#‘how saw v misses the mark? that’s easy. it doesn’t. next question!’

[white-weasel]

Ummmm he’s not missing though? He’s right there? 🙄

[theaviskullguy]

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

[lovlydovlyjaycie]

The Waling Dead/ Supernatural: A World Changed

Hii so this is gonna be a story about a crossover but also not really a crossover from the walking dead and supernatural.

Summary: Y/N is from Boston and moved to Los Angeles to be a nanny, she’s been doing it for a while now and loves the two, soon to be three, children like they were her own. One day she goes to work and it seems like the world around her is falling apart. People are dying, unbeknowst to her they are coming back to live. She is trying to find a way so she stays alive and the people around her too and she needs help, but she’d rather does it on her own.

Characters: Y/N, OC Alice, OC Mark, OC Birdy, OC Clark, OC Jayden,  Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and more characters to come.

Masterlist

In the pines - Janel Drewis

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6Yj0TC4BJs

Part 3 Where did you sleep

I looked at Clark and Jayden, hoping the decision I was about to make wasn’t the wrong one. “We’ll go with you-.” I started. “Great, we’ll be headed that way then.” Sam said happily. “Wait. We’ll go with you under the condition that we can leave when ever we want.” Sam and Dean looked at each other, most likely not knowing why I want that specific request. “We don’t see why that would be a problem.” Sam stated.

“Alright so if we guys are done chitchatting, I think it’s a good time to head towards the bunker.” Dean said as he was pointing towards the direction we were supposed to go. We all started walking. “Wait.. a bunker? You said you were with thirty six people.. how big is this bunker you’re talking about?” It was either a very big bunker.. maybe owned by the military and I’m not sure if I wanna go to a place like that. Or a very small bunker. “Yup a bunker. It’s pretty big. Some families stay in the same room, that’s why we still have extra space. It’s also a very old one. When we found it, it had been abandoned for a long time.” Dean explained. So it was most likely not military owned or at least not anymore. “But how did you get in, cause isn’t that the point of a bunker.. you know.. to keep things out.” I asked Dean and he smiled. It was all a little strange. “We had a key.” I looked at him narrowing my eyes. “How’d you get it?” Now Dean was slightly laughing. I didn’t think it was funny it sounded too perfect. “You ask a lot of questions don’t ya.” Dean stated. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it some time.” He said dismissively. You know what.. I thought that was fair enough. I wouldn’t want to tell my whole personal story either to a stranger. And so we all kept on walking, me holding Jayden and Clark staying close to me.

~

It took us about an hour to get to the car. I carried Jayden almost the whole way. They both had offered me to carry him, but I didn’t trust them yet. On the way we saw a few dead ones. After Sam and Dean found the car we drove for about fifteen minutes before we got to their bunker. We got there about late in the afternoon, but I was exhausted.

Outside of the bunker they had a gate build around it. The gate was definitely build after the world ended, but it still looked sturdy. It wasn’t too high either, I bet if you take a run towards the gate you can easily jump over otherwise just climb over when ever id get the chance. That would be a good way out if it was ever needed. Also not too many people were guarding the place, right now just two. A blonde girl who looked about my age, so early twenties I’m guessing. And a woman who looks to be in her forties, she had short dark hair and stern eyes.

“Hey Jody! Open up!” Dean said to the short haired woman. Jody. Try to remember that. Jody walked towards the gate with a gun hanging from her shoulder. The gate wasn’t really locked. That could also be an easy way out, very obvious though. I was just trying to come up with different plans of escape for if they did end up deciding that I couldn’t just leave.

Dean started driving in and waved at Jody and the blonde girl when we got in. Jody smiled at me, I just gave her an awkward smile back. Inside I could only see a few cars parked against the wall. Also good, that would give me cover. Dean parked the car next to the others and got out. He opened me door as well. “So this is our home.. I know doesn’t look like much, but it’s more than enough.” Dean told me as I got out of the car. “This is Jody and Claire.” Sam came walking up behind me with Jody and the other blonde woman. I put on the best fake smile I could come up with and introduced myself. “Hi I’m y/n. Nice to meet you.” I still said with some awkwardness, couldn’t be too excited about this, cause then I know Sam and Dean would have questions. Jayden and Clark both climbed out of the car and looked around. “Oh and this is Clark and this is Jayden.” I pointed at them and picked Jayden up. He felt so heavy now because I was so tired. “Oh we don’t have kids here that are this small and cute, how nice.” She started to walk up to Clark and bend down. “Hi there, I’m Jody.” She said and put her hand out. Clark looked at me and I immediately stood between them. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anybody here and I’m not letting them touch my children until I do. “He’s shy.” I said awkwardly. Jody looked a little disappointed but stood up and the disappointment disappeared on her face. “We really got to get back to guarding this place.” Claire said. Thank you I thought. Little too awkward for my liking. Jody agreed and said her goodbyes before she walked back to the gate to guard it with Claire.

“Well, we’ll just give you a quick tour of the place and then we’ll leave you to it.” Dean said. He showed me that the had some crops growing and had a few goats. There were apparently more animals but they weren’t inside these gates. Strange. Then he showed me the door of the bunker. I felt this rush coming. I didn’t know what to expect. What is they trapped me here now. I I walk in there is most likely not a way out, or at least not one that I know of. Sam opened the door and we started to walk in. It was indeed very big and it looked old. There were a few people hanging out by the stairs and I saw some older kids running around.

The people all looked friendly enough, but that still didn’t mean I trust them. Sam said something about him getting the few things I had and putting them in the room I’d be staying in. Dean was still giving me the lay out of everything and introducing me to a lot of people.. there I no way I’m gonna remember all of their names. And then eventually we got to my room.

“So this is a combined room. They’re connected. We don’t have any toys or anything for kids that are that small, but we’ll be on the look out for them when we go on a run in a couple of days.” That is very nice. “You don’t need to do that...” I started, that was honestly a simple kindness I haven’t had I from anyone in a while. “No, it’s no problem. I mean you are all one of us now. So what ever they or you need just tell us and we’ll be on the look out.” Dean said. One of them I felt conflicted. But I just thanked him, I didn’t know what else to say. “We’ll I think Sam already dropped your bag of in your room here. You guys are probably tired, so I’ll leave you to it. We also have showers just down the hall.. I forgot to show you those, but you can’t miss it. It’s just down the hall on the left.” He smiled. I was very grateful. “Thank you Dean. I’m just gonna put them down to sleep I guess and then look for that shower. Haven’t had that in a while.” I laughed awkwardly, but it sounded so nice. I was about to walk in the room to go put Clark and Jayden down. They were so tired, Jayden even fell asleep while Dean was still showing me around. “Oh and by the way, there is always food in the kitchen that you can just take. Donna usually makes the best food and she’ll happily take any requests.” I was standing in the door now. “Thank you. I’ll have a look later.” I smiled and was about to close the door. “Oh sorry and also if you need anything my room is just two doors down, number eleven.” I slightly laughed, by how awkward this was. “Thank you Dean. Anything else before I close the door.” I said jokingly. Dean laughed too. “No I think that’s it, sorry about that. Have a goodnight or rest of your day.” It wasn’t really late yet, probably around 6 or something, but still I was exhausted. “Thank you, goodnight Dean.” He said his goodnight and walked away. Finally I was putting Jayden and Clark down in the room that was attached and they instantly fell asleep.

I decided to try out the shower and then just go to sleep, I’ll just eat when I wake up.

~ Day 734

After my shower I went straight to bed. And oh boy I have to tell you that I don’t even remember the time I slept this well. I was laying spread out on the bed. It’s been so long since I had a bed to myself. I think the last time I had a bed for myself was before this all started. Taking a deep sigh I just wanted to enjoy this moment. I am surprised that neither Jayden or Clark wanted to crawl in bed with me. It was something they were used to. I was used to that as well. Thinking about it, I haven’t heard them at all yet. I know they both love sleeping and they were exhausted, but usually they are still early risers. I decided to quickly get out of bed, get dressed and check in the room that was attached to mine to check on them. I couldn’t get dressed quicker.. are they ok or are they still sleeping. What if these people did something to them. All this worry started to flow in. Sam and Dean said it was safe here. I trusted them. When I was finally dressed I almost ran to the their door. When I opened it I frantically looked around the room. They weren’t there. ‘’SHIT!’’

I ran out the room and started looking in the hallway. ‘‘CLARK! JAYDEN!’‘ Where could they be. I half run half walked down the hall and came by door eleven. Dean’s room. I considered asking him for help, but I am not sure if I can trust him. Maybe this was a stupid decision to trust people that easily. I should’ve never came here. I kept on walking, looking for Clark and Jayden. I was about to cry how could I be this stupid.

Then I came by the kitchen and I saw Clark and Jayden sitting at the table with a woman with blonde hair they had food in front of them. ‘‘Clark, Jayden, what are you doing.’‘ I said trying to stay as calm as possible. ‘‘Did you eat anything?’‘ My heart was pounding almost out of my chest. ‘‘Oh hiya! I’m Donna. I heard your kids this morning and they were peeking their heads out of the door. So I made some breakfast for them, there’s more if you’d like some.’‘ She said with a smile on her face. I took  a few steps closer to the table trying to see what food she gave them. Eggs, a slice of bread and sausage. That worried me. ‘‘Did they eat anything yet?’‘ Donna noticed that my face was worried. ‘‘Uhm no not yet, I just finished making it. Are they allergic to something. I’m so sorry.’‘ As donna was saying that Jayden took a bite of the sausage. ‘‘Spit it out Jayden!’‘ I said frantically. I quickly went to Jayden and forced his mouth open. I completely ignored Donna’s question. ‘‘Jayden I said spit it out.’‘ When Jayden finally did he started crying. ‘‘It’s ok Jayden.’‘ I tried shushing him. Still freaking out. I realized she had good intentions, but they are strangers. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. ‘‘Is everything alright?’‘ Dean walked in and asked. They’ll probably think I’m crazy. ‘‘Its alright. I- I just..’‘ I sighed. ‘‘ I would just like to know what my children eat. They’re not allergic to anything. I’d just like to know where it comes from.’‘ I told Dean and Donna. I sound insane. ‘’Uhm friends of ours have farms.. If that answers your question?’‘ Dean said unsure. I mean how are you supposed to answer a question like that. ‘‘I just- I can’t take your word for that.’‘ This is such a weird conversation. How am I supposed to explain why I’m acting so crazy all of a sudden. I should’ve just stayed out of here. Maybe I should just leave, then they don’t have to worry why I’m acting crazy and I don’t have to worry about stupid little things. ‘‘Ya know I think Dean here could show you the farms if that would be a good solution.. for this.’‘ Donna said unsure as well. I stood up from kneeling next to Jayden and looked down. ‘‘I know, I’m sorry. I- I have my reasons why I act crazy about that.’‘ I could almost cry from this embarrassment. ‘’It’s alright y/n, you don’t need to explain. I can take you to the farm tomorrow and then you can judge for yourself.. if you like what you see or not.’‘ Dean said reassuring. Very kind of him, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about if this was the right thing to do.. to stay that is. If I’m freaking out about something like that, maybe I just should never have come in the first place. I felt bad, not just for them but also for Clark and Jayden. Maybe it is better to just leave and not have them be bothered with my issues. I have seen the ways I could get out. I’m happy I did. But it is better to not let them suspect anything. So that’s why I answer ‘‘Yes, I’d really appreciate that.’‘ I answered Dean.

We all had breakfast together, just not any meat for me, Clark and Jayden. We small talked. What it was like before. Donna was an police officer, which Clark thought was really cool. He told Donna he had seen police toys before and really liked them. ‘’Well Clark, when ever we go out to look for supplies, I’ll be on the look out for some police toys for ya, alright.’’ Clark smiled at that. I could see that he was very excited about that. ‘’So Dean what did you do before all this?’’ I asked. ‘’Oh I was a mechanic.’’ Dean answered. Something told me that that wasn’t true. I am not sure why. So I decided to press further. ‘’You don’t look like a mechanic.’’ I squinted my eyes. I don’t know what answer I was looking for, but I know for some reason he was not telling the truth. ‘’I don’t look l like I know how to fix a car?’’ He half laughed. ‘’I didn’t say that, but I don’t know.. you have any hobbies?’’ Maybe that will make more sense. ‘’I hunted.’’ Dean said. That sounded true, but I was still not convinced. Hunting? ‘’You hunted what?’’ Dean looked a little uneasy with that question.. Which made me want to ask even more questions. ‘’Hey Dean you ready to guard?’’ Sam chimed in. ‘’Welp, duty calls.’’ Dean couldn’t say more quickly. He started walking away with Sam. That was a little annoying. Why couldn’t he answer the question?

 ~

A little later in the day I decided to gather some food and necessities. If I did end up leaving I’d be ready to do so. Clark and Jayden were both taking a nap, they were both so exhausted still. I decided to quickly take a walk around outside to see what would be the best way out. The front door was usually left open, probably because it was so loud and people keep walking in and out. That’s a good thing, cause the door looks very heavy.. especially when you have two kids with you. I think I really have my mind made up, about leaving. It would be for the best. I can take care of Clark and Jayden myself. I don’t have to worry about anything other people want or expect. It would be for the best.. right?

Deep in thought I was searching around for a way out when I bumped in to Donna. ‘’Oh sorry dear.’’ Donna said. ‘’No it’s my fault I wasn’t paying attention.’’ I awkwardly smiled. I looked to the boy or teenager that was standing next to her. ‘’Again I’m really sorry about this morning. I should’ve waited and asked.’’ She really looked like she felt bad. But it really was my fault how could they know, how could they expect that I would react about something like that in such a way. ‘’It’s alright you didn’t know.’’ I told Donna. ‘’You know we are truly happy that you’re here you know that right. I mean you bring these beautiful little children with you. We only got teenagers like Jack here.’’ Donna pointed with her thumb over to Jack. ‘’We haven’t met yet.’’ Jack said in a very happy but stiff way. ‘’No we haven’t I’m y/n.’’ I put my hand out to introduce myself. ‘’Jack. You’re children look lovely.’’ He said while giving me an awkward smile. It was nice that Donna apologized again, but I wanted nothing more than to get out of this conversation. ‘’Sorry, I wanted to quickly look around here, cause I didn’t see a lot when I came in yesterday.’’ Donna nodded her head and they went on with whatever they were doing.

Walking around for a bit longer I saw Dean. That answer he gave me earlier today about hunting kept bugging me for some reason. He seemed like a nice enough man. All of them seemed nice and genuine enough, but just that answer kept bothering me. I mean he could just hunt animals, but something in me was saying that that wasn’t true and the only other answer I could come up with was manhunter. And I don’t want Clark and Jayden to be around someone like that. Even though both answers seemed wrong. I decided to just ask him again and if I feel like he’s telling the truth it means I stay and if I feel like he’s lying, I’ll leave tonight.

‘‘Hey Dean, How are you?’‘ I asked while I was walking up to him. He turned around and smiled. ‘‘Hey, how are ya liking it here so far?’‘ He asked it felt like he was genuinely interested in what I had to answer. ‘‘It’s nice, quiet.’‘ He smiled at that. ‘‘Yes it’s not much, but its enough. Also nice that basically no one lives in Kansas.. Not a lot of dead ones.’‘ I smiled at that, that is true. ‘‘Were did you say you were from?’‘ Dean asked. ‘‘Los Angeles, so it’s a long way.’‘ I answered. I kinda missed it, but I can’t imagine being there. Probably so many dead ones over there. ‘‘That is far, why did you decide to leave and end up here.’‘ He asked. ‘‘It seemed like a good decision. Less people. Less problems.’‘ It was the truth.. not the complete truth. ‘‘You are definitely right about the second part.’‘ There was a bit of a silence. A little tension maybe. I decided to not think about that and look around over the gate that Dean was guarding. There was a lot of cover from the trees. That would be a good way to escape. I just still haven’t asked Dean about the hunting. ‘’So are there a lot of animals here?’’ I asked Dean. ‘’What?’’ I looked at him now. ‘’You know for you hunting hobby.’’ He was caught off guard by this. ‘’Oh, uhm, yeah not too much over here though.’’ He said a bit uneasy trying not to look at me. ‘’What do you hunt?’’ I asked. ‘’Just whatever people were being bothered by.’’ That didn’t seem like a lie. ‘’What was the most common thing you hunted?’’ I kept on pressing further. ‘’You gotta lot of questions.’’ He said and laughed awkwardly. ‘’That’s good though, know what you’re dealing with. But mostly like birds.’’ That was a lie and I think we both knew that it was. ‘’Interesting.. I think I gotta go back inside and check on Clark and Jayden.’’ We both said our awkward goodbyes and I started walking away. Behind me I heard Dean going over the walkie. ‘’Sammy we need to talk.’’

That’s it Dean gave me the answer and lied. It’s time for me to leave.

...

..

.

Let me know what you think of this part.. I know it was kinda all over the place lol

[bangtanlalaland]

situationship 「prologue」 | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳you recall the moment you made the worst yet best mistake of your life that involves your best friend: Namjoon Kim.

--

— college!au

���pairing: college student!kim namjoon x female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 5.2k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: kissing, unprotected sex (remember: no glove, no love!) slight degradation/pet names (basically being called a cock-slut lollol) daddy kink, mentions of sexting, joon is huge, (srsly he’s packed downstairs so plz be prepared) mentions of masturbation, oral (m + f receiving), nipple piercings, hair pulling, ass slapping, creampie, overstimulation, breath play, (just a little lol) face-fucking

title inspired by: “situationship” by snoh aalegra

a/n: HIIII U HOES, so sorry i haven’t posted in v long, life has me all over the place. so here’s my valentine’s day gift from me to u so plz forgive me. a special thank you to everyone that has shown me love for “in case we die” & “the final touch,” promise i have more content on the way!! LOVE U HOES 💘

prologue 「sixty minutes」 

It was all so easy. Fleeing to him in an instant whenever he’d hit you with the:

“Are you up? I need you rn” text.

Maybe you’re just a fool, but you simply cannot resist him. No, you aren’t dating. Of course not because that would be silly, right? You’re just best friends. Best friends who occasionally fuck each other’s brains out. You didn’t like putting a label on it either, especially the “friends-with-benefits” one. And that was the problem. This entire situationship being a never ending cycle:

You both have sex ⟶ You get caught up in your feels ⟶ You come to your own conclusion that you’ll break it off with him ⟶ He texts you saying that he “needs” you and how much he misses being inside of you ⟶ Lastly, you go back to him - repeating the process all over again.

And here you are again, riding the hell out of your “friend” Namjoon.

“Yeah, just like that.. ride this fucking dick, fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, slapping and gripping your ass cheeks as you continue to ride him.

“Daddy!” Your head thrown back in ecstasy at how his thick cock fills you up completely. In this moment, all of your feels and doubts of ever getting into this situation with him - gone. Your ultimate goal is to cum on his cock, for what is now probably the thousandth time.

But you love it. You love how amazing he feels inside you. How he can make you feel good beyond limits, and how he pleases you in ways you didn’t think was possible. And Namjoon loves it too. The power he has to make you writhe and scream his name strokes his ego tremendously. He loves that he’s the only man in this entire world that knows what it’s like to hear your moans as he fucks you continuously.

How he’s the only man to ever see your lips part, eyes shut tight, and body tremble as your walls contract around his shaft, being completely drowned within your orgasm - all because of him.

This whole fling first started when he supposedly “accidentally” sent you a dick pic. Apparently you weren’t the intended recipient. You were stunned, not so much that he sent you a photo of his cock but it was the size of him + including the vulgar message sent with the photo itself:

From: joonie 🤩 11:17 pm

My cock is throbbing rn. So horny and in the mood to bend you over and fuck you until your body gives out.

The moment you opened the message, your mouth instantly salivated and your core throbbed with anticipation. It was almost as if he knew exactly what you were doing in that moment because when you got his notification, you were busy watching porn paired with your fingers inside of your cunt. For the past 4 years you’d known Joon, you never put much thought into what his dick may look like.

It was perfectly sculpted, and obviously hard as a brick with a slight curve. You could faintly see a small leak of precum oozing from his juicy, flesh-tone tip. Considering that he messaged you at just the right moment, when your hormones are at its peak, you reply:

To: joonie 🤩 11:20 pm

mmm, please... never knew how thick you are. would love to feel you stretching me out 🥵

And in that moment, you couldn’t believe what you’d just started. The tension between your legs taking over you completely. Nothing but lust oozed from your actions. Finally seeing that sexting your best friend was literally the perfect way to orgasm all over your fingers, you softly chanted his name to yourself. Imagining him standing before you stroking himself with his delicious member. After releasing yourself of your tension, you felt somewhat guilty and awkward that you’d just came to a picture of your best friends cock AND sexted him.

You also pondered who he really meant to send the photo to, which caused you to relish in your feels for the remainder of the night as you sheepishly attempted to fall asleep in your frozen, lonely bed. Part of you liked to think that you were blessed he even sent it to you. But after that night, everything changed. You hadn’t heard from him the next day until later that night asking if you were awake. You simply brushed it off and didn’t bother opening up the message, that way he wouldn’t know if you read it or not.

The reason mainly being that you were afraid he’d want to sext again. Throughout the week, you’d cross paths in certain periods on campus, but you tried in your willpower to avoid him at ALL costs. It all came down to you being aware of your surroundings to make sure he didn’t see you before you saw him. And when you would see him from a distance, you’d instantly turn the other way or hide until the coast was clear. You remembered he would even text you asking where you were since he hadn’t seen you since that day, and you would lie to him saying you were busy studying for exams or running an errand. When in reality, you were at your single room dorm, stuffing your face with gelato and watching Netflix.

The way you now saw Namjoon was so much differently. You both share one class together every Wednesday, and he took the opportunity to sit beside you considering that he hadn’t seen you since before that night. Being near him made you antsy, and you found yourself giving him short responses, making hardly any eye contact. He noticed this and was not happy about it. The distance you kept between him since that night worried him non-stop.

The constant question of: “What the fuck was I thinking?” flooded his mind everyday.

After two weeks of putting up with your edgy behavior, he decided that it was enough. It’s Saturday and yet again, you told him you were studying in the schools library and he knew that was bullshit. Because you have no classes on Saturday, you work during the school week, are off every weekend, and he’d already checked the library. Obviously you were not there, and it pissed him off that you were blowing him off like this. At least, not in the way he’d like to be blown by you.

He marched around campus making his way to your dorm. The sound of your door being knocked on startled you as you were warming up a yakisoba bowl in the microwave. You stand up onto your tippy toes to peek through the peephole. Your entire insides perform a back flip as you notice your best friend standing on the other side of the door. He runs his fingers through his blonde mullet, strands of purple at the tips, his arm resting on the doorframe, and he does not look happy. After not getting a response, he gives a few more hard knocks urging you to open the door.

“Come on, ____. I know you’re in there. We need to talk!”

Fuck. You think to yourself and take a deep breath. He obviously was not going to let up, you know Joon. Your fingers nervously unloosen the lock on the door and grasp the handle pulling it open slowly. Namjoon’s eyes snap up, his breath caught in his throat as he gazes you up and down with those familiar, wide, monolids that could captivate anyone who looks his way. His lips part gradually, and his tongue glides across his bottom lip. It wasn’t until you saw his expression that you noticed you were attired in the shortest pajama shorts you have along with a sleeveless, white tank and no bra. The imprint of your barbell piercings that decorate your nipples clearly visible. Of course, Namjoon wasn’t aware you had these said piercings. You instantly crossed your arms, wanting to hide from his gaze.

Finally breaking the silence he slips, “Nice library you have here. Sure doesn’t look like one though.”

You sigh dramatically and roll your eyes, “Seriously?”

Namjoon steps inside, welcoming his own self in without giving you time to do so yourself. He slowly treads inside, removing his Nikes by the door then flopping down on your loveseat, his legs spread wide open. An awkward silence overtakes your dorm, yet you continue with your antics and into the kitchen to grab your chopsticks so you could finish making your instant yakisoba. Joon notices this and silently follows you into the kitchen. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you feel his presence behind you. You look up and feel his hand placed over yours, resulting in you dropping your chopsticks. Your body naturally responds and jerks around now facing him.

“Joon-”

He continues his gaze, looking deeply into your eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you in that moment of time. His features looked so mesmerizing. You adored the tiny beauty marks that decorate his face, especially the one that sits below his bottom lip; flying strands of his bleach, blonde, hair catch your attention. After an entire week of not paying him any attention, you had nearly forgotten how physically attractive Namjoon is. It is almost sickening, and this is one of the many reasons why you wish you hadn’t started this thing. His stare softens, almost as if he’s thinking. His fingers gracefully caress your cheek, your body naturally responds - shivering under his touch.

“____, what’s been going on with you?"

Unable to form coherent words, you simply respond, “Nothing.” You shift yourself, turning your back to him breaking the contact he once had on your cheek. You hear a deep sigh emit from Namjoon.

“Goddammit, there you go again!” Your eyes widen at the sound of him raising his voice.

“What?!” You retort, slamming your chopsticks down and turning your gaze back to him with raised brows.

“You’re lying. Again. First the library, and now this. I know something’s wrong with you. You’ve practically been avoiding me all week!”

Your eyes shut immediately, trying to hold back anything stupid from slipping out of your lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me since...” he trails off, and you open your eyes to find him with his arms crossed, head hung low.

“Joonie..” You attempt to muster up the correct form to continue your sentence. His wide eyes staring back at you, waiting for an answer.

“I just can’t.. I-I can’t look at you the same way, you know? I don’t know it’s just weird. Just knowing what you, um..”

Joon scoffs, shaking his head, “Then why lead me on?”

Your snap your neck to the side giving him a ‘Really?’ look. “I lead you on?” Your tone dipped in a bit of sassiness.

“You are the one that sent me a picture of your dick! And you want to blame me for it?”

Namjoon blinks rapidly, somewhat taken aback by your tone.

“Well, y-yeah. I mean, you played along with it.” He responds, scratching the back of his neck and hanging his head low again. Truth is, he lied to you too. He didn’t exactly “accidentally” send you that photo. He meant for you to see it. For months, he’d contemplated how he should approach his feelings toward you. All the while, he felt it was a stupid idea, but he also thought it would be a hit or miss. He tends to act out before fully thinking about his actions, and that’s just one of his many weaknesses. You, of course, being his main one.

Deep down you knew he wasn’t lying, because you both know each other long enough to know enough about one another. Yet another silence lingers throughout the space. You sigh in exhaustion, pulling your thoughts together.

“Yes... I did.” Namjoon looks up and locks eyes with you. To him, you look incredibly delectable with the shape of your bare tits, along with your piercings, poking through the light fabric of your tank. His eyes are no longer soft, they’re dark and lustful. Just being under his gaze, gets you warmer by the second. It’s like he’s cooking you with his own eyes, and you are sizzling right now.

His lips part, as he slowly inches toward you.

“Did you like it?” He probes with a hint of curiosity behind the question.

You take a deep breath, looking dead-straight into his eyes while brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Y-yes, I really did.” You say, barely a whisper. Namjoon hums in response, lightly grazing his index finger across your shoulder and down your arm. You’re not sure why but your core suddenly tingled at the simple, physical contact. Causing you to gasp lowly.

“Do you want.. what we said we would do to each other that night? Because, I want you in ways that you don’t understand.” He smirks at your sudden action of rubbing your thighs together. You hum in approval. He runs his index and middle finger across your lips,

“I want to hear you say it, pretty baby.” The sudden pet name made you slip a moan you’re sure he heard.

