herself for confessing her love. Slowly, she turned her body, and as she was about to create space between them, she felt a pair of hands cup her cheeks and pull her into the most mind-blowing kiss ever.

Her eyes fluttered close as she became lost in the kiss, and during that heated exchange, she heard Seokjin say in between pecks,

“I’m…in…love…with…you…too…”

With one and final kiss, Seokjin pulled away, though he would instead continue kissing her as he showed her just how much he loved her. As he unraveled himself from her body, he couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed how flushed Sumin’s cheeks were.

He wasn’t going to lie, seeing his princess, a total blushing mess boosted his confidence as this sense of pride surged through his body. He unknowingly puffed out his broad chest as he flung a warm around Sumin’s chest while the Ferris-wheel slowly resumed operating.

“You know, I don’t think our future anniversaries are going to top this one.”

“Yeah. I think you might be right, but I’ll still love you even if our next year’s date consists of us chilling on my roof and stargazing.”

“Huh. I think you just gave me an idea for our annual Autumn dates!”

Slowly opening her eyes, a faint smile graced Sumin's face as Seokjin's words echoed throughout her mind.

And true to her boyfriend's word, he did set up a stargazing date for their yearly Autumn dates.

It still baffled her mind that he was always consistent whenever he suggested something unexpectedly, but that was something that made her fall more in love with Seokjin.

Speaking of love…

Peering down with an exciting twinkle in her eye, Sumin took a deep breath before shouting,

“If I recall that night correctly, I did not confess my love to you until the week after!”

Not even a minute later, Sumin heard Seokjin’s fake laughter, causing the amused young woman to genuinely chuckle as she shook her head, slowly climbing down the Ferris-wheel. There was no point in staying up there if she didn’t see any abnormalities in the shadows.

As the fearless lady descended the ladder, Sumin could hear Seokjin make a few jabs at her memory—or lack of one.

“And another thing, my gorgeous yet always wrong princess! How could I’ve told the story wrong when my memory is ten times better than yours!? So, there! I win!” bragged Seokjin, completely forgetting the fact this booming voice could easily attract a horde of the undead.

A low growl escaped from the annoyed girl’s lip as she paused in her steps. Her gaze drifted upward as the anger bubbled within her chest. Her grip tightened on the rusty metal of the ladder; her knuckles turned white, which meant that the poor girl was seconds away from punching her oh-so-charming boyfriend.

Was it too late to leave Seokjin behind while she journeyed off to find the Fireflies? After all, her boyfriend could easily manage a bunch of zombies on his own.

Forcing out a sigh, Sumin continued her journey down, loving yet hating the fact that she could never leave him behind.

She loved him too damn much…

Little by little, Sumin gradually closed the gap between herself and the sweet ground that she wished her feet stepped on as opposed to the tiny stairs. As much as she didn’t mind heights anymore, she would rather be on the floor if she could help it. More comfortable to defend herself and Seokjin if necessary.

“Ah, I hope he’s doing….” She mumbled to herself, stopping abruptly when her eyes picked up something strange into the distance. She halted in her place. Her eyes squinted, hoping that it would help her vision become sharper. Then, her breath hitched as it grew sporadic. Her chest tightened as she gripped the ladder once again.

This heaviness of complete and utter dread crashed into Sumin’s body like a gigantic tidal wave that hit into a city. She slowly felt the wind knock out of her as the horrific shrieks drew near.

Then, her heart completely stopped the moment she heard Seokjin cry out to her in terror.

“Seokjin, just leave me!” She commanded sternly as the adrenaline-fueled woman rushed down the ladder, no longer caring if she fell from the ladder. Sumin was close to the ground anyway and could quickly get into a combat-ready stance while Seokjin dashed to safety.

Seokjin’s safety would forever and always be a top priority for Sumin…

As the worried young woman descended from the maintenance ladder, practically near the gravel, she heard Seokjin idiotically taunt the undead as they surrounded him, desiring so much to eat his warm flesh. However, the secretly terrified young man couldn’t let his fear consume him. He needed to protect Sumin as he could never imagine living his life without her. Since the start of this horrendous outbreak, the lovestruck man vowed to protect his beloved and ensured that no harm came her way.

He hasn’t failed yet, nor would he ever fail at keeping his promise because, just like Sumin, Seokjin’s utmost priority is his girlfriend’s safety.

Using his sacred promise as his motivator to keep fighting, Seokjin peeked into the scope and fired shot after shot with his semi-automatic rifle, readying another round of ammo as his ammunition clip emptied.

Just as he pulled out the emptied ammo, Seokjin felt something sharp swipe at his right arm, creating a gash on his bicep as blood streamed down and stained his black leather jacket; though, it didn’t matter as no one would notice it. Well, the horde of undead caught it as the addicting scent of fresh plasma enticed them even more, sending them into a frenzy.

The injured man winced as the pain grew increasingly unbearable, but he refused to stop fighting. The moment he ceased firing, they would attack Sumin and more than likely kill her.

No…

Seokjin would never allow that to happen…

Not as long as his heart continued beating…

Exhausting his last amount of strength, Seokjin suddenly stopped firing and rammed the end of his semi-automatic rifle into one of the zombies before shooting a few bullets into its decaying body. As the adrenaline-fueled protector readied to fight off more zombies, he failed to realize that he had a few rushing at him from his flank. As their growls grew close, Seokjin knew it was too late to fire a few rounds at them while five more zombies ran at him from the front.

No matter which direction he focused on, those undead bastards would aggressively claw at him before devouring his juicy flesh. However, he couldn’t let that thought deter him from his personal objective; his mission of getting Sumin to the Fireflies, so those groups of doctors could create a cure that would one day restore humanity on this lonely planet.

That’s why he had to keep fighting….

Breathing deeply, Seokjin readied his weapon, releasing bullet after bullet at the horde in front of him, ignoring the ones that rushed at him from behind.

But he also neglected his ride-or-die partner…

A loud grunt entered one ear and exited through the other, followed by the sound of a sharp object impaling one flesh after the other before bodies dropped right behind the handsome man. Their decaying, decapitated heads rolled towards the assailant’s feet before the person kicked to the side like a soccer ball.

Seokjin faintly scoffed as he glanced behind his shoulder and whispered, “And I thought it was my job to save you, p-princess…” as the last bar of his energy finally depleted. His face paled from the amount of blood that slowly drained from his arm. His eyes shuttered close as Seokjin gave in to the exhaustion that plagued him. His legs wobbled as his knees buckled in, ready for his entire body to collapse onto the pavement.

Yep…Seokjin depleted all of his energy…

However, as he was seconds away from dropping to the floor, Sumin quickly sheathed her Katana and grabbed Seokjin before he could. She then wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders as she hoisted Seokjin and supported his weight with all the strength she mustered minutes before.

“C-come on, Jinnie…” A few grunts left her lips, “You c-can’t give up on me just yet.” Sumin’s voice quavered as she struggled to reach for Seokjin’s assault rifle. Her fingertips grazed the strap a few times before she successfully wrapped them around the leather material and hung it around her boyfriend’s neck. Of course, she switched the rifle’s safety on before doing that. Insult to injury would be that she caused the death of her boyfriend.

“Alright…” She softly began as she surveyed her surroundings, hearing loud shrieks in the distance. Terror settled in her face, but Sumin didn’t allow it to show. No. The second she let the fear win, it was game over for her and Seokjin.

And Sumin would never allow that to occur, so she had to think of a place for them to hide.

Her mind went into overdrive as she thought of all the possible places for them to wait for the horde to lose interest in them quietly. The site also had to provide them enough cover that could not only disguise their scent but ward off the stench of blood as she patched Seokjin’s deep wound.

Sumin’s concerned gaze glanced at her boyfriend’s limp and severely injured arm as streams of blood stained his scarred hand.

Quickly shaking her head, the worried girlfriend forcibly pushed away any possible worst-case scenarios as it would neither help her or Seokjin in their current situation.

Suddenly, another thunderous, bone-chilling scream echoed in the eerie atmosphere, and this time it sounded nearby.

“Shit…!” She cursed through clenched teeth as she readjusted Seokjin’s weight against hers. “Okay, do you remember where the Hall of Mirrors was at?” She asked, guiding them away from the pile of lifeless zombies.

Seokjin groaned a few times. His eyes fought to stay open, but he found it difficult to do so. Shit, he barely registered Sumin’s question. That was how drained he was.

Sumin’s brows furrowed as wrinkles formed on her forehead. Her heart tightened from Seokjin’s lack of response.

“You know what, it’s okay, Jinnie,” Sumin forced an affectionate yet tired smile, “I think I remember where it was at,” She said, hunching her body as Seokjin’s weight slowly collapsed on top of her tired body. Still, she exerted enough of her depleting energy to keep them standing.

“Alright, let’s go.” She whispered, hobbling the two of them over to the entrance of the Hall of Mirrors. She kept her right arm anchored on Seokjin’s waist. At the same time, her left hand interlocked with his as she practically dragged them towards the entryway.

In between her grunts, she suddenly heard Seokjin let out this light chuckle. Sumin couldn’t help but giggle as her boyfriend’s delirious expression was priceless; though, she shouldn’t find his dying state hilarious. She believed the dehydration slowly crept on her emotional state and took a mental note to take a few big gulps from her canister. Just one of the many containers filled with water that Sumin and Seokjin filtered by boiling out the impurities from a river they stumbled upon a few weeks back.

But before she could dive into the hilarious memory associated with that river, a string of slurred words entered her ears followed with pain-induced groans.

Sumin forced air through her nose, “Seokjin, save what little strength you have. Okay?” She kindly suggested, though, it sounded more of a demand.

“B-But…princess…” Seokjin winced as his eyes opened slightly, “We can f-finally settle o-our bet once and f-for all.” He finished, stumbling over some words.

Sumin briefly halted their steps but swiftly resumed as they couldn’t afford to stop with a pack of starving zombies on their trails.

With a raised brow, Sumin asked what he meant by his rather vague statement as she and Seokjin finally passed through the entryway to the Hall of Mirrors. Correction. The place was now a dark, spacious area surrounded by broken mirrors and cracked glass decorated the pathway.

“I mean, S-Sumin…” He coughed twice, causing the tired girl to become alarmed and even more concerned for Seokjin’s wellbeing, “Don’t you r-remember on our fourth a-anniversary that y-you a-and I made a bet—” Seokjin let out a loud cry as Sumin accidentally bumped his injured arm against the wall as her body finally gave up on her. The two of them collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily.

“Sorry, Seokjin.” The exhausted young lady mumbled as she took a minute to catch her breath before moving his body to a more comfortable position.

Seokjin made a face before continuing where he left off.

“As I w-was saying before you c-carelessly d-dropped me,” Sumin shot him an icy glare, resulting with him swiftly apologizing before resuming, “Anyway, you a-and I made a b-bet on our f-fourth a-anniversary because neither one of us h-had y-yet to come inside here,” Seokjin repeated, hoping that something – anything – triggered Sumin to have this lightbulb moment.

Then, like clockwork, she did.

“Oh, my God…” She trailed on as she took off her jacket and tied her hair up in a pony-tail, “Are you talking about that stupid bet that you created because you were too much of a chicken to go in this place by yourself?” She questioned, emphasizing a specific word.

Seokjin gawked but let out a few more coughs, “That b-bet isn’t stupid!” He declared, wincing loudly as Sumin carefully removed the torn leather jacket sleeve from his arm. The fabric lightly grazed his gaping wound, creating an endless wave of this unbearable stinging sensation.

Sumin smiled wanly as she gently held his injured arm, assessing the severity of the wound.

“I know you’re in pain, Jinnie, but the bet was stupid, and I’ll tell you why.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone, not realizing that Seokjin closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that slowly swamped his mind. Sumin didn’t notice this yet, but Seokjin sadly began reacting to the virus that caused this damn outbreak in the first place.

Minutes rolled by and still no snippy remark from Seokjin. Panic settled in Sumin as she immediately shifted her focus on him. She gently cupped his marked-up cheek; her eyes dripped with fear.

“Jinnie?” She lightly tapped his face while the anxiety settled within her chest, “You gotta stay away, okay? Just stay awake for me. P-please…” She desperately begged as tears formed in the brim of her eyes. “After all, you have to travel down memory lane with me on how that stupid bet came to be…” She stated in a soft-spoken voice as she applied pressure to his wound, refusing to give up on him.

Sumin’s eyes fluttered close, slowly breathing out of her nostrils. Her mind wandered off, transporting her back to that fun evening.

Harden stares. Smug smiles. Two people proudly stood in front of each other, hiding one of their hands behind their backs. The unusual duo anchored their bodies in front of the infamous entryway to the Hall of Mirrors, calculating the other person’s next move in their fun game of rock-paper-scissors. Rumors surrounded the infamous carnival attraction as legends said that a couple of fair-goers had unexpectedly grown ill and currently fought for their lives in the downtown hospital. Knowing that only enticed every single customer to want to brave it out and check out the attraction for themselves.

But not for Seokjin and Sumin. Nuh-uh. This quirky couple would rather look like complete fools in front of the infamous fair attraction than go inside.

And this all started because Seokjin stubbornly refused to go inside the Hall of Mirrors by himself.

Naturally, Sumin called him a coward; thus, it led them to their current predicament.

