#) through a walking service that takes them out into the woods for a couple hours everyday off leash and currently they are going to a marsh

[jimmystrudel]

Rip Thomas Chabot, he's not dead, his dog is just going to be disgusting for the foreseeable future

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

story playlist

The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song. 

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness. 

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff. 

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed. 

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws. 

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet! 

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form. 

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.” 

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs. 

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…” 

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight. 

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it. 

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her. 

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity. 

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her. 

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day. 

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall. 

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.” 

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking. 

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.” 

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?” 

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.” 

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she? 

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation. 

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected. 

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair. 

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails. 

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.” 

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building. 

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering. 

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor. 

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing. 

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera, 

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello. 

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you. 

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things? 

I hope to hear from you soon. 

Best, 

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat. 

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers. 

Prince Aemond, 

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold. 

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers. 

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat. 

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more. 

I wish you well. 

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk. 

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified. 

Lady Stark, 

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well. 

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries. 

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was. 

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for. 

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory. 

Were they strangers now? 

Does he remember her? 

… why does she still wish to see him? 

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

And so Kader rushed off to gather the materials needed for his gift. His sister smiled. Seeing Kader be this excited about something made her happy. Considering all that had happened recently, she knew Kader needed something like this to keep him distracted. Clover headed back towards her room, humming the soft tune her mother used to sing to the both of them.

All the staff in the Whimsain Castle could see was the young prince moving with pace around the grounds. Nobody wished to question what he was doing but could see that whatever it was, it brought him joy. It was a nice sight to see. He'd been incredibly distraught after what had happened so this was the first they had seen him smile in a while.

First, Kader gathered some oak wood, taken from one of the trees in the nearby forest. He frequented the forest when he was young, going with his father on long walks. Next, he collected some of the metal scraps the Terrestrians traded to his kingdom. This trade involved an exchange of rare candies for metal parts. His kingdom was well known for baking the levelling up treats.

He asked two of his staff members, Ted the carpenter and Josey the blacksmith, to assist him in making the parts. There was some parts where he was unsure where to start but he knew he would be given help. Ted, the oranguru, laughed when the young prince decided to use the wrong type of saw for what he wanted to do and decided to take over for a bit. Embarrassed, Kader sat patiently and watched the oranguru work, marvelling at his skill. Ted had been in his family's service for years, crafting gorgeous furniture which were spread throughout the castle. The box had such a brilliant finish to it and Kader was given the opportunity to create some engravings on it. Working with care and precision, he finished after a good few hours. He pulled inspiration from the designs scattered around his kingdom. The tiny stars and swirls were a common pattern found engraved on many of the stone worked buildings. He was impressed. It wasn't as good as his sewing work but he was satisfied with the outcome.

Next came the metal pieces to be placed inside. Josey, an armarouge who had recently come over from Terrestria, had a knack for making delicate and intricate metallic structures and was able to shape the parts needed easily. It was lucky she also had some expertise in music and this definitely helped with getting the pieces to make the right notes. Kader wasn't a big fan of the heat needed for this work but appreciated the time it took her to make what he needed. She smiled at him as she pulled out the cooled tiny metallic tube and comb-like piece from the moulds. They looked perfect and had such a lovely shine to them.

Finally, with some assistance, he was able to piece everything together. It looked fantastic. He was so proud of what had been created. Testing it out by rotating the tiny handle, it sounded amazing. Each note reminded him of both of his parents. He practice singing with it a couple of times, though he soon realised he wasn't the greatest at singing. Regardless, he kept at it until he was able to get the song almost perfect. After carefully selecting some wrapping paper and ribbon to go around it, he wrapped the small box up, quite excited to see the reaction of the Pokémon he was giving it to. He sent a message to the star sending Pokémon, informing them of where to bring the recipient of his gift and what time. Everything was sorted. Now time to get himself ready.

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

This Pokémon really was something. A Pokémon that could create portals to different places. Kader wondered if he would be able to learn of this power someday. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and stepped through the golden ring. He arrived in the Golden Oak Forest, the same location where he got the wood for his gift from. He just hoped the other Pokémon was able to make it in time.

Sitting on the bench was a Pokémon he has never seen before. She looked a bit like a gardevoir and so figured that she may be a regional variant of one. He had heard about regional variants from the stories told by the guardian. He approached the Pokémon, a slight nervous tremble in his step.

"Excuse me," began Kader, looking down at the Pokémon, "Are you by any chance the one known as Magpie?" She indicated that she indeed was, which allowed Kader to breathe a small sigh of relief. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Prince Kader of the Kingdom of Whimsain, located in Arkaedia. I am glad you were transported to this place without getting lost. Seems the star sending spirit did its job well. I must admit, I don't believe we have your species of Pokémon in our or any of the other kingdoms. I would love to ask you some questions but that's not the reason why I'm hear."

Kader carefully handed the box to Magpie. He waited in anticipation, hoping the gift would suffice. When the wrapping had been removed, Magpie held up a small music box, with small engraved patterns on. Looking inside, the carvings continued and tiny, intricate metal part stood still, eagerly awaiting the twist of the handle to sing its simple song.

"So, I saw that on your list, you wanted something related to music. I am going to be honest, I'm not the most musical Pokémon. However, my mother was. She was a wonderful, kind Pokémon who used to sing many beautiful tunes to my sister and I. I figured that I could share one of those songs as my gift to you. The music box was made with the wood from one of the trees in this forest. I helped with the engravings but my carpenter shaped the box. The metal parts inside were made by one of my blacksmiths. I'm not the best when it comes to work like that so I decided to leave it for her to do. I, with the instruction and guidance of my carpenter and blacksmith, constructed the box together. I hope you like it."

Kader sat down on the bench next to Magpie, shuffling to get himself comfortable."

"Before you take the music box away, I wish to share one of my mother's songs with you. It is a tune she used to sing whenever my sister and I were feeling blue. It used to cheer us up and I hope it will bring you cheer too in dark times."

He was incredibly nervous about this. His mother always made this tune sound wonderful and he knew he wasn't as good as her. However, he knew he needed to try. He cleared his throat and levitated the music box with his psychic abilities.

His voice was soft as he sung. He tried to copy how his mother would have approached the song. The music box sang its melody and Kader felt a sense of joy from it. Finishing the tune, Kader took a deep breath in. He was worried he may have been slightly out of tune but he enjoyed singing it.

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

Mod note:

So, this is my star sending for @idolmelodies ! I was so excited to get you! As soon as I saw your character wanted something related to music, I knew I needed to make a song. Gonna be honest, I have no musical knowledge so it was a challenge creating a tune but I enjoy figuring out the notes anyway! It was fun considering what Kader would do. Of course, having a mother who loved music certainly helped and when you're royalty you have access to a lot of resources. I hope you have a happy holidays!

[omegaremix]

Veterans’ Path, 2019.

This year’s one for stasis, an equilibrium that gave no leeway for possibility or moves. It’s not a good feeling when you’re dealing with depression after a major heartbreaker and you need some serious outs to move on. You leave it in someone’s hands to help make some of those changes. Instead, they fall short and constantly buy time, your time you’ll never have back. It doesn’t help any when doctor’s appointments, meetings with investors, pending vacation-weeks, the desire to escape to the city and see family are on the backburner for months instead of mere days, so things are never answered for. Everyday you deal with toxic, needy people who literally drain you of your resources for their own personal needs without any etiquette or consideration of your well-being or sanity. You bleed money for their failures and mistakes. You sit idle while you see your friends, allies, family, and everyday people make moves while your hands are tied tightly behind your back and there’s nothing you can do about it.

So what can you do when the high cost of auto repairs, late inspections, and the constant delivery of traffic violations and tickets keep you grounded? Nothing…except take a walk down to your local veteran’s path on your days off. It’s been the only form of escapism and a reprieve of leaving behind the disruptive anxiety-driving components back home. Walk out the front door, then along the service road and under the highway, down one clean residential street, turn a couple of corners, down another street where houses and open skies phase into heavily wooded areas, and finally you’re there.

Arrive at the veteran’s path where there’s always a pick-up game on the asphalt. Families of three, five, even seven – some with their kids on tricycles or dogs – walk together through elevated wooden plankways that zig-zag though the trees. Smell the sharp scent of apples, shampoo, or shades of ocean mist just by walking past the young Spanish girls who kindly smile and say ‘hi’ to you as you walk past them. Trees of emerald leaves in the spring or red, orange, and yellow leaves in the Autumn stand above a newly-replenished pond creating a mesmerizing near-perfect reflection. Walk off the pathways for the many heavily-wooded dirt roads or walk past the pond to find a hidden treasure: the graffiti tunnel doubling as an underpass for the railroad tracks above. Leave the veteran’s path and wash your hands at the bathroom which reeks of a church cellar and its’ soap dispensers pour out liquid lavender that makes a subtle mark on your trek. Two hours is enough time to dismiss your troubles, sort out your next moves, and even make a phone call or two to your family; all before arrive home right before sundown to catch up on the rest of the day’s posting, graphics, editing, and auditioning. Another quiet, peaceful day written in the record books.

Of course, I wouldn’t have an afternoon walk without something to listen to. My iPhone SE (32GB) replaced my seven year-old iPod Classic (160GB). With limited space, I only take about three months of finds with me. Those two hours of walking means I have more time to audition music for upcoming Omega WUSB shows. What’s in it, then? In case you truly care, it’s mostly city: d.i.y, safe-space, post-punk, indie. You can thank some of my friends and allies at the station for the first four. You can also thank Post-Trash, Brooklyn Vegan, Gold Flake Paint, and Alt-Citizen; all whose featured shining stars post their new sounds on Bandcamp and Soundcloud.

Jazz / fusion has taken me to places that no longer exist; places I never been to that I could never visit in a physical realm ever again. It makes me feel things only a very few can now imagine or understand. If someone lived or experienced it vicariously through the passing images, typesets, colors, aesthetics, and sounds that I have, then you’d understand.

Post-punk, d.i.y., or city? Not so much. The time is now and is very much alive, thriving and changing by the year because it’s here. Aesthetics of Wharf Cat, Katorga Works, Public Practice’s Distance Is A Mirror, Future Punx’s This Is Post-Wave, Gong Gong Gong’s Phantom Rhythm, Current Affairs, Boulders, Merchandise…I assure you get it by now. They, too, made me feel things to my own liking while many others in the scene are simply living in it. My aforementioned friends at the station: Conor, Layne, Toasty, Alosha, Kiki of Horrorscope… they bring their d.y.i. / city mindset to the station and it’s why Omega WUSB is feeling very proud of itself. As all this cycles in my head, it feels like I’m living another life, a life I’ve been trying to achieve. Scenarios I envision can be entirely possible and are waiting for me. I truly feel like I’m somewhere else; a place that’s very real but still far away from me…for now. That’s how powerful the connection is.

It’s been a void year for me, and such an anti-climactic way to end the decade. Only fitting after having a very wild year of extreme euphoria and collapse. The several trips to-and-from Veteran’s Path was the only thing I had to myself this year aside from a rainy Spring day out at Central Park. As a creator, you do your best in making something out of what you have. All you need is a time, location, soundtrack, and motive, and you have the makings of a new experience; a new mechanism for surviving an empty era.

Duckis demo

Annabel Lee “Hi Hi Hi”

Ex Hex “Cosmic Cave”

Garcia Peoples “Feel So Great”

Rong “Cup”

Spirits Having Fun “Auto-Portrait”

Ripped Jeans “Afraid”

Public Practice “Foundation”

Dig Nitty “Angel Calling”

Current Affairs “Breeding Feeling”

Strobobean Winter

C.H.E.W. “Bread and Circus”

My Brightest Diamond “Quiet Loud”

Free Time “Esoteric Tizz”

Sneaks “Tough Luck”

Patio “Legacy Continued”

Big French “Alison”

Jeanines “Is It Real”

Diat Positive Energy

VV Torso “Blood”

Dry Cleaning Sweet Princess

Weeping Icon “Teeth (& A Handbag)”

N0V3L “To Whom I May Concern”

Model/Actriz “New Face”

Channels “To The New Mandarins”

Sub Dio s/t

Bangzz “Your Boyfriend Is Really Bringing Me Down”

Ing “Closet”

Palm “Heavy Lifting”

Nazca Plate “Blotter”

Necking ”Big Mouth”

Pllush “Soft In The Dark” (1st VER)

Being Dead “Apostles’ Prom”

Remote Viewing “Whitney Houston, We Have A Problem”

Taiwan Housing Project “Buy Buy Buy”

Lungbutter “Vile”

Knife Wife “Every Living Thing”

Preoccupations “Pontiac 87”

Gong Gong Gong “Siren”

Dumb “Club Nites”

Second Still “You Two So Alike”

Rapid Tan “Gravy Baby”

Dry Cleaning “Sweet Princess”

Palm “Forced Hand”

Lunch Lady “Sweet One”

Kitten Forever “Hell Hole”

Necking “Spare Me”

Thanks For Coming “We Can’t Both Be Crazy”

Mock Identity “Where You Live”

Doe “Team Spirit”

There’s so much more than all the post-punk and d.i.y. I found. It wouldn’t be fair to ignore our rule of “as it happens, when it happens, anything goes.” The jazz / fusion time-and-space travel is still very much in operation. Down further is our new-found interest in Oakland / Mexican death-rock. Omega WUSB didn’t have a Halloween special this year so it didn’t get its’ day in the darkness. (Were you expecting sunshine?). Finally, some random spins of the wheel in synthpop, synthwave, electronics, hip-hop, and hardcore.

Walt Barr “Free Spirit”

Edgar Vercy “La Mer”

Paul Williams “Wistful Dreams”

Pasteur Lappe “Na Real Sekele Fo Ya”

Phil Upchurch “Black Gold”

Teddy Lasry “Riverhead”

Walt Barr “Creepin’”

Ötzi

Kurräka

False Figure

Cruz de Navajas

Zotz

Adrenochrome

CRVEL

Mystique

Pawns

CHKBNS “Can You And Me Still Have Fun?”

Canal Street Electronics “Deep Red”

Glued “No Past”

Odwalla 88 “What The..”

Sleazy “Cauchemar Administratif”

Your Old Droog “Bubble Hill”

Cave In “Winter Window”

Kedr Livanskiy “Kiska”

Planit Hank f. Jeru The Damaja & Buckshot & AZ “Life In Crooklyn”

[ask-missparker]

From simple girl to princess / Once Upon A Time AU

——

——

Summary: What happened then a stylish man appears at your door with an offer you couldn’t refuse? Would you take it?

Pre-Established: Ames & Cole

Characters mentioned: Aunt May, Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz and etc

~~~

In the south side of the woods stood a little cottage with miles of flowers wanting to bloom surrounding the area. It was midway through the winter, springs was approaching with time.

The sound of dogs barking and bird tweeting could softly be heard. And in the middle of it all on the steps on the cottage, laid a young girl dressed in browns and cream fabrics, looking somewhat ragged playing with old fashioned arrow that she found a couple of trees afar. Her mother was inside baking a small pie just for the two of them, humming a sweet little tune to herself.

The young maiden felt a small gush of wind blow past her, as she glanced around noticing it stopped suddenly, looking around for where the wind came from. The skies were clear and the sun was decently shining among them, in result she shrugged and leaned her elbows back against the steps.

“Hello dearie!” Yelled the voice.

She jumped, holding a hand above her heart, “Ah!”. Her hands curled into her body in shock and slight fear, turning around to see a man leaning against the column of her front porch. He was young but held a mischievously welcoming smirk to him, tailing his fingers as if to say ‘hello there’ as he made himself more than comfortable.

“H-h-wh-who are-? How did-? Who are you?” She replies trying to gain control of her heartbeat.

With a grin he took a bow and twirled his wrist saying, “Rumplelstiltskin at your service! But many like to call me by my other name, Cole.”

“Cole?”

“That’s the one, don’t wear it out.”

“W-wh-what do you want?”

“I’m here to offer you a deal dearie.” Cole explained holding up a finger once he saw her open her mouth to speak, “Ah—let me finished before you start asking questions. The king Shaw has no children of himself, his last one died in battle, so he requested I find him 2 worthy ladies to be his daughters as replacements. I already found you and you, my dear, are the other is already at the castle. With this life, you get all the flexibility and riches you could dream of but on one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“You have to leave your mother here and can’t return to see her as often as you’ll like. And pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“I um..I don’t know.”

His grinned dropped to a deadpan look as he scoffed, “You don’t know? I’m sorry, did you just say ‘I don’t know’ when I just gave you the offer of a lifetime? Any other fair maiden would love to take that chance?”

“And leave my mother?” She repeated, with a lower her voice, realizing she dropped the arrow she was playing with, “..and pretend to be someone I’m not..?”

“Let me put it this way, your mother would be safe here at home and you get to experience the world. Go from rags to riches, and changing your name could be an opportunity to keep your home life separate from your royal one.”

“Flexibility and some privacy?”

“Something like that, just more grand. I’ll give you 24 hours to think about it and I’ll return in the morning.”

“But i-”

“And then we will find you something better to wear.”

“Yeah and-”

“Bye missy!”

Just like that in a cloud of smoke, he disappeared from before her very eyes. She blinked and walked inside, about to explain to her mother what happened but May already knew. It seemed like she was hearing from the kitchen, May took her only daughter hand and pressed a small kiss to her cheek. She told her all she ever wanted was to have her daughter to create her own path aside her own. But Amelia said it won’t be the same without her aside.

May paused putting her pie into the oven and returned giving her a warm piece of advice as cheesy as the words may see.

“You may be miles apart but I will always be in your heart. And who know? Knowing you, you’ll find a way to sneak off and tell me all about your day.” May said with a light chuckle, “I want you to make the right decision. Find love, explore the world and make some memories. I already made mine.”

Amelia’s eyes watered a bit at her kind words chuckling with a nod. She always dreamed of being able to see the world and learn a few skills one day. And her mother was right, given the opportunity she would sneak out of a window just to see her. But at the end of day she loved her simple life and wouldn’t replace it for the world.

Her mother even joked, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a prince that would sweep you off your feet and marry him, but you have to introduce him to me first.”

“Obviously, mother.” She replied with a wet chuckle.

“Oh my baby.”

May pulled her into a hug and pressed a lovely kiss to her forehead in comfort, wondering if her mother was right? Take the chance and see what happens. What’s the worst that can happen? So after 24 hours she agreed to go with Cole to the castle and become a princess, but not without hugging her mother who gave her a bag full of her old jewelry, well some of her old jewelry. May was gonna keep her favorite pieces no matter what.

—++—++—

Once she arrived at the castle, she met the king who gave her a once over then moved onto his kingly duties, but at least the women he met down the hall, Jemma, was nicer and awfully sweet. She had the true makings of being a princess with the gentle heart she showed. It helped that she actually was one.

She was soon thrusted into a room was ladies in waiting, who dressed her in a long slick red gown and a headpiece to match. Once they left the bedroom, the wizard of a man appeared in her room grinning at the sight, “Ah much better than those crummy old rags you were wearing. No offense.”

“None taken.” She replied, twisting herself from her seat on the vanity to face him. She noticed him opening the closet door swirling around in a deep bathing red cloak with sliver engraved diamonds and a thick fur collar. He looked awfully pleased with himself and she didn’t have the heart to say otherwise that it doesn’t belong to him. “You look handsome.” She added instead with a little smile.

“I know I do, dearie. I look great in absolutely everything I swear.” He replied with the upmost comforting confidence she has ever seen, “And now onto you. You can’t be plain old Amelia—but you can be..hmm, let me see.”

He gave her a actual well thought out look, commented on how hair shined in the lights and her she reflected well in colors of red and white. It brought out tones that matched the aura she was giving off. Her cheekbones were soft yet prompted by the way she smiled and her eyes were dark brown, but apparently her skin was smooth as the icey white snow outside her window.

Then it clicked for him, a shimmer in his eyes.

“Snow..?” He muttered underneath his breathe with a light smirk, nodding to himself.

She repeated to herself with a pout of her lips, “Snow?”

“…Snow White…princess Snow..it just might work. Yes! Perfect, I’ve done it again.”

“I’m going to be named Princess Snow..? T-that’s..that’s oddly enough kinda pretty.”

“Of course it is, I thought of it myself. Tik Tok, dearie! Time is of the essence and you need to make your grand appearance in front of the others downstairs.”

“Okay, okay, jeez I’m going!”

Just as she was about to leave, he yelled, “Ah wait! You owe me small favor for helping you. When your not going your princess duties, I want you to collect a small item.”

“Item?” She repeated holding up her gown by the edge of her fingers, “What kind of items Cole?”

“Oh just one of those beautiful roses out in the courtyard.”

“The roses as red as blood? Why can’t you do it?”

“I’m awfully too busy to do so.”

“What do you need a rose for?”

“Some kind of potion, I’m running out of those rose and i can’t have The King know I was here more than once. I can’t deal with his ass today.”

With a simple nod she walked out and down the steps to find Jemma next already being spoken to by The King. She listened hearing that King Midas, was coming with his son Leo who would pick a lovely one to be his bride. Jemma was blushing as she talked the other girls ear off with her knowledge on this would go but Snow gave the young woman an odd look. Yes she would love the whole love story but she wasn’t going to marry someone based upon that. Shaw just wanted the gold but she didn’t. However she didn’t have to wait much longer, as Midas own son walked in with a lovely smile greeting both ladies as his father went to speak with Shaw.

To her surprise, Leo wasn’t so bad. He was fair, smart, awkward but held a curiosity to him that seemed like a good fit for a future rule in society. Jemma seemed to agree, as those two were enjoying each other’s company very much. Snow smiled chuckling and cracking a joke or two with the young royals, seeing both of them as possible friends. She followed them to the courtyard, plucking a deep bright rose from the bushes as the corner of her eye, in came an arrow flying at their direction as Fitz yelled for her and Jemma to run for cover.

A gang of men and women in green jumped across the castle walls rushing into the courtyard as in came the knights and guards rushing across striking a fight between them. Fitz and the girls hid behind the bushes, trying to have them inch across the trees to get to the stairs. That was when a women jumped in front of them, holding her bow and arrow inching them back to the middle of the courtyard.

The 3 of them gulped, realized they were screwed.

——

“King Midas! Shaw! We want a word.” Yelled one of them, removing his hood to reveal a pair of Asian eyes and raven black hair almost icey cold piercing eyes. He looked between both kings smirking, “Midas you stolen slivers that belong to the townsfolk, give them back leaving them as gold or your son gets an arrow to the chest. You’re move.”

Fitz was holding Jemma’s hand, covering her behind him as he looked at his father. He pledged to give the money back and have a fair day, for the sake of all of their lives. Shaw and Midas guards were holding weapons agonist the people with arrows. The women from earlier, she held the arrow bow and arrow a few feet away from the young man.

Snow watched the man look between his son and the others. She couldn’t believe he was considering a long pause for this, Jemma rolled her eyes at the moment knowing that he should do the right thing but kept quiet, shaking a look with the older brunette. Jemma noticed a couple of guards were down, surrounded them pointing to a weapon as Snow picked up being a bow and arrow herself. Fitz noticed both women doing, as he moved to give them room with a tiny smile.

“Midas make the right choice here!” She spoke, raising the bow drawing it at the women who pointed her own at Jemma and Fitz, “..you’re got riches and can turn anything you want into gold. You only got one son..please..”

She can see Shaw’s glares pointed at her for speaking up, as he looked at Midas waiting for the answer. After a moment, Midas agreed as he ordered his men to get the money that hand it over to them. A couple of minutes later, a knight returned with the gold and handed it over to the what they assumed was the leader.

“Thank you.” He said, looking between the young royals for a second lowering his voice, “Sorry for theatrical performances, had to make a point.” He then glanced at the women who dropped her bow and said, “Marlene, let’s go.”

The women smiled kindly at the royals apologizing with a silent nod as she followed the hooded man along with their people out the castle gates. Midas turned to his son and the girls asking if they are alright, as they nodded. Shaw kept his glares to himself.

The golden king then smiled softly, “That was brave of you to keep your eyes up during all of it. And thank you, Miss Snow, for coming to my senses.”

“Uh..it was no problem, your highest.” She replied, resting her hand over Jemma’s and added, “Princess Jemma was thinking the same thing..t-to save our lives.”

“That was noble thing to do. Shaw should be lucky to have two daughters such as yourselves but sadly i can only pick one to marry my son.”

Jemma smiled and spoke, “It’s quite alright, we understand.”

“If only i had two sons to give you both a prince each. I’ll like to have Princess Snow to be his bride.”

Jemma’s smile fell as Snow blinked in confusion, the whole day she didn’t show any movements towards his son. Jemma did, the two were smitten after a couple of hours, Fitz looked happy.

Snow asked why her and not her friends—sister, as Midas explained the way she took a stand during the situation. But to Snow, the brains of the quick moment was Jemma, she deserved to marry him. Shaw glared at her, saying that she will marry him in due time as both kings walked away.

Fitz looked at Jemma, taking her hand saying, “Hey, she didn’t see what you did. You deserve to be my bride not, Snow. I like you, a lot.”

The girl’s smile returned, “You’re father said otherwise. We can’t hide our relationship. I want you Leo, i do.”

“Yes we can, I’ll come and see you every night i can escape him.”

“Shaw would just marry me off to someone else by then..or not have me wed at all.”

Snow spoke up, “No he won’t. I can try and pretend to be Fitz’s bride for the time being, as you two discover this connection between one another. Then you both can figure out a way to tell Midas the truth.”

Fitz smiled, “You’re too kind, Snow. You’ll do that for us til i can find a moment to tell my father?”

“Yeah, it’s the least i can do. Midas didn’t see what we saw.”

“I guess we’re fake fiancés now.”

The two of them chuckled as Jemma gave held the girl’s hand and said, “We can do this. I can schedule my nights to see Leo and have early mornings to go off to work on my duties.”