“I want you, Joonie. Want you to stuff me with your thick cock.” You play along and guide your hands to rub his arms and broad shoulders up and down, looking up at him with innocent-like puppy dog eyes. Just the sight of you alone makes him want to shove his cock so far down your throat, making you gag on it with watery eyes. His growing erection becomes noticeable beneath his sweats. His hands make their way down your side, gripping your waist. He leans down to whisper in your ear,

“Imma beat that pussy like you never ever felt before.”

Your kitty cat clenches around emptiness, desperately wanting to be filled. Before you had a chance to respond, Namjoon pulls away and presses his lips on yours. You naturally wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. The faint smell of his cologne, masked with notes of orange, mint, and cinnamon reel you in to heighten your arousal. His pink, pillow-y lips play a game of tug of war, lightly grazing his teeth along your bottom lip. Your kisses filled with pent-up tension and longing for one another.

He pulls away from your lips and lifts you up, your legs naturally wrapping themselves around his waist as he leads you over to the loveseat and sits down, straddling yourself on top of him. He grips your waist, running his large hands across your ass. You follow the rhythm of his hands and grind against his clothed erection, wanting some type of friction to ease your libido all while gaining a sexy moan from him. Namjoon works one of his hands up into your hair, lightly tugging on it to give him access to your neck.

“Mmm, Joonie.” Your eyes shut as a response to his lips smothering your jawline and neck with wet kisses. Your fingers get lost within the forest that’s his mullet. He continues his trail up to your earlobe, gently nibbling on it.

“Want you.. So bad.. Have no idea.” He slips in between breaths. His deep voice rumbling from his chest, creating a vibration that streams throughout your body ending at your core.

“Want you too, so much.” You respond, pulling away to glance into his eyes, the color like deep pools of medium, roast coffee. He caresses your face, tracing circles on your cheek and presses his lips against yours again. The silky, wet feeling of his plush lips persuades you to pursue your previous actions of grinding. He snakes his hands up to lightly massage your breasts. The sudden motion of your piercings causing you to moan within his mouth.

Namjoon tugs at the hem of your tank and you follow along, tossing the material away on the floor while helping him to remove his basic tee. Your bare chest exposed to him, nipples cool, hardened, and aching for attention. You hear him whisper a “Fuck,” under his breath. His warm embrace sends shivers down your spine, as he desperately caresses your tits. You take this moment to admire the golden tone of his bare skin, so smooth yet such chiseled features.

“When did you get these?” Namjoon questions, gently sliding your piercing back and forth.

“Hmm.. last spring break!”

“So sexy,” He slips, while using his index and middle finger to lightly pinch your other nipple. The piercings make your nipples so much more sensitive to even the slightest touch. Namjoon licks your left nipple in slow circles, while watching your reaction. He gently wraps his lips around you, sucking your nipple with such soft care. The warm, wetness of his tongue and smooth, plushness of his lips soothes and excites you at the same time. Your kitty clenching and gushing, full of arousal and hot and ready for him. He uses his other hand to sneak into your shorts and past your panties. His slender fingers find your drenched folds, coating his digits with your juice.

Your fingernails softly graze over his scalp, as you throw your head back calling his name. He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, humming into you as a response.

“Are you really this wet for your best friend, hm? Does Daddy turn you on this much?”

“Mmm, yes Joonie..” His erection growing by the second, and you can feel it twitch beneath you in his sweats. “Such a dirty girl, want to be cock slut for your own best friend.”

He pulls his fingers from you and you silently whimper at the loss of his touch. Your eyes pry open and find him with his eyes closed, tasting your arousal that was left on his fingers. He moans at the taste. “Mmm... Heavenly.”

The small compliment making you blush and grow warmer between your thighs. Surprisingly, he slips his fingers back into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in circles. Making you gasp in shock,

“Joonie...” You look down at him, caressing his smooth strands. He slips a finger inside of you, pushing in and out. You move your hips along his rhythm, as he slips another finger inside of you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure your core feels, emitting more wetness onto his fingers while creating squelching noises as Namjoon continues to finger your pussy. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, mimicking the tightness of the coil in the pit of your tummy.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers, pretty baby.” Namjoon commands, while slipping his fingers from your pussy, focusing on your clit, rubbing with just the perfect amount of pressure. Absolutely enough to make you cum on the spot. Your moans slip from you uncontrollably.

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” Namjoon coos, while continuously circling your clit with your fingers, all while watching you writhe above him.

“Y-you, J-J-,” Unable to even finish your sentence, your fingers lose their place within his hair. Your body continues shaking from cumming so hard.

“That’s right. Only me. Just look at you, pretty baby. Losing yourself all over your best friends fingers. Only I can do that, hm? Only I can make you feel this good.”

You push his hand away, whining at the overstimulation. Finally he lets up and licks his fingers clean. Still twitching, you glide your fingers down to meet his crotch, massaging him through his clothing.

“Can I... Please? Need you in my mouth.” He eyes your motions and moans in approval. You climb off of him and sit on your knees between his legs. He lifts up to help you remove his sweats. His member visibly shown through his Calvin Klein briefs. It’s so stiff and hard. Your hand finds itself rubbing him again, as you kiss along his thighs. Slowly teasing and finally reaching his cock through the material covering it.

“Fuck... such a tease. You’re a good baby, for Daddy.. Right?”

You look up at him and nod.

“Speak, pretty baby.” He probes, lifting your chin up with his fingers.

“Y-yes I am.”

“Yes what?” Namjoon groans, his voice much harder than before.

You shift slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor, your arousal growing thicker. You thought it was sexy though, how he was now taking control.

“Yes, Daddy..”

He smiles that pretty smile and pets your hair.

“Good girl.” You take this chance to pull his briefs down just enough that his cock springs straight up. Your jaw drops open at the size of him. Pictures couldn’t compare to the real thing, your mouth instantly salivating at his thick length, his bulbous tip the perfect color, matching the shade of his lips and dripping with precum. You moan at the sight of him, wrapping your fingers around him, you gently stroke, sticking your tongue out to taste the bit of liquid oozing.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling, you teasing him with kitten licks. His grasp on your hair gets tighter, “Please don’t tease, baby. Daddy has waited so long to have those pretty lips around his cock.” You took this as a cue to finally encase your lips around him, starting with his tip. His chest rumbles as a moan erupts from within. You swirl your tongue around the tip, sucking tightly while massaging his balls.

“Fuck!” Without warning, Joon bucks his hips upward to get himself further into your mouth, his grip on your hair becomes tighter as he pushes your head down further to take his entire length inside your mouth. You’re taken by surprise at his pace, and almost choke, as your hands now drop on top of his thighs lightly grazing with your nails while Namjoon fucks your face. Literally. You shut your eyes wanting to focus on keeping your gag reflex under control, keeping your throat relaxed, your saliva oozing out and coating Namjoon’s cock and balls creating lewd noises within your tight-spaced dorm.

“Shit yes... Look at Daddy with that pretty fucking face of yours.” He stops his thrusting, holding your head down still. You manage to open your eyes and move your gaze toward his. With water eyes, streams of tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You’re on the brink of losing your breath. The sight of you full of his cock, almost out of breath makes him want to blow his load all over your face. But if he’s going to cum, he has to inside of you.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” Namjoon finally releases his grip from you, resulting in you letting out a massive gasp, coughing to sync your breathing back to normal. A trail of spit still connecting from his soaked cock to your lips. “Shorts off now.” Namjoon demands. You slip your finger under the hem to pull them down until he interrupts, “Turn around so I can see that ass.”

You jump slightly at his deep voice. His act of dominance making you clench around nothing as you squeeze your thighs together, needing some type of friction. This doesn’t go unnoticed. Your shorts fall to the floor, revealing your bottom that’s clothed with a pair of silk, purple panties that are cut short enough to show your full cheeks. Suddenly, you feel a sharp slap to your right cheek, making you whimper out loud.

“Look at you all horny and desperate for your own best friends dick. I should fuck you until you can’t think of anything else other than my dick.” And another harsh slap.

“Mmm, fuck!” Another slap. Namjoon reaches forward to aggressively pull your panties down. He lifts you up and carries you over his shoulder to your bedroom, throwing you on the bed. Your pussy throbs in anticipation, loving how rough he’s being with you.

Namjoon wastes no time as he aggressively pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs open as wide as they can go. He uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips open, revealing yourself all to him. Pulsing and soaked. “Mmm. Such a pretty little pussy. I’ve waited so long to finally bury my dick inside of you.” He coos while stroking your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, while caressing your cheek. He uses his other hand to grab his cock, slapping your pussy with his cock. Your hips naturally bucking to get some type of friction. He continues coating his cock in your juices, smirking as you whimper in anticipation.

“Pretty baby, so horny and wet for Daddy’s cock.” Your fingers anxiously grip the bedsheets, as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Namjoon hisses as he easily slips inside of your tight kitty. Your eyes shut closed, lips parting, “Oh my fuck,” you moan while gripping his toned, caramel arms. His girthy length offering a slight burn, finally over-rided by a nostalgic tinglyness. The feeling is like no other. To have someone you trust, someone you care about, offering their entire self to you. To have all of Namjoon within you.

“So warm. So wet. Fuck... You feel amazing, ____.” Namjoon fucks you with long and deep strokes, making the bed creak with each thrust. He continues this slow pace, relishing in the feel of your walls clamping around his stiff shaft. You know he’s trying his hardest not to cum so fast. However, the tingly feeling within your core has skyrocketed, and you’re ready to burst any moment now. 

“P-please,” you whimper, attempting to move your hips along with his at a faster pace.

“What does my pretty baby want, hm?” Namjoon notices your expression and comes to a halt.

“Please fuck me harder, Joonie, please!” you whine while grinding your hips to create some type of friction. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your desperation for him. “Have you forgotten your manners, princess?” He asks, with a smirk pinching your left cheek.

You groan in response. “Please, Daddy! Just need to be fucked harder, please! My pussy needs you.”

“That’s a good girl,” He pats your head and slips out of you, gripping your waist to flip you over flat on your tummy. He holds his weight on top of you, spreading your legs open to push his cock entirely into you. The angle of the position creates a more “deep” feeling, He’s so deep inside of you, you promise you feel him in your tummy. Your mouth flying agape, Namjoon leans forward to whisper in your ear while pounding from on top. “Be careful what you ask for.”

“You. Just. Might. Get. It.” He emphasizes his deep thrusts after each word. Your cries are muffled within the sheets while Joon continues to ram you from on top, his lower pelvic area literally slamming your body further and further into the full sized-bed. “Ungh, fuck y-yes! Please don’t stop!” Your dorm neighbors can probably hear your cries but at this point you don’t even care.

“Take this fucking dick like the good little cock-hungry slut you are, pretty baby.” Namjoon moans at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, drenching him in your sticky wetness. So tight, and slippery for his thick cock. His cock throbs relentlessly from the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass mixed with your cries of his name. Nearly on the verge of cumming, he lifts you up, bending you over with your ass now up and facing him. He bends down to lick a stripe from your pussy to your ass.

Your legs tremble at the sudden action. He works his tongue all over your folds, sucking and licking your pussy lips, while slipping inside of your entrance, tongue fucking you. You reach behind to grip his hair and grind yourself against his face. Namjoon trails his fingers to find your clit, slowly rubbing it in circles. Then latches his lips around your bud, sucking and licking your as if his life depended on it. His moans sending vibrations through you entirely. He grips your ass and gives your cheeks a few harsh slaps, and that’s what sends you completely over the edge.

“Daddy.. Cumming! Fuck.” Your toes curl, legs tremble, eyes roll back, and you claw the bedsheets as your orgasm washes over your entire body. He lets go of your clit with a pop, and uses his fingers to rub your clit vigorously, riding you through your high. “Yes, baby. Keep cumming for, Daddy. Doesn’t it feel good, hm? To have your best friend make you cum so hard?” You continue calling out his name.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck.. Please!”

You push his hand away, the overstimulation kicking in. Your body continues shaking, recovering from your orgasm. He lifts you up into the doggy position, gripping a handful of your hair and rams himself inside of you. He starts with a brutal pace, fucking you senseless, slipping swear words from his lips. You gasp at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, not able to form coherent words from how hard Namjoon is fucking you. Namjoon’s thrusts gradually grow sloppier, as he’s on the brink of his own orgasm.

“Come here,” He pulls completely out of you and lays on his back, guiding you on top of him. You stuff his cock inside of you, whimpering at the feel of your clit brushing against his pelvic area - still sensitive from your orgasm. You take your time to ride him, going at your own pace - slow and steady. Namjoon uses one hand to grip your waist. “Want to feel you cum around my cock.” He slips his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in circles. You instantly jolt forward from the sensitivity, shaking your head.

“Joon! C-Can’t, it’s too much!”

“I think you can. You’ve been such a good girl, just cum one more time for Daddy, okay? I promise it will feel so good.”

You grasp his wrist, wanting to push his hand away, but you can’t. Too lost in his touch. He licks his fingers and rubs your clit again, with a slightly more pressure. His cock still sheathed fully inside of you, twitching within your walls. Your third orgasm approaches and it hits you stronger than before.

“Mmm, Namjoon!” Your nails find themselves on his chest, scratching his pecs as your entire body shakes tremendously, your pussy pulses rapidly around Namjoon’s dick. Your body collapses on top of his, out of strength and still trembling.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” Namjoon exclaims, he moans your name as his cock twitches itself inside of you, coating your walls with his warm cum. He pants, out of breath, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead.

You both lie there for what seems like awhile, regaining your breathing and taking a moment to process what just happened. Namjoons member falls soft, eventually slipping out of you. Both of your bodies pressed together and binded by perspiration. He gathers up the strength to caress your strands. His heart flutters at the warmth of your fingers drawing circles on his chest. The thud of his heart beating from within him causes you to lose yourself in your thoughts... 

What have we just done? And how will we ever go back from this?

[regolithheart]

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Six

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

---------------

CHAPTER SIX:

It was the end of the week and despite their rocky beginning, both Nesta and Cassian had made it through without causing any physical harm to one another. Much to Nesta’s surprise, they had even fallen into a daily routine with shared breakfasts, cocktails at five on the dot, and even cooking dinner together.

She had enjoyed that part of her days the most—almost looking forward to 6pm when she’d wander into the kitchen to see what they were having for dinner. It was easy to talk to Cassian when most of his attention was elsewhere and with her own small tasks to be done, she could easily ignore him if he was being too…Cassian.

Too Cassian.

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as irritating—too full of himself and stubborn. Things came easy to Cassian: his smile, his jokes, flirting. He was at ease in every situation because he took nothing seriously whereas Nesta took everything seriously. She didn’t understand how he did it, moved through life without analyzing every minuscule detail of it. 

Before the quarantine she would have labeled him as a beautiful idiot, because yes, she couldn’t deny the fact that he was good-looking. Try as she might, even alone in her bedroom with no one else to judge her. She still couldn’t say those words, that looking at Cassian sometimes made her weak in the knees.

But that had been before the quarantine. After spending almost a whole week with him, Nesta had begun to discover other parts of Cassian. That he was an attentive listener and generous with his time. That he smiled at everything, even when it wasn’t funny. That he stuck the tip of his tongue out when he was trying to be flirty, but also subconsciously, when he was concentrating on something.

And in the span of six days, she had caught herself wondering what Cassian looked like shirtless, at least twice. Once, when she saw him lounging outside on one of the deck chairs. The rising sun had painted his face with a golden glow and she had wondered what it would have looked like, spilling across his broad shoulders. And a second time, when he had off-handedly pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal that yes, he did in fact know what real pain was as marked by the whorls of black ink on his flesh.

Nesta had allowed herself a two second glance that had her stomach doing cartwheels. She had bit her lip hard enough to hurt and avoided his eyes for the rest of the dinner. 

Yes, Nesta still thought Cassian was brash and too loud. He didn’t know how to respect personal boundaries and made everything his business. And how on Earth he wasn’t able to sit still or in silence for ten minutes straight would always grate on Nesta’s nerves. But he was also all the other small things that she had began discovering as well, the things that made her reconsider how much she actually despised him. 

Which made her flustered for completely other reasons. 

Looking around for something to distract her, her eyes fell onto her phone. 

Perhaps she should finally give Feyre a call. She was beginning to feel guilty for not reaching out, especially because she hadn’t spoken to her baby sister since before their quarantining began. 

Glancing at her watch, she figured now was as good a time as any. 

Feyre picked up on the second ring.

“Nesta, hi. How are you?” Her voice was soft, happy.

“I wanted to check up on you. Is this a good time?”

“Yes, of course. I’m glad you called.”

Nesta could hear people talking in the background, but it had quieted down when Feyre spoke again. “How are things going with Cas—“ She cleared her throat. “How are you doing?”

Nesta scrunched her nose. She wasn’t sure why, but she had suddenly became annoyed. “Fine.”

Feyre was quiet, but when Nesta didn’t provide any further detail, she spoke again. “That’s good… all of my classes are online now… how’s work?”

Nesta shrugged even though she knew Feyre couldn’t see her. “Business as usual. Some people can’t do their jobs when they’re at work or at home.”

Feyre gave her a small chuckle. “Not everyone is as brilliant as you.” She paused a moment. “What about Cassian? Are you guys getting along?”

There it was again, that lick of irritation. “He’s fine. We’re fine. I can actually be civil, you know.”

“I know that! I was just asking. Making sure he wasn’t giving you a hard time or anything.” 

“No.” Nesta felt just a smidge bit guilty. “I mean, he’s not being any more of a pain in my ass than he usually is.” She didn’t know why she was compelled to add, “We’ve been… making dinner together. We’re also taking turns making breakfast.”

“You’re making breakfast?”

“I know how to scoop yogurt into a bowl!”

Feyre laughed. “Can’t argue with you there. You’re the best at it!” 

“Damn right, I am.”

“Do you fan out the bananas and dot the granola with raspberries for Cassian, too?”

“No. He has not proven himself worthy of banana-fanning yet.”

Feyre laughed again. “Good. Only Archerons get fanned bananas.” After a few seconds, she let out a soft sigh and her voice was gentle. “But you’re doing okay?” 

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek. It was always like Feyre to try and take care of them. Sweet, gentle, Elain, she understood, but sometimes Nesta hated the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, Feyre.”

“Good. And Elain? Have you talked to her? I try to call but we keep missing each other.”

“I talked to her last night. She sounds bored out of her mind, but I don’t know what she expected locking herself up in an apartment with Graysen.”

“Nesta.” There was that motherly tone again.

“Tell me you disagree.”

“She loves him.”

Nesta’s only response was a derisive snort. 

When Feyre spoke again, the austerity was gone and was replaced with a hint of mischievousness that Nesta had learned to detect years ago. “I’m glad you don’t sound like you’re bored out of your mind.”

“I’ve been busy with work.”

“In a beautiful house with the best scenery?”

“It’s… tolerable.”

Feyre cackled at that. “I’ll make sure to let Rhys know that you think his house is tolerable.”

“Please, don’t. It’ll just make his head bigger. I mean come on, Feyre. Who installs a full-sized sauna in their home?”

Her sister’s giggles were starting to become contagious and Nesta smiled. “I thought that, too, but just give in to the sauna, Nesta. You won’t regret it.”

“Fine, but two Pelotons?” 

“Okay. I’ll agree with you on that one, but it’s so much nicer when we don’t have to readjust the seat every time we want to ride.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, Elain and I had to share one bike until I was ten.” 

“Yes, and I got all your hand-me-downs.” 

Nesta smirked to herself. 

“Listen, I gotta go. We’re just about to eat dinner.”

The photo of Feyre looking so happy with her new found family flashed in Nesta’s mind, making her chest feel oddly tight. “Okay. Have a good night.”

“You, too. Love ya.”

“Same.”

“Bye bye.” Feyre hung up, leaving Nesta’s room feeling even more quiet than it had before.

Wondering what to do with the rest of her day, she gave the book on her nightstand a dejected glance. 

Normally, she would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the whole day reading, but she felt restless and decided that perhaps she should make use of the Peloton and sauna downstairs. It wasn’t as though she had any other plans and it would give her a chance to work out some of her sudden listlessness. 

Silently thanking Elain for making her pack gym clothes, she changed into a matching set of stormy blue high-waisted tights and sports bra and gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror as she pulled her hair into a high pony-tail. Out of habit, she swiped her lips with her favorite mint balm before leaving the room.

The house was quiet and for a brief second, Nesta wondered were Cassian was. Again, his bedroom door was ajar and the room empty and she hadn’t heard him in the kitchen either. 

She wondered if he was stretched out on the lawn as she’d seen him before, during her work days—no doubt spying on her or more likely, trying to get on her nerves and distract her from important emails and conference calls. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he had chosen to reposition the outdoor furniture to sit perfectly framed in the view from the office window. 

Nesta was debating whether or not she should call him out on it the next time she saw him when she entered the gym and stopped dead in her tracks. 

Standing in the middle of the room, toweling off his brow was Cassian. His t-shirt was loose and the V of the collar hung low, revealing the sculpted hardness of his chest. Muscles defined and taut in a deep bronze, glistened with sweat. The dark curling ends of his tattoo rippled as he moved—like ink gliding over water—and Nesta’s fingertips tingled.

Looking up, his finally saw her standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity and then he spoke, breaking the spell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He grinned, slinging his towel over his shoulder.

Nesta crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian chuckled, making it sound like she’d just told a joke instead of sending a death glare his way. 

“I’d ask if you were lost, but judging from your outfit, it doesn’t look like you’re on your way to the ball.”

Nesta watched as Cassian’s eyes dragged from her sneakers up her legs, then torso, and then… 

She turned, walking over to the stationary bikes, hoping he hadn’t caught the flush that was beginning to bloom across her chest. 

Looking at the Peloton, Nesta began to question her decision. Thinking she should switch over to the treadmill, she felt Cassian’s breath against the shell of her ear. 

“Here, let me help.”

How he had managed to sneak up behind her without her noticing was a surprise, but not as big of one as how close he had gotten. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and if she took a half-step back, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from melting into him. 

Instead, she straightened her back and at the sudden lost of heat, knew that Cassian had widened the distance between them. Chancing a glance behind her, she saw him leaning against the treadmill. His hand gently—casually—rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need special shoes for that,” he said, jutting his chin towards the pedals. “Feyre’s are in the cabinet. You wear the same size, right?”

Nesta took her time retrieving the shoes and putting them on, anything to give her a moment to even out her breathing and collect herself. It was only the surprise of running into him that had thrown her off. 

Focus, Nesta. You’ve seen a muscled man before. 

When she got back to the bikes, Cassian was already tinkering with the levers and bolts. 

“You’re taller than Feyre. We’ll have to adjust the seat.” He held out his hand. 

Nesta swallowed, but did not let her hand slip into his. Instead, she nudged him away with her elbow to give herself some space.

Cassian chuckled. He remained standing where Nesta had pushed him, but he was still close enough for her to feel the rumble of his laughter on her skin—close enough for her to smell the salt and sweat on him.

She scowled. 

Cassian moved behind her to tug at the seat, adjusting it to align with her hip before leaning over to tighten the screw, fixing it into place. She watched as his arms flexed, the tight chords of his muscles shifting easily beneath that deep copper skin. 

She realized she had never stood this close to him before, so close that she could see a bead of sweat glide down the chiseled stone column of his neck and she hated the tightness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she also couldn’t look away. 

When Cassian straightened, Nesta bristled. 

“I need you to hold your arm out so I can adjust the seat distance. Elbow at the seat front.” 

This time, Nesta did finally allow Cassian to guide her and the gentle brush of his hand at her elbow, her arm, felt oddly intimate. His palm was calloused and the scrape of it against her skin made her spine tingle. 

His hands were so big.

Nesta was reminded of where she was when Cassian told her she could get onto the bike. Eager for the distraction, she locked her shoe into the pedal and swung her leg around to the other side. Again, she felt the heat of Cassian’s body close to her skin, this time from the hand hovering just above the small of her back.

“I can handle it from here,” she said, dismissing him.

Clearing her throat, she began scrolling through the classes on the screen, not chancing a look at him.

She had already felt too vulnerable in the five minutes standing next to him and now that she was sitting on a bike, her feet locked into place, she couldn’t allow herself the possibility of toppling over, or worse, not being able to escape if he fixed her with one of his looks. 

Cassian didn’t say anything until he got to the door. Not turning back, he said, “Have fun,” before leaving.

It wasn’t until Nesta heard the door click shut that she let her shoulders sag. Expelling a deep breath, she shook out the tension in her arms, her neck. 

Scrolling through the classes, she decided a ninety minute power ride was exactly what she needed to shake the unfamiliar jitteriness that had suddenly seized her entire body. 

---------------

Cassian let his forehead rest against the wall as he released a shuttering breath. He had made it to the end of the hallway before having to stop to collect himself. Slinging his towel across the back of his neck, he grabbed both ends and tugged firmly. 

God.

He had barely made it out of there. Had surprised himself when he was able to say something that wasn’t a declaration of how much he wanted to kiss her, touch her. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, her showing up at the gym like that and in those clothes…

He had always thought she was gorgeous. She had taken his breath away the first time he had laid eyes on her and in their subsequent meetings, she’d only proven herself more and more beautiful. But today… with that thin material matching the exact color of her eyes and clinging to each and every one of her curves, he couldn’t help himself. He just had to be near her.

And so he moved—stalked in three long strides—close enough to touch her, but not daring to. 

He had half-expected her to turn around and snap at him. To claw at him with her nails and her words. And when she didn’t, and he saw the blush against the shell of her ear, exactly where his breath had been, he thought that maybe…

But her back had stiffened and so he backed away, tried to plaster on that cool exterior he could easily hide behind, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she had been. Of course, he was only human and when she walked off to find Feyre’s shoes, Cassian’s eyes had followed her. Followed those long legs, the curve of her backside, and the swell of her hips as they swayed. 

He had had to muster every bit of strength in his body to remain calm. And for a moment, he had considered leaving the room to escape the torture. 

But as soon as she’d come back within arm’s reach of him, he couldn’t walk away. And she had let him touch her arm. 

It had been the most chaste of touches. A past Cassian would have laughed at himself for being so modest, but it had set his hand on fire. Her skin was so soft, and for a heartbeat, he had let himself wonder if she’d let him touch her anywhere else. Her shoulder? Her neck? Those pouty lips? 

If she’d let him, he’d trace his fingertips across that delicate skin to mark her—let her know where his mouth would follow. 

Cassian groaned.

He felt foolish, like a giddy teenager touching a girl for the first time, instead of the grown man he was. One who had taken many lovers, all of whom had let him do much more than touch their elbow. 

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

They had let him—wanted him to, begged him, in fact. But Nesta… all she did was push him away and brush him off. She had glared at him and bristled at his closeness. And when he was done being useful, she had dismissed him wholly. 

Cassian had thought that she was finally beginning to thaw against him. Their interactions had become cordial, almost friendly at times. But again, she had managed to prove him wrong. 

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging hard. Then pushed himself off the wall, and headed upstairs, looking to take a very, very cold shower. 