With an arrogant smile painted on her beautiful face, Sumin’s stare narrowed as if she had telepathic abilities, allowing her to read Seokjin’s next move.

“Stare at me all you want, princess, but you will never defeat the rock-paper-scissors champion!” taunted Seokjin with an equally cocky smirk plastered on his gorgeous face.

Sumin snorted; her eyes briefly flickered to the side.

“You and I both know that there’s no such thing as a champion of rock-paper-scissors. You giant doofus!” She quipped in a high-pitched voice, earning her a few odd glances from a few bystanders.

Yeah. That reaction resulted in Sumin’s boyfriend doing his infamous windshield wiper laugh, causing a couple of people to stop in their tracks with a confused expression.

The embarrassed college student hung her head low. Her cheeks heated from unwanted attention.

Shyly, Sumin lifted her head, uttering a few apologies to the strangers before shooting Seokjin a cold stare as he continued cackling for a good three minutes.

The agitated brunette blew air upward from her mouth before stalking up to her hysterical boyfriend and punched him in his bicep.

Seokjin yelped but showed no sign of his laughter ceasing any time soon, which further annoyed Sumin.

Finally fed up with her cackling boyfriend, Sumin shouted, “Enough! I’ll go inside the stupid hall of mirrors with you!” She walked towards the carnival worker, dragging Seokjin by his wrist while his laughter slowly faded away. He quickly wiped away the tears that formed because he laughed so hard that his stomach ached.

Ah, he hadn’t a good laugh like that since Namjoon broke their Chemistry professor’s beaker and set off the smoke alarms in the classroom.

Good times right there…

Softly shaking his head, Seokjin handed the worker two entry tickets. Then the employee granted them entrance into the Hall of Mirrors.

Gradually, the couple walked further into the hallway. The light from the sunset faded in the background as the young pair went deeper into the creepy attraction.

Without a second thought, Sumin wrapped her arms around Seokjin’s forearm and clung to her protector. The frightened girl shuffled alongside her boyfriend, disregarding the fact that she could’ve easily tripped him. Her heart pounded against her chest as she caught glimpses of her funny reflections in the mirrors.

Tiny whines left Sumin’s lips as she cutely stomped her feet because Seokjin wanted to admire his humorous reflection.

His action shocked her tremendously since it was Seokjin’s idea in the fucking first place that they played rock-paper-scissors to see if Sumin accompanied him or not inside this terrifying place. Now, she started believing that the attractive idiot she called a boyfriend hustled her.

If that were the case, then what she was about to do next, she wouldn’t feel guilty whatsoever.

With both a devious smirk and gleam on her innocent face, Sumin turned her attention towards Seokjin, slightly tilting her head.

“Hey, Jinnie…”

“What’s up?”

“Wanna make a bet, especially since it’s our fourth anniversary together?”

Seokjin blinked a few times. His lips thinned as this uneasy silence covered them like a warm blanket on a Winter’s night.

His stare darted between Sumin’s innocent face and the random stranger squeezed by them.

The confused man opened his mouth but soon closed it as the longer he stared at his girlfriend’s doe-like eyes, the more he realized that there was a trap waiting for him.

With knitted brows and taking a step backward, Seokjin hesitantly took the bait and asked what kind of bet Sumin talked about.

“Simple, Seokjin,” She gestured to their rather cramped surroundings, “Since you and I both do not want to be in here any longer than we have to,” She then pointed towards the direction in front of them, “And judging from the bone-chilling screams that echo every five seconds, it seems that this place is only going to become even scarier.” She explained, though, not really getting her point across.

However, that was the beauty of their relationship. Seokjin always understood what went on in Sumin’s beautiful yet devious brain.

And sadly, for him, this was a bet that would result in his loss…

Looking briefly displeased, Seokjin sighed heavily before interlacing their fingers together and continuing their journey inside the spooky attraction.

“So…what happens if you lose the bet?”

“Me? Ha. That’s comical, Jinnie. Tell me. Who’s the braver one between us two?”

“Well, that depends princess on what we’re doing, you big goof.”

Sumin scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You just don’t wanna admit that I’m braver than you.”

Now, it was Seokjin’s turn to scoff.

“Uh-huh. Let’s see if you keep that mindset once we near the end of this hallway since I believe that is when we heard the most terrifying induced shrieks.”

“You’re on!”

And true to his words…Sumin freaked out first and punched one of the costumed workers in the stomach.

Yeah…

Safe to say that the carnival manager banned the couple from entering the Hall of Mirrors ever again.

Well, at least there was a positive aspect of this epidemic…

Seokjin and Sumin were allowed inside the attraction; though, the concerned woman wished it were under better circumstances…

A defeated expression washed over Sumin’s face. Yet, the anxious but determined young woman refused to allow Seokjin to succumb to the deadly virus. A few sniffles echoed slightly as Sumin maintained pressure on the wound, allowing the disinfectant to have some sort of effect on the injury.

“Come on…” The distressed girl repeatedly uttered as tears cascaded down her dirty and bloodied cheeks. Out of anger, Sumin threw the blood-soaked gauze and hurriedly applied another, cleaning and dressing the gash some more. The upset girl’s tears landed on Seokjin’s arm, unknowingly stirring the man from his pain-induced slumber.

A couple of faint groans escaped his precious lips as Seokjin’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He slowly turned his head; his gaze landed on Sumin’s.

A small smile displayed on the handsome man’s face before he started to reach out to Sumin with his injured room, stubbornly ignoring the severe shooting pains that surged through his veins.

“…n-now…why is m-my princess crying…?” whispered Seokjin as his bloodied hand cupped Sumin’s soft cheek, “Beautiful w-women shouldn’t s-shed any t-tears…” He added, successfully causing his concerned girlfriend to chuckle.

Sumin leaned into his warm touch, maintaining her solemn smile, before grasping his hand with hers.

“G-gross Jinnie…” She teased, forcing herself to make light of the situation for not only her sake but Seokjin’s as well, “I don’t want you touching me with your bloody fingers.” She added, removing her hands from his bloody one as she resumed tending to his wound. Using her jacket sleeve, the brunette carefully wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. The last thing she needed was her purposely causing more minuscule pain to Seokjin.

Seokjin tried laughing, but they soon turned into small coughing fits. The injured man rolled his eyes; though, he maintained his tiny, playful smile.

“Well, I’m s-sorry that I c-couldn’t w-wash my hands before doing t-this—” Seokjin suddenly yelped as he felt this unbearable pain shoot up his arm once again. Then, he felt a cooling sensation that followed shortly. Wondering what it was, Seokjin’s gaze followed Sumin’s arms and then noticed yet another gauze slowly soak up his tainted blood. Not even a minute later, that excruciating ache returned.

“Ouch woman!! Be a little gentler next time!!” cried the injured man, shooting glares at his girlfriend.

Sumin gawked, “You know what…I take my tears back now,” Her face became emotionless, “Since you’ll be fine now seeing as that you finally stopped stuttering caused by that excruciating pain you were in earlier.” She said blankly, blinking a few times before turning her back towards him to put away their shared medical supplies.

Tiny chuckles escaped Seokjin’s chest as he slowly sat up, examining his bandaged-up arm. He stared at his wound as curiosity slowly washed over him. His eyes trailed over to Sumin and instantly noticed that her left hand dawned a bandage. Then, it occurred to him. She must’ve fused her blood with the disinfectant and made a quick cure for his wound before the virus had a chance to completely take over.

With the corners of his mouth turning upwards, Seokjin shuffled his way over to Sumin and warmly placed a hand on her head. Love glowed in his eyes as he stared affectionately at her backside.

“Well, it’s thanks to you that I’ll be fine,” but not even a second after saying that, he winced; his hand rested on the side of his torso. “Damn, did those undead bastards get me somewhere else too?” He bitterly thought but was soon thankful that he didn’t feel any fresh blood on his fingers. However, he didn’t want to alarm Sumin yet again. He saw how anxious she became when those zombies severely injured his arm. Seokjin couldn’t put her through that heartache for a second time.

Through gritted teeth, the stubborn fool repeated that he’d be okay and that he could never die.

“As long as I’m breathing and standing before you, I will always protect you,” He pressed his plump lips to Sumin’s temple, “Again, nothing and no one can kill me.” He declared; his eyes burned with determination as if he made another sacred pact to himself.

A faint scoff escapes her lips, unbothered to show her face to him.

“What if someone is successful and does kill you? Then, what, Jinnie?” She asked; her breath hitched for a split second. “I-I can’t afford to lose you…” She added, muttering as her voice softly broke in the beginning. Then, Sumin closed her eyes, slowly exhaling through her nose as she desperately tried taming the anxiety that gradually swallowed her body. The thought of losing Seokjin always triggered it for her. There were days where she wished that she were this emotionless, ruthless killing machine immune to emotions such as love, but that wasn’t the case.

It was thanks to those beautiful emotions that Sumin was herself. If she was this robot, then she wouldn’t have met Seokjin.

And with that final thought, the uneasy young woman turned towards her boyfriend, facing him with a brave expression as Sumin swung her backpack around her shoulders and tightened the straps.

“And that is why I will not stop at nothing until I find that safe haven.” She declared suddenly yet firmly; her eyes sparked with this undying resolve for her personal mission. “You hear me, Jinnie? I will find us that secure place. I s-swear to you.” She finished, letting out a few sniffles as her eyes became glossy.

Seokjin remained speechless, unsure of how to answer Sumin’s question. He was also taken back from Sumin’s sudden declaration; however, his mind soon drifted back to her earlier question.

Truth be told, he never thought about his death since that was something, he couldn’t afford to even imagine it.

No.

The moment he thought about someone killing him, it would be game over. His body would succumb to the fear that Seokjin channeled countlessly into courage. He needed to be strong for him and Sumin.

He just had to…

Tapping his chin, Seokjin hummed in response before wrapping a warm around Sumin’s shoulders, pulling towards him. His chin now rested nicely on top of her head while his courageous girlfriend finally broke down and sobbed in his chest, dampening his shirt. She could only hold that brave face for so long.

“Aw, Minnie…” He cooed, softly rubbing her back and sweetly kissing her head, “You don’t have to worry about keeping me safe, and do you want to know why?” He asked softly; his eyes blazed with absolute devotion and admiration.

Sumin nodded her head but remained glued in his broad chest as more tiny sniffles escaped her precious lips.

Seokjin couldn’t help but chuckle in response, finding his girlfriend extremely cute at that moment.

“Well, the reason why you don’t have to worry about keeping me safe is that I’m already safe, princess.”

“Huh? How’s that possible, Seokjin?”

Then, he grinned widely before answering,

“Because I’m always safe whenever I’m with you, sweetheart.” He happily stated, earning himself a light shove and angry stare from Sumin. “Ah, that tiny push was worth it since you’re no longer upset and shedding your beautiful tears when they aren’t necessary.” He added, smiling brightly. His smile was so vast that his cheekbones practically touched his eyes, causing them to disappear.

Sumin made a face, “Unbelievable…” She trailed on, walking away from him, “After all these years, you still manage to become cheesier than your last attempt!” She shouted over her shoulder, wearing this amused yet teasing smirk on her face.

Seokjin shook his head, forever enjoying their endless game of cat and mouse.

“I swear, I must be a masochist…” He humorously thought before chasing after his woman.

Inch by inch, Sumin peeked her head out; her gaze flickered toward every single direction, making sure the close was clear before leaving their hiding spot.

Seokjin’s breath fanned the back of her neck, creating goosebumps to appear. Tiny giggles emitted from her lips as Sumin hunched her shoulders, hoping that it would stop the rather affectionate man that she called her boyfriend.

However, it did not. If anything, the lovesick fool saw his girlfriend’s protests as a challenge. A challenge that he’d surely win.

Without a second thought, Seokjin wrapped a protective arm around Sumin’s shoulders, pressing his chest against her back. Then, he slowly lowered his head; his plump lips hovered over her ear.

“So…is the close clear?” He whispered; his hot, breathy tone caused the poor girl to become flustered as a small, yet enticing moan escaped her innocent lips.

Then, seconds later, a loud smack echoed throughout the dark, empty halls of the destroyed carnival attraction.

Seokjin grunted, rubbing the area where his girlfriend smacked him.

“Did you really have to go for my chest? You know how sensitive I am in that area.” He whined, pouting cutely as he continued rubbing his injured chest.

Sumin scoffed, ignoring his rather cute complaints, “Obviously. Why else would I slap you in your most sensitive spot beside your humongous ego.”

“Ego? That’s a weird name to call my—”

“Finish that sentence and no sex once we find the safe haven.”

Seokjin flinched. His face tensed from the mere thought of not being intimate with his girlfriend. Then, he hung his head low, “I’ll behave, princess.”

The triumphant young lady uttered a quick, “good,” before placing an innocent peck on his scratched-up cheek. She then gestured towards the exit, announcing to him that it was safe to run towards the fence that faced the abandoned, ruined mall. During the couple’s attempt at escaping the hungry horde, Sumin noticed a destroyed wall in front of the mall that she and Seokjin frequented for many years.

“You ready? Do you have enough energy to dash towards that gate?”

“I think I can manage, sweetheart.”

Tightening the strap that held her sword in place, Sumin slowly inhaled then released the pent-up stress and other frustration through her nostrils.

