#-chewing at the walls- BUT ITS FINE. IT'S FINE THAT THEY DIDN'T AT ALL. /lie

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about Vulcans prizing “calm” over “happiness”. 

Like how humans look back on their childhood and remember how happy it was - joyful days spent running around in the sun, getting into a bit of trouble, laughing with peers and family - that’s how they know it was a good one. Meanwhile Vulcans might look back on their childhood and remember how peaceful it was. Quiet days spent studying, the warm glow of candlelit lessons in caves, getting along smoothly with ones peers - that’s how they know it was a good one. Humans typically chose their friends and romantic partners based on if this person makes them feel happy above all. The question of “Do you like being with them?” is interpreted to mean “Does being with them make you feel happy?” But since Vulcans don’t experience (or strive for) happiness there would have to be some other parameter. So I was thinking about like, what is a good relationship to a Vulcan? There’s obviously a big emphasis on ‘togetherness’ in Vulcan unions. The Pon Farr ritual Tuvok does with his [hologram] wife involves them committing to becoming “Two bodies one mind” and it’s stated that they give and receive from each other all that they are. There’s also of course the iconic “Never and always touching and touched”. This is all (as was said during T’Pol & Koss’ wedding) “The Vulcan heart, the Vulcan soul, this is our way.” Vulcans are also (ENT) expected to live together for at least a year after being married - I imagine so that they can bond with and get to know one another. In SNW T’Pring wants for Spock to honor the commitments he makes to her so in that case T’Pring values Spock keeping his word to her and placing her above other things. I see a bit of Tuvok in that, where he prizes his commitment to T’Pel over anything else to the point where he’d nearly rather die than break it: (Even though he eventually agrees to having sex with a hologram it MUST be of his wife and he lets Tom/The Audience know that he will NOT be making a habit of it. There’s no ironclad logical reason for him to react this way as a hologram is not a person but his commitment to T’Pel seems to take precedence and I believe that’s his reasoning. His bond with T’Pel is logical, sustaining and important to him and he’s loath to break it over some bodily need. some desire that will pass even if it kills him.) <- By this way of thinking, betraying T’Pel would be the emotional choice while remaining loyal to her is remaining loyal to his logical self. A strong emphasis on loyalty to one’s mate seems to be a common Vulcan trait. In the beginning this seems to be rooted in tradition but later on its probably assumed that the couple will be loyal to one another out of some sort of actual connection between two people as opposed to pure obligation. In ENT T’Pol says that a certain degree of “affection” is eventually expected to happen within a marriage (though the way she says it makes me think this doesn’t always occur and isn’t necessarily The Goal) and her mother says that she and her husband developed a “deep connection” to one another. All this makes me think that a connection and a sense of ‘togetherness’ or ‘compatibility’ would also be prized over more emotional things like a passion for one another. It’s a partnership above all and that would be prized over a romantic union.  It makes me think of Vulcans’ roots in violence and war. Maybe this commitment to a steady togetherness, two people who don’t know each other being able to work together so seamlessly they nearly become one, is a way to show they’ve moved beyond that despite the pon farr remaining. Vulcans are a naturally very emotional species. Someone who incites that would probably not be seen as someone you should spend your time with. Someone who makes your heart pound, sets you ablaze, fills you with passion - that sounds like a bad Vulcan time v_v  Tuvok says as much when he talks about how he was struck with “shon-ha’lock”. Humans wouldn’t see anything wrong with having a crush on someone (and indeed in that episode Tom only comes to the conclusion that it’s a shame Tuvok couldn’t act on these emotions) but it’s obvious that even a teenaged crush when uncontrolled can become a very big problem to a Vulcan. In one of the Star Trek Novels Tuvok even stops being friends with and talking to a girl because she tearfully admits she has feelings for him and he sees that her feelings for him cause her pain.  Instead of thinking “Oh, she really likes me, good! We’re close friends so maybe we can make this work.” or even “I don’t like her romantically but since we’re close friends we can work through it.”  Tuvok thinks “Oh, she really likes me. That must be causing her to become very emotional and I can see she’s clearly upset. I’ll remove myself from her life so my presence doesn’t incite those emotions anymore.” And while him flat out just cutting himself out of her life might seem weird and kind of cruel and a frankly hilarious reaction to someone confessing their love to you - I also think it’s something he thought of as a kindness. If his presence harms her (stirs up emotions in her) then he will remove himself to keep from harming her. Along that vein, calmness or the absence of strong emotions would be a good relationship and one worth staying in. Not that there can’t be any emotions (Tuvok and T’Les obviously care[d] deeply for their respective spouses) but that they must be controllable and able to be cast aside in the face of logic.  I also think that “knowing” the other person would be considered very important (after marriage of course). If you’re to operate as a partnership, a team, and especially if you’re both telepaths you should be able to know your spouse pretty damn well. I see T’Pring attempt to do this in SNW where she is constantly fighting to get to know Spock which Spock self-consciously discourages since he’s been told/shown that his human side is unappealing to Vulcans.  But yeah man idk...just picturing a Vulcan and a human talking for hours...walking along the beach...sleeping side by side...getting to know one another...and at the end of it all one says “You make me feel happy” and the other says “Your presence calms me” and it means, essentially, the same thing.

[liveyun]

𝐀 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐂 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 — 𝟏

banner by @itaeewon 🌹

pairing. min yoongi x female reader (oc)

genre. arranged marriage au, angst, fluff, eventual smut

w. mention of parent death,overthinking ; anxiety, smoking, yoongi falls sick; he's confused; fluff?

wc. 10k 🤕

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The voices in his head refuse to shut up.

He's driving back home, but his wish to lie in bed has long faded. A bitter taste lies on his tongue for now, constantly feeling the bile rise up to his throat and making him want to puke out.

The wind flushing against his skin is freezing cold; but he doesn't think of the cold or the autumn wind now. Neither the smell of stir fried Kimchi nor the smell of fried chicken or the snacks and meals, for he's passing through the streets of Seoul right now, a starless, dark night.

But the smell of fried Kimchi pancakes seems to have paused his flurry of thoughts, if anything, the smell: the smell itself provides a small comfort to him. If it would've been some other day, he thinks, Jeongguk might've dragged him here and made him eat till they belched and slept with full, happy stomachs. It wasn't often that he used to visit the streets or pass by them; and neither was it often when he used to eat out. But if by any chance it'd be an outing, or a random pass-by the streets, with Jeongguk , he'd know that he's not gonna return home with an empty stomach.

That kid had a bottomless appetite and seeing how enthusiastic he was about his food made Yoongi feel full.

Yeah, he was invited to dinner meetings all the time, but the familiarity of a homely place like such where one didn't have to pretend, to be prideful or maintain fine airs about them, or couldn't burp or sigh at the taste of the delicious food, was not it. Or could wipe your runny nose at the spicy seasoning floating through your taste buds. Something as mundane as chewing felt like a sin in such places.

They're meant to be just for business. Nothing else.

But here, you can curse and swear with soju running raw in your blood, enjoy the local cuisine market on screen with elderly uncles; letting yourself free without any worries for tomorrow. A place where you weren't monitored all the time; or were expected to behave; a place like such, Yoongi realized, he cannot recall if he had recently visited.

A very strange sense of nostalgia washes over him.

A very weird one. He didn't know if such nostalgia was supposed to feel this intense, not when he has memories floating in front of his eyes.

He almost feels like he's seeing everything in front of him. He doesn't realize his pupils are shaking wildly because it's all the memories which are flooding in his system, the memories which he has already buried within the cobwebs of a dungeon in his heart and never wants to pull them out. His throat feels dry, and even a huge gulp of saliva doesn't help.

It's funny how tight situations can have variations too.

He feels the taste fresh in his mind, his mouth. The taste of flesh against his own mouth, rough and inexperienced, hot and needy. So hot, so raw, the breath and the bitterness of coffee his own tastebuds tasted as his warm muscle sneaked into the cavern, wet and warm, full of smokey eagerness: he had wished the night never to stop.

He did not want the night to break to dawn.

His first kiss.

Funny, because the younger him had drowned in the feeling, and the feelings, the raw actions were seemingly reciprocated with such urgency, that his own hands were restless, roaming all over where they could reach the soft, warm flesh,and how he wanted that time never to end. His veins were caught in a fire he burnt himself in, a burn which has left scars forever in their wake.

Once started, everything has its end destined in the pathway.

Daegu. A similar, very similar fast food street. In between the dark, damp walls where the rotten leftovers were left to the scavengers,were possibly dumped, the smell so pungent and foul, a place so dimly lit, but the flames inside his heart were bright enough to burn the whole place.

He hadn't thought of how terrible the place was, or how it grossed him out now. The memory of the place is hazy, just as fragments of burnt paper, but the feelings still coursed through his veins like hot iron. And so the blurred lights of the stalls merge with his sight now to his memory, and suddenly, it stops.

The nostalgia felt like the dust flying in a hot summer noon, like the loo, which everyone tries to avoid.

And the tightness in his chest isn't nearly as tight as it used to be all the times the memories flooded him.

He doesn't really like nostalgia. It is a feeling which always hangs within your memories, a strange emotion which always leaves a trail of melancholy behind it, no matter how good the nostalgia might feel to be. No: there's always a feeling, ratther, a question in your mind about what if. A desire to live a life based on the past, totally ignoring how good your present can be.

Humans are never really happy with whatever they own, because suddenly they know the worth after it's already too late. You can only mourn.

But not anymore, though.

" Yoongi? "

Broken from his trance, Yoongi looks to the source of the voice. Even before looking at the person he knows it's him through the smooth, steady voice. An unfairly proportioned, carved-by-the-god-who-took-her-time face, with curious, bright almond eyes almost covered with black, fluffy tresses of hair greets him.

Ah, yes, he has to crane his neck up to look at the man.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, his senior, and one of his bestest business partners one can ever wish for. A friend he always looked up at. (quite literally?) The CEO of Kim Corp., Seokjin might be a man better visioned, more experienced, more thorough, and even more free-minded than Yoongi is, with a sense of humor enough to make you wheeze till tears on a gloomy day, or even annoy you at your best. An unfairly handsome man who seemed to age backwards and maybe could accidentally be casted to any movie and you won't even catch him slip.

One of the bestest friends you could ask for.

Yoongi found himself smiling at him more widely than he was used to.

"Hyung. "

The older man's eyebrows shoot up at the sky. Sure, he has seen Yoongi smile, or try his hardest to feign to do so too, but oh boy. You don't see Min Yoongi grinning at you often, for why the grin seems a bit too genuine ( mind you, he was more than happy to see him smiling like that. A smile which he feels can brighten up anyone's day.) : a smile which somehow made the cheese tteokbokki resting in his tummy dance, but well...

For now, all he does is offer the plate of cheese corn dog, piping hot towards the grinning man, silently urging him to take one.

“I'm sure my eyes don't spread misinformation, but is this really Min Yoongi whom I'm seeing here at this street, standing here, letting the world look for free?”

"I definitely cannot tell you about your eyes, if you offer your corn dogs to every stranger you meet on the street...so I can't really tell if it's anything to you, though. ''

Yoongi shrugs, and Seokjin rolls his eyes, wrapping his free arm around Yoongi's smaller figure with a snort, leading him to the stalls nearby, but not before flooding him with a river of questions to Yoongi who occasionally answers one or two.

“Jokes aside, I can tell you have a lot to tell me. Hey, don't gimme that weird stare: that works only with your officials. Tell me more, and all that can happen above a nice platter of crispy fresh kimchijeon, ha, the aroma!”

And Yoongi had no chance but to comply. Above all, he was thankful to have such a jouvial company at such a night.

“You gotta be shitting my dick.”

Seokjin audibly chokes on the bite of his crispy pancake, and with a muffled cough, looks up at Yoongi. He again has one of his expressionless façade on his face, and Seokjin just maybe needs some time to process the why's and how's of questions popping in his head.

“I'd rather prefer a toilet.”

Yoongi says that almost nonchalantly, as if he's discussing how hot Seoul is. Unbelievable, but so Yoongi of him, he thinks. He shallows down his food, and presses his lips to a straight line, which screams that if you don't tell me right now...

and Yoongi knew that look way too well.

But however, again it surprises Yoongi himself again as all that he does is to shrug with a smug face and the man opposite him visibly frowns with his jaw open.

" Yoongi, my dude, you're getting married. You're getting married ! That too, all of a sudd— ”

Seokjin puts down his chopsticks to the plate, shaking his head as he gulps his food down. Shit, he was nearly choking on his rice..

“You- you're on the top among the powerful bachelors of South Korea, " Seokjin emphasizes with a click to his chopsticks, pointing it towards the man in the question.

“The last time I was told the stats, a certain Kim Seokjin was on the top, actually..”

Yoongi shrugs again, raising his brows with a playful smirk which only infuriates the man opposite to him. With the same energy, Yoongi clicks the chopsticks back, making a small circle in the air with the edge.

“It's you, actually..”

"Hey, that's not at all what I meant! "

Seokjin’s voice is full of excitement, pitched to the extent that Yoongi slightly flinches at the intensity. It's high enough for the customers beside their tables to peer curiously at them, some frowning or some chuckling. Seokjin visibly flushes, and Yoongi has his lips pressed to a thin line now. He's trying his hardest not to cackle, and the older man looks like he's trying to spot a place to bury his grave and sink in.

Seokjin quickly snatches away a napkin to divert the attention, clearing his throat and wiping his grease smeared mouth with the napkin.

And then, with a far more hushed tone, he continues.

"Wanting to know about your tea was a bluff bro, a bluff ! It's not often I see you in a casual sweatshirt and jeans. It's not often I see Min Yoongi in front of me snacking on Yachaejeon like the good ol times. I just wanted you to eat.

To spend time with me. To gain some weight because you're skinny. Because you don't eat. I just thought we'd be either heading home sober, catching up with what we've left behind or get wasted on a bar stall later at night, but you dropping a bomb like that wasn't it!"

“You're not calling my marriage 'your tea', are you, hyung?”

Yoongi's eyes are now narrowed to slits, almost like a cat’s when he's about to pounce on you, throwing daggers to Seokjin's way, who just nervously laughs, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"Definitely not, my dongsaeng, haha.. All what I was saying......is, that if it hadn't been our fateful meeting, would I have ever even known about this te— errr, your marriage? "

Yoongi shugs again.

"Don't think so. Word spreads fast. Mr. Kim hangs out often with the old man, so even if not, I was sure to be expecting your cheeky ass at my wedding, though. "

Yoonngi casually takes a sip of his soda, swirling the can in his hands to fizz it up, but soon realizes it has been a grave mistake to have said this to Seokjin who looks so shocked, almost to the point he sees his large, curious eyes glossy with fake emotion.

"This just proved you don't care about your hyung anymore."

Seokjin croaks, wiping the non existent tears from his cheeks. He almost looks like a dejected hamster, Yoongi thinks, but keeps that to himself. Yoongi is about to respond, when Seokjin suddenly scoots closer to him, and almost squeaks. He was almost lured to think that Seokjin was offended, but the mischievous glint in his eyes tell otherwise.

"Tell me, have you seen them already or not? Or shared a text? "

"I met her in person today itself, some few hours ago. I kid you not, hyung, don't- don't stare at me like that,” he quickly retorts as he sees how Seokjin's eyes widen comically, a thick eyebrow arching, “Your eyes shall pop out of your sockets if you do so. "

But just as soon, Yoongi watches his expressions go devoid of any amusement, exactly as he sees him during the office hours. Like the CEO Kim everyone knows and shits in fear, too.

Still not as serious as that, because the glint still sparkles in his eyes and food is stuffed in mouth, making his cheeks squish out as he chews noisily.

" Tell me, what is she like? "

RECEIVED : 8:20 AM

seokjin hyung : Another day, another slay 🔥

wake up lazy cat

bruh

…

RECEIVED : 8:35 AM

hey plz check i sent some money to u. get some food ur skinny

SEEN 8:35 AM

me : it's not there

RECEIVED 8:40 AM

seokjin hyung : HA

HELL OF A MEAN GUY YOU'D CHECK ONLY FOR MONEY! 💔

SEEN 8:45 AM

me : i’m a businessman for a reason.

RECEIVED 8:45 AM

seokjin hyung : rude (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

SEEN 8:58 AM

me : 👍

RECEIVED 8:58 AM

seokjin hyung : i hope u haven't forgotten abt our deal

SEEN 9:20 AM

?

RECEIVED 9:20 AM

seokjin hyung : what.

DELIVERED 10:00 AM

me : o yea i forgo

Yoongi makes a small tsk as his fingers accidentally tap on the send option, without him getting the chance to type the last "t".

And it somehow surprises him, because Seokjin, who replies within seconds, hasn't responded back, yet, and already two minutes have passed.. suddenly, a ping makes him look back to his screen and surprisingly the sound came from the talkie on his desk , now ringing continuously.

He receives the call, and is greeted by the crisp voice of his secretary. However, he's quick to recognise the distaste in his voice, too. But he doesn't press on it, because as far his voice is normally just as professional as he usually maintains, and is good at it. His voice is crisp, but Yoongi can read the irritation well-hidden behind it.

" Good morning, Mr. Min. May I let you know your schedule for today?”

“Well, Jeon, I suppose you know better?"

With a quick hum, Yoongi now sees the tabulated form of his schedule on his laptop screen. Cool, just as he thought it would be.

Another meeting with the designer group Jung's for the winter fashion week collaboration, which should end by almost 11:45, or max 12.

Okay. One excursion to the base point of d-7 duplex. Should stretch till 12:30, alright, another visit to the sketching department to see the collaboration work in progress, and the estimated time for visual sketches is done already? Impressive. Reviewing these would take his most time, as he is supposed to be commenting on them all before the designs are confirmed for the higher base project.

Maybe that's one of his favorite things to do, because he loves to see the raw skills float in front of him, the passion in their explanations, such young aspiring artists blooming with their artwork, and the creativity in their visualization of the ideas he could only admire as outfits.

He's glad to have such skilled visual artists as the roots of d-7,which he hopes he can express his gratitude once apart from a way other than just paying them wages..

Visual designing may seem easy, but there's really nothing in this world called easy.

Visual des-

“after years of applying and getting rejected, it was the last chance for me to be finally a visual designer for Valentino,which despite having many limitations,is the star of my dreams; only if I could attend the event at Singapore past this month, which on my presence, would approve me for so in the last streak. But past this month....”

His mind wanders back to your sweet face. That was random. The sadness and the helplessness laced within your voice made him close his eyes, and just again, he feels as if he's back to yesterday on the balcony at the Park's, with you standing beside him...

“That chick would be lured in here to design for us, without any further queries. "

The sudden, bitter voice makes him snap his eyes open, focusing back to the screen. He couldn't just..

What's this?

13:00

Lunch with Mr. Old Min.

His first instinct is to call Jeongguk right away, and ask whatever the fuck is this.

Does that old bastard think that any circumstance like this would make him desirable enough to be seen daily? He can barely stand him for a few minutes, now, for lunch? It's not like he actually has ever maintained the ‘ideal’ father status ever even now or back when Yoongi was a kid.