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 56

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @thunderintheshadows​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Tyler arrives in Christchurch at four in the afternoon; wasting no time in collecting his lone bag from luggage claim and then picking up the rental car Nik had arranged under an alias.  After the fuck up leaving Colorado the first time, Nik had been on the ball about making sure security and privacy were locked up tight; no trace back to his real name or hometown, an extra secure encryption every he sent a text message or email, arranging to pay everything by cash instead of using a credit or debit card that could be linked back to his real identity. While it's near certain that word had gotten back to the Buckman family about who he is and that he's coming for the kids, it's essential that his exact day and time of arrival isn't discovered. It would keep them on  their toes, perhaps even make them anxious enough to start making mistakes, and make it easier to get in and around the building for initial recon without being spotted. So he wears a a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap low on his brow; the hood of his sweater pulled up to cover his head.  It's a cool day in New Zealand, so he won't stand out in his attire or draw any suspicion towards himself. It's the last hing he wants or needs, preferring to just show up out of nowhere and catch the Buckmans -and whoever is doing their dirty work- by surprise.

He heads to the hotel first; a modest yet spacious two room suite on the ninth floor of a fifteen story building on the busy downtown core. Nik had already arranged for Yaz to have access; everything that he'd left behind in Ireland -clothes, personal belongings, the weapons- having been brought along and dropped off. The weapons behind locked in one of the closets; a heavy metal chain wrapped around the handles and then secured with a combination lock. The code sent to his SAT.

He calls home. It's nine in the morning back in Colorado and he wakes her from a dead sleep, and he spends the first minutes apologizing profusely and the following ten making sure that she's feeling okay; checking that she's been taking her meds, eating, drinking. Once more clarifying that she knows exactly how to handle things if the worst case scenario becomes a reality. If he doesn't make it home and she's left to not only face the aftermath, but relegated to being the sole caregiver of four -soon to be five- children. And he tells her he loves her; making sure that she knows -beyond all shadow of a doubt- just how much, and how'd she'd changed his life...and him...for the better. Things he probably should have told her a long time ago. Avoiding all the hurt and the feelings of doubt and abandonment that she'd gone through during his frequent absences.

Next he leaves the hotel and heads out into the street; grabbing coffee and something to eat before texting Yaz for his exact whereabouts. Anxious to see the suspected extraction location. Check out the locals. How busy the street and the neighbourhood itself is. How likely was it  that there would be civilian casualties when the Buckmans fought back. Where could an offensive be launched from? What did the possible entrance and exit points look like and how many options for both were there? Where could the hostiles hide out or mount their attack from? Relaying on other peoples' observations and plans is useless and a waste of his time. He has to see things for himself; run through every possible scenario, make his own plans. In the end if was his show to run; he was the one with the experience, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, who got down into the trenches where things were the most dangerous and unpredictable.  

Yaz has set up shop in an abandoned office building across the street from the old store owned by Heather McMann's grandmother; the twelfth floor giving an unobstructed view of not only the front and back of the little shop, but of the entire row of brownstones and the alley ways on either end of the block, and behind.   And he knocks twice on the door; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back and forth on his heels ever so slightly as he waits for someone to answer. Listening to the muffled conversations and the push of a chair across hardwood and the shuffling of footsteps as they approach the door. Mark answers; giving him little more than a smirk and then stepping back and holding the door open for him, gesturing for him to come in.

“Holy fuck, look at this!” Yaz calls out. “The lost sheep has returned to the flock! The fucking prodigal son has returned!”

“I've only been gone for two days and you missed me that much? What are you going to do when I'm gone for good? When I stop picking up the phone when your sister calls?”

“I'm going to stalk the every loving shit out of you until you come back,” Yaz says, and then embraces him warmly.

“I'm not coming back. I told you that. This is it Last one.”

“I give it a year. Before you're bored as hell and itching to get back out there.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you.  I'm done after this. Time to be a family man. Time to be the husband my wife deserves.”

“Good like with that,” Mark mutters as he steps past him.  “She doesn't know a good thing when she has one.”

Tyler smirks. “I know you're not talking about yourself, because everyone in this room knows what you're like. Or do we need to talk about it again? About how you like to beat on women?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz clamps a hand down onto his shoulder.  “...don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get under your skin. How about you go over there and sit down, Mark.  Quit trying to cause shit with my boy. Because you push your luck too far, he's going to rip you limb from limb. And not one of us in here are going to stop it. Are we boys?”

Both of the young Marines shake their heads.

“Good to have you back,” Nathan says, and pulls him into one of the awkward, one armed hugs that some guys seem to be into these days. “I know you wouldn't bail. Zak and I had faith. Unlike some people,” he jerks a thumb in Mark's direction.

“Thought maybe you didn't have it in you anymore,” Mark says, as he spreads his legs out in front of him and clasps his hands behind his neck. “That you lost your nerve.”

“Man's got more nerve in his baby finger than you have your entire body,” Yaz remarks. “And he wasn't bailing on us. He had some shit to take care of back home.”

“What kind of shit?” Mark inquires.

“Shit that isn't any of your business,” Tyler replies, and follows Yaz as he motions him over to the window.

“I figured if you wanted them to know, you'd tell them,” Yaz says, voice low.  “How's things? She's okay?”

“Fainted, hit her head and gave herself a handful of stitches and a concussion. Doctor says her blood pressure was high and she was severely dehydrated. To the point of kidney issues.”

“But she's going to be okay, right? Like it's nothing that could...you know...”

“Nothing that bad.  They've got her on meds. That should keep things normal from here on out.”

“And the baby? Everything's okay?”

“So far. Baby looks healthy, everything is where it's supposed to be, nothing's missing. The date's a little fuckey, but....”

“Fuckey how? You weren't home that day or something?”

“Not like that. Just farther ahead than we thought. Way farther ahead. Almost four months.”

“I mean, I'm no expert, but shouldn't you have known sooner? Like aren't these things obvious before now?”

“Normally. But when has anything ever been normal with us?”

“Well congrats,” Yaz pats him on the back. “Now get neutered okay? Five of you is enough. Did you look over what I sent you?”

Tyler nods.

“What do you think?”

“I think I need to get down there and see things for myself. Old blueprints and land claims and photos mean nothing. I need to get actual eyes on the place. Anyone been coming and going out of there?”

“Lot of weird shit been happening. Mostly people going in and out of the back door.”

“Get a good look at them? Anything that can be used for facial recognition?”

“Always keep their heads down. And there's no security cameras anywhere in that alley. We've checked. Twice.”

“Do people live in the apartments above? They occupied?”

“There's twenty residential apartments and five businesses. We haven't checked with the residents.”

“Someone might have their own security camera,” Tyler suggests. “Fire escapes right? They might be wanting to keep an eye on anyone coming up and down them for safety reasons. What's the alley like back there? How wide?”

“About ten feet. If that. Get a car in there and get blocked in...”

“You're totally fucked,” Tyler concludes.

Yaz nods. 'We've got Tanis down there right now. Doing some recon. We thought we had a sighting of Heather McMann yesterday but it never panned out. She went in the back door, never came back out.”

He frowns. “You've been watching all this time? Who's been watching the cameras when you're not here?”

“That would be me,” Mark pipes up.

“And you never saw anyone come back out?” Tyler inquires. “Whoever this woman was. She just went in and never came back out?”

“Not on my watch.”

“Not on mine either,” Yaz says. “And you know I'm anal about watching my cameras.”

“And she went in yesterday and you never saw her again?” Tyler stares pointedly at Mark. “You're one hundred percent sure that you never saw her.”

“I have eyes.  I can fucking see,” Mark snarls.

“I want to see the footage. Bring it up on the computer, Yaz. You keep that shit, right?”

His friend gives him a look that clearly means that was a ridiculous question to ask. That of course he keeps the footage and how dare you suggest otherwise.

“I just fucking told you!” Mark snaps.

“I know what you told me. And I'm telling you that I want to see the footage.”

Mark jumps up with enough force to send the chair sliding backwards and then toppling to the ground. Crossing the room in four strides, until he's toe to toe with Tyler, who only smirks in response.  “You telling me I don't know how to do my job? I'm FBI you fucking half wit. We do this shit for a living.”

“I'm just saying you might have fucked up. How does she go on and not come back out? Explain that to me.”

“Maybe he fucked up,” Mark nods at Yaz. “Maybe he missed her.”

“I don't fuck up,” Yaz informs him. “Never do I fuck up.”

“I want to see the goddamn footage,” Tyler demands. “What's the problem?”

“You think you can just walk back in here like you never left?” Mark rages. “Like you run the whole show?”

“Well technically it is his job,” Zak attempts to reason. “So he is kinda running things.”

“You take off for a couple of days and think you can just walk back in and...”

“I want to see the fucking footage,” Tyler angrily interjects. “I'm not asking. I'm telling. What's the goddamn issue? Just get on the computer and show me what I want to see.”

“You're an arrogant fuck, Rake. You think you can just take off for a couple of days so you can go home and get your dick wet and...”

Frowning, Tyler steps even closer to Mark.  His tone calm and even, despite the rage that begins to simmer inside of him.  “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz lays a hand on his shoulder. “...no reason for this to turn into a thing...”

“It's been a  'thing' right from the beginning,” Mark says. “He's had a hard on for hating me right from the get go. Before he even met me.”

“I didn't need to meet you to know you're a fucking asshole, mate.  I'd heard all about you.  I'd been hoping I wouldn't meet you because I knew I'd probably kill you if I did.”

'Well I'm right here. What's stopping you? If you're as big and tough as you let on you are...”

Tyler smirks. “You're not even worth it.”

“You go home, you get laid, you come back and suddenly you're the boss? Fuck you, Rake. We've been doing all the work while you were off getting your dick sucked...”

“You need to watch your fucking mouth. Don't bring my wife into this.”

“Hey, I get it. I understand. I mean, she gives really good head, am I right?”

His forearm is across McMann's throat before anyone in the room can even react, and he forcefully pushes the other man across the room, slamming him against the back of the door. And as there's chaos and clamour as the Marines and Yaz rush over in an attempt to diffuse the situation, Tyler leans into his full body weight into Mark, further cutting off his airway.

“Don't ever talk about my wife like that.  You don't bring her into your issues with me. Don't say her name. Don't even think about her. Because I will fucking kill you and I won't feel the least bit sorry about it.”

“You can't stand it can you,” Mark chokes out.  “That I was with her before you.  Fucking her before you were. You can't stand thinking about it, can you.”

“I don't give a shit about any of that. She had a life before me. You know what I give a shit about? All the things that you did to her. How you fucked her head up. You're a real man, Mark. Putting your hands on a woman that's half your size. Did it make you feel big and tough? When you were beating the shit out of her? I bet it made you feel like a real big man, didn't it.”

“You have no clue what went on.  How she pushes and pushes and...”

“Oh I know. I know what she can be like, trust me. But you know what? I don't put my fucking hands on her. Because I'd kill myself if I ever even thought about it. I don't give a shit what she does or what she says or how big of a pain the ass she can be, you don't do shit like that.  You're a coward. You beat on women because you can't take on someone your own size. Well I'm right here. You want to take a shot, just do it.”

“Yeah...that's not a good idea...” Yaz pipes up. “...not a good idea at all.  So can you two comparing your dicks long enough for us to get some work done? Because I'd really like to get this job over and done with. And you two assholes are not helping.”

“Do it...” Tyler takes a step back, removing his arm from Mark's throat.  “...I'm right here, fuck head. What? Suddenly you're not so tough? It's a whole different ball game when you've got someone your own size willing to take you on, isn't it.”

“Not exactly a fair fight,” Yaz says. “You've got like six inches on him and probably fifty pounds, so...”

“Not to mention you would kill him,” Nathan adds. “You know, considering the shit you've done to people with your bare hands.”

“Typical for guys like you, Rake, “ Mark scoffs. “All show and no go. All those muscles don't mean shit when you got nothing to back them up.”

“I've got plenty to back them up, mate. All you've got is that mouth of yours. Constantly fucking running it. And I won't hesitate being the guy that knocks all your teeth out. So keep fucking testing me. See how far you can push me. Go ahead.”

“No, don't,” Yaz manages to get between them.  “Don't push him. This is not what we're here for. We're here for those two kids. This job has gone on long enough and I'm tired and I'm pissed and I'm irritated as fuck. So stop the pissing contest. Both of you. I get it, Mark's a huge dick and he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him for what he did to Esme. But can you at least rein all this in until after the job is done? Let's get those kids the fuck out of there and then you can drag him out into the street and finally beat the shit out of him. But for now...” he lays his hands on Tyler's shoulders and pushes him backwards. “...you need to calm the fuck down and focus. I need you to focus. You're not good to me or those kids if your heads not on straight. Right?” he lightly slaps his friend on the cheek. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Get your shit together. I need your head in the game. And you...” he turns to glare at Mark.  “...get off his jock and quit trying to cause shit with him. Because he will do some serious damage and not one of us in here has the balls to try and stop him when he gets doing. Talk a walk or something. Go and get us coffee. Food. Make yourself useful. Maybe one of you boys can go with him. Calm him the hell down. We do not need this shit!”

“I'll do it,” Zak offers, albeit reluctantly. “You wanna come with, Nate? Stretch your legs? I promise I won't push him into traffic. Unless...” he playfully bumps Tyler's shoulder with his own. “...you want me to. Blink one for yes, twice for no.”

Tyler chuckles. “It's all good, mate. You keep your hands clean. He'll get what's coming to him.”

“That a threat?” Mark asks from the doorway.

“Naw...” Tyler shakes his head. “...that's a promise.”

****

“You good?”   Yaz asks, after the commotion has finally settled down and he sits at his laptop, bringing up the file containing the camera footage from the day before.

“I'm good,”  Tyler replies, and drags over a chair, turning it backwards before sitting down on it. “Fucking guy gets under my skin. I shouldn't let him, but he just doesn't stop.”

“He's like one of those sea dwelling amoebas that you can only see under a microscope yet they burrow into you and start causing all kinds of shit from the inside out.”

Tyler arches both brows.

“Remind me about it later. I'll show you. There's some cool shit about them on Youtube. Look, I know he's a pain in the ass. I've wanted to kill himself about ten times since yesterday. But he's doing this on purpose. To get a rise out of you. To get in your head. Stopping letting assholes like that take up space in your head without paying rent.”

“You been talking to my wife? Because you sound just like her.”

“Well, brilliant minds think alike. Although I question her intelligence and her sanity considering she willingly took up with you. I can't begin to imagine what she saw in you. Not even in the slightest.”

“Start using more than five pound weights in the gym and you can look like this too. Might take you forty years, but...”

“I will have you know, my lady is happy and satisfied.”

“Lady, huh? The one from the coffee shop? Shelly? Sherry? Whatever the hell her name is? The one I saw half naked.”

“Siobhan. And I'm still pissed at you about that. Cockblocking wasn't on your resume when you applied for the job. You at least like what you saw?”

Tyler chuckles. “You want me to rate your 'lady' or whatever the fuck she is?”

“I'll go first if you want. I'll rate Esme and then...”

“Yeah, no. Don't do that. Because I will have to kill you and it would break my heart a bit because I kind of like you. So...”

“I'd put her at a ten, by the way. If that makes a difference.”

“When have you seen enough to rate my wife? Is there something you're not telling me about?”

“I've seen her in a bathing suit. Ten. Definitely a ten. You lucky fucker.”

“Well, it's a ten plus, actually. But stop talking about my wife like that, for fuck sake.”

“You should be flattered. That guys find her attractive. They like what they see but she sticks with you.”

“I am flattered. But it also pisses me off. So...”

“Your turn. What did you think? At least a ten, right? Come on. I know you're married but I also know you look. We all look. Human nature. You like what you see?”

He shrugs. “I'll give her an eight. Nine at the most.”

“Fuck you, Tyler. I gave Esme a ten.”

“Because she is a ten. What I saw was an eight at the lowest and nine at the highest. I'm not into red heads. Plus she's not you...top heavy...”

'I forgot. You're a boob man. Is it true that when women have kids they get bigger? The boobs?”

“We are not talking about my wife's tits. So can we get on with this?”

“Just tell me if it's true. Do they?”

“It's not the kids that make them bigger, dumb ass. It's when they're pregnant with the kids. Pick up a fucking book or look it up on the internet. Why are you asking me?”

“Because you're kind of an expert. You've been through it three times. Now four if we count the one in the oven. So it's true then? You've experienced this yourself?”

“If I give you an answer will you shut the fuck up and get to work?”

“Swear on my mother's grave.”

“Your mother is still alive,” Tyler reminds him.

“My grandmother's than. True or not? Just a one word answer.  Seeing as your so sensitive about this.”

“True. Now can we do this? While I'm still young enough to not be collecting an old age check? Fuck sake. Let's go.”

“So are you really doing it?” Yaz asks, as he puts in the approximate time of the day they'd seen the woman they'd thought was Heather McMann.  “Leaving? Calling it a day?”

“When this is over, yeah. I've got five million reasons not to stick around. And five that are even more important. I've got a family, Yaz. And they deserve to have me around. Not just some of the time. All the time.”

“You're going to drive Esme crazy,” Yaz chuckles. “Being around all that much.”

“I already drive her crazy. What's your point?”

“You're not worried you're going to get bored? Having nothing to do?”

“I'll find things to do. I've got four kids to help take care of. In a few months until be five. That'll keep me busy enough. I don't need to be out killing people.”

“Daddy Tyler,”  Yaz grins.  “Can't wait to see that. I mean, I've seen it before, obviously. But I can't wait to see it at full force. You going to start coaching little league and soccer and driving a mini van?”

“Fuck you, Yaz.”

“You're going to start wearing cardigan sweats and growing your hair out and shaving off your beard,” he laughs. “You're going to turn into a regular Mister Rogers. You and your Starbucks and your deck shoes and your hipster haircut.”

“I honestly will punch you in the throat.”

“I kid, I kid. I can never see you doing anything of those things. And I'd probably put a hit out on you if you ever did do any of those things. You guys gonna stay in Colorado?”

“No. We're leaving. As soon as we can.”

“Back to Australia?”

Tyler nods.

“Can't say that surprises me. You guys were a lot happier when you were there. Didn't fight as much. Things just seemed to change when you guys went to Colorado. And not for the better either.  That's where all the shit started to happen.”

Tyler can't deny that.

“It's like there's something bad in the air. Some bad fucking karma or juju or something. You guys will be happier back in Australia. I'm going to miss you guys. Especially those kids.”

“You can come and visit. I'm leaving the job. Not the people connected to it.”

“See, you will miss me.”

“Of course I will. Everyone needs a dorky friend, right?”

“You know, you start out so well and you go so wrong,” Yaz chuckles, and then stops the footage on the screen. “So, this is the camera in the back alley that I set up. And this is her. The one we thought was Heather McMann.”

Tyler leans forward in his chair, squinting his eyes. “Can you make it bigger?”

“Can I make it bigger,” Yaz scoffs, as he zooms in on the still. “Of course I can.”

Frowning, Tyler pulls his SAT phone out of the side pocket on his cargo shorts and brings up the photo gallery; selecting a picture he'd saved of the woman in question and then holding it up to the screen.

“Looks like her,” Yaz says. “Sort of? Right?”

“That's her. That is definitely her.”

“How can you tell?”

“Look at the marks on her face. The photo I have is when she was being 'held',” he makes air quotes around the last word. “So the bruises were still fresh. Now they're healing and not as noticeable, but they're still there. In the exact same places. Zoom in on her left hand.”

Yaz does what he's told.

“Same tattoo in the exact same place. And her rings are the same. Same engagement ring, same wedding band. There's no way that's not her. And she never came back out? What time is it...” he checks his watch. “...she's been in there for over eighteen hours? No fucking way.”

“If she came out, she didn't come out the back door.”

“You have cameras on the front?”

“You're asking a lot of stupid questions today,”  Yaz sighs, and brings up the footage from the other camera, slowly scrolling through it, frame by frame.  

“Has there been any sign of the kids?” Tyler asks.

“None. Whatsoever. But she did take food and shit in with her. So...”

“Still doesn't mean those kids are in there. She could have been bringing that to people she's working with.”

“You think the shop could be a front for something?”

Tyler shrugs. “This is so fucked up, anything is possible. Stop it. Go back about fifteen seconds.”

Yaz complies, then leans closer to the screen. “Sonofabitch...”

“She came out the front door. She changed her clothes and put a hat on and she walked right out. Right fucking in front of us,” Tyler sighs heavily, then runs his hands over his face. “Fuck!”

“She knows someone is watching her,” Yaz concludes. “It's why she changed her clothes and put a hat on.”

“Fuck!” Tyler rages, as he stands up and kicks the chair across the room. “Fuck!!”

Yaz remains silent.

“How the fuck did you guys miss that? She walked right out the goddamn front door! How the fuck does that happen? She's right across the street! Why did no one go over there and see if it was her when you saw her on camera? You thought it was her but didn't go and check it out? What the fuck, Yaz?!”

“I get it. You're upset. And you've got a right to be. But....”

“I'm not upset. I am beyond upset. Way beyond it  How did you guys fuck up this bad? Four people in this goddamn room, Tanis on the street, and not one person thought to go and see if it was Heather McMann? Not one of you thought that was a good idea?”

“In all fairness, you're the expert and you weren't here so...”

“They're Marines! They know how to take someone down if they have to. Jesus fucking Christ...” he punches a gaping hole in one of he walls. “...how the fuck does this happen?! She was right there. Right across the street. And not one of you went to get her. Who was watching the cameras? Who fucked up? Who didn't see her come back out?”

“I'll give you three guess. But you're only going to need one.”

“Of course it was Mark. Of course it was. That fucking prick!”  Tyler lays his palms against the wall and drops his chin to his chest, attempting to calm himself. “This is a big fuck up. A huge fuck up. An epic fuck up.”

Yaz nods in agreement.

“She was right there and we could have had her. She could have lead us right to those kids.  And not one of you went to see if it was her for sure.”

“We fucked up,” Yaz admits. “Big time.”

“You think?!”

Neither of them speak for several minutes; Yaz waiting for Tyler to fully calm down. He knows it would be a huge mistake; to even utter a single word when his friend is so worked up. Eventually Tyler moves; grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler one of the others had brought with them, twisting off the cap and downing half.

“She come back?” he asks. “Any sign of her returning?”

“None. And I scoured the tapes. Twice. She hasn't come back. Think she will?”

Tyler shrugs. “She knows she's being watched. She knows you guys are here.”

“Think she knows you're here?”

“Probably not. I'm pretty much non existent right now.  There's no sign of me coming into New Zealand. No flight manifesto, no real sign of me on any of the cameras, I haven't used a bank card or a credit card, Nik ordered the car under a different name. So we at least didn't fuck that up.”

“We still have the element of surprise,” Yaz concludes. “At least where you're concerned.”

Tyler nods.

“So we just wait? To see if she comes back? What do you think?”

“I need to get down there. Get my own eyes on things.”

“Could make you. If anyone sees you. If she sees you.”

“Guess it's too late now to worry about it, yeah? If they're going to find out, they're going to find out. But I need to get down there. See things for myself. I don't think it's safe yet to actually go into the building. No way of knowing if there's anyone in there. And if there is, how many there are. I'm not walking into a massacre. Fuck that.”

“You're armed, aren't you.”

“I've got a fucking Glock, Yaz. What good will that do against bigger weapons? It won't do shit. I'd get two, three shots and that's it. We need to know exactly what's going on down there. Any way of getting eyes inside?”

“I could get a hold of my guy. I'm sure he's got the tech. I'll give him a call,” he pulls out his own SAT phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go down there and check shit out,” he finishes off the water, tossing the empty bottle into the garbage before heading for the door. “Keep an eye on things. Message me if you see anyone that looks even remotely like her. Can you do that?”

Yaz nods. “Be careful, okay? Don't get yourself killed the first day.”

“Just watch my back,” Tyler responds, and then steps out the door.

[ts-virgil-angst]

I think you need stitches & Patton is hurt?

Genre: *gently chanting* angst angST ANGST ANGST ANGST

Word Count: 2,569 

Prompt: “ I think you need stitches.”

—–

Virgil was tired of waiting. A week had already passed since Patton went out and there still wasn’t any sign of him. Jules refused to look and Neil wouldn’t undermine anything he said. Not even Cameron, who barely listened to anything anyone said, would go.

“Listen, V.” He wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, leaning in and fanning his perpetual booze-soaked breath all over him. “This ain’t got shit to do with me. Patton is a good kid, but I’m not risking my neck for him.”

Virgil ducked under Cameron’s arm and crossed his arms. “And how many times has he risked his for yours?” Virgil shot back.

“Eh, well,” Cameron shrugged. “That was his choice.”

“If Patton had a choice, he wouldn’t even be here picking up the slack dumbass adults like you who can’t even manage.”

Logan snickered at Cameron’s expression as they turned away. “What are you gonna— Hey!” Cameron grabbed a fistful of Logan’s hair and pulled him back. Virgil crossed his arms and watched revulsion, disgust, and anger chase each other across Logan’s features. Getting a rise out of Logan was difficult since he had such a laid-back-sarcastic-devil-may-care attitude, but he abhorred being touch. Be it his actual skin or something on his person, it moved him to violence.

Logan threw his head back, head-butting Cameron’s chin and forcing him to release his hold on Logan. He threw his elbow into Cameron’s solar plexus before kicking him.

“Touch me again and next time it’s your throat.” He took a deep breath, slowly relaxing his tense stance. “Look, whatever beef you have with V has nothing to do with me. It obviously has something more to do with what just happened, but leave me out of it and take it up with the offender.”

Logan was right that Virgil and Cameron had beef before this. Cam hated the way Virgil just sort of blended into to his new status and surroundings without blinking an eye when he, a grown man, couldn’t do it without too many beers and many more cigars.

“You’ve certainly gotten more violent,” Virgil said as they walked away, this time unbothered.

“I’ve always been violent—just in spades. Being here makes me feel like I have to be or else something might happen to me. Anyway, back to my question before Cam the Idiot cut me off: what are you gonna do about Patton?”

Virgil’s mood soured even more. “I’ll go look for him tonight. Nothing to get me in trouble, just a quick look around by Hit the Mark.”

He wrung his fingers together, shoulders hunching in as he asked, “Can I go with you?”

Virgil gave him a sideways glance. Logan looked like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Why are you asking when you never have before?”

“Well, this seems kind of personal whereas everything else was just work. It’s polite to ask.”

“Shoot first ask later.” They left the common area behind, going into one of the many halls housing rooms for the less fortunate—the only real service the casino offered. “It’s fine if you come with me. Nothing should happen anyway.” Yet, even as Virgil said that he couldn’t help but feel something had happened. That maybe, just maybe, Patton wouldn’t be coming back.

Virgil shook his head, shooing the thought away. Patton was good at what he did. Get in, take the tiara, get out—there’s no way Patton wouldn’t be able to do that. “Come by my room at midnight. Right now, I want to be alone.”

“Right. I have been attached to you since I got here.” Logan nodded as he went down the hallway, disappearing into the last door.

Virgil almost regretted sending Logan away as he fell onto his bed. He was used to having Patton’s constant company with brief breaks between. Having Logan around was nice, but his presence was much calmer than Patton. Virgil would have much rather been around him in spades then twenty-four-seven. Shame there was no one else willing to train Logan so Virgil could take a break from him.

“I miss you, Patton,” Virgil mumbled as he drifted off into sleep. It didn’t feel like long before he heard soft footsteps approaching his door.

Virgil opened his eyes as Logan knocked on his door. “Are you awake?”

“Just barely,” Virgil mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Just wait a moment.” Virgil rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretching and groping for his knives. Out of habit and comfort, they were the first things he went for when waking up. He could never know when he would need them. Hiding them expertly on his person, Virgil opened the door and pulled Logan in. “We’re not actually supposed to go out at night without permission—we could slip out and never come back. But we just have to be back before the casino closes and we’ll be fine. Probably.”

