#Cold Storage Cleaning service

[sophiasmith81]

Expert Cold Storage Cleaning by Cool Clean

Cool Clean specializes in professional cold storage cleaning services, ensuring hygienic and safe environments. Our trained team uses industry-leading methods to eliminate contaminants and maintain optimal conditions for your stored goods. Trust Cool Clean for thorough and effective cold storage cleaning solutions.

[edwardslowell]

Edwards-Lowell | Fur Service | Cleaning furs in Los Angeles CA

We are your dependable and trustworthy go-to for exquisite Fur Service in Los Angeles CA, specializing in providing premium fur garments and accessories tailored to perfection. Our skilled craftsmen bring timeless elegance and unmatched quality to every piece. From fur coats to jackets, we offer a wide selection to suit your unique style. Moreover, we are also renowned for Cleaning furs in Los Angeles CA, aiming to maintain the allure of your fur garments. Our experienced team utilizes industry-leading methods and equipment to remove dirt, odors, and stains without compromising the integrity of the fur. Understanding the delicate nature of furs, we will help you preserve their beauty. So, if you need our expert assistance, call us today.

[sumitverma3297]

Ac Duct cleaning & cold storage services in Dubai 

Are you looking for a reputable business in Dubai that offers ac duct cleaning & cold storage services? If so, don't look past our staff at Ringo AC Services. We are committed to delivering high levels of customer satisfaction and provide a wide range of services to our clients. To schedule a consultation or to find out more about our services, get in touch with us right away.

Introduction to ac duct cleaning and cold storage services in Dubai 

Duct cleaning and cold storage are important services for businesses in Dubai. Duct cleaning can help keep your building clean and healthy, and cold storage can help keep your food and products cold. Many companies offer these services in Dubai, so you may need to research to find the best one for your business.

The benefits of ac duct cleaning and cold storage services 

There are many benefits to having your ac ducts cleaned regularly. Not only will your home be cooler and more comfortable, but you will also protect your family from harmful pollutants and allergens. Regular cold storage services can also help keep your food fresh and nutritious. Contact a reliable ac and cold storage service today to learn more about the benefits of their services.

How to find the best ac duct cleaning and cold storage services in Dubai 

Dubai is a city in the United Arab Emirates home to many businesses and residences. If you need ac duct cleaning or cold storage services, it can be difficult to determine which company best fits your needs. These hints will assist you in locating the top AC duct cleaning and cold storage providers in Dubai.

First, do your research. Many companies offer these services in Dubai, so take the time to read reviews and compare pricing. Be sure to ask the company many questions to ensure they are the right fit for your needs.

Second, ask around. You know someone who has used ac duct cleaning or cold storage services in Dubai. Ask them for a referral, or if they have any negative experiences to share.

Ringo AC Services is a leading provider of air conditioning services in Dubai, and they are also one of the top duct manufacturers in UAE. They offer custom-made ducts for both commercial and residential clients, ensuring that the air conditioning systems are running efficiently. They also provide duct cleaning service Dubai, which helps to maintain the indoor air quality of the building. Ringo AC Services also provides cold storage installation, cold storage construction services, and cold storage maintenance. Their team of experts can design and construct custom cold storage facilities that meet the highest industry standards, and they provide comprehensive maintenance services to ensure that the facilities are operating at optimal efficiency. With Ringo AC Services, you can rest assured that your HVAC and cold storage needs are in capable hands.

[silkenwinger]

natural predator

ghost x reader, shifter x shifter. strangers to friends to lovers with a little push. based on this and this. MDNI. cw: stalking, implied manipulation, scent kink, mating cycles/in heat, the slightest dubious consent, biting, implied knotting (it's still rather vanilla). dividers by @/strangergraphics

There are many ways to pass the time. 

You can walk around the block once, twice, until the winter frostiness gives out. Clean your one room apartment from top to bottom, taking care in picking soft scents not to overwhelm your nose. Enter the same shop every Wednesday, never buying anything because it is expensive. It’s a way of living. Perhaps not the best. You wouldn’t know any other, now.

It wasn’t always like this. You used to have parents and friends. Shared dinners. Warm faces by your neck and vice versa. It was scary, seeing it all change. And not being able to do anything about it but flee, thinking it’d be fine somewhere else. A space for your kind doesn’t exist anywhere. You make one by picking a corner and sitting there. And you’re fine here. These past months have gone by smoothly, if a little lifeless.

The one light from the canopy outside keeps flickering beat by beat through the glass doors as you check the register.

“Real issue, that one,” says your manager, Joe. Joe is nice. He lets you do as you please as long as you do the bare minimum. It’s just the two of you, most evening and night shifts in this gas station, and he takes frequent naps he calls resting his eyes.

“When did the repair man say he’d come?”

“Between tomorrow and Friday.” It’s Monday. “I swear my eyes are about to pop open. It’s always just behind them.” He says, making a gesture towards his head.

You close the register. The shop’s jingle plays while you bend over to fix the leg of your pants. When you rise to your full height again, you see him.

Imposing. Dressed in black. Silent and overbearing. He’s wearing the usual surgical black mask, and a cap. Outside, he wears the sweatshirt’s hood on the latter, but he has the sense to take it off inside.

“Good evening,” says Joe, throwing the man a suspicious look. Joe is wary of anyone he can’t get a full report of age and provenience out of, not to mention someone who doesn’t entertain his small talk. Bar you, since you’re a great listener.

The man doesn’t answer. Just lingers on the “sports and health” section for a minute, before grabbing a powdered protein bottle and taking it straight to the counter. You grab it without even looking at him in the eye. Scanning it, you chance a look. His black eyes are focused on your hands, a scar runs on his temple, jagged. His hair looks almost white in the cold, artificial light, his hands in the sweatshirt’s pocket. His eyes leave your hands and meet yours. A sensation crawls on top of you: the need to run. You ignore it and unlock your elbows. Prey instinct isn’t well received in human society.

There’s no nicer way of saying he has a smell. It’s not unpleasant, not at all. But it’s not quite a scent you can name either. Not vanilla, nor a spicy breeze. Not even a heavy musk. It’s just… odd.

You drop the bottle on the counter and tell him his total. He pays cash. Always. His nails brush against your palm as he drops it in your hand, and your breath is quivering. You snatch off your hand in a rush. In the corner of your eye, you can see Joe glaring at the both of you. He must be thinking you’re loony. You more than him, since you’re neglecting basic customer service pleasantries. 

He leaves. Your shoulders relax. But you can still smell him all around. 

You take a walk to the storage room. 

—

You skip around, the limited space hindering your jumps. In the distance cars speed and drive away, the sound muted by the rustling of foliage around your legs. The full moon shows your way through the arms of the trees, silver rays making a stone path on the green high grass. Your ear tickles to the left when you hear a sound, some sort of raspy screeching that has you raise your head. Unsettled, you turn back from where you came from, the meat in your thighs turning sour.