~~~

~~~

As Amelia returned to her room after a long harsh discussion with both kings, she closed the door and sighed deeply. She walked over to the chair near her best, removing her crown as she heard it. A insane amount of giggles followed by loud clapping.

“Well, well, well!” Said the voice that caused her to turn around, to see it was Cole sitting on her new bed, “I’m impressed. The new princess got teeth to back up her pretty little face.”

“Uh what?” She replied, as it sounded like gibberish to her that made her chuckle.

“I saw what you did. Offering yourself to make the prince and princess happy.”

“It felt like the right thing to do, they care about one another.”

“You even picked up a weapon! How exciting, isn’t it, dearie?”

She half smiled, “I guess it was..maybe this princess thing, isn’t so bad..? Aside from the fact that I’m being given away to someone I don’t love..”

“Ah well, you can’t have everything all on one plater can you, Princess Amara?” He replied, leaping off the bed and walked over holding out a hand signaling he wanted the rose he mentioned eariler.

“What did you call me?”

“Princess Amara. Or Amara Snow? I like them both very much. Just give you extra options, my dear.”

“Princess Amara Snow..Snow White. Alright I’ll take it.”

“Good princess! I have another appointment in a couple of hours and i need to my beauty rest. Chop chop.”

She sighed with an eye roll, handing him the rose as he took a light whiff and grinned. She asked what type of stuff is he gonna do with the rose, as Cole said it was for him to know and for her to possibly one day find out. With a wink and flick of his wrist he was gone. All she could do was chuckle, finding his antics kinda endearing.

Amelia removed her shoes as she spread her arms, flopping backwards on the bed looking up at the ceiling. Her first day as a princess and she experienced more than she could imagine. A new identity that only her and Cole knew about, an attack within the castle walls and a impromptu proposal to a young guy who wasn’t even given a chance to do it himself. Two new friends in her eyes.

She was a fiancé to a man, in hopes he would let him father know who he really cared for.

She wondered how long she could keep this secret up? Only time will tell.

——

That’s what I got! What do we think?

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife @cherrysft and etc

[crankyoldmage]

Some writing prompts I did.

On one of the Discord servers I'm in for TTRPGS (streamed here: twitch.com/neonlichstudios) there are writing prompts for characters. Here are the three I have written so far. Short background: Belgrim Demanna is the "official" name of CrankyOldMage. I often used the name in video game rpgs. Now here are my stories.

NUMBER 1- Prompt: You are a reluctant hero who must seek out an enigmatic book known as the Whispering Tome. It is said to hold the secrets of Arcanum's resurrection. The book has been hidden away for centuries, guarded by a clandestine group of mystics. You track down their hidden enclave and must convince them to entrust you with the Whispering Tome. How do you approach the mystics to earn their trust?

The last survivor of the mystics would only rock back and forth and whisper, "So much fire."

Later, at the Arcane Council, Belgrim Demanna kicked the door to the council chamber open.

"'Sup, Bitches."

The Whipsering Tome hit the table with an echoing thud.

"Here's your book. Pay me."

The councilors shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

"Master Demanna, " Councilor Milren began, hesitantly. "How many fireballs did you cast to get this?"

Belgrim grinned.

"You can ask the last survivor when he stops crying."

Councilor Milren silently passed a coin pouch to Councilor Beton. Then she silently passed a larger pouch to Belgrim. "Thank you, Councilor." Belgrim said taking the pouch. "Until next time."

"I'm not sure we'll need your, uh, services, again, Master Demanna," Councilor Beton grumbled.

"That's what you said last time," Belgrim grinned and left the council chambers.

NUMBER 2-Prompt: Peer into the depths of their heart and reveal their greatest fear. Is it a tangible threat, a paralyzing doubt, or a haunting memory that gnaws at their sanity?

Belgrim Demanna woke with a gasp. He hated portentous dreams. Of course, this one might not be portentous. It could’ve been just a regular dream...or nightmare. But, when you’re a mage you can never be sure.

He through off the blankets, shoved his feet into his slippers, wrapped his cloak around his pajamas and launched himself out the door of his modest cottage. His slippers squelched only a couple of times in the early morning dew on the forest trail. In only a few minutes he reached his destination.

Before him stood a large granite boulder. It towered above him and was covered in several scorch marks. He pointed his finger at the boulder, sweat sheened on his brow, he focused and...he was rewarded with the dazzling flash of a fireball. The flames hugged the boulder leaving behind another, new scorch mark.

Belgrim sighed in relief.

“Just a stupid damn dream.” He pulled his cloak snug around his shoulders and went back to his cottage.

“A couple more hours of sleep are called for, I think.”

NUMBER 3-Prompt:Within the vast tapestry of virtues and vices, what inner conflict plagues their spirit? Is it a struggle for power, a battle against their own desires, or a clash between duty and personal freedom?

Belgrim sighed. He got up from his chair for the third time and paced his small cottage, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet. He decided to step outside and walk the garden. Perhaps the sunshine, fresh air and blooming plants would help settle the conflict within. It didn’t. He sighed again and continued to walk into the woods.

It was a peaceful walk into the sylvan lands. There were lots of animals going about their lives and Belgrim smiled happily at them. Deer were eating fresh shoots off the trees, raccoons were washing their berries and clams in the stream and even his favorite owlbear showed off her new cub. The little one really took to scritches on the top of his head. But, pleasant as that was, it didn’t help Belgrim make his decision.

He heaved one final sigh and ambled back to his cottage. There was no more putting it off. He just needed to decide and take action. He grabbed his supplies and set to work.

“Pancakes it is.”

[mangodestroyer]

June 16th marks the two year anniversary of when I started working at my current job.

And holy shit, I can't believe how much my physical and mental health suffered for it. Along with other things that had been happening in my life, I am 90% convinced that I developed a form of social anxiety as a trauma response (something I may have already been suffering from to a mild extent). I used to love getting out of the house to go shopping and whatnot. Now I much prefer to order online or pre-order on apps so I can swoop in and pick it up. And the idea of going out and socializing is just... bleh!

My physical health is just not what it used to be either. I've been getting so many cysts. Most of which are on my joints from overuse. I used to love going for walks and hikes, but now it hurts to walk and I'm too tired to do those things. Not to mention, the sciatica I had mostly recovered from, which I got from my last retail job, has kind of made a comeback. Also, my feet used to never hurt. I used to be a very limber, athletic individual before working retail. I didn't really have body pains. Now I feel like I need to rest for two days to make the majority of the pains go away (weed, heated blankets, and ice help). And today, I had to work a lot more slowly because my entire shoulder area would sometimes get sharp pains that would make me nauseated. I've never had shoulder pain like that until a couple months ago. It extends all the way to my elbow and into the center of my chest and my back.

Also, I had to take a long break from school because I literally could not muster up the mental energy to get through my classes and need to save up some money so that I don't have to work while going to college. One of the reasons I'm even going to college is to get away from this kind of work (which I've come to find does not end up being the case for everyone, but look, I made it so far into my degree so I might as well get it finished so that I have a chance).

Not to mention, the lack of respect. The erratic scheduling and requests to cover shifts has just destroyed my sleep schedule. And today alone, I had to hold so many customer's hands as they ask for so many things while I stress over getting my tasks done. I need to ask management permission to do certain parts of my job and they drag their feet and forget to do so. So I have to remind them twice. I literally avoid getting them involved as much as possible because it's a headache and I just want the job to get done. And then there's the condescending, "What did you do this time?" attitude. And sometimes... sometimes it is me (sorry I don't remember to do everything perfectly in a fast paced, stressful environment) and sometimes technology will literally start pulling the stupidest shit. I'm not even kidding. I don't ever want to touch the service desk at this point because somehow I always find a way to break it. I should become a debugger or something. This never happens with my home computer tho.

And here's something existentially horrifying: some people work jobs like this 60+ hours a week. Just to barely cover rent, bills, and food. If they even are managing that. I'm only doing this 20 hours a week, with the occasional full time week... I'd literally rather rough it in the woods than do this 60+ hours a week.

Hopefully I end up getting somewhere with my side gig, in the mean time. I'm not asking to make a fortune off of it. I just want a little extra cash to help me get by, maybe even have some spending money. Thank God my dad happens to be really into the project and is pushing me to do it/wants to help out. Doubt I would have been able to do this without his expertise.

[httpjeon]

heajix ― jungkook (m.)

jungkook/reader | alien!au | angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 13.1k

contents: violence, blood, stabbing, minor character death, murder, mentions of mass genocide, knotting, breeding kink/impreg kink, light size kink, dirty talk, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, begging, multiple orgasms, light cumflation, cum eating, cum sharing

― synopsis: you find yourself on palacios, home to the sehebon. unfortunately, it’s not by choice and you quickly realize how deadly the planet is.

note: heajix is pronounced hay-jicks

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.

blog masterlist ― made of stardust masterlist

You'd been traveling, backpacking to be precise, through Fanet IV System — the newest system to be open for interplanetary travel. While you were traveling and exploring the newly available system and planets you began experiencing extreme technical difficulties. You wound up having to make an emergency landing on the planet of perpetual night called Palacios, home of the Heajix — an obscure, secretive race small in population.

Unfortunately, the least developed planet hadn't taken too kindly to their status of open-for-visits and had seemingly gone into a global lockdown of some sort since it began.

The second you stepped off your craft, you began to cough. The pollution in the air and smog that you could see had you scrambling for the mask you'd been given ahead of your visit.

You were in the heart of the capital city, Yathe, and it was nothing like you'd expected. Instead of a bustling metropolis like on all the other planets — it was nothing but abandoned buildings and graffiti covered walls. There seemed to be limited electricity supplied as street lamps flickered on and off, though most didn't work. The ones that were flickering helped you navigate your way around regardless.

The place was basically lawless, from what you knew, and the citizens did what they wanted to for the most part.

Pulling your backpack over your shoulders, you began to make your way through a nearby residential area. The houses, if you could call them that, were dilapidated and run-down; some had broken windows and others were completely destroyed. The Heajix's native tongue was plastered all over the ruined buildings and, while you weren't fluent, were talking shit about the other planets.

Using the flashlight on your phone, and aided by the illumination of the moon, you managed to find yourself in front of a house. It was small and wooden, no doubt old. When you walked inside, you realized it was just a simple one-room house with an attached bathroom as the only other room.

It was a gamble to assume it was unoccupied but, you really didn't have any other choices since you really couldn't spend the night out on the street. Your communications were down and there was no cell service.

You sighed and stepped inside, wincing at the visible dust floating around the room — thankful for your mask. When you turned to lock the door, you were dismayed to find there was only a broken locking mechanism. Groaning, you banged your head against the door.

"Why does my life suck? This planet might actually kill me!" You grumbled to yourself.

You dropped your backpack on the floor, unraveling the sleeping bag that was attached at the bottom and dropping it in a suitable sleeping place. There was a window right beside the front door, large enough for you to clearly see outside and allowing the moonlight to drift in.

You placed your bag in the corner near your sleeping bag and sat down. It was soft and cushioned, helping you to not feel the hard, rough floor beneath. There was a pillow sewn into the sleeping bag which you laid your head on.

The trip had been long and grueling, taking a week to complete so sleep quickly caught up to you. As your eyes fluttered closed, just before darkness completely overtook you, you swear you saw someone moving in the window.

Waking up to no sunlight was definitely jarring and you quickly realized that your circadian rhythm was going to flip out. Regardless, you looked at the time and it was just past 9 in the morning so you stood up and stretched, intending to take a shower. Grabbing your backpack, you dragged it over to the bathroom. Toting the thing made you realize how heavy it was — you'd packed so much into it for the trip. It hit the floor with a clunk and you were briefly concerned it would break the wood floor beneath.

There was a shower — a rusted spigot and a broken hot water nozzle. You groaned, realizing how shitty your morning was about to be. You reached in, turning the nozzle. The pipes clanged loudly and made a high pitched wailing noise before spurting out water. Your jaw dropped open and you let out a cry of despair at the yellowed water.

After finishing your horrifying shower, 20 minutes of holding in shrieks from the cold polluted water, you sat on the floor in the main area by the window. You did notice that the moon was a lot brighter than it had been and provided more visibility. Pulling out your file from your backpack, you hunched over the floor to take note of the crummy conditions the planet lived in along with their lack of fresh, clean water.

It was a hobby of sorts, traveling through newly opened solar systems and journaling your stay on the planets.

Checking your phone, you noticed it was nearing noon and your stomach began to growl. You slipped your shoes on and put the mask back on your face before stepping out; hiding your belongings in the bathroom to make it seem like the house was empty should anyone come by.

When you stepped outside, you felt a shiver travel up your spine at the ominous atmosphere. It was completely silent, not a single soul in sight and it set you on edge. Pulling the hood of your hoodie up, you kept your head down as you began to walk towards the area where your ship had been parked. 

Truth be told, it was quite common on planets of weaker economies for the Capital Planet to provide the citizen with rations. 

There were other planets you'd seen them on, and as you walked through the smoggy city you were pleased to find a run-down building marked with a giant red symbol of Vulia — capital of Fanet IV. 

The glass doors were smashed open and you easily stepped inside. It was dark and dusty with minimal light helping to guide you. Finally giving in, you turned your cell phone's flashlight on and began to look around.

The place was massive and you were shocked to see that the shelves were still lined with food. It wasn't abundant but it was clear not many people had been picking from the rations.

You grabbed some things from the shelf, realizing you should have brought your backpack. Most of the food was marked in foreign text but you didn’t care. You just needed food or else you wouldn’t survive long enough, on the planet, to even figure out how to get home. 

You put some in your pockets and carried others in your hands as you swiftly left the building. Looking around, you felt like someone was watching you but the streets were pedestrian-free. In fact it was eerily empty — it was reminiscent of a ghost town. Strange considering it was the capital city of the planet. 

Not wanting to risk getting into trouble, you hurried on your way the your ‘home’. Regretfully, as you shut the door, you remembered the door didn’t properly lock. You weren’t particularly handy enough to really fix it by yourself, unfortunately.

You saved as much food as you could in order to avoid having to go back out and quickly found yourself bored. Looking at the clock, you realized it was only about 2pm. There was no way you could go outside to find something to do. Aside from the fact you knew close to nothing about the planet, you also didn't feel safe out and about.

So you sat there, watching the hours tick by. Your phone battery was depleting and there was no way to charge it — the planet wasn’t quite equipped with outlets and electricity. Once it was dead you were going to be so fucked — no flashlight and no way to tell the time.

It was still early when you decided to roll out your sleeping bag and lay down. You spent a while simply staring at the walls and ceiling daydreaming. 

As you lay there in your own world, out of the corner of your eye, something shifted in the darkness of your window.

You sat up quickly, turning your head to look but found nothing to see.

"Now I'm starting to hallucinate," You grumbled, laying back down and turning your back to the window.

You sighed when you woke back up, glancing at your phone indicated it'd only been a couple hours. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, your gaze shifted to the window once again.

Your breath caught in your chest when you could make out the shape of a person standing there — silhouetted against the moon's light.

You couldn't see their face but you knew they could see you, you could feel their gaze burning into you, as they brought their hand to the glass and tapped three times. You didn't breathe, eyes wide with fear you watched as their head tilted to the side. They lifted their hand up again, no doubt intending to knock again when they froze.

You swear you could hear muffled voices but it was so faint it was nearly impossible to be sure that's what you heard. The person's head snapped to the side, body going stiff.

Much to your horror, a second figure made an appearance from a few feet behind them.

All was still for a second before the first figure bolted and took off running. The second person stood there for a second and you were scared they were going to harass you as well. However, the person turned and walked in the opposite direction the other one ran.

With your sleeping bag pulled up to your eyes, you knew you weren't going to be falling asleep again.

When the morning came, you began trying to fix the lock — the night before having made you terrified for your safety. It was a simple type of latch and it took you hours to figure out a way to get it to work — with the help of a bobby pin and a spare pen you had in your bag.

It wasn't the best but it gave you a sense of peace of mind. 

You hoped you'd be able to sleep.

Staring at the window, you sighed — maybe you could find something to cover it up when you grew the courage to go out again. You really needed to, having run out of rations and on your last bottle of water that you had collected.

Your phone was almost completely dead after you had been using it to light your work on the lock. The bar was red indicating a sad 18% power left.

The time was a bit past 5PM and you decided to go while it was still technically daytime. Once outside, you wanted to cry with how much you hated it.

Curse you and you terrible luck. 

You could only hope that the signals for help you'd sent out would miraculously find their way to someone who could help you. There was also the possibility of you finding someone in Yathe who could help you — whenever you gained the courage to venture around and find help for yourself.

Until then, you'd just suffer by yourself.

You did the rounds again, this time you stuffed much more into your backpack — which you’d remembered to take. Every little creak and gust of wind caused you to jump, the image of that person standing at your window was still haunting you. 

You were going to be severely out of luck soon; with no phone, no way to contact Earth or a nearby planet to get to for safety, along with the apparent stalkers hiding in the dark. With worries weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself drifting into your thoughts. Anxiety riddled your being and you cursed yourself for not having been prepared for an event like the one you were in.

The only thing that pulled you from your thoughts were the heavy footsteps not far behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your hands began to tremble. Taking a glance over your shoulder, you saw a broad-shouldered individual meandering around behind you. With their hood pulled over their head, you couldn't see their face but you were sure it was a man.

When he noticed you looking, he picked up his pace intending to catch up to you. You held a whimper of fear in, speeding up your own pace.

His footsteps sped up again and you felt tears of fear pricking at your eyes — your house was right up ahead. You could get inside and lock him out.

Just before you reached your house, the footsteps stopped altogether. When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw the man talking to another person.

He had a friend.

You were in such deep shit.

Practically bolting to your house, you locked the door shut and placed your backpack in front of it — it was heavy and it wouldn't do much. Nonetheless, it helped you feel safe. You slid to the floor underneath the window, out of view.

Despite your fear, your stomach began to grumble with hunger. You chanced a peek out of the window and found there was not another soul in sight.

Your hands were shaking so bad it made it difficult to bring your drink safely to your lips. It took you an hour, according to your phone, to eat some of your food as you had kept drifting off into space.

A loud bang made your eyes shoot open, having fallen asleep against the wall with your knees to your chest. Drowsy, you looked around for the source of what woke you up.

Another bang and you saw your poorly locked door move with the weight of someone slamming against it. You scrambled backwards away from the door, eyes wide as tears pricked at them in fear.

There was nothing you could do as the lock gave and the door flew open. A man stood there, shoulders heaving as he glared at you. You could see only his eyes as his face was masked with scarf.

"Please..." You whispered, backing yourself into a corner.

"I knew you were a human," He growled, voice gruff and raw. "You know you're not welcome here."

"I-I..." Your mind blanked with any defense you could have made.

Just as he took another step forward, a second larger figured barreled through the open doorway. He was covered by an oversized black hoodie and black face mask. The heavy black boots on his feet added more to his height. You saw your life flash before your eyes and you just knew you were doomed.

"You—" The new man moved forward in the blink of an eye and had the other man jacked up against the wall by the front of his shirt.

"What did I tell you?" The second man asked, voice muffled by the full-face white mask he wore.

"Look—" The first man began but stopped when the second tightened his grip. "Fuck fine, I'll go."

The second man said nothing, simply letting the other go for him to run out the door. He sighed, shoulders relaxing as he turned to you.

You were frozen where you sat, his dark eyes, through the dark shadow his long bangs casted, doing nothing to quell your fear.

"What's your name?" He suddenly asked.

"_-_____," You muttered, not taking your eyes off him as he began to walk around your house. His boots thunked against the wood floors as he investigated whatever he saw.

"Well ______," He turned to you and sighed. "My name's Jungkook."

He crouched in front of you, the chain hanging on his jeans jingling when it met the floor, pulling the bands around his ears off and removed his mask.

It felt like the air was promptly knocked out of you. Even in the dark you could make out beautiful features on his face; wide, sparkling doe eyes with long curly bangs that hung in them. He had pretty, delicate lips with a small freckle beneath and a sharp jawline.

He was young and really good looking.

"N-Nice to meet you, Jungkook..." You stuttered.