With a look of determination on Sumin’s smudged up face, the fearless woman charged out of the entrance; her gun fired round after round, emptying the clip before she quickly inserted another ammo clip. She briefly took note of how many clips she remained before she completely ran out.

Running behind her, with an infinite release of ammo from Seokjin’s semi-automatic, the protective yet still injured man guarded his girlfriend, protecting her like a royal knight for his princess as he safeguarded her from any harm. He shot down any undead bodies that rushed at Sumin, finding it a bit therapeutic as killing those zombies was another form of revenge for him.

Funny, huh?

Gradually, the abandoned mall became large as it appeared in the running couple’s sights. Their hearts drummed against their chest as they felt the adrenaline deplete from their bodies, but they couldn’t give up. Not just yet. They needed to find a safe haven and restore humanity to this rotting planet.

They just had too…

Skidding towards the open gate, Sumin held it up, widening the gap so Seokjin could fit in the hole. She breathed heavily while her eyes homed in the rushing horde that slowly closed the distance between them. With her free hand, she aimed her gun at the dead crowded, firing a few times. The frightened girl landed head-shots and permanently killed them.

“Come on, Sumin!” hollered Seokjin as this wave of anxiety washed over him as well. Being on the other side of the fence did not sit well with him whatsoever—scratch that. Not standing right beside Sumin did not sit well with him at all.

Just as the worried man readied his weapon, Sumin scrambled through the hole, earning herself a small cut on the back of her hand.

Seokjin instantly noticed, grabbing her uninjured hand, and pulled her towards the ruined building. The exhausted boy tapped into any reserve energy he stored. At the same time, Sumin addressed his wounds earlier as they continued their mad dash for the broken mall building.

With the entrance doors in sight, Seokjin practically shoved Sumin inside before following after. He swiftly scanned his surroundings, looking for anything that could be used as a barricade. Seconds later, his eyes focused on a pile of pipes.

“That should work…” He frantically thought as he grabbed a couple and stuck in between handles. For added measure, he rolled over some of the fallen metal trash bins, completely ignoring the surging pain in his right arm. Even though Sumin wiped away the virus from Seokjin’s body, his gash still remained and gradually reopened.

A few winces escaped his plump lips, instantly alerting Sumin. She tucked her pistol in its holster before helping him push the trash bins.

Playfully shaking her head, Sumin gave him a look, teasing him in the process.

Seokjin rolled his eyes, scoffing before flashing her a boyish grin.

“You know I could’ve rolled that by myself.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Sumin pointed at his injured arm, “And that’s why your wound reopened, doofus.” She stated before maneuvering the metal bin in front of the door, securing its position.

Seokjin jokingly mocked her as he felt a slight tug on his wrist. He obediently followed Sumin, sitting down when instructed to. His eyes trailed up, noting how breathtaking his princess was despite the many cuts, bruises, and dried up blood that decorated her face. Soon, the corners of his mouth curved upwards as he continued watching Sumin redo his bandages. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he felt like he transported back to the day he first fell in love with her.

And it all because of the angelic smile that graced her beautiful face…

“Okay, all done.” Announced Sumin, tightening the knot on the bandage. “Next time you reopen up your gash, I’m gonna let it get it infected.” She warned with an overly sweet tone before placing an innocent kiss on his cheek.

Seokjin chuckled, jokingly saluting his woman before standing up. He grabbed his weapon and flung the strap around his shoulder, allowing it to lazily hang beside him as he and Sumin journeyed deeper inside the empty mall.

Walking past broken glass displays, where only a few shards remained hanging on the wall, Sumin mumbled the name of each storefront. Suddenly, she halted, tugging on Seokjin’s jacket sleeve.

Seokjin peered down, asking her if she was okay, and why they stopped in their tracks.

Without saying a word, Sumin simply pointed at the storefront. The concerned young man followed her finger and soon gasped.

“Is that—”

“Yup.”

Sumin took a step forward, walking towards the broken counter. She observed the discarded plastic cups and open cash registers. She clicked her tongue, devastated seeing one of their favorite food places utterly destroyed. She turned her head but quickly looked away after seeing the bloody hand prints that decorated the door that led to the kitchen.

The bottom of her lip disappeared as Sumin closed her tear pooled eyes. A few drops trickled down her cheeks, alerting Seokjin. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before pulling her body towards his. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek against her head as he whispered loving words, hoping to soothe away her sadness.

“It’s just not fair, Jinnie.”

“I know, princess, but at least we have each other.”

Sumin sniffled before mumbling, “Kind of like how Hoseok had Lainey?”

Jinnie chuckled at her sudden lighthearted comment as he pulled away from his now smiling girlfriend.

“No. I think you’re thinking of Renae, sweetheart.” He corrected. Though he secretly could be wrong as he too couldn’t remember which girl, he and Sumin successfully paired Hoseok up with for his third blind date.

Quickly wiping away any remaining tears, Sumin cleared her throat a few times before speaking,

“I don’t think so, Jinnie. It could be this one girl. Oh, what’s her name…?” She trailed on, snapping her fingers in hopes that it’d help her remember. Then, it finally clicked. “Ah! Bunny, I believe, was her nickname!”

Seokjin shook his head briefly humming before correcting Sumin yet again.

“Nope. Wrong again, princess. She ended up with Jungkook, remember?”

Sumin lips fell slightly open, silently berating herself for having the worst memory. Granted, she and Seokjin busied themselves with saving the human race and fighting off countless undead hordes, so that played into her favor.

With her brows knitted together and her lips thinned, Sumin thought long and hard on who the fuck ended up being Hoseok’s girlfriend. Alys? No, she remembered that she wound up with Namjoon. Kenzie? That was also another no since she ended up with Jimin—or was it her good friend Lindy? Oh, my God. Sumin drew a fucking blank on the name as she swiftly ruled out another friend of hers, Bean, who ended up being Yoongi’s adorable girlfriend.

“Fuck!” She mentally cursed as she gnawed on her bottom lip, desperate to figure out who ended up with Hoseok.

Seokjin, on the other hand, laughed at how serious yet adorable Sumin looked. He found it especially cute when her cheeks puffed out as the frustration slowly washed over her face.

Should he be a good boyfriend and help her? The amused young man quickly weighed his options, finding both the pros and cons to helping Sumin out but decided to assist his poor, agitated girlfriend.

“It’s Nina.”

“Nina? Oh! Nina! I’m a dummy. I can’t believe I forgot her.”

Seokjin gave a lop-sided grin as he wrapped a loving yet protective arm around Sumin and repeated, “It’s okay,” and “I still love you, stupidity and all.” He then guided her away from the ruined food court and resumed their journey inside the mall.

Laughter echoed throughout the three abandoned floors of the humongous building. For that brief moment, Sumin and Seokjin were simply two lovebirds on a simple date.

The loving couple recollected all the times they ended up at the mall after an extravagant dinner. Seokjin gently caressed the back of Sumin’s date, releasing a chuckle or two as she recalled the time Jungkook stole a black leather jacket.

“I’m still trying to figure out why he thought it was wise to steal the mannequin as well.” Sumin laughed, smiling brightly as she oddly felt relaxed.

Seokjin shrugged, “I have no clue, but with Jungkook, I never do. That boy has always been a strange one.” Suddenly, sadness clouded his handsome features, halting his steps, the more he thought about Jungkook and the rest of his close friends. He had yet to receive any news on their whereabouts. The last time he heard anything was 7 years ago.

7…long…years…

Before he could dwell on his friend’s untimely demise, he felt a warm hand cup his dirty cheek. His solemn gaze trailed down and met Sumin’s loving and comforting stare.

“Hey. Think positive, Seokjin.”

“How can I? For all I know, they could be long dead, and I wasn’t there for them, like the older brother I was supposed to be for them.”

Sumin sighed but quickly validated his feelings. Shit. She felt the same way about her close friends and family, and she allowed the guilt to eat away at her conscience. However, it wasn’t until the 3rd year of this pandemic that she turned the blame into resolve and swore that she would avenge everyone she loved.

Softly rubbing Seokjin’s marked up cheek, Sumin plastered a sweet smile and said,

“Once we find that safe haven, we will go look for your friends, okay? I mean, they have Namjoon and Yoongi with them, so the rest of them can’t be dead. Alright?”

The distraught boy nodded his head as the corner of Seokjin’s mouth twitched.

His princess always knew what to say, especially to light a fire underneath his depressed ass.

He sweetly pressed his lips against her forehead and muttered a quick, “thanks,” before taking her hand once more and resumed their exploration.

The completely smitten couple journeyed to the third floor, both of them finding it humorous that they actually walked up the broken escalators. Years ago, when it worked properly, the duo always rode it up to their designated floor. Even when it became evident that walking up the escalators were so much faster. However, they didn’t care.

They were proud to be called the “lazy” couple within their group of friends. Shoot. Sumin secretly found it amusing that they were dubbed that since she and Seokjin studied medicine before this horrific pandemic began.

Funny how everything turned out for the two of them. Seokjin became her protector, and she carried the cure that could potentially reverse humanity back to its original state.

Jogging away from Seokjin with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Sumin peered behind her shoulder, enticing her boyfriend to chase her. Soft laughs escaped her sweet lips as she picked up the pace, wanting to increase the distance between their bodies.

“Be careful, princess!” advised Seokjin, feeling the anxiety slowly settle within the pit of his stomach. His worried gaze remained on Sumin’s retreating backside as the gap grew wider with each passing second.

Out of frustration, the concerned fellow ruffled his hair before running after his woman. Within minutes, Seokjin closed the gap between them and protectively wrapped his arms around Sumin’s torso as he shouted,

“Gotcha!”

Sumin laughed, smiling radiantly as her boyfriend peppered her face with soft kisses and whispers of adoration.

“You know that I love you to the sun and back, Sumin. Right?”

“Of course, Jinnie,” She turned her body, though, she was careful to not whack him with the hilt of her Katana, “And you know that I love you to the moon and back. Right?” She said sweetly and softly.

Seokjin hummed in response as his brows furrowed together.

Sumin gawked, lightly slapping his chest, and pulling away from him.

“I’m kidding, princess! Please come back! I need you in my arms, or else I’ll die.”

“Oh, my goodness. You’re such a drama king, Jinnie.”

“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point! Please give me a hug?”

Now, it was Sumin’s turn to playfully think about it. Then, not even a minute later, the stubborn young lady simply shrugged and walked up to her pouty boyfriend. She cupped the back of his neck, locking her fingers into place, and gently pulled Seokjin’s face towards hers. Their noses lightly bumped into each other as their dirt-stained foreheads pressed against one another.

The two of them, dawning warm smiles, remained lost in each other’s gaze for what seemed like forever until something captured Seokjin’s attention.

“Is that one of those luxurious contest cars?”

Sumin perked up her brow as she peered behind her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she untangled herself from Seokjin and ran up to the car, much to his dismay.

Curiosity got the best of her as her calloused fingers traced the cold metal of the car. She couldn’t help but admire how beautiful the car still looked despite its surroundings destroyed.

Well, until she heard a loud smash, causing the poor, unknowing girl to flinch as Seokjin swung his assault rifle back to its original position, blissfully unaware of Sumin’s death glare. He then carefully reached through the broken window and tried to feel for the door lock. His fingertips grazed the car door handle a few times before finally latching over the lock. Seokjin pulled it towards him, the two of them heard a click before swinging it open.

Like the gentleman he was, the attractive young man gestured towards the door, politely bowing his head at Sumin.

“Your chariot, my lady.” Joked Seokjin in a poorly imitated British accent.

Sumin chuckled lightly as she shook her head, brushing her shoulder against his.

“Why, thank you, my good sir.” She played along before removing her Katana from her back, making it easier for her to maneuver inside the vehicle.

Using the sleeve of her leather jacket, Sumin carefully brushed off the broken window shards from the car seat.

“You know, I’m thankful that the car battery died because you would’ve definitely attracted a crowd of zombies to us, you impatient dork.” She quipped, shimming her way towards the backseat. The exhausted lady let out a massive sigh of relief as she rested her head against the leather seats. Through a tired, cloudy gaze, Sumin squinted at the door and then realized something.

“Hey, Jinnie.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re a jerk for having me shimmy my way towards the backseat,” She then reached over the backdoor and unlocked it, “When you could’ve just reached even further and unlocked this door as well.” She finished, opening it up and flashing him a knowing smile.

Seokjin rolled his eyes as he teasingly closed the door on her before finally entering the car. He quickly placed his gun on the passenger seat and then put both hands on the steering wheel.

With a boyish grin written on his face, Seokjin glanced over his shoulder and asked,

“Where to, princess Sumin?”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned in her seat and poked her head between the two front chairs. With an alluring smile painted on her lips, Sumin hovered her mouth over his ears and whispered sweetly,

“To the stars…” Before grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards the back of the seat. Though, it was a bit difficult at first given how bulkier and taller he was than her.

A faint grunt exited his lips as Seokjin found himself plopped next to the love of his life. His eyes bore into hers as he couldn’t help but admire how breathtaking she was despite going through hell and back.

Without a single thought in his head, the utterly smitten young man cupped his girlfriend’s stained cheek, gently caressing it. Then, slowly, the two of them inched their faces closer. Their eyes flickered from each other’s loving gaze to their lips before the gap finally closed.

