#that freaking quarter zip

[inkskinned]

it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

#writeblr #warm up #on gender politics lol #inkskinned try not to have feelings for someone challenge #time of death: they put my earring in their ear. they were wearing an unbuttoned black buttondown and a necklace with my name on it #you can just send me the coffin i was ready to crawl in

[xxblairexxss]

Who are you? p.2

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff, I think

Word count : 2.9k

Warning! Poorly translated French

Part 1 Part 3

It was your second time meeting the country’s gem boy but it surely wasn’t a smooth one.

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"I’m gonna put you here. Oh my God! I’m so excited!” You squealed and dipped your hand into the large box of new clothes that had just been delivered. Linda was all ready for your little haul, like she always was while putting her face mask on. "I bought this dress!"

"It’s so cute! Try it on!”

"What? Right now?" You were in jeans and a crop top, waiting for your VIP driver to pick you up as promised or as you were forced to agree two days ago. You didn’t know if he was the right on time person or someone who never bothered to check the time, so you got yourself ready for the day early because you surely couldn’t survive another round of humiliating yourself in front of the country’s precious gem again.

"There’s like 20 minutes left. He’s not going to knock on the door any second. Quick, try it on! I want to see how it is on you!” Linda assured.

"Fine. Give me a second.” You took out the dress from the packaging, stripped yourself until you were left in your underwear, and slipped the dress on.

It was pretty, as you pictured it would be but it was tight. Too tight.

You definitely picked the wrong size that you couldn’t even walk properly in it.

"Damn! You look good!” Your best friend’s eyes widened as you walked into the frame, completely ignoring your suffocating expression. "Why is the upper part a little loose?"

"I picked the wrong size! I can’t even zip up the back.” You whined and tried to reach the zip part. "Oh, I got it.” You pulled it up, roughly three quarters from the full length, and gave up when it put you out of breath. "Nah, it’s too tight."

"It looks so freaking beautiful! You would be getting all eyes if you ever wore that in public!"

"Only after I change it to the right size because now—oh no." You frowned, tugging on the zipper a little harder. It won’t budge.

"What? Y/N, what?"

"It’s stuck!" You cried and tugged on the zipper again. "What am I supposed to do?"

"How can you get stuck in the dress?” Linda, being the most amazing friend you could ever ask for, burst out laughing.

"It’s not funny! I need—" You whirled your head towards the door as the bell rang. "Fuck! He’s here. What should I say?"

"Ask for his help!” Linda suggested as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"He can’t see me looking like this! Are you kidding me? Talk to you later.” You ended the call before she went into another round of laughter as the bell rang once again.

"Hey?" Charles tilted his head, brows arched as you opened the door with the chain on, which only allowed him to see you from the small gap. "Your appointment is in 5 minutes."

"I’m going with someone else. Sorry for troubling you.” You moved your face away as if the door would hit you when he pushed the door back.

"I thought you had made an agreement with Charles Monaco?”

"I don’t have time for a joke!” You shut him up and groaned. "I can’t go out like this."

"Like what? What is the problem this time?"

"Like this!" You whined.

"In case you didn’t realise, I can only see your head. What do you actually want to show me?” He heard the chain went loose as you closed the door.

"This.."

Charles stepped back when you opened the door all the way, much wider this time, revealing your little dress that grasped every curve of your body. "Dang, you tryna hit the club with that sprained wrist?"

"No, I’m going to punch that pretty face of yours." You stepped aside as he walked in. Just like everyone else’s first time being in a new area, he started looking around, waiting for you to elaborate further on your problems. You, on the other hand, were unable to look at him or bring up the topic, though it felt like you were going to faint anytime soon for the lack of oxygen.

"So? Your problem is?” He took another glimpse of you before checking his watch. "There’s no sense of urgency in that gorgeous body of yours, I see."

You locked your gaze on your feet and mumbled. "I’m stuck.."

"You what?" His brows were drawn closer, frowning at you.

"I’m stuck in this dress!” You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the humiliation that was about to come.

"How the heck did you get stuck in the dress?" Charles wanted to laugh, and he knew you knew he was going to make fun of you too, but seeing you in the dress with your wrist secured in a bandage wrap made him feel bad. "Turn around. Let me see."

"Go ahead." You looked up and glared at him.

"Go ahead, what, silly? I’m trying to help you." He stood there like a statue, waiting for you to turn around because there was no way he would move to your back. He was nearly charged with an attempted murder two days ago, and he definitely didn’t want to take another leap in the dark. And he just met you. No woman would be comfortable enough to show the back of her body to a random guy.

"Go ahead and laugh at me."

"I don’t have time for a laugh, Y/N. We are late! They kept spamming my phone with calls. Just turn around.” He sighed.

You pursed your lips, gathering your hair in one hand as you turned your back on him, waiting for him to fix the zipper.

Charles was astounded. His hands went a little clammy as he saw your half-bare back. The way the body line became more obvious as you moved your arms even by a little bit, stunned him.

"Quit staring!"

"Oh, sorry." He muttered and took a step forward. The zipper was indeed stuck at the spot, as he had to tug on it a little hard to move it down. "Is this okay?"

You just wanted to dig a hole to hide yourself. Nothing could mortify you more than this. Not only did you not recognise the country’s athlete, he was here in your house with your exposed back for him to see. You felt his touch on your back as he pulled the zipper down and had to pray that you weren’t sweating from it. "Yeah, that should be fine. Let me just take this.” You turned around and quickly picked up your jeans and top that you had worn before and scurried to your room to change.

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"We should be able to take your bandage off in two weeks! Until then, please take the medicine if there is any discomfort. If it lasts more than 2 days, give us a call or just come here for a further check-up."

"Oh! Can you.." You took out your phone and went to the notes. "..change the phone number to this one? It’s mine, so it should be easier.” You grinned and handed the phone to the staff.

"No." Charles took the phone away before it reached the staff’s hand.

"What is wrong with you? I’m so sorry. I don’t know this guy and why’s he acting like this.” You sent a glare to the driver and smiled again towards the staff. "Can you just use this phone number, please?” You took the phone back and handed it back, only for it to be in Charles’ hand again.

Your mouths were wide open as he proceeded to speak in French to the staff, completely ignoring you as if this didn’t have anything to do with you at all. The staff nodded and took the phone in his hand as he handed it back to you right away.

"What did you say to her?” You finally asked as you got into the car, after being stopped ten times by his fans for autographs and pictures.

"Oh, I told her she could remove my phone number and proceed with everything in the future with yours.” He arched a brow and smirked, which made you pull your face. "What are you doing?"

"It seems like everyone wants to take a picture with you. I should take my chance too!” You brought up the phone, angled it to where you and Charles were in the frame, and clicked on the snap button. "Gotcha!"

"You need to pay for that.” He turned the engine on and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Yeah, right. Don’t try to scam me. You didn’t ask for money from the fans earlier”. You stared at the picture you just took and cackled at his expression.

"That’s because they asked for my permission. You didn’t. They could sue you."

"Funny!" You pulled the seatbelt as the car started to move and waited for him to pull a face, but he didn't, so your lips went into a straight line. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah. Do I look like I’m playing around?” He turned the blinker on before turning right.

"Do I still get sued if I just keep the pictures on my phone?”

"No, I don’t think so. I can ask my manager about that.” He tilted his head to the right and bit his lips to keep himself from laughing as he saw you gripping your phone with the picture on the screen.

"I’ll just keep it in my photo album. Wait, where are we going? You missed the turn! My apartment is there!”

"Relax! I know!" He kept his gaze forward and proceeded in a straight line.

"Then why aren’t you turning around? I’m calling the police.”

"And tell them what? Charles Monaco is kidnapping you? They won’t do anything.” He turned the blinker again and headed left; your apartment was no longer in sight as he went further away. "You owe me something. Remember when I told you I was in a rush after accidentally hitting you? I had a haircut appointment."

"So we are going to a hair salon? I haven’t been to one since I moved here.” You touched the part of your hair with your free hand while keeping your gaze on the window.

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Charles pulled the door open, allowing you to walk in first as he followed behind. The place was spacious, neat, and decorous. It reminded you a lot of your local hair salon. There were a few people inside getting their hair done, with a few workers walking by.

"Boujour! Est ce que je peux vous aider?" (Hello! Can I help you?)

"Um.." You turned around, waiting for him to take over.

Charles walked all the way to the hairdresser as she hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. The middle-aged woman then looked over to you and gave off a smile as she said something, as if asking the guy to take a seat while she walked back to get something.

You quickly made your way to Charles and tiptoed to whisper in his ear. "Is she your fan too?"

He looked at you and chuckled. "No, she’s my mom.”

"Are you being real? Stop joking around!”

He twirled the chair around and shrugged. "I’m being serious! She gave birth to me, Y/N."

"Oh.." You breathed out. The woman came back, and you stepped aside as she started working on the haircut while you took a seat on the couch at the back where you were facing them and still within the radius where you could hear them talk, though you didn’t understand anything except for the constant repetition of this one word.

"Elle pensait que je m'appelleais Charles Monaco." (She thought my name was Charles Monaco)

"Vraiment? D’où vient Charles Monaco?" (Really? Where did Charles Monaco come from?)

"Je ne sais pas, mais c’est mignon." (I don’t know but it’s cute)

For the next 20 minutes, you had been playing a game where you had to match the colours of the items together and hit the goal in order to go up to the next level. It was very distracting that you lost track of time and managed to go up to 50 levels ahead until he called your name.

"Making yourself at home? Should I pick you up tomorrow?” He laughed as you quickly stood up and walked over to him. "I’m just kidding."

"Charles!" His name was called out and you tilted your head,nodding at the older woman as she approached both of you with something in her hand. "Ceci est pour vous." (This is for you)

She handed you a small bag full of cute hair clips and kept on patting your arm as she said something to her son. "Ramenez-la à la maison en toute sécurité." (Bring her home safely)

"Thank you so much for these!”You grinned and turned to see that he was looking at you with a smile plastered on his face.

"Take care! Come if you need any haircuts, love!” She hugged you before making her way to treat her other customers as you left the store and headed back to the car with him.

"Oh my God, it’s so cute!" The soft pink hair claw caught your attention the most, so you picked it out and wrapped your hair around it, making your hair into a bun while looking at yourself through the sun visor. "It’s so cute, isn’t it?"

"You look cute with your hair up. Anyway, sorry for dragging you all the way here." He muttered.

"Give me a second. Where is it?" You frowned and dug your fingers inside the bag to find the matching pairs for the strawberry hair clips. "Oh, it’s okay! I got cute hair clips.” You shrugged it off and pin the matching clips to your face framing bang.

"I’m sending you off after this because I have a plan with my friends for dinner. Is it okay for you?” Charles found himself beaming at the sight of you trying every clip on, despite having your hand wrapped up in a bandage.

"What do you mean, is it okay for me? You are supposed to drop me off after your haircut.” The hair clips on your hair were taken off as you dropped them into the bag and left with just the hair claws to keep your hair up.

"Do you not have any plans with your friends?" He asked, picking a random topic to carry a conversation.

"Oh, I don’t have any friends in here.” You replied and played it off with a chuckle. Moving to a new country all on your own was such a new adventure for you that you barely had any time to find some new friends. Your mom kept on saying you weren’t able to find one because you kept on living in your own bubble, but how exactly did you start a friendship with someone who was never in the same school, class, or even neighbourhood with you? D9 you just go to their table and introduce yourself because surely no one would just barge their way into your life just to be friends? "You can just drop me there. I can walk my way up on my own because my hand is the one fully wrapped like a mummy. My legs are all safe and working very well." 

He chuckled as you gave a thumbs up before gathering your stuff in one hand and opening the door as he stopped by the side of the road.

"Are you sure you don’t need my help?"

"Yeup! All good. I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” You pushed the door closed and turned back to head to your apartment.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yeah?" Turning around, you bent down a little just to catch his gaze from inside the car.

"We are friends, right? I can be your first friend here in Monaco." 

"I’m not sure if you want to be friends with me. I’m not an athlete. I can’t even run 100 metres without dying.” You cracked a joke, but he wasn’t laughing along with you.

"I’m not just friends with athletes, silly. No one’s trying to challenge you to a 100-metre race."

"I’m not rich too.." You mumbled.

"Okay, I really want to know how your brain works because there is not a single hint of logic in everything you are saying right now. Do people in your country print out their bank statements first before accepting a friendship? No one’s flashing their wealth in here!"

You laughed at how frustrated he was. "Okay, sure! We are friends!"

"Which means I can text you, right?”

"Good luck in finding my phone number, Charles Monaco! Bye!" You waved and made your way back without looking back, thinking that would be the last time you would hang out with him again.

Without knowing he had your phone number saved on his phone with the help of the hospital’s staff earlier.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

✧.* tag list for p.2 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff

[buckys-little-belle]

ummm … can we get maybe a steve harrington x shy!reader again? maybe more of a situation at school and dustin calls steve really worried and that he needs to come help the reader? maybe they got a bad mark or something and broke down?

Wavy

Steve Harrington x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)

Warnings - Reader gets anxious over a test, talks of ‘chest’ feeling, aka an anxious weight on their chest, reader eats a candy cane.

Notes - This is short, but I feel like there’s hardly any Steve Harrington x Little!Reader out there and I really want to work on changing that! He’s such an obvious caregiver for those around him, and I just feel like he deserves the spotlight in the category.

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

- - - - - - -

The school day had been perfectly calm, up until english class, the teacher reminding the students about their test, on their class book, that day. Y/n was prepared, they had read the book in and out of class, front to back, upside down even, they knew what to do, the answers to all of the questions. But by the time the bell rang, letting the students know to move onto lunch, Y/n began to feel weird, their chest feeling heavy, as the stress from the test creeped in late.

Their books and pencils were quickly shoved into their backpack, the zipper half zipped, their sweater folded over their arm messily. Tears started to creep up on them, their hands hastily whipping them away as they fell. Before they knew it they were stood in front of the pay phone outside the school, students walking past to eat on the field and leave for the few minutes they had.

Y/n had slipped at least ten minuets ago into little space, the stress triggering their coping mechanism and helping sooth their thoughts, but the weird feeling in their chest stayed, and felt heavier and heavier, seemingly moving when they breathed. “Oh c’m on!” Y/n whisper yelled, their quarter falling from their hand before they could get it into the machine.

It took a few more tries, but eventually things worked themselves out, that was until Steve’s number was completely lost on Y/n, the numbers non existent in their mind. “Hey!” Dustin called from behind them, when they turned Dustin saw the distraught look on their face. Steve told him Y/n might need help at school sometimes, remembering where things were, or what class they had next when little, but right now they seemed like a fish out of water, and Dustin felt the same. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“No.” Y/n cried. “I needa call Stevie but I don’ ‘meber his number, ‘n it ate my money, I feel wavy, ‘n ‘m scared” Their sobs continued, tears free falling at this point.

“That’s okay.” Dustin tried not to freak out, reaching into his bag to pull out a small pencil case filled with things from Steve. A few quarters for Y/n emergency calls, a couple candies, bandaids, just things that Steve wanted to make sure were available. “I can call him. Here.” Dustin said, handing Y/n a candy cane, the arched treat one of their favourites, one Steve bought the whole town out of when christmas came so that Y/n would be happy all year round.

“Tanks.” They smiled, opening the candy right away, their tears still slowly rolling down their cheeks, their nose stuffy.

“Hey!” Dustin cheered on the phone, pointing to it and smiling so Y/n could see his happiness before turning to freak out. “Y/n needs you, I think they are dying, not dying, just not doing great, what does ‘I feel wavy mean? I gave them a candy cane, this is stressful, how do you do this? You know I have some toys at home, I should bri-“

“Put them on the phone Henderson.” Steve practically screamed.

“Right, sorry, here.” Dustin mumbled. “Y/n, Steve wants to talk to you.”

Y/n grabbed the phone, holding it to their ear. “Stevie?” They whispered.

“Hi Bean.” He cooed. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel wavy.” They sobbed, their hand once again whipping away their tears.

“I know, you’re feeling anxious huh Bean?” He asked, already grabbing his keys and getting ready to leave.

“Mhm.” Y/n was still crying, the emotions and lack of hug to much to handle in their distressed state. “I wan’, I wan’ to g’ home.”

“I know, can you sit with Dustin till I get there? I’m on my way Bean I promise.” He stressed.

“Yah, ‘kay Stevie.” Y/n whispered. “Lobe you.”

“Love you too Bean.”

Y/n hung the phone up, looking to Dustin. “Stevie says to wait for him here.” Y/n frowned.

“Okay?” Dustin half asked, watching Y/n sit in place, eating their candy cane while tears fell down their face, so distressed that he himself felt anxious.

- - - - - -

“Bean?” Steve called out, both Y/n and Dustin’s head turning in his voices direction. “Hi.” He said, his arms held out for a hug.

Y/n ran full throttle, their bag swooshing around on their back, landing in his arms tightly. “Missed you.” They cried.

“I know Bean.” Steve chuckled. “What happened hm?”