Joe is still asleep, his shiny head falling over his chest. When he wakes and sees you sitting at the counter, he makes an off comment about your hair being messy, voice still slurred by sleep. You fix yourself through the metal reflection on the fridges’ handles and clean the dirt from your nose.

—

Two teenage girls keep shoving their phones in your face. So far from their conversation and monologue towards you, it seems they’re on the lookout for something they call a “dupe”— a lipstick or something. You tell them all the makeout you hold is by the register, on their left. Their expressions clearly show their dissatisfaction with the selection, hands slapping to their sides when they let go of something. 

“Girls! We have to go!” Yells the children’s mother from near the exit, and the twins huff in perfect synchrony. They give the makeout shelf a final disparaging look and exit the store, not minding you one bit. You finish stacking up the bandaids, the sunset outside flooding the enclosed space in orange. You go back to the register when you hear someone entering, so used to the shop’s jingle it’s not annoying anymore.

When the hooded man comes to stand before you, you don’t even think twice. There’s something weird in the air, and he hasn’t come in two days. Maybe he was busy. But the eyes and face you find aren’t of the blonde man, and the fabric covering his mouth isn’t that of a surgical mask. The startling blue colour of his irises freezes your mind. The barrel of a gun is pointed straight at you, an extension of the man’s long arm. 

The first instinct is always to run. But you find yourself stuck to the place, the thump of your heart resounding in your ears. The man is yelling at you, demanding you to open the register, the glossy finishing of the weapon almost blinding. Your right hand twitches, flexes. You’re sure he’s going to shoot you in the head. The muzzle of the gun is moving side to side, diagonally, shifting lightly enough that it would be almost imperceptible to less acute eyes. The man is shaking. The scent is that of fear.

He shifts as if hit by a train. An unstoppable force. The robber falls to the ground, his body making a loud thunk, the gun dropping from his hold. The spell broken, you lean over the counter, your sweaty hands holding the edge of it. On the ground, the man is on his belly, a bigger body over him. You recognize the cold shine of blond hair.

The police come after you finally call them. You think the blond man might have knocked the robber out, because he’s still prone on the ground while he sits on his legs. He hasn’t said a word to you. Just sent you a glare that said call the cops. While the police take the man away, you call Joe and tell him everything, still looking at the mystery man through the glass doors. Joe says you can close the shop, his voice worried. 

You find him still smoking outside. Shifting on your feet, you take his appearance in more carefully. The scent is less intense now, covered by the smoke and dispersed in the open air. The only lights are that of the canopy and the lit cigarette. He’s regarding it as if it’s an ancient book worth revering, the stick looking dwarfed in between his fingers. Tapping your heels, you tuck your nose inside the neck of your coat.

“Thank you,” you let out.

He looks at you like you’ve told him to go jump off a bridge. The blood in your vein chills. 

“Common where you’re from?” He asks, his voice even more rough than you’ve expected. You swallow and take a step back. 

“Excuse me?”

He makes a vague gesture towards the station, the woods behind. You follow his hand with your eyes and tilt your head to the right, confused.

“Putting your smell all over. Calling everyone to come here.” He then takes a long look, up and down your body, that makes you want to crawl back inside your skin. “Don’t look like the type to enjoy the attention.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, offended, but don’t move from where you’re standing. He is smelling you, as well? That can’t mean… His expression is annoyed, like he’s had this conversation with you a hundred times and more. Your nose twitches. He doesn’t reply to you, choosing instead to put out the cigarette on the ground and walk back to his car. You’re left, speechless, looking at his back.

—

It’s your free day. You can do everything you want during your free day.

You go running, of course. Choose a little spot off the running track, a clearing with tall grass. You take a few bites, but you’re never really satisfied when you eat in this form. It’s only instinct that makes you do so. 

All of the sudden, the air changes. The needles on your back multiply, as do your look backs. At some point, you’re certain you’re being stared at. Your hind legs kick, the jump propelling you inside the trees, and you disappear among the foliage.

—

“You should use this.” 

A green container is dropped in front of you on the counter. It’s not something you sell in the shop. You look up to the blond man with a dubious face.

“To hide your scent.” He says nonchalantly. You scrunch your face and ignore the unasked gift. You get to the heart of it.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon,” he answers flatly, while his eyes shift to look at the blue plate on your chest. “That your real one?” He says pointing to it with a long finger.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“These,” you say, taking the container in your hand. It’s full of white, small pills, “work… for our kind?”

“Yeah. More for territory issues than anything else.”

“But you still smell.” You shake the bottle in front of him. From above the mask, one of his eyebrows shifts.

“Better than nothing.” His tone is ironic. Ugh, no one wants to be told they reek all the time. You pout, but pocket the pills. His eyebrow is still quirked.

“Just like that?” He says, surprised.

“Uh? You told me to take them.”

“You don’t know me.”

You roll your eyes. You can’t read him at all, but you suppose he’s made you a pet case of his, a new shifter who needs help in his turf. So why preach stranger danger now?

“You already saved me once.” You lower your eyes. “Does that mean there’s a lot of us here, in this city?” You try to keep your tone neutral, but you fear it sounds more hopeful than it ought to be.

He looks uncomfortable now. Like a mother who promised her son a new toy and can’t buy it for Christmas.

“I know a couple of people,” he scratches the back of his neck. “John Price, good man. Big.” He pauses. “I’ll give you my phone number. If anyone else but him pops up here, or at your house, you call me.”

That’s when Joe makes his entrance. His face tells you that he’s not thrilled you two are having this conversation. 

“Everything alright here?” He asks you as he spreads his hands on the counter, and you realize he’s worried Simon’s bothering you. His figure, small and round, pales against the solidity of the taller man’s body, but he holds his head high. And Simon, maybe now conscious of how he’s coming across, shrinks.

“Yes, don’t worry,” you smile shyly to Joe, happy he’s worried about you. But Simon is not necessarily bothering you. You enjoy having someone to talk to about that. Someone who is just like you.

—

He offers to take you home when your car won’t start one rainy night. You tell him you can wait for the tow truck beneath the canopy but he’s unremovable. You don’t question why he was waiting for you to finish your shift. In his car, you just keep your hands in between your thighs, the warmth of the heater thawing your toes. He fiddles with the radio, big fingers turning the dial, the slightest amount of light hair on them. His face is neutral, but you wouldn’t call it relaxed.

“You've been taking them? The suppressants,” he adds, while he turns for what seems the tenth time.

“Yes. Does it not seem so?” You ask, now self conscious.

He doesn’t answer your question. A bit put off by his lack of politeness, you cross your arms and look outside of the car window, limiting your indications to one word replies. He doesn’t seem to need them anyway. When he stops at your house, you put a hand on the door handle and look at him. Something is missing.