A gentle moan escaped Sumin’s lips as she entangled her fingers in Seokjin’s hair. She slowly massaged his scalp, resulting in a low moan from Seokjin as he anchored one hand against the door-frame and the other against Sumin’s hip. He slowly lowered her body onto the seat, careful not to accidentally bump her head against anything.

“I love you, Kim Seokjin,” Sumin whispered, briefly breaking their passionate kiss.

Seokjin, slightly panting, simply smiled before capturing her precious lips once more. He poured all the love he bore for the woman underneath him and hoped that she knew how much he loved her.

For that single moment, Seokjin knew that actions spoke louder than words. Releasing her addicting lips, he trailed fiery kisses down the side of her face all the way to the base of her neck. His teeth lightly grazed her soft skin, causing a few moans to leave Sumin’s mouth, further igniting Seokjin’s hormones.

His hands buried itself underneath her shirt, the warmth of her skin contrasted the coolness from his hands. Seokjin’s fingers lightly trailed upwards, and just as his calloused fingers grazed the fabric of her bra, they heard a loud, terrifying shriek.

The couple instantly broke apart, fixing up their disheveled appearance as Seokjin promptly peeked through the window. Now on full alert, he hurriedly scanned the area; his ears picked up even the tiniest of sounds. Then, the thunderous, horrific cry echoed throughout the mall once more.

Not wanting to chance it, Seokjin quickly instructed – well more like demanded – Sumin to run for cover while he provided covering fire.

Her mouth fell open while her eyes went round. Did Sumin hear him correctly? What Seokjin planned was a suicide mission as the hordes would easily overwhelm him. Still, deep down, Sumin knew that as she studied his overall body language. The frantic young girl vigorously shook her head, rejecting his idiotic idea with her entire body.

“Well, do you have a better idea, princess?” Seokjin asked, giving her a look.

“Yes, you run beside me, and we protect each other,” Sumin paused, cupping both sides of his face, “Like we did every single time we faced these undead bastards and will continue to do until it’s no longer necessary.” She finished in a courageous tone of voice.

Seokjin was rendered speechless but soon composed himself. Sumin was right because if he ended up dead, then who would protect her in his stead? No one worthy of her that was for sure. He needed to remain alive for her sake.

And she needed to remain alive for his sake…

Taking a long, deep breath, Seokjin’s eyes sparked with fearlessness as he stared at Sumin. He gently took her hand into his and quickly pressed a sweet kiss on the back of it.

“Okay, as soon as I open this door, you better be running right beside me. Got it?”

“I should be telling you that, Jinnie.”

Seokjin snorted, ignoring her comment as he pulled on the door-latch and opened the car door. He quickly grabbed his weapon from the passenger seat before diving out of the car. He readied his semi-automatic and peeked through the scope, looking for any scouts. Luckily, he saw none, but they needed to hurry and find cover. Then, his ears picked up a soft grunt followed by a string of swears.

With an amused grin, Seokjin glanced to his side, noticing Sumin rubbing her chin.

“Let me guess you hit yourself with that Katana.”

“Shut up and run.”

Sumin repositioned her sword and began running with her pistol out and ready to fire. Seokjin quickly followed behind, mimicking his sweetheart's every movement. This continued for a few more minutes until they found a suitable hideout and ducked behind the concrete wall. The two lovers seized that relaxing opportunity and calmed their irregular breathing. The last thing the two of them needed was to pass out while fighting a raging crowd of zombies.

Slowly, the loving couple inhaled the sweet oxygen through their nostrils and exhaled it through their mouths. With each breath they took, Seokjin and Sumin felt both their physical and mental strength restored.

They were ready to fight once more…

Slightly tilting his head, revealing this lazy smile, Seokjin gave Sumin a quick glance-over, making sure she didn’t have any secret injuries.

“So, are you ready for round 3?” He jokingly asked.

Sumin snorted, “Round 3? It’s more like round 5 at this point, Jinnie.”

This time it was Seokjin’s turn to let out a quick snort as he stood up with his assault rifle ready to fire at any given moment. The second he stood up, the blood-curdling shrieks grew near. Seokjin gave those undead gnats about ten seconds – give or take – before they swarmed their position.

“Careful, princess. People might think you’re talking about our sex life.” He joked, shamelessly winking at her as he pulled the trigger, firing a few rounds at the undead horde.

Sumin rolled her eyes as she unsheathed her Katana and shot up from her spot.

“What people?” She quickly gestured at the two of them and then at the never-ending onslaught of zombies that approached them, “In case you haven’t noticed, Jinnie, we’re the only ones here, so you have nothing to worry about.” She bluntly stated, completely missing Seokjin’s sarcasm, before impaling one zombie and decapitating the second one before raising her gun.

Sumin then cocked back her pistol and aimed it at the enemy, emptying the clip as she landed head-shot after head-shot. She hurriedly reached for another ammo clip and loaded it into the pistol.

Meanwhile, with Seokjin, the poor boy shook his head as he observed how frantic Sumin slowly became. He swiftly focused his weapon on her direction and fired at the zombies that threatened to swarm her.

“With you around, sweetheart, I will always worry.” He announced as he quickly fired at the zombies that rushed towards their direction. He then spun around and fired at his original path.

Sumin’s face reddened but soon composed herself, though her cheeks remained rosy.

She quickly cleared her throat before speaking,

“And to think, I thought you couldn’t get any cheesier.”

“Only for you and always for you…”

116 notes · View notes

gisachi · 4 years

Note

Aaah hi ! Can I please request 45 or 14 of the shinran prompt ? 💓

Hi, thanks for the request! 🧡 Sorry it took a while! Hoping you don’t mind that I combined your asks since I’ll be doing #45 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Admittedly, the only scenario I can think of for this prompt is another semi(?)-nsfw so I hope you’re ok with that! Again, it went longer than I expected, so it may sound a bit rushed at the end because I had to cut it short lmao, but I do hope you still enjoy reading!

45. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed. (1,878 words, slightly nsfw)

His girlfriend doesn’t wait for the hotel room door to close shut.

Using her weight to pin him to the cold, concrete wall, she drives her lips against his in what seems like the boldest, the roughest, the most brazen she’s ever done in her entire life.

She’s never one to initiate; it’s always him. So the moment this happens, he doesn’t push her away, and instead embraces her closer, surrendering himself to the thrill.

He feels her body rock against his, outlined by her gown— oh, that long, sexy red satin gown, elegantly tailored to a slim fit that it hugs every prominent curve of her body, neckline plunging so low it exposes a generous amount of her cleavage;

That gown poking the corner of his eyes as she sat beside him quietly the whole duration of the TMPD awarding ceremony, her noiseless presence a stark contrast to her breathtaking aura that screams ever so loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the grand ballroom, men and women, even those on distant tables;

That same gown that’s causing all his willpower to dissipate as he tried to display the straightest face he could ever make while he waited, impatiently, for his name to be announced just so they could get this over with, for deep down his animalistic tendencies thrive from the dangerous thought of slamming her down their table and stripping her bare... right then and there.

It’s funny, now that he thinks about it. The modesty they displayed in that event — how she respectfully thanked the courteous gentlemen assisting her there while he interacted with other fellow distinguished guests; how he politely shook hands with his women fans and willingly gave them his autographs and selfies as they exited the venue — all gone the moment they step in the hotel elevator, her arms loop around his firmly as if she’s honestly intending for her chest to choke his arms. The smile they’ve been projecting replaced by tightly shut, parched lips, curses restrained behind teeth, breathing warm and fervid, tension palpable…

It’s not just him. He feels it.

Inside the elevator where many people other than them gather, they mutually relish this energy.

This raw, titillating energy, swirling in the air between them, so apparent yet so undetected.

They reach their floor and they step out, and Shinichi knows. His plan of ending the night with a romantic champagne session with her on their balcony under the stars? Not gonna happen now. Something else will. Not in any way how he expects but perhaps... how he prefers.

Very much so.

He would’ve wanted to do this to her first, shove her against the wall and all, and though he's not complaining that it resulted the other way around, as to why she initiated this rash, unprecedented act, he wants to know.

“Ran…” he groans, nails digging into her hips while her lips assault his neck, leaving trails of red lipstick from the underside of his ear down his collarbone. “What’s... with you... tonight?”

“No,” her hands yank the collar of his fine black shirt underneath his elaborately masculine, padded coat, “what’s with you tonight, Shinichi?” She kisses him again, rougher and harder than before, and while he thoroughly enjoys her doing this, a clear answer is what he needs and this isn’t exactly it.

“Wha- uh, fuck,” he tries to speak coherently in between their kisses, but her hands quickly travelling down his chest to the front of his pants make it difficult to do so, “What did I, ah- do…?”

“You,” she breathes heavily, “in that suit,” he feels a hand unclasp the metal buckle of his belt, “in these slacks,” and watches her throw the belt in the open. “I’m quite... annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” He speaks in fragments, “Of who...” throwing his words in between their hungry kisses, “...of me?” She shakes her head.

“Mm, then who?”

She separates from his lips bitterly, looks at him with dark, impassioned eyes, so uncharacteristic of the gentle Ran he has ever known his whole life. Not that he’s complaining.

Did she drink? No. Was she in a bad mood prior to this? No.

Another possibility crosses his mind.

“...Of the fangirls?”

She sucks sharp breaths of air, face somewhat glowering.

Is she...jealous?

Ran grabs a fistful of his hair, pulls his head down to meet her stare.

“You can’t just put your arms around them for a selfie in that tux...” her eyes flicker to the lapels of his jacket and the half unbuttoned shirt, his lean, glorious chest beneath it teasing her, and further down, his black trousers, prim and ironed, now without the belt and now loose enough to shove a hand in...then back his eyes, unconsciously biting her lower lip in the process, “without letting me see you alone first.”

Oh. Scratch that.

Is she massively turned on by him in an all-black formal suit…

so much so that she wants him all to herself?

Yes.

Holy shit, yes.

He spots their reflection on the full-length mirror across them — his lips smeared with her cherry red lipstick, hair he’s gelled so carefully now a disheveled mess as her fingers wind roughly onto it. Her backless gown does his eyes favor, allowing him to freely marvel at the sharp curves of her shoulder blades, her lithe spine, her arched back, and all he can think about now is how much he wants to mark them later with his nails, with his teeth...

Lips pulling into a naughty smirk, he decides to up the heat by a notch.

“Yeah?” He squeezes her ass fondly, preventing himself from salivating like a wild beast as he sees from the reflection how soft and supple her cheeks are under his hands. “What about you then?”

Ran audibly gasps as his hand lowers to her thigh, lifting it a few inches so that it slips between the high slits of her gown. He makes just enough room between his legs to slide it in, pressing their lower bodies closer until she’s aware of the visible strain in his trousers.

“That dress,” he grunts, his other hand hiking to her waist, gripping her so possessively he might’ve bruised her, “is so perfect on you it frustrates me.”

His tongue languidly traces the inside of her lower lip before nibbling it so hard he tastes blood. She whimpers, so he soothes it with a soft lick and a gentle suck.

He’ll apologize to her after, not now when his carnal drive is at its strongest.

Parting her lips with his thumb, he sighs into her lungs.

“...mind me taking it off?”

She moans from his words alone.

Heart thundering to a frenzied rhythm, she pins him back to the wall and reclaims his lips, and he can only surmise that that’s her way of saying yes.

Yes. Take everything away.

Her fingers twine his hair, playing and swirling around it the same way her tongue does with his. Tilting his head, he indulges himself deep in her, reaching and tasting every corner of her, and he feels her throat vibrate from a soft groan that echoes so deliciously in his mouth. Without breaking the kiss, his other arm joins the other on her waist, coaxing her to step her feet back, to move, and she almost trips on her stilettos, which she finds no more need for as she awkwardly removes them one at a time, all while he guides her blindly to the inside portion of the hotel room.

She hits and bumps every wall as they sort their way through, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt so he turns them around, offering his back as the first line of defense against the unfamiliar setup of the room. Dragging her with him, they totter to the nearest flat surface he can sense, unmindful of the chairs and random furniture his legs inadvertently bump into as he moves. And when he does feel the edge of some kind of counter touch his lower back, he lifts her up and hoists her there, almost toppling over the complimentary drinks and champagne glasses placed above it.

They break off the kiss and stare each other down, outrageous heat in their expressions apparent. He takes this time to shrug off his expensive suit soiled with sweat and drops it to the floor, leaving him with his disheveled black button-downs, looking more informal now than it is formal. His arms cage her body to the minibar counter while her hands secure her weight, one overlapping his right hand and the other on his right shoulder. One leg wraps around his hip, making sure her dress doesn’t rip due to overstretching.

“You know, I…” he pants, voice low and husky, “I was so close to stabbing some colleagues in the eyes.”

“Really now?” she replies, thumb caressing the underside of his right hand, heel digging into his calves.

“Yeah...” his pupils wander to where the neckline of her gown dives, to the teasing slit that reveals her silky thigh. “No one else’s supposed to look at you like this,” he returns his gaze to her, and, like a cat cornering a mouse, hoods his eyes and licks his lips. “Only me.”

Ran’s heart rate skyrockets, chest feels like combusting as her boyfriend scans her entire being with pure, unadulterated lust. She tightens her leg around him before surging into his lips once more, and he moans, loud.