He cocked his head to the side, fully sitting on the floor in front of you with his legs spread and arms resting on his knees. His dark eyes analyzed you, scanning over your features and body.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice portraying no identifiable emotion.

"I-I just found this e-empty house and—"

"No, I mean why are you here...on Palacios," He nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared at you.

"I um...I was traveling and had to make an emergency landing on the nearest planet," You explained.

"Why are you still here?" Jungkook's eyebrows were furrowed.

"My...my communications are down and Palacios doesn't have cell reception," You explained. "I attempted to send out an emergency beacon when I landed but there's no telling if it went through. And I've been too scared to try and make the trek back to see."

"It's probably been looted and dismantled by now for spare parts," He said, making you groan in despair.

"Are there any like...Embassy officials I can talk to? Government officials that can help me?" With every question, you felt your heart beginning to race with anxiety once more.

Jungkook's shoulders shrugged as he shook his head. "Do you not know anything about this place?"

"Only what's been released through the media," You replied honestly. "That you guys went into a lockdown or something."

"We don't...like outsiders here," He whispered before looking away. "There's no one who can help you. We're governless and we have no officials."

"Well how do you have laws a-and—"

"Does it look like we have laws, _____?" He snapped, making you flinch. "Look around. This isn't Earth. We don't have the luxury of being law-abiding citizens. We do what we have to to survive."

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"Let's go," He cut you off again, standing up.

"Where?" You whispered, staring up at him.

"I said let's go," He growled, reaching down and grabbing your elbow. You whined when he aggressively jerked you to your feet, ignoring the painful grip he had on you.

"Wait! My things!" You complained, trying to break out of his harsh grip.

Jungkook growled, snatching up your backpack and tossing it over his shoulder.

"My sleeping bag..."

"You don't need it," He grumbled, yanking you out of the broken doorway.

As you walked, you noticed he tugged his mask back on — hiding his face. To your surprise, he pulled you only a few houses down from the one you had been in. He pulled out a key ring from the belt loops on his jeans and slid a key in the lock.

The house was still fairy dilapidated but it had clearly been renovated and fixed up to suit his needs. He hastily slammed the door behind him and locked the three locks that were there — a knob lock, deadbolt, and a simple latch lock like the one in the place you’d been hiding in.

The house was a bit bigger than the one you'd been in — it had an actual bedroom. All except a single window towards the back of the house and a window you could see in the bedroom were boarded up. Jungkook dropped your belongings on the floor with a thud and dropped to sit on the tattered couch in the living area.

"Um..." You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching as he removed his mask again and tossed it away. His eyes cut to you and he raised a brow in question. "Why am I here?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, closing his eyes as he laid his head on the back of the couch.

"I mean...at your house, why...am I in your house?"

He chuckled at your question and you bit your lip at the sight of his crooked smirk. "Well, you were nearly killed over there. Did you want to spend your night there?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Look," He sat up and sighed. "There was no way you could survive on your own in this place. Actual Heajix can barely survive. So, I'm doing you a favor and helping you out, okay? The least you could say is thank you."

"I...thank you." It came out more as a question and Jungkook scoffed.

"You can sleep here," He mumbled, getting to his feet and stalking past you to his room. As he passed you, a sweet smell, delicate scent wafted off of him and you couldn’t help but inhale. It was nice.

You felt around your pockets and realized you had left your phone behind. You whined as you sat down on the couch, not willing to ask Jungkook to go and retrieve it for you. Jungkook's door clicked shut and you were left alone and in silence. It was dark, the moonlight from the back window barely reaching where you were sitting.

You curled up, shivering at the cool draft and your lack of a blanket. Closing your eyes, you hoped for sleep to overtake you.

Soft footsteps moved around you and your eyes fluttered open. Jungkook stood in the kitchenette, shuffling with something on a plate. Sitting up, you winced at how sore your muscles were from curled up on the small space all night. Your neck felt stiff and hurt when you moved it a certain way. 

"Um what time is it?" You asked, voice groggy from sleep.

"I don't know," He replied, not looking at you.

"What do you mean you don't know?" You asked.

He turned around, carrying a plate over to the coffee table and placing it down. He was wearing a loose white sweater and sweatpants, long curly hair messy and hanging in his eyes. "I mean...we don't exactly have a concept of time anymore. There aren't really functioning clocks so we all just...run on our own schedules."

"I see..." You watched him pick at some food on the plate and pop it in his mouth. It looked like some kind of diced meat. "What is this?"

"Food," He replied shortly, not offering any other information even as you glared at him. "Eat before you die of starvation."

You sighed but couldn't deny the hunger pains in your stomach. Albeit suspiciously, you took a piece of meat and popped it in your mouth. You hummed, finding nothing strange tasting about it — it tasted similar to ham.

The two of you finished it together and he leaned back on the couch with a groan, patting his stomach. You sat in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside.

"It's probably going to storm soon," He muttered suddenly, eyes drifting towards the window.

You hummed in response, picking at a thread around a hole in your jeans. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, truthfully his tough attitude and mannerisms intimidated you. The last thing you wanted to do was make him mad enough to kick you out and it seemed like he had a bit of a short fuse. 

"Do you want a shower?" He suddenly asked, making you jump.

"Um...yeah I guess," You dreaded taking another shower in the filthy water but it’d give you a chance to be away from him and relax a bit.

Jungkook led you to the bathroom and you were surprised by how well maintained it was. He grabbed a towel from a shelf on the wall and tossed it to you. Then without uttering another word, he shut the door and left you alone.

You were pleased to see a hot water handle and eagerly turned it. Then, much to your surprise, the water came out perfectly clean and clear. Without wasting a second, you eagerly stripped and stepped under the warm shower.

It felt like you were in there for ages, having to use some soap Jungkook had to clean yourself. You hoped he didn't mind, though it smelled very good.

When you stepped out, you felt fresher and you were surprised to see new clothes on the countertop.

He had come in while you were shower.

Your face burned hot, hoping he hadn't looked. Throwing on the clothes, you hummed at how clean and nice you felt for the first time since being on the planet. When you walked out of the bathroom, Jungkook was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and arms over his chest like he was napping.

"H-How did you have clean water?" You asked, taking a seat beside him.

You heard him inhale and felt his body tense. For a second you thought he was going to yell at you, but instead he opened his eyes to look at you. "I hooked all my piping to a private water reservoir that continuously purifies the water."

"That's...impressive," You whispered. "How'd you learn to do that?"

He shrugged. "Took a lot of testing, trial and error with the purification. But my parents were mechanical engineers in Zlathe."

"Zlathe?" You asked.

"It was another city a long time ago," He replied, running a hand through his hair revealing his forehead.

"...Was? What do you mean?" You sat up straighter and he sighed.

"Before everything fell, Zlathe was a neighboring city even bigger than Yathe," He explained.

"I don't understand," You muttered. "What do you mean everything fell?"

"You really are ignorant," He chuckled, though it held no mirth. You couldn’t find it in you to be offended because it was true; but no one outside knew anything about the planet.

"Well it's not my fault your planet is a secret," You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We were less developed than everyone...the other planets," His voice held nothing but spite as he spat out the words. "Palacios is the smallest and collectively they all decided, even as we rejected the idea, to create landfills here to dispose of their waste so their own planets didn't become a mess."

"So...that's what caused the pollution?" You asked.

He nodded. "The more toxic the air became, the more sick people became. Those who were able to leave did and those who couldn't were trapped. All of our government leaders left us without a word. Everything went to complete chaos."

"That's horrible! They just abandoned their citizens?" You gasped, eyes wide with shock.

"One by one the cities became desolate. Yathe is, from what we know, the only standing safe city. When the population became crammed into this last safezone those fucking Vorderans swept in and raided every nook and cranny they could. We went from 500,000 people to a mere maybe...20,000?"

"Vorderans?" You hummed. "The people of Vulia? Capital Planet for Fanet IV? Why did they do that?"

Jungkook scoffed. "Why would I tell you? So you can report it back to the Humans and they can take what's left of an already dying people? We're a doomed species — pushed to the brink of extinction over greed and classicism. Why do you think we kill any outside official that comes here, huh?"

"W-We just...everyone just said Heajix were very...private," You muttered, a little startled by his aggressive attitude.

"Yeah they would," He spat. "They don't want to have to explain the complete genocide and decimation of a planet they spearheaded."

"Did you say kill?" You suddenly whispered, brain catching up to what he’d previous confessed.

"Of course, any foreign person who comes to us...after we warned the Embassy to leave us alone...they sign their own death warrant," He said, absolutely no remorse in his voice.

"Is that why that guy broke in?" You asked, which he nodded at.

"Yeah, you were targeted by him even though it wasn't even discussed," When he heard you hum in confusion. "We may not have people in high positions telling us what to do but we do maintain some order. Any foreign person who comes here is watched and if they're deemed a threat we take them out. So far...every person has proved themselves to be so. But you...we hadn't caught you doing anything other than trying to survive and hide so we voted to leave you alone."

"So why did that guy—"

"He went off the deep end I guess, didn't trust you and wanted to take you out on his own terms to be safe. He'll be punished and dealt with appropriately," He said, pulling his sleeves of his sweatshirt up to show a wide expanse of tattoos written in a foreign text. "All criminals after punishment are made to have a tattoo on their skin detailing the nature and severity of the crime. It's kind of like a way to shame us for behaving that way. It’s a little piece of our culture we’ve maintained even after the fall."

You leaned closer, looking over the intricate text that was displayed. He had a handful from what you could tell.

"I take it you're not going to tell me what your crimes are?" You asked, unsurprised when he yanked his sleeve down harshly.

"What the hell happened to your arm?" He suddenly asked, changing the subject, eyes pinned to your arm.

When you looked down to follow his gaze, you were shocked to see a nasty purpling bruise around your elbow.

"I have no idea," You muttered. However, he grabbed your wrist and you gasped, attempting to yank yourself away. "That hurts, you know! Jeez, why are you so rough?"

"Rough?" He scoffed. "I'm barely even touching you!"

"Well, you've got a twisted concept of gentle," You muttered, rubbing your now sore wrist. "Oh."

"What?" He grumbled, pouting at having been chewed out by you.

"It's where you grabbed me yesterday," You muttered. "Jeez I knew you were rough but..."

"I wasn't that rough..." At the tone of his voice, you looked up and saw him frowning. He lightly ran his fingers over the bruise. "I didn't meant to hurt you."

"I..." You were shocked by how upset he seemed over it, showing actual concern. "It's okay...it'll heal. J-Just be more careful next time, okay?"

"I didn't realize how easy you are to hurt," He muttered, still staring at your bruise. "You're a delicate race, huh? I'll be more careful, I promise."

You smiled at him and nodded. His lips twitched upward in his own smile and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

The following day, Jungkook stood before you with a backpack on his shoulders. His mask was in place and he looked at you where you sat on his couch.

"When I leave, lock the door behind me," He ordered you, watching as you quickly nodded your head. "And don't open up until you're sure it's me, got it?"

"Got it," You replied, feeling anxious over the situation.

His boots stomped against the floor as he walked to the door, casting one strong glance at you over his shoulder before walking out and slamming it shut. You quickly raced over and slid the latch lock in place and twisted the deadbolt while he locked the knob. Left alone in the silence, you felt extremely uncomfortable.

You looked around, eyes falling on the door to Jungkook's bedroom. Debating for a moment, you decided he'd probably be gone long enough for you to have a peek.

Pushing the door open, you were pleased at how nice it smelled — Jungkook's clean scent permeating from every inch.

As you stepped inside, you noticed a pile of old, worn books in one corner. He had a table beside his bed with a picture frame on it. Taking a seat on his mattress, you grabbed the frame and examined it. There was a picture of Jungkook, albeit a bit younger, standing with a man and woman on either side of him and behind him a taller man who looked similar to Jungkook.

You opened the drawer of his table, having to pull hard as it seemed to be off the track. It was empty inside aside from a paper you couldn't read and a bottle of lotion. Humming, you simply pushed the drawer back closed and looked around the room some more.

Deciding there was nothing else worth looking at, you stepped out of his room and shut the door. Boredom struck immediately and you dropped down onto the couch and curled up.

The least you could do is take a nap.

Your rest didn't last long because you were startled awake by violent knocks on the door. From outside, you could hear Jungkook calling your name. Jumping to your feet, you scrambled to unlock the door and let him in. He sounded so panicked that your hands were shaking by the time you slid the latch lock open.

Jungkook burst in the second the door was open and promptly fell to the ground with a groan. You shut the door and shakily locked it again before turning to him.

"J-Jungkook? What happened?" You crouched down and helped him pull his backpack off.

He winced, making a hissing noise the second he was made to move. You gasped, noticing the way that he was holding his side — red seeping through his fingers.

"Oh my god, what happened?!" You cried, hands hovering above him not knowing what to do.

"J-Just a stupid accident," He groaned, the back of his head hitting the floor harshly when he tossed it back. The impact didn’t seem to bother him. "Was chasin' some animal and I fell. Caught myself on some scrap metal on the way down."

"Holy crap, how bad is it?" You urged him to move his hand so you could see his wound.

The metal had torn a hole in his shirt and you could see a deep gash across his ribs. There was blood gushing from it and you were worried about the possibility of infection.

"It needs to be cleaned and probably stitched, Jungkook," You muttered, watching him put his hand back over it to slow the bleeding.

"I don't have t-to clean it or stitch it," His eyebrows were drawn together and his jaw was clenched in pain.

"I have a first aid kit in my backpack," You stood up quickly, ignoring his protests, dashing over to where your backpack was leaning against the wall.

Zipping it open, you began to fish through your belongings searching for the little white box. You pulled out a towel, deciding it might be good to help clean him up some. You made a soft sound when you finally spotted the kit, pulling it out and holding it up in triumph.

Sitting beside Jungkook again, you helped him remove his shirt. There were a few tattoos and scars scattered along his chest and abdomen but you didn't have time to ogle at his naked body. You pressed the spare towel against his wound and apologized as he hissed in pain. His hand was covered red in blood — some of it having dripped down his wrist to his elbow. You noticed that his mask was gone as well.

"Okay, I'm going to put some antiseptic on it alright?" You asked, pulling the towel off slightly. "It's going to burn like...really bad but—"

"Just do it," He groaned. "Nothing can top this pain right now."

You sighed and ripped open an alcohol wipe. The second it touched the wound, Jungkook's entire body jerked and he let out a sharp word in his mother tongue that you assumed was a cuss. In another situation, you would have laughed at the reaction. Next, you cleaned it with some hydrogen peroxide, making sure to flush the wound as best you could.

"Wh-Where did you learn to do this?" He asked, voice tight with pain.

"Well...I have just basic knowledge from things I've seen on like TV and..stuff like that. So I don't actually know if I'm doing it right or not," You whispered. "But the point is it's getting cleaned, right?"

"Shit, I guess you're right," He mumbled, eyes focused on the ceiling above him.

"I-It's still bleeding, it really will need stitches...it's so deep," You whispered, watching as blood continued to seep through.

"Can you do it?" He asked.

"I don't know...the only thing we can do is try, right?" You were lucky you had a full first aid kit, complete with a sterile needle and thread.

It was quite dark and you had to lean close to see the edges of the wound. You took it slow, apologizing to Jungkook whenever the needle pierced the torn skin. Little by little, the wound was closed until you managed to tie a tight knot to ensure the stitches wouldn't open back up.

Sitting back, you let out a sigh of relief. "I have some pain medicine," You said, taking out a few tablets of Ibuprofen from the first aid kit.

"Thanks," He popped them in his mouth, wincing as he had to swallow them dry.

Then was a big sigh, his body finally relaxed against the floor. He blinked slowly, as if he was struggling to stay awake. You assumed his adrenaline rush crashed and he was growing tired — no doubt exhausted from the adrenaline crash.

"This is insane," He mumbled suddenly, voice sounding slurred.

"What is?" You questioned.

"Before I would just think of getting myself home safe and that'd be the end of it," His lashes fluttered as he fought the sleep that threatened to overtake him. "But this time...all I could think was that I had to get back to you so you would be safe. Unbelievable."

You couldn't help but smile, though he missed it as his eyes finally closed. In a matter of moments, his breathing evened out and you knew he fell asleep.

Right on the floor.

Chuckling, you shook your head and wandered to his bedroom to pull the blanket off his bed — just a thin throw blanket and one of his pillows. You returned to him and carefully, doing your best not to wake him, placed the pillow beneath his head and the blanket over his body.

Your own exhaustion seemed to catch up to you and you curled up on the couch, your own eyes shutting as you stared at Jungkook's sleeping form.

When you woke up, it was on your own. You saw Jungkook was still asleep and sighed. Quickly pulling yourself up, you wandered over to him. Sitting down, you peeled the blanket off of him. You moved his arm off his chest so you could look at his wound but you let out a harsh gasp at what you saw. Jungkook's eyes immediately popped open and sharply turned to look at you.

"What is it?" He asked, body relaxing when he realized it was just you.

"Y-Your wound..." You leaned down to get a closer look, looking at your uneven stitching over the red skin.

"What about it?" He hummed, looking down to take a look at himself.

"It's healed up..." Beneath the stitches, the skin was still reddened but there was no sign of the open wound that was once there. Just a puffy looking scar was left in its wake.

"Oh good," He sat up and stretched his arms — his joints popping at the action, making him groan. "Hand me my backpack, yeah?"

"What do you mean good?! Yesterday you were bleeding out on the floor a-and now you're acting like it's just okay?!" You cried, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He stared at you for a moment, looking confused before sighing. He rolled over and grabbed his backpack, pulling it into his lap and digging through.

"Eat something and then we'll talk, okay?" He pulled out a bar of something and when you opened it, it resembled a granola bar but was much softer.

When you took a bite, you were surprised that it tasted like meat. But it wasn't bad. Jungkook pulled out his own and quietly began eating. It was silent between the two of you, as you simply ate. Before long, you were finished and Jungkook simply threw the wrappers into his backpack.

"Now will you tell me?" You muttered, raising a brow when he sighed.

He stood up and moved over to the couch, leaving you kneeling beside his makeshift bed. He sat down and looked at you expectantly, making you rise to your feet and stumble over to sit beside him.

"I guess there's no reason to hide it," You scanned over him as he spoke, taking the opportunity to look over his body again. He was fit, no doubt, with faint abs and lovely, veiny forearms.

"So you have super healing abilities?" You asked quietly.

"We...our species produces a chemical naturally that can heal virtually anything," He explained. "It's in any fluid we excrete; even sweat. And it's in our blood, obviously."

"That's amazing..." You whispered, eyes drifting back to his wound. "Why did you let me take care of it if you knew it was going to heal up?"

"I...Because the other planets use us for it," He muttered, fists clenching. "Do you remember what I told you? About the Vorderans?" You nodded and he continued, "They...collected us for the chemical. They produce the highest quality super medicine in the solar system. And it's because they slaughtered thousands of us to get it."

"So...you didn't trust me to tell me?" You asked, though there was no tone to indicate you were trying to guilt him.

"No," He sighed. "But since you did take care of me...I figured I could at least give it a try, right?"

"Thank you, Jungkook," You smiled. "I'm really happy you're okay, you know. I was really worried. Without you, I'd be doomed here."

"That's very true," He smirked, relaxing into the couch. "You're absolutely helpless!"

"Hey!" You pouted. "You could teach me, you know?"

"Teach you how to survive out there?" He asked, nodding his head towards the door. You nodded and he shook his head. "You're too much of a target. I wouldn't be able to handle looking after you and trying to scavenge."

"I guess that's true," You muttered. "I just don't want to be a burden. You went out of your way to help me and I've done nothing in return for the fact you keep helping me."

He wore a frown as he looked at you. "You're not a burden. In fact, I actually appreciate having you around."

"You do?" You asked, your heart stuttering in your chest as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.

"Yeah," He smiled. "I hadn't realized how lonely I was. But with you here now, I feel a lot...happier. Lighter. It feels nice to not be alone."

"I...I'm happy I can make you feel that way, Jungkook," You whispered, meeting his eyes.

The two of you sat like that in silence. You felt a soft brush of Jungkook's fingers on your hand and he easily laced his fingers through yours.

You felt content; happy even.

You were curled up on the couch, unable to sleep through the howling sound of the wind outside. Rain was pouring down and the thunder was so loud your ears were ringing. Clouds blocked out the moon, blanketing you in complete and total darkness.

It was cold, Jungkook still hadn't given you a blanket and you were beginning to think he forgot. The storm had brought the temperature down drastically, leaving your teeth chattering in effect.

The storm was unlike anything you'd experienced on Earth. It was actually a bit scary.

You sat up, finally unable to take it anymore. There was no reason for you to suffer like you were.

You tiptoed over to Jungkook's bedroom and suddenly hesitated. You didn't want to wake him up for a silly blanket, you'd feel bad. Your shoulders sagged and you turned back to sit back down on the couch.

Somehow, you managed to doze off, curled up in a ball in an attempt to keep warm.

You were awoken very soon after by the weight of something warm being laid upon you. Eyes fluttering open, you met Jungkook's eyes. His brows were furrowed and when he saw you were awake, knelt down beside the couch.