“... Do you want to come upstairs?” You ask, voice trembling less than you’d expect from yourself. Again, he doesn’t answer. He just exits the car, long limbs getting out the seat and into the drizzle. You scramble to get out as well. He feels even bigger at your shoulders as you guide him up the stairs. When you enter your apartment, you’re embarrassed by the state you left it in that morning. Simon doesn’t seem to mind, still looking around the space like it might reveal some great conspiracy. Then, he lifts his gaze at you, implicit question in his brown eyes. You look down, biting your lower lip in anxiety.

“This is all I could find on my budget,” you try to justify your living situation, like he’s owed an explanation. He shakes his head.

“It’s nice,” he says, maybe not completely genuinely. But you’re so surprised by a compliment coming from him you almost stutter.

“Please sit,” you say, gesturing to the small table. You make tea in your electric kettle, feeling his eyes behind you all the time. Uncomfortable with his staring and the silence, you try to make small talk, the way Joe has taught you makes customers feel at ease.

“Does it always rain so much here?” You ask, while bringing the mugs to the table. Simon grabs his by the main part instead of the handle, uncaring of the heat. Probably just to do something. He looks huge at your table, the size of the apartment not matching the size of his body.

“Yes. The whole region is rainy.”

“Alright.” You fiddle with the teabag in your cup by its string. Unprompted, you attempt to find the answer to something you’ve suspected for a while.

“Have you been watching me while I’m changed?” You ask, the words flowing out of your mouth like a river in full. He doesn’t answer at first, his whole figure completely still, and you think he’s going to start yelling at you. Maybe you’ve offended him greatly, and the way his kind goes about it, he’ll tear your throat apart. But you don’t even know what kind he is, really. Then, his lips part.

“Just keeping an eye on you,” he says, looking you in the eye, the warm light of the ceiling fan casting shadows on his face. His voice is earnest, and honest, and you want to ask a thousand questions but you think you might already know the answer to some. You tilt your head to the left.

“Worried I’ll commit a crime?” You joke, remembering the way he subdued the robber.

“Worried about others, more like.” He answers flatly, and a flame stokes in the center of your chest. 

“Come say hi next time,” you whisper, the blood in your cheeks scorching hot.

He really does scowl at that, as if he’s tasted something rotten.

“Don’t think that’s wise, pet.”

—

He digs a place for himself in your life and sits there quietly. Always in the vicinity.

The days he comes to the station are more than the ones he does not. He buys mundane stuff, necessities he could easily get when he gets groceries, and starts even getting his gas from you. Requests your service specifically. Joe only looks at you with knowing eyes nowadays, and you’re victim to an unstoppable rush of implicating jokes once you leave Simon.

“You’re the only client I’ve gotten the whole month for gas, you know,” you tell him while he sits in the car, the window lowered. His face is even harder to read with sunglasses on.

“Pity. I find myself well serviced,” he says, and your hackles rise at the friendly, even flirting tone of his. You smile to yourself as you pump the gas, tapping your nails on the black varnished trunk.

With the gas in his tank, he drives you around. Actually, he helps you buy a new table. He says the other one makes his back hurt, so you pick a taller version and he pays. He sticks to your side even when the majority of your time together is spent in silence, or with you recounting your shift at work. He points to you clearings nearby you can shift in more covertly, big places where hunting is always forbidden. The itch to know more about him is always at the back of your throat, but you never ask Simon anything that would stab in too deep.

You meet John Price. He’s been itching to see you, Simon says– and they’re ex coworkers, too, so Simon trusts him implicitly. The moment you see him, you think he must be a bear, his long moustache, the slope of his brow bone. He tells you as much himself, freely, after taking a big sip of his beer.

“You’re a deer, right lassie?” You nod demure at the question. “Only ruminant of the area. Can’t say the green spaces are ample, but,” he smiles, eyes crinkling, “it’s a quiet city thanks to us.” He shoves at Simon’s chest, the latter staying still. The shadow of a smile plays on Simon’s mouth.

It’s not like you don’t know there can be animosity between shifters. You remember there being scuffles back home too– but it’s just little old you here. You doubt anyone would even notice you. When you say as much, the look you receive from the two men is focused and sharp, and it tells you all you need to know. No more of that talk.

You start smelling the others in some parts of the city, and immediately draw back when it happens. When you tell Simon as much, that you’re being careful after his and John’s advice, he smiles a full smile, his canines sharply white, his hand coming to pat your head.

In this idyllic moment of your life, when things aren’t just fine but great– a small sense of community again, a stable good job, and a budding link–

Your heat comes.

It’s not your first. Back then, you had your options. Taking care of each other was the norm. But lately, as stressed as you’ve been, you’d forgotten that this, too, is part of your nature. And you didn’t prepare accurately– including having some relief the days before the actual heat comes. Before you pass out, you have the sense to call sick at work. After that your finger hovers on Simon’s name, but you abandon the idea. He can’t always come to help you.

Hazily, you think back on the pills Simon gave to you. You ran out some weeks ago, but didn’t think about asking for more. After all, you’d lived for long without, and he couldn’t even tell the difference himself, as shown by his silence on the matter. Maybe he grew too dulled to your smell. 

Maybe he knew that they were finished. Maybe he did it on purpose.

You cough. The slick between your legs doesn’t have time to cool down before a new fresh wave comes, and you curse your animal side as you writhe on the bed. Through the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, you hear your door opening. Panicking, your eyes cross to watch the entrance, the tall, dark figure making its way inside with familiarity.

“Simon,” you pant, “what are you doing here?” You ask, voice rough, when you recognize him. How did he even open the door? You try to stand on your elbows, but fall back over your face in the pillow. You hear his footsteps coming closer and closer to you. He sits on your bed, hand coming to pet your hair, and you muffle a groan, fabric between your teeth.

“Y-you need to leave. I’m not well–”

“Shh,” he just says, still petting your hair. When you raise your head again and turn to look at him, he’s looking at you curiously. You swallow your saliva and try to keep your eyes straight, but it’s growing incredibly harder.

“Why didn’t you call me? I had to ask around…” He says, voice quiet and reproaching. You lean your head into his palm, hands covering your face.

“Didn’t want to bother you…” you whisper, eyes peeking from behind your fingers. “Did you bring the pills?”

He doesn't answer your question. When you’re about to ask again, you feel his body move, his chest coming to press against your back. His arm stirs, makes contact with his head, which then moves. You hear an inhale, his big chest rumbling.

Is… Is he smelling you?

“Simon… I’m really unwell, but I’ll be alright, so you can-” Your voice trembles, but you get interrupted. The tone of his voice is harsh enough to make you cry.