“‘s da book test ‘n english.” Y/n said, their words muffled in Steve’s shirt.

Steve just kissed the top of their head, pulling them from his body and sending Dustin a smile and a wave goodbye, the younger boy running off to lunch. “How about we go home?” Steve asked, Y/n’s eyes immediately lighting up. “I brought home some new movies from work I think you might like.” He smiled, Y/n mimicking him.

“‘kay, and ‘nother?” They asked, holding up their half eaten candy cane.

“When you finish that one we can talk.” Steve chuckled, knowing Y/n would fall asleep on the way home before they finished the one in their hand. Which, he was right. Y/n was out cold just a few minutes after leaving the school parking lot, he hoped that the feeling in their chest would fade after their nap, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing them cry again that day.

#steve harrington x little!reader #steve harrington x little reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve harrington #steve x little reader #steve x little!reader #steve x reader

[hotchs-big-hands]

why are you embarrassed that your mom actually got you stuff that you like

Oh! I don't mean embarrassed in a bad way! My sister was sitting there too when I opened and found the photo card and I made a loud squeak noise 💀💀💀💀💀 and when it came to the quarter zip my dad didn't understand why I was freaking out and my sister and mum were laughing til my sister showed a pic of Aaron in the quarter zip to him 😭 all in good fun tho I was just flustered that's all!

#anon ask #anon asks

[starlitangels]

Marked and Claimed

Imperium AU AU... enjoy! 2.3k words

CW: non-consensual trancing, biting, and feeding; also blood

—

Ignoring the commotion outside, I stretched my aching wrists and looked at my progress at scrubbing the floor of the Spire’s throne room. How long had I been doing this day in and day out? One year? Two? Ten? No... it couldn’t have been that long.

Could it?

I shook my head and went back to scrubbing.

Quinn’s fangs gleaming in the darkness. David’s sharp teeth tearing into him while I took care of the pair of cronies.

Quinn breaking away from David. His fangs sinking into my throat.

Darkness...

Then the Spire. Queen-Imperial Sofia’s cruel look when I regained consciousness to the Healer sealing my wounds up.

I tried not to blame David. It wasn’t his fault. Quinn torturing my friend wasn’t David’s fault. But sometimes... sometimes I couldn’t help but blame him. If he hadn’t had eyes for Queen Sofia’s son’s unempowered partner, maybe Quinn wouldn’t have tortured my friend. Maybe David wouldn’t have died. Maybe it would have been me instead. Maybe he’d be the one kneeling on the cold, hard floor with a large sponge and his magic muted. It was hard to mute a shifter or vampire’s magic, but possible.

I shifted my weight to make my knees ache less and sighed.

A tone dinged over the comms system, indicating an announcement. I curled in on myself, waiting for Damien’s sharp voice to order the Enforcers around again. Maybe... no. It was too much to hope that he’d order the servants to release their hold on my magic and let me fight. He knew I’d turn on him the moment I had my wolf back.

“Hello, Imperium,” a low, gravelly voice said. “Not a fittin’ name for long, but... it’ll do for now.” The accent was distinctly Southern. “My name’s Sam. I’m speakin’ to you from the royal quarters of the Imperium Spire.” My jaw dropped. Someone had breached all that security to get to Damien? Or was this Sam lying to freak out the fighters outside? “And your ex-king is currently lickin’ the dirt from between my boot treads.”

“What the hell?” I whispered, looking up at the speakers, as if I could see this Southern Sam through them. The servants who had been supervising me all did the same, as surprised as I was.

“And those of you who still have a view screen intact, feel free to watch,” he continued.

He kept going on, and I realized he was a Mass-Maker vampire. He declared himself King Samuel Collins of Dahlia, inviting other Mass-Makers to vy for territory outside the capital.

The servants who had been supervising me all rushed out of the throne room. None of them even ordering me to follow them back to my cell in the basement.

After a moment, I felt my magic flood back into my body. They were out of range.

I didn’t immediately move to get up and run away. I would have liked to, but my knees were so stiff from kneeling on the cold floor that they wouldn’t obey me without warming them up and stretching them out.

Still, I finished scrubbing my spot on the floor out of sheer, stubborn pride before hurling the stupid sponge back into the bucket of dirty, soapy water at full force. Once the bucket stopped wobbling from how hard the sponge struck it, I started stretching. Slowly, to not aggravate my poor, stiff joints.

Once the ache had eased, I pushed myself to my feet. “Okay,” I muttered. “Just like riding a bike.”

I bent forward. Arms out and ready to land on all-fours once my hands were clawed paws, and reached for my magic for the first time in... who knew how long, now. My Threads shuddered. They were stiff too from being completely unused for so long.

“C’mon, Tanker,” I growled. “Come on!”

I tried to shift again. My Threads crackled like old, dried out rubber bands.

“C’mon. You can do this. You can get outta here. Maybe Ash and Milo are still alive—” I ground my teeth. “I have to get home.”

I yanked on my Threads again, burning my Core hot.

“C’mon. C’mon, c’mooon—”

Zip!

A hand closed around my throat and I was slammed into the wall. “An’ just what do you think you’re doin’, darlin’?” That same Southern voice. Full of condescension. I gagged, scrabbling with broken nails at skin too tough for me to pierce, weakened as I was. “That piece-a jewelry around your ankle marks you as one of the criminal slaves. You try to shift, and you might damn near crush your ankle bones.”

His hand around my throat disappeared. I sagged to all fours and gasped for air.

With a clang, the ankle tracker’s pressure disappeared.

“Wh... why?” I choked out, looking up at him. “Why let me go?”

He scoffed. “I’m not. You’re a shifter. I recognize the aura—and that tattoo on your arm. Shaw Pack’s symbol, right?”

I looked at the moon—full, with a crescent carved out of one side. Tattooed to my deltoid when my wolf manifested. Claimed by the Shaw Pack. Gabe had been a good man in a bad world, trying to keep his wolves safe as best he could. But he’d had my arm tattooed with his claim before I could say “no” or “wait”. A blessing disguised as a curse at the time, I supposed.

“Yeah,” I replied.

The vampire’s silver gaze bored into me. “Hmm. Shaw Pack’s—mostly—still alive,” he said.

“If you’re not letting me go,” I ground out around gulping for air, “why remove the tracker?”

“I’m Sam,” he said.

“I heard,” I retorted.

“What do they call you?”

“Tank,” I replied.

He raised a brow. “What kinda person names their child ‘Tank’?”

“I never said that was my name,” I retorted, pushing to my feet finally. “You asked what they call me. And they call me Tank.”

Sam looked amused. “Hmm. And why’s that?”

I looked at my ragged tank top and half-shredded jeans. All the exposed scars on bare skin. “Take a guess.”

His eyes roved me. Slowly. 

I stayed standing where I was. I knew better than to try and outrun a vampire, and I couldn’t fight a Mass-Maker with an army at his disposal that he could invoke to overwhelm me. But tension coiled in my muscles, ready to lunge if I had to. In whatever direction.

A smile spread up his face as his fangs extended, pressing into his lower lip. “Oh, you’ll do nicely,” he said.

I couldn’t take a step back since I was already up against a wall, but I pressed my back to it out of instinct. “For... for what?” I asked, eyeing his fangs. Quinn’s face flashed through my mind’s eye, replacing Sam’s in front of me for an instant. I swallowed thickly, pressing one hand into the wall behind me like I could melt into it. I knew how to phase through clothing when shifting, but not solid stone.

Sam folded his arms, regarding me. He stopped taking in my scars and sized up the rest of me. “Well, every king needs a trusted general, right?”

“You don’t know me. ‘Trusted’ is beyond a stretch.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure I can trust you to do as I say if I also warn you that steppin’ outta line will bring nothin’ but pain.”

I looked at my scars again. “Pain’s an old friend,” I said softly.

“Not to you, darlin’. No.” Sam shook his head. “To that pack-a yours.”

My blood ran cold.

Sam’s smile widened. “Ah. Struck a nerve, did I?”

“Why me? Why not one of your progeny who can’t lie to you and you can ensure will follow your orders?”

Sam made a face. “Where’s the fun in that, darlin’? You’re tough, given those scars. I imagine you’re capable.” He leaned closer to me. I smelled blood on his breath. “And sometimes,” he whispered, “it’s more fun to make someone dance just because I can, rather than because I’m forcin’ ‘em to with magic.”

“Piss off,” I muttered, no real fight behind the words.

“Careful, darlin’,” Sam warned, pinching my chin and forcing me to face him. “Your friends’ lives may hang in the balance if you push me.”

I snarled. “Don’t. Touch. My. Pack.”

He let me go forcefully, knocking my head into the stone wall. “Well now. That all depends on you, doesn’t it?”

I bared my teeth. Sam did the same.

“Let’s put it this way,” he growled out, “serve under me as my general as a shifter, or serve under me as my general as a vampire.”

My stomach dropped straight through the floor.

He pinched my chin again. “That said... you would make a gorgeous thrall,” he mused. “Pretty little thing like you? All musclebound but sittin’ in my lap on that throne, barely wearin’ a thing...” He glanced over his shoulder at the throne and tsked. “Ain’t gonna deny that’s quite the temptation.”

I ripped my chin out of his grip with a jerk of my head. “Fine,” I spat. “I’ll be your general. As a shifter.”

He smiled that fanged smile again. “Knew you’d see things my way, darlin’.”

I clenched my jaw.

“But first, to Mark you as mine,” he said.

I couldn’t dodge out of the way fast enough. He grabbed me by the shoulders, sinking his fangs into my neck. My shocked scream couldn’t make it past those teeth.

I knew the pulling sensation of him drinking my blood too well.

Quinn’s laughter ringing sinisterly in my ear. David’s bark as he tried to rip the leech’s throat out—

Then Sam’s fangs were gone and he let me go.

I stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape, covering where he bit me with one hand. I didn’t feel any blood on my fingers. He’d healed me as he extracted his fangs.

He licked my blood off his fangs and lips, smiling smugly. “Damn, darlin’,” he said. “Are all shifters that tasty or is it just you?”

I didn’t answer.

“A’right. Next order-a business.” His silver eyes flared red. “Hold still.” The trance swept over me. I couldn’t move. I tried, but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate. “Markin’ you lets other Mass-Makers and vamps know you’re mine... but non-vamps won’t. Yet.”

He trailed the nail of his pointer finger over the tattoo on my arm, leaning his face close to it.

“Mm... what’s one more scar?” he mused quietly.

“Don’t rip off my tattoo,” I choked out.

“Rip off?” he quoted incredulously. “Darlin’, what sorta monster do you think I am?”

I didn’t have a safe answer to that, so I didn’t say anything.

He exhaled out his nose in what was almost a chuckle. “I’m not gonna rip off your tattoo. But... this is gonna hurt. In order to leave a scar, it has to.”

Before I could protest, he sunk his fangs into my deltoid. I almost screamed, but swallowed it down.

He ripped his fangs out of my deltoid, letting blood rush down my arm from the punctures. He’d put one fang at the top and bottom of the line art of my moon. The rest of the tattoo was left perfectly alone and intact.

He licked my blood off his fangs and lips again. “Never gonna get over that taste. But we can talk about that later.” He winked at me—

And the trance broke.

I slouched a bit, covering the wounds he’d left on my arm with one hand to staunch the blood. I glared at him but didn’t say anything. Another claim laid on me before I could say “no” or “wait.”

I doubted this one would be a blessing disguised as a curse later, though.

—

I stood behind where Sam was seated on the throne to the right. He hadn’t stopped, in the last few weeks, making comments about me sitting on his lap with barely any clothes on while on the throne, but I’d been ignoring them.

In some ways, he wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.

In others, he was worse.

The door to the throne room opened.

A vampire pushed in a familiar figure.

“Asher!” I exclaimed, surprise making me unable to stop myself.

My friend’s amber eyes widened. “Tank!”

He rushed at me.

In an instant, Sam was blocking his path. “That’s close enough,” he snarled. He shot a glance at me over his shoulder. “You weren’t kiddin’ about the nickname, darlin’.”

I shrugged but didn’t reply.

“Tank—what—how the hell are you still alive?” Asher demanded, leaning around Sam to see me. “I buried you.”

“I don’t remember. Everything went black and I woke up in the Spire to Healers putting me back together.”

“And you’ve been here ever since?” Asher’s eyes were watery.

I pointed to the scarring around my ankle from the tracker’s rubbing burns and nodded. “Two years.”

“Oh my God...” Asher whispered.

“That’s enough,” Sam put in forcefully. “I didn’t summon you here, Alpha, for you to play catch-up with my general.”

“Alpha?” I demanded.

“General?” Asher repeated in the same tone as mine.

Sam leveled a sharp, metallic glare at me. I straightened my spine and stood at reluctant attention. Asher watched my movements and a muscle flickered in his jaw.

Sam sat back on his throne. “Now. We have business to discuss about your pack remainin’ in Dahlia,” he remarked. His eyes met mine and a trance hit me again. “C’mere, darlin’.”

My muscles obeyed even though my brain rebelled.

I circled the throne and sat in his lap. Asher bared his teeth, but didn’t move closer.

“There we go,” Sam remarked, putting an arm nonchalantly around my waist and relaxing against the back of the throne. “Now. Let’s chat, shall we?”

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose @mainhoesstuff 

#Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Sam #Redacted Darlin' #Sam Collins #Darlin' #Sam #featuring #Asher #Starlit Fic

[juliettethemuppet]

genre : ! fluff !

paring: eddie munson + fem!cheerleader

warnings : language, talks of drugs (weed)

disclaimers / summary: after becoming distant with your middle school best friend, which you end up having a drug deal with. then soon leads to more then a drug deal.

a/n : this is kinda messy since it is my first fanfic in like forever!! but i think im getting the hang of it now? i think i will do more parts to this since it’s quite short!!

part 2: coming soon…:)

☆✶⋯⇌⊸|⋄✧⋄|⊸⇋⋯✶☆|☆✶⋯⇌⊸|⋄✧⋄|⊸⇋⋯✶☆

☆✶⋯⇌⊸|⋄✧⋄|⊸⇋⋯✶☆|☆✶⋯⇌⊸|⋄✧⋄|⊸⇋⋯✶☆

you were sitting with your annual group of people at lunch, the cheerleaders and jocks. you were silently eating your lunch, with the muffled sounds of jason complaining about eddie munson, “the freak.” until your friend whispered into your ear “are you gonna get the you know, today?” you paused for a moment trying to comprehend what she had said. “yeah, yeah i am. quit bugging!” you whispered back mockingly. she rolled her eyes and then began blabbing about this guy she saw at the mall.

after school

the school bell loudly rang through out the school. you quickly picked up your things and shoved them into your locker. you began walking towards the woods behind the school. you walked down the chipped stairs that led to the woods, as soon as your sneakers hit the ground the sound of leaves crunching followed after. you saw the abandoned looking bench, where you would told to be at. so you sat down, glancing around to see if anyone was there. you zipped open your backpack and grabbed a book to past the time with. the great gatsby is what you have been reading, until you heard a rustle of leaves and looked up.

a long haired boy appeared from behind the trees startling you quite a bit. you closed your book and marked where you had left off. it was eddie munson, he came to sit across from you.

you’ve known a quite bit about eddie munson, mostly from what jason complained about annoyingly. or the fact you used to be friends back in middle school. as soon as high school rolled along you two went completely opposite directions. him being a “freak” and you being a “popular girl” if you will.

“hey y/n..” eddie announced looking at you. “hi eddie!” you say giving the sweetest grin ever.

right then and there eddie just melted in your presence.

“what book ya’ reading?” he questioned trying to get a glimpse of the cover whilst you had a hand over it. “oh yeah, um…the great gatsby.” you murmured while taking your hand off the book and turning it around for eddie to see. there was a moment of silence, you couldn’t tell if he was about to make fun of you or was just looking at the cover. “yeah, classic i know.” you blurted breaking the silence. “nah all good, just thought the cover was cool. but anyways…it’s been a while y/n.” he quietly said twisting his rings around his fingers.

he began to get flustered at this very conversation. although you were two were just friends in middle school, he quite did miss you. and so did you, but you both silently agreed that you two were just different and parted ways. his hands began to get sweaty, and he kept getting lost in your eyes.

“mhm…it has. you know, i’ve missed you all these years. you were a pretty great fiend back in the day…” you murmured, you weren’t scared of saying what ever was on your mind and eddie knew that. he got even more flustered as his cheeks went from pale to a light pink. “yeah, yeah umm…ya’ know i’ve missed you too.” he hesitated. “okay, so back on this whole deal thing! i just need a quarter ounce, please.” you said stammering over your words.

you felt bad for cutting the other conversation off because you really did miss him. but if you didn’t get this weed, your friends would be balling their eyes out. and saying that i ruined the whole party or what not.