Loud, raspy. Guttural.

Hot.

If that doesn’t make her damp the first time, then she’ll just make him do it again.

Not a problem. They have the whole night.

She squirms her way out from where his hands trap her, descending the minibar. He honestly would’ve wanted her there longer but her comfort is more important. On tiptoes they twirl to the direction of the king-size bed, skipping over the lump of coat on the floor. Their lips mold hotly, all while he works his way out his shoes, kicking them somewhere far. Her dress is such a bother; it’s impossible not to step on its length while they get it on— all the more reason for him to make haste to the bed just so he can finally take that whole thing off of her body.

Only when the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed does she speak again.

“Shinichi...everything under this,” she flits down her gown, then back his face, her blue irises glinting like firelight, “is for your eyes only.”

In the middle of his high, Shinichi cannot help but soften his expression at his girlfriend’s honest-to-goodness statement.

She bites her lip, giggles. “So better promise me the same.”

“Of course.” He kisses her softly. “All you see in front of you,” he leans down, traces the shape of her collarbone with his lips, “are all yours.”

He cannot see her face but he’s sure of how red she’s gotten. Not sparing any more time, he lets their intermingled bodies collapse to the bed, he on top, she beautifully sprawled under.

“Now will you show me?” His right hand hikes the slit of her gown, going under it, “What’s for my eyes alone?”

#shinran #fanfic #kiss prompts #honestly wanting to make em do this all the way but #i decide not to so i’ll leave the rest to your imagination ahsksdhak!!#sorry for grammar lapses and typos!#for a moment i forgot how to write smut so a quarter of this is probably word vomit hadhksgs #but i just needed to do it bc #ShinRan making out in formal attire? 😩👌🏼#hope you like this!

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ayeforscotland · 4 years

Note

Oi mate its my birthday can yea do me a solid and for a gift just go aff on a topic you wannae talk about

Happy Birthday! You are opening up Pandora’s box a bit there.

Nostalgia in media, my changing view of economics, the Scottish cultural cringe, perfectionism, the concept of mindfulness, I’m just listing all of the half-written scripts I have for YouTube videos at this point.

Let’s take a stab at my changing view of economics because I’ve been doing a lot of research and haven’t met anyone I can word-vomit at for ages. The *great* news about this research though is that the reading and research I’ve been doing backs up my argument that an independent Scotland should have its own currency and central bank.

That’s right, my incredibly hilarious jokes about a Scottish central bank being my kink is only half a joke. And it directly challenges a narrative that everyone regardless of whether you’re left or right wing has been fed for decades now.

The majority of us have been led to believe that government spending is similar to a household income.

For example, if you earn £400 and spend £380 then you’ve got £20 to go into savings - you have a surplus. While if you earn £400 and spend £420 - you have a deficit. That’s bad - for a household.

But governments - particularly governments like the US and the UK - don’t operate within these household budgetary terms because they have one huge difference. They issue the currency of their respective countries as they both have central banks.

Politicians push the narrative that government spending is like a household budget because it resonates with voters. Right wing parties mention things like social security, NHS/Medicare spending while left wing parties mention things like military spending and taxes for the rich. - This is a difference in priority and the way each side justifies it either way is the concept of ‘balancing the books’.

For the record, I think taxing the rich is important for redistributing wealth and wealthier people tend to hoard money rather than spend it. However, the government does not pay for things through taxes. The government issues the currency.

Before people think I’m going off on a ‘Taxation is theft’ libertarianism angle then I’d like to remind them that I’m over the age of 14. Taxes are important for a variety of reasons that I don’t need to mention in this rambling because my lunch break is nearly over.

Because governments that issue their own currency don’t operate like a household - deficits at a certain level are actually a good thing. A government that issues it’s own currency creating £100 for the economy and taxing £80 has actually invested £20 for the rest of us. A government deficit becomes a people’s surplus.

This naturally has its limits like all things do. I’m not saying that the government can endlessly create money with no consequences - BUT when you issue your currency you will never need to worry about certain economic impacts.

The US National debt currently stands at $24.22 trillion - an absurd number - but it doesn’t stop the US paying for anything. Divided by the population - it would require every American - man, woman or child - to pay $80,000 each. But don’t worry because they’ll never have to.

Hopefully this is semi-coherent. I’m still learning and researching, and it’ll be much more coherent hopefully when I get it down in a YouTube video but the bottom line is that an independent Scotland will be in the best place to provide value for it’s people if we have our own currency that we issue from our own central bank. It is an absolute fundamental and we’d be stupid not to take the opportunity to create an economy that shrugs off this old view of government spending is similar to a household.

LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME.

Hope you have an excellent birthday.

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Cleanup (baon)

Summary: Stretch can use a little distraction this morning.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Spicy Flirting 🌶️

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was gonna be one of those mornings. Stretch knew it before he even opened his sockets. He wasn’t more than half-awake and already thoughts were ping-ponging around inside his skull, none of them having the mercy of sticking around long enough for him to actually finish one. He needed a coffee, oh, he had to check on the hydroponics in his lab downstairs today, but wait, the chickens would be waiting to be fed and a shower sounded good right about now and—

Stretch did the best he could by getting out of bed. If he wandered downstairs, eventually he’d bump into something that would hook his attention long enough to do something, coffee, that was it, hold onto that one, coffee, coffee. He had a slippery grip on the concept as he shrugged into his robe and headed out the bedroom door, but that was where it stalled, blanking.

Hello, there.

Downstairs, Edge was moving around the living room with a cleaning cloth in his hand. The brace on his slim leg didn't hinder him at all as he attacked the various shelves and furniture with precision, wiping each in broad strokes.

Stretch usually dusted (ugh) every week or so, but Edge always liked to give the house a little deep cleaning action when he had a chance. Didn’t bother Stretch any, like he didn’t have a few weird quirks hanging around like mental bats ready to fly out of his personal belfry? If it settled something in Edge to give his domain a once over, he was welcome to it.

Besides, it made for a nice little distraction from his own mental bouncy house. Stretch leaned against the banister that overlooked the living room and took a little time to enjoy the view.

The things his baby’s pelvis did to a pair of tight jeans had to be illegal in some countries, at the very least banned in public areas. His t-shirt chose to ride high when Edge rose up on his tippy toes to reach the highest shelf, exposing the consistent ridges of his spine, the dips of his sacroiliac joint. Right where Stretch knew he was extra sensitive and there was a wander down memory lane from last night, of Edge lying bare on their sheets, twisting handfuls of linen in his clenched fists, his spine bowed in a perfect arch as Stretch teased those little hollows with gentle fingers and then tongue...unf. One for the mental vaults, for sure.

Less good was that Stretch forgot to turn down the volume on his mental replay. A happy little moan weaseled its way out of his throat and through the clench of his teeth, and it was loud enough that Edge jerked and looked up, catching him smack dab in the middle of his dual voyeurism.

Busted.

But the scowl that settled on Edge’s face didn’t detract from that titillation, not one teensy little micron.

“hey, babe,” Stretch called down. May as well roll with it, play it casual. This was his house, too, and if he wanted to loom like a creeper upstairs, he had rights.

He was pretty sure Edge wasn’t about to whip out his wallet to buy what Stretch was selling, confirmed when he finally asked, coolly, “Did you need something?”

“nope.” Took some serious skill to pop the ‘p’ without lips, but Stretch wasn’t some amateur here, he was an expert in ‘act casual’. A damn shame that Edge was a professional doubter, years spent training in the arts by his bro.

His frown deepened suspiciously, but a lack of evidence seemed to be working in Stretch’s favor. Edge went back to his dusting and the very second he leaned down to get the struts under the coffee table, the sexy quotient went up by about tenfold. Stretch would have lost good money if he’d bet Edge’s painted-on jeans were too tight to move even a quarter inch, ‘cause when he bent over, they eased sloooowly lower, increasing the exposing gap between his t-shirt and his belt and giving Stretch a welcome socketful of his iliac crests. Shapely angular lines that all but begged for an eager hand to follow that path lower and see where it led.

It was a hell of a disappointment when Edge stood back up, shirt falling back into place…for a minute, barely long enough for Stretch’s hopes to drop before they stuttered back up as Edge reached towards another shelf. The dusting intensified, Edge moving through the living room and Stretch was down to a mental capacity of two; first, keeping from drooling and second, struggling to catch more glimpses of strong, scarred bones as they weaved in and out of sight.

He was hung up on a yo-yo of frustration and want. A needy little whimper clogged up briefly in Stretch’s throat, only escaping when Edge went down to one knee to check under the sofa. The sight of him kneeling there with his head down and the perfect view of his denim-clad ass in the air was asking too much of Stretch’s libido. Every bit of his magic was settling into Stretch’s own pelvis, hot and ready to get to work, and right when he was trying to jangle up enough sense to decide what to do about it, Edge glanced up right at him.

That knowing smirk was solid proof that a high IQ didn’t mean you couldn’t be an idiot. One hasty shortcut later and Stretch was yanking Edge back his arms, that teasing pelvis of his pressed right against Stretch’s as Edge settled amicably into his lap.

“you brat,” Stretch accused breathlessly. Edge’s soft chuckle sent a fresh spangle of want to dance up his spine, and yeah, maybe Stretch could’ve hid his admiration a little better, but why the hell would he want to. He loved it when his baby played the brat, damn well loved it, only for him, always.

“You said you didn’t need anything,” Edge reminded him. The last word broke on a startled gasp as Stretch slid a bold hand up his femur, settling it between his spread thighs and firmly cupping the bulge that was starting to glow at his crotch.

“baby love, i always need you,” Stretch whispered it into the side of Edge’s skull, let the warm dampness of his breath ghost against him like a caress. Edge shivered, the brief clatter of his bones inviting. “you wanna stop with the clean up and get down and dirty instead, you can call me any ol’ time.”

Later, Stretch would swear his soul skipped a beat as Edge murmured, every word laced with soft implication, “So mess me up.”

A giddy ‘cleanup on aisle five’ was Stretch’s last semi-coherent thought for a while and that was a good thing. Better sometimes to not think, to let the physical swarm over him and fill his bones with a languid exhaustion that didn’t have a damn thing to do with his HP.

Cleaning out the busy corners of his ever-twisting mind was never a chore when Edge was around to lend a hand.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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lailaliquorice · 5 years

Text

the world has no right to my heart

Oooh boy here’s some angst. And some long angst, coming in at just over 4k words.

This one was the brainchild of @qualquercoisa945, because I said to come up with a prompt for this lyric and maria suggest jane figuring out that henry never really loved her and that she was abused too. so this isn’t entirely just me coming up with ideas to hurt you all!! but this was a weighty prompt that I hope I’ve done justice because coming to terms with something like this is very difficult, I can testify to that myself, so I wanted to write this well.

tw for mentions of emotional abuse, and semi-graphic blood

It was hard for Jane not to feel like the odd one out amongst the rest of the queens with her first solo line declaring her ‘only one he truly loved’.

She knew that Anna sometimes struggled with feeling unworthy of her place in the lineup due to being the true one to survive and was already ready to convince her that she’d suffered at his hands too, but could never quite apply that thought to herself. Jane had been the lucky one to avoid it; maybe she wouldn’t have been so lucky if she’d had a daughter but she hadn’t, Edward had put her in his good graces and he’d loved her for that, so she’d been treated right. She’d kept herself quiet, she’d done everything he asked, she’d given him a son. So she’d been treated right.

But for a reason she couldn’t figure out, no one else seemed to be able to accept that.

The first person who Jane noticed routinely keeping an eye on her was Anne. Which wasn’t what she expected seeing as Anne had a reputation of being so careless. Hindsight would make Jane realise that of course it was Anne to notice first, since she had taken the brunt of his temper so often and paid for it with her life, but in the moment she just thought it a little odd how Anne watched her frowning after she startled at a door slamming upstairs.

“You alright?” she asked, no hint of a joke in her question.

Jane nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart was hammering at the sound. “I’m fine. It just make me jump, nothing more than that,” she said with a reassuring smile, holding Anne’s gaze until she nodded before heading over to the kitchen cupboard to see what she could make for lunch. They’d done the weekly food shop earlier so nothing had been opened yet, holding out a packet of crackers and asking Anne “Can I open these?”

The concerned look that had only just left Anne’s face returned in full force, making Jane wonder immediately if she’d done something wrong by asking in the first place. But then Anne shrugged and replied “Course you can, all the stuff in here is yours as much as the next person. You don’t have to ask.”

“Oh. I just thought I should ask, that’s all.”

She quickly busied herself with making her lunch, keeping her gaze low so that she didn’t have to acknowledge the worried eyes she could feel following her the entire time.

It continued on with little things like that. Cathy gently rebuking Jane for apologising over a mishap at the theatre that wasn’t her fault only for her to just say sorry again, Anna jumping a foot into the air when Jane’s silent footsteps meant she caught her off guard for the hundredth time, Aragon telling her over and over again that she didn’t need to ask to sit down when she came into the other dressing room. How she would always follow everyone else’s suggestions for everything and back down fast whenever she was asked what she wanted to do. Little things here and there, nothing frequent or linked enough that Jane ever really connected the dots but enough that she noticed them as singular events.