Ha.

And for what, prey? If it's about any bullshit he spoke about yesterday, he wasn't sure if he could bear it anymore.

Yoongi wasn't sure if his suspicions were actually correct as he feels like a man like him would have nothing to talk about but that, about how this marriage is a step towards his son's future, but he knows better.

It's all business to the old man.

He rubs his eyes, dejectedly. This is just the beginning of the day, and woah, what a start.

Well, he had no other options but just so exhale and say fuck it all, and start the day.

No matter how hard he tries to ignore the shrill, annoying voice of the lady in charge presenting the presentation, a draft of the outfits designed inspired by the renaissance, he cannot help it. He doesn't even know how and why are the sparkling elements added to the outfits relevant to the era where everything designed was a result of prolonged, deep thinking. When people were evolving.

Elegance and sophistication were a close observation, but chic was not the style how Renaissance was based on. And this lady is trying her best to explain otherwise, saying that maybe these are inspired but they as well should have the cliche of the 21st century as well, as Yoongi thinks that it's not at all a good idea.

Blending trends with the original idea might not be the best out there, especially when it feels like the outfit design looks rather frumpish.

The lady in charge is simply groveling to win hearts but by the bored looks, Yoongi knows that many are thinking similar to what he is. Yoongi was rather impressed at how fast the design was finished earlier in the day, but now he feels that maybe it was all in vain. There's a small spark of hope inside him which says that maybe the other team has a better idea than this, and let time be no further wasted in this experiment.

It could've been, only if the theme was different.

He tries to keep a straight face, maintaining his professionalism with a rigid posture. A quick peek all over the conference room convinces him just exactly that his thoughts match with everyone else in this room, especially the head of the illustration team, whom he's acquainted with. Jung Hoseok. Everyone else in this room is at least trying to suffice the bland explanations, but he's not at all even trying. He looks pissed, his eyes shooting such criminal offensive side eye glances that Yoongi almost wishes to laugh, but he knows better.

A glance to Jeongguk, and he sees the poor kid struggle to keep himself from frowning, hard. Jeongguk is one of the most creative people he has ever seen, and he often wonders why he is not putting his skills at the right place, rather than having a major in business and being in that field.

To be the jack of all trades is hard, but Jeongguk excels them all.

Besides, most of today's schedules were totally messed up, and the meetings one after one were delayed for one reason or another. It's nearly 12:30, he notices by the giant wall clock above the whiteboard. The toe of his left shoe taps slightly to the floor with a rhythm, getting roasted second by second by the never ending speech.

He only wishes if the main points were jotted down here..

“Painters like Michelangelo, made it clear with the carving of—”

“ It would be much appreciated if the real point is explained, rather than just beating around the bush, Miss Choi. Irrelevance is highly avoided. ”

Hoseok’s raspy voice takes over the shrill voice of the lady who visibly is embarrassed, too flustered to gather the correct words to speak. Yoongi is somewhat thankful that someone finally spoke up, but he feels a tad bit bad for the girl : her idea was nice, and rather creative, just not fitting the winter nor the theme actually fit for the week or the topic. Or is it actually the nervousness which seems to creep out from her to him making him feel bad for her, because a few moments ago, Yoongi himself was close to losing it all.

His words have her fumbling with her files, something Yoongi knows is because of fear.

His gaze meets her nervous ones right to the opposite end of the table, and he sees defeat in them right in the moment he sees the pupils shake. He's been in this field for way too long to understand that helplessness, that dejection.

He sees her step back with a bow, mumbling something which he couldn't hear. She nods lightly, and sweeps back to her destined place.

Yoongi silently wishes if she could fight back for herself. If she could point out the valid information, but seems like she wasn't prepared for that. She wasn't prepared to be interrupted, too.

And so it's not really surprising when he notices the whole conference room having a thick air of tension and Yoongi does not have to assume anything. The members of the Illustration team are visibly intimidated by their head, who's now tonguing the inside of his cheeks, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.

Yoongi knows that the prompt response has been shit from his side— he doesn't even know who's to blame now.

Maybe he needs to speak up.

“Rather strange for the total prompt, but overall, better than what has been used for add ons, ” Yoongi begins, attracting the attention of the whole team, and everyone present seems to be a bit more attentive, a bit better with their posture, including Hoseok as well, whose eyes are on him.

All eyes are on him.

Normally, or even in a parallel universe, or him some ten years ago would've freaked out, fidgeted, squirmed on his seat- but now he barely feels the effect on him. It's all a daily basis thing, all calculating eyes on you and all what you're left behind is to just think, think and think about what meaning they could possibly hold behind them. Nervousness and fear flooding in your veins you're left with sweaty palms and a quivering mind, but for Yoongi, he was used to it all.

He does not care now.

“ Mr. Min, I think better— ”

Hoseok begins but Yoongi knows what he's about to speak on. He wishes the prompt to be given to Yoongi’s department. Yoongi wishes otherwise, because just because of a mismatch of prompts, he doesn't want any more dilemma to choose— the Jung team is overall flooded with skill, and he wishes them to bloom; he knows that this batch was particularly picked for the newcomers who are freshly picked from the team of art and management resources. D-7 are a group of professionals, but Jung Team are known to be ametures.

He scrolls mindlessly through the internet, but maybe not too mindlessly.

And so he raises a palm to stop the younger man speaking, and thinks it is rather bold of him to quirk a brow in return. Well yes, maybe he wasn't used to being questioned after that, so. Maybe he wasn't used to it all.

“ I think a few modifications need to be done at some point, otherwise it's all good. ”

He sees Hoseok's jaw drop slightly. He sees all the other members present in the room having their eyes widened, including the girl who was just presenting— What did they expect? Yoongi watched the gears in their brain work quickly, and by the time Yoongi spun the paperweight in his fingers, he blinked at Jeongguk, and the younger quickly took the initiative.

Funny, he thinks, because never in these ten years had Yoongi ever been so in place with an assistant, and it has been seven years since Jeongguk has been his assistant. Never had he ever talked about how a blink, not even a nod could signal him to do the deed of ending for the day.

Well, Jeongguk knows him just as he knows Jeongguk, he thinks. Maybe, maybe it's not vice versa to this point.

Subconsciously, his lips quirk upwards at the sight of the younger getting up, fixing his coat.

“ I think we should wrap up for the day, everyone. ”

His voice, professional as ever, echoes in the room and suddenly everyone's business like manners breaks, relaxing in their seats. Yoongi too, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding onto.

Jeongguk’s round eyes meet his own, and Yoongi nods, slowly watching the members leave one by one, a small hum of conversation peeking in between them all. It's rather comfortable , he thinks. Yoongi relaxes back in his seat, loosening up his tie knowing well that his schedule for the day has ended. Well, not really—

“ It was gracious of you, hyung. ''

his eyes flick through to see Hoseok’s curious eyes set on him, and in his peripheral vision can see Jeongguk cock a brow at him, somewhat questioning like. Hoseok’s cold and competent demeanor has been shed off totally, as his child-like countenance holds surprise towards him.

“ That was the least I could do, Hoba. ”

Yoongi replies with a short hum, and he knows that the human bunny must have his eyes jumping out of his sockets to hear him talking to someone informally, something which doesn't happen often in the office premises. Hoseok’s face blooms in a heart shaped smile, his whole soul brightening up. That's a contagious smile.

He hears a sound of surprise from Jeongguk, on turning to him. He assumes that he's great at hiding that too, because he quickly clears up his throat and nods. Yoongi smiles a bit at him, and upon collecting the files, the three men head out for the rest of the day.

Yoongi is trying his best to not just fucking slam the plate of roasted shrimp on this man’s face.

He wishes absolutely nothing but a comfortable bed because his back hurts from sitting in such a straight posture for hours, not even having the time to stretch his aching limbs. Not to mention this uncomfortable suit which was once comfortable, but he's been wearing it since the morning— is he to blame?

oof, a part of him wished to roam nakey nakey in his home, but that..eh, cannot be.

He totally cannot ignore how fancy this place is, and he can see the whole Seoul from the large, spacious windows. Rooftop restaurants usually feel nice with a vibe so free and open, but not in front of this man who makes him want to deliver straight punches on his face and dislocate his jaw. The younger him was forced to oblige by his father's commands, but the him now doesn't see why can't he just fucking trash this old man till he—

He bites back the anger rising up to his throat. It's not often his father wishes to “ see him ” and be polite all of a sudden, not when it's because of him Yoongi has a bitter time managing something he didn't wish to even engage in. But maybe he has long gone through the stages of grief and acceptance has been his companion, so he has to grit his teeth the hardest to tolerate it all. He has seen it all. He has endured it all. Does he still have to?

“ Why aren't you eating, son? ” Oh, right. You wanted me to be here just to eat.

“ I’m not hungry. ”

Yoongi tries, or desperately hopes his lie isn't blatantly obvious, because he knows his tummy has been rumbling for an hour or so, but there's no way he'd be dining with this man. Not only does he hate how this old man has no etiquettes, chewing loudly or arguing with a damn waiter for a toothpick, he also hates his presence in common.

If he knows Yoongi well, Yoongi knows him just as well too, to know that this is just an excuse and he wishes to do something else, and that's enough to silence down his hunger.

“ Have you chosen any destination for the wedding as of yet?”

I knew it. Yoongi knows how selfish this man can be, and for him this question doesn't make any literal sense. He just met you yesterday, and there's no way..he expects Yoongi to move so fast, like that. What does he think he's in, 526 AD?

“ No. ”

Yoongi found himself speaking before he could think properly, seeing the old man in front of him wipe his mouth and cock a brow. Alright, if he's trying to communicate silently.. he guesses time has taught him better. To keep this non permeable layer on the top of his persona especially infront of this man, he knows he does it well. He won't utter a single word, because for the sake of fuck, he just saved your number in his phone a few hours ago! You cannot just expect him to do anything related to the marriage so quick, especially when his father's initiative had him tossing around his bed sleeplessly the whole night.

He would not let him use his fiancee for the profit of his own company. It's fucked up, not only in a single way but more than one. He's not much of a family guy, but marriage cannot be one sided- and for you, maybe he's lowering himself down enough to try and be a good guy for you, but does this old man ever even think of something which isn't business?

“ Do you not think time’s enough? You were told about the marriage a week ago already, ”

the man's voice has annoyance laced within, and Yoongi nearly snorts at his audacity.

“ Is it your wedding or mine, father? ”

“ You need to make it quick, ”

his retort comes back, and Yoongi can't help but feel satisfied at his growing anger. He knows to play the game, because this old man has been acting as if it's his own marriage. First, he gives you no other options and keeps on his emotional blackmail of never getting a partner who has been in his life for more than a year, second, for how it can benefit the Min family as the only heir.

Yoongi has long ago swept away the anger suppressing the guilt of his own mother being in his life for less than his teenage years, but he's tired. He kept on running forward without noticing how much this old man hurt him, but there has to be a time where you need to stand up. Maybe not for yourself, but for people who're soon going to be a part of your life. It's not always about yourself, but people you care about.

Yoongi found it ridiculous. Marriage just to make kids and raise them up like a handful of peas let out in a open windowsill. Just to make kids. And even possibly, money.

Yoongi found the idea suffocating at first. His own parents’ failed marriage had a big contribution in his way of thinking how arranged marriage can also be a forced marriage if the goal is only to lengthen the generation, not at all thinking that the parents involved are also humans. Humans with feelings cannot be forced to live a life destined to be forever with expectations, which could often either lead to success or failures. But to Yoongi, success in lives like these were forced failures masked with the stench of cash to make them look lavish.

So the thought of making it "quick" is enough to make him hiss in irritation. His eyes are now narrowed to slits towards the old man, anger slowly making its way to fog his already hunger ridden brain..

“ Why. ”

“ I've already told you, son. ”

“ What, Yeseul isn't talented enough as you promised she was to the team? ”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, visibly watching the old man try his hardest not to crumble down to flames. Comically, one would see smoke coming out of his ears. It makes Yoongi snorts out a humorless snort.

“ It's none of your business, do you get that? ”

The old man nears slightly with his neck down, eyes set firmly on Yoongi. As a child, the stare used to scare him the fuck out of his balls, but now this stare is enough to make him stifle a laugh. The manipulative stare which he expects everyone to become his puppet with. Well, I just hit his nerve.

“ My wedding, and none of my buisness, you say? ”

“There are other ways I can ask her to, I'm just trying to make it seem well ordered. ”

Again he goes. The same manipulative tone. If he thinks that his position can get him everything, maybe even if his arms reach longer than Yoongi’s imagination do, but Yoongi knows it well that he's all bark but a rare bite.

He would not let this happen. He knows his father is a corrupt man, who uses unfair means in his business. This is why D-7 is owned solely by Yoongi, who was once under partnership with his father. Yoongi has totally bought all the shares, making D-7 go public and him being the biggest investor. Thrusting in people not eligible enough to be in art, his father had already infected the industry more than enough, and now he wouldn't absolutely let the small shares marking the small partnership to the old man rise up.

“ Genuinely asking you. You could've opted any other way you're insinuating, but why this, out of many? ”

Not a pretence, but out of pure curiosity. He may as well as think this to be many reasons why he can bother Yoongi, but the pricking question hanging in the margin of the sword, that the danger lies just in the end.

Nepotism can be buried by the strength of dollars, but in some cases revolting unscrupulous businessmen like him, he knows that this would be a hot topic for the media. And the mere thinking of using someone so innocent and dragging to this pit of hell is honestly enough for him to throw up. You're already a hell of a talented designer, and if he wishes to invest your designs under the name of his good for nothing wife to whoosh up the sales, he'd rather not marry you.

That's.. a different thing now, isn't it?

His father keeps quiet. Yoongi feels the burn of his stare digging holes in his skull, however, lets out a deep laugh at the end.

“I guess you're naive enough to not know how profitable it can be for both : her, you, and even me.”

“ At least I know for Yeseul, it is not. ”

“ She's your mother,”

Stepmother, he almost wishes to hiss the word out, but saying it out loud would definitely make bile rise up to his mouth, because his already starving self cannot physically bear any more stress than already he has been carrying around. He's not ashamed to say that his stepmother is younger than Yoongi himself, and an absolute gold digger, who he doubts even has a degree of graduation.

Such an ostentatious person gets often compared to Mrs. Min, his mother by all the rising gossip every single day. Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, knowing that this conversation would rather have such wounds pricked up inside his heart which would have him bleeding longer than he could bear.

“ No. ”

He sees the old man flare his nostrils in anger, kissing his teeth: and Yoongi doesn't even feel a bit sorry for it. It is what it is. And he would not make any fuss about it. He'd rather call that woman his sister than his mother, and seriously? Yoongi doesn't give two flying fucks about who she is. Yesterday the discussion didn't go too well, and he felt a lot more bothered than his manifest could muster, but he knows that his father's current wife, Yeseul, has no skill or whatsoever to be the president of the corporation his father owns. It is what it is.

And not even an exaggeration, he knows that it's all the glitters and gold which attracts her to this sophisticated man; it wouldn't be long time from now when he'd be left again with a balding head and an empty bank account.

Someone younger than Yoongi himself and he wants to call them his parent.

Ha.

And that's the reason why the old man wishes to hire ____ to work under him, but in the end the credits would go to Yeseul, because apparently that woman had promised his team to be a better visualization designer.

He wants Yoongi to marry you, so that the hiring would seem rather natural, and Yoongi thinks that it would only drag you more to the mud of the industry and gossip, which he does not want.

“ More like my junior. ”

Yoongi cocks his brow, sipping some water from the glass nearby his wrist.

“ Remember that she's my wife. My legal wife, and your mother. ”

A bitter scoff escapes Yoongi, his nostrils flaring at his sentence as he peers down to his empty plate.

“ She is not my mother. ”

Yoongi makes sure he stresses on the word not, dragging out each syllable with a rough taste on his tongue. He can tolerate many things, but not the absence of his mother, which has left a gaping, open dent in his soul forever. The only gentle presence he ever had in his growing years was her, the only person he called his family, that too, is no longer present with you.. he could feel his stomach churn with anger.

He had a single mother. And though she was no longer with him, he does not consider anyone else to be in the same position as his mother. A mother who raised him up, sacrificing everything for him. Despite having another parent, him, he never even had his shadow touch any of them. He feels anger totally cloud his mind, now that the gentle touch of your soul had touched him, he was about to lose it all.

“ I fucking dare you to even lay a finger on ___, her you fucking stink. I’ll make sure that no amount of money can heal you afterwards.” Yoongi growls loudly, raising a sweaty palm up and ordering for the bill.

Yoongi is out of his head, and he totally has lost his sense of rationality. Triggering the pain of his dead mother along with barrelling his fiancee to this topic makes him a person he doesn't know yet. Yoongi is done with this conversation, this sick conversation about his morally grey buisness.

And he totally misses the somewhat shocked and fearful, agape mouth of the old man in front of him as Yoongi sweeps his coat out of the headrest after paying and marches out of the venue without taking a look back. his head is throbbing with pain and stomach is wild with ugly sensations.

He wishes to take this slow, talk to you more and atleast befriend you and be comfortable before any preparations, but this situation.. he doesn't fear his father anymore, but. It's you. It's you who he fears because of the industry, because of the dirt which smears every part of him. He's used to it, he had to make himself so, but he cannot let someone as pure as you be contaminated.

Once again it's all a haze infront of his eyes. The strong wind hitting his face from the open car window does nothing to soothe his burning thoughts, and neither does the low humming of music in the radio. It all feels a blur.

He remembers not much, or rather forces himself not to. After that, eh, meeting with that old man, the only thing he knew was to call Jeongguk and ask him to clear all his schedules for the day.

The voice from the other side sounded very concerned, but Yoongi is thankful he only asked whether he's alright and let the topic drop without dragging it much. He just hopes that Jeongguk understands. And then he's straight up driving somewhere he doesn't know where, but he's tired. Mentally, physically, and every way possible.

He's tired of thinking so much. He's so tired he totally missed the constant buzzing of his phone on the center console.

Little does he know that not receiving his calls has sent Seokjin to hayware.

All what he knows are the words, the flashes of memories which float infront of his eyes and the constant struggle to keep himself as where he is and not getting lost in the moment, to fall back within the memories. The constant ache in his head which replays your voice saying, “ I don't ” and the picture of your sweet face. The constant scowl he remembers of his father saying he wants him to marry you only for his own profit.

Did you really mean to sacrifice your passion for a stupid marriage?

His grip on the steering wheel is so tight, his knuckles have turned white. What if the old man approaches you and lures you to work for him? Yeah, of course for an outsider that business would look so organized, so well planned, but only people like Yoongi know the truth.

He's the sweetest to anyone who doesn't know him well. Hell, even he believes that the woman he married might not know him any better. He could sell your soul to anyone in front of you with you being totally oblivious.

All that glitters isn't gold.

He knows your passion for art even if he doesn't know you. He knows that maybe you'd be willing enough to work for that man, but would that be okay if that woman, Yeseul takes all the credits and you've lost your deserved recognition? Would you be able to manage to be afloat on the dirty smear of the industry without blaming yourself?