“yeah, so uhhh…let’s go for $50?” he asked opening the worn out tool box. he waved the small bag of weed around for a moment. “oh yes! let me get the cash…hold on!” you blurted out quickly unzipping your bag and handing him, a slightly crumbled, $50 bill. you gave him a warming grin and grabbed the bag from him.

holy shittttt he was kicking and screaming on the inside

you tapped the cover of your book before asking, “so uh…maybe you wanna hangout sometime? ya’ know like the old days?” there was a moment of silence seeming so long until he blurted out “yeah! no, no yeah i would love that” flashing a slight grin. “i don’t know…i just never thought i would be doing a drug deal with the y/n l/n.” he said following not long after. you giggled at this remark, “never thought i’d buy it from the eddie munson.” you responded, you could feel your cheeks going red from this whole conversation. you grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down your number before you could forget. you handed it to eddie caressing his hand ever so slightly making him freeze up. “that’s my number! call it tonight, alright?” you announced getting up from the bench. he just shook his head and watched you disappear between the trees.

he couldn’t believe that you, you wanted to hangout again. he always thought that he was a total freak to you ever since high school came along.

#stranger things 4 #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #chrissy cunningham #fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson fanfic

[buzzsaw-burne]

Anyway Everest is the quiet and diligent Rakke Town groundskeeper who keeps things neat and tidy. Duties include cleaning up the general area surrounding the living quarters, but also communal areas such as the offices and visitor center. They're assumed to be standoffish, but they just have one of those resting faces, especially when they're super focused on their work. Turns out their actually a very nice individual who's honestly way too forgiving.

They find out about the kids whole dragon secret and agree to keep the secret IF the kids help them get a dragon friend, because they actually really like dragons and would like dragon friend very much.

They eventually find them a pal in a Hailraiser (made up species) in the Ice Realm. He is given the name Frostbite. Everest leaves the kids to their devices, only appearing occasionally to offer big sibling type advice, or else does a little zipped lip motion to show they're not going to go blabbing if they catch the kids sneaking around. They just continue to do their Rakke Town duties, and then go to the Ice Realm to visit Frostbite, hang out, give them snacks, etc. The kiddos forgot to mention there was some freak living in the Ice Realm, however. Thanks kids.

Conflict arises when Frostbite is captured, and Everest strikes a deal with Buzzsaw to pass any information that might be helpful for general trapping and training of dragons that the kids have shared with them if he leaves their dragon pal alone. This is pre him stealing Tom's book, so the deal is agreeable for now. The deal might be dropped after getting the book, who knows.

I wish the show had actual consequences for the actions of...anyone. THe way the shows written now, Everest doing this would be waved off. With consequences, they might be in hot water for also keeping the secret of the freak in the ice realms. At that point they'd probably cast their lot in with Sledkin and Linda to join Buzzsaw, not for nefarious means but in a bit to help fix things from the inside. And possibly offer a positive voice who's willing to help to keep their dragon and Rakke Town safe. Man on the inside kind of Deal. I also feel we could use them to offer positive spins that might aid in a better transition into episode 6. They wouldn't have involvement, but Sledkin doesn't add anything on that front and Linda (bless her I love her) is too much of a pushover.

#it makes more sense in my head #episode 6 is wildly ooc but it could work if we fix a few things #im not saying everest is the fix i just like shoving ocs places #i do think another episode between 5 and 6 to show more of the partnership btwn buzzsaw and sledkin would have helped

[ssahotchnerxx]

Aaron Hotchner in 5x21 “Exit Wounds”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #cm #5x21 #exit wounds #that freaking quarter zip #sit down and shut up #what an iconic episode #i love one man #he looks so cozy in this episode

[babblydrabbly]

It’s time for another

✨ Late Night Thought ✨

(I need an official name for this bc I bombard ur box wayyy too much & bc *sighs* reality is absolute garbage. Plus, I enjoy chatting & thinking with cool people 😎) So, *claps hands together* on to it then. Ok, *clears throat* here goes:

Domestic!Rick x the Reader

(I feel that should be a thing, btw)

Takes place after Rick’s officially retired from his Squad days [& after he survived death, helped take down Waller by anonymously ratting her out to the public, & “came back from the dead.” But, that’s another concept for another day…. ]

It’s just him & the reader & their 2 large fur babies. 🐾 🐶

Every morning consists of kisses & hugs & delicious breakfast & warm coffee. But on weekends & holidays, it’s even better.

The reader has her own busy career & hobbies going on while, despite being retired, Rick does his own thing. It’s either desk jobs (but that might be too boring for him) or lucrative hobbies. Or maybe he teaches. Maybe he went back to school to teach. (Not gonna lie, I can see that. History, specifically, bc the boy’s probably a big ol’ nerd is secret.) 🤷🏽‍♀️ The boy is just doing something that’s calming, enjoyable, & keeps his mind, body, & spirit going while also making money.

Bc of their busyness, both absolutely cherish the days/time they have off & with each other.

That means staying in bed. Enjoying coffee outside while admiring nature. Walking the dogs together. Taking their own long walks together. Cooking & baking & dancing. Just being together & at peace.

When it’s cold, they both bundle up. Rick’ll just wear sweatpants & either his quarter zip or one of his old hoodies to brave the cold. He doesn’t care for a jacket or socks while hanging out on the deck with the dogs. The Reader thinks he’s nuts for this.

They love to stay in & chill out. Watch movies or freak out about their favorite show for the billionth time (they’ve seen all the seasons at least 50 times already but it’s still their favorite). Sometimes, one or both will fall asleep. If it’s the Reader, Rick carries her upstairs & crawls into bed with her. He watches as she breathes, in & out, brushes a hair to the side, & kisses her head before wrapping himself around her & letting his eyes shutter for the night.

Rick loves this. He loves all of it. He couldn’t have asked for anything more. It always feels like a second chance for him. But, that’s because it is. A chance to start over, start fresh. A chance to have the life he always wanted but never thought he could have. A life of pure peace.

Good night… ✌🏽😘😴

Oh my god 🥺 this is just so damn perfect 💞💖💓 the tenderness. I think you pretty much created perfection, so here’s just some emphasis on your beautiful idea:

Domestic!Rick Headcanons || Rick Flag x Reader

You and Rick Flag really wonder if he’ll ever adjust in the beginning. He never planned for it really. After Corto Maltese, his ‘resignation’ is so sudden he worries who he’ll be without the purpose he’s been given all these years.

It’s you who suggests the hobbies. You made enough money for the both of you, but Rick fear the aimlessness. He was tempted to use his experience to delve into less legal jobs if that’s what it took to not feel like such a fish out of water in a civilian world.

But he spends a few months recovering with you at home, and the way he acclimates to it surprises the both of you. There’s so many things Rick forgot about.

Breakfast from scratch. Taking care of the front and backyard. “Someone’s gotta do the laundry and walk the dogs.” He tells you when you ask him if he’s thought of what he wants to do again. You’re a busy spouse. You’ve got an administrative position you’ve been working for ages, and when you get ready in the morning nowadays, you never thought Rick would be there everyday to kiss you goodbye.

Your house is his house now, and you always sigh about how you wish you had the time or patience to really make it a home. Rick starts spending his days fixing things— He hires professionals in the beginning, but then he starts learning how to fix the place up himself; installing new hardwood, building the shed in the back. His little touches take over the house.

Rick discovers fulfilling ways to keep his hands occupied that don’t involve taking a life, but of creation instead.

Rick loves reader’s golden lab, but you suggests maybe he should get one of his own. He ventures to pound one day and spots a young Newfoundland dog in the corner of one cell, saliva pooling at its mouth and its haunches drawn— its careless owners gave him up after a biting mishap and left it outside the pound without so much as a note. At two years old and 130 pounds, the staff didn’t even get a name. Rick signs the papers the same day.

Rick Flag is a disciplined man, entirely set on making sure his pet is just as controlled. That idea gets scraped after about a month. Everyday Rick spent training Charlie to be an obedient guard dog could be spent soaking in the sun out on the deck, or laying on the couch watching television together instead. Rick can’t even stick to calling him by his real name— you always hear Rick calling for Bud or Bub or My guy around the house.

Rick doesn’t expect to have the patience for watch television either. You dissolve into the laugh-crying kind of tears when Rick, whose been so out of the loop he hasn’t even heard any spoilers for most major shows, shoots up off the couch after a particularly dismal season finale of a show one night. You watches him pace the living room at 11PM, ranting about how the show runners completely disrespected the time of anyone watching to just end it like that.

His conviction is ridiculous, given the subject, and you smile sleepily, head in the crook of your arm as you watch Rick care about sometime so funny, so not important. It’s says everything about where he is now. Where he’s finally allowed himself to be.

Rick used to be a light sleeper. An operative can’t snore or sleep through danger and make it out alive in his line of work. But as time passes, the tense notion of rest changes for Rick. There’s still the terrors— the subconscious, terrible things that will never truly leave him. But there’s also you, there, in the middle of the night, and more importantly in the morning, when a new day brings another chance at life with you. Rick begins to embrace nights of restful sleep, and the idea of all this being the kind of paradise he deserves.

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag x you #headcanons #femalefilmaker #ask #babblyanswers #lorecraft #for Bub

[watermelonlipstick]

Stabbed

This was written following an anon request that read as follows:

Hello sweetie, can I please request a dean x reader one shot in which she gets stabbed during a rough hunt and it's a race against time to save her (maybe Sam is the one driving and dean gets in the backseat with her?) And dean is scared of losing her and he has a panic attack after she wakes up but she manages to calm him down?

Obviously everyone’s experiences with panic attacks are different, but I tend to think if Dean had one it might manifest more externally as a violent outburst; I think he would subconsciously feel like it’s a more acceptable way to express ~freaking the fuck out~. This fic is sort of loosely set during early season 3, partly because that contextualization made sense to me with what you were describing and partly because I feel like that tenderhearted, slightly-less-jaded Dean would be more likely to allow himself to be perceived as vulnerable in such a fraught moment. 

I’ve also taken a couple liberties with the medical situation described for literary purposes. 😋 Don’t @ me, I know this isn’t exactly how hypovolemic shock plays out.

Title: Stabbed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4206

Summary: Dean’s anxiety gets the best of him when the reader appears fatally injured on a hunt, and is soothed only after the danger is gone. 

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence, description of panic attack, swearing

           Sam slammed the door once Dean had hauled you into the backseat, propping you up like a mannequin next to him on the bench. Your vision was starting to fade in and out, but the sense memory of the muscles in Dean’s side and the leather seat underneath you were comforting anyway. It seemed like the car started flying before Sam had even closed the driver’s side door and you tried hard to focus on Dean’s babbling.

           “You’ll be able to give me shit about this one forever, right, kid? Should’ve listened to you, you said they would’ve left the barn by the time we got there. Always so smart, when am I going to learn?” He was trying to chuckle but it came out breathy and wrong, Dean never quite able to actually hit the casual affect he wanted in moments like this. Honestly, it made you more nervous, knowing that for injuries he wasn’t worried about he wanted to look over you with clinical precision, chastise you for being careless. He only did this pretend calm when he was trying to keep it together—you used to think it was only for you or Sam but after a few years and more than a few bad scares you started to understand it for the defense mechanism it truly was. Not that you needed extra evidence that this was bad; you could feel the life leeching out of you like a water balloon with a pinprick leak.

           “Hey, come on��open your eyes for me, lemme see those stunners,” he said, guiding your chin up where you had begun to slump onto his shoulder. “Perfect, yeah, just like that. Hey, stay with me—”

           You mustered up everything you had to swim to the surface of the sleep-darkness your body so desperately wanted and straightened your spine to take a deep breath. Bad idea, the wounds in your side feeling like they were splitting you clean in half even through the haze. At least it woke you up for a moment to catch Dean’s eyes, fiery with panic even as he tried to smile.

           “Dean, I—” you started, feeling like your throat was full of broken glass.

           “Babe, don’t try to talk, it’s okay, you can tell me whatever it is when we get to a hospital.”

           Sam turned his head away from the rural highway the Impala was absolutely sailing down to look back at his older brother. “We’re hours away from a hospital, we’ve gotta go back to the motel,” he said, low and serious.

           “If we’re hours away from a hospital then I guess we’re driving for a couple hours, aren’t we, Sammy?” Dean was getting worse and worse at covering the hard edge of fear-driven anger in his voice as the seconds ticked by.

           “Dean, we—she’s—we don’t have a couple hours.”

           Dean closed his eyes tight and set his jaw firm. “We’re going to a fucking hospital.”

           His brother swerved deftly around a giant pothole, somehow able to turn the wheel so slightly that the car’s path barely changed. “Listen to me. She can’t bleed like that for long enough to get to a hospital. We have to try to handle this one ourselves or there’s no chance—”

           The whole conversation felt like it was happening to someone else, your senses starting to detach from your body, and you couldn’t hold onto those trains of thought for long enough to process them. You were forced to expend all the energy you had on what you needed to say, and reached for Dean’s hand with a weak grip.

           “Dean, look at me.”

           He sounded like a hurt puppy when he said, “please,” and you knew he was asking you not to make him listen but you were worried you were out of options, out of time. That frantic smile looked almost crazed as it started to quiver on his face, eyelashes clumping with moisture.

           “Sam, can you hear me too?” you asked, frustrated in an abstract way at how frail your voice sounded.

           He gave one tight nod in the rearview mirror with a jaw set firm as iron, and when he said “Yes—yeah,” it was choked.

           “I love you idiots so much. These last—ow, Jesus—however many years have been some of the most fun I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Sam, I—you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I—fuck,” you winced, something about the breath you took to keep from crying sending an electric jolt of pain through you and doubling you over.

           “It’s okay, I know,” Sam said up into the rearview mirror, and you couldn’t tell if the way the headlights were falling on the trees impossibly fast was something about your sight being distorted, because if it wasn’t then you were surprised the Impala hadn’t broken some kind of land speed record. You made a mental note to tell Dean to start drag racing before remembering you might not tell him anything ever again. What you were nearly positive you weren’t imagining were the break in Sam’s voice or the reflection of tears on his cheek as he locked eyes with you in the mirror.

           By the grace of whatever higher power the Winchesters were on the good side of at the time, you connected with him in the reflection, were able to absorb some fraction of the bone-crushing, pick-you-up-off-your-feet hug you wanted so badly from Sam in that moment. You tried to be thankful for what you got and drifted back to Dean’s gaze.

           “And Dean, baby,” you continued, some bizarre flutter of second wind giving you enough force to clench your hand tightly around his and remember to keep your breaths shallow, keep talking even if your eyes couldn’t quite focus. “This was not your fault, you gotta—promise—me you know it wasn’t.”

           “I, ah—” he faltered, throat vibrating as he tried to keep the inevitable tears down.

           You gripped his hand tighter, felt your fingers going numb, and tried to smile hoping it didn’t look too grotesque on a face almost certainly drained of lifelike color. “C’mon, gotta obey a last wish, right?” The grief-stricken chuckle of surprise that dark joke punched out of Dean opened the floodgates, and tears burst forward to stream down his face. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

           You’d thought of some goofy punchline to try to give, some ‘no sleeping with random girls for at least a year, want you guys to pour one out for me every day’ bullshit but seeing the love and pain in Dean’s eyes as your vision came in and out zapped it away. “I love you baby. I just—thank you for—everything—and—”

           It was getting too hard to take even those shallow breaths, your hearing gone fuzzy around the edges, and the last thing you remembered was seeing a streetlight on the edge of town as Dean took your face in his hands, “I know, kid, I know, come on—please,” fading out like he was being zipped away through a long tunnel.

           You were completely motionless in Dean’s arms, pulse gone thready enough that Dean was having a hard time finding it through the rumble of the car.

           “Fuck, Sam, FUCK!” Dean screamed, one hand wrapped up in the hair at the back of your neck as he fought desperately to keep you upright.

           Sam muscled through the lump in his throat and tried to stay focused. “When we get there you need to be ready to go, okay, Dean? HEY, listen to me. Don’t quit on me like this,” he barked, trying to catch his brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror without taking his focus off the road, terrified at the speed of the Impala and the potential of repeating what had happened the last time he’d had someone he loved bleeding out in the backseat.

           The car skittered around two corners and Sam prayed as hard as he had ever prayed for anything that there weren’t any Keystone cops looking to meet their month’s ticket quota by hanging around dark parking lots with radar guns, willed Dean to stop punching the window of the car with the hand that wasn’t clutching your head to his chest. He couldn’t decide if he thought it would’ve been better to have Dean drive, if he would’ve been able to hold it together any better than Dean was right now, if Dean could’ve focused if he was driving and not feeling you drift in his arms. There wasn’t time to figure it out and it ultimately didn’t matter, his brother turning into a bomb in the backseat and Sam needed to figure out a way to funnel Dean’s sheer panic back into the denial that would fuel him to keep moving, do anything to keep you alive, regardless of whether there was any hope left.

           “It’s not over, you’ve gotta keep it together. She needs you. See, we’re right around—"

           But he didn’t get to finish through the flurry of action as he pulled into the motel. He careened the Impala straight up to the door of the room, more than half of the car parked over a strip of grass intended to make the nondescript building feel more homey. By the time he’d torn the keys from the ignition Dean was practically leaping out of the backseat, carrying you into the room a quarter step after Sam half-busted the door open, laying you on a bed and tearing your t-shirt off with his bare hands like a cheap wrestling gimmick.