But one singular event that forced her to connect those dots at last started out with an argument that Jane wasn’t even involved with. While Anne and Aragon’s fights were nowhere near as common as they had been during the start of their time together they still happened every now and then – never serious and never lasting long, but still as loud as ever.

Normally Jane would focus more on making sure Kat was ok during those arguments since they could sometimes make her upset, the two of them hiding in one of their bedrooms or sometimes Cathy’s study until amends had been made. Today, however, Kat was actually out of the house when it happened. So Jane was on her own.

As the sounds of shouting floated in from where the two of them had set up their theoretical battleground in the kitchen, Jane tried to focus on the embroidery she was attempting to do. Cathy had already shut the living room door and Anna was playing music to try and mute the fighting a little but she could still hear every word, even her own thoughts inaudible as they were all she could focus on.

Anne’s particularly loud shriek made Jane jump and accidentally jab the needle into her finger instead, letting out an involuntary squeak. She set her material down on her lap as she sucked on where it was bleeding slightly, nervousness rising in her chest as the stinging pain added to the unpleasant sensations in her brain and she was no longer keeping herself distracted.

“Catch yourself there?” came Anna’s wry remark, and Jane just gave a half-hearted laugh in the hope that neither she or Cathy noticed anything out of the ordinary with her.

There was no such luck though, since before she could pick up the embroidery again her hand was grabbed by Cathy from where she was sat next to her. “What’s the matter?” Cathy asked, a concerned frown on her face.

Jane shrugged. “N-nothing, I’m fine,” she lied, almost wincing as how she stumbled over two simple words. She was sure that Cathy would be able to feel the tremble in her clammy hand but she was still desperate to keep quiet the anxiety making her heart hammer and head spin.

Cathy looked entirely unconvinced but didn’t press for more information, letting Jane continue with her work as she picked her book up. The kitchen had fallen quiet by then, and Jane felt her shoulders seize up with tension at the sound of footsteps approaching the living room door. She had no idea why but the only coherent thought in her mind was to run, to hide from whatever retribution was coming.

But then the door swung open to reveal Anne and Aragon together and actually smiling at each other.

“What in God’s name was that all about?” Anna asked the question on Jane’s mind, while she could only sit and watch wide-eyed like a cornered deer.

Anne groaned, giving Aragon a knowing look who returned it with a slightly exasperated smile. “You know that journalist who interviewed us about our overlapping years a little while back?” Anne asked, pausing long enough for Jane to just about nod before she continued. “Well he emailed us the sample article today, and it was absolute bollocks. Turned us against each other completely when we’d been aiming for an article on how Henry played us both.”

“So we had a… marginally uncivilised phone call with him,” Aragon added, a satisfied smirk on her face as she turned to look at Anne again.

Cathy and Anna both laughed, but Jane was still left feeling too unsettled to share in their amusement. “So you’re not fighting each other?” she clarified quietly, too quietly.

Scrunching her face in disapproval as she shook her head, Anne said “Nah, not this time. All’s good.”

“Good,” Jane repeated.

Anne hummed in agreement, though there was something slightly off in her demeanour as she watched Jane through concerned eyes. “Yeah, we’re good. Are you though?” she asked.

Jane just blinked in surprise as Anne moved round to squat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “I’m fine, really,” she said quietly.

“You sure? Because it looked like the shouting’s made you kinda nervous,” Anne pointed out in that same gentle voice she always used when she pointed out oddities in Jane’s behaviour.

She shifted nervously beneath Anne’s kind eyes, still not wanting to admit it but worried that she would be called out for denying Anne’s suggestion. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath as she felt herself being acutely watched from all angles.

Aragon’s voice from across the room saved her from her miserable purgatory. “Give her some space, Anne,” she said, prompting Anne to turn her gaze away from Jane’s face and Jane to practically sag in relief when she was no longer the centre of attention. “Nevermind all that now, we’ve given that man a piece of our mind and I should hope he goes what’s good for him now. For the time being, ladies, we should really be getting ready to go.”

The show gave Jane a great mask to hide behind for the rest of the evening; it was easy to pretend she was no less than ok when she was wearing her armour of sequins and had her smile painted on in dusky rose lipstick. But she could hear her own voice shaking as she recited the end of her monologue and began her song, performing on autopilot as certain phrases refused to leave her head after they left her lips.

“I stood firm, no matter his flaws or tempers. No matter my fears or doubts I stayed there by his side. And that’s not because I was scared…”

Or was it?

Tears streamed down her face by the end of her solo, barely choking out her final line before Anne came to rescue her from standing alone in that spotlight. But when Anne grabbed her hand during the pre-Haus of Holbein costume change and fixed her with a questioning glance, she could only rub away the dampness on her cheeks and shake her head while hoping she would be able to keep herself together for the rest of the show.

The second they were back home Jane was practically running straight up to her bedroom, ignoring even Kat’s worried voices as she shut her door and just breathed for the first time that evening. Normally she would find something to occupy herself as she wound down for a couple of hours after getting home, but she felt so worn down in that moment that it was a struggle to just take her makeup off and get changed before she fell asleep. She vaguely registered someone who she thought was possibly Aragon crack open her door and check on her as she was falling asleep fast, just about mustering the energy to tell her she’d be fine by the morning before wakefulness slipped away.

But in her haste to get the wearisome day over and done with, she gave no thought to the prospect that it wasn’t over at all.

She recognised the place she opened her eyes in far too quickly, and purely by the floor she was looking at. She was on her knees at the foot of a throne; his throne, of course. At his feet where he had made sure she never moved from.

“Please, sire,” she asked without intending to, her lips moving of their own accord, though she had replayed this scene in her dreams so many times already that no word was a surprise. “Have mercy on them. This is all I ask of you. I plead for your forgiveness on behalf of these people, for I know they have spoken against you but may their judgement be passed by God and not your executioner’s sword.”

It had been so long that she hardly remembered the people who’s lives she was begging for. Participants in some sort of uprising, she recalled, but the details were unimportant beneath what the scene meant for her.

A finger beneath her chin tilted her head up none too gently, forcing her to look into the eyes of the man she was supposed to love. His face was inches from hers, his breath hot on her face, though she was too frozen in fear to move away even if she had tried to.

His voice rumbled low like thunder as he spoke, echoing around the room as if she was surrounded from all angles by his presence.

“Oh Jane. Didn’t I already teach you a lesson in what happens to those who meddle in my affairs? I’m sure you don’t want to end up the same way that the witch who came before you did.”

“No,” Jane breathed out, unsure even herself if it was intended to be a response to him or a quiet cry of protest at whatever would come next.

He seized her face by tightening the grip on her jaw, fingernails digging into her cheeks, and when he wrenched her head around to one side it was all Jane could do not to shriek.

It was Anne. Or rather, she could just about recognise the woman slumped against the wall as the Anne she knew now, if she looked past the blood and bruises that marred her face. This had never happened in her dream before, and she could only continue watching in horror as the nightmare refused to end.

“Jane,” she rasped out, her voice dry and painful as if she’d shouted herself hoarse. She crawled sluggishly closer as she spoke, forcing her to see with horrible clarity the damage that had been done to her face and neck. “Jane, don’t do it. Don’t make my mistakes. Run, run and hide before he has the chance to do this to you. Before he hurts you like I did and you can never be yourself ever again.”

She was so focused on Anne’s broken pleas that she registered nothing else until there was a hand on her own neck. “Too late, witch,” he murmured, the faintest hint of laughter in his voice.

Anne had reached her by then, a look of unimaginable sorrow in her bruised eyes as she cupped Jane’s cheek with a bloodstained hand and whispered “I’m sorry.”

Movement in the corner of her eye made her look back at him. Anne’s body crumpled to the floor as he raised a sword in his other hand. Jane closed her eyes and screamed.

“Jane!!”

She shot up in bed, still screaming as she looked around in panic and tried to work out where she was. With the darkness suffocating her she still had no idea if she was still in the throne room or anywhere else, and with no clue to who’s voice had called her name she instinctively backed up in fear until she collided with the head of the bed and hid her face in the crook of her arm.

“Woah, Jane, it’s just us. You had a nightmare, you’re safe in the house and we’re all here. It’s ok.”

The light was flicked on then, and Jane dared to open her eyes just a little. True to their words the rest of the queens were all there; Anna stood by the light switch with a deeply unsettled expression on her face and Kat held in her embrace, Aragon perched on the edge of the bed, Anne sat on her knees just in front of Jane and Cathy right next to her. They were all in their pyjamas and looked as though they’d all bolted out of their rooms and into hers when her screams shattered the silent night.

“Jane, talk to us, please,” Anne said, making Jane realise it was her who had spoken before.

Cathy nodded, tugging on Anne’s arm to make her sit back a little when Jane refused to uncurl herself from her protective stance. “I promise you’re safe, love. We’re all here for you if you want to talk to us,” she added more gently, though there was still a serious note in her voice and look of fear in her eyes.

As Jane’s racing mind calmed down she began to realise why. She was always the one to comfort them after their nightmares and reassure them while they cried, so to see her on the other end of that role reversal had to be more than a little frightening for them all.

“I was at the palace with him,” she started in a trembling voice, swallowing hard when her dry throat made it hard to squeeze words out. Suddenly as more of her dream came flooding back she snapped her gaze up to Anne from where she’d been studying the pattern on her duvet cover, just taking in the sight of her unmarred face without the marks of his fury there anymore. “He hurt you,” she could only whisper, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle her uneven breaths.

“Hey, I’m here now though,” Anne said, placing a hand on Jane’s arm to see if she’d react badly before she risked moving closer.

Jane needed no further invitation to practically launch herself at Anne, wrapping her arms tightly around her and clinging to her desperately. “He’d hurt you and you tried to warn me. And he- he said that if I didn’t keep quiet then he’d teach me a lesson by doing what he did to you,” she sobbed out, every memory of Anne’s horribly broken form coming back as she just shook in her arms.

Anne seemed to freeze for a minute before she moved to comfort Jane, and in the back of Jane’s mind she could tell that she was a little unsettled by the tale she’d just told. A gentle touch on her shoulder made her look up to see Aragon sat close with a hand on each of their backs, the soothing note in her voice clearly meant for both of them as she said “Breathe, love, please. We’re in the present day and we’re all safe now.”

“But-“

“Shh, I promise we’re safe,” Cathy added, rubbing Jane’s arm gently as she sat back from Anne’s embrace.

Jane nodded, pulling in a hiccupping breath as she forced herself to calm down. She snuck a glance up at Anne when she realised she hadn’t spoken for a minute, almost quivering at the faraway expression on her face and jumping when she turned to look down at her. “Jane,” she asked, her voice quietly serious, “did that ever happen to you outside your dream?”

She nodded again, and Anne’s face crumpled.

“It was only once though,” Jane said, not sure why she was defending him but feeling somehow obliged to. “He only told me that once. And he was right, it was my fault for getting involved in something I shouldn’t have done. But he was never hurt me. He wasn’t the same with me.”

Anne shaking her head sorrowfully interrupted Jane’s tirade, the look in her eyes so similar to the look she’d held in Jane’s dream that she fell quiet immediately. “He didn’t have to hit you for him to hurt you,” she said, glancing at Aragon who gave a supporting nod. “Jane, ah, I’ve noticed a few things. And I think I know what it adds up to but I didn’t want to say but I think I kinda have to now.” Her words came out all in a rush as she spoke, seeming almost hesitant as she looked back at Jane.

Hardly daring to think, Jane asked “Like what?”

“Like how you feel you should ask before doing things as if we’ll tell you off for anything, and you’re always keeping quiet so we don’t notice you moving around, and feeling the need to apologise all the time and never want to make any choices in case we get mad. And then today, when us yelling made you seem so scared,” Anne listed, and even though her voice was so soft Jane still felt like she was being read out a list of her crimes.

Cathy’s quiet hum made Jane look over to see her nod solemnly. “Things like this are what Kat and I have been covering in our research,” she said, holding out her hand for Kat to take as she and Anna walked over to join them on the bed. “I don’t want to make any assumptions, because I wasn’t there and the only person who can truly know is you. But they’re all signs of emotional abuse.”

“He didn’t,” Jane whispered, still unwilling to believe that. “He loved me. He can’t have done that, he said he loved me.”

The sympathetic looks of her fellow queens as she looked around at them all was almost too much to bear.

“I know this can’t be easy to hear,” Aragon said, reaching over to take Jane’s hand in hers. “But think for me, love. If Edward had been a girl, then what?”

Jane stopped.

Her mind started spinning with the hints he’d made. The anger that had been in his eyes so often while she’d been forced to just batten down the hatches and endure it. The deeper meaning of that one threat which had haunted her nightmares; it wasn’t only meddling in his affairs that Anne had done wrong, it was having a daughter. Maybe she could have done everything possible to keep herself quiet, to keep herself what she wanted her to be, but that one innocent fatal mistake could have sent her to the scaffold regardless.

Kat’s quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, the first time she had spoken that evening. “My counsellor said it’s like being in a box,” she spoke quietly, though there was conviction in her voice that told Jane even though she was nervous she was also confident in her words. “Every time you touch the walls it hurts so you try and be smaller so you don’t get hurt. But then the walls get smaller and smaller and you’ll never be small enough to be what they want. Does that… does that sound familiar?”