“So, we have three hours. Um, how are we getting out?”

Virgil pointed. “The window, of course.”

Logan edged over and peeked down to the ground. “How are we getting down from here?”

“Luck and skill.” Virgil opened the window and leaned out, pressing against the frame so Logan could see. “Look, there’s a ladder right there, from that fire escape. You’ll have to jump. Below that is a dumpster—a four-foot drop you should be able to make. If not, that’s on you.”

“Love your faith.” Logan pulled back and gestured forward. “Lead the way.”

“Make sure you close the window when you get out.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just leave it open then. Follow me and try not to make too much noise.”

“Who’s going to hear us over the casino?” Logan asked as Virgil hopped onto the windowsill and dived out the window. The wind raced around him as he wrapped his hands around the ladder. After many trials and errors, he knew how much force to put into his jump so as not to face plant into the ladder.

Virgil dropped down the ladder then onto the dumpster. Logan was still leaning out the window, watching. “Get a move on.”

“What if I break my nose?”

“Like I said, that’s on you.”

He warily looked over the distance between the window and ladder, backed up, then jumped. He let out a small squeal as he almost fell short and banged against the ladder. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this,” he gasped. “Can I just— Can I just stay here?”

“Would you like to dangle for three hours? Just let go of the ladder.”

“Pretty sure I bruised my knees and one of them is bleeding. In short, my legs really frigging hurt.”

“My soul hurts. Let go or I’ll leave you.” Logan looked ready to close his eyes but kept them open as he dropped onto the dumpster. His legs buckled beneath the sudden weight and caved. Tripping, he toppled from the lid and into Virgil’s arms.

“Jeez.” He puffed his hair from his face. “You’re deceptively strong for someone so scrawny.”

“You’re scrawny. And you weigh as much as a stop sign.” Virgil let him down and started forward, keeping an eye out for the callers.

“I have a high metabolism.” He said.

Just like Patton, Virgil thought. “Keep up with me and look inconspicuous.” Making it past the callers was the hard part, which is to say, making it to Hit the Mark was easy. They’d never seen Logan before (he liked to prowl the halls of the casino, making sarcastic quips about the people he saw and hated the cold) and if Virgil kept his head down he wouldn’t be recognized. From there they hustled through the crowds of people flocking to buildings to spend money and try their luck.

“How far away is this other casino?” Logan asked once the crowd had thinned. In between casino was always less crowded and loud.

“Give us ten minutes and—” Virgil stopped short then backtracked. The alley was nondescript and easy enough to look past and the smell from the trash cans made it easier to avoid. But Virgil didn’t care about the alley. His eyes were on the person lying face down, blood pooling around their still body.

“Uh, V? What are you—?”

“Stay here and don’t move.” Virgil started forward, panic swelling in his chest, trying not to let it overwhelm him. “Do you remember the way to the casino?”

“More or less. Why— What is happening?” Virgil could hear the worry building in his voice and could see the beginnings of stiffness in his posture as he tried to see what Virgil saw, like a spring coil being wound. But Virgil ignored him, creeping forward, the ball of panic getting bigger and bigger with each step.

The panic swelled and burst as Virgil looked at Patton’s bruised profile. His cheek had been cut and his breathing was choked and labored as Virgil rolled him onto his back.

Despite the scene, Virgil found his wits, checking for a pulse and calling out: “Logan! Go back to the casino and ask for someone who can tend to gun wounds.” There were too many times when Virgil had come across someone dead or dying to let this get the better of him. Even when—even when that someone was the one person he cared about most.

Logan stood, frozen against the background of the busy street, clutching his shirt for dear life. “Logan. He will die if you don’t move. Go.” He jerked into action, sprinting down the street.

Virgil moved Patton’s head into his lap, softly calling his name. “Wake up, Patton. Please wake up.”

Patton stirred and coughed, eyes fluttering and breath stuttering. Virgil made a sound—half sigh, half sob. “Thank God you’re awake.”

“V? Why are you here?” Patton tried to move then winced, hand hovering close to his side.

“That doesn’t matter, just stay awake for me, Patton. Stay awake.”

“But I’m so tired. I can’t…” He trailed off, his words slurring.

Panic started to rise again and Virgil shook him, trying to keep his eyes open. “Focus on me, Patton. I think you need stitches and you’ll be okay.” Virgil grasped at anything in his muddled mind that would grab Patton’s attention. What would keep his focused? “You had something to tell me. What was it? Keep your eyes on me.”

“What I wanted to say… It was important.” His breathing evened out as his eyes focused on something beyond Virgil. Virgil’s heart starting pounding as a minute ticked by without any movement, then Patton gasped as he said, “I love you.”

Virgil’s heart stuttered. “What?”

“You were always so hot and cold with your temper.” Patton closed his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips. “I could never understand what you were feeling so I thought if I could do something like this, maybe I could say this too.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Virgil murmured. “I love you, Patton. I’ve always loved you.” Patton’s head cradled in Virgil’s lap, he lowered his forehead to Patton’s, a roaring ache in his chest. What Virgil felt for Patton was something fiercer that ordinary love. It was built on the foundation that they were both doing whatever it took to survive and they were willing to sacrifice whatever means to ensure the safety of the other. It was strong and needy and reliant and steadfast.

And now that Virgil could name it, that he could realize what he felt, Patton might not even survive.

“V,” Logan whispered. Virgil kept his head down, already knowing what Logan was going to say. Already knowing no one came back with him. He sniffed, his voice thick with tears. “V, they aren’t coming. He said…he said if Patton died then his debt would be repaid. I-I’m sorry, V. I’m so sorry.”

“V,” Patton murmured. “V, can you do me a favor?”

Virgil almost choked on his words as he said, “Anything.”

“Get out. Promise me you’ll get out.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Patton die. Not wanting to see the life leave him. “Please don’t talk like that. Please don’t talk like you’re going to die. I can’t— I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” Patton smiled. “I won’t. I can’t feel it anyway. I feel…tired.”

“Then sleep,” Virgil said. “Sleep and dream of something better. Something complete.”

“I can do that, I think.”

And so they sat in the alley as Virgil cried and waited for Patton’s heartbeat to fade. As Virgil pleaded and begged with any god to save him. To please save the one person who believed Virgil was more than a street rat. Who believed Virgil could be more than just a kid with nothing more half a name and a birthplace to go on.

As Logan stood at the edge of the alley, silently crying for a boy he’d never met. As he held himself so as not to run away. As he bowed his head to mourn.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil whispered when Patton’s breathing had long since faded and his body had stilled for good. “Do you remember that day we first met? That day when it rained so hard and so long. I never told you, but I almost wished we’d never met. Maybe then I’d never have fallen for you.”

Virgil lowered Patton’s head to the ground, joints jerking and popping as he stood. “Call the police, Logan. Get them here somehow. He needs…he needs proper care now.”

Logan pressed his hands to his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Virgil’s legs felt wobbly and numb. How he was going to do anything, he didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t care.

“I’ll come with you—”

“No. I can’t— I don’t want—” Virgil took a deep breath although it only served to make him lightheaded and dizzy. “Go back and-and stay.”

“But I—”

“Logan, please. I just want to be left alone.”

Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes as he drew himself up and let out a scream. Virgil slipped by as people turned to see why he yelled. He put on a performance of falling down and pointing. But Virgil supposed maybe he really was afraid. Until a month ago, he’d never even seen a dead or dying body outside of a TV screen.

The numbness was fading, replacing it with a sharp, raging pain, taking root in his chest and spreading throughout his body and the only thing he wanted to get away. Away from Patton’s death, away from this pain, away from the thoughts swirling around him.

What reason would Virgil have for staying now that Patton was gone? What reason did he have for anything now that Patton’s was gone? What was he supposed to do now that the one person who understood him, who knew what it was like to be in that hellhole of a place with no escape, was gone? Was he to think of a plan to escape? He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t want to think about anything.

So he didn’t. He didn’t look back or give another thought. The cold air whipping around him and the lights blurring, Virgil did what he did best: he ran.

—–

send me prompts!

—–

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[sirenfromthelostcity]

The Most Pt. 2: Dangerous Woman

A/N: Sorry if this has any errors that i’ve missed to correct when i was quickly reading it over, i just wanted to finally post it as y’all have waited long enough. I accidentally turned this into a bigger thing so this might actually have like 2 more parts. Personally i’m feeling kinda iffy about this part, partially bc it was kinda rushed but that was my fault. Still tho i hope you like it! The story changed in direction so many times lol but i really hope you like the final result of this part. As always, massive thanks to everyone who has bothered to read pt 1 and return for a pt 2! Feedback is always appreciated :) Enjoy!

P.S. I normally write my flashback scenes in italics but idk why in the last part it didn’t post that way. 

Words: 3.3k+

The silence was unbearable. In fact, it’s been unbearable since you first departed John’s house for The Continental. Things certainly haven’t been the same since your outburst four days ago. Now here you both are, entering the elevator to take you to the lounge room where you are to meet your father and uncle Winston to officially mark John’s completion of the marker.

“So, this contract my father has for me must be quite important for him to have cut our training so short,” you remarked, no longer bearing the silence.

“I suppose,” he replied.

“Still, you must be excited.” 

“I must be?” he frowned, turning his head to face you but you remained looking ahead.

“Today’s the day you’re set free. I know how much you hated being bound to the marker.”

“It wasn’t an easy transition for me in the beginning,” he admitted, “but I did enjoy my time with you... more than I expected to.”

“As did I,” you finally glance at him before licking your lips and dropping your gaze to your feet. “Listen, John, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting these past few days,” you recalled the day of your outburst in training and the next few days that followed. “To tell you the truth, it’s really not how I would’ve preferred to spend our last few days together.”

“How would you have liked for us to spend our last few days together then?”

For a moment you were at a loss for words. He used the same words you had previously spoken yet it felt like they had a different undertone.

“Uh, probably more together–– wait that came out wrong. I think. I just meant I was kinda isolating myself and acting pretty distant and… and had I known my dad was gonna end my training so soon ...” 

You hesitated, not quite so sure what to say. You questioned if it was even worth trying to say. John’s eyes implored you to go on but since you wouldn’t he decided to confess something.

“On the night of your father’s call, I tried to convince him to at least let you finish the full five years we had initially agreed on.”

“Why would you do that?” you frown in confusion and concernment. “You don’t think I’m ready?”

“No. I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself.”

“Aww that’s sweet, can’t take all the credit though. I had a really great teacher. He was tough on me sometimes but I know he was just trying to push me to be my best,” you jest. “So then why did you want to complete the full five years, you afraid you’re gonna miss me?”

 “I know I’m gonna miss you,” his words, although so simple, were heavy with sadness. Though he wasn’t even trying to hide his sadness the task would’ve proved itself impossible for both his sorrow and vulnerability was evidently reflected in his eyes. You couldn’t help but stare back at him with the same sorrow and vulnerability reflected in your own eyes.

You were both so caught in the moment neither of you even noticed the elevator doors open. John attempted to say something but was quickly caught off by your uncle addressing your arrival.

“Ah! There they are,” Winston motioned towards you both.

“Uncle Winston!” You say in both surprise and slight annoyance for interrupting the moment.

“Winston,” John greeted your uncle before the both of you were ushered into the lounge room together.

After your father officially marked John’s completion of the marker in the book, he immediately lead you to sit down with him at a different area of the room for privacy. You felt John’s eyes follow you and caught him stealing a few glances your way during your conversation. At one point it seemed as if John was going to make his way to you but your uncle Winston decided to steal him for a chat instead. 

That was the last time you saw John Wick. Until now. 

Staring at you from across the entrance of a nearly empty warehouse, John stands completely surprised to see you for the first time in nearly two months, “(Y/N)?”

“John?” you reply, just as shocked.  “What brings you to these parts of town? You’re not here to kill me are you?”

“No,” he furrows his brows, as if he’d ever take that contract. If anything, he knows he’d stop at nothing to ensure that contract is revoked. “But I am here for business.”

“Small world, so am I.”

“I didn’t know you were back in the city,” he states.

“Don’t take it personal, no one’s supposed to know I’m back,” you begin to approach him. “However, I was planning on visiting you after I finished sorting everything out with this contract. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“So have I,” he begins to amble towards you till you meet, his eyes never leaving your form as you saunter towards him. 

As you approach him you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks and how much you’ve missed seeing him. Little to your knowledge, John is doing the exact same. 

You’ve always recognized John as an attractive man and tonight is no different. Although you’re more used to seeing his long hair styled more casual, almost ruffled, seeing it tamed in a slicked back fashion sends shivers down your spine accompanied with wild thoughts of having it tousled within your fingers. John owns a variety of suits, as it’s practically a requirement in your world, but you absolutely love how they adorn his body and compliment his tall form, especially the all black suit he wears now. You’ve seen John in his Baba Yaga mode before and have to admit his look is as delicious as he is dangerous.

As for you, this is the first time John’s ever seen you in your business mode and unsurprisingly to him, you look as stunning as you are lethal. Your attire essentially consist of only one color, black, but the color suits everyone and you’re no exception. Your garments consist of a simple v-neck long sleeve shirt tucked into your jeans and tall comfortable leather boots. To top it all off you wear a sleek leather jacket, one John can’t help but adore how well it flatters you. Simple garments indeed but to John you’ve always looked comely no matter what you wore. 

“What a very small world indeed,” you both halt to a stop as you finally meet. “What are the chances that you and I, both with the intention of seeking and reuniting with the other, just so happen to cross paths at the same warehouse in New York?”

“Very slim. Although I am glad to see,” you heart flutters at this revelation, “this does seem a little suspicious.”

“Who did you say you were here for?” you question.

“I didn’t, but I’m here for Robert O’Riley.”

“So am I,” you frown. “I don’t understand, I was told this wasn’t an open contract.”

“I was told the same,” John takes a moment to assess the situation but it doesn’t take long for him to realize he doesn’t like it. He glances at you before taking your hand in his and heading towards the exit.

“Wait, where are we going?” you inquire, jogging behind him 

“Away from here. I don’t like this.”

Before you and John could officially reach the exit the doors burst open in an explosive manner, sending you two flying back onto the ground. Along with a slight ringing in your ear, you hear a window break as another explosion goes off, instinctively covering your head to shelter yourself from the debris. At least three more explosions go off, the entire warehouse is now decorated in fire, smoke, and shattered glass. 

“(Y/N)?!” John screams out for you.

“I’m fine! Where are you- AHH!” you suddenly get an excruciating pain pulsing through the left side of your lower abdomen as you attempt to sit up. You look down only to see a large piece of broken glass sticking out of you. “Not good.” 

You yelp in pain as you extract the shard of glass from your body and promptly apply pressure to the bleeding wound.

Despite the pain you rise up to your feet, “John!” you call out, coughing and limping your way through the smoke. 

“(Y/N)!” John calls out from behind you, relieved to see you alive.

You turn around and the two of your make your way to each other. 

John immediately spots your bloodied hand covering your lower abdomen and the concern within him speedily rises. 

Seeing his concern you swat your hand through the air in a nonchalant manner, “It’s really not that bad,” you lie. 

John shakes his head, seeing through your white lie. Still, he knows he’d rather assess your injury outside than in a burning building.

“I know a way out,” he coughs.

Noticing your limp, he wraps your arm around his shoulder before wrapping an arm around your waist to help you walk. Together you exit the burning building. 

As you both continue to walk together you suddenly holt as you hear movement and the sound of car doors opening and slamming shut, “Wait, someone’s here.”

The both of you remain hidden in the darkness but as you near the luminescence of a street light, you see at least six men all clad in suits huddling up to one man.

“Perché siamo ancora qui? L'edificio è sul fuoco del cazzo! (Why are we still here? The building is on fucking fire)” says one of the men with a hand up in the air, motioning to the burning building.

“Because, you dumbfuck,” the main mobster turns to directly rebuke his partner, “it’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and John Wick.” 

“She’s back?!” trembles another. “And he’s here too?!”

“The fu- were you not listening the entire car ride here?!”

“They’re just two people,” the first ruffian exasperatedly drops his hands to his sides. “I don’t get why you had to bring a whole cavalry for this.” 

Three more cars arrive and several more men begin to exit the vehicles.

“Do not, I repeat, do not underestimate them. They are two people that have proven multiple times to be very difficult to kill. We’re just here to make sure the job is finally done.”

“Matteo, you really think they’re still alive?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. Valentino is not ruling anything out, so we’re here.”

You recognize the name and frown in perplexity. You know exactly who the mob leader is referring to but cannot recall ever crossing paths with him either in your personal or professional life. However, the same cannot be said for John.

“What do you want us to do?” chimes in another mobman. 

“Look around the place, make sure no one besides us leaves this place alive. Boss wants no loose ends, capire (understand)?” he commands. 

“Inteso (understood),” several of the men mutter.

“John we have to split up,” you whisper. 

“My car is right there,” he nods to his vehicle a couple meters away. 

“Okay but they are most definitely gonna shoot at us either as we run to it or as we’re driving away. I don’t wanna risk that.”

“You’re in a really bad condition right now and I’m not gonna risk that.”

“But John–” you grumble and he cuts you off.

“We stick to the shadows. You need to get patched up.”

Although endearing, John’s sudden protective nature of you slightly annoys you. With him being the man that’s trained you for nearly five years you’d think he’d have a little more faith in you. Nonetheless, you stick to John’s plan of sneaking your way to the car and it works. That is until you encounter one of Valentino’s thugs taking a presumably unapproved smoke break. 

The man’s eyes go wide in shock and horror as the sight of both you and John was certainly not something he anticipated despite the warnings from earlier. Using his shock to your advantage you quickly push John into cover before outdrawing the mobman and expertly shooting him twice in the gut and once in the head for good measure. You immediately run for cover behind an empty car as the body drops to the ground. John sees a man aim at you and immediately shoots him in the head before any harm can be done, any harm towards you at least. With those shots fired, the battle begins. 

You skillfully maneuver your way around different covers, successfully eliminating the mob men one by one. Never straying far from you, John swiftly does the same until there's no one left but the two of you. You take a quick look around your surroundings to make sure the threat is over. Upon spotting John your lips twitch into a small smile, relieved that he’s okay. However, as your adrenaline begins to fade, the pain from your wound returns and your breathing becomes heavy. You slide down against a car with a grunt and John is instantly at your side hovering down to pick you up and take you to his car. 

“I got you,” he says, rushing to get to his car with you in his arms. 

Once he finally has you situated in your seat, he gets into his own and begins to race to the nearest motel at breakneck speed. Although John would much rather prefer to take you to The Continental, he knows you’ve already lost a lot of blood and is not going to risk the long drive there.

“John, I’m cold,” you say, breathlessly. 

“I know sweetheart, just stay with me we’re almost there,” his hand reaches over to inspect your wound and the fear within him rises more as he feels how soaked your hand is from your own blood. His hand overlaps your own, assisting you in applying pressure onto the wound.

You exhaustedly giggle at the new nickname, “John I have to tell you something, just in case–”

“Please don’t talk like that, (Y/N),” he says to you distraught. “We’re nearly there.”

“But John I–”

“What day is it?” he asks.

“What?”

“I need you to stay conscious. What day is it?”

“I’m trying to tell you something.”

“You can tell me that when you’re feeling better. Please, what day is it?”

You stay silent to actually think about it for a second, your mind feeling fuzzy, “.... Friday…. It’s now Friday...”

“Cats or dogs?”

“What?”

“Cats or dogs?”

“... That’s hard… they’re both so cute …. I love your dog though… dogs.”

“Day time or night time?”

“... Night time… definitely night time..” 

“... Boy or girl?”

“What?”

“If given the chance would you want to have a girl or boy?”

“That’s easy… I’ll take either… so long as I love the person I’m having ‘em with … I know I’ll love the kid no matter what..”

John looks at you for a moment before focusing back to the road but his look can be described as nothing but doting and warm. To his relief the motel comes into his view and he drives into the parking lot. 

“I’ll be back,” he says, exiting the car to get you two a room.

“I”ll be here,” you pant. “Sitting...”

On approaching the check in desk, John, looking like he’s just escaped from a burning building, briefly scares the man behind the desk. He orders a room for two with separate beds and pays the clerk extra for discretion and privacy. Before leaving he asks the clerk, Dave, if the rooms have first aid kits. 

“Uh yeah, all our rooms have them. They’re in the bathroom under the sink.”

“Thank you,” John nods before quickly exiting the front desk area and heading straight to you. 

At once John is opening your door and helping you out of the car and into your room. He quickly turns on the lights and seats you on a chair next to a round wooden table. As told, John finds the first aid kit in the bathroom then proceeds to disinfect his hands before helping you take off your jacket then sitting on the empty seat in front of you and fixing your wound. To both the relief of John and you, the shard didn’t break in you so he is able to clean the wound quickly. Unfortunately for you, your wound requires stitches. It’s not information you didn’t know but it is something you’re not looking forward to and John sees it when he catches you glare at the needle and thread in his hands. 

“You’ve never gotten stitches before?” he asks.

“I’ve tried really hard to avoid them.”

“I have to do this,” he says and you silently nod in acknowledgment. “It’ll be over before you know it. Just, think about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. What do you wanna do after this?” 

“Sleep,” you blatantly reply, your eyes slowly blinking. 

“No, no, no, you’ll get to do that but not now. You need to stay with me. What do you wanna do when this is all over?”

“Um,” you think. “The beach… I’d like to go to the beach…” 

“Why the beach?” he asks, you feel the needle prick your skin and wince at the pain. 

“Why the beach?” he repeats, continuing with stitching you up.

“... It’s been a really long time for me since I’ve been on one… since I felt the waves graze my feet … and crash into my body…”

“Tell me more.”

“I wanna feel the winds of the sea flow through my hair… and the sand…. soft against my skin …. Will you go with me?”

He pauses in his work to look at you, “Of course I’ll go with you, sweetheart.”

You smile, “There it is again.”

“What?”

“That nickname.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I love it. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I don’t think any of us really expected anything that happened tonight.”

“You’re right about that,” you giggle. 

“All done,” he says as he finishes closing the stitch. “How do you feel?”

“Tired and light…. Guess that’s expected though, I lost a lot of blood.”

John silently listens and watches you intently. You wonder what thoughts are going through his mind.

“Thank you, John,” you start, “you saved my life tonight.”

“No need to thank me, (Y/N),” he reaches for your hand and gently squeezes it. “Thank you protecting mine earlier.”

You suddenly remember the big gun fight that erupted maybe an hour ago, “Oh yeah, nearly forgot about that. It was nothing, my instincts just kicked in then. Told you it was gonna happen, one way or another. But you were so worried about me.”

“Sweetheart I’ll always worry about you. I know you can handle yourself but the situation was different.”

“I get it,” you nod. 

John quickly looks you over before rising from his seat and helping you get up from yours. 

“Where we going?” you ask.

“You need to get cleaned up to get some rest and you can’t do that here. Not when someone is clearly out to get us. We’re going to The Continental.”

[artificialqueens]

don't play the fool now (multi) - chapter two - lily2

adore isn’t too interested in attending the famous and ever-so popular: club katya however, she bumps into someone who leaves a lasting impression. meanwhile, shea breaks the most basic rules of her job and katya definitely cares for her sister more than she should.

— ✧*。

Adore stood, locking arm’s with Scarlet and Courtney who were on both of her sides, both of them completely dolled up and wearing their finest and cutest sequin dresses, the new employee stuck out like a sore thumb with her long hair down, a short and black v-neck dress and of course some fishnets and bright red lipstick— she didn’t want to be polished, it was a casino and a club after all, as if someone could get through a sentence or even speak to her about her possibly questionable style choices as they sat, gambling their life away and utterly wasted.

“Well I don’t see the others but we are a bit early.” The Australian speaking up and brushing her hair back gently, not wanting to ruin the shape before she heard a whistle and saw the rest of the girls from their unit walk up, Adore clearly the odd one out as even Yvie decided to dress in whatever she could find that wasn’t too casual. “Let’s do the damn thing ladies.” Aja spoke over the gaggle of girls who all interlocked hands, it almost looked like a cult; an extremely attractive and undercover (but not really) cult. 

First Scarlet and Courtney walked through, waving to the suspecting and familar bartenders and staff who greeted them oh-so-sweetly as expected from two glamorous regulars though Adore couldn’t help but notice the security’s eyes follow her before she turned the corner, clinging a bit to her two new teammates, not due to fear however, Azusa was far more tramuatic and terrifying as a thought than this entire casino: it was more the feeling of being so unaware, everything was bright and the lights a bit dim, people of every kind wanting the same two things: money and alcohol, music blasting as Yvie and Tatianna moved as they walked, feeling themselves to the song. 

“Obviously we aren’t gonna stick together forever so do we want to have a time and place to meet?” Scarlet raising her hand to stop the other seven girls from walking past her, raising a good concern. “The fact you think we will be sober enough to even remember.” Yvie cackled, amused that Scarlet really, truly believed picking a place in the middle of the night, at a casino was a good option for the unit of girls, trying to run away from the stress of their jobs and welcome Adore (in possibly the worst fashion possible) as they gambled and drank the night away, atleast that was what Yvie was planning to do with her time.

“It’s a genuine question, I’m sorry I don’t actually get wasted every time I go out somewhere and besides we’re not on the job, not like I have radios to talk with you guys!“ 

Tatianna held her phone up and nervously gave a smile to the two already beginning to start the usual bickering session, “But we all do have phones and I’m sure some of us will stick together, if anyone goes wrong let’s do that me and Brook Lynn are the ones to call, I know she doesn’t drink too often anhway and I’m pretty responsible so we’ll be the good parents today.” The Canadian shrugged, utterly and completely okay with that little suggestion, “That’s fine by me, I know I’m always the type to get bored and be on my phone anyway." 

"Why did you come then?” Yvie asked, gripping her arm, “Because someone has to be the responsible one like Tatianna said and I don’t trust any of the rest of you to be at Club Katya, we saw how that saga turned out for you and for Aja last time.” Adore wasn’t exactly sure what story that was about but judging by Aja’s cheeks beginning to glow red and Yvie’s stammer, she assumed it wasn’t the most pleasant situation or maybe it was the fucking funniest thing ever, she had yet to find out and maybe she never would.

“You’re coming with me!” Scarlet winked at Adore, speaking up over the rest of them and dragging her along with Courtney, the two of them giddy as can be, they seemed to legitmately enjoy the aesthetic and double life, not like anyone would ask what job they had and if they didn’t they certainly wouldn’t answer a private investigator or detective, what a damn downer.

“The first night of your job and you’re gonna spend it with us gambling, wonderful!” The chipper tone from Courtney’s voice enough to speak volumes of how this night was about to go, she was either going to earn a fuck ton of money or die on the balcony roof and both seemed like acceptable, viable options at this stage of the game.

“Let’s get our money ladies!" 

*.✧

Bianca, Shea and Jinkx gathered in the car, all dressed about as nice they ever would going to Club Katya though Bianca always attempted to atleast look decent, wanting to make a lasting impression and also show off her clothing, it was a win-win! Shea’s fingers tapped the window of the car she she stared blankly, the window of the black Tesla dimmed, Jinkx claiming it was for protection— not wanting others to make any assumptions but Shea knew it really came down to what was probably a sponsorship and the fact that Jinkx could barely drive if the sun was glaring, she probably got tired of wearing glasses in the car, claiming always it made her look older than Bianca.