           Sam didn’t bother closing the motel door, moving too fast to care as he ripped a cork out of whiskey bottle with his teeth and poured it all over your now-exposed side, grimacing with nausea at the way it didn’t make you draw back in pain even a little. Dean tried his best to thread a needle with floss and remember whether it was better or worse that the blood was still flowing fast and bright red out of those stab wounds rather than slowing or oxidizing—this is bush league shit Dad pounded in years ago why can’t I remember fucking any of it? His hands shook with too much adrenaline to get the floss through the needle but Sam was already working on patching the biggest wound, tying knots with the rapid precision of a surgeon.

           It was only when he started getting in Sam’s way that the younger Winchester said anything more, encouraged that Dean was at least trying to pull himself together. He began talking through the stitches, muttering when he had to pull one tight with his teeth.

           “We—Dean, look at me.” Sam drilled into him with those brackish eyes, struggling to maintain the appearance of being in control that his brother needed of him when he could feel you going cold underneath his fingertips. “We’re going to need to give her a lot of fluids when she wakes up; all we have is beer. Go get some stuff for her to drink—electrolytes, she’ll need electrolytes.”

           “I’m not going to fucking leave, asshole!” Dean was strung out and not even pretending to hide it anymore, voice taking on that juvenile squeak Sam had only heard a handful of times since Dean was a teenager.

           He took a deep breath in an effort to soothe himself before speaking as clearly and firmly to Dean as possible, no room for negotiation. “Dean. This is not helping. The best thing you can do for her is to go get some fluids. Gatorade, OJ, bananas too, if they have them. She’ll need iron but we can deal with other food once she wakes up.”

           “What if she doesn’t—” Dean half-moaned, sounding like he’d been struck by something that was sucking all the oxygen from his lungs, looking like he was on the last ten feet of a hundred-mile race.

           “She’s going to wake up.”

           And Sam’s stubbornness actually did help Dean a bit in that moment, knowing that even if his life was about to change radically, that never would. “Go get some fucking Gatorade.”

           By the time Dean came back—arms filled with so many bags of sports drinks that it would be comical in any other context—his brother had stitched up every wound, cleaned off most of the blood, and put all your limbs atop high stacks of pillows in an attempt to get as much blood to your vital organs as possible. Dean was near catatonic with the singular focus of a task, which was Sam’s intention. One thing at a time.

           After about five minutes of sitting alongside Sam watching you, thick, viscous panic bubbled back up to the surface.

           At first, he was muttering like he was talking to himself. “She told me, she fucking told me they wouldn’t be in the barn anymore, I didn’t listen. I should’ve been right behind her, Sam, what the fuck was I thinking—she was—she—she was alone, they wouldn’t have—” and then the way his voice built to a fever pitch matched his body, Dean perched on the mattress like a sailboat in a tempest, slammed against invisible waves of panic.

           “It wasn’t your fault, Dean. You couldn’t have known—”

           “She was alone against five of them, Sam, do you get that? I left her fucking ALONE!” Dean wailed, springing forward from the bed with eruptive energy and bashing the nightstand lamp hard enough that its base shattered against the opposite wall, coming clean out of the socket as easily as if it hadn’t been plugged in. Sam flinched but didn’t get up, instead taking a quick visual inspection that no shards of ceramic somehow bounced back to cut your still body. By the time he glanced up again he only had a millisecond to react as Dean threw a chair from the kitchenette against the wall, exploding the mirror there into shimmering beads of glass and ricocheting back, forcing Sam block it with a forearm lest it hit him or you.

           “DEAN, enough!” he yelled, crossing over to his brother with a few powerful strides and grappling with him, battling to keep Dean still as the older of the Winchester brothers fought to destroy the room to match the chaos in his mind. Sam knew exactly what was going on, the way Dean’s brain converted fear to rage, but hated when his brother got like this, not only because it cut so deep to see him in pain but because the explosiveness was so similar to the knock-down drag-outs they’d grown up with, made it impossible to try to fix the root of the problem.

           Sam tackling Dean to the ground was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

           “Do I pull this shit when you guys are sleeping?” you croaked from the mattress, trying to sit up and immediately abandoning that plan, stilling yourself and holding your breath until the pain settled a fraction.

           Sam and Dean scrambled to get to their feet and ran over to you, hovering over the bed looking like their backs had a light dusting of glitter rather than a million tiny shards of glass.

           “What’re—are you okay? What do you remember?” Sam blurted out, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade out of a plastic bag and cracking it open for you. He snatched a pillow and helped you sit up slowly, jamming it under your head so you could drink.

           “Well, I’ve definitely felt better,” you tried to chuckle, but the tension it caused in your abdominal muscles made you wince. “I’m really sorry, you guys, I shouldn’t have—” you began, immediately stopped by the way Sam and Dean shook their heads, sucked on their teeth.

           “I’m—ah,” Sam started, smiling self-deprecatingly through the shake in his voice and looking down at the ground for a beat with his tongue in his cheek. It was like his body knew that the worst of the crisis had passed and refused to let him hide his emotions for one second further. After a second he met your eyes again, faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “I’m really glad you’re up.”

           Behind him, Dean collapsed into himself, his expression simultaneously complete relief and like he’d seen a ghost. You peered around Sam to meet his gaze. “Hey, dork,” you breathed, unable to come up with anything to match the weight of the moment.

           He opened his mouth a few times and couldn’t find anything either, wincing and biting his lip hard as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out.

           As always, Sam knew what Dean needed and snatched the car keys off the table as his brother tried in vain to keep his restless limbs still. He gazed at you with such naked thankfulness it made you smile involuntarily. “I’m going to see how much red meat I can find you, I’ll be right back, okay? Drink as many of these as you can and don’t stand up alone.” You nodded gratefully to him as he backed out the door.

           When Sam left, Dean still shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clenching and unclenching his hands until he ultimately jammed them deep into the pockets of his coat with enough force that it shook loose almost all of the glass, sending it floating to the ground around him as if he was a mirage. You could see, even as he stood a few paces away from the bed, that his breathing was quickened from the rapid, shallow movements of his chest and neck. “I’m—ah, I didn’t think—I shouldn’t have—” he stammered against a jaw locked shut tensely enough to make the muscles bulge out of his cheeks, and the lack of the self-assuredness that was normally so Dean to you made him seem unbelievably young, made you want to leap across the room and wrap him up in your arms. As it was, you beckoned him over with a shaky hand.

           He walked over to you hesitantly, only sitting down on the side opposite your injuries when you patted the sheets next to you. Awkwardly trying to move your torso as little as possible, you tossed the pillows on that side to the floor and motioned for him to lay down.

           “I don’t want to hurt—”

           “I’ll be fine. Please?”

           Reluctantly taking off his coat and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, he gingerly tucked himself under your arm and laid his head on your chest. You faintly dragged your fingertips down his back, waiting for his heartbeat and uneven, shallow breathing to slow down. When they didn’t and all you felt was a spreading wetness on the remaining upper half of t-shirt you still had, you twisted laboriously to see Dean’s face.

           Tears streamed down onto you, Dean biting his lip so hard to keep quiet you were shocked you couldn’t see blood, the whites of his teeth almost matching the pressure-blanched skin.

           “Oh, Dean,” you hummed, pulling him close to you with your one arm. “Babe, I’m here, I’m right here. Everything’s okay; I’m okay, you get to treat me like a princess for a few days and I’ll learn for the hundredth time that I shouldn’t go off by myself.”

           “I—I thought you were gone,” Dean whispered between stunted sobs breaking the words off in short staccato, still fighting to speak as though he wasn’t crying even as his tears soaked you.

           You craned your neck slowly to kiss the top of his head. “Not gone, right here. Always going to be right here.”

           “You were bleeding so mu—just like Sam, it was just like when Sam—” he faltered, speaking slowly to try to grab the reins of his voice as it shook.

           “Not just like Sam, baby, I’m still here. Everyone’s okay. And Sam’s okay too, right?” You waited for him to confirm what you knew was true and emphasize your point, drawing back to meet his gaze when he didn’t. “Right?”

           Reluctantly, Dean nodded. The redness around his eyes made his irises seem almost unreal in electric green contrast and you couldn’t believe you were so close to never seeing them again. His lashes were even darker than normal, spiky black frames formed with salty tears like cartoonish mascara. You waited a beat then let him settle back into your chest before continuing, feeling the choke-hiccupping of his breath stop even if it stayed rapid. “Everyone’s okay. You’re okay,” you hummed into his hair. “You’re okay, baby.”

           The two of you stayed like that until Dean’s breathing finally steadied, waiting past the clearly forced long held breaths and through to the point that he genuinely seemed like he’d hit the smooth rhythm you knew so well. “How are you feeling?” you murmured.

           “Like a bitch,” he grumbled softly against your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, thankful beyond anything for the glint of humor back in Dean, that shimmer of normalcy returning.

           “Sorry for scaring you.”

           “I’m never fucking letting you out of my sight again,” he said, words still sticky with swirling emotion and muffled by his cheek pressed against you. You knew he was only partly joking but also that now was not the time to push back, just kissing his hair in response.

           There was no way it took Sam an hour to get you a diner burger but you were thankful for his intuition nonetheless, because by the time he got back Dean was calm enough to get up and had even helped you to put on a new t-shirt—one of his black ones; he said it was because it was looser but you suspected it was some kind of metaphor, covering you with part of himself—and shimmy into a pair of mesh athletic shorts. Standing up for a shower was still too ambitious, but the fresh clothes made you feel a little less gross. He was trying his best to clean up as much broken glass as possible when his brother opened the door and tossed him a paper bag with a bubbly illustrated hamburger on it.

           Walking into the room without taking his jacket off, Sam set your food on the nightstand and grabbed a motel binder of local attractions (minimal) as a makeshift tray for you to eat off of before carefully helping you to sit up a little more. “Double cheeseburger—eat it before the fries, you need the iron. Oh, and I almost forgot—couple of these too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two bottles in one big hand that appeared to be acetaminophen and an iron supplement.

           “You’re the best, Sam.” It was nice to hear your voice sound more normal, lubricated with two bottles of Gatorade already, and you tried not to imagine how awkward or painful it was going to be to try to get up and go to the bathroom later.

           The Winchesters sat on the other bed, still in their boots because of the rug of broken glass no one wanted to acknowledge, and Sam turned on whatever dumb comedy he could find first. For a fleeting moment it felt like any normal night on the road, nursing an injury and eating greasy food in a room you’d never see again past tomorrow morning, and you almost forgot that (minutes? hours? you still didn’t know how long you’d been out) earlier you thought you were saying goodbye to the two people you loved most, who’d moved heaven and earth and miles of rural highway to bring you back, whose superhero resilience you’d seen start to crack at the thought of losing you. A searing jolt of pain when you reached for another Gatorade reminded you all too much, and when you hissed both Sam and Dean leapt off the bed with faces contorted in concern.

           “Just stretched too far, I’m okay.”

           Watching them take twin deep breaths could’ve been funny and you hoped it would be in a few days—hoped in a few days laughing wouldn’t feel like being impaled. For now, you tried to drink in this little moment of peace and made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t take another one for granted ever again.

-

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[misfit-fics]

Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

all rights reserved © misfit-fics

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #rm x reader #knj #demon bts x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon crack #every kiss begins with consent #x reader #reader insert #demon namjoon #demon namjoon x reader #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts crack

[maschotch]

Gotch 2

Hotchniss 4 & 6

2. what sort of things do they tease each other about

anything. literally everything is on the table but they do it so rarely that it’s always a surprise and its always absolutely fucking devastating. never something that hurts their feelings or anything like that it just catches them off guard and they gotta sit there a couple seconds to process what just happened akjsdghl

some of the common ones tho? she’ll tease him for his hair all the time (rightfully so) but thats something she brings up all the time. he’ll tease her for her overly complicated coffee/tea routine. whether it’s her cafe order or the elaborate set up she has in the break room (its like a thirty minute process) he’ll mess w her ab it. she’ll tease him ab being so normcore all the time, like his polos and quarter zips when they’re not at work. he teases her ab her slightly hoarder tendencies, faking annoyance when he pretends to trip over clutter in her apartment or chuckling and shaking his head when she pulls out some scrap of paper from like five years ago. she’ll tease him ab being the perfect imagine of The Man (derogatory): lawyer, fbi agent, authority figure, suit, etc. usually she’ll mention it when he walks so stiff.

they know what lines not to cross and they’re good at making sure the other knows it’s a joke. his humor is so dry and she’s so unfailingly positive that it’s pretty easy to tell that they’re just messing around. they understand each other in opposite ways, and that’s just how their relationship is! but because of that understanding, its rare for feelings to get hurt bc they know theres no ill intent behind any of it

4. what kind of secrets would they trust each other with?

this is a very sexy question thank you for asking this question especially for these two specifically bc FUCK i have things to say

these are two people who do not want to talk ab their past. it’s traumatic, damning, may change the way the team looks at them, etc. they have their reasons. and i think that’s why they’re able to trust each other with information more than they would anyone else. ever since milwaukee they’ve had an indestructible bond. they dont need to know anything ab each other’s history to trust each other, so there’s no expectation of explanation. and that makes it easier for both of them to be more comfortable opening up

aside from that, they also know that they’re not gonna freak out? like if they go to anyone else on the team they’ll make a big deal about it but emily and hotch are so chill. its why everyone goes to emily when they’re having some emotional problem. the only reason they dont go to hotch is bc hes The Boss and idk u just dont always wanna be tellin random shit to ur superior. but i dont think that’s a problem for emily bc they both see each other… not as equals bc obviously he’s unit chief but they’re on a different playing field than the others. she can tell him stuff and not be worried its gonna bite her in the ass somehow bc she trusts that he wouldnt do anything like that

ok so actually addressing the question: a lot more than people think. and a lot more than they share with others. between emily’s bluntness and hotch’s dry humor, they can talk to each other about things that might freak the others out. there’s the dark stuff ab their pasts but there’s also lighter stuff. hotch can talk to emily ab things that would definitely make the others go o.O like casual sex and just needing a hookup. she’s his wingman bc she won’t be annoying about it. likewise, she can bitch about anything and everything to him, from how her neighbor’s pissing her off to debating names for cats to how she railed someone in the bar bathroom last night. he’ll just listen and add his input when prompted—and she respects him enough to actually give a shit about his opinions, even if she disagrees with him (which she usually does). but it shows her different ways of looking at things

i think emily can be more open about her.. lack of discomfort at the things they see. she doesnt have to pretend to struggle, she doesnt have to fake shock or horror. he can tell that its something to do with her past, but he’s not gonna pry about it. its just a skill she's built up and the others may be creeped out by it since they dont know where its comes from, but hotch just lets her be. i think hotch can tell her a little bit about his home life growing up. i dont think he’s ever had someone in his life who he’s sure won’t pity him or ask more questions than hes comfortable with or try to get him to do something about it. she’ll just listen. she’s not gonna judge and its not gonna change the way she looks at him, it’s just a chance for him to get it out.

6. how would they react to being asked if they were dating?

depends on who it is and how much emily wants to annoy hotch at the moment.

if she’s in nuisance mode and its someone they're not gonna see again, she'll drape herself over him and give his cheek a little pec saying “yes~ <3” and hotch will just stand there -_- and wait for this to be over

otherwise she’ll just say “nah” and move on

#i hope these make sense akjdhgls i feel like my ability to dictate what im trying to say is a bit shaky lately #like idk aksjhlas i just feel like nothing ive written today can be understood by anyone but me #maybe im just an idiot :) #asks #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 17

Chapter Selection

I woke up with a cold spot next to me. For a split second till the realization set it, he wasn't there and he left me. I couldn't bring myself to look around the room for him, I knew he'd leave. I was in a haze last night. I didn't remember that I asked him to sleep on the couch. 

I looked up and he was gone; actually gone. The blankets were folded, and the pillow was put away. His bags weren't on the floor anymore. I sat up against the headboard and rested my head. Why would he stay, I was clear when I didn't want him to touch me that I was broken.

Aaron knows that, of course he wouldn't want the fact that his girlfriend was raped. I was running through my thoughts trying to escape, I didn't notice that Aaron had actually walked back into the room with bags. 

He set them by the door and saw the tears flowing down my face and he rushed over. He knew I didn't want him to touch me so he was waving his hands trying to get my attention. 

"Y/n, y/n, you're ok alright. I'm right here, see I'm still here." I was brought back and my glassy eyes met Aarons soft ones. I noticed his breathing was picking up and he was worried for me. "I told you not to leave, why'd you leave." His face dropped, he didn't think I'd wake up so soon. 

He thought he had time, "I just went to pick up some things okay. Come on you got to get ready for the hospital." I sat still for a moment then I got dressed. Aaron brought his bag from the closet and changed his shirt. 

I gathered the clothes I was wearing when the attack happened and brought them with me. 