Would you hate him? He won't listen to shit. An artist has every rights to be credited and if it's snatched away by every means, he really wonders if you'd be alright with it. Alright with the theft. He doesn't gives a single fuck about the ever shitting media who just needs a topic to whisk on untill it's shit. He just cares about you.

Wait..

Does he—?

But one thing he already knows is that the news of his marriage would be enough of a bonfire starter.

He's now leaning on his car, aching limbs begging to have a seat but the tension in his spine doesn't budge.

Even if he had promised himself, he finds himself slipping down his mask, each time the memories of his happy self, his young happy self with his mother comes to his mind and the realization floats that he cannot rewind those memories any more. She's no longer with him.

All he knows is the burning sensation of nicotine filling his lungs all down to his toes, and the puff of smoke released out releases his tension, even by an inch if that is, too. He breathes out the smoke through his nostrils, fidgeting with the small silver lighter in his hand. He knows that it's a shitty, wrong way to cope up with anxiety , although his healing nails thank him for letting them be.

But at least the cigarette does not tell you anything. It does what it's supposed to do, what it's meant to do, what it's made to do, and dies.

So much like a human.

The park he's standing in the corner of is noisy, but somewhat tolerable. The warm air is making him feel stuffy, and the cool place has the least effect on him. The place feels..nice. He blinks twice, feeling his eyes burn with the hot weather, too.

Somehow his mind convicts back to you.

And somehow, knowing very well that his father's company is filled with back stabbers.. somehow if the information is leaked abroad, would you be alright?

God fucking damn it. Why is he thinking about all these when you're possibly oblivious and thinking of your marriage?

What are you doing now?

How are you?

How did your day go?

Why would you want to marry a guy like him?

All these thoughts are totally enough to make him squirm. Why does he care? He just met you yesterday. He knows not much except some things, but still, the pull to just know about you is eating him up right now. It's just crazy how the thought of you not liking him irks him a Lot, like, a Lot.

Shifting the cigarette to his left hand, he reaches to get his phone from the console. His throat feels dry as fuck, almost feeling as if it'd crack up.

He'd kill for a bottle of water, but well, even swallowing his saliva feels like a mountain breaking down on him. It's been a long time since he checked on his phone other than calling his secretary. He should've checked, because the upcoming projects do have connections to files which only he has access to. Well.

.. alright, there's a spam email.

…..next, a Google chrome updat—

…..?

…

[ Seokjin Hyung : 95 missed calls ]

[ Seokjin Hyung : 350+ unread messages ]

Yoongi felt a sweat bead run down his temple.

He totally forgot about the fact that he was supposed to meet Seokjin nearly an hour ago, and when he sees the endless thread of texts, he almost feels like tearing up.

The poor man had texted him since 12:30 asking if his schedule is light enough for their meeting, or he'd meet him some other day. The texts get vigorous after each text, angry emojis and random keyboard smashes asking him about his condition. The guilt is slowly building in his lower tummy to know how considerate his friend is, and how ignorant he was to him.

They had a deal about visiting the local mall and hitting the game zone, but..

He wishes to call him, so bad. His throat is running dry, and the throb of his head deepens, more. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he desperately wishes he had the courage to call him and talk, and maybe actually share his problems, but he knows Seokjin would be so mad… not that it's like Seokjin is a person who's out of control, but as a caring friend, he sometimes gets a bit overactive.

He knows Seokjin would be the only person who'd understand him better than anyone else, but maybe calling him after he's cooled down would be the best option. He knows Seokjin isn't that level headed, but he deserves an explanation, and maybe he isn't ready right now.

And so he leaves the texts as they are, texting back a single “i’ll call u back asap”, and navigates to his contact list. He's contemplating hard, right now. The “ favorite ” starred contacts stare at him, Seokjin, Jeongguk, Taehyung, and then..yours. His fingers hover over Seokjin’s for a while, and then, over yours.

Maybe it's not the right option to call you. Nope, not at all. Why would he even think that? You two aren't even friends. Not when he doesn't know if you're free enough to talk to him, not when he doesn't know if his call would be a disturbance.

Not when he feels like his call would annoy you. He shouldn't, because it's been just a day you've shared numbers, and wouldn't it be too early to call and just ask,“Hey, whatcha doing? ” Nah, that would be way too awkward. Way too—

“ Mr. Min? ”

A soft voice chirps beside him, knocking out all the air out of his lungs. He has never been this reactive to a voice, blame his fucked out state. He catches himself turning immediately to the source of the voice, arms beating flat against his windowsill, gasping.

Wildflowers.

He's met with a faint smell of honey, and jasmine, and the mixed smell of wildflower bouquet that greets him, the cluster of yellow and small lavender flowers resting with the lush greenery among them. His brows furrowed slightly at how a bouquet of flowers is what he sees in the beginning rather than the voice, but a small moment of realization takes place when he sees the person hiding behind the gigantic bouquet.

“ Fuck. ”

He doesn't notice how a cold breeze caresses his flushed, hot skin, as a pair of warm, doe eyes stare up at him.

You.

“ ____? ”

“ Did I scare you off? ”

Your lips quirk upwards, a hard attempt to hold back your giggles to see how flustered he looks, surprised till the extent you'd say, if comically, he looks like a cat caught playing with boxes at midnight with his fur sticking up in all the directions, wide eyed and mouth agape.

His eyes are still wide when he relaxes visibly in your presence, sighing down with a smile.

The faint smell of tobacco greets you and subconsciously scrunch up your nose. You're not a big fan of cigarettes, and maybe it's your instinct to shove away the smell. You didn't want to assume too much, but maybe you did get the bad boy vibes from this man. So his smoking didn’t really phase you as much as it should've.

Light beige shirt with rolled up sleeves and tailored pants. Pretty, flowy black hair parted on forehead, and pale skin flushed with a sheen layer of sweat. He looks really..handsome but also very adorable with those flushed cheeks, but also, so..tired at the same time.

His eyes scream for rest.

Out of so many people, you have to admit it. Min Yoongi was the least of your expectations. A simple walk from your favourite florist to back home, there's a lovely little park, where you often visit for giggles and laughs, and honestly speaking, you couldn't even imagine Yoongi standing there, even if it was in a far corner.

You didn't really wish to say that, but a La Rose Noiré standing in the corner had actually attracted more attention than he'd even ever intended to. Would that be a co-incidence to say that he didn't leave your mind even if he had physically left your home hours ago, and now that he's standing in front of you?

His eyes lack the glint they had yesterday. His shoulders seem unfairly tensed, even if his posture is leaned back. You don't know him, yet, but there's a certain hue of coldness around his shoulders, and all the calculating gazes and stares he gave you yesterday, you somehow found the way to nudge into the warmer side of him, or so you assume.

He doesn't seem to be the most affectionate of a person, or so you assume, again. The internet, irrespective of their own words, never fails to regard him to be made up of stone. Is that anything new, though? you beg to differ. His quick consideration of your whole situation despite being demanding for both of you assured you that this man wasn't the man stealing the headlines and trends on twitter. Even if that was the bare minimum, you appreciate it.

“ I— I just didn't expect you here. ”

His words lag behind with a flurry of coughs and furrowed brows, and you see him shuffling his phone back to his pocket, crushing his cigarette underneath his shiny black shoes meanwhile. He doesn’t seem too well, you see.

His skin is paler than usual, and his silky hair slightly unruly, some strands sticking to his forehead. His skin seems to be a bit more flushed, too. He seems uncomfortable in general, and he covers his mouth to sniffle back a sneeze.

“ Mr. Min, are you not well? ”

No verbal response comes back, but a quirk of brows is enough to answer you. So unreadable, you think. But it does not take rocket science to figure out, does it? Without thinking twice, your palms reach up to his slightly sweaty forehead.

You have to tip toe a bit to reach up to him, but that's alright. Was your palm too cool or his skin burning that it felt like his forehead was a preheated yok?

No, you realize.

“ Mr. Min, you're burning up! ”

Not much of a response comes back, but his eyebrows simply shoot up a bit more, and a bit more coughs which seems to have flushed his face, even more.

He grunts something in response but you miss it, and your palm cupping his warm (and surprisingly soft ) cheek, the action catching him and you both off guard. His eyes widen and so do yours, feeling a heat wave rush up to your face. He coughs, and you immediately remove your hands from his cheek, your palm tingling faintly afterwards. And maybe your whole body too, with embarrassment.

Dear god.

You didn't really mean anything….er. Having the habit of being a bit too affectionate to your siblings would actually make you slip accidentally, you couldn't even imagine. Especially when it's..your fiance.

“ S-sorry. ”

You cringe inwardly at how fucking small you sound, especially hating the stutter that came with it. You wish the earth could suck you up before this conversation advances, right here and right now. It was an accidental touch, a touch which was more instinctive than intentional, yet you do feel that fuzz in your stomach, the fuzz which makes your heart skip miles.

He gives you a small head shake, rubbing his neck with his hands, not before muttering out an it's okay.

You feel relieved a bit, knowing that at least you didn't creep Yoongi out. Or who knows. That undecipherable gaze, those dark brown pupils and that neutral expression. You cannot really say what's going inside his head, and you can only pray otherwise. Oh dear..

Only if you had known Yoongi, you'd have known the effect of your cool touch on the poor guy. Of course you'd miss how Yoongi's heart felt like it's up to his mouth, trying to jump off it's way out to you.

Fuck, what was happening with him?

( literally ).

“ Mr. Min, you need to get some rest. Your.. your fever’s quite intense. ”

You see him clear his throat, running a big hand through his ruffly hair. He nods with a sigh, and you actually notice how pale he looks. He looks disturbed, sick and tired all together, and you suddenly ponder how much and what actually happened to him to be this stressed, but you don't whip on it.

“ Have you eaten? ”

Even if he was already pale, you see color draining down from his face even more, almost as if he himself was yeeted to a moment of epiphany. He wets his lips with his tongue, shaking his head, silently eyeing you for your reaction.

He has not eaten anything as well.

“ Mr. Min, make a call to your home, right now. To whoever is waiting for you. ”

His face morphs to a baffled expression, and you have to think that this was the only expression he has clearly shown you today. But whatever it is. You nod as a confirmation, confusing him even further. As you were told, his father and he live alone separately, but there has to be someone back home, right ?

“ Mrs. Kang…my caretaker would be present at my house, but..why? "

His voice seems way too groggy for his own good, and you can't help but pinch your eyebrows in concern. It seems that even talking is taking a lot of effort for him.

“ Call her, and let her know you won't be home tonight. ”

You have to bite your inner cheek to process how the word home sounds when you say that out loud, because another expression breaks out on Yoongi’s face : his lips part in a slight pout, asking a silent explanation from you. Another small adorable expression.

You bite your lips to cease the smile wanting to break free to see this man so cute that you have to stop yourself from giving in and squishing his cheeks. Who'd know that such an intimidating guy such as himself would be a small, steamed mandu when confused?

Well, at least you didn't. Dear me, he's way too adorable for his own good.

That would be inappropriate. Not after whatever you’ve just done.

Mentally preparing yourself once again, you advance just a bit more closer to him, pretending to offer him the bouquet in your hands.

“ Because you'd be resting at my house today, Mr. Min. ”

a/n : hello and i hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of apricity 🤪 of course, this is an all new, re-written chapter which i finished in a single day after four months of procrastination 💪🏽🤕

all sorts of feedbacks are always welcome, and, i’m always open for an ask or a text hehe ;D

[ase-trollplays]

Getting Over It

*snap*

The tip of Thiomi's mechanical pencil broke for the fourth time as she was sketching, and the woman silently gritted her teeth and impatiently tapped the eraser to reveal more lead. She was behind on commissions again and hoped to get some warm-up sketches in before starting on her work proper, but her restraint was beginning to wane.

She shouldn't have even approached her. She knew it was going to be an unpleasant interaction. It always is when it comes to her.

Of course she's not sorry. She's never sorry for anything wrong she does, that bitch.

In fact, if not for Thiomi making herself known, she probably wouldn't have even noticed h--

*snap*

"Dammit!"

The sound of paper flapping was followed by a loud THUMP as the sketchbook hit the wall, followed by a thud as it fell uselessly to the ground, and Thiomi balled her hands into fists at her desk with tears threatening to well in her orange-tinted eyes.

She knew talking to her would only make her angry. She knew she wouldn't get the reaction from her that she wanted. She knew it was a mistake, so why did she do it? Why did she bother approaching that spiteful, wretched, insensitive--

"Well shoot, what's got ya doin' all that clickin', miss ma'am?"

Thiomi darted her head toward the doorway to her room where Corali stood with a bowl of sliced pears. Only now did Thiomi take note of the loud throat clicking emanating from her. She quickly unballed her fists and laid her hands flat on the table and unhunched her shoulders as she relaxed her jaw. The clicking slowly subsided as she stood up from her desk and made her way over to her moirail to accept the pears.

"It's nothing," Thiomi responded curtly and took the bowl from her. Corali glanced to the side and eyed the battered sketchbook on the ground before gently picking it up and unwrinkling the bent pages.

"Them eyes a yers're tellin' a different story," Corali remarked with a cross of her arms as Thiomi shoved a large pear slice in her mouth and took her time chewing as if to avoid answering.

"It's just an art block," she lied through her teeth before stuffing her mouth with another large slice. The taller troll narrowed her eyes slightly, then sighed.

"Bullshit it is. Meemaw an' I could hear ya from downstairs. There ain't no amount a art block that could cause that," Corali said bluntly. Thiomi seemed to deflate for just a moment before steeling her gaze, which she kept firmly on the pears. Corali could hear the unspoken "It's not your business" like an airhorn in her ears, and she narrowed her eyes at her and glared like a disappointed parent.

"I'm fine," Thiomi answered curtly and went to angrily eat another pear, but Corali snatched the bowl away from her before she could silence herself again. She now turned her venomous glare at her moirail and opened her mouth to protest, which Corali immediately halted.

"Yer a shit liar. Tell me what's the matter," Corali demanded.

"I s-said it's nothi--"

"An' I'm sayin' it ain't nothin'. You were perfectly fine 'til ya went out, an' when ya came back I could feel the anger comin' off ya like steam out a shower. I thought givin' ya space ta simmer down would help, but if yer gonna lie ta my face then I ain't gonna keep playin' nice about it. I'm yer pale! Why can't ya tell me what's gotcha fumin'??"

"Because you can't help! You can't fix it, s-so why bring it up!?" Thiomi spat with a barely subdued growl. The tears she was suppressing followed through on their threat and came streaming down her cheeks, and she furiously wiped them away on the sleeve of her sweater.

Corali relaxed her glare and sighed before pulling the angrily crying woman into a one-armed hug. As rare as it was to see such a gentle and soft-spoken woman loudly and aggressively angry, Corali didn't flinch at the sight. She knew anger like a childhood friend, a warm security blanket to protect her from fear and abuse like a shield.

A shield she was recently forced to abandon before its heat could burn her any further.

"Maybe yer right, an' I can't fix what's wrong, but that don't mean I can't help," Corali assured her and hugged her just a little bit tighter. Thiomi didn't hug back, but she visibly relaxed against her.

******************************************************

"Her name's S-shadah. We were kismeses s-sweeps ago. The relationship only lasted a s-sweep and a half, and s-she s-spent at least half of it cheating on me before leaving me altogether for her mistress."

Thiomi sat curled against Mousemom's side and leaning against Corali. The bowl of pear slices sat empty in Thiomi's lap as she held her moirail's hand. Her grip was strong and tight with repressed rage, but the metal appendage was more than capable of handling it. Corali couldn't stop a glare from appearing on her face, but it paled in comparison to the scowl Thiomi wore.

"Tch. What a fuckin' bitch. I ain't ever understood the point a cheatin'. If y'ain't happy just break up outright instead a stringin' someone along an' goin' behind their back," she said.

"Exactly! We could have talked and maybe worked s-something out, and if it couldn't be s-saved, then we could have at least broken up on good terms! But instead, s-she s-spent half a s-sweep lying to me!" Thiomi agreed. She growled and ground her teeth as lukewarm tears continued to fall.

"I know I'm not naturally competitive, but if s-she'd just told me s-she wasn't happy, I would have tried harder. S-she was the first person I ever fell pitch for. I hated her arrogance, her selfishness, how loudly and unapologetically disrespectful and rude and s-spiteful s-she is, but s-she's also confident, and headstrong, and determined, and proud... S-she was perfect, and... And--"

Thiomi choked on her last statement and grabbed the bowl in her lap to launch it across the room in frustration. The plastic bounced harmlessly across the floor slinging pear juice with every impact. With a heavy breath, she hid her face in her hands and loudly cried out her rage and hurt. Corali slung her arm around her and pulled her close. Mousemom gave a few concerned squeaks as she listened to her ward's distress, and Corali gently papped her large snout to ease her a bit.

"Why couldn't I be enough for her?? Why couldn't s-she just-- just talk to me!? Why did s-she have to lie to me for half a s-sweep?! I can't-- I can't even think about that quadrant now! How can I trust I won't be hurt again?? That I'm ever going to be enough for anybody!!" Thiomi wailed and slammed her fists against her crossed legs just to release at least a fraction of the tension and angry energy, and Corali made no move to stop her. She'd been carrying around and hiding this anger for sweeps.

Venting was the best thing she could do for herself.

When her rage entered another lull, Corali finally spoke up again. "An' then ya ran inta her while you were out an' about."

"Y-yeah. I was an idiot to approach her at all, but I-I wanted her to be s-sorry. I knew s-she wouldn't be, because s-she's never s-sorry, but..."

"But ya still wanted some kinda acknowledgement that she knew she was wrong. Just somethin', anythin' at all to show she has at least a fraction of a conscience," Corali finished, and Thiomi could only bite her lip and nod in confirmation.

"S-she told me it was my own fault our relationship failed. That not holding her interest forced her to look for s-someone else because I never measured up. S-she called you a downgrade from S-sonja because 'at least he's a highblood,' and 's-settling for the lowest s-society has to offer' means s-she was right to dump me s-since i'm 's-such a joke.'"

Corali could feel her own anger start to well up hearing the brutal dressing down she received. However, rather than contribute to the Shadah hate train, she stood up and walked toward the couch, removed the cushions, and set them in a heap in front of Thiomi.

"What are you doing?" Thiomi asked in confusion as she watched Corali head to the cleaning closet in the kitchen and pull out the broom. She walked back to her, grabbed one of her hands and hoisted the small woman onto her feet with a single yank. Thiomi squeaked in surprise and nearly lost her balance from the sudden motion, but Corali was quick to catch her and straighten her up.

"We're gon' do a li'l thing called catharsis. See, yer gonna take this broom here an' beat the everlovin' shit outta them cushions," Corali told her matter-of-factly. "Hit 'em as hard an' as much as ya need. Trust me, as the expert on bein' angry, it'll feel damn good."