“No. I’m staying here. I know how to handle this,” he says, decisively, but his eyes soften when he sees your scared expression.

“Hey. It’s alright. You know me, right? And I know you. This is just what happens to our kind. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, hand holding your neck and face buried in your hair. 

And just like that, you surrender. 

He takes off your clothes calmly, with clear intent, lays them orderly on your chair when he’s done with each part. The moan that comes out of you when he takes off your pajama pants is almost vulgar. Before you turn your head in embarrassment, you see a flash of something else but determination in his eyes. An hunger, even.

“Come. All fours,” he orders, and you follow his words blindly. You’re in no state to oppose him truly, and anyway, this is what your body wants. And the mind is not far to follow. He guides you, rough hands on your waist and hips, and positions you the way he wants.

“Look at that,” he remarks, once he has the full view of your aroused cunt in his face. You mutter an offended remark in your elbow that turns into a yelp when he starts spreading your lips, examining you to his heart’s content. One of his fingers comes to brush at the edges of your hole, bringing some of the wetness lower, on your clit.

“Built for it,” he hisses, fiddling with it, your hips grinding against his finger with their own mind, chasing that limb numbing feeling. Once your moans are getting high enough for his judgment, he adds two fingers into your pussy, his reach far better than any you could have by yourself. You move in tandem, a wave of power that starts from him and crashes into you. He starts curling his fingers into you, his palm still grinding against your clit, that’s the moment you let go. You come with a muffled scream into the pillow, your back arched, your pussy trying desperately to milk his fingers. You fall prone, momentarily exhausted, and catch your breath for about ten seconds when you feel Simon’s arms encompassing your waist. 

“Up. C’mon now,” he says, and you let yourself be manhandled. His arm brushes against your stomach. Has… has his arm hair always been so long?

You hear rustling and movement behind you, but you’re still in the aftershocks of your orgasm that you just keep your eyes shut and enjoy the closeness with Simon. When your thigh comes into contact with something, though, your eyes open wide. You try to turn your head to look at his body, but he won’t let you, he just keeps your head firmly into the pillow. At least he shifts it a bit so that you can breathe with your mouth.

“Just enjoy this,” he says, a bit peeved, but with an undertone of shame. What could he possibly be ashamed of, when he’s helped you so much? 

“Thank you, Simon,” you let out breathlessly, and he groans, the sound reverberating through your whole body. The blunt head of his cock breaches inside, finds a clear way from your previous orgasm and the hormones. He starts fucking you with with a punishing rhythm, the snap of his abs against your ass resounding in the room, your slick rendering his shoves almost liquid. Whenever you try to shift a bit you’re hurriedly moved back against him, no chance of moving somewhere else. His mouth moves against your ear, muttering something intelligible, more groan than speech. More animal than human. The sounds, the smell of Simon, the warm air, it’s all getting to your head, filling it with foam. When you start moving back against him, a second climax descending upon you, his thrusts become more sloppy, and you feel his legs tensing, shifting in preparation.

“Take it all now,” he grunts out, and you feel a rush of heat by your entrance, and– and– 

With a snarl, long teeth bite into the meat of your shoulder, breaking skin. You moan in pain and pleasure both, the heading sensation going straight to your pussy, a trickle of blood running down your flushed breasts and on the mattress. You feel twitching and an unmistakable wet sensation inside you, and the feeling is so overwhelming you try to twitch away from his imposing body but find yourself stuck to him. Simon retracts his maw from your shoulder and licks the wound he caused with long, careful swipes, an apology of his own. Once he’s satisfied with his care, his tongue licks the salty residues of your tears on your cheeks, leaving a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers huskily, just as you pass out.

When you wake up again, to the warm and damp touch of a towel, you whimper in pain. The movement stops then, and you open your eyes to Simon pondering what to do next, his hands on his hips. You cough out a laugh at the sight in front of you. When he sees you are awake, Simon’s mouth quirks down in mock scorn, but you read the implicit laugh behind his lips. He bandages your wound and you fall asleep again, worn out by your vulnerable state.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a wolf?” You break the silence later, leaning on your good side while he spoons you from behind. His sharp nails brush against the skin of your stomach.

“You never asked.” He says, almost bored, but it’s a farce, and you both know it. You roll your eyes, grateful he can’t see you. There’s probably an ancient taboo regarding shifters of different species being together, but then again, you hold the very human belief that you can do what you want as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else.

After all, being in the middle between animals and humans means you always have two ways to approach things.

taglist: @rafaelacallinybbay

[duskier]

cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)

Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)

He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.

It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.

Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.

...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.

If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.

He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.

"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."

Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.

Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.

He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.

[weaselle]

Let's dream. These are the things i think should be provided to the public for free

Food Centers:

it's not fancy and there's not a high variety, heck it's basically just rice, beans, some fruit juice, and the vegetable of the month, but you can go to any food center and get, for free, the baseline nutrition you need for staying alive and healthy. This food is available, for free, in any amount, in both raw and cooked forms, as Food Centers are both storage and cooking facilities. Some diet alternatives are made available for those with, for example, allergies or food related mental issues, tho this may require registering with whatever Food Center you plan on visiting ahead of time. And of course baby formula, baby food, and clean water.

Public Hospitals:

And yes this includes ALL medical treatments physical or mental. Any person, at any time, for any reason, can walk into a Public Hospital and receive the best medical care available. No paperwork (i mean they do keep your medical records on file etc but there is no paperwork for the patient to fill out). No hoops, no proving anything, no barriers to entry, nothing -- you enter a hospital, you receive medical care, period. Medical transport and mobile medical staff available as needed. Unlike with food, there is no "free tier" because anything less than the best medical treatment available is a crime against humanity. Possibly publicly available bathing facilities attached.

Public Housing:

Government built apartment complexes, first come first served, if it's empty you can move in. All you have to do is register, so that you don't go on a trip and have people move in because the place seemed empty. Probably some regulations like you can't register for more than one permanent residence, maximum of bedrooms equal to the number of people registered plus one, but you can have a temporary second apartment on a weekly basis, subject to availability - so like, you can go on a trip for a week, and then extend the trip by a week, and then maybe you want to extend a third week and you get told sorry there are now people waiting for a permanent residence in this area, temp residence at this location is no longer available until new housing units are completed. Something like that.

Information.

This is basically free school (through college) but i call it Information because I believe internet access and libraries, and press/public broadcasting also belong on this list

Clothing:

It isn't high fashion, it might be little more than socks, shoes, blankets, and government issued jumpsuits in hot and cold weather variants, but nobody is going to be left without clothing if they need it. Probably a small distribution center attached to each Food Center. People often forget about this one, but it's important.