I walked over to Aarons bag and pulled out his quarter zip. I was definitely missing him even though he was right next to me. "Aaron", I let out quietly. 

"What is it", I needed a woman with me, just to get the exam. "I'm gonna go get Emily, I want her there." I put on my pants and we walked to her room. Aaron knocked softly, he kept his distance from me. She opened the door, "What happened." 

Aaron motioned her outside the room, "Something happened, y/n doesn't want people to know but she wants you there." Emily was confused and she was trying to figure it out. She took notice of the bruises and cuts.

"What happened", I jumped into her arms. It's what I needed, warm arms; just someone to hold me. Emily was staring at Aaron the whole like they were having their own conversation. 

"Let me get my stuff", She walked back into the room and got changed. We got a rental car and drove to the hospital. 

I asked the SANEs if it was okay to have Aaron in the room with me to get the exam done and nodded. She asked if I had showered or washed off. She collected my things and stored them away, After taking a detailed history she did the body examination.

From head to toe she looked at everything. She looked at my scraps, cuts, bruises. I looked over and saw Aarons heart visibly breaking. She took a swab of my mouth, skin, everything. It had been some time since everything started, the exam took about 2 hours. 

Emily was called into the room when it was over.

Emily went over standing over me holding my hand. Aaron stared at us. I knew he wanted to just hold me, he was a little jealous that he didn't get to. It's just a hand y/n. I need this, he needs this.

Despite not being ready we needed it. I stared at Aaron in the eyes and looked down at my hand that was on the bed and open. He saw it and slowly brought his hand to mine gently closing it around min. 

His large hand engulfed mine, at first my  heart was racing a bit and I can tell he knew. He was going to pull back but I held on tighter. I was talking myself into it and I let myself relax. Emily watched us and I saw it click in her head. 

She glanced at me and her face saddened, "Y/n oh my god." She knew Tears were brimming in her eyes and she had to step away; trying to stop herself. She tried to pull Aaron aside to talk to him but I wouldn't let him go. 

I looked at Emily and shook my head. "I wanna go back", I whispered, staring at Aaron. 

"We can go back to the hotel in a little bit", in a soft voice. He ran his thumb over my hand. I shook my head, "No Aaron I want to go home." He nodded. We completely ignored Emily's presence. She knew now wasn't the time to ask and she was going to ask at a later date.

"You want me to book a flight?", I nodded. The Doctor walked into the room. "We got everything we need you can leave." 

"Actually, we live in Virginia we're here on vacation. You can send everything down there right?" 

"We can have that arranged sir." She walked out leaving us alone again. We drove back to the hotel and we ran into the team in the lobby. They were going to get lunch when they saw us. Emily and Aaron stood in front of me, shielding me. 

"Hey what's wrong mamas'', Morgan asked and I was backing away from them. Morgan tried to reach for my arm but I flinched. He gave Aaron and Emily confused looks, I wanted to cry again. There were so many men around me I felt suffocated. I thought they were all going to hurt me. 

I stepped forward to Aaron and tugged on his sleeve. He took that as a sign I was getting stressed and walked me through the small crowd to the elevator. We left Emily downstairs to handle them while we packed to go home. 

I was only here for 4 days and this happens. Despite the fact I was intimidated by Aaron he was still the safer bet than anyone else. There was a sentence he said months ago that played loud in my head. 

'I would never do that to you.'

Once I got everything packed Aaron was checking flights. There was once leaving at 4pm, he booked it and it was 1pm so we decided to head to the airport. As we waited for the flight to board Aaron had a movie playing on his phone that we were watching. 

The flight home was uneventful other than me being terrified of basically every passenger. It  was a straight shot taking about 13 hours for us to get home. 

Walking through the front door I was met with the lingering scent of Aaron cologne. I went to the kitchen to get a cup of water while Aaron brought our bags to the bedroom. Before I went to the room I watched as Aaron laid a blanket on the couch and a pillow.

"I'm sorry", I mumbled going over to him. "I'm trying... I am, I want you with me. I just... can't have you with. me." He sat in the chair in front of me. 

"I understand; like I said yesterday. I'm not here to rush you or force you to be with me. You take your time, I really hate to say it but this isn't something you're going to get over in a few days. It'll take time." 

Every word he was saying was true, I was trying to rush. I needed time to process, I stood from the couch and we said goodnight. I went into the empty bedroom laying in the cold and empty bed. Which kind of perfectly represents how I felt at that moment. 

I was laid there thinking. The man I wanted to be with, the man I wanted to hold me most was just down that hallway. I blamed myself for not being stronger and just doing it. For not marching down the hallway and jumping into my arms. 

I just couldn't bring myself to do it. 

______________________________

2 days later

He was pulling at my shirt tearing off my body leaving my chest exposed. Tugging at my shorts pulling them down. I fought trying to move him off of my body but he stayed, "Just fucking take it whore." 

He was gripping my thighs till his nails were drawing blood and there were handprints.

"Y/n, y/n hey. Hey I'm right here. Y/n stop", I was throwing my arms moving in my bed. I was screaming my sleep. "Don't fucking touch me!", Aaron held me upright hold my hands together so I couldn't hit him. I opened my eyes and saw my hold me, I was about to freak out again. 

He noticed and he let go moving to the other side of the bed. "Are you ok?", I nodded. 

"Y/n... no your not, I can sleep in here." I didn't answer, Aaron walked out of the room, he came back in with the blanket and pillow. He laid the blanket on the floor and got down. I moved to the edge of the bed to be closer to him. 

I turned my body towards Aaron, I could see he was there but I wanted him up on the bed with me. I fell back to sleep, I didn't have the nightmare again.

I woke up to the sun shining through the curtains, I looked at the clock seeing it was 6:30am. I looked down and saw Aaron still knocked out on the floor. I stood up going to the bathroom, staring into the mirror at the now small scars on my arms. The handprints on my waist and thighs were more prominent. They were a green and purple color, turning on the water waiting for it to heat up I started to brush my teeth. 

When the steam was filling the room I stepped into the shower. The water wet my hair and ran down my body, the only thing that made me warm other than Aaron. I heard a knock on the door, "Do you need anything? I'm gonna go get something for breakfast."

"Can you get some vanilla creamer actually." He let out a small okay and shut the door. I finished up my show and dried off in the bedroom. Aaron had laid some clothes out for me on the bed. I put them on and walk down the hallway to the kitchen. 

There were grocery bags on the counter that he hasn't put away yet. He started to put away the food and I searched through the bag looking for the vanilla. I pulled it out and poured it in my coffee, "No everyone loved their coffee black Aaron." 

He smirked, when he stopped looking at me I let my face fall. "How'd you sleep."

"Better", which wasn't a complete lie. The nightmare wasn't as bad but it definitely still occurred. When I closed my eyes I knocked out but I saw his face in front of me. I was face down on the concrete and he wasn't stopping. I saw people moving past the allay and I begged for help... no one came. 

He then called me a 'filthy whore' and left me there, again. But I didn't get myself up to go get help. I stayed there. "Are you listening?", Aaron was trying to talk to me holding a plate in front of me. I grabbed the plate and sat at the table. 

"I'm sorry what'd you say", the food was put away and he was making breakfast. "I was trying to tell you I need to go in to work tomorrow. The team came back today and we have work tomorrow. Obviously you don't have to come in." 

I thought about it, I needed to get my mind off of it. But there so many people though, I was flinching at Spencer, Morgan, hell it didn't matter who they were. They were just men, my subconscious is acting like every man I see is Mark. By looking I can tell that but I feel like I'm on autopilot.

Sometimes I just space out and don't realize what I'm doing. "You don't have to make a decision right now but-" I cut him off. 

"I think I'm actually gonna take a few days", he turned off the stove and brought our food over. He put it in the middle of the table, "Good." He said quietly, the rest of the meal was quiet. We sat on opposite ends of the table barley looking at each other. 

I put our dishes in the sink, I was going to wash them when I heard my phone in the bedroom. I walked out and it was Emily calling me. 

"Hey where are you, I'm at your apartment and you're not here", I walked back out to Aaron. 

"I'm at Aarons", I was cautious. Aaron was staring at me the whole time. She shrugged off the answer, "Okay I'm on my way over", Emily hung up the phone and started driving over.

"What was that about?", I shrugged, turning on the tv. I started watching my favorite tv show and curled up in my blanket. About 10 minutes in there was a knock. "Come in", the door was unlocked and Emily walked through going straight to me. 

"What's this about", he glanced over at Aaron in the kitchen. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Are you ok with this", I raised my eyebrows. "Being here, I'm not trying to victimize you but maybe you should stay with me for a while." 

I stood up and went to the bathroom; she followed me. "You're saying that because he's a man?" She nodded her head. She wasn't completely wrong, it was hard. There was faint broken trust, I literally had to force myself to just hold his hand. 

I mean after a while I calmed down but that was hard enough. "I wanna give it a few more days and If it doesn't get better then yes, I'll stay with you." 

She changed the subject, "Knowing you I'm hoping that you're going home." We were walking back out the living room, Aaron was now sitting on the couch. "Yeah I just really need to try and get my mind off it." She went out the door to her car and drove off. 

I closed the door and locked it behind me. Going back down the hallway I laid down. Resting my head on Aarons side of the bed. I wanted to trust him, I tried. Hoping while he's at work I'll have time to think about what I want. 

I need time away from him, even if that thought did scare the hell out of me. 

____________________

2 days later

It was 3pm and Aaron was still at work. The mailman came by and I went outside to check. The sunlight burned my eyes and heated my skin. I hadn't been outside in a few days, I opened the mailbox, grabbed it and walked back inside. 

As I'm sorting through the mail I see some bills and a report card for Jack. I didn't think much of it till I saw another note.

I dropped it on the counter and called Aaron, "Can you come back please." He didn't say anything; he ended the call. I heard his car outside pull into the driveway and his car door slam shut. He burst into the front door and he saw me sitting on the floor. 

Just the thought that Mark was following my and he was still watching me gave me an unsettling feeling. I didn't get up off the floor and I stayed holding my knees to my chest; protecting myself. 

"It's the note on the counter", I said in a raspy voice. He looked around and picked it up. He unraveled it from when I crumpled it.  

How'd you like Hawaii. 

"So it was that bastard, he fucking did this to you", Aaron was starting to get angry. I pulled myself off the floor using the counter top, "I told you I wasn't lying."

"Has the hospital sent any information about the kit", I shook my head. He stood there frozen. I knew in his mind he was thinking about ways to kill him, I didn't mind that; I'd help with getting rid of the body. 

I walked over to him and from afar. I reached my hand over the counter and slowly brought my hand to his. He exhaled at my touch, relaxing. We haven't been able to feel each other for almost the last week. 

It was my fault but I couldn't help it.

_________________

@donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @marie1115 @appleblossoms-posts @oreogutz

@wanniiieeee @mac99martin 

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron #aaron hotchner #Criminal Minds #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #SSA HOTCHNER #hotch #Thomas Gibson #hotchner

[rosesisupposes]

Mist Connection (Sleepxiety)

read on ao3

Virgil's always been told to be careful in the fog. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!” He's sure his Aunties are just superstitious. And yet...

pairing: Virgil/Remy (Sleep)

content tags: brief mention of parent death/disappearance; fae-like setting; Remy Is A Flirt; kissing, background best friends analogical 

word count: 4,072

⁂

Virgil has always hated the fog.

He stomps down the country road to his house, trying to make his footfalls louder.

He knows it's superstitious, but the thick, cloying clouds make him feel claustrophobic, like anyone or anything could leap out at any time.

And then, of course, there are the stories.

All his village Aunties talk of disappearances, a last sighting of a poor soul walking into a thick bank of fog and never being seen again.

“Be careful, lad,” they warn him. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!”

Virgil rolls his eyes at them, smiles indulgently are their old tales. His friend Logan is always quick to point out that all these stories happened just before he was born, so it can only be passed down in rumor.

But a part of him believes, and so he dons his heaviest combat boots, zips his bomber jacket over his hoodie, and he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, watching each step to stay on the path.

He’s sure the legends are really about caution- the woods here are dense, and difficult to navigate even when it’s clear. It’s all too likely those sad disappearances were just folks who got disoriented and blundered in all the wrong directions.

But then again, one can never be too cautious.

It’s probably because he’s dwelling on those tales that he hears it.

“Virgil...”

Distinctly, a voice. Saying his name. It sounds... familiar, somehow. But who?

He pauses, listening hard. He hears nothing, though, and keeps on. He’s close to home.

He looks up, peering for the porch light. But then he sees- eyes? No, not quite eyes. They’re far too big, for one, but they also look too... blank.

“Virgil!” The voice says again, and now there’s a mouth along with the maybe-eyes. He’s not imagining- there’s certainly a face, of some kind, and it’s speaking to him. By name.

Virgil hesitates. He’s had several nights in a row of not great sleep- maybe he’s just tired and seeing things? But all the voices of his Aunties are yelling in his ear to look away, to keep moving.

The only problem is, the face is directly in the path where he needs to walk. He can only avoid it by going off the road. And that, he knows, is a far worse option.

So he takes a deep breath, looks down, and keeps walking forward. He keeps his eyes fixed at where the cloud meets the ground, at the edge of the little circle of visibility he has in each direction. It moves with him, as fog always does.

But when he chances a glance up, the face is still there. And now it’s more defined, a head shaped in the mist. And now he sees that the large eyes are in fact glasses. That makes sense.

Why am I trying to apply logic to a trick of my eyes in the fog? he asks himself angrily, and he firmly roots his gaze to the ground once more, stomping on.

“Virgil... wait, please!” the voice says again. More words now? Can he still call that just a trick of a tired mind?

Through the mist, he can make out the slightest nimbus of light from his porch lantern. He knows where home is, and it’s close.

So it can’t be too risky, right?

“Who do you speak to?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to confirm that this hallucination knows his name.

“I speak to you, Virgil!” the hallucination says, and its mouth is defined enough now for him to see a smile. The mist is rippling, more and more forming into defined shapes, giving it a neck, and shoulders, and a steadily-growing torso.

“Who are you? What are you?” Virgil asks. He tugs at his hoodie until the hood is free from under his jacket, draping it over his ears and head.

“You don’t remember?” the form asks, pouting. “Am I that unmemorable?”

“And what am I supposed to remember?” Virgil asks guardedly.

“How we met, babes! It seems so recent, but you’re so much bigger now...”

Virgil frowns. Something deep in the recesses of his memory stirs, like a whisper of a dream from many years ago.

The form has grown enough to have arms and the beginnings of legs. “Take my hand, you’ll remember,” it says, extending its newly-formed limb.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember, and what else? Do I look dumb enough to go around shaking hands with every fog-creature I see?” Virgil crosses his arms resolutely, and the form droops slightly.

“I mean you no harm, hon. I just want to talk.”

Virgil says nothing, just taps his steel-tipped toe.

“Fine, no, sweetie, you don’t look dumb. Just familiar. Hm, do you have an older brother or father who looks like you? Did I skip a generation again?”

The more defined the form becomes, the more human its voice sounds, no longer an ethereal echo but a drawl. Virgil’s not quite sure if he should be reassured or more freaked out by that.

“Can’t help you there,” he replies. “If I have any siblings, I’ve never met them. And ditto on the dad.”

Finally, the form is complete, head to toe. It appears to stand on the ground, but it clearly cannot detach from its cloud completely. “Then clearly, introductions are in order.” It looks at Virgil for a moment, then grows a very similar jacket around its torso. “You may call me Remy.”

“Okay, fog-boy,” Virgil replies, arms still crossed. “You’ve been calling me Virgil, feel free to continue.”

“Virgil. I’m glad to have found you. I’ve been looking for you, you see. Or at least, I think it was you. You haven’t always been this big, right? Humans are weird.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Strong words for a - man? Entity? - who just grew a body out of a cloud. But yeah, I grew the human way. I was a kid. Now I’m not. Are we done?”

“No, please!” Remy says, arms raising as Virgil starts to walk forward. “I can’t- if you go too close to the lantern I won’t be able to speak to you. I- if we did meet, touching my hand would bring the memory back, nothing more. I swear I mean you no harm. Please?”

Virgil hesitates. It’s a risk, for sure. But haven’t the aunties always said the fair folk cannot lie?

“Does it have to be your hand?” he asks.

“No, any part of this form will do.”

“Then turn around,” Virgil orders.

Remy obeys.

Virgil steels himself, still considering the possibility that he could just run to his house now. But curiosity takes hold, and he reaches out to lightly brush Remy’s shoulder. It feels odd, still a cloud, but gives more slowly, like memory foam. And then- he remembers.

He’s a child again, no more than five or so, and he’s lost on the way home. Auntie hurt her leg and couldn’t walk with him. He’d insisted he was able to walk the quarter mile himself. But then the fog had rolled in. He’s cautiously proceeding, staying on the path, but he’s terrified.

He hears a voice, calling his name, and follows it. A smile dances in the mist around him, and the voice tells him it will guide him home, only take its hand.