Thiomi stared at Corali, then the couch cushions, then the broom as it was forced into her hands. Broom, Corali, cushions, Corali, broom. Her incredulous gaze went back and forth for a few moments.

"You want me... to hit my cushions?"

"Them ain't yer cushions. They're Shadah's smug bitch face. Show that jackass what for!"

"I... I don't--"

"Here, lemme help getcha started," Corali said with a grin as she lifted up a cushion and held it in front of her. "Yer a spineless li'l wimp what couldn't fight her way outta a wet paper bag. I'm the best yer ever gon' get, an' ya fuckin' fumbled it. An' leavin' a purple fer a rusty? Pathetic."

"Y'all gonna take that lyin' down?" Corali prodded. Thiomi gripped the broom in her hand and gave the cushion a weak swing.

"Y'all call that a swat? I been bit by mosquitoes with more punch than that! Hit me fer real, or are ya too weak??"

"I'm not weak!" Thiomi raised her voice and took another swing, this one noticeably harder than the first.

"Them love taps say otherwise! C'mon, that can't be all ya got!"

"I s-said I'm not weak!" Smack!

"That's more like it! Tell me how ya really feel!"

"I hate you!" Smack! "I wish I never met you!" Smack! "You don't deserve your quadrants!!" Smack!! Smack!!

"An' why d'y'all wish ya never met me, huh!?"

"Because you s-suck!!" SMACK!! "You're a liar!" SMACK!! "And s-selfish!" SMACK!! "And the worst!" SMACK!! "Person!" SMACK!! "I ever!" SMACK!! "Met!!!" SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!

"There we go! Keep goin'! Show that bitch she's a waste a meat an' air!!" Corali cheered as her moirail finally let go and started wailing on the cushion, all the while yelling and venting everything she'd been holding back for sweeps. Her onslaught only stopped when she accidentally walloped Corali in the face. She yelped and dropped the cushion, and Thiomi's rage almost immediately vanished as concern overtook her. She cast the broom aside and tried to get a good look at Corali's face to check for any bruising. Corali, rather than be upset, cracked up laughing as she allowed Thiomi to examine her.

"Oh my god, I'm s-so s-sorry! I didn't mean to get s-so carried away!" Thiomi sputtered, but Corali brushed off her apology with a half-hearted wave of her hand and nudged her away.

"S'alright, miss ma'am! I fight yer matesprit, remember? I been hit with way worse than a li'l ol' broom ta the face. What about you, though? Felt pretty good to let loose, right?" Corali asked with a goofy grin. Thiomi fussed with the hem of her shirt as if she was embarrassed to answer.

"Ye... Yeah, it kinda did," she answered meekly with a small smile.

"Hahaha, the way you were swingin', I'd say 'kinda' is a understatement," Corali laughed and ruffled her moirail's hair before picking up the cushions and putting them back on the couch. As she was about to take a seat, Thiomi grabbed her around the middle and gave her a tight hug.

"Thanks," she said sweetly. "Nothing will fix what happened, but... but I can live with that."

"Good. One li'l beat 'em up session ain't gonna be enough ta heal how bad you were hurtin', but at least ya got some a that anger out now instead a hidin' it."

"Yeah. Next time I s-see Kamava, I'll tell her about S-shadah and s-see what s-she s-says."

"Atta gal," Corali said and leaned down to plant a small kiss on the top of her head. "Yer gonna be just fine."

[genesisvirus]

(The void returns)

You wake up to the slam of wood and paper together and find a small monkey in a blue shirt, leaning into your face and smiling at you.

“Gooooood morning!” the little money says in a hushed voice.

You turn the other way though you already know it was too late. As you expected, you feel small paws grab the back of your shirt and start to pull. Unfortunately for them, it didn't do much to help so they grabbed the next best thing. Your arm revives a small tug along with the back. Still you don't give way.

“Give up~” you say in a sing-song voice. It only fuels the little monkey’s determination. You couldn't help but crack a little smile. Meanwhile, you look at the blinds. The large amount of yellow slithering through the cracks already tells you it was around 9:00 am. Too early to be bothered but here you are. You decide not to check the alarm.

“Max!” the little monkey says as he continues to struggle.

“Jimmy.” You respond, hiding the joy in your voice.

He groans and throws your limp leg back onto the bed carelessly. Your shirt just stretches back into place after he lets go. You chuckle just loud enough for him to hear and you take his silence as victory until he decides to pull a dirty trick of their own. A sharp pain radiates from your tail and you instinctively jump up and turn to grab him, only for him to dodge you and scurrys towards the door.

“Not sorry! 10:00 am. Doctor appointment. Mom’s orders. Hurry up.” He yells out before slamming the door behind him.

You take a quick look at your tail, noting a section of your fur resembling the vague shape of teeth. You make a mental note to get him back for that. Despite your best judgment, you look at your alarm clock. 9:45. Now you need to get up. You doubt they would leave without you since it’s your appointment but you rather not risk being chewed out by your parents for being late. Since you didn’t have enough time or energy for the mental gymnastics of making a good closet combo, you settle for the classic. Red turtleneck sweater, light blue jeans and blue running shoes. Something you could never give up is the color red. Dynamic, colorful, eye-catching yet blends in. Definitely good enough for today. You rush into the bathroom next to your room to try and brush your teeth until you spot trickles of glass falling down the sink. You look up to see a broken mirror, emerging from a hole shaped like a fist. The shards left behind folds into itself, while pointing to its voided center. The closest ones are laced with a crimson color that saturates the center until it drips down the wall. You check both your hands to find your right hand covered with deep gashes that just started to clot. You roll your eyes. They had to choose your writing hand? Of course they would. They were always this petty but this was a clear escalation. The book was fine but this felt more than just a simple message. There should have been glass shards sticking out of your hand but there was none. Any scattered debris or blood seems to have been cleaned up before you woke up. This message was left behind just for you to see it in all its horror. It was a clear threat. You’d rather not engage with it for now. You have an appointment to get to, if the muffled car honks didn’t give it away. You decide to draw your sleeves up to cover your hands. You can just lie and say you prefer it this way, even if they complain. You hear a loud, drawn out honk clearly coming from outside.

“Coming!” You yell as you rush out the door. No coffee, no breakfast and no bandages. This is going to be a great day.

[context]

OMGGG this was a nice surprise to wake up to YAYAYAYAYYAY

max needs like. an english muffin or something atp 😭 bro's goign thru it rn

[sunflower-rat]

Characters involved :

Tai - He/They

Ashevin - She/They

Tai leans out the window, letting the smoke from their cigarette dissipate into the cold sky.

From there, he can see the whole town - though it's admittedly small with how ne0w it is. He wants to comment about the monsters he can see clawing at the walls, but he sees no one near it and it's too preoccupied chewing on a piece of wood to do any harm - so he doesn't say a thing and let's it burn away as the sun dawns.

"Are you even paying attention ?"

Ashevin is pinching her nose when he turns around, and he smiles - his fingers fiddling with the burning roll of sage and herbs that he foraged instead of training the new recruits that'd just been placed under his mentorship.

"Maybe." He lets it linger against the window, watching the smoke drift out. "Wanna repeat ?"

She's annoyed, they know - but they can't bring themself to withdraw from the ledge.

"The opening day is tomorrow. I've left you the script in our room if you bothered reading it. That- and you never confirmed if you prepared all the currency necessary for the new recruits, or if you'd finished repairing all the extra rooms-"

It's one long list of responsibilities that they had long since pushed out of their mind. And yes - they've read the script - and they hate it.

It's formal - and strict - and it's everything they're not.

"Everything's going to be fine." Tai takes another deep breath, tasting the smoke as it leaves his lips. "I'm a Guild Master. I know what I'm doing - if anything you should relax. It'll make people tense." And he wishes the words didn't taste as bitter as the smoke that stains his clothes.

And he knows his words mean as much as morning mist.

By tomorrow morning it'll be worth nothing but an anxious chant in her head, and even though she claims she can't be there at the opening because she has to ensure the scouts at the border of their new settlement are safe and on the lookout for foreign soldiers that are surely looking for an excuse to hunt them down - she will rush back anyway, because he knows she does not trust him.

He doesn't blame her.

They're high right now, so his words don't matter.

Still, it hurts.

Kind of, he's not sure.

Not really, if he'll be honest.

It doesn't hurt, genuinely - but it bothers him.

It sits in the back of his mind as he combs his hair back and fixes his coat, the mask securely covering half his face.

It lingers so deeply that the irritation and distrust is all they can think of as they smile and welcome the new recruits and the people that will be their citizens from now on.

So their fingers trail against the floral cigar in their pocket, and they chew on the paper until it dissolves into spit.

He's not hurt.

Not really.

He's just annoyed.

And he's just angry - and he barely conceals his fangs as he greets Nivalis with the most sober voice he's had in months.

And when they recite her script by memory - they remember the way the pages burned in their garden, its words curling into the blackened smoke and the blood bleaching their leather gauntlets.

And she comes back - exactly as he expects her to - frantic and anxious as she arrives just as the event ends - and Tai stands at the guild hall to meet her, smiling as she returns.

And she'll find nothing out of place.

With everyone in their dorms and their money received - and hostile monsters struggling to climb up the walls, chewing against the wood and burning in the sun like paper.

"I want a detailed recount of everything that happened." Her words carry disbelief and doubt - and an order that doesn't reflect the fact that he has been a Guild Master longer than she's been alive.

And he's not hurt.

Not really.

He's just a little bothered is all.

But he doesn't blame her.

He can't.

So he tells her everything she missed, and he doesn't lie. But he omits the black smoke and the smell of burning flowers, and the script that's buried in his garden - as nothing but smoke and cinder.

[comfortwriting]

Pain - K.R

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Guidelines

Modern Day Kylo Ren x Fem Reader

about: the reader's parents get divorced, she visits her abusive dad with her boyfriend Kylo and things get out of hand.

warnings: swearing, violence, abusive father, physical abuse, childhood trauma, mention of death and murder, Kylo being incredibly overprotective and angry.

Y/F/N = your father's name.

A/N: this is the first Kylo fic I've written and I can't lie - I've enjoyed it despite being incredibly nervous. I should be asleep or doing uni work but here we are. Feedback is appreciated... it's been a while since I've written anything and I feel a bit rusty. Please reblog to support.

You were in the middle of planting sunflowers with Kylo when the house phone rang, it rarely went off so you pulled off your gardening gloves and hurried over.

"Want me to get it?" Kylo asked casually.

You shook your head, "I'm all good babe."

Walking into the kitchen, you stared at the shiny black phone, its long spiral cord trailing below.

What if someone has died? What if Kylo's uncle found our number?

Biting the bullet and chewing on your lip, you reached out to the phone, pulling it away from its seat on the wall.

"Hello?" You answered, clutching the phone tightly, twirling your fingers through those long spirals.

"Hi Y/N, it's mum."

Her voice made you feel as if you had been pushed down the stairs.

Your mother never called you - instead she always showed up to your house unannounced once in a blue moon - you and Kylo always made sure your doors were locked after an embarrassing close call.

It wasn't like you were close with her or your dad, both of them had a turbulent marriage that left you scarred and troubled from a child to a young adult.

You felt better being away from them, creating your own life and future with your boyfriend who had issues of his own with his father and uncle.

"I haven't heard from you in a while," you replied, turning around and watching Kylo through the kitchen window, his beautiful locks sticking to his sweaty face.

Kylo focused on the tall sunflowers, trying hard not to get soil everywhere else but the tarp.

"I'm not sure if your father told you..." your mum paused for a moment "but we've filed for a divorce... he's moving into his flat this weekend."

Kylo looked up at you with a big smile on his face - his red gardening gloves hugging his big hands,  you tried your best to smile back enthusiastically.

Truth be told, you were relieved at the news - you were glad it wasn't Luke calling or Han bringing news of Leia dying.

There were moments in your childhood when you got on your hands and knees praying for your parents to split up, move on without dragging you in the middle of it and forcing you to pick a side.

"Are you happy?" you asked, ignoring your mother blathering on about the documents.

"I am..." she sighed "but your dad isn't, and he's going to need some help moving in."

The fake enthusiastic smile on your face dropped.

"Dad's asked me to pick him up from the mini centre," you sighed, picking up your car keys.

Kylo started shaking his head and put down his cup of coffee, "I'll get him,"

You walked over to the door, your hand barely brushing against the handle "It's fine, his car will be there for a couple of hours and he said he wanted to go to town until the MOT is finished."

Kylo took long strides towards you, his scar highlighted by the sun beaming through the window "please don't, I don't want you to be alone with him."

You frowned "you can trust him, Kylo. He's not as bad as he was-"

"I don't care." he replied, pulling the keys from your hand "stay here."

Your dad would fly into fits of rage when he wasn't happy. He would yell, smash things, punch the walls, and hurt you - when Kylo first met you he caught sight of the trail of bruises down your arms, back, and legs. You never told him it was your dad, but after a few months of dating and coming up with awful excuses, he didn't need to hear the truth.

"He's been hurting you again, hasn't he?" Kylo glared, his eyes burning into your bruises.

You yanked down your sleeve and tried to push his hands off you "I told you I fell-"

"You've told me that before, Y/N. When will this stop? When will you stop defending him? He can't get away with this!"

"Are you there?" your mother called down the phone.

You scrunched your eyes shut, using your other hand to tuck your stray hairs behind your ear "yeah, it's just... I can't help him, me and Kylo are away that weekend."

Kylo stopped planting and stared at you, already clenching his jaw at the sight of you in distress.

He stood up and pulled off his gloves, throwing them onto the large crumpled blue tarp and walked over to the open kitchen door, he leaned against it, listening in.

"because I can't, mum! He should have hired a service to help him with that shit!" You huffed.

Kylo stared at you, he could practically smell the fear radiating off your skin that was already forming beads of sweat.

"You've never done anything to help out after you left home!" your mother hissed, "All you do is hide away with that controlling, strange boyfriend of yours!"

Even though your mother never punched walls or left you with bruises, she knew how to guilt-trip you and make you feel like shit for wanting to live a happy life without her and your dad dragging you down.

"Give me the phone, sweetheart," Kylo called out softly, holding out his hand as he walked into the kitchen.

"Fine!" you snapped "I'll fucking help him, then! Tell him to have his shit sorted by ten!"

Slamming the phone back on the wall you started to cry, collapsing onto your knees, the cold black and red tiles cooling your skin.

Kylo swallowed hard and got on his knees too so he could be beside you, he pulled you into his arms and stroked your hair with his hand, the other wrapped across your front.

"What happened?" he asked, planting a soft kiss on your head "I know your dad is involved."

Whenever the phone did go off, he had always secretly wished he would hear news of how your father had been arrested or had suddenly passed away - he knew it was a fucked up thing to daydream about, but Kylo had spent many nights lying awake, unable to sleep at the thought of your father inflicting pain on you. He couldn't bear it.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your face away from Kylo's warmth and looked into his deep concerned eyes. His hand rested against your face, his gentle fingers wiping away your tears.

"Mum and dad got a divorce," you finally replied.

"Surely that's a good thing-"

You cut him off "But I have to fucking help dad move into his flat on Saturday and he's already pissed about the whole thing."

Kylo's eyebrows knitted together and he clenched his jaw, already needing to swallow again as the lump in his throat doubled in size.

"I'm going. You're staying here, whether you like it or not."

Your voice started to crack "He's expecting me to be there, if you turn up without me you know what he'll do to you."

Kylo had to force himself to keep his mouth shut, he wanted to tell you how he felt, what kept him awake at night, the hopes he had every time that stupid little phone would ring.  He wanted you to know exactly what your father made him dream about - the sound of your screams.

You were right though, there was no way Kylo could be in the presence of your dad without you, Kylo would have nothing to stop him from taking your fathers head off; The last time he was alone with him, you didn't hear the end of it from your mother, screaming at your down the phone so loud you were in pain.

Kylo waited in your car for your father, parked across the road from the mini centre he stared out the window, noticing the tall and muscular old man come hobbling out of the door, looking left and right before coming over.

Upon seeing Kylo in the window, your father cursed under his breath, shaking his head and getting in the car.

"What are you doing picking me up?" he snapped, slamming the door.

Kylo sighed "Y/N wanted to stay at home, Y/F/N. She's not feeling very well." he lied.

Y/F/N scoffed and started shaking his head again "You're bloody useless you are, aren't you? My daughter is ill and you're not taking care of her!"

Kylo wished he came up with a better excuse but it was too late, the entire drive to town was nothing but complaints, swearing, and insults; Kylo's hands gripped the steering wheel tight -  every now and then, wishing it was Y/F/N's throat.

When arriving home, Kylo wouldn't tell you how awful your father spoke to him, how close he was to crashing the car on the passenger side and making it out as if it was an accident or another drivers fault.

The phone started to ring and Kylo eyed it immediately - you caught his glance and went to answer, thinking of Han and Leia.

"Y/N, don't-"

"I don't want mum screaming at me again either, she acted as if I was the devil after you picked dad up that day. He walked back to the mini centre to get his car and didn't speak to me for months."

Your boyfriend didn't want to admit it, but you were right. If someone had to help your father, it had to be you either on your own or with someone else by your side, as much as Kylo hated this - part of him knew that he could be there to protect you if Y/F/N were to lash out and scold you.

-

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked Kylo, pulling up outside your childhood home, the massive 'FOR SALE' sign glaring at you.

Kylo stared at the window of the front room, Y/F/N happened to be already standing behind the glass, staring back at him.

"Yes I am," he replied, unclipping his seat belt and opening the car door.

Y/F/N grumbled at the sight of your boyfriend walking towards the front door, he wanted nothing more than to belt him and leave another scar on the other side of his face - Kylo had taken his daughter away and placed her in a castle far away from home where she could be free and do whatever she wanted.

You opened the boot and made enough room for the many boxes and bags you assumed your father had filled.

Upon entering the house full of sickening and unhappy memories, the boxes were empty and all of your father's belongings were scattered around the house like trash.

CD cases were cracked, magazines and books had their pages crumpled and ripped out, family pictures were discarded and their frames were smashed.

Kylo's eyes traced over the mess and up to your father's eyes, he had done this on purpose.

"Why weren't you ready, dad?" you asked, trying to sound polite "You knew we would be here for ten o'clock."

Y/F/N continued to stare at Kylo, "why did you bring this punk with you?"

Kylo's teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheeks, his heart pumping in his chest so hard he could hear each beat through his ears.

Stand your ground. Don't let him walk all over you.

"I asked him to join me as I thought we'd need an extra hand and from the look of things, it seems I'm right."

Now your father's cold stare moved from Kylo and leapt onto you, his anger pulsating and tearing into your soul, sucking the life out of you.

"Talking back to me, are you?" he spat, inching closer, kicking aside the CDs.

Stand tall. Don't back down. Don't be afraid. Claim back this space, don't let this house and its memories plague you.

"I'm not talking back," you shot "I'm simply explaining why I asked my boyfriend to help out since you can't do fuck all on your own."

The house suddenly became still and quiet - too quiet even.

Your father's eyes widened and he raised his hand fast, striking you across the face.