Public Transportation:

what it says on the tin. Comprehensive, networked, including something like a (free) taxi program attached to train depots servicing rural areas that lack infrastructure or population density for even busses (so like, there might not be a train station in Lewistown Montana, but you can still get transported to Billings and catch a train)

BUT HOW WILL WE PROVIDE / PAY FOR THESE THINGS?

glad you asked

first of all there will still be taxes, because there will still be jobs, because almost nobody is going to want to wear the government issued jumpsuits and eat nothing but rice and beans. These things will keep you alive and healthy, but almost everyone is going to want their favorite foods and to be dressed fashionably, etc etc etc. You'll have hobbies you want to pay for, you'll have special dates you want to go on, people will want to live in their dream home... humanity is going to WANT THINGS, and so there will still be work and pay and money and taxes. There will even still be rich people and poor people if economic ladders are your kink, it's just now nobody will ever die of being poor. And if this is what we're getting, i do not care if the taxes are at like 65%, as long as the wealthy and the corporations are paying it too, but let's try to get it done for 50% for easy math. And we don't have to do all that complicated shit about this person should only pay less than that because they are poor or whatever, because a person could have zero money and still be basically ok. Just. 50% across the board.

BUT ALSO. We have resources. Do you know who owns all the offshore oil? Do you know who owns all the national forests that get logged for wood? We do. It's pubic property that our government leases to private companies to sell us back our own stuff. So maybe we should handle our resources differently.

AND. Labor. I've written about this before, but, i say instead of the unending argument about military spending, we increase the military budget, but we use them as a public work force here at home. Only about 10% of the US military is combat personnel. The other 90ish percent have jobs like Forklift Operator, Computer Engineer, Doctor, Mechanic, etc. So let them have some more funding, and let's get them building our government housing and staffing our Food Centers etc.

And sure, it probably wouldn't work perfectly, it would need constant management and innovation to continue to function. But it's not like our current system is working very well, right? Current system sucks so much that in Chicago alone every year senior citizens die because they have to choose between freezing or paying for their medicine. So we don't really have anything to lose. I mean most of us don't anyway. Might take some pitchforks and torches to convince the corporate oligarchy, the political puppets and their billionaire puppeteers.

oh, and

[pandorascripts]

I Bet You Think About Me

pairing: wednesday x reader

cw: angst, cheating, tyler galpin.

note: you should know that I made morticia and gomez the mean rich type of people to fit this.

summary: catering your ex-girlfriend’s wedding was certainly not what you wanted to do, but it proves to be fruitful as you get to say goodbye— and taunt her.

song: I Bet You Think About Me (feat. Chris Stapleton) (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift ;).

proof read like once. I’m finding a lot of mistakes because I’m tired LMAO.

SEND IN REQUESTS BASED ON TS SONGS!

:—-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:

It had been exactly three months since Wednesday had called off your relationship. She claimed you were too childish and that you were just too different from her— that you couldn’t fit into her world. Looking back on it now you can only laugh, the true reason why Wednesday broke up with you was because she was too scared of the consequences.

Despite what she claims and what others believe, Wednesday does care about what her family thinks. And her family, the richest and most powerful people in all of New York, had high expectations in who she would date. They certainly didn’t think (or even know) that Wednesday wanted to date someone below her status, below her age for that mater. Nine years wasn’t too bad, but her parents wanted Wednesday to be nine years younger than her rich, male lover. Unfortunately you didn’t fit any boxes where it mattered. 

But as you’re catering her wedding, watching Wednesday dance with her new husband, you really can’t help but chuckle. Wednesday’s been staring at you for the entire event, and you know damn well she’s been thinking about you. You see it in the way she eyes your work attire, — a tight, clad semi-formal suit— and in the way she frowns the moment her husband draws her attention away from you. It’s obvious. 

Buts it’s only until the service is almost over that she approaches you. 

“Hi.”

You look down to the glasses you’d been cleaning previously, trying to help out your friend with his own job. “Mrs. Galpin, is it?”

Wednesday scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “Yeah, it is now.”

You nod, wiping a white cloth against the crystal glass of the cup. It’s almost as thick as the tension between you two. 

“Look, I want to tell you that I’ve moved on, and that I think it’s really immature of you to show up here.”

Your eyes widen drastically as you stare at Wednesday and her audacity. Grabbing her by the wrist, you drag her into the nearest storage closet so you can scream at her. She doesn’t stop you because she wont dare to make a scene with her filthy-rich family here. Her wrist in your hand brings up dead memories, memories long buried under sadness and anger. 

When the door clicks shut, you finally turn around to yell at her. “I’m doing my job, Wednesday. I didn’t have a choice because unlike you I can’t just wait until my trust fund opens. As you’ve made very, very, very, clear, I don’t have one!”

Wednesday rolls her eyes, her fingers adjusting the hem of her dress. “Just don’t cause anything. You and I both know that you were always dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic? You got engaged a week after we broke up to please your parents.”

“We were never going to work out! I like him! It wasn’t for my parents.”

“I don’t have to be one of your many shrinks to know you’ll never be happy with him. In fact,” you step closer to Wednesday, rage clouding the thoughts telling you to leave it be, “I bet you think about me.

“You’re out here marrying rich, handsome guys and trying to chase a status your parents want you to have, but I bet you’ve never felt so locked up in your life.”

Wednesday shudders, her cold gaze darting around your face.

“Why’s that?” she asks, still trying to act like she’s in power.

“Because you never felt more free than when you were with me.”

Wednesday gulps, her head whipping to the storage closet as she tries to not look at you. She fails, and proves your point beautifully. You shake your head, disbelief and disappointment the only thing you feel.

“Goodbye, Wednesday. Enjoy the wedding and let me do my job peacefully.”

Your hand retreats from the wall behind her, when they got there you can’t remember, and you turn around. Wednesdays hands reach out to grab your face before you have enough time to register what’s happening. 

Her lips are still just as soft as they were that night she left you. Her kisses are still sweet and passionate, always expressing what she can’t say through words. You sigh, forgetting about the wedding, about her parents, and about her husband waiting for another dance just beyond that door. 

It doesn’t take long until your fingers thread themselves in her dress and then you remember all of those things and more. You remember why she dumped you— why you have to let her go. You pull away harshly, taking a few quick steps back and sprint out the door. Wednesday doesn’t bother chasing after you. 

You run to your friend James, alerting him of your well-earned break that you decide to take. He nods, waving you off as you dart out of the venue. The early spring snow sets against the slush and you sigh. The cold grounds you, remembering the night three months prior. 

You shift on Wednesdays lap, laying your head on her shoulder. She’s reading in peace, a book her friend recommended, you recall. Her friend had claimed it had changed his view on life, and had told Wednesday it would do wonders for her. She was only reading it to poke fun at it. 

The movie in the background was long forgotten by you, your eyes instead lining her jawline and the soft curve of her nose. 