"You're freezing, why didn't you ask me for a blanket?" He whispered, mindlessly tucking the blanket around you.

"I-I didn't want to wake you," You mumbled, voice wobbly from shivering.

"Don't worry about that," He grumbled. "I'd rather you wake me up than fucking freeze to death during a storm."

"I'm sorry," You whispered, eyes fluttering again as you finally warmed up. It felt so cozy beneath the blanket and it smelled just like Jungkook. "Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't worry about it," He whispered, brushing some stray hair off your face as your eyes closed once again.

"It's my duty to take care of you now," He uttered once he was sure you were asleep.

The first time you noticed something was wrong was when you began to get dizzy randomly — usually accompanying a roaring headache. You ignored it, however, choosing to nap off the headache and continue your days on like usual.

Jungkook began going out for scavenging more and more — bringing home killed rodents and other animals. Sometimes he would come home with some rations or a snack from when the world was a functioning metropolis.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked one morning while the two of you ate some breakfast you prepared.

"Huh?" You looked up from your plate at him.

He was gazing at you, brows furrowed as usual but his head was cocked to the side. "You just look really dazed. And you're barely touching your food."

"Ah, I just..." You cleared your throat. "I lost my appetite, I guess."

"Well, I'm going to go out again today," He said, eating the last of what was on his plate. "I'll be back tonight as usual, alright?"

"Yeah, be careful okay?" You whispered, watching as he hesitated staring at you.

He lifted his hand and placed it softly on your head, smiling.

"I'll see you soon."

Left alone, you ate as much of the food as you could before you had to toss it. You found yourself laying on the couch once again, feeling sluggish and lazy. Deciding a nice nap was in order, you let your eyes flutter shut.

When you woke back up, it felt like you were hit by a bus. You groaned, your head pounding making you whine. Sitting up proved to be a bad move as you felt your stomach turn. Immediately you let yourself flop back down.

Of course you'd get sick on a dystopian planet with no access to medicine.

The hours ticked by and there was no sign of Jungkook. You'd gotten accustomed to his schedule and the general time frame you both ran in so you knew he was well overdue for his return.

You became antsy, pacing around and taking naps when you could. The cold you'd acquired seemed to only get worse as you were plagued with an unfortunate fever. Hiding under your blanket didn't help and being out from the blanket didn't help either. You whined, knowing you didn't have any medicine to help break your fever.

Feeling crappy and concerned about Jungkook made tears sting your eyes; you were always a cry baby when sick.

The door opening finally is what woke you up. Jungkook grumbled, slamming the door.

"Why the hell wasn't the door properly locked?" He snapped, dropping his bag on the floor with a bang.

"Hey...that's loud," You whined, flinching at the way your head began to pound.

"Answer me—hey...what's the matter?" He asked, losing his anger for concern.

"I'm sick," You complained, watching as he kneeled down.

"Sick?" He mumbled, looking over your face — noticing your glassy eyes.

"I have a fever," You explained with a sigh.

He hummed, bringing his hand up to press his palm against your forehead. He hissed, pulling back and sighing.

"I was so scared you weren't coming back, you were gone so long," You whispered, shakily sitting up.

Jungkook's hands hovered in the air, ready to help or catch you if you fell. "I'm sorry, I went a little further than I usually do. But I was only gone overnight. It wasn't that long."

"It felt like days," You whined, tears stinging your eyes.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing some hair away from your eye. "I didn't mean to upset you so much."

"It's okay, I'm just...a crybaby," You muttered, cheeks flushing at the fond smile that crossed Jungkook's face — a cute bunny-like smile.

"I...can help you feel better, if you'd let me," He asked, moving to sit beside you on the couch. "My species can cure illnesses, remember?"

"How will you do that?" You asked, voice a little slurred.

"Well..." In the moon's illumination, you could see his ears burning red. "I...I can kiss you?"

Your mind blanked at those words, blinking several times to take in what he said. You recalled what he said about his saliva, or any fluid, possessing the chemical to cure illnesses. Still, despite the fact it was for medicinal purposes, your stomach fluttered with butterflies and your heart stuttered in your chest the idea of kissing him.

"I-I don't mind..." You uttered, subconsciously licking your lips.

He cupped your cheek, leaning down and ever so softly brushed his lips against yours. When you sighed happily at the contact, he surged forward and pulled you into a much deeper kiss. Your lips moved in unison and you couldn't help but reach up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Shuddering, you held in a whimper when his tongue met your lips. You eagerly opened your mouth, shuddering as the taste of him lingered upon your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his hair as you continued to deepen the kiss.

After several long, lovely seconds of the kiss — he finally pulled away. There was a small strand of saliva still connecting the two of you. He brushed his thumb across your lips, breaking the strand.

The two of you sighed, falling silent but he kept his hand on your cheek.

"You should rest now, you'll feel better soon," He whispered, standing up and stepping away.

You missed his touch immediately, and watched him until he disappeared behind his bedroom door.

You curled up under the blanket, fingers pressed to your lips as the feeling of him kissing you lingered. The way your heart began to race made you sigh heavily; what an effect he had on you.

The next day, you were feeling much better and were back to eating properly. You could tell Jungkook was happy; he was positively beaming and smiling at you every chance he got.

It was cute.

The two of you were playing a card game; using some cards you'd had in your bag for when you were bored on the trip through Fanet IV. You were teaching him Earth games and how to play.

You were just about to beat him for the 5th time at Go Fish when there was a heavy knock on the door. Both of you jumped and Jungkook was on his feet in a second.

His whole body was tense and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He carefully moved in front of you, shielding your body from the door subconsciously.

"Wh-What is it?" You asked, keeping your voice low.

"No one should come here," He whispered back. "Go hide in the bedroom, alright?"

"But Jungkook—"

"Just do it!" He snapped, giving a gentle push to your back to urge you into the open doorway.

You spared him a longing glance before he pulled the door shut with a soft click.

You took a seat on his bed, listening through the thin walls as Jungkook's heavy footsteps moved towards the door. There was a loud click as he unlocked the deadbolt.

There was a quick beat of silence before a slam so loud that you had to cover your mouth to keep from shrieking.

"Fuck! What the fuck are you doing here?!" You heard Jungkook shout.

"Followed you home," Came a gruff, almost bored-sounding reply. "You weren't very smart. Didn't even notice you were being tailed."

"Fuck," You heard Jungkook swear.

"Now, I hope you make this easy for me and just come along nicely," The stranger asked. “Maybe if you tell me where more are hiding, I'll go easy on you.”

Jungkook didn't offer a reply but you could hear heavy boots approaching the bedroom door. You kept your hands over your mouth to keep from making a peep as you slid off the bed and huddled yourself into a dark corner.

The stranger suddenly shrieked and there was a heavy thud of someone falling to the floor. Jungkook let out a string of curses before there was a crash, grunting and scuffling filling your ears.

What was going on?

From where you hid, you could see a little box beneath Jungkook's bed. As quietly as you could, you pulled it out and opened it up.

It was an array of several different knives. Eyes flicking over to the door, you hatched an idea to hopefully help.

If Jungkook didn't win, the man was going to take him away. The mere thought of that happening sent a spark of terror through you.

Picking up the biggest knife that was in the box, you tiptoed over to the door. You could still hear the two of them fighting, the sound covering up the soft click of the door opening. Peeking through the crack, you were shocked to see the table smashed completely. The man was pinning Jungkook down by his throat. Jungkook was struggling, obviously unable to get air. The stranger laughed mockingly down at him.

Your hands and knees were trembling as you quickly crept out.

"You barely even put up a fight," The stranger spat at Jungkook. "You Heajix never were able to take us on though, isn't that right? That's why we were able to kill so many of you! Such incredible strength yet still unable to protect yourselves. Pathetic.” 

You couldn't even register his words as you finally stood behind him. Jungkook's eyes were fluttering and he was dangerously close to passing out.

Steeling yourself, you raised the knife overhead and brought it down as hard as you could. The man shrieked so loud that your ears were ringing. The knife was stuck in his back, buried more than halfway through. Part of you felt proud for putting the power behind the attack.

Jungkook let out a desperate gasp, finally getting the oxygen he desperately needed. While you were distracted looking at Jungkook, the strange man spun around and grabbed you by your throat.

"I knew there was someone else here," The man snarled, squeezing your neck as hard as he could.

You couldn't even make a sound of pain as your feet were lifted off the ground. Your vision was swimming but you could make you Jungkook getting to his feet. The man, you noticed, had strange glowing eyes — as if a light were coming from behind them and illuminating the whites.

In the blink of an eye, Jungkook ripped the knife from your assailants back — making him drop you in shock. You hit the ground hard, knocking what little air you had left in you right out.

Jungkook was on the man before he could even blink, stabbing him several times until he was on his knees. Jungkook paused, chest and shoulders heaving as he glared down at the man.

Then, you watched with wide eyes as Jungkook lifted his leg and kicked the man so hard his body physically flew back. The man was limp, blood dripping from his mouth and nose — eyes open and unseeing.

"Holy shit..." You whispered from where you were still laying on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Jungkook asked, helping you sit up with a gentleness that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His hands were coated in the intruders blood but you didn't mind.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you knocked him down on his butt. You hugged him tight, sighing when you felt him wrap his own arms around you.

"I-I didn't know what to do," You whispered. "He was saying he was going to take you away. I saw you were about to pass out and I knew he would take you. I'm sorry I got involved."

"Hey, it's okay," Jungkook pulled back and smiled. "You saved me! Maybe you aren't as helpless as I thought."

You smiled, shaking your head. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. He froze for a fraction of a second but quickly cupped the back of your head and returned the kiss.

When you parted, you asked, "So what do we do with him?"

"The Vorderans are going to come looking for him when they notice he's not reported back to them," Jungkook mumbled, looking over his shoulder at the body. "I'll take him out somewhere and dump him off where they won't be able to link it to me."

"You're going to leave right after that?" You asked, your shoulders slumping.

"I shouldn't be gone long, _____," He smiled, brushing his thumb over your pouted lips.

"But what if there are more of them? What if they take you away and I don't even know!"

As if sensing the panic in your voice, he cupped your cheeks and brought your gaze to him.

"That won't happen," He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead — sending your heart into painful palpitations. "It'll be easier to hide out there and easier to lose them if they do find me. I promise, I'll come back and everything will be okay."

"I'm just...scared, Jungkook," You admitted, feeling your eyes burn.

"I know," He sighed, pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your cheeks immediately felt like they were on fire. "But I would never leave you like that."

You clung onto him as long as he allowed you before he decided it was best to get going. He told you to hide in his room until he got back and to just rest.

"Don't open the door," He warned, though he already knew he didn't have to worry about that.

Left alone, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You'd watched Jungkook lift the body like it was nothing — which only reminded you of what the Vorderan has said; Heajix just had incredible physical strength.

You had a much better concept of time since you weren't sick and you were sure 2 days had passed since you'd last seen Jungkook. You could barely sleep, anxiety plaguing every second that he was gone.

You'd taken to sleeping in his bed, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. Thankfully, Jungkook had managed to stock up on food so you were able to properly eat in his absence. Though it was more a mechanical task to pass the time than it was for actually sustaining you.

It hadn't occurred to you how much he had changed until you were laying in his bed one night. You thought back to the rough, cold exterior he had when you first met him. And now you were blessed with his smile and comforting caresses.

He made your heart ache in the best way and you wanted to hold him and have him kiss you over and over again. He was so sweet and did his best to take care of you.

You'd really been lucky that he was around when he was that night.

The fact he hadn't returned didn't help quell the fears of more Vorderans being around just waiting for someone to come around. For a Heajix to take away.

You didn't think you would hate an alien planet over the sake of another alien race but you knew the Heajix had been treated unfairly. It was cruel and the fact it was just allowed to happen and no one cared really made you angry.

If you ever got back to Earth you were going to do something to help.

You were lost thinking about the things you could do to help when the front door clicked open.

A spark of fear went down your spine as you sat straight up in the bed. Through the door and walls, you could hear heavy footsteps moving around.

They moved to the door and paused. You held your breath, pulling the covers up to your chin as you watched the door creak open.

A black head of fluffy hair popped in and smiled when he saw you sitting there.

"I was wondering where you—!" He was cut off by you flying off the bed and throwing yourself into his arms.

"You're home!" You gasped, burying your face in his neck. You didn't bother fighting the tears that tumbled down your cheeks.

"Yeah..." You could hear the smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around you, fisting the back of your shirt tightly as if you would slip away. "I'm home."

"I was so worried and..." Your cheeks burned before you muttered, "I missed you."

Reaching up, he cupped both your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him. You leaned into the feeling of his touch on your skin as he wiped your tears away ever so carefully. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

"I missed you too," He smiled, pecking your lips again. "But I'm back just like I promised I would be. I told you I'd never leave you, right?"

"You're right," You whispered, moving forward to kiss him again. He eagerly reciprocated and you whined into his lips.

He gripped your hips, rough and harsh. You winced, pulling your lips away slightly only for him to chase them — muttering a soft apology before relaxing his grip.

Neither of you wasted time moving to the bed. With your back pressed against the mattress and his wide shoulders above you, you couldn’t help the shiver running down your spine.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down for another kiss.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” He breathed against your lips.

“Please,” You whispered, reaching down to tug at the hem of his dirty shirt.

“So pretty when you beg,” He growled, sitting up on his knees to pull the shirt off.

Immediately, your hands were roaming across his chest — grazing over scars and tattoos.

He groaned when your fingers brushed over his pebbled nipples. Leaning down, he nipped against the sensitive skin of your neck. As you sighed in pleasure, he began to push your own shirt up until he was able to toss it away.

Sitting up, he let out a curse at the sight of your bare breasts. One large hand cupped one, thumb rolling the nipple harshly until you whimpered. His lips moved down your neck to take the other nipple into his hot mouth, tongue flicking the bud. Your hands wound into his hand, back arching to get more of the delicious feeling.

“Jungkook, please…” You whined, arching your hips upwards. “I-I want you so much.”

“Yeah?” He groaned against your breast, moving to take your other perked nipple into his mouth. “Who would have figured I’d already have you begging?”

“I missed you so much, Jungkook,” You whined, sniffling softly as the emotions came rushing back. “I need you to touch me, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispered, leaning back up to peck your lips.

In one swift move, your pants were tugged down your legs until you were left in just your panties. He hummed cupping your heat through the fabric, easily finding your clit and pressing against it. You sighed, head rolling back as you ground your hips down into his touch. Unable to take it, you reached down and tugged your panties off. He allowed you, watching as you kicked them away and spread your legs for him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, dropping onto his stomach between your legs. “So pretty and wet.”

Your legs trembled as he slid two fingers between your folds, spreading them to expose your leaking entrance. He groaned, low in his chest before quickly diving in to catch some of your arousal on his tongue. You sighed, eyes fluttering close as he swirled his tongue over your clit.

“Ah, Jungkook!” You cried, gripping his hair.

“Fuck,” He growled, pulling back slightly. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“G-Gentle,” You whined, gripping his hair tighter. “It’s sensitive.”

He didn’t respond, simply chuckled before diving back in. He took your clit into his mouth and sucked until your back arched. Soon, he introduced his fingers — easily sliding two in. There was a slight burn but it lasted only a second.

“You can take 3, right?” He chuckled, rolling his tongue over your clit. “You’re gonna need that many to even think of trying to take my knot.”

“Kn-Knot?” You gasped, unable to wrap your head fully around his words as he pumped the two digits in and out.

Your hips bucked when he hit your g-spot. Your eyes rolled as he continued to abuse the spot while playing with your clit in any way he could.

“I’m gonna cum soon, Kook,” You whined, unaware the pet name had slipped through your lips.

He growled, viciously pounding his fingers upwards and suckling your clit into his mouth. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your stomach. Opening your eyes, you looked down to see his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He looked like he was in utopia himself.

What broke the cord, however, was when he eased the third finger into you. You gasped, back arching as you cried out his name — cumming around the digits. He didn’t stop, fucking your spasming hole and sucking on your twitching clit throughout your entire high until you were whining and pushing him away.

He separated his mouth from you with a lewd pop and slid his fingers out. You felt empty, clenching around nothing as he popped his cum soaked fingers in his mouth. His eyes rolled back at your taste and he chased what was left on his lips until there was nothing left of your cum.

He stood at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them slide to the floor until he could step out of them. He wasn’t wearing any underwear and you nearly drooled at the sight of his hard cock— weeping at the flushed, red tip with a soft swell at the base of his cock.

You scooted forward on your knees, wrapping your hand around his shaft and leaning forward to slide your tongue of the slit. He sighed, head falling back on his shoulders as you took the thick head on your mouth and sucked. The taste of his precum was delectable — salty-sweet with a bitter tang.

“You’ll make me cum too fast with your pretty lips on me like that, baby,” He whispered, gripping your hair to pull you away.

You whined at the loss but let him urge you onto your back. Your feet hanging off the end of the bed and Jungkook standing at the end with a fist wrapped around his cock made you lick your lips. He looked so powerful standing over you like he was.

“Scoot back,” He ordered, crawling onto the bed after you.

With your head in the pillows, you spread your legs for him. Knees on either side of his waist, you both looked down to watch as he slid the head of his cock between your wet folds — coating himself in your juices. A split second of hesitation as he positioned his tip at your entrance felt like an eternity.

“Are you sure you want to…?” He asked softly, mindlessly slapped your clit with the head of himself. 

“Please,” You gasped, wrapping your hand in his hair to tug him down.

Your mouths simultaneously fell open as he pressed inside, the fat head spreading your walls open. The sound was wet as he sunk inside, dirty and obscene. Your eyes rolled back as he finally bottomed out — the base of him almost as thick as his head.

He dropped down onto his elbows beside your head, pulling you in for another kiss as he began to thrust in and out of your clenching walls.

Every time he sunk inside, he grazed your g-spot making you moan.

“So fucking tight,” He growled. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to take my knot, babygirl.”

“K-Kook—”

“Fuck!” He snarled, cock twitching at the sound of the nickname, slamming his cock into you harshly, making you whined. “Keep calling me that.”

“Kook!” You cried, scrambling to claw at his muscled back.

“I’m gonna knock you up, beautiful,” He breathed, chuckling when he felt you clench around him. “Oh? You like the sound of that? Tell me.”

“Pl-Please kn-knock me up, Kook,” You begged, voice breathy as you fought back sobs of pleasure.

“Yeah, sound so pretty begging for my cum,” He chuckled, reached down to find your swollen clit. “How about you cum for me first?”

Your mouth fell open as everything became even more intense. He didn’t stop the rapid circles on your clit until you were crying out his name and arching. You gushed around him, walls spasming uncontrollably as he fucked you through the high.

As you came down, everything became more intense and sensitive. Every time he sunk inside, the base of his cock would catch at your entrance and stretch you just a tad more. You clung to him, eyes closed as he fucked his knot into your sensitive walls.

“I’m gonna cum,” He warned, suddenly pausing balls deep — his knot popped into your walls, swollen big enough that he couldn't pull back out.

You could feel his cock as it pulsed inside of you — a hot rush of cum immediately following. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he moaned and trembled above you. The knot at the base of his cock throbbed — urging more and more cum out of his cock.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at your swelling tummy — having been stuffed full of his cum that couldn’t escape around his knot.

Your cunt clenched around him and you whined. You felt so full but it felt so good.

Jungkook's nimble fingers found your clit and began to circle the hardened bud in brutal circles. With a dark smirk on his lips, he met your gaze where your eyes were wide and your mouth was open in a silent moan.

"That's it...give it to me, baby," He ordered, grinding his hips against you — his knot and cock stirring your sensitive walls up. “Cum on my knot for me, like a good girl.” 

Your head fell back against the pillow as your back arched. The both of you moaned in unison at your orgasm, the tight squeeze and gush from your orgasm set him off again. Tightening his grip on your hips made you whine but the pain blended into the pleasure as Jungkook's knot throbbed as more cum poured into your already well-filled cunt. Slowly, his body relaxed and he heaved a sigh before beginning to change your positions.

His knot tugged at your walls, making you both hiss. You laid side by side, your head resting on his arm.

As you both caught your breath, you felt his knot slowly shrink until he was able to pull out completely. You whimpered at the gush of cum that followed — oozing out of your stretched entrance and staining the bed beneath you.