Virgil wraps chubby fingers around the cloud hand dangling from the mist, and true to its word, the porch light is soon visible. Another Auntie is on the porch, looking frantic, but calms when she sees him.

Virgil lets go of the hand, and he’s back in the present, hand dangling in mid air behind Remy’s back. He frowns in confusion.

“So I met you. And you helped. Why? Everyone not a child knows the mist isn’t friendly.”

Remy turns back around, looking hurt. “And did Everyone ever try buying me a drink first?”

In spite of himself, Virgil snorts in laughter.

“You’re a cloud, can you even drink?”

“No,” Remy replies, pouting, “but they could have made an effort!”

“Fine, so you’re not that bad. Can I go home now?”

“No- please, you’re the first one to hear me in... Goddess, even I’ve lost count.“

“So what,” Virgil asks with a shrug. “Did you just want to chat? Cause small talk ain’t my jam. I have a date with a conspiracy theory marathon.”

Remy droops. “I can’t keep you. Go, then. I’ll return to being alone and formless, reviled by the locals, my reputation cruelly smeared!”

“Holy shit, drama queen much?”

“Why yes, I am a queen! Thank you for noticing!” Remy replies, perking up.

Virgil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but be a bit charmed by this odd creature. He dusts off a stump at the edge of the road and sits. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Why can’t everyone hear you? Why does everyone think the mist will make us humans disappear?”

Remy’s feet leave the ground as they wriggle in happiness. A flick, and a chaise starts to melt into being out of the fog next to Virgil, giving them a place to elegantly flop down.

“I don’t know why they can’t all hear me,” they admit. “It only seems to be people who are... special, in some way. I think there’s been one a generation, but time’s a bitch and I don’t like her.”

Virgil smirks but doesn’t reply, nodding for them to continue.

“The disappearances... I think time might be an issue again? Time or space. One of those. Maybe both. I thought all humans were returned to the same moment and spot they left, but apparently I’m not the only one who gets messed up?”

“So... wait, what are you, exactly? Are you of the gentle folk?”

Remy sniffs. “How dare. My manners are so much better than theirs. Did I ask for you name? Have I whisked you off to my court? No ma’am!”

“Jeez, touchy! If not fae, what are you?”

Remy ruffles their hair, and it wisps around as if in a breeze. “I think you humans would call me, hmm, a spirit? Elemental? I’d tell you my actual name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“Try me.”

Remy smirks, then makes a sound like the wind over a heath, the dampened noise of waves lapping at a shore, and the tiny sound of goosebumps forming in the clammy air.

“Okay, you’re right, I can’t pronounce that.”

Remy smirks deeper. “So anyway, I keep waiting to find one of you who can hear me properly, but most people just hear echoes I think? And that freaks out the poor lil human brains.”

“Wow, can’t imagine why,” Virgil replies drily.

“Hey, it’s not easy being ignored and invisible to everyone who passes you! Not that I’d expect you to understand-“

“Of course I understand,” Virgil says with a shrug. “That’s most of my life since the Aunties decided I was raised enough.”

Remy pauses. “What are ‘Aunties’. Are those... food?”

“...they’re people. Why would you think food?”

“Humans do weird things, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Aunties are all the ladies in town who collectively took care of me when I was a kid. Because no parents.”

“And parents are- the ones who made you?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Well, how can you not have them then?”

Virgil shrugs. “They didn’t stick around, I guess. I was dropped off at the wardlings house when I was a baby. I’ve only ever had the Aunties, and my best friend Lo.”

“Low?”

“Logan.”

Remy scratches their cloudy head. “Have I seen this Logan?”

“Nah, he was a pen pal, now an internet pal.”

Remy smiles, bemused. “I will pretend I know what any of those words mean!”

“I’ve never met him face to face,” Virgil explains.

Remy’s own face falls. “So you are also lonely.”

Virgil, about to shrug philosophically, pauses. “I- yeah. I am. It’s mostly fine, I’m an introvert. It’s fine.”

Remy sits up from their lounging position and stares at Virgil, or appears to. The glasses over their eyes are opaque, and the gray clouds of their face are hard to read.

“Do you think, maybe- I was so excited to be able to talk to you, Virgil. I would like to do so again, if you would allow it.”

Virgil looks down. The Aunties would absolutely screech in dismay at this entire situation, let along agreeing to repeat it. But- it hasn’t been unpleasant. It’s been intriguing. And Remy saved him, all those years ago.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replies, looking up with a smile. He’s rewarded by a smile on Remy’s face that’s so bright, it almost seems like a second lantern.

“Until next time, Virgil- wait, humans have family names, correct? What is yours?”

Virgil is standing to walk home, but smiles wryly. “You need a family to have a family name. I was found in the doorstep in the middle of thunder and rain, so they’ve always called me Virgil Storm.”

“Until next time, Virgil Storm!” Remy says. They hesitate, then move through the mist closer to Virgil. “This is how humans say goodbye, I believe,” they say, and then Virgil feels that odd sensation of dense clouds touching his cheeks, one that distracts him so much that he’s barely aware of Remy leaning in until lips of clouds are pressed against his.

When Remy finally withdraws, Virgil’s mind has come to a complete stop, and it’s not until his body has fully faded back into the swirling mists that Virgil is able to make himself move.

He walks into his house, shucks his layers and boots robotically, and collapses on the couch. He stares at the TV as it plays his conspiracy marathon, but his eyes don’t take in a single minute of it.

A fog person just kissed me. The thought, with no useful additions, circles endlessly through his brain, even as he falls into a restless sleep.

⁂

Virgil pays an unusual amount of attention to the weather after that... well, unusual night.

He checks the humidity every day, looks for fronts coming in that might bring in a bank of fog, asks the local farmers their predictions. He never mentions why he’s so interested. Certainly not to the Aunties, but also not to Logan. His friend can tell he’s a little distracted, but not enough to be a real concern.

Virgil’s not quite sure why he won’t even hint at it, but he knows it’s at least partly because, well. He’s not convinced it was real.

He had been very tired, so there’s a non-zero chance he did imagine it all. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

But when he’s lost in thought, he keeps realizing that his hand drifts to his lips and the sensory memory they still hold.

A week later, the forest eases under a coverlet of soft clouds curling close to the ground. From the minute the mist gathers, Virgil is sitting on his porch, peering into the growing fog with anticipation and nervousness.

When he can barely see the first tree, he double checks the porch lantern and walks out, checking over his shoulder until he’s fully surrounded by dense, swirling clouds.

He waits, looking around him, but sees nothing, and hears nothing.

“Uh, Remy?” he says aloud, feeling self-conscious. “Fog-spirit? It’s, um. Me. I mean, it’s Virgil.”

A weight in his stomach is insisting that it was all a sleep-deprived hallucination, and that he’s speaking like a fool into empty air. The rest of his stomach not currently sinking through his knees twists into elaborate pretzels.

Just as he’s giving up hope, turning to go, he sees smooth orbs sticking out of the amorphous clouds. The smile follows, already smirking.

“Oh babes, don’t tell me you mist me!” Remy drawls.

Virgil wants to run to them, to reach out and confirm that they’re really real, but he restrains himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says with a deceptively noncommittal shrug.

Their body forms faster this time, and they lower their glasses to stare at Virgil for a moment. “Oh hun, don’t even try, I know what it’s like to be waiting breathlessly for someone to return.”

Virgil finds himself breathless anew, caught by the sight of Remy’s revealed eyes. They glow softly, like the hazy haloes of twin lanterns somewhere in the distance behind them.

He coughs, finding his thoughts again. “Do you  even need to breathe? As an- elemental, was it?”

Remy sniffs. “No, but I can if I want to. I’ve made myself lungs before! It was weird. I don’t know how humans do it.”

“We don’t exactly get a choice,” Virgil replies drily.

“And yet, Virgil Storm,” Remy says, drifting closer, “I think it’s really you who’s taken my breath away.” They cup Virgil’s cheek again, and this time Virgil’s sure his brain has absolutely ceased functioning.

“...erm. Uh. Yes?” he stammers, his cheeks flaming in stark contrast to the cool, humid touch of Remy’s fingers.

“What is this color, Virgil?” they ask softly. “It reminds me of- lady slippers. Early spring peonies. But with the warmth of a midsummer rain.”

“It’s called a blush,” Virgil mutters, still demonstrating the affliction.

“You didn’t do this last time,” they comment, still holding Virgil’s cheek in one cool hand.

“Last time, you hadn’t already kissed me,” Virgil says to the ground, the heat in his cheeks bursting out even more.

“Did I upset you?” Remy asks, a dark line of clouds showing a crease in their forehead.

“Not- upset, no,” Virgil manages. “You surprised me, though. Kind of a lot.”

“Surprises can be good or bad, yes? Was it a good or bad one?”

“It was, uh. A good one.”

“Would it be better if it were not a surprise?” they ask, and there’s mischief in their misty smile.

“Absolutely,” Virgil breathes, veins thrumming.

Remy leans in, and they’re kissing him again, and he’s... god, this is objectively the weirdest thing he’s ever done, and yet he can’t bring himself to care even a bit.

He kisses back, this time, feeling the odd, pleasant sensation of cool lips giving under his without dissipating. He reaches up and finds he can cup Remy’s soft, cloudy cheeks too.

A tiny, insuppressible voice in the back of his head wonders if an elemental has a tongue, or if that’s something they’d have to grow for the occasion.

The question definitely interests him, but there’s a second, louder voice.

Breaking off, it’s the second voice that tumbles out of his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone who can see you?”

Remy pauses.  “I- well. Technically, yes?”

Virgil steps back, arms coming up to guard himself off. The heat in his cheeks feels like ice now. “So, what. I’m just another human conquest?”

“No!” Remy says, and there’s clear distress in their voice. “No, not at all, it’s just- I admit, I have not been... entirely honest?”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “Start talking truth now, then. Or I’m walking away right now.”

Remy holds up their hands in defeat and surrender. “I was mostly truthful, I swear. I don’t know why some people can hear me, but I know why you can. And only two people ever have.”

“And why can I hear and see you?”

“Because of the last person who could.”

“And who was that?”

Remy takes off their glasses, meeting Virgil’s eyes with theirs. “I believe it was your parent.”

Virgil’s ears roar as his brain struggles to process this announcement. His parents? The ones he never even looked for, since no one had any leads? There’d been no note, no memento, no witness of who’d dropped him off. And he has his Aunties. But he’s never stopped wondering, fantasizing about dramatic backstories that he’d never confess to in a million years.

“Who are they?” Virgil asks, in a small voice.

“They were- unique. They heard us, after generations in this village who couldn’t or refused to. They lingered and talked, and didn’t run away in fear.”

“You talked to them?” Virgil asks, hope bursting out of his throat. “What was their name? What were they like?”

“I didn’t, no,” Remy replies with a small shake of their head. “Not until much later. No, they talked to a different elemental, a mentor of mine.”

Virgil stares. "There are... more of you?"

Remy smirks. "Not of me, hun, I'm one of a kind. But yes, there are other elementals. Fog's not the only thing in the world, sadly."

"What was your mentor's element, then?"

Remy sobers, and reaches out to clasp Virgil's shoulder. "Thunderstorms. They were the Thunder Spirit."

Virgil stiffens. "Wait, does that mean- the rain, when I was dropped off?"

"It was them, yeah," Remy says softly.

"What-" Virgil's voice is rough. "What happened to the other one? The human?"

Remy sighs deeply. They drop their arm to their side, and their body follows, falling to sit suspended in their soft clouds. "They disappeared, having you. None of us knew it would happen. They just... melted into the storm. Your parent, the elemental, they were able to save you, but they couldn't save their lover. And my mentor, Thunder- they couldn't care for you, not the way you needed. So they dropped you off and saw that you were picked up safely."

Virgil feels his legs giving out. His parents- not in any of his daydreams had they been, well, magic. He'd thought- maybe if they were, they wouldn't have left him. Or they would have come back.

Distantly his brain wonders why he's not on the hard ground, and he realizes Remy has sent solid clouds to hold him up despite the jelly his limbs have become,

"...why didn't they come for me?" he asks his knees, tears leaking down his cheeks. "Thunder- why didn't they find me, all these years?"

The clouds of Remy's cheeks have grown darker, and small raindrops drip from them. "They were devastated, Virgil. They loved your parent, truly and utterly, and they blame themself for their death. And we experience time differently - it hasn't been that long, for them. They haven't recovered. But they asked me to watch over you, to make sure you were safe."

Virgil swipes at his cheeks. "Doesn't that make you a creep, then?" He glares at the foggy entity in accusation. "Watching me since I was a kid, then kissing me?"

"I was barely a 'kid' myself when they asked me to, I swear," Remy protests. "They were like my- what was your word - Aunties? They looked after me, showed me the ropes of my powers as a new being. I promise to you, I wasn't leering then, I was new and young and, perhaps, interfering more directly than the elders wanted by taking your hand all those years ago.

"There'd been too many oddities of humans and the mist," they continue. "Disappearances. Our cousins the fae causing mischief when we weren't watching. So the elders created me, to survey all that the mist touches."

"So. What. Your love is pure or some shit," Virgil drawls, acid dripping off his words.

"Yes," Remy answers simply.

If they'd qualified, or justified, Virgil could be more defensive, could refuse to believe it. But they just stare at him, glasses off, glowing eyes sincere.

"Oh," is all he can manage in response. Maintaining eye contact has a strange side effect of making his cheeks heat up, so he has a staring contest with his boots, instead.

"Babes, please look at me?" they ask gently.

Virgil can't ignore such a polite request, can he?

But it's a dirty trick. How can he maintain a tough, self-righteously angry exterior when Remy is smiling at him with so much liking in their eyes that the orbs might as well be glowing hearts?

"Can you forgive me, Virgil? For not telling you everything sooner?"

Virgil resists for all of a second before breaking into a broad grin. "You could convince me, somehow."

Remy grins, and lifts Virgil off his feet, fully suspended in the low-hanging clouds. "I'll do my best to be very convincing."

Virgil, the son of a Thunder Spirit and their human paramour, laughs, and pulls Remy in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts remy #ts virgil #omg look y'all i finished something #and it's sfw #fog spirit remy #half-human virgil #urban legends #country legends #roses writes fanfic

[crownjimin]

094 | soora date, part one.

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

A/N: after a long awaited month, and some terrible writers block, you are presented with the chapter that all of these posts have built up to. part two will be posted on friday, enjoy!

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From the moment Sooyung woke up on Saturday morning, everything burst into chaos.

Her phone housed multiple panicked texts from Jiah and Haeun, both of them freaking out about Aera’s reaction and if any of this was a good idea. (Sooyung herself wasn’t sure, so she left those unanswered). Hyunjin had also texted Sooyung, but his messages had less capital letters and a significantly less amount of exclamation points and distressed spongebob memes in comparison to Jiah and Haeun, so Sooyung answered his texts instead.

Once she answered his messages, she began getting ready for the day, since it was a big one after all. She had woken up at a quarter to noon, so she only had about thirty minutes to get ready before she had to meet Soobin at the park to make sure everything was set by the time one o’clock came around. Luckily for her--well not really luckily since Sooyung knew that she was most likely going to sleep in late anyway--she had packed away the food her mom prepared the night before and had already picked out her outfit, so all that was left for her to do now was get dressed and to brush her teeth and style her hair.

As she was brushing her hair, her phone rang with Ae Ae would like to FaceTime… popping up on the screen, and she quickly answered the call.

“‘Ello?” Sooyung muttered once she answered the call, focused on her hair. “Ae Ae, what’s up?”

“So, um,” Rumbling sounded through the phone, with the camera going black for a second before Aera’s floor was visible. “You told me I needed to dress suitable for this picnic--which I don’t know why because we are just sitting on the ground and eating food--but what exactly does suitable mean?”

Sooyung laughed to herself briefly, because of course Aera would describe a picnic as eating food on the ground, before she answered, “Suitable means wear a dress, Aera. Put on a dress.”

“But it’s cold out!” Sooyung could hear the pout in Aera’s voice, a pristine visual of her best friend’s pouty lips showing in her mind. “My legs will literally freeze off.”

“It’s not that cold, you’re being dramatic. If you are that worried, put on a sweater.”

Aera’s face then popped up on the camera, a worried glint in her eye. “I don’t have any sweaters.”

“Now you’re just lying,” Sooyung said, picking up her phone as she left the bathroom and walked down the stairs. She entered the kitchen, where her mother was sorting through the containers of food, making sure everything she prepared was safely tucked away. “Find a sweater, wear a cute dress, and please show up on time.”

“Okay, okaaaay,” Aera cheered as she yanked a piece of clothing into the view of the camera next to her face. “This dress okay?”

Upon further inspection (Sooyung squinting and bringing the phone super close to her face), Sooyung realized Aera was holding up a white, jean overall dress, which as Aera pointed out earlier, she would freeze her legs (and arms!!) off in.

“Ae, Ae you at least need sleeves.”

“I’m going to wear a long sleeve shirt underneath!” Aera shouted. “I just need to find one first.”