“Wednesday.”

“Yes?” she asks, flipping the page over. She doesn’t look at you, or even stop reading her book. 

You’ve been noticing this for the past two weeks now, her attention has been dwindling. Wednesday’s become more stressed and angry. Fights have been more frequent, at least two every other day. It’s always over minuscule stuff too, like how you dress, where you work, how Wednesday doesn’t like the way you hold your fork, or the way you laugh like a kid. You told her maybe it’s because you are one. After all, you’re twenty two and she’s thirty-one. Wednesday ignored you for hours that day. 

“Will you put the book down?”

“Why?” Again, no eye contact. 

“Because I want to have a real conversation.”

“We are.”

You scoff, swinging your feet off of her thighs and stand up, the book getting knocked to the floor. You don’t apologize despite her shouts, instead you grab your keys and shrug on your coat. 

“Where are you going?” she demands, hands trying to grab the keys out of your pocket. 

You swat her away and tie your shoelaces. “For a walk.”

“The hell you are! It’s eleven at night and December, it’s too late and too cold.”

You ignore her again, swinging the door open and skipping outside. Wednesday doesn’t follow you, but you don’t need to look back to know that. The door slamming tells you enough. 

That night when you got home, a clear head and a fresh apology with you, Wednesday called you childish. She told you that dating you was a mistake, that meeting you was one. And then her bag of belongings— you remember frowning over the fact that she only had an unpacked bag of stuff— was thrown into her corvette. 

It didn’t matter how much you clung to her, begging that she didn’t do this, she shrugged you off and left without so much as a glance back.

When your five minute break was over, you walked back into the wedding and continued working. Wednesday wasn’t anywhere to be seen for the rest of the night.

Maybe it wasn’t the goodbye you wanted, but it sure was a loud one. All you can hope is that Wednesday is tormented by what you once had, because at least you can certainly bet she thinks about you. 

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 10: An Act of Trust

*Genre: Mafia, Angst, Slow burn, eventual smut

*Warnings: Mentions of drugs, language, anxiety

Authors Note: How has it been so long? It's been a bit of a tough time but I have returned to my happy place. I hope you enjoy this look into the Magic Shop. I copy and paste the Tag List, so for those who no longer wish to be in it, I completely understand. Please just message me and I'll remove you. For any new interested readers who would like to be apart of the Tag List, same thing. Please just be patient with me. I'm on new any depressants and will be trying my very best to keep up with this. No matter what, I will never stop this fic and I will try my best to make any wait worth it. Feel free to drop a like, comment, or anything. Also posted on AO3 under the same name, Enjoy!

Tag list: Tag list: @lolalalooo, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine,  @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22, @weiinihao, @hemmofluke, @rainbow-zebra-unicorns, @joyfullyobsessed-blog, @elvencantation, @thefreddieman, @whateveritis616, @crewzie-chan, @wyomingphantom, @killbillv1, @kyrah-williams, @utterlynutters, @ot7jellostan, @zahraaelamira, @shesaysweirdthings, @toriluvsfics, @emu007, @zae007live​

Chapter 10: An Act of Trust.

            This is incredible, you found yourself repeating as you followed Taehyung through the Magic Shop.

            The mansion was the prime example of the phrase ‘never judge a book by its cover’. Though, if you were being completely honest, Bangtan had shown many examples of that phrase the more you were around them. Where the outside of the Magic Shop was foreboding, broken, and cold, the inside was warm, modern, and inviting. And so well maintained. For a group of young men, the place was immaculate. You thought back to when Jin and Jungkook had cleaned your apartment on the first night and decided that you really shouldn’t be surprised. As you looked about the passing rooms, they were beautifully decorated in a modern style that really complimented everyone and the structure.

            Taehyung had, first, led you down the spiral staircase under the front foyer into what you assumed were the old service areas. Now, it was an expansive garage lined with a vast variety of vehicles. You recognized the truck that Jin had driven you home in, the silver sports car that Taehyung had picked you up in that first day, and the town car that you had just been in. Heuning Kai waved at the two of you from his place by the town car, polishing it to look as new. You looked down the rows in awe. As you took in the fleet of cars, you started to understand that you had vastly underestimated how much money Bangtan must have had. But were all of these bought or were they spoils of the job? Or were some of them stolen? You were really trying not to think so poorly of your hosts, but could it really be helped?

            “Nice, huh?” Taehyung crossed his arms with pride as he leaned against a very nice looking black two-door car. He nodded over towards the familiar pickup truck. “That was the first truck we bought back in the early days. We lived off of cheap ramen and stolen veggies, but it was worth it. Jin put a lot of hardware into it over the years. He stayed up a lot of nights reading mechanic books to make it work for us. Now we’re able to hire mechanics who will follow whatever design and dream he can think up to help us. Like bulletproof glass and exteriors, homing beacons, storage and seats that fold down so we can use the space for anything. They, even, have this feature that sends an alert to all of our phones if the vehicle’s ever in an accident so we can get to each other.”

            “I suppose Jin thought of everything, didn’t he?”

            “Yeah,” Taehyung smiled a huge boxy grin. “Jin-hyung is all about keeping us safe. He’s like the mom of our family. He’s always taken such good care of us.”

            As your eyes roamed across the row of vehicles, your eyes caught sight of a sleek, black motorcycle in the farthest corner of the garage. You had always wanted to ride on one ever since one of Amber’s friends came by the hospital to show his new one off. But you had always been too scared to ask to ride along; working in the ER would do that to a person.

            “Like that? That’s Jungkookie’s, He always wanted one. And Yoongi-hyung and Jiminie bought it for him as a graduation present to encourage him to finish school. He was so excited when he went to go pick it out. It’s his favorite thing. Seems like you like it too. I’m sure if you ask him, he’d take you on a ride. As long as he doesn’t combust from shyness. I’d suggest you wait until you’ve been around him more before you ask him.”

            “Oh no,” you said, turning back towards Tae. “I don’t think that would be very smart. Do you know how many cases in my ER are from motorcycle accidents? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You were sure by the look on Taehyung’s face that he could hear the disappointment in your tone as you tried to fool yourself.

            He smiled. “You know that is the same argument that Jin-hyung said when it was brought home. But I know I have a picture of them riding on it together.”

            Taehyung, then, led you out of the garage. As you ascended the spiral stairs back into the front foyer, you were taken down the hallway where Namjoon had appeared towards the kitchen. The hallway was lined with what looked like framed family portraits of Bangtan throughout the years. There were some of them all together dressed all nice, and a few of them in random units posed in fun ways. It was interesting to see how they grew and changed over the years. But it was, also, sad to see how young they were. You paused in front of what appeared to be their first family photo. Where the other photos were in suits or business casual attire, their first picture looked as if they had watched too many hip-hop music videos. Dressed in fake basketball jerseys and hats, or in layered phony designer shirts and too much eyeliner, they looks so young and inexperienced. You almost didn’t recognize Namjoon with his crazy hair and dark glasses, or Jimin with his very tanned skin and shaggy black hair. And Jungkook looked like he had barely started puberty with his round doe-eyes. It really made you wonder what could cause such young kids to turn to gang life. Yoongi and Namjoon you understood since Yoongi had explained his side to you. But were all their stories the same? You had to figure out how to ask them.