She could only stare at her friend-turned-daughter for a moment, wondering how she could have been so blinded with everything that Kat had gone through. “Oh god,” she burst out, covering her hands over her mouth and hunching forwards as she shook with terrified sobs.

Immediately she felt two people’s hands on her back, anchoring her to the present while she sobbed about the past. “You’re alright, Jane. It’s ok,” Anne whispered , “It’s scary to think about and it’s a lot to process but you’re ok now. I promise you’re ok.”

Those words were what Jane clung onto as she poured her emotions out, not caring that she was crying in front of them because she trusted them with this empty shell of herself she had become.

It was a few minutes before she had her breathing under control enough to talk again, sat leaning against Aragon with Cathy and Anne holding a hand each and Anna and Kat with her nearby. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, taking her hand back from Anne for a moment to rub at the tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t be,” Aragon whispered from above Jane’s head, squeezing her opposite shoulder gently with the arm around her back. “We can think about this in the morning. For now, though, we should really all be getting some more sleep.”

Kat’s yawn emphasised Aragon’s point exactly, and Jane cracked a tiny smile as she nodded. But then the thought of being alone for the rest of the night came flooding back, fear in her voice as she begged “Please, don’t leave me tonight.”

“Course we won’t,” said Anne with a smile.

And that was how a few minutes later found Jane tucked back up in her bed, with Kat curled into her on one side and Anne’s reassuring presence on the other. Cathy was latched onto Aragon like a koala a little way down the bed with Anna sprawled out and taking up the space by their feet. The night was still scary and she was still reluctant to sleep in case her nightmares made a return but Anne’s soft snoring next to her was a constant reminder that she was ok and that they’d both survived the past.

There was a lot she would need to deal with after that realisation she’d finally come to terms with. But, for now, she could rest with her family all around her and the knowledge that they would never let her get hurt again.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #jane seymour #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #anna of cleves #catherine parr #katherine howard #laila's writing

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prince-simon · 5 years

Note

“what are you doing? come to bed” and [hugs for a very long time] for the promt thing? by the way i love your writing

thank you so much! you’re too kind @unendeligtid insisted on this ending… i hope you like it!

Everything around him is quiet but Matteo’s mind is screaming. He’s been lying like this for hours, jittery, and not even David’s quiet breathing next to him can calm him down.

Matteo’s very familiar with feeling this overwhelmed. It doesn’t matter if it’s because a social situation gets too much or if he’s so happy he can’t contain all those feelings. Either way, it makes his skin crawl and his heart race.

His therapist suggested writing the mess inside him down whenever he feels like this so when he’s feeling better again, he can reflect on the situation and prevent feeling like this again on a similar occasion. It works semi-well. But that’s enough for Matteo to keep trying.

He carefully crawls out of bed, making sure he doesn’t wake up David. He didn’t wanna worry him needlessly. Sitting down at their desk, he turns on the light that luckily isn’t bright enough to disturb David and looks for his journal. It’s a very pretty journal; David specifically made it for him, turning the cover into a kind of collage with different textures. There’s a leather band with knots in it that Matteo traces his fingers over, different kinds of fabric that feel rough or smooth under his touch, beads in different sizes and keychain rings. Sometimes, it’s enough for Matteo to hold the journal in his hands and feel the different shapes under his hands.

But not today, because it just reminds him that David is way too good to and for him.

I’m happy so why am I feeling so much dread? Most of his journal entries start in some variation of this; it kickstarts Matteo’s brain and then he isn’t thinking all too much when he starts scribbling. A mess of words that don’t really make sense in that moment. He’s too good for me. I love him so much. Neither one of us is running anymore. But if we were, we’d do it together. It’s a bit of a trance-like state he’s in in those moments and after he writes down the last word and comes back to himself, he’s always surprised at the pages he’s written.

How has he put up for me this long? More than five years. Not even my own father could put up with me. David makes me feel so safe, I don’t know what I’d do if he left me.

The other day we saw a puppy, it was absolutely smitten with David. I think I wanna get a dog, make our little family bigger. Is that too much commitment? Will it scare him away?

“Matteo?” David’s groggy voice sneaks its way into Matteo’s foggy brain.

He brushes the tears he didn’t even realise he cried from his cheeks. “Go back to sleep, babe,” He whispers softly.

The sheets rustle and David sits up in bed. His hair is sticking up in every which direction. He makes my heart ache in the very best way. “What are you doing? Come to bed,” David gives him an adorable pout.

Matteo’s heart is still pounding in his chest, but it feels different now, it doesn’t want to suffocate him anymore. “Just a second,” Matteo promises. He turns back to the desk and writes down: I wanna spend the rest of my life with him. Then he puts the pen away and closes his journal.

He startles a little when David suddenly wraps his arms around him from behind, enveloping him like a koala. And Matteo just breathes, the tension seeping out of him.

“Are you okay?” David murmurs, tightening his arms over Matteo’s chest.

“Yeah, just-“ He gulps and says, “Do you wanna read it?”

David knows about the journal and why Matteo is keeping it, of course, but it’s just for Matteo and David has never read in it. Sometimes- most times, really, Matteo talks to David about what’s been going on in his head, why he’s written in the journal. But it’s always a different, less messy and more coherent version of his feelings after he’s already analysed them by reading in his journal. “Are you sure?” David asks, clearly surprised by the offer.

Matteo shrugs. He’d never tell David everything that he’s worrying about concerning their relationship if he just talked to David in the morning. And Matteo knows they need this kind of clear communication, he can’t keep all of it bottled up even though it maybe feels like the safer route. “Yeah,” He says simply.

David unwraps himself from Matteo and squeezes his shoulders before he walks around the chair and unceremoniously plants himself in Matteo’s lap. He gingerly picks up the journal, brushing his fingers over the cover. “Show me where,” He whispers, handing it over to Matteo and closing his eyes so there’s absolutely no chance for him to have a peek at anything else in there.

Matteo’s heart surges. He really really loves David so fucking much. “Here.”

And David starts reading, brow furrowed in concentration and Matteo doesn’t try to think too much about what’s written in there because he can’t remember anyway. David is reading it now and it’s too late to take it back anyway.

When David eventually puts down the journal, it’s so quiet between them. David looks at him and Matteo wants to look away but he can’t. David’s eyes are glimmering. “I love our little family, I’d love it if we got a dog and I want to spend the rest of my life with you too. I love you, Matteo, and you don’t have to be afraid of me leaving. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” David cups Matteo’s face in his hands and presses a kiss to his lips. He clears his throat. “I’ve been- I’ve been thinking about this for a while actually, how to ask you. So I guess I’ll just come out with it now because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life… do you want to get married? To me?”

Matteo gapes at him, processing everything David’s just said. It doesn’t make sense to him, it maybe never will but David wants to marry him and he’s probably the happiest he’ll ever be. “Yes. Yes, I do want to marry you,” He whispers, overjoyed, capturing David’s lips in a sloppy kiss.

They hug for the longest time, just breathing each other in and basking in their happiness. Matteo can’t believe he’ll have this for the rest of his life. When they pull apart, David’s smile is blinding, mirroring Matteo’s own. “Now let’s go back to bed,” David suggests but he can’t help kissing Matteo again. It’s more teeth than anything but it’s perfect.

Prompt me!

#druck #davenzi #datteo #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #matteo x david #matteo x beanie boy #druck fic #am i a writer yet

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bennwriting · 4 years

Text

Cat and Mouse

People Are Messy: Part 1 of 2 (for now) This is supposed to be part of a larger work, but this and one other chapter are the only ones I don't hate so far. Hope you like it!

“I’m so sorry, Jame,“ I said with a hug.

“Thanks, Mouse.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. Sad eyes stayed aimed at the floor. Weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“You wanna watch a sad movie and eat ice cream and cry it out, or would you rather throw darts at her picture?”

A rueful chuckle. “I’m not fucking crying.”

“Darts it is!”

“No,” he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “No darts. Just.” Scrubbed a hand down his face. “I dunno. Can I kick your ass at bubble hockey or something?”

Grabbing his arm with my free hand, I squeezed and winked. “If you think you’re good enough.”

“Oh you are so toast,” he grinned. I turned toward the stairs, but he pulled me back into a loose hug. “Hey. Thanks. Really.”

“Any time, bud.” I held tightly and felt the sigh. It was a long minute before he was ready to let go and follow me upstairs. I just let him take his time.

He did kick my ass at bubble hockey. Ruthlessly. I was happy to let him take it out on the game, something harmless. I made a show of trying to win and being upset that I lost, but we both knew I never stood a chance. Unfortunately, it didn’t lighten the mood.

“Ok this isn’t working. You’re concentrating too hard.”

Jamie sighed, palms on the machine. “Yeah.”

“You sure no darts?”

“No darts.”

“Ok but you gotta let it out somehow.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Pressed his forehead against the bubble. “Fuck, this sucks.”

“We could dance it out.”

Head up just enough to glare at me. “This is not Grey’s Anatomy, and I am not dancing.”

“You sure? We could totally turn on some terrible country music and dance.”

“No.” Giggle.

“Ok but if you change your mind, the offer’s open.”

“Good to know. Let’s just watch a movie. But not a sad one. Like an action flick.”

“Fury Road?”

“Perfect.”

“Done. Let’s blow some shit up!”

Laughter chased me as I danced down the hall into the media room, followed shortly by a hard root beer in my hand.

“Thanks. Am I still the only one drinking these?”

“Yup. All yours. No one else will touch them.”

“Sweet. Y’all are missing out, though.”

“Nope.”

Shrugging, I turned and put my feet in his lap, and he looked down and chuckled before settling into the movie.

Somehow, without conscious thought, we ended up lying down on the couch, Jamie using me as a human body pillow, head on my chest and arms and legs wrapped around me. I started out rubbing his back but ended up combing my fingers through his hair.

Both of us were so relaxed that it didn’t occur to me at first that his hand had made its way under my t-shirt and over my bra. Not squeezing, or even fondling, just resting there like that’s where it belonged. I’m pretty sure he didn’t realize what he was doing until he pushed my shirt up and absently involved his mouth.

I jumped, he jumped, then he bolted upright so fast he nearly dumped me onto the floor.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s ok, you just startled me.”

“Not ok. What was I thinking? Oh god.” He looked mortified.

I had to lean way over to reach where he was backed into the corner of the couch like a frightened animal, but I took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Jamie, it’s ok. No harm done. Really.”

Barely looking at me through the cringe, he scrubbed his free hand over his face as if it would wipe away the lovely shade of scarlet he was blushing.

“I’m so, so sorry. You know I would never …”

“I know. Jame. Sweetheart.” I climbed over to him and pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s ok. I mean it.”

Relaxed ever so slightly into the hug, he was still tense, so I rubbed his back until he let out a heavy sigh and hugged me back like I wasn’t made of glass. But when I sat back, he still couldn’t bring his eyes up to mine.

“Chubbs. Hey.”

Finally, he slowly looked up at me through his lashes, as if he expected a lecture.

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You’re just missing that. It’s understandable, really.”

“It’s unacceptable. I have no right to just … take. I just … you were so soft and warm and … I spaced out and … god, what is wrong with me?”

“How long has it been?”

“What?” Confusion.

“How long? When’s the last time you … y’know, touched anyone?”

Blushing again, staring at his hands. “Oh. Um. I dunno, like, a few months? But like, we went longer than that during the season. Well, I did.”

Softly, “Oh honey.” Grabbed his hand. He flinched a little, then sighed.

“Can you … not call me that? It’s …”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“S’ok. It just … hurts.”

“Yeah. Do you … can I …” Failing to form a coherent sentence, I did the only thing I could think of — kissed him, full on the mouth.

Surprised, he didn’t respond at first, but then instinct took over and he kissed me back, slowly, then a little desperately, a drowning man grabbing onto a life preserver. Strong hands cradled my head, not tenderly — to make sure I didn’t pull away.

The kiss was raw, needy, nothing sweet or loving about it, just frayed, pent-up emotions being released. When it ended, we stared at each other in semi-stunned silence for a bit before he found his words.

“What was that?”

“Pretty sure it was a kiss,” I quipped.

“No shit, really? I mean why.”

A shrug. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“So … you kissed me?”

“I think you kissed me back.”

“I did. But … I thought … I mean …”

“What? Oh. I’m not … I’m just … different. I do like boys. And don’t let this go to your big ol’ vain head, but you’re kind of beautiful.”

He blushed the most amazing shade of pink at that, one dimple threatening to dig into his cheek as he looked down at his hands.

“Anyway, you’re hurting and clearly touch-starved, and I just really wanted to kiss it better. Was that ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was … nice.” Eyes back up to mine, looking for confirmation that it was really ok.

“Do you wanna do it again?”

“I don’t wanna take advantage.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah.” Blushing again. “Ok. I do. If it’s ok with you.”

“It’s definitely ok. Do you … want to do more?”

“No! No … I mean yeah I want to, but …”

“Hey. I’m asking. You’re not pushing.”

“I just don’t wanna … use you. I can go pick up in a bar for that.”

“Even if I’m offering?”

“But you don’t want that.”

“I want to help you. I want to make you feel good.”

“I don’t want pity sex.”

“I’m not offering out of pity. I’m offering because I want to help. I know that’s a fine line, but it makes a difference to me.”