He groaned, dropping back onto his stomach between your legs. Feeling embarrassed, you moved to close your legs but his strong hands caught you and forced them back open. You covered your face with your hands and whined as he suddenly slid his tongue across your cum-soaked folds.

Absolutely obscene sounds of him moaning and licking you clean filled the space. Your hips jerked in oversensitivity whenever he brushed over your clit.

Sliding his tongue into your entrance, he caught and swallowed down everything he could reach. Him eating his own cum out of you had your walls clenching again and he chuckled before pulling away.

Pulling your hands away from your heated cheeks, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You whined, circling your arms around his neck as he fed his cum into your mouth for you to swallow.

You moaned at the taste of him, swallowing everything he gave you — continuing to kiss long after you swallowed it. The remnants of his cum lingered on your tongue and on his lips.

Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours and moved to lay on his side beside you once again. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled your body close to his.

The two of you dissolved into a comfortable silence; his fingers tracing random shapes along your skin and you taking in his sweet scent and enjoying the warmth of his arms around you.

You were sitting with Jungkook on the floor in front of the couch. Since the table was broken, the two of you were using the couch as a makeshift table. He had an array of papers and old book across the surface and had been spending the last two days teaching you to read the Heajix written alphabet. It was difficult and you frequently confused letters but Jungkook was patient — and gave you kisses whenever you got something right which was great incentive.

Unfortunately, the relaxing atmosphere was broken by a series of knocks on the front door. Jungkook was on his feet immediately, knife drawn and at the ready.

You stayed back, watching as he approached the door and slowly unlocked it. You watched as he took a deep breath and threw the door open.

"What—" Jungkook was at a loss. There was a man standing at the door with his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"My name is Hakyeon," He said, motioning to his badge. "I work for the Interplanetary Embassy on Earth. We received an Emergency beacon and we've been told the human was here."

"Holy shit! It actually got through?!" You cried, jumping to your feet and running over to the open door. "Why did it take you so damn long?"

Hakyeon looked confused, shaking his head. "We received it only 2 days ago...I was the nearest representative and was tasked with finding you."

"Weird..." You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders. "I guess I can go home now, right?"

"If that's what you wish still, yes," He replied, eyeing Jungkook by your side.

"Um," You cleared your throat. "Your ship will be nearby right?"

"Yes, I'll...wait for you there," Hakyeon said, taking the hint.

The door shut and Jungkook was silent.

"Jungkook—"

"I guess you're leaving, right?" He asked, keeping his eyes down. "There's no logical reason for me to ask you to stay here...it's dangerous and you should be somewhere safe."

"But Jungkook..." You reached forward to touch him but he backed away.

"If I'm honest, ______," He wandered away, leaving you to watch him. His voice was shaky, wobbling with the onslaught of tears. "I really don't want you to go and I know that's selfish! But I really don't think I can be alone again. Especially after finding someone I can actually love."

"Jungkook!" You snapped, making him look at you. You sighed speedily walking up to him and pressing your lips to his before he could back away. "I love you too."

"But—"

"Come with me," You whispered, clutching the front of his shirt in your hands. "Come back to Earth with me. We'll find someone there who will help. The Embassy would be more than willing to assist in the cleanup and protection of Palacios and Heajix. You can speak for everyone here who is struggling to survive and those you haven't."

"You want me to come with you?" He breathed, covering your hands with his. Tears still fell from his eyes but in a matter of seconds, he was smiling and pulling you against him in a hug so tight it knocked the air out of you.

"Of course I do, stupid!" You laughed, hugging him back as tight as you could. "Why would I leave you when you refused to leave me, huh?"

"...I love you," He whispered, giving you another kiss.

"Let's get our things together," You said before the two of you separated.

Jungkook packed his bag with anything important, sentimental or not. You noticed he packed his picture away with a sad smile.

Once the two of you were ready, you took his hand and walked out the door. He paused and looked behind him, at the house he'd been living in for the longest time. The boarded up windows and the water reservoir he'd spent ages perfecting.

You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. He smiled, taking the first step away.

You felt yourself relax against the seat once the two of you were on the craft. Jungkook was gripping your hand tight — it was hurting a bit but you didn't say anything. His gaze was locked on the window, watching as his home planet disappeared from view.

The surface was covered in a green, gaseous layer of pollution and smog that he seemed almost surprised to see. The pollution of the planet was most evident one outside of the planet's atmosphere.

"I'm happy you're here, Jungkook," You whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I am too," He replied, resting his head against yours as he watched the stars and planets pass by until Palacios was out of view.

[sugar-vi421]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 | 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

Bus Ticket.

tw: strong language.

  THE FIRST DAY IN ROSEVILLE

I Close my car door with my keys in hand, you could hear the jingling sound from them as I walk up to the front of the house. The House had looked a bit different than I remembered...there was fresh new paint on the front door and there was no chipping in the wood. I step up on the stairs to porch and to my surprise I didn't hear one creak. Mom must have gotten this place fixed up after Grandma Millie passed, who knows...maybe she wanted to sell it.

I take a breath in, smelling in the scent of cut grass making me want to sneeze a little.

It's kind of weird being back here, now that I've gotten older, I notice the house is a bit creepy, especially since the backyard is a big open space that leads right to the woods.

Grandma Millie told me to never go into those woods and that it was dangerous...

But I was a kid, and I didn't believe her-

"Hey excuse me ma'am!"

I turn around and see a moving service truck parked with the back open and 2 workers in their uniform, I ordered a service due to the fact I had a bunch of boxes, and I didn't feel like going back and forth on a 1-hour drive for a couple of boxes.

It was already 7 pm, and yes I decided to go later in the day because I forgot to pack all my stuff.

"All of your things have already been placed in the house, I just need you to sign here confirming we were here." He said in an annoyed tone basically shoving the clipboard and pen into my hands, I sign on the line, I gave him back the pen and he just walked away.

Rude much.

I went inside and like he said, everything was there. I look around and it looks exactly how I remembered it; I take a step back and I accidentally bump into something-

"Ouch"

-or someone...?

"I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention"- The man just let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of his head,

He was a hot mess.

"Oh no its okay, I was just looking around the house. It looks the same, but the vibe is oddly different?" I smell the fresh paint on the walls, I look around the room one more time and in the corner of my eye I see an outline for a tiny door opening under the stairs.

Strange, that was never there before.

"Yeah, especially with that new guy in town...people think its not safe anymore and I agree. It's a bit weird that you decided to return to Roseville now with everything going on." He said while his smile faded as soon as he mentioned that it wasn't safe.

New guy? Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

"Wait what are you talking about?" If I knew about this, I would've said no and stood up my own parents that evening. I don't care if its mean or whatever you probably said behind that little screen of yours.

He laughed and I just stood there feeling left out which I was, when he noticed I wasn't laughing he slowly stopped smiling.

"You really don't know? I shake my head no and he gripped part of his sleeve, he went to say something but stopped. Almost as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

Been there, but he really needs to start explaining who this guy is.

                              - ??? POV

                              9:54 pm

I rummage through my purse looking for my bus ticket I had just bought earlier,

God, I need a car...

Wow Sabrina, only if you had listened to your sister and took her offer on getting a ride.

But no, of course not.

The bus pulls up and I still can't find my ticket, I stop digging through my bag and look around quickly, I see my ticket on the floor, I run to grab it and as soon as I did, I turned around to see the same bus I needed to get home on leave.

Just my fucking luck.

Groaning I start walking, its about to be 10pm already and I just walked out from this horrible first date, it wasn't even the place that was bad, He didn't even offer to pay...He just said bye and walked out to his fancy car. Hopefully I can walk fast and get home...with a nice warm relaxing bath waiting for me.

The streets were empty, no one is usually out at this time. All I can hear are my heels clicking as my foot hits the ground and the things in my purse moving around when I walk.

Then I hear a pair of footsteps walking behind me, I don't look back however because they are a bit far away and what if they missed their bus like I did?

The footsteps started to get louder meaning they were getting closer.

I turned around to look behind me and I see a man with a hoodie on, I couldn't see his face because he was looking down, but I did see something sticking out of his pocket, it was metal because I can see the light from the streetlamp reflecting off from it but when I saw the back handle connected too it my heart dropped immediately.

This was not happening to me.

Please no.

I quickly turn back around and picked up the pace which I was walking.

But so did the man.

I saw a few lights and see a building up ahead, but I needed to make a turn.

He was getting closer, and my heart was racing faster.

I started to run, I ran and went right, and I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, the building was about 2 blocks away and all the houses I've just past either had for sale signs up or the lights were off.

I slowed down and looked behind me to see the man was gone, I stopped to listen, and he was gone. I sighed out of relief.

I turned back around.

And there he was standing with the same knife I saw earlier, but this time he had on a hooded robe with a rubber white mask with black eyes, nose and mouth all black, the robe was black as well so all you could really see was his mask and the knife he was holding.

I started to slowly walk back, and he walked towards me,

Then I ran.

At this point I'm crying and running for my life in heels, I ran back to where the bus was and decided to go around so I can go to the nearest open building and ask for help.

However this is when my heel decided it didn't want to continue anymore, I tripped as one of the heels on my shoes snapped in half, I got up quickly as I saw the man getting closer as he was walking towards me, I take off the shoes and started to just run but he swinged his knife at me as I got up and slashed me in the arm. As a reflex I hit him with my bag in my other hand making him drop his knife.

He went to look for his knife as it landed somewhere in a bush, and I just took off.

Thank God.

I saw a police station up ahead; from any other view you'd see me just running with my hand on my arm bleeding with no shoes on and messed up hair. I looked crazy.

I got to the doors and opened it just shouting for help, the officers at the front saw me and immediately rushed to my side asking me what happened, and they saw the long cut on my arm and sat me down.

They patched my arm up and gave me some painkillers with a small cup of water. I had no idea of how I was going to get home or when for that matter since they wanted to ask me a few questions about what happened to me.

But I was just glad I was safe now.

"There have been multiple reports of missing persons over just this past month, and sadly the ones who were left have been found dead with numerous amounts of wounds, specifically stab wounds.

Earlier today there was a paper written by Jed Olsen, some of you may have read this paper already today but according to the article this new killer has been revealed with the video surveillance at what seems to be a victim's home, the camera was set by the killer and left there for the police to gather as evidence. The Surveillance shows the victim being stabbed while trying to escape the grasp of our newly town stalker. We have no more information for the killer now being named by the media as..."

...

"The Ghostface."

"Please remember to get home safely, lock all your doors and to be home at 9pm as the police have set a town curfew. We don't want any adults and children getting hurt. Be safe everyone."

I listened in on the news that was playing from the small tv in the corner, everyone's attention was on it and oh my god.

That's him-

I started to shout, and everyone looked at me.

That's the guy who just chased me and tried to kill me...

                                  - Luci's POV

"Wow I had no idea this town had changed from being the perfect place to raise a family into a place where no one is truly safe anymore..." I looked down and my hands just to realize how happy I was to return and now...not so much.

It's really shocking, a serial killer of all things?? Did I jinx myself-

I swear I need to stop doing that.

Even better that I work for the FBI investigating these types of people. How Fitting.

"Yeah, it's a shame really. I must go now but be careful out there! It was nice seeing a fresh face for once." The guy laughed as he walked out, halfway to the truck he looked back and waved and I waved back.

Speaking of serial killers and all of that...I wonder what I'll be working on when I start.

Should be totally unrelated to that stalker guy.

I hate saying stalker guy, he needs a name.

                      A FEW HOURS LATER

                                    10:32pm

I just finished a warm shower after getting all my boxes and bags unpacked and I settled in what used to be my old parent's room for when they used to stay over. I couldn't bring myself to take my old grandmother's room.

I sit at my desk and grab my laptop from my bag, I search up this infamous stalker only to see 12 people found dead either in their homes or in their own office within 2 months.

Wow this guy must have been doing this for a long time before Roseville. Not one clue to who he is except for those cheap videos he sends to the police.

I take out my phone and download an app linked to Roseville news reports so whenever he decides to strike again, I'll know, or for any reason I'll just get the notification. I scroll on random apps on my phone for a few minutes until I start yawning.

I look at the time and it's getting late I should get some sleep.

I put down my phone on the side table next to the bed and put it on the charger, I unfold the blanket I packed with me and set the bed, lifting up one side of the blanket I get under, turning to the side table turning of the lamp and getting in a comfortable position heading to sleep.

1:34 am

Ding!

"23-year-old, Sabrina Madden was found dead in her bedroom by her boyfriend, after reportedly being followed and attacked by a man with a white mask earlier that night. Swipe right to read more."

– ROSEVILLE NEWS.

- an

Finally I got done with this chapter and really I just wanted to point out something that may be a little confusing, when the guy is explaining about this killer that's out and about, the part where this girl getting chased didn't happen yet. To them Ghostface isn't revealed yet and its just been a few people who have been found yk. The chase actually happened when luci is unpacking her things and the notification is later that night so I just wanted to clear that up since I confused myself when re- reading this over lol. ANYWAYS give me feedback if you feel you want to share anything!! <3

TAG LIST :

@infinitewhore @mama-miya @m4gn3ziu @sleepyashe

note to be tagged again <3

[calummss]

Time | Gilbert Blythe

masterlist

summary: time can fix a lot of things if you let it

words: 1.5K

requested by: anon

It’s been six months since Gilbert Blythe left. Six months without the boy you love so dearly. Six months without your friend. Gilbert had made short notice plans only days after his father’s funeral. When John Blythe died it felt like a never ending fog swept across Avonlea. You remember Mr. Blythe from your childhood. He was a very kind man that took good care of you, so when the news of his passing had arrived at your parent’s house you felt a heavy pit in your stomach. You were saddened by his death and couldn’t imagine what Gilbert was going through and sent him a pie the same day, knowing he would have a hard time preparing food for himself. It has been months since you attended the funeral and you remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Y/N dear, make sure to wear your black straw hat.’ your mother called up to your room.

You grabbed your hat and gently placed it on your head not wanting to mess up your curls. You took one last look in your mirror and hurried downstairs to see your father, mother and younger brother waiting for you. You quickly grabbed your shoes and tied them up.

‘I sure hope Gilbert’s okay,’ you spoke into the room feeling uneasy about the next couple of hours.

‘You’ll be able to see for yourself once we arrive.’ your mother said, adjusting your hat. She placed her hands and your shoulder and smiled.

‘Come one now, the carriage is waiting.’ your father announced and opened the door to reveal a coat of snow that painted the countryside. You stomped through the snow and sat yourself to the far left of the carriage as your mother, father and brother followed. The coachman lightly whipped the horse and you were on your way. When you arrived at the Blythe’s family burial site you saw the carriage that pulled Mr. Blythe’s casket towards the hole. You also saw Gilbert leading the line of people. You saw the pain in his eyes. His sparkly brown eyes were now dull, and glossed with his salty tears. His cheerful smile with those dimples you so loved, disappeared and weren’t to be seen. His posture was slouched and his head hanging from his shoulders on a thread. Your family and you respectfully walked up to the crowd that was gathered for a prayer in honour of his father. You saw Anne, Diana, Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Josie, all spread out throughout the crowd. You locked eyes with Anne and gave her a warm quick smile before turning away. When the service was over everyone gathered at the Gilbert House for some tea and conversation. You stood next to your mother, plate in your hands but you weren’t in the mood to eat. You set it aside and walked around the house to look for Gilbert. He probably needed someone to talk to. Once you searched around the house and almost gave up, you saw him outside in the front yard. You grabbed your coat, scarf and hat and rushed down the front steps.

‘Gilbert!’ you yelled after him.

Gilbert turned around with a surprised face, yet his eyes still carried his sadness within.

‘Are you leaving?’ you pushed your hands deeper into your pockets.

‘I can’t stand being in that house. Everyone wants to comfort me but I just want to be left alone.’ he confessed.

His hat draped over his forehead making it hard to make out his facial expression.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked him as he didn’t seem to stop walking.

‘I don’t know, the lake perhaps.’

‘May I join?’

He nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

After some time you arrived at the small lake in the forest you always went to after school in the summer. Everyone would meet up to bathe in the sun kissed water but everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. Today’s occasion was the opposite. You sat on a tree trunk and pulled your gloves from your pockets. Gilbert sat next to you and stared at the frozen water. He found comfort among the empty woods. You felt like giving him alone time and told him that you were going back to the house. That was the last time you saw Gilbert. Days after he packed his things and left on a ship. He left a note with a few details so that Avonlea wouldn’t erupt in fear of a murder or some sort.

During the first three months you would leave letters at Gilbert’s house in case he came back unannounced; just like he left, but you stopped soon after, after you realised that he wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed when a loud thud awoke you. Your eyes were squinted due to the sun rays shining on your face. You got out of bed and started to get ready. Anne would be arriving any minute now. You always walked to school together. It was safer and more fun. When you rushed out of the door you saw Anne waiting on your doorsteps with an extra bottle of milk. You walked to school and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of the doors. Noticing the rest of the girl you walked up to them to ask what was going on.

‘Ruby!’ you called out and saw her spin around with a big smile on her face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Gilbert!’ she cheered loudly.

Your eyes went wide as you stared back at Anne. She had the same look painted across her face.

‘What do you mean ‘Gilbert’?

‘My uncle who works at The White Sands Hotel said that Gilbert passed through the place. Supposedly he was working on a ship!’ Ruby’s face was gleaming with joy. ‘He was covered in coal ashes.’

‘Is, Is Gilbert here? At school?’ you asked intriguingly.

‘I haven’t been inside but I don’t believe so. He’s probably at home.’ Diana chimed in.

You had to see him. You just had to. Knowing he was back and not knowing if he’d part again you ran back towards the forest. You made your way through the foggy woods and ran up to Gilbert’s house. You went up to the door and knocked on the door like your life depended on it. A few seconds later a man, whom you’ve never seen before opened the door.

‘Hello, who are you.’ he said in a strong accent.

‘Is Gilbert here?’

‘Yes, he is.’ the man smiled at you before he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Gilbert! There’s a girl wanting to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just come in.’ you smiled before slipping through the door.

‘Y/N?’ Gilbert sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are you doing here?’ mimicked him.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Gilbert seemed happier than the last time you saw him. His teary eyes were now filled with joy. He seemed...okay, and you didn’t want to take that away from him but he couldn’t just show up and pretend like nothing happened.

‘Why did you leave?’

Gilbert’s back stiffened and shifted onto his other leg. He looked down at the floor not making eye contact with you.

‘Can you at least look at me.’ a hint of disappointment and annoyance coating your words.

‘I needed to get away from here.’

‘You left without a goodbye and you left without telling anyone. Do you know what it feels like? To see your friend leave you behind?’ you raised your voice. ‘You could’ve at least told me. I didn’t know when you were coming back. I thought you left me!’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but I wasn’t in a good headspace and needed distance from this god forsaken town.’ he stormed past you. The man that had answered the door was long gone. Only the presence of the two of you filled the cold house.

‘Distance from me?’

‘I never said that.’ his irritated voice erupted from the back of the pantry.

‘Sounds like it to me!’ you yelled back, angrily stomping after him.

‘Why are you picking a fight with me, Y/N.?’

‘A fight?’ you stared at him in disbelief. ‘Picking a fight with you? I came over because Ruby was swooning over your return and I came here to make sure it was true. To-see-if -my-friend-who-left-me-without-a-trace-of his-existence-came-back!’ you snapped in one breath.

You had enough and quite frankly didn’t know what to do anymore. The person you loved so dearly had hurt you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Gilbert sat down at his wooden table and stared at you for a few seconds before talking.

‘What can I do?’ he said.

‘What can you do? I don’t know, what can you?’

‘Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t want this friendship to end over this.’

‘You think I want this? I’m just upset that you left me if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Please tell me what I can do.’ he pleaded out.

He stood up and took your hands into his. His brown eyes stared into your as your breath hitched.

‘I-I don’t know.’ you confess as you slid your hands out of his and turned your back towards him. ‘Nothing can fix this except time.’

You walked towards the door looking back at Gilbert once more.