       The kitchen looked like it belonged to a showroom with top-of-the-line appliances set against stunning marble counter tops. You imagined this is what a world class chef would want. It was beyond clean and spacious with a large capacity refrigerator and freezer, a fully stocked wine cabinet that almost reached the ceiling, a huge stove and dual ovens, and a large island that could be used for anything. Off the main part, set against a large set of windows that overlooked a courtyard in the middle of the Magic Shop, was a cozy breakfast nook and a fully stocked coffee bar that could meet the needs of the pickiest of coffee drinkers. There were a few different machines for different types of coffee, syrups, stirrers, and different sugars. The enticing smell of whatever Namjoon had made still permeated the room.

            The only thing that was missing was the staff to man such a space. Perhaps they had the morning off?

            Taehyung opened up the fully stocked cabinets, pantry, and fridge to show off their contents and told you to that you would help yourself to anything whenever you wanted.

            “We always make extra so you can have whatever. Or, if you would rather cook something for yourself, by all means. But since one of us will be with you, we may offer to do it.”

            “You all cook?” You remembered the amount of food Jin had ordered the first night for you and figured that’s what they did regularly.

            “Some of us do,” he remarked with a shrug. “Namjoon-hyung can only really make coffee. And my skills are a bit limited. But the others are really good at it. We always leave leftovers if we are out late on missions for the other. We try to have family dinner when we are all together. And we talked about letting you come too, since you’ll be here for a while. If you want, that is. But trust me, you’re gonna want to.”

            “So, you make your own food? I would expect a place like this would come with a fleet of cooks since you all would be…busy.”

            Taehyung laughed. “You would think so. But we are pretty self-sufficient. Other than our hired Army, we don’t really have a staff full time. I mean, there are two mechanics that come to tune up the cars every month, a couple ladies who come in to do a deep clean every three months or so, and Jin brings in a couple helpers once in a while when he’s stuck in whatever he’s working on. But that’s only a very few very trusted people. They’re all older locals though who we’ve helped over the years, so we know they won’t betray us. It’s just safer if we keep it low. When we bring in new people, it’s blind like how we did with you. Not that we don’t trust you. I mean…” Taehyung started trying to figure out how to better explain it.

            “It’s alright. I understand. I am a stranger to you guys. Despite how many card games I’ve beat you at or coffee dates you take me on.” You smiled as your little joke seemed to ease the tension. “It makes sense really. It’s better to be cautious. If anything happens to me, I wouldn’t be able to say anything even if I could.”

            “Hey,” Tae brought his hand to your shoulder, face very serious, “nothing is going to hurt you here. I trust you. Call it my superpower, but I can read people really well. All the years on the street do that to a person. You are a good person. Otherwise, we would have blindfolded you before you stepped out of the car. Everyone agreed to welcome you in our home not just because of all you’ve done for Hyung. We could have just set you up in a safe house if I thought you were up to something.”

            You were sure he was being genuine with you. He did seem like he was going very beyond the bare minimum he needed to do had it been some other person. You knew he was trying to make you feel safe and comfortable in this whole situation. They were doing so much for you, you just needed to allow yourself to relax and not think about all the other things. You tried to ignore the dark cloud that kept coming up the second you started to forget their profession and focus on the person.

            From the kitchen, you were lead to the outside courtyard. It must have been intended to be a beautiful event space in its conception. There were moss covered statues, an elegant fountain surrounded by ivy covered iron benches, and beautiful plants that brought so much color to the space. Above, there was a façade that looked like a tapered roof covered in ripped tarps that Tae explained let in a lot of light and rain but kept anyone or thing from seeing inside. Bangtan had really thought of everything to keep the Magic Shop secret. Across the courtyard and through another door, you were shown an impressive gym with an attached studio that Taehyung explained was used for combat training, dance practice, or anything they wanted. Next to that was a shower, steam room, and a large indoor swimming pool. All of which was fair game for you to use if you wanted to.

            After that, the excited man showed you what he deemed ‘the living space’. Up the stairs to the second floor, there was a massive formal dining room, a small library that you really wanted to explore, a small infirmary, a game room, and some office used for whatever they wanted to work on privately. He pointed to another staircase and mentioned that some of their bedrooms were up on the third floor and so were Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s personal workspaces. Jin’s workspace was in the basement, while Jungkook’s room and personal gaming room was on the attic floor with Taehyung’s art studio. There was so much space in this house that you began to wonder if there was a map so you wouldn’t get lost. Before you could try to remember how to get back to the last room, you found yourself in an expansive living room. You figured this may be where you’d be spending a majority of your time. The room was open design with a massive L-shaped couch that seemed like it could fit more than seven, sleek coffee tables, two elegant armchairs with oversized ottomans, and a few beanbag chairs stacked in a corner. Mounted to the wall was a huge flat screen television and on either side of it where towering shelves full of movies, tv series, music, and video games to last a lifetime. There were multiple gaming consoles stacked neatly on top. And on the far wall, there was a small mini fridge, a cupboard with snacks, and a small bar. It was homely and comfortable.

            “We spend a lot of our down time together in here,” Taehyung said, smiling at your awed expression. “It’s probably one of my favorite rooms, besides my bedroom.”

            “I can see why. It has pretty much everything in here. It’s bigger than my apartment. Well, this house is so large it’s a wonder how you can find anyone in here. I still haven’t seen Jimin, Jungkook, or Jin. I feel like I could walk right past them in here and never know it.”

            “Well, Jin is on the basement level working on something. We won’t need to go down there. There is nothing there that’d interest you. Honestly, it’s a bit more confusing to get down there anyway so just try to stay on the first two floors. But. he’ll come up for lunch in a while. Since I didn’t see Jungkook in here or the gym, my guess is that he is probably still in his room. He was up late last night playing video games and is most likely still sleeping. But if ever in doubt, always start looking for him in the gym or where his games are. As for Jimin, I’m not sure where he is. He was excited for you to come to the Magic Shop. I thought he would meet us in the front or outside. That was his plan anyway. Something might have come up. I’m sure we’ll see him at lunch. Oh yeah, there’s someone else I want you to meet. Now, where is he?”

            Suddenly, while you were distracted by some of the framed, less staged photos on the wall, something small and fuzzy ran across your foot. You shrieked and it took everything in your body to keep from kicking at whatever it was as you fell back into one of the armchairs. Taehyung let out a loud laugh that filled the space and had him holding his sides.