“So you … want me?”

“In this situation, yes. Look, I don’t want to get all TMI. I want to fill that need for you. If you want me to.”

“I just … didn’t think you liked it.”

“I do … I just need something more than basic animal attraction, and you needing me right now does that for me. So now that we’ve discussed it to death, can I kiss you again?”

A smile, a nod, and to my surprise, he pulled me up to straddle his lap. “I’m serious, Mouse, tell me if you want me to stop. I don’t want to fuck up our friendship just because I’m lonely and horny.”

“Promise. But same goes for you. If it’s too weird, we don’t have to keep going.”

“Deal.” Then a kiss that made my head spin. Lips trailing from my ear down my neck to my collarbone made my spine tingle.

“Damn, Jamie.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Fuck no. Please, no.”

I felt the smile against my skin before he pushed my shirt up and off.

“Good ‘cause I really don’t want to.”

Only a moment to look into his nearly black eyes before he was kissing me again, surprisingly soft hands meandering across my chest then coming together to unclasp my bra. As soon as the straps were down my arms and off, he lifted my hands back up to his hair and skimmed his fingers along my arms back down to my chest.

Those soft hands caressed and fondled their way around my skin, gentle but not tentative, while the mouth did the demanding. Passionate kisses from my lips down my throat, just shy of leaving marks. When they reached my chest, I lifted up on my knees to give him better access.

Lips surrounded one nipple, and he teased with his tongue while taking more in his mouth and then sucking hard enough to make me whimper.

“Ok?”

“Mhmm. More.”

He smiled and shifted to the other side, made me whimper again, dragging teeth along skin. Hands dropped to the button of my jeans.

“Hey, no fair, you’re still dressed,” I whined.

An impatient huff, but he backed off and yanked his shirt over his head, giving me a nice show, then surprised me by standing and dropping his shorts to the floor, leaving him in nothing but boxer briefs. He pulled me up so he could finish taking off my jeans, pushing them down to my ankles while kissing his way down my body. I had to hold onto his shoulders when he nuzzled into the fabric of my panties, hot breath making me tingle again. Feet freed one by one, then beard tickling my torso as he stood.

In nothing but our underwear, we stared at each other a little awkwardly for a moment, but he fixed it by kissing me, easy and unhurried, before quietly lifting me up, hands on my ass.

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” murmured into another kiss.

“Jamie, I can walk! That’s on the other side of the house.”

“Mmmmnope. Want to carry you.”

And then I was pinned against the wall of the elevator. Oh. Well that was hot.

Dizzy from his mouth on mine, I saw nothing but him until he was setting me down softly on the floor in his bedroom.

Quietly, “Still sure?”

“So sure.” I spun him around and pushed him down on the bed. He just stared as I crawled onto his lap, but caught up quickly and pulled me in for a hot and heavy kiss, hands in my hair, teeth pulling at my bottom lip, tongue in my mouth.

I leaned forward, using my body to tell him to lie back without breaking the kiss, and he smoothly pivoted his feet onto the bed and pulled me down with him. Once he was settled, I started kissing his neck, from the hollow of his throat up to his ear. Lingered for a while, pulled a moan from him that made my heart race.

“Tell me what you want first,” murmured in his ear. “You want my mouth? My tits? My pussy?

A moaned “fuck” was the only response, and I rocked against his crotch a little. Hands grabbed my hips and pulled me down harder. “Fuck. Don’t …”

“Don’t?” I breathed before sucking on his earlobe.

“Mouth. Your mouth. Please.”

Smiling, I nibbled on his ear for a bit before kissing, licking, and nipping my way down his body. Flicked a nipple with my tongue, got him panting a little and fisting hands in my hair.

It was a little bit of a struggle to get his boxers over the curve of his ass and thick thighs, but once they were to his knees, he kicked them the rest of the way off and lay flat again. When he reached to touch himself, I swatted his hand away and replaced it with mine.

“Let me.”

All he could do was close his eyes and nod and let out a sigh when I gave him a long, light stroke that I immediately followed with my tongue. Whimpered just a little as I took the head into my mouth. Moaned, long and loud, when I swirled my tongue around under his foreskin. A hand swept through my hair to the base of my skull. I looked up at him without stopping.

Eyes intense, a little watery, lips parted, breathing shallow. When I took more of him in my mouth and licked up the underside, he closed his eyes and moaned again, softer this time, almost a whine.

Slowly, I built him up, my hand around the base pumping in rhythm with my mouth — there was no way I could take all of him — until he was panting and shaking, gasping a combination of “fuck” and “oh god,” pulling my mouth off of him just in time to stripe ropes of cum all over his chest.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I smiled up at him softly, hand still wrapped around him.

“I didn’t want … um … I knew it was going to be a lot. Too much.”

Leaning up to kiss his cheek, I laughed softly. “You still didn’t have to, sweetie,” I murmured in his ear. “I’ll be right back.”

He hummed his assent and sank back into the pillows, boneless. A quick mouth rinse and I returned with a warm, wet washcloth, straddled his thighs, began gently cleaning off his stomach and chest. Smiling, he put his hand over mine.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Let me take care of you.”

“K,” he smiled bashfully. “But you’re never gonna get it all out of my chest hair.”

I giggled. “Voice of experience?”

“Yes.” A bright blush bloomed on his cheeks, but he was still smiling and relaxed. I smiled back and finished cleaning up as best I could.

“I guess we’ll just have to get you in the shower.”

Pulling me down onto his chest, he giggled. “If I get you all sticky, will you join me?”

“Oh my god,” I laughed, “all you had to do was ask. The answer would have been yes.”

“Good.” Then he pulled me into a kiss that made us forget all about the shower.

As we kissed, I rocked my hips into his, and he grabbed my ass with both hands.

“Mmm, why are you still not naked?” mumbled into the kiss.

“Dunno. Been busy.”

He snorted as he rolled me over and hovered above me, pulled my panties off and kissed his way back up my body. There was a long pause at my chest where his mouth and hands and eyes made a thorough exploration of every available inch of skin, leaving nipples at attention and heart pounding.

“I didn’t know you had a mascot,” he smiled and softly traced the tiny tattooed mouse on my ribs under my right breast.

I giggled. “Mhmm. She hides.”

“She’s cute.”

“She says thanks.” Another giggle.

Still smiling, he placed a sweet, chaste kiss on the mouse’s head. Then mouth and hands parted ways — mouth back to mine while his right hand skimmed back down to my thigh. He shifted onto one hip beside me but kept kissing, muting my whimper when two fingers dipped between my legs and gently slid up through my folds.

“This ok?”

“Mhmm. But you don’t need to do anything for me. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“I want to though,” he murmured. “I want to touch you everywhere. I want to make you come. And when I’m ready again, I want to fuck your brains out.”

The combination of that soft voice and the dirty talk short-circuited my brain, and all I could do was moan “god damn” and pull him back to my lips. Taking that as a sign to continue, he pushed my legs apart and picked up where he left off.

“Fuck, Mouse, you’re so wet. For me?”

“No, for the other hot guy who’s been kissing all over me,” I laughed, shoving him playfully. “Yes you, dork.”

“Ok yeah you’re gonna have to explain it to me like I’m stupid. Later. Right now I just wanna touch you.”

“Mmm, anything you want.”

My hips bucked into his hand, and I guided him to my sweet spot, helped him get the rhythm right.

Lips against my ear, voice so soft. “There good?”

“Fuck yes, just like that. Don’t stop.”

Needing something to hold onto, I reached up and got a hand in his hair. He moaned.

“Oh. You like that?”

Leaning into my hand, “Yeah.”

And so I held onto his hair — not quite pulling — while he continued to make my toes curl. Never losing rhythm with his hand, he brought his mouth into play, kissing lips, then neck, then chest. When I came, panting, digging my fingers into his scalp and arm, his mouth was back on my neck, just below my ear, and he placed little soft kisses all along my jaw and across my neck and collarbone.

“Jesus, Chubbs,” I breathed when I’d come down, “that was uhhh …”

Bless his heart, he tried not to be smug about it, but I could tell he was proud of himself.

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it’s um. Been a while since someone did that for me.”

“How long?”

“Ummm … years? Not sure how many.”

“Do you …” He blushed so hard it went down his chest. “y’know, take care of yourself?��

“Oh. Mmmm, sometimes. Mostly to shut my mind off when I can’t sleep, really. It’s a whole different thing, having someone else do it. Same basic mechanics, very different feeling.”

His hand, which had moved to my hip, pulled me over onto my side, facing him.

“Do you still want to …”

“Do you?”

Suddenly shy, he looked down. “Yeah,” he said softly. “If that’s ok.”

“Hey, look at me.” I waited. When he finally brought his big brown eyes up to mine, I continued. “I mean it. Anything you need. If that’s sex, cool, I’m down. If you just wanna lie here and kiss and touch, that’s fine. If you just need to hold me or be held, I can do that too. Tell me what you need.”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Is any of this helping?”

A smile. “Yeah. It is.”

“Then let's just go with it.” I smirked. “Kiss me.”

He snorted a little laugh and then leaned in for a slightly tentative kiss. Tentative shifted pretty quickly to steamy, hands moving over skin, grabbing tits and ass and pulling me closer. I could feel him getting hard again, long before he acted on it, rubbing against me, pulling my knee up over his hip.

Softly, in my ear, “I want you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ok?”

“Fuck me, Jamie.”

“Fuck. Yeah, ok.” Rolling over to his nightstand, he grabbed a condom from the drawer. When that was squared away, he kissed me, hard, and rolled me onto my back so he could hover over me. More kissing — my lips, my neck — while he lined himself up and slowly eased in. Just a little.

A whispered “fuck” and he backed off. “You’re so tiny, Mouse. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not gonna lie, you’re … um … well, bigger than I’ve had before.”

He blushed. This big, brawny, hot-as-fuck stud was bashful about his big dick. Talk about a turn-on. Rather than continuing the discussion, I guided him back in, hooked my feet around his thighs, pulled him into a kiss.

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much, ok?”

“Yeah.” A nod. “Ok.”

Again, slowly, tentatively, he pressed in. It was a lot. I may have made a noise. Ok, I whimpered. He stopped.

It didn’t … hurt, exactly. “It’s ok. Keep going. I’m ok.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just … keep going slow.”

“Mouse —“

“No, seriously, Chubbs … oh my god, is that why they call you …”

“Shut up, no, I was fat, ok?”

I giggled. He shook his head and pushed in a little harder. “Brat.”

“Fatty.”

Fighting a smile, he did it again.

“Fuck,” I squeaked. “Ok that felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do it again.”

He did.

“Oh god.”

“More?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded. He pushed in further. My eyes rolled back in my head a little.

“Ok?”

“Yeah. No more slow, just go.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.”

I gasped as he pressed in the rest of the way.

“Ok?”

“Yep, good. Just … wow.”

He kissed me, sweetly, tenderly, and started to move. “Tell me what feels good, ok?”

“Mhmm.”

“Mouse, you gotta breathe.”

I blew out the breath I was holding. “I will. In a minute. I just gotta … adjust.”

He stopped for a second and kissed me. “We don’t need to do this if it doesn’t feel good.”

“Does it feel good for you?”

“Yes, fuck. So good.”

“Then I’m good. Just gimme a minute to catch up. Keep going though.”

“Ok. But I mean it. If you’re uncomfortable we stop.”

“Jamie, just shut up and fuck me.”

His eyes closed, and he sucked in a breath. Kissed me hard and went back to rocking into me, with more force this time.

It had been so long, I’d kind of forgotten what sex felt like. And Jamie was very different from the one other guy I’d been with, both physically and emotionally. I shifted under him a little, and he adjusted, got his arms under my legs, and oh my god that made all the difference. I let out a moan. My toes curled. I dug my nails into his shoulders.

Message received, he settled into that position, slowly rolling his hips, still making sure I was ok but mostly getting lost in his own experience. Eyes closed and brow furrowed, biting his bottom lip, barely making a sound other than breathing.

The man had stamina. I shouldn’t have been surprised, given that he’s an athlete, but I didn’t expect him to want to go all night. I was not complaining. He kept his weight off me, and the position we’d found had him hitting sweet spots I didn’t know I had. When he got closer to losing control, he sped up just a tad, went just a bit harder, and that did it for me. My body quivered from my shoulders to my knees as I came hard enough that I could barely breathe.

A raspy “Jesus fuck,” was followed by stuttering hips and lost rhythm, and he pounded a couple dozen more erratic strokes before he dove forward and kissed me through his own orgasm. The kiss slowly tapered off from frenzied to tender, until he stopped and rested his forehead against mine.

A long moment later, he very gently pulled out, took off the condom, tied it, tossed it vaguely in the direction of his bathroom before collapsing onto the bed — mostly beside me but with his head nestled into my neck and one arm snaked over and around me. I immediately got a hand in his hair and the other on his back, rubbing slowly.

It was several long moments before he had the capacity to speak, and then it was barely audible, his already soft voice on the edge of sleep.

“Stay?”

“Of course, anything you need.”

“Just this. Exactly what you’re doing.”

“Ok. Get some sleep, Chubbs. I’ve got you.”

#jamie benn #jamie benn fanfic #jamie benn fanfiction #cat and mouse fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey rpf #asexual character #gray asexual

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