Sooyung noticed her mom leaning against the counter, with her arms crossed and look on her face that told Sooyung that her mom wanted to speak with her. So, at that, Sooyung knew it was time to wrap up the call.

“Okay, Ae Ae, that’s decent enough. Remember to be at the park at one-thirty sharp, okay?”

“One-thirty, on the dot. Got it, Yungie.”

And with that, the call disconnected. Quickly, Sooyung shoved her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and looked to her mom to see what she had to say.

“So, run by me again why you’re having a picnic at the beginning of November, when the temperatures are almost unsuitable to be picnicking in,” her mom began rambling as Sooyung fixed herself a small breakfast.

“Well, mom,” Sooyung took a bite of an apple. “There’s this guy, Soobin, who likes Aera. And he wants to confess to her-”

“Is Soobin the kid that Aera mentioned last year,” Her mother asked. “The super tall one with dimples?”

Sooyung nodded.

“Okay, continue.”

“Well, he enlisted the help of me, Jiah, and Haeun-” A brief ‘Oh boy’, came from her mother, but Sooyung simply ignored it. “-to help him confess. So we put together this little picnic for him, so he can do it at the park.”

Her mother nodded at that, a charmed and affectionate glint in her eye. “That’s sweet, Yung-ah. And does Aera like him back?”

“Yes, she really does, which is why I want everything to go as smooth as possible, so we have to leave soon,” Sooyung finished off her apple and threw the core into the trash can. “I told Soobin we’d get to the park before one to set everything up.”

“Alright,” Her mother headed over to the bowl placed by the front door and grabbed her keys. “What am I doing with the food, is there a basket?”

“Yes,” Sooyung pointed at her mother as she answered, “But Jiah has it, so we can’t put the food in it until we get to the park.”

Sooyung’s mother moved back to the kitchen, taking the containers of food into her hands. “I’m going to begin loading these into the car. We can leave now, and I’ll help with the final touches, okay?”

Sooyung nodded, polishing off the glass of water she started to drink before she pulled out her phone and texted the soora world domination group chat.

@ yunggoddess: leaving the house now, the first step of the last phase is about to start.

────────────────

For Soobin, the entire Saturday morning, he was freaking out. He had never put so much thought and effort into something like he did for this date with Aera. Even though Sooyung was the one to initially come up with the idea to have a picnic, Soobin thought of virtually everything else.

He had made sure that all of the food that Sooyung’s mother was preparing were things that Aera liked, he made sure that the flowers Haeun was going to pick up would be something that conveyed his feelings for Aera perfectly. (They ultimately decided on a combination of white carnations and red chrysanthemums, something that came about after extensive research was done on flowers and their meanings.)

But while settling the food and flowers was a hassle, choosing the perfect outfit for the special day seemed even harder than Soobin was anticipating. Hyunjin was on outfit duty, something unanimously decided based on the way he dresses himself on occasions that aren’t as important as first dates and crush confessions.

“Soob, you can’t wear jeans,” Hyunjin said, tearing through his friends closet for a decent pair of slacks. “That’s heinous. I won’t allow it.”

Soobin groaned, his head in his hands. “I’m so freaking nervous, Jin. What if everything doesn’t go as planned?”

“It will,” the sound of a hanger being pulled from the closet was heard before a pair of khaki slacks were thrown in Soobin’s face. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. Now put those on while I find a shirt.”

Wordlessly, Soobin stood to take off the sweats he was already wearing, his heart beating at an alarming rate, to the point where it hurt to even swallow. Everything seemed unreal, like it was a dream and Soobin wasn’t actually in charge of his own actions.

As he pulled the first leg of the slacks onto his body, he stopped for a second to glimpse at the article of clothing. When did he buy a pair of khaki slacks? 

“Jin, you got these from my closet?” Soobin called out as he zipped up and buttoned the pants.

“Uh, yeah,” his friend responded. “Where else would I get them from? Put these on.” A white shirt and purple sweater are thrown, once again, in Soobin’s face.

“A purple sweater with purple hair,” Soobin mindlessly muttered. “Won’t that clash?”

Hyunjin paused at that, looking hard at his friend before he motioned for Soobin to put the sweater on. Soobin complied, feeling a bit awkward as his friend’s heavy and scrutinizing gaze set on him. 

“I think,” Hyunjin took a brief pause. “I think it’s fine. Soob,” Hyunjin’s hands come up to ruffle Soobin’s hair as a fond expression came across his face. “You’re really about to get a girlfriend, dude.”

“I know,” Soobin huffed a deep breath. “At least I hope so.”

Hyunjin patted Soobin’s head twice and then sent two thumbs up his way. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Soobin nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of them descended the stairs of Soobin’s house, meeting up with Soobin’s mother, Ruha, who sat on the couch in the living room.

“We all ready to go boys?” She asked, rising to her feet. She was accompanying them to the park since it was quite far from their house and neither Soobin or Hyunjin could drive themselves. 

The boys nodded coupled with sounds of approval and the three of them left the house. Once in the car, Ruha turned over the engine and they were off. 

“So, Soob,” his mother called out. “You nervous?”

When Soobin had asked his mom to take Hyunjin and him to the park on Saturday, she readily agreed since it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her son and his friends to spend their free time at the park. And she planned to leave it at that, but on Wednesday afternoon, when Soobin came home from school, he asked his mother when she went on her first date, what gift she would have liked to receive.

Now Ruha, as a normal human being who was once a teenager herself, knew that one day Soobin was going to start dating. But for some reason, when he asked her this question, she felt scared. Scared for Soobin and the future of his heart, but also scared that her son was really growing up and felt ready to go on his first date.

Once she got past the initial shock, she asked her son about why he was asking these things and specifically, for who he was asking for. And that’s when everything came spilling out, about how Soobin liked someone, he was planning to confess to her, and that he had no idea what he and his friends were doing.

She had suspicions that Aera was that someone, because she hadn’t known about Soobin spending time with anyone outside of his usual group of friends, besides her. So with some prying and not so sly alluding, Ruha got Soobin to admit that, yes, it was Aera, and that Saturday at the park was when he was going to confess.

Ruha was on board one hundred percent, telling Soobin then and there that she wanted to be present when he decided to make this big step. She wasn’t going to stay the entire date, but she wanted to help set up and see Aera before everything went down, so on the drive to the park she was excited and ready for her son to express his feelings for the first time ever.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Soobin honestly answered, rubbing his sweaty palms onto his khaki pants. “Like, everything should be perfect, it should be, but the part where I have to voice my feelings is what is getting to me.”

Ruha made a sympathetic sound, to let Soobin know that she was listening and that she understood his hesitancy, “Just remember to take a deep breath before you start pouring your heart out. Take your time, collect your th-”

“Just tell her you love her,” Hyunjin interrupted from the backseat. “Tell her you haven’t stopped thinking about her since you met her.”

“Or,” Ruha nodded in agreement with Hyunjin. “You can do that.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow in confusion and slightly in embarrassment that Hyunjin so carelessly threw around the ‘L’ word when he mentioned Soobin’s feelings for Aera. Soobin never thought about if he loved Aera or not, but he did know that he liked her. And that was enough.

“I’ll do something, which most likely will not be using the ‘L’ word, but thanks.”

From there, the car ride passed in a blur. Hyunjin texted the group chat when they arrived and at which side of the park there were at, and a few minutes later Sooyung and her mom showed up carrying the multiple containers of food. Hyunjin, Soobin, and Ruha rushed to help them with the containers, and Soobin and Sooyung’s moms introduced themselves to one another.

“Where are Jiah and Haeun?” Hyunjin asked, leading the group on the path into the park.

“Jiah is heading this way now,” Sooyung nodded further down the path where Jiah and her mom where heading towards the three of them. “And Haeun is running a bit late. She said the flower shop was packed.”

“I thought she ordered ahead of time,” Soobin said.

“She did. It’s just the flower shop only has two workers, and when thirty people are asking for multiple types of flowers, it can get backed up,” Sooyung explained. But Soobin didn’t like that answer and Sooyung noticed the deflation in his expression so she rectified it by saying,”But don’t worry! She’ll be here. We still have thirty minutes before Aera is set to show. We’ll be fine.”

Jiah made her way towards them, the basket and blanket she was tasked with bringing in hand and her mother trailed not too far behind. As expected, her mother went to group up with Sooyung’s and Soobin’s mother, while the four of them set off into the park to find a nice spot to set camp for their picnic.

Originally, the Soora World Domination group thought that finding a place for the picnic was going to be easy, thinking that not a lot of people would want to have a picnic when the temperatures were dropping faster with the fall season coming into swing, but they were sorely mistaken. 

Everywhere they turned were people. Some walked their dogs, others playing instruments idly, some painted with their friends, and others (like the SWD group were there to do) were having picnics.

“So,” Jiah trailed off as they stopped walking on the path and surveyed their surroundings. “We didn’t anticipate such a large crowd.”

“How can a park,” Hyunjin huffed. “With like, a hundred acres-”

“I don’t think a hundred is accurate, but continue.” Sooyung pitched in.

And continue, Hyunjin did. “-Be completely occupied? Like all of it?” 

“Well,” Soobin was prepared to respond, but Jiah cut him off.

“Wait, Soobin,” Jiah shot out her arm to catch the other three’s attention. “Aera said something about you showing her a waterfall when you guys came here before. Where is it?”

“Uh,” Soobin spun in a circle, surveying the park. “Back towards the South side of the park, it’s super hidden so it should be vacant.”

Hyunjin and Sooyung perked up at that.

“Well lead the way, Choi,” Sooyung shouted. “We only have twenty minutes left!”

The four of them (plus their lingering mothers) followed Soobin through the park, most of their hands loaded with materials to help bring together the picnic. Once they made it to the secluded area, past the bushes and in front of the waterfall, everyone took a brief moment to take in the scenery.

“Wah, Soob-ah,” Ruha called out, spinning in a circle as she examined it all. “This is perfect, it’s all so pretty.”

While Sooyung and Hyunjin simultaneously gasped, “There is a fucking waterfall.”

Jiah took her time placing the blanket on the ground, and separating it so that all of the folding creases weren’t visible. She used a few stray rocks that were lying around to hold down the blanket, since the wind seemed to be strong at the moment.

Once Sooyung and Hyunjin realized Jiah was setting things up, they stopped staring at the waterfall and helped place the basket and food down in a neat way. Time ticked on as the three of them argued which corner of the blanket the basket should sit on, Sooyung adamant that the placement of the basket was detrimental to the layout of everything. Hyunjin argued that placing it in the middle was good enough, while Jiah immediately disapproved of his recommendation and set the basket on the very edge of the blanket, as to not cover anything.

“Just shove it in the right corner,” Sooyung awkwardly crawled onto the blanket and put the basket in the corner. “See, it looks fine.”

“It doesn’t,” Hyunjin snapped, grabbing the basket and placing it in the middle of the blanket. “Then this way we can put the food out around the basket. Like a radial type of set up.”

Both Sooyung and Hyunjin looked to Jiah for the final verdict, and she ultimately agreed with Hyunjin, thinking the center placement was the best option.

Meanwhile, Soobin had been swept up by the group of mother’s, speaking to Sooyung’s and Jiah’s mothers about how he was planning to confess. They coached him on what to say and what to avoid saying, coaching him through his rehearsed version of his feelings that he had constructed in his head.

“Don’t ramble,” Sooyung’s mother, Serim, called out. “Try to make it concise, straight to the point.”

Jiah’s mom, Kiha, sighed softly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I remember when I got my first boyfriend, it was so nerve wracking. So yes, Soobin-ah, keep it short and simple. Just speak from the heart.”

“But my heart has so much it wants to say.”

“Paraphrase kid,” Serim said, slapping him on the back.

“IM HERE! IM HERE, NO ONE CONFESSED YET RIGHT?!?!?!?!” Haeun shouted as she ran up to the group, the bouquet of flowers in her hand.

“No, not yet,” Jiah deadpanned, taking the flowers from her hands and handing them to Soobin.

“Good, good,” Haeun hunched over, placing her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “Oh, and I think I saw Aera and Dongmin on my way here.”

And all hell broke loose at that.

Sooyung rushed to pull out her phone, a text from Aera asking her where they were meeting for the picnic showing up on her phone. Hyunjin jumped up from his laying position on the picnic blanket and he rushed over to Soobin, making sure his clothes looked nice. Jiah ran over to Sooyung, waiting for her next instructions on how to coerce Aera into the cut where the waterfall was without her becoming suspicious.

And Haeun, well she was still trying to catch her breath.

“Okay, Jiah, Haeun, come with me,” Sooyung rushed out. “Soobin, stay here. Hyunjin, you and the moms have like five minutes to hide before Aera comes over here.”

Soobin switched the flowers back and forth in his hands nervously, walking over to the picnic blanket to stand where Aera will be able to see him as soon as she cleared the bushes.

“Haeun, let’s go,” Sooyung yanked the out of breath girl behind her and the three girls left the waterfall clearing and began to head to the entrance of the park where Aera said she was.

“Now, here is how this is going down,” The three of them quickly rush down the path to meet Aera as Sooyung talked. “Haeun you'll stand somewhere down here and as I go get Aera I’ll send her farther down the path where Jiah will be. Then JiJi you will send Aera to Haeun, then Haeun will lead her to the clearing. Okay?”

“Okay.” Haeun and Jiah nodded simultaneously.

#choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #hueningkai #kang taehyun #kpop #choi soobin x female oc #social media au #txt #txt social media au #it is finally here #holy hell it’s been a month #anyway enjoy

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the compass

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 7/?

masterlist

word count: 4.3k

warnings: crappy writing, major filler chapter

playlist

-

"This is empty. You took empty tanks?"

Rosie watched in disbelief as Kie examined the scuba diving gear John B had stolen from Ward. She stared dumbfounded at the black-eyed boy. John B merely hung his head in response.

The water around them was calmer than usual, and the sun was setting, making it a picturesque sight. The calm of the water and the sky contrasted what they were about to do.

"Okay this one's a quarter full. That's enough for one of us," Kie sighed. The five teenagers looked at each other.

"Love it when a plan comes together," Pope quipped.

Kie ignored him, "Does anybody know how to dive?"

Rosie looked down at her stitched hand and frowned, "I mean I've been diving before," Kie, Pope, and John B look hopeful. "But I can't get in the water right now," she held up the injured hand, and their shoulders all slumped.

Silence followed.

"It's kind of a Kook sport," JJ sighed.

Pope cleared his throat, "I, uh, read about it?"

Kie huffed and threw her hands in the air, "Great! Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die."

"You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can that be?" JJ looked to Pope.

Rosie rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to argue, but Pope beat her to it.

"If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood and you get the bends."

John B and Kie seemed to understand the risk, but JJ wasn't so quick.

"You mean bends like," the blond bent over, sticking his ass out in a suggestive manner, "bend over and..."

"The bends kill you, dumbass," Rosie deadpanned.

"I can dive," John B interjected, though his voice was full of uncertainty.

Kie cocked an eyebrow at him, "Since when can you dive?"

"I'll do it," he affirmed.

The group looked at each other and paused for a moment, before Pope broke the silence, "Let me do some calculations real quick. So that boat's about 30 feet down, right? So it'll take 25 minutes at most at that depth, which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet for two minutes."

John B nodded. Rosie watched Kie strip herself of her t-shirt and jump into the water. Rosie caught onto what her friend was doing, but the three boys ogled at her like idiots. Rosie rolled her eyes, and pulled her legs up into her seat. JJ instructed John B on how to get inside the cargo hold and Rosie found herself zoning out fairly quickly. She stared out at the horizon, admiring the pristine line between the blue water and the orange sky.

"Diver down?"

Rosie was pulled out of her thoughts and watched with a smug grin as Kie gave John B a kiss on the cheek.

"Diver down."

John B jumped into the water and slowly sank down. Rosie turned back into her seat in the boat and stretched her legs out. Her bare feet nudged against JJ. He shot her a look and shoved them off, but she put them back up on the seat with a smirk.

"Shit. Guys!" Pope cried out as the wailing of a siren filled the previously peaceful air.

Rosie's head shot towards the source of noise to see a boat heading towards them.

"That's the police," JJ stated the obvious.

"Just act frickin' normal," Kiara flung her hair back and situated herself into an unnaturally natural position.

Rosie's heart raced, but she remained in her relaxed position as to not raise suspicion.

"Evening, officers," Pope addressed them.

"Evening."

"How you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?"

The teenagers all looked at each other with faces of mock surprise.

"No, wow."

"Why is it closed?"

"We're conducting a search out here. Boat went down," the officer replied.

Rosie remained silent while the officer interrogated them some more questions before asking if he could take a look around their boat. She sat up in her seat and moved out of the way so he could inspect it. Rosie's worry-filled eyes met JJ, who held a calm expression; though she knew he was freaking out internally too. Rosie's leg shook with anxiety as the officer stood at the edge of the boat and looked down at where John B had to be waiting. The teenagers waited..and waited.. and waited. Finally, the officer deemed it acceptable and moved back into his own boat.