You were stunned and instantly felt defeated, your eyes pooled with tears which made your vision glassy, and your cheek felt like someone had sliced it open to pour salt into the wound, your left ear started to ring.

The room couldn't stop spinning, you felt like you could fall backwards at any minute. Part of you questioned if this was real at all - you and Kylo having a place of your own, or were you that unhappy you had created all of this in your mind as a child because that was the only way you could escape?

Kylo pinned your father against the stained duck-egg blue wallpaper, the mantlepiece stood tall and the cloudy glass vase that held the wilted and cowardly roses shook as your father collided with the wall.

"Don't you ever fucking touch her again!" Kylo yelled angrily, his lips wet from his words and spit.

Forcing yourself to blink away the tears, you stumbled over to Kylo and gripped onto his tensed arm "Kylo, stop!" you begged, afraid of your father hurting him.

Kylo continued to yell, his fingernails clawing into Y/F/N.

Do it. You know what you need to do. He's no father.

"Let go, Kylo!" you sobbed, pulling and pulling at his arm.

Kylo couldn't remember letting go of your father, he couldn't remember leaving the house or getting in the car and driving home.

Sitting down at your round kitchen table, he tended to your red and bruised cheek in a daze, his arms no longer tense but his touch now gentle and caring.

It occurred to him that he had possibly scared you and he realised that he couldn't hide his feelings anymore, he was being torn apart and enduring it in silence for much longer would kill him.

I want to be free of this pain.

"I'm sorry," he broke down, forcing himself to look into your tired eyes.

"It's okay, you didn't know what you were doing-"

Kylo shook his head, his hands were trembling "But I did," he revealed, "I have been waiting for this day for a long time."

You stared at him, not knowing what he meant, his beautiful full lips started to quiver.

"Baby, I don't understand.."

"All your father has done is abuse you, emotionally and physically. I've seen the bruises, I've heard you crying and pleading on that stupid phone."

You started to cry again, your tears running over the angry handprint.

"I hate him, I've been awake for many nights because every time I fall asleep I can hear your screams as he beats you, he might leave you bruised but he's weak and foolish, and I've relished every single thought I've ever had about destroying him."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you were truly terrified of Y/F/N at times but the thought of your boyfriend killing him made you feel sick - but you were tolerating your father when most would've reported him and had him face the consequences of his actions.

"Kylo, you can't say things like that, you can't-"

"We're being torn apart - you deserve to be free from this pain and I do too, everything he does to you.. it kills me inside.. and today..." he cried harder "I knew what I had to do but I didn't know if I had the strength to do it."

You leaned over the small round table and cupped Kylo's face in your hands, his tears running down his face whilst yours jumped from your chin. You stroked his hair and tried to calm him, but he cried and cried and cried, his wails feeling like a thousand cuts all over your body.

This was how he felt when Y/F/N was hitting me. This is how he felt every single time I walked out of the damn door and drove to that damn house.

"Will you help me?" you whispered, your throat too tight to speak.

He nodded "yes, anything."

You looked over at the phone and back at Kylo "We need to leave all of this behind whilst we still can."

Your hand rested on his face, your thumb tracing his scar.

"Nothing will ever stand in our way."

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 10 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

10. Aftermath

"So… What do you think he is?" Tucker asked her as they made their way to the kitchen to grab some lunch. It was about noon, and since Danny was still not awake -or showed any signs of waking, he had decided to put food on the top of his priority list. "Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful Danny went all glowy and beat that thing, but something that weird… And you got to admit, it was pretty weird…. Couldn't have come from a human."

"'Glowy'?" Sam asked while trying not to laugh. Oddly enough, it did help to lighten her bad mood brought on by exhaustion, fear, and paranoia. After Danny had somehow magically transported them back to her front yard and passed out, she and Tucker managed to sneak back into her house while carrying him and make it into her room undetected by her parents. Tiring as that and the chase from earlier was she was unable to convince herself they were safe and began constantly checking the window for any signs of the creature. Needless to say, by morning, she hadn't been able to fall asleep.

He just shrugged as he opened the large kitchen door and allowed Sam to pass through first. "I don't know what else to call it. I guess 'luminous' could work, but it doesn't really fit either."

"And 'glowy' does?"

"Probably not, but at least it's specific."

Though she would never admit it out loud, he did have a point. When Danny had taken a stand against the monster, ghost… whatever it actually was, it almost looked as if tendrils of greenish-white energy was wrapping around him. As it became more noticeable, it gave his body the illusion it was actually glowing. Even more startling was the change in his eyes and hair color. His eyes changed to a toxic shade of green which shouldn't exist in this world, and his hair had become a brilliant shade of white with a silvery sheen. After Danny had passed out, the white color seemed to seep out, leaving behind his naturally black hair after a couple minutes. Hopefully his eyes had returned to their natural color too.

"Anyway… what do you think we should take up to Danny?" By the time he spoke, Tucker had already started putting together a rather impressive lunch meat and mayo sandwich on one of the white marble counters. While Sam could not even look at the growing monstrosity, she was impressed by the knowledge he had of her kitchen. He had been over way too many times.

She thought for a moment as she searched one of the polished mahogany cabinets for some supplies of her own. "Well… probably bland foods like toast or rice would be best. Since he tends to get sick after anything weird happens to him, those are the only types of food that shouldn't cause any problems…"

"I didn't… even think about that…" he replied between chews, much to Sam's dismay. "Whatever that power… or weirdness is, it really seems to do a number on him."

"Yeah… and let's just hope it doesn't kill him in the process."

This particular episode had been particularly bad for Danny. Before carrying him into the house, she had checked his vital signs only to find no sign of life. His pulse was nonexistent, his breathing had ceased, and his body was freezing to the touch. Both of them had begun to panic and tried to remember what they could of CPR. Luckily for Tucker -what was it with guys and CPR? - Danny let out a shaky breath even before they got a chance to start.

Unsure what to make of the situation, they just stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment before deciding to take the seemingly unconscious and not dead boy into the house. If it was any other person, she would have called an ambulance without a second thought, but there was no way such strange events could be explained or probably even treated by a doctor. Besides, if he seemed fine now, it was unlikely a doctor would be able to do anything. Originally, they decided whoever woke up first would make sure Danny was still among the living, but with her being unable to sleep she checked on him regularly. His breathing and pulse seemingly remained steady, but his body, though a little warmer, still remained very cool to the touch; Combined with his naturally pale skin kept causing her to compare him to a cadaver.

An awkward tension filled the air for a moment while they made their lunches. Unnerved, Sam was about to say something, but a strange look from Tucker stopped her. "What's wrong?"

"Sam… this might sound weird, but what if that's the point? What if this power that's taken hold of him really is going to kill him?" he asked as he put his sandwich down and looked her in the eyes. "Didn't Danny say something before about how the ghost you two saw in the cemetery said that he didn't belong to this world? And didn't it also suggest he didn't have a lot of time left? And didn't that thing that chased us last night call him 'Ghost Child'…. I don't know about you, but it just seems like, if you think about it, everything's suggesting he's going to die."

"Tucker, how can you say something like that?" she snapped while trying to prevent any emotion, save for anger, from crossing her face. During her vigil, similar thoughts had crossed her mind, but she tried to completely ignore them. She had noticed Danny always seemed drained and weak after the power manifested, almost as if his 'energy or' life was its power source. It seemed quite possible it could kill him if it continued, but the cryptic hints they kept getting suggested maybe that was what the power needed.

No! She wasn't going to think like that! Nothing as horrible as that was going to happen to Danny. They were going to somehow figure out how to help him, and she didn't need such terrible thoughts floating around her mind. She cringed as she once again tried to suppress them. Having the idea be said aloud seemed to somehow confirm it, even with absolutely no proof. "Let's just focus on finishing so we can get back to Danny. I wonder if he's awake yet…"

"If you say so… but before we do that, can you please explain why your toaster's floating?"

Sam had to chuckle as she watched Tucker begin to panic and quickly put space between him and unassuming yet levitating toaster. Glancing at it to make sure it was actually plugged in and in use; she shrugged and moved over to retrieve its contents. "It's from Denmark. This usually happens."

"Wait… what?"

….

Surprisingly, when they returned to Sam's room, Danny was awake and sitting up on the deep purple bed. He looked terrible. His blue eyes were dull, and the dark rings under them attested to just how tired he really was. His body was also incredibly sore and stiff, but nothing more seemed to be wrong with him. Sam couldn't help but be relieved. As she watched him thankfully accept the tray of food, it seemed as if there would be no lasting problems from the night's events.

After finishing his light meal, Danny hesitantly asked what happened the previous night. Unsure where to start, she looked to Tucker for some help, and within a few minutes, the combined effort of the two got him up to speed. He accepted it silently, though Sam did notice he kept looking down at his hands. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure they still looked the same. It unnerved her slightly, but she tried to push it aside as she suggested a good break from all the weirdness would be a monster movie marathon. Both Danny and Tucker gave her looks suggesting they questioned her sanity, but after a few minutes of persuasion and a mention of the room sized television in the entertainment room, they happily changed their minds.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was official. The best way to recover from a mysterious paranormal fight was to sit and watch movies in Sam's gigantic theater. Not only did Danny get to relax in some of the most comfortable chairs he had ever encountered, but the ability to laugh with his friends as they poked fun at the terrible effects further alleviated the stress weighing down on him. Surprisingly, they were able to get through three movies without being interrupted.

After glancing at fancy clock hanging from the wall, he realized it was almost dinner time. "Hey, I should probably be getting home soon. Knowing Winston, he'll be getting worried."

"Do you think you're up to walking home?" Sam asked as she gave him an appraising glance. "You're welcome to stay another night."

A chuckle escaped him as he thought about her parents' reactions to the suggestion. Although he had only briefly met them, something told him the couple was already not too fond of him. "I think I can handle it." That was an obvious lie. His body still felt as if he had been put inside of an industrial dryer on spin mode, but how else was he going to get home? He didn't want to impose on Sam, Winston would start asking questions, and he certainly didn't have the money to call a taxi. "Besides, the walking might help with the stiffness."

"Or it could make it worse. Seriously dude, you should be taking it as easy as you can. Kicking some serious butt can be really tiring." Tucker's tone was playful and encouraging, but Danny knew he was trying to hide his own concerns about the strange event. Judging by how Sam and Tucker were acting when they entered the room after he woke up, the two most likely had a serious conversation about what happened. Though they tried to make him feel as if nothing was wrong, he could sense their worry.

He was about to start arguing but Sam quickly cut him off. "If you really think you should leave, at least I can do is to have my driver give you a ride home. I mean, you did save our lives."

"Thanks… but are you sure..? Wait, you have your own driver?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

Sam fidgeted for a moment before answering. "Well, he's technically one of the drivers for my family, but I'm on better terms with him than my parents…. So, he's kinda unofficially mine."

"There's more than one…? Never mind." He cut himself off after a moment. "I don't want to know the specifics." The lives of the rich were hard to comprehend.

…..

After about a half an hour, the three of them were in the back of a stretch limo complete with its own mini bar stocked with several foreign drinks. Neither Sam nor Tucker actually needed to come, but they refused to let him go home alone. Danny just figured it was their way of showing concern. Though he didn't really need it, he didn't mind as their presence made the short ride more enjoyable.

When he arrived home, he was expecting a quite scene. Winston's silver Chevy would be sitting in the driveway, and while Winston himself would either be tending his modest garden or doing some paperwork in the study. But, instead of normalcy, chaos greeted him.

Yellow police tape had been placed around the perimeter of the yard and across the open front door. Several police cars were sitting, not only in front of the house, but also in his and the neighbor's driveway. A few officers were standing in the yard talking to each other while wearing serious expressions. Another was entering the house along with a couple people in white uniforms. Before the limo could even come to a stop, Danny jumped out of it and ran to the house, only to be stopped by some of the officers.

"I'm Danny, Winston's charge," he nearly shouted after one of the officers grabbed him while trying to explain he could not enter a crime scene. "What happened? Where's Winston? Does he know? Is he alright?"

"Wait, you're Wolf's kid?" another office asked as he approached. "We put out an alert saying you were missing. So you weren't in the house last night?"

"No, I…"

"Excuse me, Sir," Sam interrupted as she and Tucker ran over. "Danny was with us last night. He was staying over my house."

"He's not in trouble, is he?" There was a noticeable shiver within Tucker's voice, but he was doing his best not to show any other sign of nervousness. "Because we can totally vouch for him! We were with him for most of the day yesterday."

The officer held up his hand as a signal to let him talk. A trouble look crossed his face as he removed his hat and ran his free hand through his graying hair. After collecting himself, he held his hand out for Danny to shake. "I wish we could have met under friendlier circumstances, but I'm Sergeant Ross. We were called to your house after one of your neighbors called in some concerns about the safety of your dad. They thought they had heard gun shots last night but shrugged it off until they realized they never saw him leave the house today. We even received a confirmation from his work that he never arrived."

Danny bit his lip as he listened quietly. Winston almost never missed work, even if he was very sick. So, knowing that, something had to have gone seriously wrong, and Danny wasn't exactly sure if he was ready to find out what.

"I hate to say it, but it was a good thing we did decided to check on him," Ross continued as he looked him in the eye. "Your dad's currently in J. Marley Central Hospital and is being treated for several severe injuries from… what we think was a home invasion."

"No... That's impossible…" Danny stuttered after a few confused moments. "Winston's an ex-marine… He would have fought back. No one could have done that much damage…"

"Son, take it easy. This isn't the time for this…"

"You don't understand! Winston can take care of himself! There's a gun under his mattress for goodness' sake! He's always been prepared for something like this to happen! Some lame burglar couldn't have put him in the hospital!"

"Wait… did you say that Wolf owned a gun?" Ross asked carefully. "What kind was it?"

"I'm not exactly sure…. It's not like I saw it every day or anything," he replied gruffly as he tried to keep his feelings quelled long enough to try and answer the question. It wasn't like the officer had anything to do with Winston being hurt, but he certainly didn't want to be answering any questions. "I know it's some type of hand gun…. Maybe it's a .28… The box of bullets was sitting in the shelf on the study."

A concerned expression crossed the Sergeant's face as he called over to another officer. "Have any of the men found a firearm in or around the premises?" When the man shook his head, Ross' expression became grim. He then told the man to grab a couple of the other officers and search the area again, as well as finding a record of Winston's gun registration. After the other officer left, Ross turned back to Danny. "Well, I can't say I'm pleased by this new information… But I'm glad you mentioned it." He gave the boy a searching look before he spoke again. "I'm going to need to take you down to the precinct so you can give your official statement and maybe answer a few questions. Then we're going to need to go through your house and see if anything has been stolen."

"Wait… now?" Danny half demanded, half choked. "You're not going to let me see Winston first?"

"He's in the hospital…"

"You told me that, but you haven't told me anything else!" He had to fight to keep his voice and hands under control. Something in the back of his mind told him the officer would not appreciate it if he started waving his hands around while he was agitated. "Winston's all I have! I need to see for myself just how bad it is. I'll answer any question you have afterwards, but please, please let me see him first!"

"I can't let you do that."

"Why? Wait… I know what's going on… You think I did this." His eyes narrowed as he pointed at the officer. "I can't believe you! You're supposed to be trying to find whoever did this to Winston! Instead, you're wasting your time looking at me. I wasn't even home last night!" He took a breath to try and calm down for a moment as Tucker put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. With each breath, he could feel himself shaking in rage. "If anything, you should be looking at that Masters guy…"

It was the officer's turn to be suspicious. "…You don't mean Vlad Masters, do you?"

"I think so… He and Winston don't seem to get along…"

"And don't forget! He's the one who snuck into your house that one day!" Tucker added as he gave a shudder. "That's the day we heard Mr. Wolf yelling. No offense dude, but he's really frightening when he's mad."

"Tell me about it…"

"Back up a minute," the officer interrupted while rubbing his eyes. "You're telling me, Vlad Masters broke into your house. What business does someone like him have in your house?"

Could this officer be any more irritating? Danny had to bite back a sarcastic reply as he answered the officer. "He said he was checking up on Winston since he had to reschedule a meeting… with I guess one of his assistants. According to him, our front door was open, and he went inside to make sure everything was okay." As the officer wrote down something on a little tablet that was pulled out of his pocket, Danny decided he had enough. "Look! I'll answer any of your questions later, but I'm not doing anything else until I get to see Winston!"

….

After a twenty minute standoff, Danny finally got his way. An irritated Sergeant Ross had escorted him to the hospital after finally realizing he wasn't going to get any answers. After the two stepped into the waiting area, he ran to the nearest available teller and practically demanded to know where Winston was being treated. After an agonizingly slow few minutes, he finally got an answer.

In retrospect, running as fast as he could through the halls was probably one of the worst things he could do in the hospital, but he really didn't care. He easily managed to avoid any obstacle he encountered. Who knew there would be so many movable computers, monitors, and people in those maze-like hallways? When he finally reached Winston's room, he was met with a wall of people. Several doctors all wearing dark expressions seemed to be deep in discussion as they blocked the only door into the room.

Unsure how to interrupt the doctors, he was happy to realize Winston's room had a window. Peeking in, he felt his breath hitch as he realized just how serious the attack on his guardian had been. Winston was unconscious and hooked up to a respirator. Several monitors were hooked up to the man, and two IV bags, one of blood and one of clear fluid, were also put in place. What little bit of skin was not covered by bandage or machine looked bruised and swollen. The overall image made Winston look like he was fragile enough to break if he was touched. Danny had to try and hold back tears as he wondered who could have done such a thing.

"How the hell did you get here so fast?" an out of breath voice asked from somewhere behind him making him jump. He turned around to see a rather winded Sergeant Ross giving him a searching look. "I couldn't go more than a few feet without out running into something."

Danny didn't say anything as he turned back towards the window. He didn't want to have Winston out of his sight for more than a few minutes. He just had this feeling something terrible would happen if he did.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you part of Winston's family?" A person wearing a white coat came into the periphery of his vision. Curious, he turned to see a young female doctor extending her hand to him. "I'm Dr. Sabo, and I'm currently in charge of managing him while he's here."

He hesitantly took her hand and explained who he was. "How… how is he?" Even he could hear the unease in his voice.

"That's the big question, isn't it?" Dr. Sabo frowned as she looked towards the window. "I hate to say it, but it's hard to tell at this point. Winston received several odd wounds from the attack."

"Odd…? How so?" the sergeant asked, surprising both Danny and the doctor.

She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to describe her thoughts. "It's the first time any of us have seen wounds like that. They almost seem to be large bullet wounds, but the edges of them act more like burns. And, to make matters worse, we were unable to locate any residual bullets there might have been. We're really at a loss for what happened to him."

"Will he be able to answer any questions?"

"I'm not sure. Winston, although stable, is in a terrible condition. He's going to have to be watched very carefully over the next several days. We're going to do our best to see that he heals, but it will be up to his body to make sure he recovers. From what I can see of him, he appears to be in very good shape for his age, so we're hopeful… but, you can never tell."