"You’re really hilarious for someone who can’t even stay awake doing a simple task, why do you think I only give you the exciting shit? It’s not because I love you, it’s because I know you won’t fucking sleep and pass out on the concrete.” The Auburn haired woman had to laugh, gently clutching Bianca’s arm, Jinkx knew the mutual love and respect they had shared for over two decades was enough to make her atleast go a bit easy on the Seattle native, she twirled her own auburn hair around her fingertips before giving a blank stare at Shea, who turned and met her eyes.

Jinkx wasn’t exactly sure what to think of Shea just yet, she had been very promising and apparently Bob’s word of her was so generous and so incredible that Bianca already trusted her with Katya: Manila had been scared after only meeting her at Bianca’s own living space, though she had a few, once a few boys and drugs got involved so to see someone as new as Shea being trusted to handle the dirt and task to come was definitely terrifying and impressive enough.

“You nervous?” Bianca asked, crossing her legs as Shea’s eyes darted away from Jinkx, her hands interlocking with themselves as she shut her eyes, running a hand through her hair. “A little, but nothing I can’t handle, I’m here to show I’m ready for the job.” For someone who had only joined five months ago she was definitely a shining beacon of what the future was in store atleast that was how Bob put it and Bianca would definitely trust her word.

“Well, don’t stress yourself out before we’ve gotten there.” Was the only piece of truth Bianca could offer before she turned away from Shea who only gave a polite nod, wishing deeply she had just been sent with Aquaria and Violet instead, she had heard a lot about the infamous Katya Zamolodchikova.

Katya Zamolodchikova who had been in prison for drug abuse, Katya who had escaped Russia due to her family and the growing and rampant terror of government, Katya who now was a mogul in the Eastern United States for her line of casinos, clubs and whatever downtrodden thing she could possibly imagine, living on her own and hanging around at her own established area’s, staying hush and quiet about any business or disappearance of men or women who had messed with the wrong people. 

All she had to do was laugh or smile and she had anyone who was willing around her finger, her thick and curly long blonde hair covering almost all her beautifully and consistently painted face, wearing lots of lace and lingerie on her downtime and spending her growing fortune on beauty products, animal charities, her new projects and sometimes saving a stack or two for Bianca who had helped her break into the business and gave her a place when she was just a bedridden, ill immigrant, lost in New York City and barley able to communicate in proper English.

“I miss Katya!” Jinkx pouted, smiling at the thought of seeing her fellow Eastern European at her own club, she knew the meeting was for business but nothing a pack of cigarettes couldn’t do for sweet and dear Katya, Bianca had already figured out every mark and weakness she had and she really would be a difficult character to crack if it wasn’t for the fact she is the reason the bitch could even communicate in English. “I don’t.” Bianca laughed, hitting Jinkx before coughing and handling herself up again realizing Shea was still in the car and she had to keep up that “leader” and “supreme boss” act up. 

✧*。

The three exited the car, Bianca giving her driver direct and clear instructions when and where to come before he was on his way off, she walked in the middle of Shea and Jinkx, the latter auburn haired woman adjusting her dress and making sure it hit the floor in just the right light before she shook a bit to ease her own personal stress and begun walking closely to Bianca, Shea following in pursuit, knowing better than to open her mouth and ask questions. 

Music blasting, lights dimmed, flashing and bright colors everywhere, alcohol splattered on the floor everywhere they seemed to look and the constant image of people grinding or kissing or attempting to dance: this was definitely Katya’s club and her own doing.

Bianca’s heels hit the tile of the hallway right next to club, her two girls following, many knew this as the gateway from the Club to the Casino or vise versa but the hallway also housed dressing rooms for any kind of entertainment that showed up, Katya took after these rooms like her own and had even converted one into her personal space, knowing her entire life was work and the occasional times she went home and didn’t have to ring down ten shots of vodka. 

A smattering knock from Jinkx, credit to her, had the Russian cursing before she opened the door and her dull and otherwise threatening expression changed into a soft smile, her eyes raising in surprise as her lashes fluttered, shrieking then which made Shea almost collapse into the pavement in surprise, still grasping the door handle she quickly pulled the three of them in and locked the door— Bianca impressed with how well decorated and insulted the room was. 

The Russian quickly grabbing Bianca in her arms and laughing wholeheartedly, the two giggling and rowdy like two high schoolers, “красивая женщина!” She cooed in Russian to her dearest and nearest friend before taking Jinkx and planting a kiss on both of her cheeks as she reciprocated the favor, “красивое платье.” Jinkx flushing and waving her off, knowing more than enough Russian to realize she called her dress beautiful, “Спасибо!” The half-Ukranian replied with a soft glow across her face, Katya wearing nothing but a gorgeous red, feathered sheer robe with a thick black bra and spandex.

“Looking like a whore as usual.” Bianca teased as Shea stood a bit awkwardly, not exactly knowing how and when to introduce herself to the not-so-mysterious Russian mogul. “Oh yes!” Jinkx clapped noticing Shea, “Katya, this is Shea, she works for us and is a very good and promising employee." 

They shook hands though Katya was never into the formality, she’d rather kiss someone on the cheek than shake their hand and hope the other person didn’t have a strong grip. "Any friend of Bianca is of course a friend of mine, I trust you are new? I have yet to see or hear of you around.” Her sniffing was absolutely correct, Bianca explaining she was of Bob’s finding and is very dedicated to her line of work and extremely intelligent. “Likes leather to boot.” The comment from the blonde referring to her skin-tight leather emsmeble, “I like it!” She slapped Shea’s shoulders and flashed that endearing and famous Katya smile.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure." 

The four of them sat before Katya stood again, pouring four glasses of genuine Russian vodka she had gotten yesterday from her deliveries, "Just some taste of the motherland!” Handing a glass to the other three they cheered and took down the shot, Katya giving herself another sip straight from the bottle just for fun.

“So of course there is some business to speak of, we love you but we have a task to finish.” Bianca spoke first, Katya leaning in her chair and staring curiously, “Well yes, it’s what you must do, please tell me more.” Bianca opened her mouth before giving a signal for Jinkx and Shea to leave, an unusual turn of events they both gave eachother a disheartened look before they stood and went out the door, Bianca scooting closer to Katya, “I want them out because this goes back to you." 

"To me? Has my family finally caught up to me and the Russian government wants the money I stole back?" 

"Not exactly but I fear it has something to possibly do with your sister." 

Katya’s face bleached itself white, her breathing a bit slower but her heart racing almost three times as fast, her greatest and only fear in life wasn’t being killed, death, nothing like that; it was her sister being in harm and somehow poking herself at the underground and what was there, Sasha had majored in forensics and political science last Katya had heard, their brief and discreet conversation during their mother’s funeral at St. Petersburg more than enough of an indication that Sasha would absolutely become some kind of hero, politician or worse— detective.

"Bianca you swore to me she would never, ever get hurt or wind up in your cases.” The tone in her voice nothing but pure anger and disappointment, Bianca quickly grabbed her hands and shook her head, “And I’m keeping that promise, I’m a cold hearted bitch but jesus christ, you know I would never do that shit.”

The Russian breathed a much needed sigh of relief before letting go of her hands, “So what, I’m guessing she is a detective now? My worst fear.” Bianca could only nod and see Katya’s eyes flash with nothing but utter fear and worry, she knew that meant her sister was safe but at a distance— they weren’t going to just dismiss her and go easy if she tried to harass and meddle in what she didn’t need to even if she was Katya’s sister but: the promise would always be kept, Katya was absolutely sacred and her sister was untouched territory, that’s how it would stay.

“She is but from our files it shows she really hasn’t broken out on us specifically, she is doing the easy work, not the dirty work, anyone can take someone to court for a single count of murder and analyze the results." 

"So what about her is so important then?" 

Bianca snuck a file folder covered in sticky notes, throwing it to Katya for her to open and investigate herself.

"We need you to help us out and pull some strings." 

✧*。

Shea had decided to take the chance as she walked herself over the casino, knowing Bianca was someone who would take her sweet, sweet time if she was talking business and things with Katya: Jinkx insisting on just staying by the club and getting alcohol. Giving herself a grand tour, Shea gagged at the sheer amount of wealth and power and beauty the casino showed off, clearly Katya was intent on showing every penny she had put into her business and buildings, it showed from the outside to the inside.

Alcohol was the only thing really on her mind and she wanted to overpay for a speciality cocktail to atleast make herself feel a bit fancy and important, not wanting to be in the club lights and blasting music, the Casino had music but was definitely not loud and not obnxious party and dance music, it was a nice welcome in the moment.

Her eyes immediately caught eye of a stranger, short haired, curly blonde and tall who was leaning against the bar and speaking to someone next to her who had long, thick and black hair. The blonde’s soft gaze almost instantly gravitating Shea towards her, she prayed that she wasn’t married and this wouldn’t be awkward fast, she simply wanted a drink and the opportunity to buy her one. 

"Excuse me.” Shea spoke up, gently tapping the blonde on her shoulder, she turned in the barstool and her eyes met with Shea’s and the two completely melted, Sasha incomprehensibly silent before Adore nudged her a bit, smirking seeing her new co-worker and fellow friend so caught in midst of the gaze. 

“Oh I’m sorry, that was so rude.” The Russian speaking up once Adore gently shook her out of it, the two smiling at eachother as Sasha leaned on the bar counter, telling that the mysterious and new girl clearly was struggling to speak, “I…" 

Shea put her hands around her own waist and gave a glistening grin and wink, sliding in-between her and her friend, Adore raising her hands a bit frustrated that she might already turn into the third wheel. "I was wondering if I could buy you a drink." 

"I would be very glad if you did." 

Thank god, Shea begun to calm a bit, pulling out an 100$ bill and sliding it to the bar tender who quickly took it and waited for whatever drinks they wanted to purchase, "I just want straight vodka.” She must’ve been Eastern European judging by her choice in alcohol, it wasn’t sterotypical, it was just what she had come to understand from Jinkx and barely meeting Katya twenty minutes ago. Not to mention the not too obvious but still noticable punch of an accent

“Gin and tonic.” She instructed while still staring at Sasha, entranced, she was already breaking ten rules in the non-existent handbook of being in the mafia but not like Bianca was even wondering where she was, if she was she would’ve called anyway. “I’m Sasha.” She giggled, Shea taking her hand and giving a small wink in reply, “Shea." 

Adore didn’t know whether to throw up and just leave, let her be or see where this went but she decided on the usual, giving Sasha a discreet tap of the shoulder, a nod from her and she was off on her on.

Ten minutes of aimless strolling had showed that Scarlet and Courtney were both gambling as if they had any good amount of money to lose so freely, flying by the hem of their dresses. But they genuinely seemed to be loving their lives and the game they were playing.

"Oh shit!” She yelped, feeling herself fall into someone as she stared backwards, not paying attention to whatever was in front of her, an entire bag dropped but she more focused on helping out the poor person she had knocked down.

“Jesus Christ!” Yelled the other, distinctly female voice, before Adore gently took her hands and helped her up, making sure she didn’t trip on her heels before they both begun to speak, quickly letting go of their hands. 

Bianca couldn’t help but glance at her, she was gorgeous. She would usually rip someone in fishnets to pieces and destroy them on sight but damn she looked good and everything fit her to a t, clearly she had her own eye for fashion, her dark eyes and dark hair only helping her to blend in with the dark wall of the casino, “I’m sorry, I really didn’t watch where I was going—" 

"I know, I know, I got that.” Bianca dusted herself off and only hoped her heels didn’t suffer any damages, they were expensive and a gift from Raja which meant she either bought them or stole them but either way, same attachment to the perfectly snug white heels. Adore snapped back, “I’m sorry?" 

"Listen don’t worry about it, really, thank you for your help.” Bianca raced off as fast as a normal person could look trying to run in heels across a casino at night but Adore blinked, finally shying her eyes away from the woman. 

She was beautiful. 

Black hair, styled very nicely to add onto the overall package, white heels, a tulle skirt and either handsewen or what Adore assumed was designer for a sequined top that matched and coordinated so well with her entire outfit, she was either the most important person in the world and Adore was oblivious or she was just someone’s arm candy for the night who needed to make themselves into a beauty queen for the occasion.

Adore didn’t believe too badly in many things but she would definitely pray and hope that somehow, somehow she could find that same girl again, someday

[lexisnowangel18]

X Marks the Spot (Part 2)

He’s one of the richest and mysterious CEOs in the world. You’re an assassin and secret agent that wants to get rid of all those who uses their power for evil. When you’re assigned to get close to him and eliminate him, will it be an easy job? Or is he too powerful? (Comments and pointers are welcomed!)

Yandere!CEO!Jungkook X Spy/Assassin!Reader (Slight) X Agent!Yoongi

(Prologue), (Part 1)

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

SLAM!

You slowly opened your eyes and checked the time. The clock read 7:00 am. You’re usually up by 5:30 am, however, the day after you finish a mission, you get to have a few extra hours of rest. Sometimes it’ll go on for a while until you get a new mission. You got up from your bed and did your exact morning routine. Made the bed, brushed your teeth, shower, changed, washed your face, did your hair and makeup, and eat breakfast. After a mission, you would treat yourself to slightly junkie food for the whole day. Today, you went to the little cafe around the corner that had the best blueberry muffins in the world! The familiar bell ringing, signaled your entrance in the cafe. You can already feel yourself drool.

“Figured you’d come here.”

You turned to the source of voice and saw Agent Suga. Well, Yoongi, since you both haven’t clocked in just yet. He was wearing a simple business attire as your dress code was to wear whatever you’re more comfortable moving in.

“I’d thought you’d be locked in your office wanting to finish that report as soon as possible” You smiled.

“Usually, but I’d figure I get to try what you do after a successful mission.” Yoongi held up a brown bag and a cup carrier with two cups.

“Apple Cider with cinnamon right? There’s a booth in the back that doesn’t have a window.” He flashed his famous gummy smile.

Your cheeks couldn’t help but feel a little warm from that smile. With a nod, you followed Yoongi to the booth. You both sat across from each other and were given your drink and a blueberry muffin.

“I got two for each if you want another or later for a snack.” 

Yoongi took a bite of his own muffin and his smile grew. You took a bite as well and melted into the delicious taste. You can tell how fresh it is by the softness of the pastry. It’s like biting into a cloud with a burst of saltiness from the butter and the sweetness from the blueberries.

“I can see why you reward yourself with these after a mission.” Yoongi commented as he put his sugar in his coffee.

“Bleh, how can you like that gunk!?” You scrunched your nose and eyes from the strong coffee smell. You were definitely not a coffee person.

Yoongi chuckled, “Sorry, but some of us need a real booster in the morning besides that leaf water you like to drink.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be insulted. How could a member of my own family say something of horrible! You both shared a laughed and continued with breakfast.

“So what’s the new mission you’ll be going on?” 

“Another undercover mission. I’m supposed to get close to another CEO, get all the information he has, then take him out.” You explained as you finished your last muffin. “Though, he didn’t say why I need to take him out. It was late and close to falling asleep on the floor.’

“Who’s the target?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Yoongi eyes widen a bit and that caught your attention. As an agent, you were trained to watch a person’s every movement. From how their eyes move to even if one of their fingers twitches the slightest to even how the breath. Yoongi wasn’t one to show his emotions so easily.

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just...I know you can handle yourself, but rumor has it is that Jungkook might be one of the toughest targets the organization has seen. Because the Jeon company has ran many of the highest companies in South Korea, lots of people believe he’s untouchable.” 

You furrowed your brows at this information. Sounds like Mr. Jeon is going to give you some trouble already. However, Agent RM still hasn’t given you the full brief. Maybe there’s a weakness you don’t know about yet.

“Well RM is supposed to give me information today, I’m sure he’ll give me a bunch of tips on how to bring this guy down.” 

You both started heading out to Yoongi’s car so you can drive to HQ. Before you knew it, you were heading to RM’s office to find out more about Jungkook. Since you’ve been in the organization since you were a kid, this wasn’t your first rodeo, but that doesn’t mean you knew what was going to come your way. The familiar door appeared in front of you and you did your own secret knock.

“Come in Agent X”

You entered the office and headed to the desk where your boss was. RM had his thick rim glasses on as he was gathering some papers on his desk. You’ve always admired your boss. Only a few years older than you and became the boss of the 3rd highest organizations in all of South Korea. He was quiet most of the time and so were you when you were first transferred here from your home country. However, when you meet Agent V, or Taehyung, and Yoongi, a piece of your old self came back. You had a new family and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Take a seat Agent X, we have a lot to discuss.”

“Yes sir.”

“So” He handed you a rather large file. “Everything you need to know about Jeon Jungkook, the Jeon family, and your new identity is in this file. Now the reason we’re targeting him is because there’s been reports of his girlfriends going missing. Sometimes their family and friends would go missing as well. However, because of his power, a lot of the missing reports get swept under the rug.”

“If you don’t mind me asking sir, how did we get this information?” You couldn’t helped to ask.

“One of our agents was interrogating a rotten cop and made a deal with us. He gave us this information on Jungkook and we cut his jail time.” You nodded and opened the file to check your new identity.

“Your new identity is now Saige Eddison. An American that came to South Korea as a translator for a new book company he’s opening next week. This will give you time to move into the new apartment near it and if he’s wondering around by himself, we’ll send you coordinates so you can “casually” run into him. Some of the things that his past girlfriends had in common were that they had a simple life, weren’t too adventurous, weren’t too quiet either, innocent, sweet.”

Your face cringed a little at how you had to act. You were a spy and assassin so sweet and innocent weren’t a common word to describe you. RM saw your face and chuckled a bit, which surprised you. You didn’t think he could laugh.

“I know, but out of all of the female agents here, you’re face-”

“Is perfect for this new identity” You interrupted with a small huff, not your first time hearing that reason why you’re given this type of mission, “I’m very aware sir.”

He smirked, “You also have this small spark in you like Agent V that also makes you perfect for this mission.”

“Yes sir.”

“Any questions?”

“One sir.” You took a small deep breath. “I am very confident that I will succeed, however, it’s come to my attention on the power that Jungkook has. Will I be going in alone?” Even though you are trained to not feel anxious, there was the tiniest feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“No, you’ll be working with Agent V and Agent Suga on this one. If I’m being honest, I would send more agents with you, but because of the power Jungkook holds, we have to hold back if we want to get him.”

You nodded understanding his decision.

Jeon Jungkook...

I will end you.  

[galacticvampirisms]

So @hkasof‘s amazing art inspired the start of this fic. I’ve still not reached the actual thing I set out to write about because I’m extra af and wanted to sketch in some backstory. And also include this little bit because it’s v meaningful to me. 

I’m still gonna be writing a lot (but it’s all scattered. I literally laid down and instead of working on zine layouts spent an hour writing another 1500 words of this “ficlet” wtf). I don’t know. This art is inspiring. This pairing is inspiring. I’m drowning in inspiration and I can’t get up. 

Also since Haley missed the time I just quietly reblogged it, hopefully @’ng will make sure it reaches your notes. I bolded the first sentence of the new stuff so you can find your place! 

Matsuo wasn’t good with people. Even at Claw, he’d preferred to keep to himself. The other espers considered him odd because he liked being with his spirits more than people, but they didn’t get it.

While Sakurai wore his curse like a badge of honor, Matsuo preferred to keep his Tragic Backstory ™ under lock and key. After all, it wasn’t as though he would be very accepted if he did open up to the others. He was certain of this, even after a group of middle schoolers and their weird guardian destroyed the 7th Division headquarters.

Unfortunately, this meant Matsuo wasn’t really sure what to do with his life without Claw.

Retail? He dropped a vial containing a new pet and found himself fired for the amount of damage she had caused while he tried to coax her back into a better jar, much more cozy for her ballooning body. Not that the manager could see her of course. He just saw the destruction like a tornado after leaving Matsuo alone for twenty minutes.

Factory work? Much of the packaging was too monotonous or would strain his health after a couple weeks working odd, long shifts.

Finally, he chose to work as a regular psychic, specializing in exorcisms. It was hard. He had to be polite to customers, even when they abused or misgendered him or made fun of his style. And then he got the call, like nearly every other psychic in the region.

Asagiri mansion.

There had been so many people at the mansion, it was easy to hide from the loud and talkative Reigen and his strange student. Matsuo watched the rogue ghost wreck havoc of the legitimate and false espers alike, feeling a familiar warmth spread through his body. That ghost was powerful. He wanted it.

And… he got it. Mogami Keiji, a formerly powerful esper that had eaten so many evil spirits that even being exorcised hadn’t drained the spirit’s powers completely. Mogami was kept in a canister at first, the stickers imbued with Matsuo’s containing aura gradually layering on so thick it was impossible to see the original object.

Mogami’s negative energy kept corroding the layers, and sometimes Matsuo thought he could hear Mogami speak. Not like how the other spirits spoke to him, unintelligible to other people not so closely attuned to the dead.   See, ghosts degraded after awhile, metamorphizing into animalistic beasts – beasts that Matsuo could understand and befriend (or control, if they were especially unhelpful). But Mogami wasn’t a beast.

No, he was something else.

“Pudding-chan, won’t you play nice today?” Matsuo spoke to the poison jar softly, picking it up to carry with him as he prepared for the day. He didn’t like leaving his more dangerous spirits unattended, and the weight of the jar was a comfort, grounding him in the moment. The stickers looked less absurd next to the mess of magnets that he collected on his fridge. “We’ve a couple of clients today looking for…” The emails were all on his phone, and he checked it, positive mood immediately dropping. “Oh, fantastic. They’re wanting an escort for a spirit walk. How exciting.”

The jar didn’t move or make any sign that the spirit inside was listening. Still, Matsuo continued on, by now quite used to talking aloud to ease the silence when one of his pets wasn’t out. “You think it’d be easy after dealing with all the low-ranking members of Claw at the base. It’s not. At least they left me alone. These are, ugh, young adults. They’re going to want to talk to me. Have potentially meaningful conversation.” Ignoring the fact that Matsuo himself could be considered a young adult. Under thirty-five at the very least. He set about making breakfast, sucking the spoon he used to scoop jam onto toast as a self-soothing measure. “The pay is barely worth it.”

Rent, bills, things he wasn’t used to after living at the 7th Division base. But now he had an apartment, a small one, but big enough for his books and pets and himself. And Mogami, Pudding-chan, the pet that steadily corroded the stickers keeping him contained. “Are you hungry Pudding-chan? Maybe we’ll find something for you while we’re out.” Mogami was a picky eater after all, and harder still to keep contained when giving him an evil spirit to devour.

It was a quiet existence, lonely in some ways, but Matsuo was alive. Living more respectably, in his own little apartment looking out over Seasoning City and avoiding trouble. All of Claw knew eventually what would happen, figured they’d be bulldozed by their former boss, the one who had given them their scars to begin with. But Matsuo maybe foolishly hoped that he’d be left well enough alone. Just live his life with his spirits like a person might with their cats.

As if.

He saw the television takeover like most people did, but unlike the social media chatter that thought it a joke, Matsuo panicked. Immediately, he gathered his most powerful spirits, Mogami included, leaving his apartment for what might be the last time.

But Seasoning City had been shut down. No one in, no one out. It was Suzuki’s plan to force his hometown to witness its destruction.

Honestly, what happened to Matsuo before running into Mob and Minegishi isn’t terribly important to this story. He hid, he protected himself from Claw lackeys hunting down espers, questioning how they were suddenly so powerful, and he managed to keep a lid on Mogami’s jar to the very end. Until he didn’t.

And we know what happened there.

Matsuo ran from the destruction, following Mogami’s trail to the edge of the city, where they were both still trapped by Claw’s intense barrier. “Pudding-chan! What happened? Why didn’t you destroy Minegishi?” The spirit seemed focused on the barrier, ignoring the esper below. “Pudding-chan… Pudding-chan!” There was a brief pause before Matsuo changed tactics. “Mogami-san?”

“Mm?” Mogami looked down at Matsuo, frowning. Well, frowning more. It had been much longer than his death since he had smiled properly. “Oh, it’s you. You’re the one who trapped me in a jar.”

“Well,” Matsuo started slowly, only a little put off by the negativity Mogami exuded. “I also fed you. And kept you from disappearing.”

“And talked incessantly about anything that popped into your head.”

Matsuo was only slightly offended by that. “Well, you weren’t exactly a conversationalist.”

Mogami looked at Matsuo for a moment longer. “I was in a jar.” He turned back to the barrier.

“Okay… you have a point. What are you doing anyway?”

“Trying to get out. That boy seems to be learning. I don’t need to be here.” The spirit pushed against the barrier, getting repelled immediately with a fierce red aura Matsuo recognized immediately. He reached out, pulling Mogami back. “Hey!” Mogami turned to the esper in anger, but the genuine concern wiped whatever the spirit was about to say from his mind.

“Don’t do that; it’ll exorcise you before you can get through.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend Mogami-san.”

There was silence then, marked only by the sound of air moving, maybe a bird or the distant sound of a TV. There is no true silence in the world anymore, especially not in cities, even cities that were under threat of destruction. But between esper and ghost, former(?) evil spirit and former evil organizational leader, there was a moment of the truest silence to be found. Matsuo released Mogami from his hold, but the spirit didn’t move.

“You realize you say that so casually to someone who has done many evil things,” Mogami finally said, breaking their moment. “Not everything I think I care to regret.”

“I’ve done evil things too… and I don’t think I can regret all of them either.”

Mogami floated closer. “The boy seemed to know you.”

Matsuo let him approach, unafraid. “He definitely knew you.”

“He… taught me that perhaps the world isn’t so dark as I once thought.”

Matsuo nodded in agreement. “His master showed me how to grow up.”

“Grow up? You still eat sugared cereal.” There was a comfortableness in Mogami’s voice now, as he floated to be just taller than Matsuo, though his feet were well off the ground. Matsuo shifted, folding his arms across his chest and trying to stand taller.

“And just what’s so wrong with that? Adults eat sugar all the time.”

“It’s just… cute.” Matsuo blushed and looked away, back towards where they had left. “What are you going to do Matsuo?”

“I don’t know. If anyone can beat Suzuki, it’s that boy. He and his master could probably talk sense into a rock if they chose.”

“No, I mean. Afterwards. Will you keep being a psychic for hire?”

Matsuo made a face. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. But what about you? What are you going to do?”

“…I don’t know. I don’t regret many of the things I did, but it’s pointless to continue the way I was with people like him out there.” Mogami turned to the barrier again. “Maybe I should be exorcised. It’s what he and you were originally told to do by that rich idiot.”

Matsuo reached out, grabbing Mogami again, this time physically, a hand holding onto the spirit’s jacket. “Wait. Why not stay with me?”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” Mogami repeated. “There’s no telling how I’ll act.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done either,” Matsuo argued, holding tighter though Mogami hadn’t moved. “But just because we’ve got our burdens to carry doesn’t mean we have to do it alone.”

Mogami’s empty sockets stared into Matsuo’s own determined gaze, shifting subtly to take in his scar, his hair, his clothes. Then back to his face before Mogami let out a sigh, sinking closer to the esper’s level.  “This means the jar again?”

“No… no I think I trust you to stay out.”

“You just want to talk my ear off about your new sports rules.”

Matsuo laughed. “It would be nice if you talked back.” He started to walk, away from the barrier and the edge of the city, towards his, their apartment.

“I always talked back. Your jar just wouldn’t let you hear.” Mogami was following close beside Matsuo, equals in starting a new chapter in both their lives.