‘Time can fix a lot of things if you let it.’

[stusbunker]

Desperate Measures 1

Featuring: Alpha!Dean x multiple partners

Written for: @spnabobingo​​

Square filled: Alpha for Hire

Rating: Mature (Explicit in future chapters)

Word Count: ~2300

Summary:  Dean becomes an Alpha for hire to help keep food on the table while Sam finishes high school. What he finds is a new kind of pack.

Warnings: Talk of sex work, drug use, poverty

SPN ABO BINGO Card

    Dean walks up to the second floor offices with twelve bucks in his wallet and rent due in two days. He’s twenty one and has called this town home for only seven months. But Sam has made friends at school and John’s been less than present the past two months. It’s time to get serious.

    He straightens his shoulders and knocks on the fogged glass. 

    “Come in,” a deep, amused voice replies.

    Dean opens the door, which catches in the frame, aged wood swollen with the summer humidity. He closes the door behind him and finds a simple desk with a middle aged bearded man behind it.

    “You must be Dean!” The guys got some sort of accent, British or maybe just the haughty air of someone who jumped the Atlantic often. “Have a seat.”

    Dean feels like he’s on a stage, so he keeps his eyes down as he nods. At least the chairs in front of the desk look new. The man smells fake, scent blockers and too much cologne. Dean imagines he’s a beta, but can’t understand why he’s hiding it in his line of work.

    Dean waits for the man to continue the interview.

    “So, what brings you into the world of escort services? You don’t seem like the type who can’t keep a 9 to 5 to pay the bills,” the man continues.

    Dean swallows and nods. “Got a brother I’m taking care of too, between the two of us we have done alright working at the Roadhouse, but he goes back to school in a couple weeks and I can’t bank on tourists tips for long.”

    Dean finally sees the nameplate on the desk in front of his face. ‘Crowley MacLeod’ without any title beneath it. This is the big boss he’s talking to afterall.

    “How’d you find out about our little operation?” Dean feels Crowley’s unwavering stare bore into his soul.

    “Pamela?” Dean’s voice cracks and he swallows again. “Pamela’s a regular at the Roadhouse, told me I could make out well for myself with you.”

    “Oh the little mynx. I should really thank her. You are going to fetch such a pretty penny, Dean.” Crowley almost coos. He pulls a file out of the drawer, opens it and flips the contract to face Dean. “This is the base contract, renegotiable after 90 days without incident. I need you to pass a drug test and a physical, we have a clinic that we work with. A few headshots for the website, and then after everything clears we can get you on the schedule.”

    “What sort of screening are you doing?” Dean leans forward to read the fine print.

    “Any boosted hormones, mostly, hard drugs can hinder your performance as well. But we don’t bother ourselves with the occasional indulgence. Sometimes it makes for a better client experience, after all.”

    This all feels like a lot of effort. But then Dean sees his base pay on the middle of the page: $75/hour. He barely makes that in a night at Harvelle’s. He reaches for a pen before Crowley can give him any more hoops to jump through.

    “Atta’boy,” Crowley beams and stands to shake Dean’s hand. Once Dean is in the hallway, directions to the free clinic on Singer St. in one hand, he finally exhales. If John could see him now. 

    He’s done with the health portion of his job application before Sam’s back from his lunch shift. Which means Dean has the car for his closing shift. Ellen never seemed to schedule them at the same time after a fight broke out between some kids with fake ids and the brothers. Sam’s just too honest to work the night crowd.

    Dean still hasn’t told him about the new job.

    Sam crinkles his nose at the smells of hospital Dean brought home with him, but he doesn’t say anything, just eyes his older brother suspiciously. Dean doesn’t take the bait.

    “I’ll be home late, please do the damned laundry? These jeans are on their last leg,” Dean hollers as he fixes his hair in the mirror in the bathroom.

    “You eat? I got some wings,” Sam offers, dropping the foam containers on the table. 

Dean’s stomach growls at the temptation. “I’ll take one for the road,” his desperate compromise.

Pamela’s in her usual spot once Dean gets behind the bar. She smirks and he rolls his eyes. “You didn’t tell me your boss was a total douche.”

“Crowley? Please, he’s harmless,” Pamela purrs, a thirty-something omega, Dean’s probably her favorite bartender these days.

“How long does the medical stuff take to get through? I have off most this weekend and I’d like the hours,” Dean explains as she listens.

“Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days, handsome.”

“Right,” Dean exhales. He nods as a couple approaches the end of the bar and gets to work.

The night is slow without any local teams playing on television. Dean keeps busy hauling things for Ellen and deep cleaning until she cuts him loose just after eleven. His tips are pathetic. But he understands she can’t pay him for a whole shift when there’s no customers to help. 

She sends him home with extra fries and some to go sodas. He’s learned to accept the handouts, but he doesn’t like doing it if anyone else is around. 

He gets home to find Sam hanging their clothes off the kitchen cabinets. He must have run out of quarters for the dryer. With how hot it’s been, they’ll be fine by morning.

Dean hands out their dinner, puts the extras in the fridge for breakfast. They eat in silence. And Dean is out of time. He clears his throat and wipes his hands of the salt from the fries.

“So- I’m starting a second gig this weekend. I’ll probably be working most nights for a while. Gotta show ‘em I’m invested, you know. You gonna be okay?”

Sam takes a pull off his soda, “what is the job?”

“Pamela got me the interview. Gonna be doing more or less what she does,” Dean doesn’t elaborate.

“That’s specific,” Sam snarks. “Are you gonna need the car?”

“Probably, at least at first. I’m not sure if there’s a lot of mileage, but there could be.”

“Dean?” Sam asks softly.

“Yeah?” Dean finishes the rest of his fries, chewing and watching Sam worry.

“You’d tell me if you were doing something dangerous, right? I’m not talking taking only bouncer shifts or something. But something you could get into trouble for, right?” Sam could always read him like a book.

Dean swallows and shakes his soda to see if there’s anything left besides ice. “It’s not like I’m running packages for the mob, Sam. It’s entirely legal.”

Sam looks at him like he doesn’t believe him. 

“I’m serious!” Dean insists.

“Okay,” Sam huffs and flicks Dean’s wrappers back at him over their tiny table.

“Bitch.” Dean snatches the paper and stands to clean up.

“Jerk,” Sam replies, half-heartedly.

    Dean’s first client is a recently divorced omega in heat. She’s almost too nice about everything, and Dean knows when he’s a little too green for her tastes. Donna keeps him for the whole weekend. Feeding him home cooked meals the whole time. He’s able to make two months’ rent his first go.

    It was too good to be true.

    His second client is an angry middle aged omega, who won’t shut up about how pretty Dean is. Makes Dean fuck him in front of the mirror. He feels dirty when he leaves in the middle of the night, but at least he doesn’t have to play house with the bitter guy.

    He has a week with no calls, but it gives him time to catch up with Sam. Work on the car. Work at the Roadhouse. It’s that Sunday afternoon that Pam comes with another omega, Garth, he’s lanky in the way that makes Dean think drug problem, but he only orders a Shirley Temple. 

“So you’re the new guy,” Garth teases, long lashes batting at Dean in an entirely earnest way. Nothing like Pamela’s flirtations. 

“Uh?” Dean looks at Pamela.

“It’s okay, Deano, Garth’s on Crowley’s dime too.”

“Got it,” Dean nods, setting the cherry coated spear on Garth’s glass. “That’s me, the new guy.”

“You coming to Benny’s? Sunday funday for the local chapterhouse,” Garth says it like it’s an olden times ice cream social.

“I hadn’t heard anything about it,” Dean shakes his head. “Besides, gotta get home after this.”

“You a family man, Dean?” Garth asks.

Dean chuckles, “not like that. Got a kid brother at home. You?”

“I have an alpha, but her dad’s a pastor. So, can’t really make anything official until I’m out of the business, if you know what I mean.”

Dean whistles. “Tough breaks, man. Good luck with that.”

“But seriously, Dean, you should come. It’s just games and movies. Sam is more than welcome to tag along. It’s not like we’re having an orgy,” Pamela insists, cocks an eyebrow. “Unless you wanted to, of course.”

Dean considers it, it’s been forever since they’d had someplace to be besides work. Socializing with his new coworkers wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s dragged Sam to. “What should we bring?”

It is with a weird combination of obligation and curiosity that Dean pulls up to the well kept bungalow on the east side of town. Sam’s in the passenger seat, wearing a polo, the nicest thing he owns and Dean’s in his least holey pair of jeans. There’s a grocery store pie on the bench seat between them.

“So, since it’s probably gonna come up. My new job?” Dean looks at Sam with his hand on the door handle. “I’m an alpha for hire. All these people we’re about to meet? Hookers, Sam, so mind your manners.”

Dean crawls out of the car before Sam can complete a thought. Dean laughs at the stunned look on his baby brother’s face, “don’t forget the pie.”

Benny, another alpha that Dean’s seen in passing, opens the front door and welcomes them inside. Sam is shooting death stares at the back of Dean’s head, but Dean’s too distracted with the festivities to reply. The living room is crowded with a half dozen people sitting on the floor, draped over the couches and leaning against the recliner. It’s a really nice place, newer furniture and polished hardwood floors.

Benny introduces himself to Sam, shaking hands with the brothers. 

“Thanks for having us Mr. Lafitte,” Sam says formally.

Benny chuckles. “Ain't you cute? It’s just Benny, boy. We aint that kind of fancy round here.” 

Benny leads Sam to the kitchen with the pie, letting Dean to make his own introductions to the other party goers. Pamela and Garth are taking up one couch, with fellow omegas Anna and Bela on the other. 

“So this is the new stud alpha I’ve been hearing about?” A raspy feminie voice comes from Dean’s left. A petite brunette eyes him dangerously. “Name’s Ruby. Glad you could make it.”

    Dean offers his hand to the female alpha. She shakes it with bone crushing strength. He feels impossibly younger suddenly. 

    “Play nice, Ruby,” Pamela warns. “Gordon’s working the grill if you want to eat, Dean, just through the kitchen.”

    Dean follows where Sam and Benny headed, through the small kitchen and out the backdoor. Benny has a fenced in yard with a rusted truck and camper combo taking up half his driveway. The grill master is also an alpha and probably the oldest person there. Dean feels his spine straighten as he approaches, a natural need to salute or kowtow to the stronger alpha.

Gordon grins at him and continues to flip the various meats on the grill. “Hey, man. I was wondering if you’d show up.” Gordon watches Dean before he continues. “Met your brother, understand why you enlisted. Takes a man to make those kind of sacrifices.”

 Dean shrugs at the compliment. “Just doing it until he graduates, then he’s off to college.”

“And what about you? No higher education ambitions?” Gordon continued.

“I’m just working on getting by— figure I’ve got time to work out the rest.” Dean gives him a company smile and starts building his burger at the picnic table.

Come nine o’clock, they’re driving home with full bellies and packages of leftovers. Dean’s oddly content just listening to the wind whipping over the car until Sam starts on about how Ruby works for one of the local professors and says maybe she could introduce him. 

“Yeah, but you don’t want to stick around here, right? I thought you were looking at big schools to apply to, in places like New England and California?”

“Maybe I’d just use the reference. I don’t know. It was just a thought,” Sam says nervously.

“Hey, whatever works, man. I just don’t want you to limit your options,” Dean offers.

“So, alpha for hire huh?” Dean could hear the smirk in Sam’s voice. Dean had it coming after the bombshell he left on Sam’s lap that afternoon.

“Yup,” Dean replies, unwilling to answer the unspoken questions.

“What’s that like?”

Dean turns his eyes off the road and looks at Sam and all his adolescent awkwardness. “It’s like being a sex doll, Sam. I’m not there to have fun. I’m there to get paid. Sometimes it’s okay, I guess. So far it’s been hit or miss.”

“Oh.” Sam’s teasing is nipped in the bud.

“Yeah,” Dean huffs as shame crawls up his neck. “But, it could be worse. I could be cleaning toilets again.”

Sam remains quiet the rest of the way home.

Part Two

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 3

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including unprotected and oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed the door of his hotel room closed behind him. He was fuming.

Damn!!! Damn, fuck, damn, fuck, fuck, fuck! He stormed across the room and threw himself onto the bed, hands linking behind his head on the pillows, glaring up at the ceiling. Apart from anything else, his male pride was injured - he was an ex-Marine for fuck’s sake! And he’d been outsmarted by a... a.. civilian!!

Lying there for a while, wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Micro couldn’t track her phone this time, and fuck knows where she was headed. Or... had she gone somewhere else? Or just moved to another location in London?

His gut told him she’d gone somewhere else. Those apartments she’d been staying in were for longer-term lets, not just one or two-night stays. Maybe she was using that as a base of operations like he would’ve done in the military. Yeah, he liked the sound of that. He sat up suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening Google Maps. He searched for Wood Wharf and when it listed up, he moved the map around with a finger and within a couple of seconds spotted what he’d been looking for - City Airport.

Billy grinned. He was back on her trail, he just knew it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank jolted awake, and after a few seconds realised that his phone was ringing. He grabbed it, screwing up his bleary eyes as he tried to read the time and who was calling. Shit, it was 1 a.m.! And it was Micro. What the hell?

He accepted the call, hearing Micro’s muffled voice saying, “Frank?” “Yeah, yeah... what’s up, Micro? And you sound like you’re underwater.” There was a slight pause and a swallowing sound, “M’eatin’ a donut. Sorry. Look, Russo’s just texted me again - this time he wants me to search for her on flights outta London City Airport. I said ok... but....” his voice trailed off.

Frank sighed. He hated this, he was stuck slap bang in the middle of all this shit between Billy, Karen and Billy’s girl.

Billy - he could kick his dumb ass for ‘messin’ around’ with Madani. Karen - he really didn’t want to upset his girl. And Billy’s girl - he felt sorry for her that she’d had to put up with Billy’s recent bad behaviour but.... he’d been so relaxed and happy since the two of them got together. So... he’d give his idiot friend a break... but only a small one.

“Yeah OK, Micro, go ahead with what he asked ya to do. Let Russo know once you got an answer for him, then you tell me. And if Karen ever asks, you didn’t call me ‘bout this till a helluva lot later this mornin’. Got it!?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Stepping out of the lift onto the landing of the 20th floor, you were met by a view across the harbour and a symphony in red - carpets, walls, doors.

(My Photos - Dec 2014)

The W was even better than you’d imagined, and as you reached your room and opened the door, you loved the view you got all along the beach from the big picture windows.

After you’d unpacked, you dropped a quick text to Karen just letting her know where you were, then left your room to go and have a walk around the local area, called Barceloneta according to your online guide book.

There was a cooling sea breeze, the sun was shining and you turned your face up towards it.

The W Hotel was right at the far end of the beach, and you had a pleasant stroll along it until you reached a busy street called Passeig Joan de Borbó, which ran parallel to the marina known as Port Vell. You passed several restaurants and decided that you’d have an early lunch in one of them, rather than eating at the hotel. You could have dinner or even room service there later on.

Sitting at an outside table, looking at the yachts moored at the marina, watching all the people strolling by on the wide pavement, sipping at a glass of wine.... you gave a happy sigh and relaxed back in your seat.

Billy would never find you here.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Touching down in Barcelona, Billy watched the airport buildings rushing past as the air brakes were applied and the plane began to slow down. He was impressed with how short a flight it was from London; it was only a few hours since Micro had messaged him with the search results and he was here already.

He made his way through Passport Control and headed for the taxi rank, joining the queue and eventually being waved towards one of the waiting cars by the attendant.

Half an hour later, he was checking into the W. He felt excited, pleased, a thrill of anticipation - he’d caught up with her this time. Now all he had to do was dump his stuff in his room and stake out the lobby until she inevitably showed up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d walked up the full length of Joan de Borbó until you’d reached a new area of town called El Born. There was a lovely park - it had been built over a citadel from long ago when Barcelona had been occupied by invaders - and it was full of narrow little streets and cute artisan boutiques. Stopping for a coffee next to an old market building - the Mercat del Born - which had been converted into a cultural centre, once again you just enjoyed the sunshine and watching the world go by.

You looked around at the beautiful buildings; how lovely it would be to live in an apartment in one of these like the locals did. Most of the buildings had ‘Juliet balconies’, not especially spacious but enough to be able to step out of your apartment, maybe sit and enjoy the fresh air if you had room for a little chair. Some of the balconies had lush green plants in big ceramic pots on them, and you thought that sitting out there in amongst them would be like having your own little cocoon from the outside world.

You had a leisurely stroll through the neighbourhood, taking an interest in the small stores, tapas bars and old buildings. At the far end of the Passeig del Born you admired the huge Santa Maria del Mar, a church which your guide book told you was a fine example of Catalan Gothic. This opinion you agreed with - it was a beautiful church and you ventured inside to quietly look at its impressive yet simple interior.

You came out and turned onto Carrer Montcada, where the famous Picasso Museum was located. Not that you were going to go and check it out - your guide book had given some ‘best times to queue’ and spending time in a line of tourists was not your idea of fun - but you wanted to see if El Xampanyet, a famous tapas bar, was still open so you could have a glass of cava. Unfortunately it wasn’t, it had closed a couple of hours earlier and wouldn’t reopen for another couple. Sighing, you decided to walk along Montcada which would take you to Carrer Princesa, you could walk down it and cut round past the Mercat del Born again, back to Barceloneta and the W.

You were feeling a little peckish and the thought of some chilled cava and something to eat was really appealing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy felt his eyes slowly closing. He shook himself awake behind his newspaper, he couldn’t risk falling asleep but what with his disturbed night’s sleep and then his dash to Barcelona was making even him - an ex-Marine who could function on little or no sleep - feel really fatigued.

Sitting in one of the comfy sofas in reception for the past hour or so was not helping, the quiet hum of voices and people entering and leaving by the revolving doors was soothing him into a drowsy state. The newspaper he’d been pretending to read was in Catalan, totally impenetrable to him so he’d had to resort to just looking at the pictures, not the best at keeping his mind active.

He heard the ‘swoosh’ of the revolving door again, looked up and then froze. It was her!! He peeked round the edge of his paper.

She was heading for the lifts, looking in her bag for her keycard as she walked, she needed to swipe it so she could go up to her floor.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The lift doors opened and you stepped inside, running your keycard over the reader and hitting the button for floor 20. The doors began to close but then suddenly sprang apart again as someone hit the Call button, and you looked up with the usual polite but disengaged smile that people give each other in lifts.

Billy Russo was looking back at you, a small smile on his face as he hit the ‘Close Doors’ button.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She’d shrank back from him as soon as she’d realised it was him. Billy was incredibly hurt by that. He wasn’t going to harm her!!! He reached a hand out towards her but she moved even further away from him, right into the corner of the lift.

He said her name, then, “Sweetheart.... please! Just hear me out. That’s all I want to do - talk to you.” She glared at him, “Talk!! You want to talk? Ha!! And why would I want to listen to you!?” Billy grabbed her, getting her in a bear hug, kissing her hard and hungrily. He could feel her struggling in his arms but then she began to relax the tiniest little bit, so he just kept on kissing her passionately.

There was a ‘ting’ as the express lift reached its requested floor, and the doors opened onto the landing. There were two elderly ladies standing there and as Billy’s lips broke away from hers, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at them as they stared. “Ladies,” he nodded, firmly taking his girl’s arm in his and pulling her along with him as he got out of the lift.

“That’s not talking!!” she hissed at Billy.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were towed along behind Billy until he stopped outside your door. So.... he even knew your room number. Why hadn’t Karen given you the heads-up this time? You were feeling very uneasy. Billy was on a mission, that was clear.

He’d grabbed your keycard while he was kissing you in the lift. Why hadn’t you struggled harder? Because you’d missed him, of course. You didn’t like it, but you couldn’t deny it.

Now he swiped the keycard against the reader on the door, opened it and bundled you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. He let go of your arm and strode into the room past the centre-located bed which faced the huge window and made his way over to it, looking out at the view it gave of the beaches and the city.

(My Photo - Dec 2015)

He sat on the window seat and turned towards you, “Please... let me explain. Have a seat.” Reluctantly you sat at the opposite end of the long seat, but then stood back up again. You needed a drink. Picking up the bottle of gin from the small table by the window, you walked over to the mini fridge and opened it, taking out a small bottle of tonic water before retrieving a glass from the cupboard above it. You walked over to the large unit under the wall-mounted TV and put it all down, then prepared a G&T for yourself and took a large gulp.

“Nothing for me?” asked Billy, with his best puppy-dog eyes and pout. Heaving a sigh, you went back over to the fridge and took out a bottle of Estrella Damm beer for him, popping the top off it for him. Picking up your G&T on the way back to the window seat, you handed him the beer and sat down.

He took a large swig of the beer, and began, “Sweetheart, I....” but you cut him off. “If you dare to say ‘it’s not what you think’, I’ll chop your balls off, Billy.” He winced, and you shot at him, “What’s her name?” Billy shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but again you beat him to it, “And don’t give me any bullshit. I’m not stupid.”

Billy sighed, taking another drink of his beer, “I know you’re not, sweetheart. But I swear I didn’t cheat on you, it was just about getting information.” “What. Is. Her. Name!?” you ground out. His head went down and he said, “Dinah Madani. She works for Homeland,” but not meeting your eyes. “Okay, Russo. Now we’re getting somewhere. What exactly did you get up to with Mizzz Madani?” “Nothing! I swear!” You stood up abruptly, and Billy - who’d been leaning in towards you - rocked back a bit. “Oh, fuck off Billy!” you yelled, “I can smell the guilt off you!”

You were getting angrier and angrier, “You say you wanna talk and then all you do is lie! Get out! Go on - just get out of my room!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy opened his mouth to say something placatory but seeing just how furious she looked, he decided that a tactical withdrawal was probably the sensible option.