The world started to spin as Danny listened to the doctor go into more details about Winston's condition with the sergeant. He allowed himself to slide down the wall and sit as he tried to get some sort of grasp on the situation. He never thought he would be in this situation. He had once joked that Winston was too strong to ever be taken down by anything other than a renegade bus, but this had shown him Winston was human, just like everyone else.

Danny couldn't take it anymore. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, he buried his face in his hands and allowed the tears to come. It was a small comfort, but if he was going to have to deal with the police over the next several hours, he was going to need to be as strong as possible.

=======================================

Anyways, a couple things:

J. Marley Central Hospital is not a real place… at least I think so. I named it to keep in line with the ghost theme of the show. Jacob Marley was the first ghost who appeared to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Dr. Sabo and Sergeant Ross aren't all that important. They're really only there for this section.

And, can I just say that hospitals are the most confusing things on earth? Cuz, they are. There are at least fifteen hospitals within an hour and a half of my house, and all of them are mazes. The floor plans are ridiculous. You can't walk through them without encountering workers, movable computers and/or other medical devices, and let's not forget the robots. Don't ask about that last one. It is really funny to see them having a Mexican standoff though.

[spacemilkies]

serendipity || captain allen x reader

for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”

The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.

“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”

The android was quiet, her gaze giving you another look over. No doubt cross referencing your heart rate to your words. Perhaps had your husband not been employed at such a high risk job, a simple face recognition scan could have cleared you. But it seemed not even matrimony came with any real civil benefits. 

The android completed its assessment.

“I see. Please-”

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”

A visible shudder of relief ripped across your skin as you whipped around. Appearing to be finishing up for the evening, Hank was looked about what you expected him to look first thing in the morning- ready to go home.

It’s easy to offer a smile in disguise of pity. “Figured if he wasn't going to make an effort for dinner, I could at least keep him from starving.”

“Yeah, is that why he’s so cranky? Missing one too many meals?”

Hank’s years of ‘facility’ comradery with your husband managed to bleed into a promising friendship of your own. It was a specific type of working relationship that only your hardened husband could achieve. Frankly most of his more social interactions were bridged by your efforts in some way or fashion. 

“Trying to keep him fed is a full time job.”

“Dealing with him period is a fucking career,” he muttered under his breath. Gratefully, Hank waved off the android. “Wife of the fucking SWAT captain, relax would you.”

“I honestly have no idea where he is but we all know his second wife is his desk.”

The obvious joke resonated differently with you than he likely intended for it to. In truth, your husband, his desk … and yourself had a bit of a polymourous relationship, to put it lightly. Not that you would embarrass David by bringing that up now. 

Maybe over drinks on night. 

Grateful for the unexpected intervention, you took advantage of the reprieve to escape through the security gates while you could. Waving to Hank, you bid him a good night.

“The fourth floor isn’t that big. He can’t hide forever.”

The few officers who did recognize you bid you a mix of greetings and farewells from those eager to return to their own families. As you climbed levels however, the gestures became more strict in the form of salutes and slim smiles that oozed stress. 

Rolling your eyes to the roof of the elevator, you began to pray that it wasn't a premonition of what to expect when you finally discovered your husband. You reminded yourself that you were merely there to deliver a meal, not stir up anything that could be settled at home. 

Your marriage worked this long because you respected those boundaries. The same ones that had been built without your knowledge back in university. 

By the relaxed posture of his assistant it was safe to assume he wasn’t in his office. Rachel confirmed as much with a quick wave.

“Captain Allen is in a meeting, ma’am.”

“Thats fine. Is his office open? Just dropping off dinner.”

She eyed the bag as if it was a saving grace. No doubt a prayer she’d made earlier in the day to try and aleve whatever symptoms were aggravating her boss’ nerves. 

If only it was so easy.

“I can get that for you.”

The panel in front of the door switches from red and blue, granting you access. You find yet another reason to send the young woman a nice gift basket. As if all the years of putting up with your husband didn’t earn her a vacation overseas.

Frankly, she might never look back.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

His office is as bleak and bland as the last time you’d entered it. Not even the wealth of his awards managing to permeate the walls. A few of the important credentials made the cut out of sheer necessity. You’d managed to break up the rest of the wall with two scenery photos. 

And that was it.

For someone who practically made his office his home, the lack of comfortably baffled you.

Placing the bags on the corner of his desk, you made yourself comfortable in his chair. Your job title aloe made snooping both enticing and forbidden. A thin lace of trust had been bestowed upon you given your connection to one of the largest media networks in the city. While your husband’s authority gave you more liberties than most it didn’t mean it couldnt be ripped away.

So against your journalist instinct, you kept your hands to yourself while you twiddled with a simple app on your phone. Fortunately, your husband didn’t keep you waiting long before you heard Nancy sharp cry of warning.

“Oh! Wait sir, your-”

You don’t know who is more surprised when you husband enters his office unaware. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he recognizes your silhouette by his desk, Nancy’s warning long forgotten. He looked like he was ready to chew out his next victim of the day and you could only snort in amusement. 

“Really, David.”

He’s wearing your favorite hoody of his- one you know come with a plethora of replacements but not a single is ever given to you despite your insistence. You’ve taken to wearing them briefly after laundry loads, while the house is to yourself. By the time he makes it home, its nestled comfortably in his drawer as if it was never touched. 

A secret compromise.

The door slides shut behind him as he approaches the desk. Affections pleasantly not forgotten as he leans down to peck at your cheek,“Its late, you didn't have to come by.”

“Well, I was hungry too. Figured you wouldn't want your food to get cold. Reheating meat will sometimes make it tough.”

David took the opportunity to peek into the paper bags, a hint of a smile triggering wider one for you when he recognized one of his favorites. You watched quietly as he unpacked the food, not missing how he arranged things carefully to keeps your safely confined while setting aside his own. 

It was an easier dismissal when you were expecting it. 

The hard edge of your neglected badge bit into your skin as you adjusted yourself against the desk, “Trying to get rid of me so soon, captain. I didn’t even get to opportunity to ask my questions yet.”

Unraveling the warmth of a freshly baked roll, your husband gave you an unamused grimace before taking a bite from the buttery loaf. 

“The SWAT team is not currently accepting any questions nor has any scheduled plans to council the press for ongoing operations.”

Your smile is as dangerous as your job implies, “So you guys are working on something top secret.”

“Would be home if it wasn’t.”

That was a lie and you both knew it. David would always find something to keep him occupied in his career. It had built him up and functioned as his stability. You were mere crutches on the sidelines waiting until you were needed.

As simple as it would be to challenge the claim, you thought better of it. Instead you continued to eat up time, relaxed comfortably in his chair while your husband was distracted with his meal. It seemed that his hunger had gotten to a point where he was reluctant to entertain anything that isn't satisfying his stomach. 

“Strip was sold out, so I hope skirt is okay?” 

Your husband wasn’t huge on grilling like some of the neighbors in your area but he did appreciate a good steak. Sometimes if you were lucky, he would even surprise you with a nice dinner in the kitchen on the rare occasions he actual beat you home or the scarcer days off. 

Using his teeth, David fought the crackle of the plastic wrapped utensil set,” Smells good, baby. Thank you.”

His obvious appreciation warmed you enough to coax a bit of boldness out of you. Walking your fingertips closer to the bag, you tugged it closer. “The renovators called back. They can fit us in next weekend to resurface the shower.”

Your house wasn’t old but there had been some changes you’d promised yourself when you’d first moved it. Earlier in your marriage, you had hoped to make a couples project out of it. But as the years passed, you began to understand that if you didn't  get someone else on the job it wasn't going to get done. 

Carefully pulling your own box free, you kept your voice even as your poked through your meal. “I’m having my mom come meet them that Thursday so they can do a final walkthrough for a quote. I’ll be home for the other days.”

“You’re not worried she won't change your plans?”

Twirling your pasta around your fork, you gave his question a thoughtful pause. It had crossed your mind. Your home wasn’t the first thing she had tried to intervene in. But you had made your own wishes noted in the initial meeting. Having your mother there was just supervision at this point.

“Nah, I'll be there for all the real work. I really just need her to keep Kaius calm.”

Retired from service but certainly not an impression on his age, the eight year old shepard still took his training seriously at home. It made it difficult to let anyone into the house without one of you there to assure him it was okay. The task was still difficult for you without David’s overwhelming presence to settle the canine. 

Resting his hip against the corner of the desk, your husband became visibly more relaxed into the conversation as he balanced the bottom of his togo box on his hand. “I don’t mind if he comes to work. He should be fine in my office for a day.”

You shrugged,”It's all worked out.”

At most, you were expecting one human to supervise a few androids. As impersonal as it made the job, it certainly didnt put a damper on efficiency. You expected nothing less than the projected project. 

He surprised you by leaning in then to press a quick kiss to your lips, a sneaky swipe of tongue catching the splash of sauce previously unknown to you. When you look up, he was watching you with that analytical look.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Caught, you could only smile sheepishly as you pointed the fork in his direction. “This is nice, don’t ruin it.”

Humming thoughtfully, your husband eventually returned to his own meal. 

David finished well before fullness crept in for you, his own haste favoring time over taste. But he was getting his nutrition so you found it hard to complain. 

A few tedious comments came to mind but none of them felt strong enough to tether him to a conversation. Accepting the time you got gratefully, you began putting away the leftovers to take home. 

“I’m off tomorrow so you don’t need to tip toe. I’ll leave the light on above the stove.”

Sometimes you found it funny how much your friends raves about the life you must have being married to a SWAT captain. Overwhelmed by their own fantasies of rugged encounters and frantic passion. 

It was true on occasion. There were times  that the stress of the job encouraged his hands to be a little more rough. Or time constraints found you bent over something convenient with your panties jerked to the side. 

As thrilling as it was, the novelty wore off quicker than it did in literature. 

There wasn’t a day you weren’t thankful of how well your husband aged, you just wanted more opportunities to appreciate it. 

You rise from your seat, expecting a final kiss of gratitude before you went on your way. 

You hasn’t realized your eyes had slid closed until they were opening in confusion at the touch of his thumb against your cheek. Against your better judgement, you leaned into the brief show of affection, lips parting to accept the pad of his finger. 

You know it won’t lead to much but the small stirrings it causes is worth the brevity. You crave his closeness whether he’s away like any wife would. But loving David Allen takes the punch of out love and jackhammers a new meaning into it. 

“”Thank you.”

The sincerity of it pressures your heart and your eyes close voluntarily this time, just wishing he would meet your expectation.

There is a pause, the silence tarnished by your audible sigh. Part of it is drawn back in a sharp gasp when his nose bumps against your own, then his lips find yours. 

The kiss is slow and measured, familiar even as you dare to run your palms down his front. His stomach curls under your touch, the lean muscle jumping slightly as your fingers challenge the hem of his pants. 

Swallowing, you taunt further with another tug. Venerability paints itself a lovely shade against your skin, coating you in a rosy blush. This wasn’t your arriving plan. But years have taught you that planning ahead rarely went well with David.

Carefully, you reach up and thumb the curve of his lower lip and draw him even closer. Even breaths waft over your face. Measured well, despite the proposition offered before him. 

In a mess of tongue and teeth, you whisper his name and teeter his resolve in the same breath. 

It has been a very long time since he’s humored an excursion like this and you’re patting yourself on the back for taking the chance. 

His mouth teases the skin at the nape of your neck and you wonder how far he plans to take this. His nose brushes against your ear next, nuzzling just under the curve where he knows you like it best. 

Your shirt rides up as he rolls his body against you, his hands quick to tend to your warm skin. His thumb teases the underside of your bra and it’s difficult not to let your mind wander.

Chest rising and falling in erratic intervals, you finally put a voice behind your desires. 

“Will fuck me here?”

David breathes in sharply then and for a moment you’re worried he’ll pull back to he senses. Your heart flutters nervously, awaiting a curt dismissal. But then a knee nudges firmly between your thighs and you find yourself biting your cheek to contain your grin. 

He continues to mouth at your neck while his hands answer your question, quickly and efficiently working at your belt. The hand not holding you in place slips under the hem of your pants with practiced ease. 

It will have to be quick but part of the thrill is inherit in the act itself. You know you’re already wet before his fingers reach their destination, his thumb flicking against your clit as his fingers curl into your sticky wetness. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? That’s why you came so late at night. Hoping to bride me into a quick fuck for your troubles?”

Part of you wished that had been your intention. You would have tried a hell of a lot harder if you’d known he’d be this willing. 

Sorry, Nancy.

There was always something sinfully dangerous about being taken in his office. To think the place where the city puts most of its trust will be defiled by your marital affairs will never fail to get you in the mood. 

David catches you before you can get careless, moving the food a safe distance away from your body before pressing you firmer against the desk. He doesn’t pay much attention to your breast but the stimulation from being pressed into the desktop makes up for it. Nothing else matters however when he’s dragging down his pants and your own with hast movements and lining himself up. 

It’s a slow sink- deep as he allows you time to open up for him. 

The situation doesn’t allow for it to be drawn out much longer than that. The frivolous teasing prior had already eaten into your limited time of unsuspicion. Not to mention any concerning noises that might permeate the door.

David does the sound control for you, risking quiet grunts as he digs his grip into the curve of your hip. His pace is slow but firmly backed by his weight as he quite literally fucks the air right out of your lungs, thrust near hard enough to shake the desk. 

He lifts his hips slightly, just enough too prod for the right angle, hitting that same spot again and again as you grip desperately at his arms. You return the favor, stealing his groans as you kiss back as vehemently as his hips grind into you. It only takes one good strategic thrust to capsize you under your simmering climax.

You remember a time, fumbling in college when you had to remind him to be wary- to pull out. Even early in your marriage you’d been cautious. 

Now, it was welcomed. The fact of not trying to try bleeding into a kink to take off the edge of pending results. You’d decided mutually to accept a child if the possibility arose but you wouldn’t make an intentional effort. 

Nearing your forties now, it wasn’t a forgotten proposition but it hardly factored into your mindset. It’s no where near innocent as your ankles dig firmly into his lower back, drawing him closet and locking him in.

Your husband’s hips stuttered briefly as his fingers reassessed their grip before he resumed his pace with firmer thrusts. Each one bouncing off the round of your backside. The hand at the base of your spine keeps you anchored- not that you’d made any attempt to disagree with anything he was giving you. 

He seemed to reward you for that, a lazy thumb counting your vertebrae in its travels, eliciting a quivering pleasure.  

“Maybe this is the key, huh? You’re always so much more receptive when there is the potential for audience.” 

He knows and fuck, you miss that voice. The way it rumbles deep in his chest before tumbling out in timber. 

“Of course, I’d never let them see. But I’d be happy to show off the results, hmm?”

His hands slid to your flank before curling around to flatten against the plane of your belly. It stays there, stroking the pseudo curve implanted in his head. 

He encourages you to grind back into his quickening thrusts, the fingers at your hip dragging you back in assistance. Whining, you dip your chest and arch your back. Your actions echo your thoughts. Faster. More. Deeper. Please

“That's what you want, right? For me to fill you up, baby?”

God… you drool around the thought. Your words fumbling around gurgles as you attempt to collect yourself enough to stop moaning and properly respond. Blood rushed in your ears and floods down your body. Working yourself up from your toes, you flex them, pushing your weight to your feet and lifting. It offers you a better advantage to pushing back into each eager thrust. 

Rather than praise your efforts, your husband only returns your gesture by carding his fingers through your hair. Tightening. Shoving down. 

“Fuck, yes, Dav-“ You hiss when he knocks particularly hard against your cervix to which he mends with an apologetic kiss to the back of your head. His thrust slow marginally, just enough to regain control before he’s coaxing you again with a nip to the shell of your ear. 

“Tell me, kitten.”

You reach for something-not sure of what. Neither does he it seems, but his hand finds yours anyway to which you curl them both the fabric of your chest. 

“I want it all-please.”

He jerks you back-once...twice before suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the weight of him on top and the pressure of him inside. 

You lie there for a short time, uncomfortable, but too laced by exhaustion to do much else. The feeling of fatigue crept onto you both with out warning, using the disguise of passion to worm its way inside.

He’s not perfect. Neither yourself or this marriage. But where most had doomed you both to fail, mutual perseverance told the rest to go fuck themselves.

There wasn’t much else either of you could offer to the remaining hours of the night. With that resolve, your slow rhythmic strokes against your husband’s back came to a halt, slightly rousing him in the process.

“Mhmm, come home with me, yeah?”

He heaves a sigh but you know you have him. 

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

[rogue-barnes-16]

I'M A MONSTER

Summary: Y/n knew for a fact that Wanda was definitely not doing well when it came to dates. After a particular rough night, Y/n finds out the reason for what had been happening.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, angst, makeout session

A/N: —

"Morning" I greeted the three members of the Avengers who were doing nothing but chill in the leisure room.

"Mornin' doll" Bucky replied without looking up from his laptop.

Clint gave me a quick glance before redirecting his whole attention to the TV show he was watching. "You look terrible."

"Thank you very much." I replied sarcastically, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. "it's Steve's fault, by the way." Bucky asked an intrigued 'how so', to which I responded. "had to train with him because someone didn't show up this morning, right Wan?"

The brunette witch, who hadn't even spared me a brief look, nor a single word, flickered her gaze to my form. "Sorry."

"what happened?" I asked, keeping it cool.

I didn't want her to realize I had heard her cry until she fell asleep the night before, right after she had come back from another date.

I didn't want her to know I was worried sick about something I wasn't supposed to know, so I kept it cool.

"Nothing," she shrugged turning the page of her book without making eye contact with anyone in the room. "I was just not in the mood."

"Wait what the fuck?" my eyes traveled to the archer. "Wanda, this doesn't work like that." Clint scolded her. "You gotta train every day, it's not about being 'in the mood', this is your job."

"Clint, give her a break." I tried to get in the middle and cool things down after seeing the way Wanda started to fidget with her ring, just like she did every time she was anxious or uncomfortable. "it was a one time thing."

"It wasn't." Bucky spoke, giving me a look before turning his gaze to Wanda. "I really hate to lecture you, but Barton's right." Wanda's green eyes looked for aid in mines, but I wasn't sure of how to help her. You've been skipping training on and off for two weeks, kid." she left the book aside and started pulling at her sleeves. "If you feel like you can't keep up with Y/n's rhythm, say it. Tony will change your partner but-"

She grabbed the book and, after abruptly getting up from the bed, Wanda stalked out of the room.

"what's gotten into her now?" Clint asked, rather worried.

"Dunno man." after Bucky’s reply to Clint's rhetorical question, the soldier's blue eyes lingered on my form, longer enough for me to notice. "Hey Y/n" When he called my attention, I knew he was onto something. "why don't you go and check on Maximoff?"

"Why would I?" I quietly asked whilst internally dying to sprint through the hall in order to reach Wanda's room.

Bucky waited an instant before answering me, in which he took the liberty of analyzing my body language. "You're the closest to the door." with a half grin playing in his lips, he turned back to the laptop.

Damn, he knew.

"I mean-" I cleared my throat, considering all my alternatives. "I think she just needs some time alone."