[my-analogical-heart]

I Think I’m Gone

Virgil was tired of waiting. A week had already passed since Patton went out and there still wasn’t any sign of him. Jules refused to look and Neil wouldn’t undermine anything he said. Not even Cameron, who barely listened to anything anyone said, would go.

“Listen, V.” He wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, leaning in and fanning his perpetual booze-soaked breath all over him. “This ain’t got shit to do with me. Patton is a good kid, but I’m not risking my neck for him.”

Virgil ducked under Cameron’s arm and crossed his arms. “And how many times has he risked his for yours?” Virgil shot back.

“Eh, well,” Cameron shrugged. “That was his choice.”

“If Patton had a choice, he wouldn’t even be here picking up the slack dumbass adults like you who can’t even manage.”

Logan snickered at Cameron’s expression as they turned away. “What are you gonna— Hey!” Cameron grabbed a fistful of Logan’s hair and pulled him back. Virgil crossed his arms and watched revulsion, disgust, and anger chase each other across Logan’s features. Getting a rise out of Logan was difficult since he had such a laid-back-sarcastic-devil-may-care attitude, but he abhorred being touch. Be it his actual skin or something on his person, it moved him to violence.

Logan threw his head back, head-butting Cameron’s chin and forcing him to release his hold on Logan. He threw her elbow into Cameron’s solar plexus before kicking him.

“Touch me again and next time it’s your throat.” He took a deep breath, slowly relaxing his tense stance. “Look, whatever beef you have with V has nothing to do with me. It obviously has something more to do with what just happened, but leave me out of it and take it up with the offender.”

Logan was right that Virgil and Cameron had beef before this. Cam hated the way Virgil just sort of blended into to his new status and surroundings without blinking an eye when he, a grown man, couldn’t do it without too many beers and many more cigars.

“You’ve certainly gotten more violent,” Virgil said as they walked away, this time unbothered.

“I’ve always been violent—just in spades. Being here makes me feel like I have to be or else something might happen to me. Anyway, back to my question before Cam the Idiot cut me off: what are you gonna do about Cass?”

Virgil’s mood soured even more. “I’ll go look for him tonight. Nothing to get me in trouble, just a quick look around by Hit the Mark.”

He wrung his fingers together, shoulders hunching in as he asked, “Can I go with you?”

Virgil gave him a sideways glance. Logan looked like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Why are you asking when you never have before?”

“Well, this seems kind of personal whereas everything else was just work. It’s polite to ask.”

“Shoot first ask later.” They left the common area behind, going into one of the many halls housing rooms for the less fortunate—the only real service the casino offered. “It’s fine if you come with me. Nothing should happen anyway.” Yet, even as Virgil said that he couldn’t help but feel something had happened. That maybe, just maybe, Patton wouldn’t be coming back.

Virgil shook his head, shooing the thought away. Patton was good at what he did. Get in, take the tiara, get out—there’s no way Patton wouldn’t be able to do that. “Come by my room at midnight. Right now, I want to be alone.”

“Right. I have been attached to you since I got here.” Logan nodded as he went down the hallway, disappearing into the last door.

Virgil almost regretted sending Logan away as he fell onto his bed. He was used to having Patton’s constant company with brief breaks between. Having Logan around was nice, but his presence was much calmer than Patton. Virgil would have much rather been around him in spades then twenty-four-seven. Shame there was no one else willing to train Logan so Virgil could take a break from him.

“I miss you, Patton,” Virgil mumbled as he drifted off into sleep. It didn’t feel like long before he heard soft footsteps approaching his door.

Virgil opened his eyes as Logan knocked on his door. “Are you awake?”

“Just barely,” Virgil mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Just wait a moment.” Virgil rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretching and groping for his knives. Out of habit and comfort, they were the first things he went for when waking up. He could never know when he would need them. Hiding them expertly on his person, Virgil opened the door and pulled Logan in. “We’re not actually supposed to go out at night without permission—we could slip out and never come back. But we just have to be back before the casino closes and we’ll be fine. Probably.”

“So, we have three hours. Um, how are we getting out?”

Virgil pointed. “The window, of course.”

Logan edged over and peeked down to the ground. “How are we getting down from here?”

“Luck and skill.” Virgil opened the window and leaned out, pressing against the frame so Logan could see. “Look, there’s a ladder right there, from that fire escape. You’ll have to jump. Below that is a dumpster—a four-foot drop you should be able to make. If not, that’s on you.”

“Love your faith.�� Logan pulled back and gestured forward. “Lead the way.”

“Make sure you close the window when you get out.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just leave it open then. Follow me and try not to make too much noise.”

“Who’s going to hear us over the casino?” Logan asked as Virgil hopped onto the windowsill and dived out the window. The wind raced around him as he wrapped his hands around the ladder. After many trials and errors, he knew how much force to put into his jump so as not to face plant into the ladder.

Virgil dropped down the ladder then onto the dumpster. Logan was still leaning out the window, watching. “Get a move on.”

“What if I break my nose?”

“Like I said, that’s on you.”

He warily looked over the distance between the window and ladder, backed up, then jumped. He let out a small squeal as he almost fell short and banged against the ladder. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this,” he gasped. “Can I just— Can I just stay here?”

“Would you like to dangle for three hours? Just let go of the ladder.”

“Pretty sure I bruised my knees and one of them is bleeding. In short, my legs really frigging hurt.”

“My soul hurts. Let go or I’ll leave you.” Logan looked ready to close his eyes but kept them open as he dropped onto the dumpster. his legs buckled beneath the sudden weight and caved. Tripping, he toppled from the lid and into my arms.

“Jeez.” He puffed his hair from his face. “You’re deceptively strong for someone so scrawny.”

“You’re scrawny. And you weigh as much as a stop sign.” Virgil let him down and started forward, keeping an eye out for the callers.

“I have a high metabolism.” He said.

Just like Patton, Virgil thought. “Keep up with me and look inconspicuous.” Making it past the callers was the hard part, which is to say, making it to Hit the Mark was easy. They’d never seen Logan before (he liked to prowl the halls of the casino, making sarcastic quips about the people he saw and hated the cold) and if Virgil kept his head down he wouldn’t be recognized. From there they hustled through the crowds of people flocking to buildings to spend money and try their luck.

“How far away is this other casino?” Logan asked once the crowd had thinned. In between casino was always less crowded and loud.

“Give us ten minutes and—” Virgil stopped short then backtracked. The alley was nondescript and easy enough to look past and the smell from the trash cans made it easier to avoid. But Virgil didn’t care about the alley. His eyes were on the person lying face down, blood pooling around their still body.

“Uh, V? What are you—?”

“Stay here and don’t move.” Virgil started forward, panic swelling in his chest, trying not to let it overwhelm him. “Do you remember the way to the casino?”

“More or less. Why— What is happening?” Virgil could hear the worry building in his voice and could see the beginnings of stiffness in his posture as he tried to see what Virgil saw, like a spring coil being wound. But Virgil ignored him, creeping forward, the ball of panic getting bigger and bigger with each step.

The panic swelled and burst as Virgil looked at Patton’s bruised profile. His cheek had been cut and his breathing was choked and labored as Virgil rolled him onto his back.

Despite the scene, Virgil found his wits, checking for a pulse and calling out: “Logan! Go back to the casino and ask for someone who can tend to gun wounds.” There were too many times when Virgil had come across someone dead or dying to let this get the better of him. Even when—even when that someone was the one person he cared about most.

Logan stood, frozen against the background of the busy street, clutching his shirt for dear life. “Logan. He will die if you don’t move. Go.” He jerked into action, sprinting down the street.

Virgil moved Patton’s head into his lap, softly calling his name. “Wake up, Patton. Please wake up.”

Patton stirred and coughed, eyes fluttering and breath stuttering. Virgil made a sound—half sigh, half sob. “Thank God you’re awake.”

“V? Why are you here?” Patton tried to move then winced, hand hovering close to his side.

“That doesn’t matter, just stay awake for me, Patton. Stay awake.”

“But I’m so tired. I can’t…” He trailed off, his words slurring.

Panic started to rise again and Virgil shook him, trying to keep his eyes open. “Focus on me, Patton. I think you need stitches and you’ll be okay.” Virgil grasped at anything in his muddled mind that would grab Patton’s attention. What would keep his focused? “You had something to tell me. What was it? Keep your eyes on me.”

“What I wanted to say… It was important.” His breathing evened out as his eyes focused on something beyond Virgil. Virgil’s heart starting pounding as a minute ticked by without any movement, then Patton gasped as he said, “I love you.”

Virgil’s heart stuttered. “What?”

“You were always so hot and cold with your temper.” Patton closed his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips. “I could never understand what you were feeling so I thought if I could do something like this, maybe I could say this too.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Virgil murmured. “I love you, Patton. I’ve always loved you.” Patton’s head cradled in Virgil’s lap, he lowered his forehead to Patton’s, a roaring ache in his chest. What Virgil felt for Patton was something fiercer that ordinary love. It was built on the foundation that they were both doing whatever it took to survive and they were willing to sacrifice whatever means to ensure the safety of the other. It was strong and needy and reliant and steadfast.

And now that Virgil could name it, that he could realize what he felt, Patton might not even survive.

“V,” Logan whispered. Virgil kept his head down, already knowing what Logan was going to say. Already knowing no one came back with him. He sniffed, his voice thick with tears. “V, they aren’t coming. He said…he said if Patton died then his debt would be repaid. I-I’m sorry, V. I’m so sorry.”

“V,” Patton murmured. “V, can you do me a favor?”

Virgil almost choked on his words as he said, “Anything.”

“Get out. Promise me you’ll get out.”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Patton die. Not wanting to see the life leave him. “Please don’t talk like that. Please don’t talk like you’re going to die. I can’t— I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” Patton smiled. “I won’t. I can’t feel it anyway. I feel…tired.”

“Then sleep,” Virgil said. “Sleep and dream of something better. Something complete.”

“I can do that, I think.”

And so they sat in the alley as Virgil cried and waited for Patton’s heartbeat to fade. As Virgil pleaded and begged with any god to save him. To please save the one person who believed Virgil was more than a street rat. Who believed Virgil could be more than just a kid with nothing more half a name and a birthplace to go on.

As Logan stood at the edge of the alley, silently crying for a boy he’d never met. As he held himself so as not to run away. As he bowed his head to mourn.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil whispered when Patton’s breathing had long since faded and his body had stilled for good. “Do you remember that day we first met? That day when it rained so hard and so long. I never told you, but I almost wished we’d never met. Maybe then I’d never have fallen for you.”

Virgil lowered Patton’s head to the ground, joints jerking and popping as he stood. “Call the police, Logan. Get them here somehow. He needs…he needs proper care now.”

Logan pressed his hands to his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Virgil’s legs felt wobbly and numb. How he was going to do anything, he didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t care.

“I’ll come with you—”

“No. I can’t— I don’t want—” Virgil took a deep breath although it only served to make him lightheaded and dizzy. “Go back and-and stay.”

“But I—”

“Logan, please. I just want to be left alone.”

Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes as he drew himself up and let out a scream. Virgil slipped by as people turned to see why he yelled. He put on a performance of falling down and pointing. But Virgil supposed maybe he really was afraid. Until a month ago, he’d never even seen a dead or dying body outside of a TV screen.

The numbness was fading, replacing it with a sharp, raging pain, taking root in his chest and spreading throughout his body and the only thing he wanted to get away. Away from Patton’s death, away from this pain, away from the thoughts swirling around him.

What reason would Virgil have for staying now that Patton was gone? What reason did he have for anything now that Patton’s was gone? What was he supposed to do now that the one person who understood him, who knew what it was like to be in that hellhole of a place with no escape, was gone? Was he to think of a plan to escape? He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t want to think about anything.

So he didn’t. He didn’t look back or give another thought. The cold air whipping around him and the lights blurring, Virgil did what he did best: he ran.

[inaheartbeat-phff]

Chapter 9

Monday, January 12th, 8:00am Princess Arabella's Suite, Huis ten Bosch Palace, The Hague

Arabella sat at the head of her dining room table, nibbling on a toast, reading the morning paper while Harry sat on her left eating his pancakes. They were both ready for the Parade that is starting at ten that morning. Prince Harry and Princess Arabella will have their first public appearance since their engagement that was announced right now.

(Author’s side note: Just imagine her skirt is longer until just before her knees.)

They both were enjoying the quiet morning eating their breakfast before there were three knocks on the door. Arabella sighed before folding her paper and wiped her lips and Harry drank his tea.

"Good Morning Your Royal Highness', these came for you this morning Ma'am. Ms Jane and Mr Fox are also here ma'am, sir." Pieter bowed his head and announced their private secretaries who came in behind him and stood by the sides. Then eleven men in suits came in the room holding a tray with tiara's sat on top of them. Harry sat there jaws open as he stared at the people in surprise. Arabella just sat there drinking her tea.

"Are these the tiaras I got for my birthday?" Arabella asked Pieter. He nodded his head before adding, "As well as tiaras you got as an engagement present ma'am."

"Please proceed." Arabella said knowing that every year for her birthday she got some jewelleries and sometimes tiaras from her godparents.

"The Blue Sapphire Flower set from His Majesty King Willem-Alexander." Pieter announced and a man on the front of the line brought forward the tray with the tiara and matching earrings.

"Ruby Star jewellery set from Her Majesty Queen Maxima."

"The Bella tiara from Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

"The Enchanted Pearl tiara from His Royal Highness The Grand Duke of Luxembourg."

"The Sapphire Teardrop jewellery set from Her Royal Highness The Grand Duchess of Luxembourg."

"The Rose Tiara from His Majesty King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden."

"The Pearl and Crystal tiara from His Majesty King Phillipe of Belgium."

"The Golden Forrest tiara from Her Majesty Queen Margrethe II of Denmark."

"The Blue Fairy tiara from His Serene Highness The Prince of Liechtenstein."

"The Golden Dragonfly Tiara from His Serene Highness The Sovereign Prince of Monaco."

"The Rose Bandeau Tiara from His Majesty King Herold V of Norway."

"The Elisa head piece tiara from His Majesty King Felipe VI of Spain."

"And Lastly as an engagement present from Their Majesties King Willem-Alexander and Queen Elizabeth II, The Blue Crystal Cluster tiara."

"Jane, will you please send the official thank you notes to the Kings and Queens for the tiaras and update the royal vault account about the history and from where the tiaras originated. Pieter please inform Sara and Anna about these tiaras and put them in the Vault thank you." With a nod, Arabella sipped her tea as Pieter proceeded to leave the room together with the jewelleries leaving Ed and Jane by the wall.

Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed.  He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen that many tiaras in one place and openly. He remembered his mother had a few collection but not that much. Arabella just got eleven new tiaras just by getting engaged and turning thirty. Harry knew that Kate had inherited his mother’s tiara through Will by default and when he and Arabella marry, she will inherit some too but Harry doesn’t think that Arabella will need them as she will have her own sets clearly from just now as well as her own family jewels.

"What just happened?" Harry thought aloud, he was still in shock of what had occurred a few minutes ago.

"It is customary that Princess Arabella receive a few jewellery or tiaras for her engagement. It was a sign of respect that every monarch in Europe especially sent some form of jewellery to mark the Princess's engagement. It is also an understanding and a sign of treaty amongst the current European monarchy with a future monarch." Jane quickly stood forward and explained to Harry simply. There was more to that of course. Arabella is close to most if not all of Europe's reigning monarch therefore most of them sent her tiara's. However, other heirs during their engagement got pieces of jewelleries such as brooches, watches, jewellery sets. Not as grand as Arabella. Then again, she calls most if not all of the reigning monarchs aunts and uncles.

"Please sit down, Jane and Ed. We have much to discuss this morning before the parade." Arabella said as a request but they knew that underneath, it was more like an order.

Ed tried to shake his head, getting briefed earlier about the etiquette towards the princess, but when he looked to his left, he saw Jane shook her head lightly before sitting down one seat below the princess on her right side. The protocols were so much different than to their British ones. He was sure that he didn’t act this way towards Prince William and even calls prince Harry, Harry sometimes. He knew that when at home, he usually don’t bother Prince Charles so he doesn’t know how to act around the heir of the throne. Ed then pulled the seat next to Jane and sat down.

"The announcement were live ten minutes ago and so far the response have been positive. Many would like to see the Prince by your side in public more often." Jane started off, she had her tablet in front of her with information open and her notes easy to access.

"That's wonderful news." Arabella said before calling the footman forward. "Call Miss Sara or Anna, whichever is not occupied with the gifts and tell her to come here please and bring my notebook with her as well. Thank you."

"Prince Harry's office staff will still reside at St. James Palace and will communicate here for the time being. They will then move to Noordeinde Palace in March after your royal tour in the UK is done." Ed said next, ticking it off the list.

"Yes, in the meantime, Harry will use my staff  while he is here to work on any projects. The staff members that he doesn’t have will have to use mine from now on until further notice." Arabella added on.

"What exactly does that mean?" Harry asked, before they could move on to the next topic. Harry knew that he can always ask questions if he was confused and doesn’t understand. Arabella is trying to ease him into this life and makes sure he understands it all.

"Staff such as press secretary, lawyer, and doctor are those you share with Will and Kate. Now that you are engaged to me, you are no longer their employer and you will use mine from now on." Arabella tried to explain.

"Today's parade will start at Binnenhof, where you will meet the Prime Minister as well as the parliament, meet the crowds and will be on an open topped car that will take you to Noordeinde Palace. There will be a soldier's march and a marching band that will lead you to Noordeinde. The parade will take a few hours as half way through, the both of you will have to walk and talk to the people. King Willem-Alexander, Queen Maxima and former Queen Beatrix will meet you at Noordeinde for Lunch. Lunch is a public affair so there will be photographers present. After lunch, you both have meetings to discuss and pick wedding planners and things related to the wedding." Jane told the pair.

"Is that all?" Arabella asked as she finished her tea.

"Yes Ma'am. Your car is waiting for you downstairs to take you to Binnenhof." Ed said as both he and Jane stood up and bowed to Arabella and Harry before leaving the room.

"Are you ready for today?" She asked her fiancé, looking at him with loving eyes.

"I think so."

"It will be much different now that everybody knows you're my fiancé."

"I know, but I'm ready." Harry kissed her knuckles before standing up and pulling Arabella up to go downstairs and into the cars.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Harry and Arabella arrived at Binnenhof to a thundering screams. There was a lot of people present and Harry could clearly tell that Arabella is loved by her people. There was an open top vehicle ready infront for the steps of Binnenhof. The car stopped a few meters away from the car and Harry went out of the car first. With a wave, he went over to Arabella’s side and helped her down the car. When she stepped out of the car, the crowds grew wild and she waved at them making them screaming even louder.

The couple held hands before moving towards the crowds by the barricades to greet them.

“Congratulations on the Engagement princess Arabella!” An elder woman said as she handed Arabella a bouquet of roses.

“Thank you so much!” Arabella smiles at the woman, shaking her hands.

Arabella and Harry went down the barricades and shook people’s hands. All of them either wishing Arabella a happy birthday or congratulating them on their engagement. They reached the point where their car is next to them so they waved to the rest of the crowds before moving to the car. Harry climbed in first before helping Arabella up and into the car.

“You okay?” Arabella asked Harry holding his hands in hers.

“Yeah. The people clearly love you.” He said smiling at her.

“I try to be as relatable as I can even though I am a royal and is privaledged. That’s why I try to have a lot of charities to help out.” She said shrugging her shoulders.

“You are amazing, you know that right?” Harry said before leaving to kiss her cheeks lightly. The crowds saw that and cheered very loudly.

Laughing they both turned to the crowds of people waiting to see them and waved.

On their way to Noordeinde Palace, the engaged couple could see signs wishing Arabella a Happy birthday as well as some UK Flags mixed with the Netherlands Flags.

“You know this will be somewhat like our wedding but instead of a car we will be in a glass carriage my father used and in Amsterdam. There will be soldiers marching and a marching band. There’s more that will happen I just can’t remember what.” Arabella told Harry.

“As long as I get to be your husband, I’m okay.” Harry said cheekily to Arabella which earned him a slap on his arm.

“Stop abusing me woman!” Harry laughed. “I’m trying to be loving but I got slapped instead. Sheesh woman.”

Shaking her head, Arabella just laughed and laid her head on his shoulders. Unknown to the couple, this private moment was captured by the press and sold to every magazine cover in the world with headlines such as: "PRINCE HARRY AND PRINCESS ARABELLA SHOWS PDA" "PRINCE HARRY CHANGING UP THE ROYAL GAME" "PRINCESS ARABELLA PREPARES PRINCE HARRY FOR PUBLIC DO'S AND DON'TS".

Arriving at the half point mark, they got out of the car with Harry helping Arabella and waved to the crowds once more. The marching band, where students from all over the country were selected to play on the parade, started up the march with the couple walking behind them.

Harry waved at the people and mouthed hellos to them, trying to get eye-contact to some of them to show that 'yes, I noticed you'. Arabella smiled at the people and made faces at the babies that were carried on their parents shoulders.

When Harry noticed a sign that said, "Prince Harry, forget Arabella, Marry me instead."  Harry laughed at that one before nudging Arabella and pointed to the sign. Arabella read it and laughed out loud, throwing her head backwards. Harry smiled at the sight before looking at the person who's holding out the sign. He then smiled before shrugging and mouth sorry before turning back to Arabella. The girls holding the signs squealed as they got noticed and awed at the love that can be seen in Harry's eyes when he looked at Arabella.

Arabella and Harry walked towards Noordeinde Palace, sometimes going to the side to say hello to the people and play with the kids. The pair would also sometimes dance while they walked and had a lot of fun on the parade.

When they arrived at Noordeinde Palace, Arabella's parents, King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima was there accompanied by Princess Beatrix, the Prime Minister as well as Arabella's three younger sisters. Stopping in front of them, Arabella gave a deep curtsy while Harry bowed his head. When Arabella stood straight again, she went forwards to kiss her father on the cheeks before moving on to Queen Maxima. Harry then followed suit and greeted the king with a handshake and a kiss to the cheeks. This gave a public stamp of approval for the royal couple and they moved inside to the dining room after giving the crowds another wave.

"Come lets go to the dining room and have lunch. I’m sure you’re both famished.” Queen Maxima said to her daughter and future son in law ushering them into the dining room where around two photographers were waiting.

Since this is considered an official event, the press are allowed in and take photos to sell to the highest bidder. It’s a give and take scenario, the press respects the royal family and in turn the royal family gives the press something so they can do their jobs.

During lunch, they all shared a few jokes and laughed a few times. With the PM asking Arabella on her plans for the year, this time more constructed and more formal than their lunch the week before, King Willem-Alexander asked about their newly engaged title and how they felt with everything. With the press taking pictures and taking note what was happening in the room, they all knew to keep the conversations light and to not reveal anything that might endanger their safety.

At the end of lunch, the press invited were very happy as they got pictures and moments where Prince Harry was being affectionate with Princess Arabella as well as the relationship between the King and the Prince. It showed very good behaviour on Harry’s part as well as a polite and dignified young man that is capable of being a future King. This was approved by the public when they saw how he was interacting with the prime minister and Princess Beatrix. He was respectful and polite, answering all the questions they had for him yet he was also being his charming and funny self.

After lunch, the group went to the balcony to watch the flyover that the airforce have dedicated for Arabella and you can tell that Harry is amazed. During Trooping of the Colour, Harry is always either beside (when he was still single) or behind William. He was never front and center and that was where Harry was for this flyover. With King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima at the center, Princess Beatrix was next to Maxima and the PM next to her while Arabella was next to King Willem-Alexander and Harry next to her. He was also not used to the minimal amount of people on the balcony looking over the crowds and the flyover. He was used to having a big family and have everyone crowded in that balcony to watch the jets.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry and Arabella, after the flyover, waved one final time to the crowds before going indoors and into Arabella’s offices in the East Wing of the Palace and that’s where Harry’s will be as well. Right now, they have a meeting with their team to prepare them, mostly Harry about the press conference, interview session and photo opportunity happening on Wednesday.

Adam, acting as both Arabella’s and Harry’s press secretary is leading the meeting with Arabella’s media relations team, now also acting as Harry’s.

“Good Afternoon Your Royal Highness’, this meeting will mainly be a refresher course of protocol and ways to act during the press conference on Wednesday. This is mainly for you sir.” Adam started off.

“Just be grateful that you’re not doing this alone and that it’s not an etiquette class. Gosh madam Sü is a pain in my backside.” Arabella mumbled to Harry’s ear.

“The conference will be conducted at Noordeinde Palace, as it is known as a working palace. It will be held in the east wing, where the Princess of Orange's offices are located. The doors open to press at nine in the morning so they will be able to set up their equipment's and get questions ready. Most questions are being sent over first so we can comb through it and take out unwanted questions, but there will still be questions that is difficult to answer on the day itself." Arabella's communications secretary, Aleta said. "Pieter will announce your entrance as 'Her Royal Highness The Princess of Orange and her fiance, His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales.' Princess Arabella will enter the room first. She will then be the first to sit down and everyone else will follow suit."

"It is important that Princess Arabella will open the panel and questions will start coming in. Avoid answering the questions in detail but avoid being too vague. We do want some substance for the interview that will be conducted right after the press conference." Her advisor, Gerrit mentioned.

Harry now realise what an important deal this is for them, for Arabella to be announced first, for her to open the conference and for her to end it as well. She is the future monarch after all and it has to be seen that she is in command of the whole thing.

"There are no rules of affections here so feel free to do so if you please. We want to make this conference as natural as possible. Unlike the British, we like to be as transparent with the press as much as we can afford to so they will be more respectful towards us. After the incident with Queen Maxima, there is an understanding between the press and the royal family." Jane piped up.

"As for the interview, it will be done by the BBC, as per your traditions, inside the drawing room at centre court. Your interviewer will be Mishal Husain from the BBC and it will air later that night at eight local time, seven in the UK. The photoshoot will be taken by Tatiana, Her Highness' official photographer and will take place all over the palace." Hans, the deputy communications secretary said.

"Three official engagement photographs will be released that night right after the interview by the Dutch royal family's official twitter account as well as Kensington Palace twitter account. They will be released simultaneously." Adam said before continuing, "As for the state dinner on Thursday night, Prince Harry is only required to bow to reigning monarchs now that he is engaged to Princess Arabella. It is crucial that you do not and I repeat do not bow to anyone other than Kings and Queens. Countries that are invited to attend are, Belgium, Denmark, Principality of Liechtenstein, Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, Principality of Monaco, Norway, Spain, Sweden, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Brunei, Japan, Jordan, Lesotho, the United States and Canada. It is crucial that we remain an ally to these countries.”

“Guests and dignitaries will arrive at half past seven. King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima will arrive at quarter to eight and Princess Arabella and Prince Harry will arrive last at eight sharp. The state dinner will be at Noordeinde Palace. They will introduce the Princess of Orange first before introducing Prince Henry of Wales and will enter the room together.” Gerrit said. “The King and Queen will sit down first followed by the Princess of Orange and Prince Harry and all the other guests will follow suit.”

“Okay I think we’re done for the day.” Arabella clapped her hands standing up, making the rest of the room stand up as well. “It’s been a long day and I would like go home and spend alone time with my fiancé thank you very much.” With a wave, Arabella left the room with Harry following

“Well that wasn’t so bad.” Harry said next to her walking to the entrance so they can head back to Huis ten Bosch palace.

“Actually I think that was a meeting more than a protocol lesson.” Arabella thought out loud. “Anyways, what do you want to do tonight?”

“Should we order in and watch a movie?”