So instead he drained his beer, stood up and began walking to the door. He stopped and turned halfway across the room, gazing at her, “But I do need to properly explain all this to you, angel. Let’s talk later, okay? Please - just give me a chance.”

She nodded, “OK. Tomorrow morning.” He walked to the door, feeling defeated, and left her room. At least she was gonna give him another shot.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The door closed behind him, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Truly, you hadn’t been sure how he was going to react when you told him to leave - Billy had a temper on him. You really didn’t think he’d physically hurt you but he always had that air of danger about him. And you’d been so angry yourself, you’d kind of lost yourself in it.

He might be dangerous, but he was a cowardly little shit when it came to telling the truth. You thought back to what he’d said - ‘Nothing, I swear’ - yeah, a likely story! He must think you were so dumb!

Picking up the room service menu, you had a brief look through it then ordered a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. While waiting for it, you got your laptop out of your bag and opened it up.

Sorry Barcelona, I haven’t seen even half of what I’d intended to and I’d been so looking forward to exploring.

But instead, I’ve got to love you and leave you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy stepped out of the walk-in shower wearing one of the hotel’s fluffy white dressing robes, and headed to his mini-bar. He needed another beer. And some food. He flicked through all the stuff lying out on the unit, finally finding the room service menu and ordering a steak and a coffee.

He sat on the window seat while he waited, propped up against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was feeling guilty, uneasy and really not pleased with himself. Telling her the truth was turning out to be more difficult than he’d thought. He wondered out loud, “Why is that?” but in fact he damn well knew why. The way he’d been carrying on with Madani was wrong. Even if he’d only been intent on getting information, it was just like Frank had said - cheating - and he knew it. Even if, in Billy’s book, there was Cheating Lite and Cheating For Real, and his overstepping had only been into Lite territory. Was it really that bad?

Who was he kidding? Unsurprisingly, his girl didn’t like to share.

So one thing he knew for sure was that when - if - he ever told her the complete truth, his angel was going to be very, very unhappy with him indeed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d ordered a very early room service breakfast and after you’d eaten it while enjoying the view, your belongings were quickly stowed away and you took the lift down to the lobby. After checking out - and assuring the receptionist there was nothing wrong, you just had to leave earlier than you’d anticipated - you were on your way to the revolving door when your phone vibrated.

Karen: Billy got Micro to track you down again, sorry hon! He knows you’re in Barcelona 😳 he’ll be heading out there.

You: Yeah, he’s already here! Caught up with me yesterday evening. Agreed we’d talk this morning. But I’m in a taxi on the way to the airport 😉

Karen: 😂😂😂

Once outside, one of the guest services guys waved up a taxi from the nearby rank for you, and wished you a pleasant journey. The taxi driver asked you which terminal you were headed to, and then you were on your way.

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Barcelona

(My Photos - Dec 2019)

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3

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[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 4: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY: 

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. 

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal. There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. 

TW: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader 

CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2 / CHAPTER 3 / 

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Hi. Can I have one iced americano, no sugar, with an espresso shot, please?" 

 My hands froze and hovered momentarily on the drink I was preparing as I heard a male voice say that from the counter. I didn't turn around to check who it was, but my boss—who is currently helping me man the cafe today—was quick enough to dash the pit-pattering of my chest. He hooked the order slip on the board in front of me and my eyes immediately raised to read the name there. 

"One to-go, americano for Youngho." 

I sighed internally. Whether it be from relief or disappointment though, I don't really know. A part of me wanted to be in denial of my emotions, but I realized you can only go so far if the person you are trying to fool is just yourself. 

It's been almost three months since that night that I last saw Jaemin. I wish I didn't know the exact number of days that passed since then, but I do and I couldn't help it. Every little detail of what happened was still marked fresh in my mind, especially the feeling of hollowness that exploded in my chest when I woke up that morning to see them gone.

If not for the chip on the edge of the table left by Jeno as he tried to hold a half delirious Haechan down that night, I could have easily brushed off everything as a fleeting dream. But it isn't. It is a nightmare, at least in my part. 

He really meant it when he said he would leave me alone. 

There were no calls, no messages, no visits, nothing. It was like he didn't exist at all, the past year spent with him nothing but an imagined illusion. 

We were back to being strangers again, exactly like how he wants to. If you think about it, it's selfless of him to do this, but I hate it. I hate it with everything I have. 

Why? Because now I have to live through the feeling that I'm the only one suffering from all of that has happened. I couldn't watch the news anymore without thinking about him. For heaven's sake, I couldn't even get an iced coffee order without freezing like a statue because I remember him. I hate it. I hate every single moment without him, as much as I didn't want to admit it.

I placed the plastic cover over the finished drink with a soft sigh before turning to hand it over to the customer. At least I can still manage to put out my well-practiced, service smile. 

"Iced Americano for Youngho," I called out into the receiving area as I slipped a straw on the cup sleeve. A tall man looked up and walked over to me to receive it. 

"Thank you for coming to Brick and Beans. I hope you visit us again soon," I said in autopilot, my words so well-rehearsed that I didn't even have to think through while delivering them. The customer smiled at me before giving me a wink.

"I sure will. Thanks for this, sweet cheeks." He turned and left the shop, leaving me slightly confused. 

My attention was then called by my boss who had just finished wiping down the counter. The man—who really has been more of a father figure than an employer for me—gave me a warm smile and motioned me over. 

"Can we talk? I have something to tell you." 

I briefly glanced at the clock. It isn't my break time yet, but the store is empty so I guess it will be fine. I shrugged. 

"Sure."

"Grab a cake for you and me while you're at it," he nodded towards the pastry fridge before walking towards the nearest empty table. I wordlessly took two slices of basque cheesecake, his favorite, before following him. The man has a mean sweet tooth and we both know it.

He was silent for a little bit as he took the fork to take a bite of his treat. I waited patiently for him to speak, hands politely folded over my lap.

"I'm going to sell the cafe." 

I blinked and stared. I wasn't expecting that at all. 

"You're… what?" 

He sighed and leaned back against his seat. He looked a little sad over what he just said but he managed to offer me a small smile.

"I'm getting older. You know how much I love this place because I started it with my late wife, but I really can't continue to manage it anymore. My children, unfortunately, do not have any plans of continuing the business. And they've been asking me to retire, too." 

I nodded slowly, taking the news bit by bit. 

"Do you already have a buyer, ahjussi?" 

"I do. It is kind of strange, actually. Someone offered to buy off the franchise at such a perfect time. And for a very good price, too." 

That made me smile. I've had this job ever since I started college so it makes me a little sad that it's going to have a new owner, but I really am happy for him. I just hope whoever buys it off takes care of it really well. The old man loves this place to bits. 

I felt him take a hold of my hands from across the table. I looked up and was met with a fatherly smile. 

"Don't worry. You won't lose your job. The new owners said that they aren't planning to change anything here and I told them that they had to take you with them." 

That made me almost want to burst into tears. I squeezed his hand back in return. 

"Ahjussi... You didn't have to do that. I can always look for another job." Who am I kidding? I know it will be hard for me to land another sideline especially with all the financial hiccups I am already dealing with so this is really sending me over to the edge of tears. 

"Nonsense. You are part of this business. You've done so much for this place so you deserve this. Don't worry, they said yes to my condition." 

I gave his hands another squeeze and he answered back with a fatherly pat. 

"Thank you…" 

"You're welcome. Just promise me, when you become a doctor, you'll give me free checkups, okay?" 

"No, I won't. Because you will always be healthy and won't need my help at all," I said with a wrinkle of my nose. 

That sent the two of us laughing. 

"When will the new owners take over?"

"By the end of the month," my eyes rounded with surprise and he nodded in understanding. "I know, I know. It really happened too fast. I can't turn down the offer though. To be honest it was way beyond what the business is worth." 

I sighed. "Well… as long as you are sure about them." 

"I am. For now, I'll be here for a bit with you. I just need to enjoy my last days here. So just don't mind your old man, okay?" 

I grinned. 

"Only if you promise to give me a free cake every day you are here." 

He reached out to ruffle my hair. 

"Deal."

----

It was a slow day at the cafe so my boss decided to turn down the jazz music that usually floats from the speakers in lieu of the television volume. It was an odd hour in the afternoon and I found myself smiling as I watched him flip the channels over to look for a good show to watch while I dried some mugs. Just then, the overhead bell on the door dinged, welcoming with it a pair of uni-looking kids. 

My boss looked over, but I was quick to jump to action instead. "I'll take care of it," I mouthed to him, to which he gave me a smile before turning his attention back to what he was doing.

"Hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. What can I offer you today?"

"We'll have one dirty chai latte and one irish coffee over ice. Make it to go. " 

The couple offered their names and I nodded as I punched their orders on my POS. "Would you like some pastries to go with that?"

"No, that's all."

"Got it, you can wait over there to the side. I'll have your drinks with you shortly," I said with a smile. The girl pulled the boy over into the receiving area to continue their conversation. 

"So what I'm saying is, we gotta go. Tonight is going to be epic. The bets will be high for sure. We can get some mean cash if we put it in the right car." 

The other gave a soft snort and started drumming his fingers against the wood of the counter. I let their conversation act as white noise while I worked behind the bar.

"I don't know. You're not even sure who is going to be there." 

"Jeno is in the line-up. That at least is confirmed."

I dropped the metal scooper I was using on the floor with a resounding clang. 

The three others in the room looked over to me as I hurriedly picked it up with shaking hands. I gave all parties a sheepish look before turning on my back to continue what I was doing. 

This time, I was full-on listening. 

"If Jeno's going to be there, then it is a goner. There's no chance for others. It'll be full-on suicide," the boy said thoughtfully. The girl, however, shrugged in reply. 

"They said the others might come, too. You know, to make the run a little bit more balanced," she offered. 

"You mean the seven?"

"The Four, at least."

"Oh shit."

"Uh-huh. So I'm telling you, we gotta be there man. If we can't bet then fine, but we have to see it. It’s been ages since they actually went on lane." 

I didn't really know how I managed to finish what I was doing, not with how hard my heart was beating in my chest. I'm not sure how many Jeno's there are in this part of town, but I am sure as hell that there is only one who is a member of a seven-piece 'group.' 

"Here's your order," I said thinly as I pushed the finished drinks over to them by the counter. The boy offered his card and I took it quickly, all the while thinking of what I should do next. The few seconds of me typing away at the terminal was the longest quarter minute of my life.

"Here's your receipt. Thank you for coming and see us again," I said, my voice a little weaker than usual. The couple gave a quick bow before turning to leave, drinks in hand. 

There are two ways this could go. I could let them out of that door and have my only possible chance of getting in contact with any of the boys leave with them. Or I could call after them and…

I whipped around to call out to my boss, my figure already halfway out from the bar. 

"Ahjussi, I'll be back in five minutes, sorry. I promise I'll be quick!"

He had barely looked up when I started running out the door.

-----

"Excuse me!" 

The duo looked back at me, then at each other in confusion as I tried my best to hurry up to them without landing on my face. God, why do they walk so fast? They were just a few seconds ahead when they left the shop! Thankfully, they stopped at my call, giving me a chance to skid before them as I tried to catch my breath.

"Um… Is there a problem? We paid, right?" The boy asked me with an odd look. I waved my hand before finally trying to answer. 

"Yes. I uh—"

Well, I obviously didn't plan this out clearly. How do I say this now without sounding like a lunatic? 

"I heard your conversation earlier. You were talking about Jeno."

The pair exchanged glances again, this time tinged with suspicion. It was the girl who answered this time. 

"Yes, we were. What about it?" 

"I… I just want—to maybe know where he is? You were talking about tonight's—"

"The drag race?"

I stopped for half a heartbeat before nodding. 

"Yeah. The race. I wanted to come, too, but I don't really know the address." 

The boy cocked his brow at me in blatant suspicion. It took all of me to pull out all the basics I learned from drama class back in high school to remain calm before his withering glare. 

"You know Jeno but don't know the address? That doesn't make any sense," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If you've been in one before you should have been included in the text blast."

Oh shit. 

I could feel my palms growing cold from nervousness. Still, I tried pushing on. 

"W-well, I was invited before by one of them. But then things fell apart and I started not getting any of the...texts anymore," I said, not having the slightest idea of what I am saying myself. What's ironic though was that what I just blurted out was sort of a half-truth, too.

Apparently—and miraculously—it also made sense by the look of understanding that dawned on their faces. 

"I see…" the girl trailed off. She cleared her throat and looked at her friend before glancing at me again. 

"Look, I can give you the address, but promise me that you never got it from me when someone asks, okay?" She asked. The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Are you crazy? She was already shadow banned!"

She shushed him and waved her hand off to shut him up. "Look, this is a girl thing. Don't mess with it. Just go ahead to the car, I'll take care of it." 

He scoffed but stalked off towards the direction of the parking lot. 

She turned towards me again and pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket. I watched as she unlocked the screen before showing it to me. 

"Do you have your phone with ya? Here, take a photo of this address." 

I swear I could almost kiss her. I scrambled to get my phone from my back pocket and didn't waste another second to take a snap of her screen.

"Thank you so much." 

She nodded in understanding before locking her phone again and shoving it into her pocket. "Hey, a girl's gotta stand up for another. Who was it? Was it Haechan?" 

"Um…" 

She didn't wait for me to finish. 

"Really, whoever it is among them, I can't really blame you. They're all cute, but they do need to be taken down a notch when it comes to girls. Those boys," she tsked. "Dangerous." 

Oh…

Oh. She thought I was an ex-fling who wanted to teach one of them a lesson by crashing the race. I let that sink in before a frown settled on my features. 

Well, aren't you one? The devil on my shoulder cackled at me sardonically. 

"Glad to have helped though. But remember, you didn't get it from me, okay?"

With a wink, she strutted off, leaving me staring at her retreating form. 

----

I told myself I simply wanted to see him again. 

I reminded myself that for the hundredth time tonight as I parked my car on a free space by a gravel road, my eyes roaming the darkness beyond. The place looked deserted, and I had to do one last check if I really put in the right coordinates on my map before finally turning off my engine. The road beyond was wide but uncemented and to its left is a half unfinished building with metal banisters reaching out to the sky like skeletal arms. I swallowed. Every little thing about the space beyond screams danger.

Which probably means I am in the right place. 

I reached out to zip up my jacket and pulled the hoodie over my head before getting out of my car. My sneakers crunched on the gravel as I made my way towards a low wall circling the building beyond. 

Just try and take a look. You don't have to talk to him. You can keep your distance. 

I repeated that in my head again and again as I approached what I assume to be the entrance. A part of me still wants to berate myself for doing this but I am too far gone to try and play the denial game again. I want, no, I need to see Jaemin's world.

The moment I passed through a crack on the wall, it felt like I stepped into a different world. It opened up into an even wider area, the shadows of a multi-lane road behind the abandoned building beyond. Milling around is a throng of people, some smoking, others sipping on red cups on their hands. Some cars were parked against the wall I just passed, their headlights on with music booming out of their rolled down windows. 

I tried to swallow the lump on my throat as I looked around. Already, I felt out of place in the crowd, but I steeled myself to push on, my hands digging deeper into the pockets of my jacket.

"Hey." 

I looked up to see a boy around my age wave at me. He was also holding a red cup and what looked like a bundle of paper. My eyes widened as that came into focus when he got closer. 

Money. 

Wads and wads of cash. 

"You put your bets already?" He asked as he stuffed the bills into a small belt bag hidden beneath his oversized shirt. He pulled his phone out then, unlocked the screen, and looked at me, waiting for an answer. 

"Uh…" 

He gave me an odd look.

"Who are you betting on?" He asked again. 

I gave the first name I could only think of. 

"Ja-Jaemin," I stuttered.

That earned me a low whistle from him as he typed away at his phone, probably to record my choice of 'player.' "I don't know, man. Dude seems pretty out of it lately, but whatever floats your boat." He stuck out his hand to me then, and it took me a few seconds to realize what he was asking for. 

"Oh," I scrambled to grab my purse. I was in the middle of pulling my card from my wallet when I saw his face. Slowly, I put it back to reach out for bills instead. 

"Cash only." 

I sheepishly handed him the last few hundreds I have. He took them, expertly flipping through each bill to count them off. 

"First time, eh?" 

I nodded. 

I watched as he slipped the money into his already overflowing belt bag, thinking that he would leave after that. Instead he nudged his head towards the direction of the building and motioned me along. 

"Come on then. At least try and get a good look at your first race." 

I blinked in confusion but ran after him as he started walking away. 

We stopped at the front row of the half ring of people that had already gathered in front of the abandoned rafters. Just then, a huge spotlight shone over the road behind it, driving everyone to erupt in cheers. Parked in a single line at the foot of the road are five cars, headlights opening one by one.

"Jaemin's the yellow one," the boy nodded towards the one occupying the third lane. I stared. I know next to nothing about cars, but I know enough to be sure that none of the ones in front of me now are something you can buy from your run-of-the-mill auto dealer. Lowered, with shining reams, and a low motor hum that reverberated to where I was standing, I could only briefly compute in my head how much each of those customized rides must have cost. 

I heard the boy beside me snort amusedly. "Your first race and you get to see this. I'm telling you, this happens once in a blue moon," he said with a smirk. I didn't say anything, my gaze never leaving the yellow car. 

Slowly though, I noticed the crowd's noise die down dramatically the same time that a petite form walked out from the building. The woman stopped in the middle of the road and raised her hand into the night sky, a small pistol in her grasp.

Everyone has gone so quiet now that you could almost hear a needle dropping. Just then, the resounding bang of a gunshot pierced the air. Few other large spotlights turned on simultaneously, revealing the snaking road ahead that was disguised under the darkness earlier. I gasped. The roaring sound of engines blared beyond and with a new uproar from the crowd, the cars were speeding ahead, leaving trails of light in their wake. 

My heart was beating so hard against my chest as I tried my best to follow the speeding cars ahead. I was only able to comprehend the real expanse of the road the moment each ride took over its lanes—the place looked more like an abandoned air dock field more than anything else. I was barely aware of my nails digging on the palms of my hands as my eyes switched from Jaemin’s car and the others, particularly on the deep red one that he was currently toe in toe with. The space between the two were a hair’s breadth away and I could almost swear their sides would collide any second. 

That went on until a curve on the road appeared. It was the last turn before the finish line and the crowd turned wilder as the nose of each car tried its best to take the lead. I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath until the last second when the yellow one took over the inner space of the road before swerving successfully ahead.

Everyone around me erupted in cheers. I gave my own gasp, hands covering my lips before joining the rest.

Jaemin’s yellow lambo parked on the finish line, the rest of the race participants trailing behind. I watched as his door opened, revealing his beautiful wide grin and tousled hair. He was glowing, cheeks flushed from the adrenaline. I was so caught up in the image that I barely noticed Jeno appearing from the red car, followed by Renjun, Mark, and Haechan from the other rides. 

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I watched with a smile as they huddled over Jaemin, playfully pushing and cajoling him for his win. They looked happy, carefree.

But it seems like they aren’t the only ones who were out there in the road. My gaze moved back to Jaemin's car when I saw his passenger seat open. As if in slow motion, a girl got out of it, wearing the same wide smile the others have. The group hooted at her as she joined their huddle. 

That’s when I felt as if time has stopped.  

The smile on my face slowly faded as I watched Jaemin wrap his arms around her before pulling her into a tight hug. 

---

A/N: Hey guys! This is going to be the second to the last chapter of Jaemin’s side story! I originally wanted to finish it in one go, but I thought it would be nice to release the epilogue on Nana’s birthday! So yes, that’ll be out on the 13th, lol. Thank you so much to those who have continued reading this side fic! <3

Chapter 5 (END)

Taglist: @negincho​, @springdaybreaks​, 

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[julieloves074]

Out of the Darkness pt.3 (Darkling x reader story)

Lets just ignore that English is not my first language :)

“Would you rather wear my black colour instead?” his question sounding genuine but a trap all the same, he didn’t move, waiting for my answer, two could play this game.

“Have I made you speechless?” he asked. So simply.

“Well that would just be improper General,” I said taking the red kefta out of his hand with force, he latches onto it for a moment so that I can’t take it out of his hgrips, “I don’t know what I would do to thank you,” I added, with a gaze of admiration, still pulling away from the idea of battering my eyelashes, that would be too obvious, he would see right through me.

Though, his kefta did look warmer, maybe this was his autumn wear, either way, I would never wear his colours, or any colours if I could help it.