Nor Bucky, nor Clint turned around, but I could feel their confusion.

Despite my shocking reply, I wasn't actually lying.

Wanda was a very introverted girl, very sensitive. She had her own way of dealing with her own problems and, as much as I would love to help, her ways, more often than not, didn't include the girl who had fallen in love with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday night again.

Wanda had gone on a date again.

"you seem happy" I lazily commented, pretending I hadn't been stealing glances at her smile since that morning, when she received a message from a random stranger.

"Oh" she attempted to bit back a smile by chewing her lower lip. "Do I?" I turned around to see her struggling to zip up her dress. "Hey Y/n can you-"

"Hold on" I left the book I was reading aside and stepped towards her. "where ya going?" I questioned, parting her hair from her back.

"Uhm I have a..." I felt her, rather than heard her, sigh when my fingertips intentionally ghosted a line down from her neck to her bare low back before actually zipping her dress. "I have a date."

"Nice." I whispered, accommodating her long hair back in its initial place. "have fun and take care alright?" I struggled to pull my hands away from her.

"I will." she replied, turning around with beaming eyes that seemed to be waiting for something else from me. "don't worry."

I had been taking it out on one of the gym's punching bags for at least a couple of hours, until I was so tired that I couldn't walk, until I had no energy to keep hurting for things I would never say, until every feeling I had for Wanda had been shoved out of my body, at least for a while.

I was making my way to my room when I heard her crying again.

This time I was too tired to hold back, I was too tired to think about giving her space, and before I knew it, I was pushing open Wanda's room's door.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I tiredly asked, taking her completely off guard and, therefore, making her give me her back while she cleaned her tears.

"Nothing, I-I'm fine." she lamely lied.

"Wanda, don't even try, I'm not stupid." I replied, taking a few steps towards her. "almost every night you go out on a date, you come here crying."

She shook her head, slowly turning around, hugging herself. "That's not-"

"I swear on my life" I stared speaking, finally reaching her. "If those assholes are hurting you I'm gonna kill them one by fucking one."

"it's not like that." she muttered with trembling lips.

"what do you mean?"

"it's my fault" she choked up, finally making her green eyes, now glassy and bloodshot, dig into mines. "I'm a monster."

She let herself fall to the floor sat against the wall, straight up sobbing, and I couldn't do anything but stare blankly at her, barely starting to process what had just come out of her plump, rosy lips.

"Wanda" my voice sounded broken, but I couldn't help it. "Wanda, that's not true. What the fuck" I kneeled before her, caressing tenderly and reassuringly every part of her that I reached. "that's not fucking true. Wanda look at me. Wanda." I lifted her chin. "that's not fucking true."

"it is." she replied, sniffing with her eyes shut and her lips pursed in an attempt to stop the tears and the quivering. "you just don't wanna see it. No one--" hiccup. "no one here does b-but I know it's true."

"Wanda for fucks sake it's not true." I pulled her hands to get her to look at me because I was dying to show her how wrong that statement was, even if I wasn't sure yet of how I was going to show her. "Wanda please-- listen to me. Doesn't my opinion count or what the fuck?"

"It's- It's n-not like that it's-- I'm-- Y/n you don't... You see wh- only what you-- you don't see my dark side... I..." words came out of her stumbling as she tried to cover her face once more.

"Look at me!" I tugged her hands harder this time, in a way that she had no option but stare into my eyes, red from holding back the tears. "I don't fucking see your dark side? who the fuck was in Sokovia by your side when you lost it? Whose mind you played with the first time I met you?" the brunette's lip quivered again and I brought her closer. "You're not a monster."

"youjustsaythatbecauseyouloveme" the sentence came out of her so quick and chaotic that I almost didn't understand it.

Almost.

"I'm saying it because I know you." My voice finally shattered, trying to ignore the fact that she knew about my feelings for her —feelings that probably were unrequited— at the same time as I struggled to prove she was wrong. "You're loving, kind-hearted, empathic, amazing, trustful, funny, and I also see your damn flaws alright? But that's- that's not the point."

"then what's the point?" she muttered, tired and hurt.

She was looking for something in particular in my next reply, but I didn't take the cue.

No, no I didn't catch what she was looking for, because my mind was buzzing way too loud, not allowing me to notice that Wanda had just realized I may have feelings for her, feelings that mirrored hers.

"the... The point is that you- I--" I gripped her hands tight, as if the thoughts I couldn't put into words could be sent to her mind by our touch. "the point is that I'm gonna fucking kill whoever said this to you, 'cause-- 'cause I'm-- this-"

I fixed my eyes on hers, and still didn't catch a glimpse of her sudden desire for me to finally put my feelings into those three words.

I didn't catch that, but I didn't come to the conclusion that there was only a way I could somehow show her how wrong she was.

I gave both her hands one last tug and my lips attacked hers, desperate for making the witch feel loved, desperate to prove she wasn't a monster.

Tears kept streaming down my face, instantly being aware of the high chances of her rejecting me, but a thought crossed my mind that gave me strength not to pull away and run.

If someone has to be broken, better be me because of a truth, than her because of an ugly lie.

The chaos in my head stopped me from noticing the sob of relief that came out of Wanda, muffled by my lips, along with her shaky fingers holding onto my shirt as if it was the end of the world.

She pulled away and I prepared myself for the worst, already letting go of her arm and cheek.

To my surprise, in her eyes I saw what I had missed during the kiss, and I also saw love and desire.

She didn't hesitate before closing the gap between us by holding the sides of my neck, letting one of her hands travel to my hair to tug it slightly the moment our mouths reunited.

My hands pulled her hips to mine and sat her down on my lap. "I love you too" she mumbled between hungry kisses, unconsciously rocking her hips to mines. "I... I love you..."

The grip on her hips tightened enough to bruise her while a moan or two left my lips. "Wanda... Wait" I made her stop and, after pecking her lips I pulled away. "I need a shower first."

She nodded but didn't leave her spot.

"Wanda?"

"can I shower with you?" she asked shyly, looking down at her lap.

"of course" I replied kiss her jaw with a half smile. "let's go alright?"

[pedropascalssimp]

●part one●

Demon of the night

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Pairing: brian may x vamp reader.

Summary: its fall when Brian's car breaks down in the middle of nowhere leaving him to walk in the cold midnight air lost. But what happens when he runs into a certain someone..or something...

Warnings: none yet hehehehehehe just some high quality neck licking and probably language?...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

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It's a cold night in london as brian walks out of the bar he and his band just played at, the cold fall chill making him shiver a bit as he bids his friends goodbye while carrying his beloved red special with him, they all say their goodbyes and head back in for a few drinks, usually brian would join but tonight he just didn't feel up to it, instead he just wanted to get home to his flat and rest. So he sets his guitar gently in the backseat of his car while getting in the drivers side and starting it with little difficulty, the old car has been having some trouble starting up lately, but he didn't think anything of it and just decided to have it looked at when he wasn't so busy with recording and playing.

But he would soon regret it when the old thing finally gives up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh while watching all these people walking around the streets at night, deciding which one should be dinner for the night, everyone here seemed so innocent though and you wasn't a murderer...you mostly ate the bad people...like criminals, murders, shit like that.

But as you stand in the shadows leaning against the building, watching these people you couldn't seem to find anyone, you might as well go to the damn graveyard and eat rats. You groan at the thought but it's your only option so you stand up straight, about to leave until someone catches your eye.

If your heart could beat your pretty sure it would be Beating out of your chest right now, the man you spotted was the definition of perfection and pure beauty, and when you saw him smile and wave at his friends you'd assume, is when you felt the connection you was always promised you would feel one day, I feeling you've been waiting for, for over centuries.

You smile at the man as he walks to his car carrying a guitar, his curls bouncing as he walks, and his smile still on his face. You're thoughts trail off as you think of any possible way you can turn him....because he was most definitely your soulmate you could feel it. You frown though once you notice he left...but lucky for you, you can trick that beautiful little mind of his to go wherever you need him to go...and you can follow him.

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" ah shit..." brian mumbles as his car breaks down, he tries turning the key but it doesn't do anything, he sighs and leans his forehead on the stirring wheel, he decides to try and walk to the nearest gas station, but when he looks up he realizes he's in the middle of nowhere...surrounded by trees and the only light there is, is provided by the full moon.

He's beyond confused, last he checked he was on a actual road...but now he's not. He shrugs it off blaming it on the alcohol in his system that roger gave him before their show. He gets out closing the door making an echo through out the dark forest around him. And that's when he see's someone up ahead leaning on a tree.

" hello!." He says slightly loud, while walking toward the person, the closer he gets the more he see's, and that's when he notices it's a beautiful mysterious looking woman, she was paler then any normal human, and had a smirk. He clears his throat and stops walking when he believes He is close enough.

" excuse me ma'am...but my car broke down and I have no idea where I'm at..or how I even got here...but I was wondering if you could kindly point me toward the nearest gas station." He asks, his voice slightly shaking from being nervous, the woman smiles at him showing off her pearly whites...two front teeth sharper then anyone else's he has seen.

" of course I can its about 20miles back the way you came....but that would be an awful long walk for you." She smiles at him, he gulps and runs a hand through his curls.

" that it would be..." he said, he then looks toward the woman once more. " do you live nearby here so I could borrow a phone?." He asks her gently, she grins and motions him to follow her.

" yeah my house is a few minutes from here." She says while walking up the road, brian sighs with relief and follows her.

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You smile as your plan was coming together so smoothly, especially since your little mind game worked on him bringing him right to your house you've lived in since centuries, you smile as the dark Victorian house comes in view, as you walk in you smile at him and motion him towards the ancient 1800s looking phone. He looks at it with a slightly shocked look.

" I know it's a little out of date but it still works." You tell him, he nods and begins figuring out how it works. But after a while he figures it out and calls someone.

But he frowns as nothing happens, he hangs it up and looks at you.

" I thought you said it worked?." He said, you look at him with fake confusion.

" it does...unless the squirrels chewed the chord again." You say, you sigh and give him a apologetic smile. " I'm sorry I'll fix it in the morning...that is if you want to stay the night?." You add, he runs a hand over his face with a small sigh.

" well I dont want to walk 20miles at 2am so I guess if you would allow it I could." He says, you can hear the stress in his voice making you smile kindly at him.

" I have a guest bedroom upstairs that I'll fix for you...I'm y/n y/l/n by the way." You introduce yourself with the same mysterious smile that has Brian's heart beating faster and faster,

" brian may...lovely to met you miss y/l/n." He smiles, you cant help but to fall even more in love with the tall man. He was just so handsome.

" likewise...why dont you have a seat while I make you some tea." You suggest, he nods and sits down. Playing with the end of his shirt sleeve nervously. He felt very sceptical about you and this place. After a few minutes the tea was done and you brought him the small cup, he smiled gratefully at you as you sit in a love seat in front of him.

" so y/n...what was you doing out this late at night anyway?." He asks you curiously, you smile and cross one of your legs over the other.

" well...I have a tomcat that doesn't really like to stay in one place for to long." You tell him, he nods, " he ran outside and I was afraid he would freeze to death where it's so cold so I was looking for him when I found you." You explained,

" I hope you find him." He says sincerely, you smile and stand up.

" dont worry he'll come back as long as I leave the window over there open." You say, he nods once more. You can tell how nervous he is. He seems scared as well and that's when you sit beside him.

" what's the matter bri...you seem scared?." You ask him quietly, he sighs and looks around at the ancient decor of your house...the living room walls was a deep red while the curtains was black, the floor's a dark brown wood while the lights was basically candles in old candle holders...but you had a chandelier providing more light then the candles...and your clothing choice was odd...you wore a black gown that came to your ankles and had long sleeves and the chest was cut out but it had a turtleneck. And your hair was left down

" I'm fine...just a bit shaken up is all." He reassured you, you nod and stand up.

" well what gotten you all shook up then?." You ask him, he stays quiet And you decide to fix the guest bedroom up for him. " I'll be back shortly I just have to fix that bedroom up." You smile and leave him alone to his wondering thoughts.

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Brian stands up and looks at the phone making sure if it started working or not, he didn't want to stay here but the walk was ludacris, he thought you was a nice woman but you seemed so off...like you was hiding things from him he needed to know...he felt unsafe and uncomfortable here. And he had many reasons to, like the fact your house looks like it belongs to the 1800s murderer along with everything inside it...including you. He was scared for some reason.

He picks the phone up ready to call john knowing he would be the one to pick it up at such an hour, but like before it's dead silent on the other end, he curses and slams it down. If only he'd fixed that damn car he wouldn't be in this mess.

As he let's out a string of silent curses he feels as if someone is watching him, chills run through him as he turns around and sees a black cat staring at him with yellow glowing eyes. He jumps a bit as it meows at him with a rather deep meow. Even the cat seemed creepy

" there you are maximus I've been looking everywhere for you!." You say cheerfully, brian looks to the window seeing it's still closed, confusion takes over his features as he looks to the cat. If this was the cat you was looking for then is it in here?.

" I thought you said it ran outside?." He asks confused. Speaking his mind while lookingat the cat." And the windows are shut so how'd he get in?." He adds with wide eyes. The sound of your light giggle fills the silence of the house as you take the cat into your arms.

" he got in through the upstairs window...I always leave mine open at night...I sleep better when cold." You tell him, but he can tell that it's a lie...and that makes him more alert.

" let's get in bed brian its rather late..." you trail off as you walk up stares talking softly to the cat, great now he's stuck with a crazy cat woman. He hesitantly follows you though and you lead him through the dark hallway to a door. You stop and smile at him.

" here you are bri...I hope you have a wonderful nights sleep." You say, you set the cat down watching as it runs into brians room. and smile at him, " I should have the phone fixed in the morning before you wake up...so no need to keep trying." You said while bringing him in for a hug, he hugs back awkwardly and when you pull back you grab his warm hand In your ice cold one.

" goodnight brian...." and with that you disappeared into the next room over from his, he let's out a breath and stares at where you just stood with a confused look, you was the most beautiful yet mysterious woman he has ever met...and the fact you felt so cold made him worry a bit...

But he shrugs it off and walks into his room, the room was dark and cold, no lights on whatsoever, just the moon coming in through the open window beside the old bed with knew sheets and blankets, he sighs while taking his shoes off and sitting on the end of the bed, and holding his head in his hands, even though you seemed weird and off to him, you was a nice lady, Especially offering a complete stranger to stay with you. He felt bad for naming you weird but it seem to fit your description.

After closing the window He decided to get some sleep and laid down on the bed and covering up, he was rather tired and stressed over his car...and the fact he left his beloved red special in the car, that thought never leaving his mind. A small Yelp left Brian's lips as he felt something jumped on him, but he calms down seeing it's just maximus. Staring at him once more.

" maximus please dont stare at me...its creepy...just like everything else in here." He mumbles, the cat meows at him and continues its stare down. Brian sighs and closes his tired eyes. Falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You pace around your room as you wait for the beautiful man to fall asleep, maximus was on watch for that, its around 4am as you patiently wait for the cat to run in here at any moment, you felt bad for doing this for some reason...but if you dont then you let him slip through your fingers like sand, he wont feel the connection unless you bite him...and once done the two of you will be inseparable.

But if you dont bite him then he could walk away leaving you to feel the unbearable pain that takes over you till the day you die...and you'll only die from said pain. And he...he will live a miserable life and you didn't want that for him. And you didn't want that for yourself so you have to turn him...whether he likes it or not.

The sound of a meow breaks your train of thoughts and a smile appears on your face, you quietly walk to his room seeing him sleeping peacefully, his mouth slightly parted as soft snores emitted from him, his beautifully sculpted face making a sense of love run through your cold veins, he was truly a gorgeous human, and your happy that he's the one who you've waited for all your life.

You walk to him and crawl in the bed hovering over him, he stirs a bit and moves around until he's comfortable, you smile and stare at his beautiful neck, you lick your lips as you bring a hand up moving his soft curls out of the way, once done you lean down ghosting your lips across the warm soft silky skin of his neck, you cant help but to lick the flesh, he moves a bit more and that's when your fangs come out and you bite him, he groans and you moan at the taste of his sweet pure blood, it was the best thing you've ever had, it was better then any other you've had, and that's what confirmed he was definitely your soulmate.

You pull your teeth from his neck and lick the mark you'd just made...the only scare that will ever paint his beautiful skin, you smile and roll over beside him to sleep, he was sweating and breathing heavily as he slept, he would sleep for a few days know as his body would adjust to becoming a demon of the night like you, you rest your head on his chest listening to his heart beat, knowing it will be the only and last time you'll hear it.

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A/n.

I was bored and decided to make a brian may x vamp reader imagine series hehehehehe. I hope you guys like it even tho no one looks at my imagines lol...but hopefully this one will get some likes and stuff, theres gonna be a part two btw....

[iamvegorott]

Idk if you remember he high school au from a while back where Dark is head boy or something and Anti writes poems, I didn't create it, but I liked it. And if its not too much to ask, I wanna see Dark, Wilford, and Anti share coming out stories.

Sequel to: Link

Anti was slumped over as he stabbed at his milkshake with the straw, chewing on the inside of his cheek while Dark and Wilford ordered some food. Anti didn’t have any money on him and already felt strange about taking the milkshake Wilford paid for.

“What would you like?” The waiter asked Anti. “I’m sure you want more than the milkshake.” He added with a little laugh.

“I…uh…” Anti slumped down a little more, his stomach not liking the position since it was still sore from the jocks attacking him yesterday. Dark had insisted that the three of them meet to properly discuss what course of action Anti wanted to do since Anti wasn’t in the best mindset to make decisions after getting patched up.

“He’ll take a burger and fries,” Wilford said, handing his menu to the waiter. “He’s shy.” He added when the waiter tilted his head a little.

“Adorable.” The waiter chuckled. “I’ll be back with a new milkshake for you.” He picked up Wilford’s already empty glass and walked away.  

“I’m not hungry.” Anti mumbled, his stomach growling loudly giving his lie away.

“Think of it as payment for basically being the reason why those assholes beat you up.” Wilford said.

“How-”

“Vince, Michael, and Jacob are all to be suspended for fighting but it can easily be made into expulsion if you are wishing for that.” Dark stated, cutting Anti’s question short. Anti didn’t need to know about Dark grabbing Vince, the quarterback, and slamming him into a nearby wall and demanding why he thought it was appropriate to attack a fellow student for being gay since they’ve never bothered Wilford and Dark about it. Wilford was a big fan of it though.

“I don’t care what happens to those fucks.” Anti said, finally taking a sip from his milkshake.

“Expulsion it is.” Dark chuckled, catching the little smirk on Wilford’s lips. Anti was now downing his milkshake, enjoying it a lot more than he thought he would. He suddenly yelped and placed the drink down, rubbing at his temple.

“Brain freeze?” Wilford asked with a laugh. “Press your thumb to the roof of your mouth.” Anti just raised a brow at Wilford before doing what he suggested, relaxing when the pain went away.

“The waiter was right when he said you were adorable.” Wilford said while Dark just chuckled, Anti curled up a little and there was a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

“I tend to be right.” The waiter said as he walked up to the table and sat the new milkshake down. “Want another one?” He asked Anti.