“Hm, I’ll have Jane to order Chinese and maybe we can watch Suits.” Arabella smiled up to Harry.

“Yes to the Chinese and Suits? Really? That’s not a movie.” Harry laughed.

“Yes suits. I feel like watching that tonight. Just to relax.”

“Fine. Better call Jane now for the Chinese. God knows what they need to do before the food comes to you.” Harry said pulling her to the door and into the car. “Let’s go home.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~

“Okay so the Chinese food arrived ten minutes ago and its being processed right now, did you put on the tv?” Harry asked walking into the living room where Arabella is currently at.

“Yeah, it’s ready.” Arabella stood up and went to the couch where the blankets are laid out and Harry now sat. She climbed on the sofa and cuddled into Harry before pressing play on the remote, starting the episode. Halfway through, the Chinese arrived being brought out by Pieter and when the show ended the pair was hooked.

“I think if you never met me, you would be with her.” Arabella said pointing to the screen where Rachel, played by Meghan Markle froze. “Maybe even get married and have a nice small intimate wedding at St. George Chapel.

“Hm, maybe. But I’m with you and I’m having a big televised and overly glamourous wedding with you in Amsterdam. I’ll take you over her anyday.” Harry said before kissing her.

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” Arabella looked up at Hary with a small smirk.

“You little..” Harry picked her up and Arabella laughed making Harry smile.

Next Chapter 

[mbalenhles-blog]

SOFIA MBALENHLE KREUTZWALD, princess of estonia.

“ there are all these moments you think you won’t survive. and then you survive. ”

I. BASICS –––  

full name: sofia mbalenhle kreutzwald.

sofia: from the greek, Σοφια, means “wisdom”.

mbalenhle: from zulu, imbali, for “flower”, and hle, for “beautiful”.

date of birth: october 12th, 1814.

age: thirty-one.

city of birth: tallinn. she always loved her home, or perhaps it has always been thanks to her parents, who she loved and learned a lot from.

country of birth: estonia.

position: princess of estonia, duchess of glücksbierg (in denmark).

marital status: widow.

sexuality: demisexual.

gender identity: cisgender female.

religion: catholic. a believer, but rarely a praticant.

II. RELATIONSHIPS –––

number of siblings: five.

order of birth: first born, the oldest.

father: taveet kreutzwald, late king of estonia. relationship: her best friend — sofia isn’t afraid to admit that was her father to her. the man who had taught her so much and made her who she is, gave her glimpses of what was like to rule a kingdom even if he knew she wasn’t the one meant to take the crown. although the man would say he had no favorite child, anyone could see how he was closer to his two oldest: they were the ones to spend more time with him, watch him work and dare to make suggestions, help in his choices. he is, even in death, sofia’s safe haven.

mother: zola kreutzwald, late queen of estonia, former princess of swaziland. relationship: although closer to her father, she would never say she didn’t love or wasn’t fond of her mother — zola was just as inspiring as her husband for little sofia. she was the one who made her grow fond of reading and drawing, to have a brain of her own; she taught her how to be graceful and held her whenever she cried — especially in the day of her marriage and the last time she saw both her parents. she misses her dearly, and keeps a necklace that was owned by the woman with her at all times.

relationship with siblings: being the oldest has turned her into one of the most responsible ones among them. although with her head in the clouds and nose stuck in a book through most of her youth, she has shown to be one of the siblings that sees reality differently, with kind eyes and a good moral compass. the relationship to each sibling needs to be determined as applied.

former partner: gerhard thorn, duke of glücksbierg. marriage: april 1839 to december 1844. relationship: ( SEXUAL ABUSE TW! ) their marriage was a proposition that came from the duke himself in one of his trips to estonia — back then, the king had thought this would be a good idea, as if the story repeats itself: it was travelling that he met his wife, fallen for her beauty and intelligence, and he had thought this was gerhard’s case towards sofia. he was wrong. the duke was a narcissist, a careless man who barely cared for anything but benefiting himself — it is true he has “fallen” for the princess’ beauty, but she was far too smart for him, she wasn’t impressed by his looks or by him at all, different from the many women he had been with until then. she was a challenge, a prey that he would get and feel glad to have in his hands, wanting her or not — those harder to get were the best, after all. she has never complained ( much ) about the man to her father before the marriage, but he was no fool and had seem how scared and disgusted she looked after every meeting with the man — he had suggested to call it out, but at the age of twenty-five, she judged herself old. it was out of luck a man felt interested in her, even if it was only for her physical, in her opinion — she should continue with that, for the benefits of their own small kingdom. a child came out of their union, forceful, with marks that would take a while to fade from her golden skin — she thought it would be a challenge to love her son, that memories from the nights that haunted her mind would come across every time she looked at him: and it was, at first. for the first months, sofia wouldn’t want to see the baby and felt disgusted of herself, but it was in a moment she was alone with the baby and she saw her own curious eyes on him that she fell in love: hendrik, she had decided, would be the only thing that mattered to her. her marriage, unhappy and abusive, remained for the following years and some would be the times her husband would manage to get to her room and she would accept have him there, just for the sake of it — but he had his mistress, who were much better than her ( luckily ), and with the time he would grow tired of her company in bed, although never once letting go of the idea to expose her as his trophy wife. his death came suddenly, but with a lot of relief to sofia — more than she should’ve let it show, which brings questions to anyone who has known either her or gerhard, or both, doubts of his death, so sudden and not of plague, looking very much like an ordered murder.

children:

hendrik sipho thorn, born in february 15th, 1840 (six year old). his hair and big curious eyes give him away as sofia’s son — but he is far from looking like her, with his skin being lighter and some small features showing some of his father’s. hendrik is a smart danish boy — he has been learning more languages since he learned how to talk, always taught by his mother; he doesn’t have as much accent as she does when speaking other languages, being a fast learner, catching things just by hearing them. he’s agitated, always needing to be moving and going somewhere; and one of his passions seems to be animals, probably something that could be blamed on sofia and her choices of reading to him.

III. PHYSICAL –––

height: 162cm, 5ft 4in

weight: 54kg, 119lbs

eye color: brown.

hair color: brown.

natural hair texture: curly, thin.

body build: slim, slightly curvy.

prominent features: a mole next to her upper lip, on the right side; a scar on her left ankle ( thanks to childish plays and running around, tripping and twisting said ankle in a small rock ).

accent: she sounds most fluent in estonian and danish, being the languages she has practice more during her whole life, with the kind of alliances her father had. but in english and french, which are the languages she tries to keep up nowadays, she has an obvious accent, but still easy to understand. she is fond of learning languages, so her practice usually go until she doesn’t sound as much of a foreigner as she is.

speech: even insecure, sofia is one to speak with the most certain kind of tone, very rare to stutter, and usually sounding like someone who knows better. for some, she may sound as a mother or a scholar, which would be compliments to her. her vocabulary is quite extensive in any of the languages she speaks and that’s noticeable just by talking to her a few times.

general health: in good health and trying to keep herself this way, she has been rarely engaging in anything that might get her sick or hurt. she only puts herself on this sort of priority for worrying for her child — if she gets sick, chances of him getting too would be considerable.

IV. PERSONALITY –––

habits: tapping her fingers on any surface, being too observant, acting as a “mom friend”, chewing the inside of her cheek when nervous, rubbing her arm.

hobbies: reading, collecting books, drawing, learning, tasting different cuisines, taking walks in the garden, being alone, writing.

morning routine: she usually wakes up very early, able to see the first rays of sunshine to appear in the sky; most of the times, she likes to take her time waking up her son so they can have breakfast together. it isn’t unusual to see her walking around the gardens either, as she judges the morning sun to be the best and most enjoyable, along with its breeze.

nightly routine: to read and kiss her son goodnight is probably the only thing that happens every single night. sofia deals with the darkness of the night in different ways, most of them being by lighting a candle and reading a book on her own, or writing something — when she feels too lonely, she reads her father’s old letters and see old sketches in her journals. sometimes, she would dare to leave her quarters, take a walk to spare her thoughts and to go to the library, either to get other books or to watch the night sky through its windows ( a better view than the one she has from her own room ).

skills: drawing, she’s good at sketches, but is far too insecure about it to even show many people; is a fast learner, people don’t need to explain anything twice before she is already knowing how to do things.

V. SIGNATURES –––

theme song: “saturn”, sleeping at last.

strengths: intelligence, optimism, responsibility.

weaknesses: stubbornness, prejudice, impatience.

what would be in their trunk?: books, an old journal she likes to write or sketch sometimes, hendrik’s blanket, her father’s letters.

character’s inspirations: tessa gray ( the infernal devices, by cassandra clare ), belle ( beauty and the beast, the tale by madame de beaumont, and the animation movie, adapted by linda woolverton ).

[snickerl]

Blutendes Herz  V

XF fanfiction

Blutendes Herz (Bleeding Heart) is not really a consecutive story but the chapters build upon one another somehow.

Part I can be read here, part II here. Here you will get to part III, and part IV can be found here.

Author's Note: This installment begins exactly like part IV but features an alternative ending which is supposed to soothe the heartache shippers might have suffered from reading the other one. Closure B takes off at the point where Mark asks Scully what her friendship to Mulder really consists of. You can either re-read the first part or jump right into the flow below the cut.

You're sitting on the couch together with your favorite human being. She's pouring you a third cup of tea.

"Thanks for bringing me my favorite tea, Mulder, but you don't have to find excuses every time you come here. Next time, just give me a call when you're in the area and drop by without any of these stupid pretenses."

You scratch the Mexican blanket, the Casablanca DVD, and the funny little porcelain fox she once bought at a garage sale off your mental list. "I hate coming with empty hands, Scully," you reply, not telling her that deep down you're afraid that just you alone is not enough to make your visit worthwhile. That's why you always bring her something she'd left at the house when she moved out.

Just when you started to relax a little, you hear a distinct knock at the door. Your pulse instantly accelerates because of the foreboding sound, whereas she seems to be a picture of calm. "Sounds like Mark. What does he want? When has it become out of style for a man to give a woman a chance to dress properly and freshen up her makeup before he shows up at her doorstep?" she whines, tying her robe tighter. She combs through her hair and rubs her cheeks. You want to tell her that she looks perfect the way she is, that she doesn't need makeup or perfectly styled hair to be beautiful, but you only give her a short, apologetic shrug and sink deeper into the couch cushions, wondering what excuse he might have to drop by at her place just like that.

"Sorry for coming unannounced, my love, but I missed you so much and a man can only wait so long. Impossibly another whole day."

Alright, no pretenses from his side. He's painfully frank about why he's here and his open infatuation is like a cold fist squeezing your heart.

Before Scully is able to reply something, he licks the words off her tongue with a juicy kiss. He shoves her backward into the living-room, his lips glued to hers, maneuvering her to the couch you're sitting on. He obviously plans to engage her in a veritable makeout session, maybe even more, because he clearly wants to plant her flat out on the comfortable piece of furniture. Unfortunately, your long legs are in the way. You try to pull your feet back, but there's not enough space, so you can't prevent him from stumbling over them.

"What the..." he hisses. It takes him a moment to assess what has just happened, but then his facial features morph from utter surprise into boundless fury in a matter of nanoseconds. "You? What the hell are you doing here?" he bellows at you, clearly not pleased at all to see you.

As there is no real justification for you to be here other than that you, like him, simply wanted to see her, and you doubt he would be amused by this one, all you can come up with is the same excuse you gave her earlier.

"I brought Scully a box of tea she forgot at our house." If this feeble attempt to explain your being here wasn't so damn embarrassing, you might have burst into laughter at how ridiculous you sound. But you don't feel like laughing, and neither does he.

"What? You brought her tea? A year after she left you? Are you kidding me?" His voice has become louder with every word. In the end, he's yelling at you.

"Mark," the receiver of the tea intervenes, "would you calm down, please. There's no need to shout like this."

"Who knows how many times I've seen him here? Four, five? And how often has he been here without me even knowing? Huh, Dana?"

"You're not seriously expecting me to give you an account of who I meet with when you're not around, are you?" Her eyes indicate quite clearly that his boring questions are pissing her off. You've never seen her eyebrows melt into her hairline like this, and you've been at the receiving end of her indignation countless times. You're an expert, actually, on what she looks like when she's mad.

Mark is unwavering tough in his current state of anger. "You're entertaining other men in your pajamas when I'm not here, Dana, and it's supposed to leave me cold? Really?"

Your breath is halted. Of course, he doesn't know that Scully in a robe was so common to you even before you became romantically involved that it really is no big deal. Actually, you haven't really noticed she was in her pajamas when you got here until she said she would go change quickly and you told her not to be silly. You saw each other in hospital gowns, nightwear, undergarments, naked more than any other working duo on the planet, so seeing your former spouse in a pair of flannel PJs underneath a thick white terry cloth robe isn't inappropriate one bit. For you, that is. His attitude varies slightly from yours.

"What are you implying here, Mark?" Scully asks tight-lipped, although it's pretty obvious. Regardless that he is miles off target with his suspicions, you feel a pleasant twitch in your groin. An unexpected, yet very pleasant one.

"He's more to you than just a friend, right?"

There, he speaks it out. His voice is weirdly distorted when he draws imaginable quotation marks into the air pronouncing the word 'friend'.

CLOSURE B - Shippers: Everything's Yar

The innuendo is hovering above you like a heavy rain cloud imminent to empty itself upon you. Scully feels it too, and she decides to let the drops fall and soak you.

"You're right, Mark, Mulder is more to me than a friend."

"I knew it," he hisses through clenched teeth.

"It's not what you think, though."

"Ugh, come on, Dana, don't give me this shit. You simply never stopped loving him, that's it, and I was a welcome stopgap to help you cope with your separation, some stupid jerk who boosted your self-esteem adoring you and putting himself at your feet. What an idiot I've been."

"Wow," she mutters, "this is how you think of me? That I would use you like this? I thought you knew me better."

"Well, do we ever really know a person? Know all their motivations and thoughts, every hidden corner of their soul?"

You'd like to tell him that you do. You know Scully's soul better than your own. You can draw a map of every wound that soul has suffered from. You can tell exactly how high the wall is she's built around herself at any given moment and why it's there in the first place. You're able to follow her lines of thought without her having to utter a single word. If he knew how he's wronging her just now, he would keep his fucking mouth shut.

You can't help but back her up. "Would you take it down a notch, Mark? Why don't you just listen to what she's saying?"

"Don't you tell me what to do!" he bellows at you, angry beads of spit splashing out of his contorted mouth. You can't blame him. You remember how you reacted to the Ed Jerse incident all those years ago, and you hadn't even been a couple back then. Jealousy can do peculiar things to a once self-assured man.

"Mark, please sit down and listen to me," Scully says, "I never used you, neither did I ever lie to you. There are certain things I haven't told you, that's true, things about Mulder and myself, but not to betray you but because they are-"

Mark's hands shoot up to silence her. "Wait, let me say it, Dana," he demands, his voice sharp as a knife, "because they are cla-ssi-fied. What a perfect excuse for everything!"

"Well, they are, I can't help it," she replies steadfastly, "I'm not keeping them from you to hide any secrets you obviously think I have but to spare you the ugliness of what I've seen. Believe me, you don't want to know what Mulder and I dealt with. I understand that it's not easy for you and that I'm demanding a lot, but this is the only way it's going to work between us. If you cannot trust me on this, if you can't give me credit here, I don't see how we are going to continue our relationship."

"That's rich, Dana, really! Now I have to be thankful that you're protecting me from the world's villainy? Great! Like a boy who doesn't get told that his hamster died while he was in school."

She stares at him, bewilderment and disbelief written all over her face. "I can't believe we're having this conversation, Mark. I thought we had an understanding that my work with the FBI was part of my past I wanted to leave behind me."

"Can you at least tell me what you meant when you said he's more to you than a friend? I'm sorry that I'm so pathetically territorial here but I need to know there's nothing going on between you, otherwise I'm going to get crazy."

He seems to have forgotten that you're still here, or he doesn't care. You wished she had let you go a few minutes ago. You feel out of place and not entitled to listen to this conversation but you also know that your being here gives her strength. The two of you have got nothing indecent to hide from him, as much as you'd like there was.

"Please, baby, tell me what's so special about him that you can't let go of him," Mark implores, sounding so pleading and vulnerable all of a sudden, you can't but sincerely pity him.

Scully looks at her boyfriend. You notice compassion for him in her eyes, how seeing him falling apart in front of her touches her deeply. She will tell him, you realize, and your stomach feels as if you've just swallowed a pile of glass shards. You try to shield yourself from what you're going to hear because it will be as painful for you as it will be for her.

After another moment of silence she needs to muster up the strength to articulate the words, you hear her say, "he's the father to my son. Mulder and I have a child together."

Boom! The bomb has exploded.

You feel dizzy as the aftershocks ripple in waves through your body. Mark has turned into a pillar of salt. You're actually not sure he's still breathing. He stares at Scully with eyes wide and his mouth gaping. "I'm sorry, what?" he finally manages to utter.

"His name is William. He's thirteen."

"You have a son?"

"Yes."

After a moment he needs to process the information, Mark jumps up from his chair. The loud bang of the backrest making contact with the floor tears the silence apart that has been thickening the atmosphere in the room up to a point you feel you're suffocating.

"I can't believe this! For the six months we've been together you didn't deem me worthy to let me know this of you? That you are a mother?"

"I'm not a mother. Not anymore."

You feel like throwing up. You inhale deeply to fight the nausea. What you want to prevent from happening under all circumstances is that they turn their attention to you because you're emptying the contents of your stomach into the kitchen sink. This is not about you, although you play an important role in this. This is about Scully and Mark.

"What do you mean not anymore? Is he dead?"

Scully gasps. Tears flood her eyes and you see how hard she struggles not to lose her composure and break out in crying. You have to help her out.

"We don't know for sure, but we can assume that he is alive," you tell him, and to her you say, "we have every reason to believe he's safe and happy, Scully."

That's all you're going to say. What's more to explain needs to come from her. Mark won't understand anything with the cryptic way the two of you have been beating around the bush so far. How can he?

As if on cue he croaks, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"I gave him up for adoption a few weeks before he turned one. I insisted on a closed adoption, so we have no information whatsoever about him." Her voice is calm and firm. She has once again managed to detach herself from the painful emotions, talking as if she was giving facts on a case.

"You gave your child up for adoption? I can't quite believe this, Dana. It doesn't sound the least like you. You're far too caring and giving for me to be able to picture this. You love kids. You work up to exhaustion to cure the children in your hospital, and I've seen you together with your nephews and niece and together with my kids. I can't imagine a reason why you should be giving away your own son."

You hate to admit it, but he impresses you. He's not judgemental or self-righteous, he's not blaming or condemning her like so many other people who have learned this about her, including her own brother. He is quite the contrary. "What happened, sweetheart?" he asks in a gentle voice full of empathy and reaches out to her but she pulls her hands away. 'Come on, Scully,' you want to call out to her, 'let your guard down. Open up to him.' But her eyes are glued to her entwined fingers, the knuckles white from kneading them fiercely. She bites her lower lip so hard you're afraid she'll draw blood. The tension wafting off of her is palpable, the inner turmoil readable.

She looks at you, questioning you what to do in the wordless communication you have perfected between you over the years. You give a nod that has to be almost invisible to Mark but is to Scully as if you were gesticulating wildly with both arms. She gets it. She clears her throat, wiping her palms on her thighs in what is an irrational replacement activity. You know that her hands get cold when she's tensed-up, not sweaty. You want to take them in yours, warm them up with your body heat because you actually are on fire, but you're aware that this is her battle to fight. You've talked to your therapist more than once about William, you're not sure she's ever talked to anyone about him, really talked about him. So you catch your breath with relief when she starts to speak.

"I longed for this child. I wanted to be a mother so badly, I had even tried IVF at a time I was single."

"IVF? With a sperm donation?" Mark asks.

"Uhm, yes," she answers shyly. You can see how hard she tries not to look at you. She most certainly doesn't want to give him a clue about the donor's identity.

"But it didn't take it," he concludes correctly.

"No. No, it didn't. I was told I couldn't conceive naturally, so this had been my only chance. A very slim chance, but I was so hopeful and therefore devastated when it failed and I had to accept that I was never going to have a child. About two years later, something that can only be called a miracle happened and I became pregnant the...uhm...the old-fashioned way."

Now she does look at you and Mark takes his eyes off of her to look at you too. He arches an eyebrow, you literally see the movie running in front of his mind's eye and you do everything you can to keep the sweet smile off your face that is tugging at the corners of your mouth. What a magical night that was!

Mark refocuses on Scully. "You call it a miracle, so I take it you were happy when you found out you were pregnant."

"Indescribably. The pregnancy and childbirth weren't without complications, though."

You almost laugh at the ridiculous understatement. A presumably dead father, the everpresent fear that her pregnancy was engineered, that her baby wasn't normal, plus a childbirth witnessed by supersoldiers were actually poisonous to the experience, not *complicating* it. She was finally in a state she had yearned for so long and then she wasn't allowed to enjoy it like any expectant mother should. The injustice of it all still makes you curse everything and everyone: fate, God...the Cigarette Smoking Man and his cronies.

"But when William was finally born and I was holding my healthy baby in my arms, I was so happy. I thought that a wonderful life was waiting for me together with my beautiful son and his father."

So did you. The kiss you shared with her in her apartment was so promising. You finally had the feeling you had found your home, somewhere you could settle down and someone you belonged to. Your bliss lasted exactly for 48 hours - the most wonderful 48 hours of your entire life - before you had to leave the woman you had eventually allowed yourself to love and the baby boy who had taken possession of your heart the moment you first held him in your arms.

"How naïve I was. How stupid," Scully whispers more to herself than Mark, completely sunken in her painful memories.

"Where the hell were you, Mulder?" Mark obviously has problems making sense of what he's been hearing so far.

"I, uh-" you start without even knowing what to say when Scully leapfrogs you. "Mulder's life was at stake. He had to go into hiding."

"I see. He saved his sorry ass and left you and the baby alone."

"I told him to get himself out of harm's way."

"Of course you're defending him but seriously, what kind of man leaves a woman who's just given birth all to herself with a newborn?"

You can't but agree. What kind of man did that to her?

"Our lives would've also been threatened if he had stayed."

"Sure, he did you a favor heaving all the responsibility onto you." Sarcasm is dripping off of every word.

"You weren't there, Mark. Don't judge Mulder for what he did if you don't have any idea what it was like back then."

You can't stand her speaking on behalf of you. You don't deserve it. "He's right, Scully. I shouldn't have left. My place was at your side. Yours and William's."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder! You know that had you stayed, they would've gotten you. What would've been the purpose of you staying?"

"The purpose, Scully? The purpose would've been not to walk away from the only two people in the world that were important to me."

You gaze at each other, both briefly oblivious of the third person in the room until said person coughs uncomfortably and brings you back into the here and now. You both turn your heads and look away from each other, startled by the unexpected intensity of the moment.

Scully clears her throat. "Well, Mulder, dead you wouldn't have been of any help either."

No, of course not, but you would've had more than just two days with your family. You would've gotten to know your son better than what was possible in only 48 hours. How many more time would you have had before they shot a bullet through your head? A week? A month? A year? You might have been able to see William sit upright, eat his first solid food, crawl or babble his first words. Mommy, most probably, and maybe even daddy. You could've watched Scully as a mother. You were struck by the radiance of her smile when she was nursing him, you would've loved to see more of her parental bliss. Every single day more with your son and his mother would've been worth your inevitable violent decease.

But you chose to listen to Scully and Skinner in their efforts to convince you to go underground, They told you it would be better for the three of you. When you were lying all alone in a bed in some shaggy motel room in the middle of nowhere, thinking of Scully and William until your heart bled, you weren't so sure anymore that it had been the right decision. When you finally reunited with her in a dark, cold prison cell months later, a broken woman was kneeling in front of you, begging you for forgiveness although you had no right to blame her for anything.

"Honestly, Dana," Mark and his full voice pull you out of your painful reminiscences, "I can imagine that as FBI agents you had to deal with the scum of society and that you put your life on the line every once in a while, but that agents have to go underground to protect themselves and their families from getting killed is new to me. Is that a regular professional hazard you accept when you sign your contract?"

"We were Special Agents. We worked for a unit called the X-Files. Our cases were very much out of the ordinary," she explains without really revealing what kind of individuals you were dealing with. Some hadn't even been human.

"And because of an extraordinary case, Mulder had to hide?" Mark tries to understand.

"We had messed up with some very powerful forces during the course of our work. Almighty forces. Forces that moved people around like pawns on a chess board."

"Such as?"

Scully avoids Mark's eyes. Failing an answer, she hangs her head, presses her lips together and simply shrugs. He knows what to make of her reaction. "Classified," he notes dryly and gets an affirmative nod. "Okay, so you sent Mulder away two days after your son was born. He wasn't there to help you with the baby. I got this. But that can't possibly the reason why you gave...uh, what was his name again?"

"William," the two of you croak in unison and Scully heaves a sad sigh.

"Look, Mark," you rise to speak, "this is all quite painful for Scully. For the both of us. Allow me to cut this a little short. Not only Scully and I were pawns, but so was William. Due to the nature of our work the circumstances are-"

Mark raises a hand to stop you. "Ah, Mulder, let me say it once again: classified." He lets the word roll off of his tongue with relish, as if it were a sip of well-aged single malt, only that he isn't enjoying the taste.

"Right, but let me tell you this much: Scully acted out of pure love for her son. With giving him up, she took him out of the game. You have to understand, on their chess board he wasn't a simple pawn like us, he was the king, the most valuable token they had. Only far away from us in an adoptive family was he able to lead a normal life, a life out of reach of the forces that meant us harm. Scully made the biggest of sacrifices for a mother to make."

"It was our sacrifice as parents. I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect him, Mulder," you hear her whisper. While your look rests on Scully's slouched figure, out of the corner of your eye you notice how her boyfriend picks up the chair he's knocked over earlier and slumps down on it.

Her guilt pangs make you feel awful. All these years, you haven't managed to dissipate her worries that you held her accountable for the loss of William. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Scully. None of this is your fault. All this shit you've been through centers around me, I'm the one to blame here."

"Mulder, you know I chose this life at your side many years ago and never regretted it."

"That doesn't keep me from believing that you would've been better off without me. You deserved far more than what you've got."

"Nonsense. How often do I have to tell you that I would do it all over again?"

You have nothing to say to this. She's told you this many times, that she never regretted having chosen this life although it cost her so much, and as much as you wished for her to have this other, carefree life full of joy and light, you thank the gods above that against all odds she'd chosen to be with you, you selfish sonofabitch.

"Wow."

The man who's set this conversation in motion earlier in a pang of jealousy brings himself back into focus. You have almost forgotten he's still there, listening to what Scully and you had to say to each other. Poor guy, this can't be something you want your girlfriend and her ex to be talking about while you're in the room. Actually, this can't be something you want your girlfriend and her ex to be talking about at all.

"Your relationship really is one of a kind." Mark is shaken by a bitter chuckle. "Listen to you! You're so fucking tender with each other it makes me question my position in this threesome."

You can't believe the word he's chosen. "Threesome?" you make sure you heard him right.

"Yes, threesome." He pauses for a moment until he stares hostilely right at you. "Let me ask you this, Mulder...has it bothered you even for a second that there was someone else when you decided to sneak back into her life? Huh? I mean, honestly, haven't you heard that trying to steal a guy's girlfriend behind his back is no way to behave among men?"