“They’re bullet proof, after transporting the sun summoner who knows when one may attack us again,” he commented, and waited until the red clothing was secured around my limbs and body before walking towards two of his soldiers, one was holding the rein of the horse behind them. A midnight black stallion, clearly pure breed.

I huffed as I brought the material forward in one rough pull, fixing the collar while I’m at it. He doesn’t looked back to me, until his body is secure on his horse.

“I will ride on horseback, and you shall be in my carriage, with two of my trusted guards,” he said turning back to me for one moment, his brave commanding voice didn’t quiver now that other first and second army eyes were us and our exchange, him mostly, but some eager eyes didn’t shy away from peeling at me, the new Grisha, that so happened to appear during the night, giving me the benefit of a doubt.

I turned back towards the carriage, looking both ways, past the stares, how else could I get away?

Only to get my arms in not so friendly hold of the guards, who somewhat forcefully push me into the carriage. The space is small, confined, the window quickly becomes a good friend of mine. With nowhere else to look the views outside are quite lovely. Forests and greenery, not much different to where I came from, but still something new.

As we dove deeper into the forest I turned to my new favourite, hated game called stop every mistake you made when you were taken into that tent. I focused on every single little detail that went wrong, I could have forced myself to say on the floor, I knew the mattress and duvet, and the fluffy blanket would lure me away in a deep world of sleep.

I did need it, but I wish I could have prevented it. Made up a plan or even just a lie.

Instead, here I am, sitting across from two soldiers in their black unfirmos, neither of them Grisha, meaning that his most trsuted Grisha were at the Little Palace with Alina, protecting and watching her, bearing in mind that the walls could protect her enough; she really seems like a bird trapped in a cage.

This is good, better than good, excellent, now I can just maybe tip the carriage, not burn it that would be a waste, but maybe just make it seem like an accident, best done during the night, slipping away unnoticed. Really uncontacted this time. I would leave the red kefta on the floor, make sure it gets in the flames, it would burn like the fire itself.

But then he’d suspect me: an inferni. I sighed but the guards weren’t really paying that much attention to me anyway. They sat their bodies square to me looking straight ahead, this is probably the only time they’ve ever been allowed to sit inside this carriage.

Instead I could slow their hearts, he wouldn’t blame it on me, he couldn’t, in his black glossy eyes I am only an inferni after all. Why would he need another inferni anyway, surely he had plenty at the palace? Unless he was really low on fire.

At the sow descend of the shadows, as the sun started to cower down I urged myself forward, my eyelids seemed awfully heavy, unlike their usually feathery float, I hoped the two men didn’t realise, I wanted to get this over with.

But they too shuffled forwards in their seats, hands on their knees. Still staring forwards, almost like gargoyles on old, gloomy caste roofs.

I’m not their prisoner, or his, or so he said. So why would they give such a care? My eyes widened, without turning to me, one of each hand goes to my wrists, entrapping me again in their will. I couldn’t slow their hearts.

“Let go of me! You have no right to me!” I screamed instead, though they did nothing more than hold onto my arms, urging me to stay in one space, to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull any tricks out of the bag.

How’d I create myself such a reputation so quickly?

In a sudden burst the carriage stopped, I couldn’t hear anything or anyone outside, as if the world had stopped, the guards faces turned alarmed, their eyes gazed around, their other arms ready to grip their weapons. Taking the initiative I shuffled backwards, pleading my hands to follow, they stayed in their grips.

Then there was a shuffle outside, footsteps, the guards didn’t even get a chance to shuffle back themselves, or grab their weapons before the door flung open, as if the wind attacked it, harshly beckoning it to open up.

Their hands rip away ferociously, so I rushed mine to wrap them around my knees in a protective position, not weak, but self-protective. Never weak. Edging away from them I painted the situation in exactly the right shades and colours.

“We’re making a stop for a few hours, then the girl rides with me,” he said sternly to the two men, giving them the look of what I would call a waring, they wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me, not when the General could make them pay for it greedily.

The two men looked to each other’s; fear blemished out of their pupils which turned smaller by every second of his stare.

I had my way, I was out of the carriage for the remainder of the journey.

He reached his gloved hand my way, I looked at his hand, then back into his eyes and then to his hand again. The other rested in the doorway of the transport, even in such a lousy position he stood taller and more proper than any man.

“Y/n?” he said, I took a breath, letting my eyes creep to the two guards again before finally accepting the General’s hand out of my seat.

The chilly air hit, like jumping into freezing water all at once. In front of me I saw what looked like an old barn, there was already movement inside, with the way the darkling’s face stayed stoic, calm I could tell that they were out people. His people.

As we were leaving the camp I wasn’t sure how many of us were travelling, it was mostly just soldiers, only two of us, the Grisha.

Landing both my feet steadily on the ground, he let go of my hand, it seemed as though he intend to glide it to my arm or lower back to guide me in but I was already ahead of him, moving towards the entrance of the barn.

Some men and women were already sitting around some sticks, the General looked to me when we sat down. This was my cue to start a fire, could it have been part of a test? Some kind of trial to see if I can even control my power.

Like a baby latching onto their parents I lit a fire in my palm, hearing it crinkle, everything else is quiet, I revel in silence, in the dark when I can pretend there is no one but I in the world. The crinkle of self awareness in a way calms me.

I throw my arms towards the wood, which then too starts to roar in flames, and suddenly nothing seems personal, I feel exposed, but open my eyes and shake off the feeling. It’s just lighting a fire, I remind myself.

Standing there for a moment I stare into the raw beaty of the red and orange dancers, the mild wind too joins in with the solstice. I avoid his stare but he finds a way to make me turn his way, he calls me over with the very movement of his body, I chose not to resist, to get any more conversation out of the way.

Most would kill to be this close to the General, and some would kill to never within a couple of miles of him ever again. I fit nowhere in that scale, which makes it even worse, he doesn’t matter to me, he doesn’t fit anywhere into my life, or my outlooks.

“Did you never want to be with the rest of us?” he asks, the concentration of pressure of the us. He didn’t sound offended or insulted by the fact that I didn’t try to find a way to be with the Grisha. He seemed genuinely confused. Like it were unusual for people with these abilities to shy away from that life.

“You could have been living with the services and care you deserve,” he continues, his voice dark in a way I wasn’t sure was possible. Many described the fold as darkness but a place, they weren’t exactly wrong, but the General’s voice was darkness if it vibrated though words.

What did he know what I deserved? It being clear he thought everyone with these skills should have everything, at least a little less than him.

“I was a run away. Never wanted anywhere, never welcome anywhere. Grisha or not I learned to live a new way, and I like living that way,” I said and it was partially true, learning a new way to live was no easy feat but the freedom was like running around a sandy beach with wind in your hair and the smell of the salty sea.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that, your wanted at Little Palace with others like you, you’re welcome there, it shall be your home,” his voice was slightly gentler, or maybe it was the new hushed tone, as if this was our secret, one that no one can know.

With that he leaped gracefully onto his feet and walked other to his soldiers, solid in his stance but passionate in his words. Just hearing him from here talking about how much he wants to help the people on both sides. For closer up he wasn’t as dark as some might have imagined.

I ended up falling asleep, the kefta was good for that remark, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do, he chose not to sleep, he just sat there, some guards napped and took turns but the General didn’t wink an eye.

We never made eye contact, I couldn’t read his face, and then again like a weak child I drifted to sleep.

For a second night in a row there was no nightmare, and there was always nightmares, they would crawl at me, in every single corner of my head and brain, until I would scream and awaken to sweating and the cold hard ground.

From then on I only allowed myself to sleep a few, a couple of hours.

It’s like my system forgot to be aware, alert.

I woke at the General telling the soldiers to get up and ready to leave, I assume he was coming to wake me up next with his loud words of a calm demeanour but I got to my feet with the left over soldiers, already turning to make my way out of the barn.

Still I had to wait next to where the horses stood because now I would ride with the General, on a horse next to him more specifically, I would escape or else I will be killed.

Once everything else is installed in its places he comes over, only his black stallion in sigh, he meant literally ride with him, now I was starting to have slight regrets. The carriage might have been a better idea.

Without a word he got on then his head turned to me and his hand followed, I rose an eyebrow but the mystic glare of his eyes and tension between his brows put me on edge.

His arms wrapped around me as he reached for the rein and then we were off, the speed felt more real here, faster, for one it might have been the fact that we were gradually losing the carriage behind us.

After getting onto the plainer field there was only us and no on else in sight. It was a quiet journey, one of which the inner of my thighs were burning, I’d never been on a horse before, family was too poor, and I never had a job.

I didn’t dare complain, his heart didn’t show a shudder of anything, but mine was much quicker, whether it was from the thrill of riding a horse or from having the black General so close to mine I would never know?

His arm hovered too closely to mine for a moment and that pass of surety surged through me, it was weird how simply he could make me feel so weak, but so powerful at once, he could make me lose control, that would end in disaster.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though with my whole body screaming for more power to rush into my palm his voice was a whisper. The words echoed around my ear, his lips so close to my ears.

I took in a low breath.

“I’m fine,” I said but he didn’t move from the close position, “Thank you,” I added and like a calling he moved his head back and I felt weak, everywhere.

How was I supposed to get away now?

Part four

[qqueenofhades]

So like. What if there were a fic of Ivan and Fedyor falling in love? Just saying. Someone could write that...(and could that someone be you?!)

Fedyor Kaminsky is brought to the Little Palace when he is nine years old. Before that, he has lived his whole life in the place he was born: a small village about twenty miles southeast of Kribirsk. It is just close enough for him to be constantly aware of the Shadow Fold, looming like a thunderstorm on a hot summer day, and to know, also, the honor that it is when the examiners arrive, he receives a sharp prick in the arm, some sort of strange result takes place, and he is formally declared to be Grisha. His parents know it too, and are eager to tell him of it. They are not well off, and Fedyor is the sixth of seven children. The payment for their patriotic service will be welcome, and while his mother hugs him tightly and tells him to make the Saints proud, he feels, somehow, that they are not that grieved to see the back of him. He is the only child from his village that has been picked, and they all assemble to see him off. Just think. One of their own, in the Second Army.

Fedyor cries himself to sleep his first night in the dormitories, as most of the children do. But he wakes fully rested, hungry for breakfast, and eager to throw himself into his new life. He has a sunny temperament, a personable nature, that serves him well here, and any talented Grisha can climb high in the ranks, almost as high as the Black General himself. Back home, what did he have to look forward to, aside from the taunts and punches of his brothers, who always saw him as more like one of their sisters than one of them? He is learning things here. Religion and medicine and geography and history. And, of course, the arcane art of the Small Science, the one thing that binds these young people from all across Ravka. Their power, their responsibility, and their upcoming effort in the endless wars.

His first few years pass rather well, all things considered. When he is thirteen, it is officially declared that he will be taken onto the Order of Corporalniks, and – somewhat to everyone’s surprise, including his – he is best suited not as a Healer, but a Heartrender. It turns out that unassuming, smiling, friendly Fedyor, who knows everyone’s name and is always given an indulgent second portion of dessert from the doting canteen ladies, packs quite a punch.

It’s here where he first puts Ivan Sakharov on his back, and his whole life changes.

Fedyor and Ivan have known of each other, ever since they arrived in the same class of recruits. Ivan is a tough, taciturn northern boy from Chernast, skinny and scowling and always displeased about something, no matter what. Fedyor once saw him brood through the whole Winter Fete, and he has taken it as a professional challenge to get Ivan to smile. Once Fedyor plays a practical joke on him, to the awe of the entire dormitory, who would not dare to even imagine such things themselves. Ivan scowls at him like the Black Heretic himself, and stomps off to have his important life problems somewhere else. But now they’re both thirteen, Ivan is shooting up like a weed and channeling all that pent-up resentment into some really effective Heartrending, and Fedyor is regretting all his previous liberties. As they face each other and bow, thus to commence the duel on Botkin’s word, he thinks, Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Then he remembers that he’s the same Order, he has the same red kefta awaiting him when he finishes his trials, that he has as much right to be here as some tight-arse bastard from the frozen northern wastes, and that is why, thirty seconds after the duel has begun, Ivan is flat on his back and looking astonished. Everyone is applauding, and Fedyor feels somewhat confused. He strides over to his fallen adversary and offers him a hand. “Good job.”

Ivan glares at him, exquisitely sensitive to the possibility that he’s being mocked. “You’ll regret this, Kaminsky,” he says, low-voiced. “Mark my words.”

After that, for several months, Fedyor lives in terror of going anywhere in the Little Palace alone, lest Ivan suddenly leap out from behind a shrubbery and murder him. He and Ivan spar in their classes, in practice, in trying to outdo each other in Baghra’s ridiculous lessons, throwing all their effort into the sort of stupid, pointless rivalry that can only be maintained by teenage boys with too much pride and too little sense. They start to look for each other wherever they go, waste no opportunity to glare heatedly, and they are sixteen years old when Fedyor notices to his extreme vexation that during all this time spent staring at him until he has memorized his face, Ivan has gotten a little… handsome.

(What? No? Ivan? Horrifying.)

Fedyor himself isn’t exactly cursed in the face department, once a persistent bout of acne clears up. With his wavy hair, dark eyes, and easy smile, he provokes his fair share of sighs and pining among the female Corporalniks, but he is oddly uninterested in reciprocating their advances. Then he and Ivan get paired together on some training exercise that goes horribly wrong, they are trapped in the woods for hours until someone comes to find them, and with nothing else to do, they are forced to actually talk. Ivan has that northern chip on his shoulder that they all seem to, and probably started fighting Fjerdans when he was two years old, but what he says next takes Fedyor completely aback. “You’re… not that bad,” he says grudgingly. “You’re the only one who’s brave enough to actually talk to me, not just tiptoe like a mouse.”

“Well.” Fedyor throws a stick of wood at him. “Have you considered being less of a total grouch all the time?”

Ivan scoffs, lunges at him, and they end up wrestling in the leaf mold, an exercise that both of them enjoy a bit too much and take extreme care that the other not notice. By the time the search party from the Little Palace comes to retrieve them, they have forgotten all about being lost. In fact, as they were lying on the ground together, tangled up and panting and staring at the stars, Fedyor had the strangest thought that it was the best night of his life, and he doesn’t have a clue what he should make of that.

After that, an even stranger thing happens: they become friends. Well, sort of. Ivan maintains his default posture of appearing to hate everything and everyone, but Fedyor is the only person he tolerates, or allows to yank his chain in any way. And in turn, though Ivan Sakharov is the last person who would seem to need any kind of protection, the favor is returned. Once, when a city boy from Os Alta starts going on about how savage northerners are, staring pointedly at Ivan the whole time, Fedyor launches him halfway across the room. He gets in trouble, but it’s worth it. And they do undoubtedly work better together, Fedyor fighting right-handed and Ivan fighting left. They cover each other’s weak sides, learn to anticipate each other’s moves, and…

It’s a deeply inconvenient fact of life that when you are a Heartrender, and are exquisitely sensitive to pulse rates, you notice when yours starts going consistently haywire around certain people. Especially when, the year they turn eighteen, they are assigned to room together. The Little Palace is spacious, but not enough for every Grisha to have his or her own room, and since they’re no longer children, they’re not expected to share with the entire class. So Fedyor and Ivan end up in a garret room of their very own, and it is here, to his extreme consternation, that the next phase of Fedyor’s torment re: Ivan begins.

It is difficult to share a small room with Ivan and not want to look at him, and unless he is much mistaken, Ivan always seems to be concentrating a little too hard on his books whenever Fedyor is changing clothes. Fedyor is self-aware enough by this point to know that he prefers men, but he has absolutely no idea as to Ivan. Do they do this sort of thing in Chernast, or does it distract from arm-wrestling bears and shooting drüskelle? Ivan is so constantly unwilling to admit any kind of weakness or effeminacy that Fedyor figures gloomily he’s just doomed to suffer in silence. Naturally.

Except then both of them start rejecting any other romantic overtures, and they even go to the Summer Fete dance together, and Fedyor is taken aback when Zoya Nazyalensky asks bluntly the next day, “So, you and Ivan? Really?”

“What?” Fedyor is aware that Zoya and Ivan cordially hate each other, though she and Fedyor have always gotten on. “We’re not – Zoya, it’s not like that!”

He pauses.

“At least,” he adds guiltily. “It’s not like that as far as we’ve said?”

Zoya gives him a look silently agreeing that for the sake of their friendship, they will never mention Fedyor’s terrible taste in men again, though that doesn’t mean she has to like it. As for her, she’s pining after Kirigan, as almost all Grisha do at some point. Fedyor did so himself – the Black General is gorgeous, all right, shoot him – but he cares about nothing except finding the mythical Sun Summoner and engaging in a busy schedule of brooding even more intense than Ivan’s. Ivan, for that matter, seems to have struck it off with him, as Kirigan always values talent, and Fedyor has to fight down an unbecoming surge of jealousy. It’s not like they’re something. Not really.

(Though not for lack of wanting.)

After that, an even stranger thing happens, which is that people start assuming that Fedyor and Ivan are, in fact, a couple. Fedyor gets asked how his boyfriend is doing (sometimes sardonically, sometimes in a tone that turns genuinely surprised when he hastens to correct them) and he minds it less and less. Of course, for his part, Ivan is utterly oblivious. They’re sitting in a sunny hallway one day, Ivan tolerantly letting Fedyor play with his hair (though he keeps it military-short and it’s not like there’s that much of it) when Genya Safin walks by, glances at them archly, and says, “You know, Ivan, you’re much nicer now that you’re going out with him.”

Ivan turns such a deep shade of purple that Fedyor’s afraid he’s going to blow a gasket. “What?!” he splutters. “We are not – we are not – we are not going out! Never! I don’t – what are you talking – I don’t even like him!”

Fedyor’s lip quivers, despite himself. “Come on,” he says, failing to make it entirely lighthearted, wounded deeper than he wants to admit. “You don’t mean that, right?”

Ivan turns to him, flustered. “No,” he says convulsively. “Don’t look sad. Don’t look at me like that. Shh. Of course I like you.”

Fedyor brightens.

Genya gives them an obnoxiously knowing look and walks away.

By now, they’re twenty-one, old enough to be properly deployed as soldiers to the front, and Fedyor can’t help but thinking about where Ivan is, what he’s doing, if he’s all right, whenever they’re apart. He doesn’t like it, it feels wrong and unnatural, they always did better side by side anyway. Finally, they both get back to the Little Palace after a grueling campaign of many months away, Ivan against the Fjerdans and Fedyor against the Shu Han. They see each other, and it’s like lightning, rooting them to the ground. They’re dusty, dirty, banged up, bruised and bloody, but they know as a simple truth, beyond any doubt or questioning, that Fedyor will be coming to Ivan’s room tonight, and that Ivan will sit up and wait for him.

And that, therefore, is what happens. Fedyor can barely concentrate on washing up and fetching supper because he is so fixated on the knowledge of what’s coming later. He goes through the motions, barely hears his friends, barely tastes what he’s eating. He scarcely manages to wait until it’s dark. Then he gets up, slips through the corridors – they no longer bunk together, but he knows the way – and reaches the door. Fights a final attack of nerves, about how long he’s been waiting and how it might go wrong – then knocks.

“It’s open,” Ivan calls from inside, his voice dark with wanting. Of course it is.

Fedyor steps inside, and looks at him. After all this time, it feels like he should make a speech, have something more grand to say, or perhaps even an I-told-you-so. He doesn’t get around to any of that. He can’t stand it. Instead he shucks his kefta in a quick, practiced movement. Runs across the room, and climbs, claws, into Ivan’s arms.

Their kiss is rough and wet and wild, mouths open, teeth dragging, tongues scraping, trying to get as close as they possibly can, and then closer. Ivan’s hands, deft and eager, rough with calluses, spread across Fedyor’s arms and shoulders, the neat muscled column of his torso. “You should have let me do that,” he scolds between kisses, evidently referring to the business of undressing Fedyor. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“You’ve been waiting long enough – ?!” Fedyor Kaminsky really does love this man, but Saints help him, he is dense. “You could have said something!”

Ivan looks at him with pure wickedness in his eyes. “I thought I just did.”

Fedyor groans, grabs Ivan’s head to kiss him again, and they roll down onto the covers together, tearing at the remaining clothes in their way. It’s raw and agonized and real, this coming together, this needing, this consummation and completion, and afterward, as Fedyor lies gasping on Ivan’s chest and Ivan sleepily strokes his hair with a tenderness that seems totally inconceivable to anyone who has met him at literally any other moment, Fedyor knows, in some way, he will never truly leave this room again. That he’s here. Home.

(Later, Fedyor finds out that Ivan actually asked his boss for help with his romantic quandary, and Kirigan’s advice was evidently so terrible that Ivan decided to just give up and go for it with Fedyor rather than trying that again. Even if Aleksander Kirigan is the Black General, the Shadow Summoner, the most powerful Grisha in the world, Ivan does not intend to let him forget it. They are all fortunate that Aleksander thinks it’s funny.)