"Let us know if you see anything on your way out," the officer called out.

"We'll be gone soon, sir," Pope replied as the police drove away.

As soon as they were headed in the other direction, all four teenagers raced to the edge of the boat and peered down. Rosie watched the water expectantly. Sure enough, seconds later, John B floated to the surface and the tension in her shoulders deflated.

"Thank God!" she cried.

"There he is!"

"Did you find anything?" JJ asked in excitement.

John B threw a soaking duffel bag onto the boat. JJ, Rosie, Kiara, and Pope all cheered and helped their friend out of the water.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I ran out of air," John B panted.

Kie sighed, "You scared the shit out of me."

Pope and JJ explained the situation with the cops, but Rosie and Kie's attention was elsewhere. Rosie watched a boat with two men approach from the distance. Something about them sent an uneasy feeling crawling up her spine.

"Hey, guys? Bogey two o'clock," Kie directed the boys' attention to the boat.

"What are they doing back there?"

"The marsh is closed," Rosie mumbled.

"Let's not stick around to find out," JJ moved to get the bowline from the water.

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted to one of panic as JJ fought to get the line out of the water as fast as he could. The boat was rapidly approaching, and it didn't seem very friendly.

"JJ hurry up," Rosie urged the blond.

The boat was getting closer and closer.

"Don't wait for me, go!" he worked as fast as he could. John B raced to the drivers seat and revved up the engine.

"Go go go!"

"Go into the marsh!"

"I'm going," John B shot back at his panicked friends.

He steered the boat into the marsh in an attempt to lose them. Rosie watched in anticipation as the boat followed them into the marsh and started to gain speed.

"Guys, they're following us!" Kie called out in panic.

"John B, you gotta go faster!" Rosie urged him on, the anxiety spreading through her body.

"Gun it!" JJ added on, looking back and forth between his friend and the boat.

The two boats raced down the strip of water, both going as fast as they could.

BAM

Rosie jolted at the noise while simultaneously being shoved down by JJ. She turned her head back to see that one of the men was now aiming a gun at them. Her heart was pounded painfully against her chest.

"John B, get down!" she cried at the boy who was still up and steering the boat.

BAM

BAM

Gunshot after gunshot rang throughout the air, and the fear in Rosie's body increased with each one. She locked eyes with Kie who was pointed at a fishing net at the end of the boat. Rosie nodded and moved to get up with her, but was pulled back down again by JJ.

"JJ, let go," she hissed at him, but he tugged her down harder.

"Kie, get down!" John B yelled at the other girl who was moving towards the back of the boat. Rosie glared at JJ for keeping her from helping her friend, but he was unmoving.

Rosie jumped when another shot sounded through the air. She watched Kie restlessly as she threw the net into the water and immediately ducked down. Seconds later, the boat chasing them got tangled in the net and stopped abruptly.

"Holy shit," Rosie breathed.

The teenagers all sighed in relief.

"Whoo!"

"Pogue God, man!"

John B raced the boat away from the two men and towards the Chateau. As the sun set and the last light left the sky, he pulled the boat into the dock outside his house. The Pogues all hopped off the boat as soon as it was close enough to the wood. They were jittery in anticipation of what was hidden inside the mysterious duffel bag.

"What do you think is inside?"

"It's gotta be money, right?

"Can we please just open the bag?" Pope nearly yelled.

The other four paused to look at him, wearing matching expressions of amusement.

"Wow, Pope, that's a rare outburst of emotion," John B laughed.

John B zipped the bag open in a hurried manner and pulled out a silver, tube-like container. The Pogues all remained silent and watched him twist it open. They had nearly been shot over this, so whatever was inside had to be of great value.

Excitement turned into confusion as John B emptied the tube to reveal an old, rusty compass.

"A compass?" Rosie questioned in disbelief.

"Oh, wow. Great job, everybody. We found a compass," Pope threw his hands up.

John B remained silent.

"This was my father's."

-

"We were right outside like this, and then all we hear is just BAM, BAM, BAM!"

Rosie rolled her eyes at JJ's dramatic reenactment of his afternoon with John B. The blond was all fired up and bounced in excitement. John B, on the other hand, stood stoic against a beam on his porch.

"Knocking paint of the wall from the inside! And I'm just lookin' at him like--" JJ moved to the couch where Pope and Rosie sat. He shook his hair out over them, sending white flakes everywhere. "Look at this shit!"

Rosie scoffed and shoved him away, "That's dandruff."

"Disgusting," Kie added.

"Look at all that? That's paint!" JJ pointed to his white mess. "At that point, I was just, like.. I'm waiting for death!"

Rosie cocked an eyebrow and looked back and forth between John B and JJ. "So you saw the guys that shot at us, right?" Pope ended JJ's tall tale.

"Yeah."

"Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like? Anything we can bring to a police report?"

JJ paused and gazed out of the window in contemplation before replying.

"Burly."

He turned around to lock eyes with three sour faces.

"Burly?"

"That's not helpful," Kie stated the obvious, but JJ was quick to continue talking. He must really enjoy the sound of his own voice, Rosie thought.

"Like the type of guy at my dad's garage," JJ pulled out a cigarette and lit it before continuing. "I can tell you with full confidence that these boys, these killers," he took a drag, "they're square groupers."

"Like narco square groupers?" Pope asked.

Rosie sighed while Kiara voiced her own thoughts, "You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie."

"Okay so what does this square grouper look like specifically? Because apparently, you don't know what to look for!" Pope egged JJ on for better answers.

"Dude!" JJ screamed, "I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the entire time, man, I was under duress, okay?!"

If they were in any other situation, Rosie wouldn't have hesitated to make fun of his voice crack. But now was not the time.

"But I can tell you that by the way Ms. Lana was screaming that these guys are serious hombres, man," the blond finished his rant.

"Why would they want the compass?" Kie brought them back to the task on hand.

"Yeah, that thing's a piece of shit. You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks," Pope added.

Rosie watched John B flick the compass open and closed in contemplation. He looked up from the device. Realization clouded over his face.

"The office."

All eyes were on John B.

"My dad's office. He always kept it locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research," he led them inside the house and to the forbidden room.

The office was full of papers, maps, and pictures taped on the wall, scattered on the desk, and strewn about the room. John B went straight for a cork board full of pictures, and laid it across the desk for all of them to look at. He pointed out the same compass that had been passed down in the Routledge family for generations. Rosie listened intently, as did the others. John B's eyes widened and he pulled out the compass from his pocket.

"My dad used to talk about this compartment in here. Soldiers used to hide secret notes," he spun the top of the compass and removed a piece from the inside, revealing an engraving.

"What's that?"

Redfield

"That wasn't there before," John B trailed off. "This is my dad's handwriting!"

The teenagers immediately began throwing out theories in an attempt to decipher the meaning, but Rosie shifted from the conversation. She wandered over to the book case and ran her hand over all of the labelled binders. She then inspected the maps. The rooster outside had begun crowing, so she pad towards the window and slowly peeked out from between the blinds. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. A large, black truck had pulled into John B's driveway.

"Uh, guys?" she called out, but they continued talking.

"Guys!" she yelled. They all looked over at her. "Somebody's here!"

Rosie's heart sunk as two burly men exited the vehicle.

Kie's voice trembled, "Is that them?"

JJ walked away from the window muttering under his breath. John B followed him and pushed the blond up against the door.

"JJ! Where's the gun?"

"Gun? I-uh-I can't-"

Rosie widened her eyes in disbelief, "Now you don't have the gun? The one time we actually need it?"

He ignored her and began to retrace his steps, "It was in my backpack and then I-- it's on the porch."

JJ swiftly exited the room to retrieve the weapon, but came running back seconds later at the screams of the two men.

"John Routledge!"

He quietly shut the door behind him and locked it.

"They're on the porch," JJ whispered.

For the who-knows-what-time in the past few days, Rosie's heart beat out of her chest. Her eyes widened in terror as the men shouted again and busted into the house.

"Routledge!"

"Where you at, boy?"

The teenagers all looked at each other in panic.

"Window!" Kie directed JJ and Pope to open the window while John B leaned against the door and Rosie held her ear up against the wall to listen.

"Hurry! They're getting closer," Rosie hissed at JJ and Pope who struggled to get it open.

Rosie went back and forth from having her head against the wall to looking over at the two boys.

"It's painted shut!" JJ panicked, but kept trying to force it up.

Kie found a knife which she handed over to the boys to pry the painted window open.

"Check the back room!"

Rosie's eyes widened, "Everyone shut up!"

While JJ worked at the window, the doorknob rattled. Rosie ran over to the blond to help by adding more force. Finally, by some miracle, the window gave in just as the door knob was shot by a gun.

The teenagers piled out of the room and sprinted towards the chicken coop to take shelter. First Kiara, then Rosie, JJ, Pope, and John B. The space was cramped and they had to squat together, but Rosie couldn't complain. She was too focused on not getting killed.

They waited with bated breath for the men to leave. No one uttered a word. Finally, the men exited the house with all of John B's dad's files in boxes. But the rooster had begun crowing louder and louder, and wouldn't shut up no matter what they did.

"Do something, Pope. Shut him up," JJ gritted to the boy who sat closest to the screeching bird.

"What do you want me to do?"

Tears leaked from Kie's eyes, "Pet it, or talk to it, I don't know!"

The crowing increased, and Rosie watched through a crack as one of the men looked over to the chicken coop.

"Fuck, do something," Rosie hissed menacingly at JJ, but the fear in her eyes bore through.

JJ shot forward and grabbed the rooster by the neck, holding it to the ground. The dumb bird continued crowing. Rosie watched in horror as JJ snapped the rooster's neck, pulling its head from its body. Kie was crying silently and Rosie was trembling.

JJ leaned back against the wall of the chicken coop to keep himself hidden and Rosie subconsciously gripped his hand in her own. Both of them shook violently. No one dared to move a muscle, or so much as exhale too loudly.

The men turned away and piled back into their truck. Finally, Rosie felt like she could breathe again. Kie was still crying. Despite the relief flooding the small space, no one spoke a word. JJ subtly squeezed Rosie's hand, which was still in his, before letting go and crawling out of the coop. Rosie followed, and eventually the others.

"That's enough adventure for me for one day," Rosie nearly whispered. "I have a shift at The Wreck I need to get to."

Pope nodded, "We'll let you know if anything happens."

Rosie shot him a sharp nod and a tight-lipped smile before starting down the dirt road towards her car. She felt bad for leaving so abruptly, but she had really had enough insanity for one day. She longed for some normality, even if it meant working.

So Rosie continued on her way, preparing herself for the next six hours of impatient customers, sticky sweat, and greasy food.

-

"He kissed you?!"

"Yes. But don't tell Pope or JJ. I stopped it anyways."

Rosie squealed in excitement at her friend's news. Kie had stopped by the last hour or so of Rosie's shift to help her clean while simultaneously filling her on on all she'd missed from the rest of the afternoon with the Redfield lighthouse.

"What, was he bad or something?" Rosie laughed.

"No!" Kie was quick to defend John B, and blushed upon realizing that. "No it's just--no Pogue on Pogue macking, right?"

Rosie rolled her eyes at the dumb rule, "Whatever you say." Her eyes shot to the door as it opened. A smirk took over her lips at the boy walking towards them.

"Speaking of the devil," Rosie shot Kie a look before moving over to a different table to give the pair some privacy.

She watched for a few minutes as Kie and John B spoke amongst themselves. She waited eagerly for some sign of affection--a hug, a kiss, anything--but was let down as the most she got was an awkward handshake.

John B and Kie walked over to a disappointed Rosie. "We've got a mystery to uncover," the boy spoke. "Come on!"

He lead them out to his van, where Pope and JJ sat waiting.

"Took you long enough!" the JJ as Rosie hopped into the back and Kie took the front seat.

Rosie leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, as to not embarrass her two friends, "Kie was busy friend-zoning him. They did a handshake and everything."

He let out a louder-than-necessary laugh. Kie and John B stared at JJ expectantly.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Rosie's just dumb but we all knew that," he covered, earning a glare from the short girl. She sharply elbowed him in the ribs, and Pope groaned.

"Why do I get stuck in the back with you two? It's like I'm third-wheeling a failed marriage."

This earned him laughter from the two teenagers in the front seat, and glares from the two in the back.

John B continued driving down the empty road while JJ dug out a pre-rolled joint from a case in his pocket.

"You mind if I just relax on this one? It's been a long day, a lot of weird stuff's gone down," he pulled out a lighter. "Oh, did you want a hit of this?" he purposefully skipped over Rosie and held the joint out to Pope.

"I keep the signal clear," Pope pushed it back. Rosie attempted to grab it, but JJ held it out of her reach.

John B intervened before another fight could ensue, "I know I was wrong about the lighthouse, and wrong about everything else going on. But I was right about one thing. Okay? My dad is trying to tell me something."

He parked the van outside the gate of an unlit cemetery and they all piled out, flashlights in hand. It was eerily quiet, but it didn't bother Rosie as much as she thought it would.

A cemetery is just a bunch of dead people, she thought, they can't do anything. They're dead.

"This place is scary," Kie voiced the opposite while they walked towards the rows of graves. "John B, what are we doing?"

"Okay, so you know how you're trying to remember a song and you can't remember who sings it?" he lead the group towards a large mausoleum "So, Redfield. This whole time I thought it was a place, right? But it's not a place," he held his lantern up to the name Redfield engraved on the stone, "It's a person."

"Voi-effing-là"

"It's my great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield," John B faced the rest of the group.

John B, Pope, and JJ all moved to wedge the door open, but the stone wouldn't budge. Rosie watched the boys fail miserably. A large snake came hissing and slithering out of a large crack in the door, making Rosie and Kie jump back in shock.

"Holy shit!"

"Woah!"

Pope, John B, and the girls all backed away from the animal, but JJ continued walking towards it, "That's a moccasin, alright. Ye olde, Dr. Cottonmouth!"

Rosie watched in alarm as the blond idiot began barking at the snake.

"JJ!"

"Shut up!"

Rosie pulled the elastic of his head flashlight and snapped it back, effectively cutting off his barking.

"What? They're afraid of dogs!" JJ proceeded to argue back and forth with Pope and John B, while Rosie eyed Kie's flashlight which was pointing to a huge crack in the door.

"Wait, guys, look!" Rosie directed the boys towards the opening. "We can get in through the crack."

"By we, you mean you, right?" John B raised an eyebrow at her.

Rosie frowned, "Why me?"

"You're the smallest. Best chance of fitting through," Pope spoke as if it was obvious

She sighed, but complied. With a boost from the boys and some light from Kie, Rosie found herself inside the stone structure. She scanned the area, and her eyes landed on what looked like an unopened package. She picked it up and scanned it. For Bird.

"Found something!" she called out and handed the envelope package to John B through the crack. With a leap of faith and some help from Pope, Rosie found herself back on the ground next to her friends.

"Holy shit," John B mumbled, "this is from my dad."

His moment was cut short by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Rosie whipped around to the source of the noise just as JJ warned them, "Code red. Code red. Square groupers!"

The teenagers hid behind the mausoleum. Rosie shut off her light and the others followed but John B's lantern was still shining bright.

"John B, your light!" Kie urged him, but it wouldn't go out.

Rosie peeked over the edge of the wall, and widened her eyes as two men came out of the car holding what looked like a gun.

"Guys, he's got a gun!"

"Screw this," Kie shot up and ran, the others right behind.

The teenagers sprinted towards the fence. First John B climbed over, then Kie. Rosie went to haul herself over, but instantly flinched back. She'd forgotten about her stitches.

"Shit!"

Before the panic could set in, JJ lifted the small girl off the ground, giving her enough leverage to hop over with just one hand. She glanced back at him while he hopped over the fence with ease. Rosie ran towards the van, but was stopped by Pope who was sitting on the top of the fence.

"Guys, guys! I'm stuck!"

Rosie, John B, and Kie ran back over to help pull him off. JJ stepped back and pulled out his gun, which Rosie was quick to smack out of his hands.

"JJ, no!"

Before the two could bicker, John B had yanked Pope off the fence, leaving his pants hanging behind. The teenagers laughed at their pants-less friend and piled into the van.

The adrenaline pumping through Rosie's veins was exhilarating. It was an ecstasy like no other, and she couldn't get enough. Over the past few days, Rosie had experienced the most adventure she'd felt since she was a little kid.

Rose-Ann Mae Connolly was developing a taste for adventure, and craving adventure can be a dangerous thing.

But as John B drove away and JJ passed her a joint, she didn't care. She didn't care that she was living alone, and she didn't care that she had work the next morning. All Rosie cared about was what was inside that package.

So as she took a long drag of JJ's joint, she let the craving take over.

-

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza @dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox @anahgiedd @love-bean @my--heroine @maleriefay @mrs-maybank @shawnssongs @downbytheouterbanks @lostwnoah @2410slb @daygiowvibe​ @thesailbells​

-

IM SO SORRY THIS IS ALL FILLER I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MORE EXCITING BEAR WITH ME 

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