"Mark, please! Would you stop being so possessive!" Scully implores. "I don't like it. Plus, there's no need for you to make such a scene."

"You keep saying that, Dana. You allayed my suspicions more than once, assuring me of your affection for me and that he and you are just friends," he snarls.

"We are just friends," she shouts back at him.

He chuckles again. It's a mocking, sore chuckle. "You really believe what you're saying? What I've just seen here weren't two friends but two people showing me so much syrupy devotion to one another, it makes me gag."

His harsh words bring tears to her eyes, and you hate him for it. He doesn't understand anything, or maybe, actually, he understands it all.

"It's so damn obvious that I'm the fifth wheel here, I think I better go."

He jumps off the chair which threatens to tip over once again. He grabs his jacket and strides toward the door, but Scully blocks his way. "No, please, don't go!"

"Why? Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because...because I really enjoy being with you."

"You know what, Dana? This I actually do believe. You enjoy being with me. You like me. Maybe even a lot. But not even once did I hear from you that you loved me. I don't blame you, don't get me wrong. I know that in a relationship, there's always one party more deeply in love than the other and I guess in our relationship that party is supposed to be me. It's not a very pleasant position to be in, I have to tell you. I've been there already with my marriage to Jessica, and I'm not going there again. I'm sorry. I'm really madly in love with you, Dana, but if you can't love me back the way I love you, and I've just been shown that you can't, I have to get the hell out of here to save my neck."

"What is it you're saying, Mark?" she whispers in a trembling voice although she knows. You do too.

Mark cups Scully's face, tilting it up to make her look at him. His voice is gentle now, his features calm and peaceful. "I'm saying..." He sighs, clenches his jaw so hard you see his muscles throb, inhales deeply through his nose, then continues in an even softer voice, "I'm saying that you are a stunning woman. You're breathtakingly beautiful, you're sensitive, warm, giving. You were a wonderful mother, of that I'm sure. I fell for you the moment you stepped into my office. The man who gets to be loved by you is one lucky guy. Unfortunately, I'm not that man. I wished I was, but I'm not and never will be. Someone else in this room is. I've been enjoying my time with you, Dana, a lot, but I have to protect my heart from being broken, and it will be broken if I stay."

"Mark," Scully starts feebly but is silenced by his lips on hers. It's a chaste kiss, their mouths lingering on each other in a tender touch.

"Take care, sweet Dana," he says while swiping the remains of the kiss off her lips with his thumb. "And you, asshole," he starts talking to you without taking his eyes off of her, "you better get your shit together and make her happy."

He moves toward the door. His hand is already reaching for the knob when he turns around to look at you both. "Go find this son of yours. Build the family you both so achingly long for. You were both FBI agents, for Christ's sake, you know how to get information about someone, don't you? Classified or not."

He opens the door and walks through it but stops in the hallway once again. Without looking back he says one more thing. "Send me a Christmas card of the three of you." Then he's gone.

Scully is rooted to the ground. She stares after him, frozen, not even blinking an eye. You close the door softly and lean your back against it. You're downright flabbergasted by the ultimate course of events. You really have to give him credit. You'd bow to him if he was still here. That was some kind of a dignified exit off the stage. You're beginning to understand why she'd gotten involved with him. The man has class.

"I'm sorry, Scully," you mumble, "that's not what I came here for, today."

"I don't know what to say," she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm an awful person."

"No, you're not."

"I treated him badly, took advantage of him."

"Did you listen at all? He said you were stunning and that he treasures the time with you. No man praises a woman like that if he feels taken advantage of."

"I should've never gotten involved with him. It was not fair to let him believe that I could ever...after what we had...I mean...argh."

She pushes you aside and takes angry strides back into the living-room. Your heart breaks seeing her in so much despair. All you wanted when you came here was to share her company for a while. You didn't mean to chase her boyfriend away, although, if you're being honest, for your own selfish reasons, you're glad he's gone.

Some of what he'd said to her is still ringing in your ear.

"Is he right, Scully?"

"Right with what?"

"That I...uhm, that the other man in this room was in the lucky position to be loved by you?"

Mark Finlay isn't the first man to make such a remark. Many years ago, Philipp Padgett, the writer who lived next door to you, told you that Scully couldn't fall in love like he'd written in one of his stories because she already was in love. He meant in love with you but you were too slow-witted to be able to put two and two together at the time.

"Mulder, you know that the reason for me to leave you was not that I had fallen out of love with you."

She can't hide that she doesn't really want to talk about it right now, but you have to know so you insist. "That's not what he was trying to say, I guess."

"No, maybe not."

"And?"

She looks at you with her beautiful blue eyes that are now red and puffy from crying. "Mulder, let me process the relationship that has just ended before contemplating another one, okay?"

"Sure."

You clear your throat. You're a bit embarrassed. What did you expect? That she would fall into your arms right away and kiss you as if she only waited for Mark to disappear? She had been serious about this man, she had really wanted to give this relationship a try. You just realize how close you'd been to losing her. If it wasn't for the bond you share through William, the time you'd become estranged from one another during the height of your depression could have been fatal to your relationship. The son who left your life as an infant keeps holding the two of you together, how ironic is that?

Scully is standing at the window with her back turned to you, her body posture rigid. She's folded her arms around herself and you see her shoulders rise and fall with every breath she takes. She's upset and confused. You'd like to envelop her in a comforting embrace, stroke her back while she buries her face in your chest and place a kiss into her hair - strictly platonic, without any ulterior motives - but you're not sure it'd be much appreciated. Scully hates to be vulnerable. You can count on the fingers of one hand how often she allowed you to see her in a moment of weakness, the moment she told you that she'd given up William being one of them.

"Scully?" you break the deafening silence.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think he's right about...this, uh, other thing?"

You hold your breath.

"What other thing?"

Her eyes are still locked on something outside.

"William. That we should track him down."

You think you're able to see how the last bit of strength leaves her body. For a moment, you fear she's going to collapse like a marionette whose strings have been cut off, but then she recomposes herself. She straightens her shoulders and her voice is quiet but firm when she starts to speak.

"I sometimes imagine what he looks like. I picture him tall and lanky as you, with brown, thick hair. He hadn't grown enough of it when I handed him over to the social worker to be able to tell what color it would eventually be. His eyes had my color, but most babies are born with blue eyes, especially fair-skinned ones like him. They have very little melanin in their eyes, the pigment that gives color to the eyes, skin, and hair. The eyes sometimes don't produce much melanin, if any, while the baby is in the womb. After birth, light stimulates the production of it, which is why the eye color may darken or change over time. His eyes were still blue when I last looked into them, so maybe they still are."

You haven't seen Science Scully for a while, but there she is, rational and detached as ever, letting facts capture the space where emotions are too painful.

"I wonder what he's like as a schoolboy. Does he like science like I do or is he more gifted in the fine arts and attends a theater or writing class? If he has inherited your height, which I hope he has, he plays basketball probably or he is a good swimmer, maybe, like you. I bet he loves pizza like all teenagers his age, and computer games. Maybe he has a dog. It's nice for kids to grow up with a dog. I've always been a dog person. If he was living with us, we would have a dog, for sure. An Irish Terrier maybe, or a Jack Russell. Those are funny."

She's in another world, a dream world, where she keeps William around. You ask yourself whether this really is a healthy way to cope with the loss. You're not sure and you make a mental note to ask your therapist. You see the same broken woman you saw all those years ago in your prison cell, bereft of everything good in her life, and you realize you're the only person who's able to keep the fragments of her together, which is why Mark never stood a real chance against you. Only you have the ability to glue the pieces of her shattered existence together and make her a whole person. It's your advantage over all men that think they could hit on her, but it's also an obligation. You've seen what happens to her when you're not fulfilling your duty. She gets lost and disoriented with all the choices she'd made being proven wrong after all. You are her lifeline, the x-axis to the y-axis in her coordinate system. It's your damn responsibility to be the man she needs you to be after all the sadness you've brought into her life.

You approach her cautiously, for she's so buried in her contemplations that you're afraid to startle her. 'Take her by the hand and guide her,' you hear your inner voice tell you, so that's what you do. Your fingertips graze the back of her hand which is now dangling lifelessly at the end of an equally lifeless arm, which belongs to a lifeless woman. She doesn't react, is not taking the hand you're offering her. Her walls are up, you realize. Two rows of solid bricks, erected to shut everyone out, to retreat and deal with the pain all by herself. But you won't let her. Not this time. The two of you made that mistake once, each dealing alone with the loss of William, you won't let it happen again. This time, you're going to hold on to her and you're going to help her heal.

"I'm here, Scully," you whisper into her ear.

EPILOGUE

"Mr. Finlay, there's a private letter for you in the mail today. It's on your desk," the agency's intern who is responsible for distributing the incoming mail tells him.

"Thank you, Chad," Mark replies, but the boy is already gone.

He puts his briefcase on his desk and switches the desk lamp on. It's still dark in the morning at this time of year. He pushes the button on his phone to listen to the messages on his voicebox and takes a sip of the coffee he's brought along. He lets himself fall into his chair and sighs. Two more weeks until Christmas, then he will have two weeks off. He will spend Christmas Eve with his ex-wife and the kids this year. He's resolved all his issues with Jessica and they are able to converse on a friendly basis again, which is good for their two children, Benjamin, 12, and Louise, 15. He leans back in his chair and contemplates his agenda for the day when his eyes fall on the envelope on his desk with the note 'confidential'.

He reaches out and takes it in his hand. The paper is thick and there's a commemorative stamp with a Christmas ball on it. Season greetings, obviously. How many has he already received of these? All his clients, and he's got lots of them, send him season greetings, and the house owners, who want him to find tenants for their properties. This particular letter is also from a client, a very special one. He recognizes her handwriting instantly and has to smile.

He doesn't want to rip the envelope, so he opens the top drawer of his desk and takes a letter opener out. He positions the point at one corner and slides the sharp blade through the paper. He puts the opener back into the drawer and closes it slowly. He takes another sip of coffee before he pulls the card out.

The front only says Season Greetings, but when he unfolds it, he looks at some familiar faces. Two out of three are familiar at least, the third person is unknown to him but is so much a combination of the other two that he has to laugh. It's a teenage boy with the same thick dark hair as his father and the blue eyes of his mother.

He takes a closer look at the woman's face and is taken aback by the sheer elation etched on her face. Her eyes are sparkling and her toothy grin almost reaches her ears. He's never seen her that happy, which hurts him a little because he'd always thought that she had been happy with him also. Maybe she was, but not as happy as she could be, as happy as she is with this other man. Below the picture, he finds a personal note from her.

Mark, hope you are well. Thanks for everything. Dana.

His eyes fall on the man. With his long arms put around the other two, he looks like a proud family man determined to do everything in his power to care for and to protect his loved ones. "Well done, asshole," Mark mumbles, "looks like you've really gotten your shit together."

He takes his iPhone out, opens the messenger app and touches the profile picture of one of his favorite contacts. Hey Jess, he types, looking forward to spending Xmas with you and the kids this year. XOXO, Mark. He hesitates for a moment, then presses send. He watches for the indication that the message is being delivered and smiles when the little blue check tells him that's it's been received. The green dot next to his ex-wife's name indicates that she's online right now. 

A few seconds later, her reply gets in. Me too, and a smiling emoji.

END

[cosmicmadwoman]

Adam and Eve Chapter 2: Bang Bang

Prologue. Chapter One.

Just a few things before I start, this is for sure one of the kinkiest things I’ve written (gun play) so if that makes anyone uncomfortable I so understand and there is no pressure to read. I will have a summary of what happened in this chapter at the begin of the next one so you can still follow the story without reading it. I am really stretching my limits with writing really dark characters so I’m giving it all I got. I have plans for worse stuff too hehe. Feedback is very encouraged!

Summary: Betty and Jughead go to meet the Serpents and add a new unexpected member to the gang.

Rated: Super M

Word Count: 3432

Jughead was disillusioned pretty quickly when Betty insisted they shower separately. She was deathly nervous, he could tell; and she just needed silence to soak in the steam and think of all the things she could do wrong in front of the Serpents. Number one, she could pull an Archie and waltz in like an All-American Boy Fighting for Justice. It amazed her how plainly he saw things, like a rookie cop on a crime show. Her and Archie had the privilege of growing up with parents that had nice jobs and lived in a nice neighborhood where people didn’t have to make a living being a shady character.

There was a sharp knock on the door, startling Betty and causing her to drop the shampoo bottle in her hands.

“Betty! Hurry up or I’m going to have to hop in there with you,” Jughead joked on the other side of the door. Her parents would be home soon and it would mean a lot less explaining if she could get Jughead and his florescent colored truck out of here. Betty made a quick rinse of her hair and left the water running for a quick transfer. She wrapped a plush towel around her body and slinked back to her room. Jughead is waiting for her on the bed sans shirt. He is trying to tease her. His arms are above his head, stretching out his lean chest and torso. Jughead’s pants are just low enough where Betty can see the beginning of his patch of black coarse hairs.

Betty swallowed, “Water is still running, better hop in quickly.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Jughead murmured, not moving.

“You’re a boy, just wear what you did yesterday. Go,” Betty swatted him out of the room and went to her dresser and closet scouring her clothes. What could she wear that made her look more dangerous, but not like she was trying to hard?

The blonde opted for a simple pair of jeans, black Keds and a form fitting black V-neck. It was simple and she could easily blend in. Jughead came out with a pink towel wrapped loosely around his waist as he ran a hand through his wet locks. Betty was embarrassed to realize how long it took her to put together a lame outfit to meet a bunch of brutes.

“Is this okay?” Betty asked her boyfriend and she whirled in a Miss-America-type circle.

Jughead snickered, “They don’t care. You could wear a trash bag. I bet you’d look hot in a trash bag too.”

The boy proceeded to drop his towel like nothing and dried himself. Betty could never get over how absolutely gorgeous he was. His beauty marks and freckles mapped out his body leading Betty to the treasures hidden; his smug grin, angular jaw, broad shoulders, sharp hipbones… he was truly majestic. He pulled his clothes on from the night before and put the signature beanie over his wet hair. Lastly, he shrugged on his jacket and offered his arm to Betty like a gentlemanly escort.

“Shall we,” Jughead said with a lopsided grin.

“We shall.”

Betty was so eager to get this over with, she left her jacket inside and it caused her to shiver in the old pick up. She distracted herself by watching Jughead’s expression as he drove across the rocky back roads. He was impossibly stoic and showed no inflection of emotion. This was the Jughead FP warned her about; impenetrable and hard. He has nothing to worry about, they approached him. They want him to be a member of their family. However, there is probably always a part of him that fears the rejection he’s received from everyone in his life. They pull up to the biker bar and it looks relatively empty seeing as it is 11am. Jughead turns off the truck but doesn’t get out.

“If I go in there, Betty, I can’t go back,” Jughead said, his voice crackling under the threat of tears. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Do you want to?” Betty asked.

He smiled at her briefly and grabbed her hand. He knew what she meant, did he want to go back to be lonely and stepped all over? The Serpents could give him confidence, protection, and maybe lessons on how to defend himself. Jughead let go of her hand to reach for the door handle and stare at the entrance of the Whyte Wyrm. Betty soon joined him and they intertwined fingers walking up the rickety steps. The door was locked and Jughead rapped on it carefully. A little bald head peaked over the window and inspected them incredulously before opening the barndoors properly stolen from a farmer when the old doors were broken in an unsavory barfight.

“Hey, it’s FP’s boy and his little lady!” The short bald man yelled behind him with maybe a cockney accent?, presumably to the rest of the gang.

A mob of men came into view and Hack Saw, the man Jughead met that night at the trailer, stood in front of them all and ushered Jughead and Betty inside the quiet bar. He lead them to a large wooded room behind the bar. A little sheep dog named Hot Dog followed the group. The room had a huge long table in the center and chairs from different dining sets scattered around it. It looks like a hillbilly’s board room. The men take their seats and Jughead and Betty do the same. Betty took in her surroundings and felt completely out of place. Along the walls she saw several women standing and whsierping to each other. Was Betty supposed to stand off to the side like them? If Jughead was going through with being a Serpent, which he clearly was, she was not going to be a bystander like these ladies clearly were.

Hack Saw sat at the head of the table, clearly the new boss after FP’s incarceration. He clapped his hands together and leaned back on the back two legs of his chair.

“You know me. Bald guy who let you in Wally. Young guy with the acne is Wolf. I’m sure you saw him lurking around Southside High,” Hack Saw began the introduction. Wolf gave a skeptical nod in Jughead’s direction. “Guy with two different colored eyes is Tuck, long haired guy is Georgi and lastly, we got Jaq. He’s our Canadian connection. Behind us are our ladies.”

Jughead thought their introductions boiled them to singular beings and he wondered how he would be introduced by Hack Saw. Probably the kid with the hat. He nodded back at all of them. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Were they all going to be pals now, drinking beer, and playing poker?

“Alright, down to business. Wally is our weapons guy. Toss him his piece,” Hack Saw said.

Wally dug into a non-descript black bag under the table and slid a silver shining gun across to Jughead. He dug through again and passed him a green box full of bullets. Jughead stared at it, not removing his hands from his lap. He’d never seen a real gun in his life. He also had no idea that his dad would have one either, but it’s clear he did. What had his dad done?

“I don’t know how to use it,” Jughead said finally.

“Wally’ll help ya,” Hack Saw said. “Now boy, I’m putting you on bar deliveries with Wolf for the time being.”

“What does that entail?” Jughead asked.

Hack Saw quirked an eyebrow and looked back at a woman behind him, probably his wife by the look of her age and mom jeans.

“Entail means what does the task involve, sweetheart,” she replied in a scratchy voice.

“Oh yeah, what you gotta do is stalk the bars on the north side and swipe alcohol from their delivery trucks to supply the Whyte Wyrm. It’s easy we just need strong guys to lift the boxes quickly.”

Jughead didn’t realize he would go straight to work. He sort of thought he would get a free pass on that because of his Dad, but it seemed he was more replacing him as a body to run their business, whatever that may mean.

He hadn’t heard a peep from Betty the whole time and was considered she was mad at him for dragging her into this and as soon as this little meeting was through she was hitting the bricks and finding solace in the arms of their redhead friend. He doesn’t know why that thought popped into his head but he sure as hell didn’t like it. Jughead looked over at her and instead of seeing contempt, her eyes were darkened to a dark shade of green, almost like swamp water, and a weird twisted smile spread across her pink lips. She looked like a porcelain doll that just cracked her expression was eerie and wished to dive into the labyrinth of her brain.

“Do I get a gun?” Betty spoke up. Hack Saw and the rest of the gang looked literally blown away by Betty’s question as they all leaned back further in the chairs and even the silent women on the side gasped and whispered amongst each other.

“Like hell she does,” Hack Saw’s wife cut in, “I’ve been married to this bastard for 25 years and I ain’t got a gun.”

Hack Saw agreed, “We don’t give the girls their own guns. That’s just the roles. You gotta be a Serpent.”

Jughead was amongst the people who were aghast by her sudden determination to be a part of the whole situation.  “You don’t have to do this for me,” Jughead leaned over and pressed his lips to her ear.

“I’m not,” she said aloud. “If I must be a Serpent to get a gun, then make me a Serpent.”

“Betts—“ Jughead began, but Hack Saw cut off Betty’s boyfriend with a raised hand.

“These things ain’t toys, girl,” Hack Saw said to Betty, the first time he looked her the entire time she been at the Whyte Wyrm.

“They aren’t toys? You just gave one to Jughead and he’s never used one before. At least I’ve gone to a firing range with my dad,” Betty explained.

Jughead scuffed in his head. What can’t his perfect girlfriend do.

“Listen, girl, if you can hit three targets in three tries, I’ll you a gun,” Hack Saw snickered looking around at his gang mates. “I’ll set the targets.”

“Deal. And the name is Betty, not girl.”

Jughead was beyond amazed at the ferocity of his girlfriend and frankly, she had a pair of big balls. She was demanding a gun from a gang leader and putting up bets with him. There was a part of him that was incredibly turned on by her display of raw need for power but he didn’t want her to get caught up with this… but maybe he underestimated just how dark she was inside. He shuffled in seat as Betty took Jughead’s newly acquired gun and began to load the barrel with three bullets. She loaded it was such experienced precision. Betty was clearly confident. She spun the barrel back into place and smiled at Hack Saw, “Ready when you are.”

It started to rain outside as the Southside Serpents and their ladies watched as Hack Saw set up beer cans along the cars in the junkyard behind the Whyte Wyrm. They were placed in difficult places like high on a car hood that was stacked atop other cars, one on a bumper and one precariously perched in the broken window of an old mustang.

“The rules are you gotta hit all three with only three bullets. Gotta stand 25 feet back,” Hack Saw shouted to be heard of the sound of rain pounding on the rusted metal of the junkyard cars.

“Where are the headphones?” Betty asked innocently.

“Heh, girl, this isn’t the shooting range with your Daddy,” Hack Saw chuckled.

Betty decided not to dignify Hack Saw with correcting him—it was Betty not girl— because he was about to be embarrassed when Elizabeth Cooper became the first female Serpent. She steadied her hand and rose the piece at eye level and squinted. Her arms were outstretched as far as they could go and she felt the coolness of the metal trigger on her fingertips. She aimed at the can in the window first and blasted away, beaning it right in the middle. Over the loud pulsing in her head she could hear Hack Saw murmur something about beginner’s luck. She aimed again for the can on the top of the hood and the one on the bumper in quick succession quickly, shooting both down.

There was a deafening silence that was only overshadowed by the echoing of Betty’s gun shots. Not a single muscle of anyone moved until Jughead strolled up to his girlfriend and dipped her in his arms and kissed her until the breath in her body was sucked out of her. He released her and gave her a shit eating grin.

“Well, shit,” Hack Saw said as he began a slow clap. With the permission of the leader, the rest of the gang and their girls clapped for Betty. Even Hot Dog let out triumphant barks for her. “Presenting out first lady Serpent, Betty.”

A girl with purple hair came up to her, she looked around their age so she was most likely Wolf’s girlfriend and clapped giddily, “I want to make you your own jacket. It’ll be more form fitting and will look adorable on you!”

This meeting had gone better than Jughead had imagined, but nothing like he thought. Wally went inside and came out quickly with a gun and bullets for Betty. He looked at Jughead as he handed her the items, “I guess I don’t need to teach you to shoot boy, your girl here can do it for me.” Wally gave a friendly wink and joined Hack Saw who stood squarely by the edge of the junkyard.

“You can join your boy with deliveries,” Hack Saw told Betty. “Meeting is adjourned.”

Betty and Jughead grabbed their belongings and were silent until they climbed into the truck.

Jughead is the first to speak, “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

Betty let out a fake gasp, “Jughead Jones, how forward of you!”

“What made you want a gun anyway?” Jughead asked as he shifted the truck into reverse and whipped out of the park and in the direction of the Riverdale Trailer Park.

“I don’t know… it was like this part of me deep in my stomach wanted to know what it would feel like to hold a gun in my hands, being a part of something so….” Betty’s voice trailed off trying to find the right word.

“Dark?” Jughead finished for her.

“Yeah… dark. When Wally gave that gun to you, I had these images in my mind of us… like… God this is so humiliating,” Betty gave an awkward laugh.

“It’s okay, Betty. I want to know,” Jughead urged her on with unbridled curiosity.

“I had this gross, but hot, fantasy of us in bed together, naked, running the heat of our just fired guns across each other’s bodies…” Betty looked at him and bit her lip. Her eyes were big and doe-y and Jughead was about to cream his skinny jeans.

“It’s not gross,” Jughead croaked out.

“There is something seriously wrong with me,” Betty said.

Jughead wrapped his arm around her, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other threaded through her damp ponytail. “No one is perfect. I love all of you.”

“Even the fucked parts?”

“Especially the fucked parts,” Jughead laughed and migrated his hand from Betty’s hair to the inseam of her jeans. He played with the frayed thread at the apex of her thighs. Her breath hitched and she felt the delicious burning in her chest. Her boyfriend firmly pressed his three fingers to her core and rubbed her clit over her jeans. Jughead could feel the heat pooling at her center. A low groan fell from Betty’s lips and the sound resounded throughout the truck. Jughead smirked and traveled up and unbutton her jeans to reach a hand inside.

“You’re driving,” Betty said breathlessly as Jughead’s slender fingers slipped into her silky folds. God, he loved being able to play with her whenever he wanted. He spent countless nights stroking himself begging for the chance to just see Betty do a split in her cheerleading skirt, and now he got to feel what was underneath that said skirt.

He pulled into the dirt of the driveway of his trailer and parked it one handed. He turned off the car and leapt from his seat to kiss Betty feverishly as he moved his fingers in and out of her dripping sex. Betty pulled away from Jughead’s sloppy kiss and stilled his digital thrusts by grasping his wrist.

“Did do something wrong?” Jughead asked with his eyes filled with genuine concern and regret before Betty even said something.

“Can we try it?” Betty’s voice was husky.

Jughead looked down and realized he hadn’t noticed that Betty had been gripping her gun the whole car ride.

“Today? Now?” Jughead asked.

Betty just simply nodded. Jughead moved his body off hers and took the gun from his leather jacket and stared blankly at the piece of medal. Betty took the piece from him, making sure he still held it while she put the barrel in her mouth and sucked on it and licked the base like it was Jughead’s own cock. He automatically stiffened at the uncomfortable and confusing stirring in his pants as she made a show of caressing the gun with her mouth. The raven-haired boy left his mouth agape and Betty removed the gun from her mouth and got out of the car, heading from the trailer, and not waiting for Jughead to catch up. When his rigid body finally climbed the few steps to the trailer, he walked in on his girlfriend stripping her clothes. She was down to nothing but her pure white panties which she promptly slide out of. Wordlessly, Betty peeled the leather Serpent jacket off Jughead and wrapped herself in it. The leather swallowed her whole but she didn’t look lost in it. She looked found. If someone told him last year, or even last night; that he would have a naked Betty Cooper in nothing but a Serpent jacket and a gun in her hand waiting for him to fuck her he would’ve collapsed right there. But this was the reality before him and he was fucking hooked. Just the image of her dark eyes and sultry lips was addicting.

“Take me please, Juggie,” Betty sounded so innocent but looked anything but.

She laid back on the couch and spread her legs. Jughead stripped his shirt quickly and got his knees before his goddess and kissed her senselessly. His 16-year-old brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening and feels like he’s short circuiting. Betty undid his pants as he was busy leaving purple blossoms along her neck. His system was given an unearthly shock when Betty scraped the edge of the barrel across his hot and heavy chest. He took the piece from her and ran his tongue along it like she did before.

“Do you trust me?” Jughead asked. She could practically hear his heart hammering through his chest. “It’s not loaded, remember.”

Betty nodded unable to form words in the haze of uncharted debauchery.

“Tell me if this is too much,” Jughead whispered into the shell of her ear as he pressed the coolness of the metal into the heat of her sex. It is so dirty Betty practically cums right there. He leaves the gun inside her and is just mesmerized at the picture before him—a gun nestled into Betty’s vagina. He moved it in and out slightly before pulling it out and licking her drippings off the barrel.

“Fuck me,” Betty managed to say.

Jughead sat beside Betty and pulls in her onto his lap where she settles her sex on his manhood and bounces on him, both cumming so quickly just from the heat of it all they collapse into one another and just hold each other there.

“Who the hell are we?” Jughead whimpered into Betty’s ear.

“I have no idea,” she answered solemnly, half ashamed and half utterly satisfied.