“He’ll love one.” Dark answered out loud for Anti when Anti just shook his head.

“Your food should be ready soon, I’ll come back with both.” The waiter took Anti’s glass and left again.

“I don’t need you two trying to buy my forgiveness.” Anti said, crossing his arms.

“We’re not trying to buy your forgiveness, you just look like you weigh ten pounds soaking wet.” Wilford said in a teasing tone. “Plus it was pretty clear you liked the shake.”

“Do your parents know of your sexuality?” Dark suddenly asked and Anti curled up again.

“None of your business.” Anti muttered.

“Mine didn’t even need me to come out.” Wilford laughed. “They just knew.”

“I had a sit down with mine and there were no problems.” Dark stated. Anti chewed his lip for a moment before sitting up a little.

“I didn’t really come out…I was caught.” Anti said, seeing the questioning look on Dark and Wilford’s face. “It was freshmen year and Marvin and I were hanging out and we got curious so we…” Anti cleared his throat. “We kissed and my parents walked in at the wrong time and that lead to a long night of talking. Marvin avoided eye-contact with me for a bit but now we’re fine and he’s with Chase.”

“What was your parent’s reaction?” Dark asked.

“They were confused at first, they didn’t get it and thought I was the one confused, but now they’re just happy I’m not breaking the law.” Anti shrugged. “They think I’ll grow out of it.”

“They’ll understand one day.” Dark said in a kind tone, catching Anti off-guard a little.

“So, you should totally submit some of your poems to the school paper!” Wilford said, changing the subject.

“What!? No!” Anti yelped.

“Why not? They’re really good.” Wilford said.

“They are very creative.” Dark added.

“They’re not that good.” Anti’s face was turning red again.

“Here we are!” The waiter returned with a tray balancing on one hand and a shake in the other. “Shake, fries and burger for the green-boy.” He said as he placed down the items in front of Anti. “Burger and onion rings for the candy-man.” Wilford got his food. “And a salad for the dark-lord.” Dark rolled his eyes at the comment but thanked the waiter. “I’ll be back to check on you three later.” The waiter winked and clicked his tongue before going to his other table. Anti picked up his burger and took a large bite out of it, a smile on his face as he chewed and rocked his head.

“Adorable.” Wilford sang in a whisper to Dark.

“Oh hush.” Dark said before putting a forkful of salad into his mouth.

“I’m just saying.” Wilford chuckled and started to eat his food as well.

[forkanna]

This chapter contains some brief NSFW content.

ALSO: Oreo O's are back. Thought you all should be made aware.

[AO3 LINK]

Elsa felt like her morning shower took twice as long as usual. Perhaps that was because she washed every part of her body twice, other than her hair.

Her sister's hand had been so close. Much closer than it should ever have come. But that wasn't the reason she kept scrubbing her skin until it shone red here and there; no, that was because she hadn't altogether hated the idea. Much as she knew it was wrong…

'What if Anna did keep going?' she thought as she slid the soapy washcloth over the back of her thigh again. 'What if I hadn't panicked and told her to stop, and… and I actually let her touch me? Would that make me the worst big sister in the world?'

The instinct was still there. Despite all those years apart, she still couldn't help feeling responsible for her little sister; even when she was the one pushing things, changing their relationship. Anna had lost her faith in God, and she had gone so far away from the righteous path that she not only wanted to sleep with women, but with one related to her. It was beyond "astray"!

But without thinking about religion… would she feel the same way? It was hard for her after so many years with her mother. Practically her entire existence had been centered around bringing glory and honour to His name. How on earth was she supposed to do that if she was so very tempted to sin?

'Okay, okay, get it together, Elsa. You're a smart, capable woman. You're in university, and doing great there! Just… think.'

True, the Bible said homosexuality was wrong. But then again, both Anna and Rapunzel had pointed out that might not really be the case. It certainly didn't feel wrong when she was wrapped tightly in Anna's arms, heart singing from how her soft lips felt. Body craving to even just be tickled again, if not more. The fact that she was her sister didn't seem to matter.

But it should. That was something everyone seemed to agree on, gay or straight. How could Anna want to do these kinds of things with her? How could she let her do them? They both had the same parents, the same DNA — with a few differences, of course. Had grown up together, played together and been read the same bedtime stories. Gone to the same schools before the divorce had changed all that. It was perverse… or should have been.

The mere thought of Anna pressing her down into the bed again renewed the tingles. She could try to lie to herself, say that she liked the feeling but not the person doing it, but what was the point? She wanted it to happen. She wanted it to happen with Anna again.

Anna, and no one else.

The moment she had that thought, she hated how true it was. She had the hots for her little sister. Crazy! She was literally crazy. It had crept up on her a little at a time, every time they held hands, or kissed, or hugged just a few seconds too long. Desire. Lust. The only thing that kept her from thinking of herself as a horrible monster was the knowledge that Anna started everything in the first place.

'And I don't even know if I'll like sex,' she thought at herself as she washed under her arms with more intensity than was necessary. 'Why should I try it with a sibling before anybody else?'

'Because it's more comfortable with Anna,' that irritating voice in the back of her mind replied. With nothing to distract her other than water and soap, she couldn't block out the thoughts that she had been doing such a good job of suppressing. 'You've been so intimidated by boys and the whole idea of dating for so long. Either because you were scared of opening up to a stranger… or because you were saving yourself for-'

The soap shot out of her hand and thunked into the wall, then slid down into the tub. No. No, she had never thought about Anna that way before. That wasn't right! One just didn't think about one's own sister that way, ever! But what if, on a subconscious level, she had? She could remember Anna saying she wanted to marry Elsa when they were small, and it being "cute" to her and to her father. Of course, their mother had laughed and then patiently explained that girls didn't marry other girls, and Anna had shrugged and asked if they could both be space pirates instead. The issue had been considered closed, but…

'Anna's always been in love with you. She always wanted to kiss you, and spend time with you, and follow you around. Made or bought you gifts. Told you how pretty you are. And now… she wants all of you.'

This time, the thought coincided with the washcloth pressing between her legs… and it felt different than it usually did. Stronger, more pronounced. Unbidden, a sound escaped from her lips.

"Oh!"

That was too much for the poor blonde. Immediately, she threw the washcloth into the corner and rinsed herself as quickly as she could, put the soap back in its cradle, and turned off the water.

There was a soft knock on the door, Anna's signature five-tap. "You okay in there?" she called through the door.

"Y-yes!" Elsa yelped as if Anna had barged right in, even though the door was firmly shut. "Sorry! I'll be out soon, I'm sorry, Anna!" Yanking the towel from the rack, she stepped out onto the mat as she began to pat down her skin.

There was silence on the other end of the door for a moment. "O-Okay, I was just going to let you know I'm going to step out for a minute to fetch something."

"Oh. Well… alright, Anna. I'll talk to you soon, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be quick." Anna said before walking away, her footsteps fading rapidly until Elsa could hear the door open and close behind her.

Sighing in relief, Elsa finished towelling off and went back into the room. She was almost grateful that she didn't have to face Anna now; not when her last few thoughts had been about their illicit passions.

By the time Anna returned, Elsa was dressed in all but her boots, ready for the last day of the week with the campers. She secretly was glad of it, as she wanted to spend some time figuring out her relationship with Anna. But it would also be good to have a bit of a buffer during the day. Maybe, if she could throw around her thoughts for long enough between distractions, she could figure out what they truly meant to each other. Just sisters, or…

The redhead held a large bar of pure white chocolate out to her sister, smiling tentatively. "Thought you could use something sweet," she offered and gave the bar a little shake. "White is still one of your favourites, right?"

"It is," she laughed as she took the bar. "Thank you, Anna."

Anna's smile grew bigger and she looked delighted. "Awesome!" She gave a little fist pump. "Okay, so what's the game plan today?"

"Well…" Clearing her throat, she began to peel open the chocolate bar. "There's breakfast, which I'm spoiling right now. After that, it's a beach day. Then… I think we're scheduled for that talk given by the representative from the First Nations."

"Alright, sounds good," she said cheerfully as she started running a brush through her hair. "And come on, chocolate is so much better than breakfast!"

Giggling at her sister's enthusiasm, she nearly forgot about everything she had been thinking up until that point. Nearly. Halfway through chewing her bite, it came back to her, and she lost her smile.

"Anna," she began after swallowing, "are you alright? Sorry. What I mean is, is everything alright? With you? This morning?"

Anna faltered only for a minute. "I'm fine." While her tone was a little more subdued than it had been seconds ago, she sounded sincere. "Are you alright?"

"I think so. But after last night, I'm not sure how I can be." Then she swallowed and licked her lips before continued, "B-but we don't have to talk about it right now. I just… just wanted to make sure you weren't… I don't know, upset because I stopped you. Or upset because we went that far, or upset for any reason at all, I guess. I don't know!"

"I'm not upset," Anna said as she reached out to pat Elsa's arm. "Last night was an accident and unless you tell me it's okay, it won't happen again. Because you're not ready, which is fine! I love you, Elsa, I can never be that mad at you." She leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Come on, let's go get the kids."

But before Anna could turn away, Elsa caught her up and pulled her into a tight embrace. She whispered into the side of her neck, "I love you, too, Anna. No matter what happens, I'm not losing sight of that again. That's a promise, Moondrop."

Anna didn't even hesitate hugging her back, letting out a shaky breath of relief that indicated just how thankful she was. "Thank you," she whispered back. "I promise I won't, either."

"Good." As they approached the door, she added onto that, "And thank you again for the chocolate. It's… it was really unhealthy for a breakfast, but also really delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it," she laughed and grinned toothily at her sister. "We all need an unhealthy breakfast from time to time!" She linked her arm with Elsa's and bumped her hip playfully against hers.

"Maybe so," she chuckled under her breath as they walked out.

Within a few minutes they were in the cafeteria, going through the line to get pancakes with syrup and bacon. Elsa couldn't help but feel her heart lighten slightly; Anna wasn't upset with her for calling a halt to their "experimenting" the night before. She had expressed a concern, and Anna hadn't even been hurt for a split second. They were going to be alright.

Or so she thought.

"Elsa? May I speak with you for a moment?" Aurora smiled sweetly as she approached the two, disregarding the confused look Anna gave her and keeping her attention on Elsa. "Alone?"

"Well…" She was too surprised to answer right away. Instead, she glanced over at Anna with a regretful look, as if to say, "Do you mind?" and "I'm sorry" at the same time. Anna shrugged and gave Elsa a light smile.

"I'll just go sit with Punzie. Feel free to join us when you're done with your talk, alright?"

Aurora nodded and grabbed Elsa's arm just a little too tightly, giving her another sweet smile. "Come on. We can talk over by the tree outside, where it's private." With that, the other blonde began to tug Elsa away.

Once they were under the shade of the tree, Elsa sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Alright, Aurora, what is it?"

"You and Anna seem like rather close friends." The sweetness in Aurora's tone was pretty much completely gone and she gave Elsa a haughty look. "Too close, if you ask me."

"Isn't that the point of camp?" Elsa hedged, still waiting for the true reason for this conversation to become clear. "To get closer to God, and to each other?"

"Grow closer as a church, yes." Aurora crossed her arms. "We all need to learn to love thy neighbour and build strong communities that uphold our faith. However, that's not what I meant by you and Anna being close. And I think you know that."

A sinking feeling began to creep up on Elsa. However, she tried to hold it at bay; there was no possible way she could know anything. After all, their few random encounters that had been not-so-sisterly never happened where people would've been able to see. Aurora was grasping at straws.

"What do you mean, then?" she asked a little coldly.

Aurora sneered, "You two have been awfully snuggly for being just friends, Elsa — Belle told me that she saw you and Anna having a rather intimate picnic last week and Snow mentioned how she overheard some tidbits of a very interesting talk you two were having during the hike. I was willing to shrug all this off; after all, some friends are closer than others. However…" The other blonde's eyes narrowed. "You two kissed last night. That, I can't ignore."

"Belle? Snow?" Elsa breathed first, before her own eyes narrowed. "Wait, what are you talking about? We kissed? How could you have-" She caught herself before finishing that thought, incriminating as it was, but she worried it was too late. "What makes you think I kissed anyone last night?"

"I saw you," Aurora snapped, impatient now but also clearly enjoying the opportunity to come right out and say it. "I forgot my coat in the cafeteria kitchens last night and caught you and Anna kissing! I thought you were a God-fearing woman, Elsa! That's disgusting!"

All of the colour drained from her face. She saw. How could she have? When did-

Then she remembered the noise they had heard, the apron that had fallen off the counter. Of course. Someone else had been there. How could they have been so stupid?! Even though they had every reason to believe no one else could be in the kitchens at that point, there was no way to be sure — not in a public location like that! And now, it was too late. Aurora knew what they had been up to around the campgrounds, even if she only knew one tiny shred of information. That was one shred too many.

"Y-you just didn't know what you saw," she attempted in a hoarse voice.

"While I have been saving myself for the man I marry - unlike you, Elsa - I know what two people kissing looks like." Aurora glared at Elsa as her head shook very slowly. "I'm so disappointed. We all thought you were a devout Christian and I find out you're a-" She couldn't finish her sentence.

She didn't know why she was trying to deny it. Perhaps to protect Anna, or perhaps just to protect herself. But what she said was, "You don't know anything — and even if you did, you have no proof. So I d-don't know what you think you saw, but… and anyway, this is none of your concern!"

"Now I guess we can add lying to the list," Aurora tsk-ed. "It is my concern when it puts the children at risk of learning your habits." She said the word like it was poison on her tongue. "They shouldn't have to be exposed to that, Elsa! It's dangerous for their futures!"

"Maybe if you weren't stalking me, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" she couldn't help hissing angrily, trying to ignore how hot her face was likely growing. "You came to 'get your coat' — what a lie!"

"I want you to put an end to this, Elsa," the honey blonde snapped right back, ignoring the accusation. "Switch cabins and stop talking to her. I swear, if I catch you and Anna so much as looking at each other, I'll tell Father Frollo of your sins and have one or both of you evicted!"

The threat did give Elsa pause. On the other hand, she knew in her higher mind - the one that wasn't terrified at the moment - that Aurora knew nothing, and had no real proof. But if they stopped being careful, if they slipped up and let themselves be caught again, she could easily make proof at any time. All it would take is one incriminating cell phone photo and there would be dark times ahead of them.

"I'm not switching cabins," she told her, voice below zero. "And I'm not going to stop talking to Anna. You are wrong about what our friendship means, and I'm not going to let you… let you drive some wedge between us!"

The other girl drew back, looking surprised. However, it didn't take long for her surprise to melt into a furious scowl. "You met her three weeks ago, as if she means that much to you already." She rolled her eyes disdainfully. "But fine. If you want to be like that, I'll just go find the good Father right now."

"And tell him what? Make wild accusations?" Shaking her head, she took a step forward. "You wouldn't dare. Not when you have no proof. It would just make everyone uncomfortable, all over the camp, and nothing would be proven — there isn't any point, it won't get you anywhere!"

Aurora glared at Elsa for several moments before she nodded. "You're right, I don't have proof," she said. "But it won't be long until you slip up; sin always comes out, and when that happens, I'll have all the proof I need."

An enormous sigh floated out of Elsa. She knew Aurora was right; she had her dead to rights, even if she had zero proof of she and Anna's indiscretions. So she cleared her throat, tucking both hands behind her back. She could be just as much of a "frigid bitch" as the saying went.

"Fine, you seem very convinced. Just tell me what it is you want so I can get on with my day, okay?"

This smile was the worst yet: poisonous and self-satisfied. "I'll keep this brief. If me or any of the girls ask you for any favours, you and Anna have to do them. Simple, yes?"

Elsa was taken aback. After trying to wrap her mind around the statement for a few seconds, she demanded, "Are you… blackmailing me? After all that talk about 'doing what's right'?!"

Aurora shook her head. "That's a rather sinful word. I'm simply trying to make your life easier. The other girls can be rather chatty, you know, and you wouldn't want them chatting to the wrong person. I'm saying that they'll be more likely to keep their language clean if you did some favours in return." She smiled coldly. "A favour in exchange for a favour. Simple math."

For a few seconds, Elsa pondered her situation. She didn't like where it was going… but she also knew that this kind of thing could really ruin her reputation. Hers, and Anna's. That was the last thing either of them wanted, and she had a duty to protect her little sister.

Especially if she's also your girlfriend, that mean little voice in the back of her head whispered. The one that was brutally honest, and she tried to ignore.

"Listen," she hissed at Aurora. "You don't know what you're talking about, and you don't have any proof. But for the sake of keeping the peace… I'll go along with this. Within reason. If you start acting like you own this camp, the deal is off and I'll just find out what happens when you open your mouth."

"Fine. I'll be in touch. Be sure to inform your precious Anna. And do be aware that we'll be keeping an eye open." With that, Aurora left with a sharp strut.

"Who is we?!" she flung at Aurora's back. But she didn't deign to turn or answer. Sighing, she shook her head violently and stomped back inside to her sister.

Anna turned and started to smile at her sister but the smile fell almost immediately upon seeing the dark look gracing Elsa's face. "Elsa? Are you okay?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Um…"

What was the point in hedging? Seeing no alternative, Elsa told Anna everything, trying to keep her voice as calm and quiet as possible. She stuck to the facts of their situation without bringing her own emotions into it, chaotic as they were. Anna looked livid by the time Elsa was done, her teal eyes burning.

"That's awful!" she declared, forgetting to keep her voice low enough so not to drawn attention to the two of them in her anger. When Elsa shushed her, she leaned closer to whisper, "How dare they threaten you like that?!"

"She's full of hot air," Elsa grunted, cheeks burning in tandem with her anger. "There's no proof. I… I do feel bad that she caught us, but it was dark, she… there's no way she really saw anything. Just that we looked like we were kissing."

Anna huffed and looked around, noticing a few curious glances in their direction before she reached out and grabbed Elsa's arm, giving it a little tug. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter."

"Can we? I thought… well, shouldn't we get back to the campers? After we finish our food, I mean."

Anna's mouthed a silent curse and nodded. "Tonight. We really should discuss this and what we should do."

"We should. For now…" Sighing, she ran fingers through her fringe again. "Okay. Let's just agree to keep denying that any kissing happened. No need to tell lies, that's only going to make things worse, just… tell them they're stupid for believing it. And avoid confirming. That's… that's the best we can do without disappointing God by creating huge falsehoods."

"Okay." She let out a long sigh as she nodded. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position. What are we going to do about the others? Are we just going to… do those 'favours'?"

"Well, I told her 'within reason'. If they start asking us to do anything really humiliating in front of the other campers, I'd say that crosses the line. But if they keep it to simple things…" Shrugging and sighing, she pursed her lips. "This is going to be annoying. Just use your best judgment."

The redhead took Elsa's hand in her own, giving it a warm squeeze. "We'll get through this. What's the worst they can do?"

Famous last words. She gave an optimistic grin, but it was one Elsa did not quite share.

                                               To Be Continued...