            “Tannie! There’s my baby boy.” You turned over the chair to watch him stoop over and pick up a small black and brown Pomeranian puppy. The puppy yipped happily and gave his owner sloppy kisses that Tae returned. “I was wondering where you had gotten off too. Such a silly boy. You shouldn’t scare our guest like that. She’s a nice girl, the one I told you about. Say you’re sorry.”          

            The puppy let out a big yawn. You weren’t sure if that was the apology Taehyung was expecting.

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that. I’ve been a bit jumpier than usual. I wasn’t expecting such a tiny thing to come running at me. You guys never mentioned that you had a dog.”

            “I didn’t? That doesn’t sound like me. I could have sworn I had talked about him a few times back in the hospital.” If you were honest, he might have. But there were plenty of times when you were fighting your many battles about trusting them that you tuned out most of the conversations. “This is Yeontan. He’s only eight months old. You don’t mind dogs, do you?”

            “No, I like all animals. He’s very cute,” you pushed off from the chair and stepped a bit closer. When Taehyung held the small dog out to you, you reached over and lightly scratched him behind his fuzzy ear. Yeontan let out a happy noise and licked your hand. You laugh a bit. “He’s so sweet. But I’ll be honest. I would never have suspected someone like you to have such a tiny dog.”

            “Oh, sure. I get that. Jungkookie keeps saying we should get a Doberman as a guard dog. That would definitely fit our image better. But I could never replace Tannie. He’s all mine.” Taehyung hugged the puppy close, and it warmed your heart. “I’ve always wanted a little dog ever since I was a kid. But a bad home life made it difficult. But all the guys pulled together and helped me get this little guy as a present. And I sold a few pieces in order to save up for classes so I could better take care of him. I wanted to be the best owner for him.”

            The way that Taehyung spoke and interacted with the dog was such a juxtaposition to the wicked mafia persona you had figured hid beneath. It was so cute that you could only wonder if someone would ever treat you with the same amount of affection. Had you not known about that side of his life, you’d swear he was just this lovable guy with a large heart. Though, something he had said gave you pause.

            “Save up? I feel like you all have more money than I can even imagine. I mean,” you made a grand gesture to the room, “why would you need to save up for anything?”

            “I’m sure it seems that way. Sure, we’re pretty well off. But when we first started, we were so poor, we didn’t have enough money to eat. We stole from the gas station just to eat once a day. And when we started out, we were nobodies, so it wasn’t like we were making anything. Whatever we did earn from gang activities went to important things like medicine and renting a room for the night, so we didn’t have to sleep on the street. Then, it went towards necessities, like weapons for protection or clothes so we wouldn’t freeze in the winter. Or bail when we got caught by the police. So, to ensure we would be able to make it and not be picked off by the other gangs, we got day jobs. Namjoon worked the gas station we stole from to make it up to the old man who owned it, Yoongi-hyung was a delivery boy, and Hobi-hyung and Jimin worked at a dance studio. Kookie and I found ways to help. The only one who had any money was Jin-hyung. His family was loaded. When I first met Jin-hyung, before I met the others, he was a student, and I was a street kid just trying not to go home. I saw him at a bus stop I used to tag all the time. He said my work was cool and just like a puppy, I started hanging around him. He fed me and even tried to teach me what he was learning since I dropped out. Then we met the others and Jin-hyung was using his money to help us. But when his father learned who he was hanging around, he cut him off. Until he was able to black mail his father.”

            “But,” Taehyung continued, seeing how off topic he was getting, “the point was, we always had other ways to get money that weren’t gang related. Even now, as big as we are, we still have little side jobs we do. It breaks up the monotony and gives us a little bit of an escape. What we earn from gang activities belongs to Bangtan; the upkeep of the house, paying Army, hospital bills, and our equipment. Anything we earn from our side hustle is ours for our own pleasure. That dance studio that Jimin and Hobi-hyung worked at, they now own. Jungkookie competes in videogame competitions and films himself playing games on the internet. Jin continues his family business, without his actual family. And Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung did music underground back in the day before all the gang stuff, and they still do. They write and produce demos and sell them. You’ve probably heard a few of their stuff. And we all help them sometimes. We joke that if we weren’t in this line of work, we’d probably be a world-renowned band. Funny huh?”

            Wow, you thought as you tried to process what he had just told you. There is so much more to these guys than I thought. How can they be this down to earth?

            “And what do you do?”

            “I told you that I used to be a street artist, right? Nothing too special; just tagging and doing funny graffiti. But the others really inspired me to keep going. Hell, Namjoon got arrested with me when I was attempting to improve some offensive street art someone left outside one of our favorite places just because he wanted to see me improve myself. Now, I’ve moved to a bunch of different mediums; I’ve tried charcoal, photography, drawing, and painting. I took all of those pictures,” he said pointing to the walls. “It’s pretty easy to find a muse when you have a great support system. Here let me show you some of my pieces.” He took your hand and led you out of the living room with a bounce in his step.

            He took you up the stairs and to his art room. You were fairly positive that this was not supposed to be part of the tour since this was where their more private spaces were. But the look on Tae’s face when he showed you his art room was enough to show you that he was very excited to show off his work to you. The room had hardwood floors and walls covered with different sizes of framed pictures of different famous artists that he admired. The room was loaded with supplies like stacks of canvases, drawing supplies and paints, different cameras, and drop clothes to protect the floor. There was a small couch and chairs that you recognized from some of the family portraits. He went over to a desk and grabbed a book. It was labeled Vante, which you remember used to be his street artist name before he shortened it to V for his gang related work. He flipped through the book and handed it to you when he found what he was looking for. There were pictures of different art pieces he had made. Each page had photos of the progression and the finished product with handwritten notes next to it as to when it was sold and for how much. The numbers made your eyes widen. There were things that you would expect to see in a museum. You were speech-less.

            He grabbed your hand once again and led you out of the studio and into the hallway. There were some more pieces hanging throughout the hallways, those he wouldn’t part with. There was one that was so breathtaking; it was a black and gray background, with a single light source from up center. In the center of the spotlight was a dancer clad in white, whose body was carved through shadows and face shown pale in the light, eyes closed in a serene way as if he was lost in the music you couldn’t hear. His arm was extended up to the light like a ballet dancer, so graceful. His hair, a steely blue, and the gathering shadows accentuate his sharp yet delicate features. And the more you looked at it, the more you began to realize that you had seen this person before.

            It was Jimin.

            As you were led to more art pieces, you started to realize that Taehyung had used Bangtan in many of them. They were breath taking. Not only were they all so good-looking, but the way Taehyung painted or photographed them made them look otherworldly. Near the end of a staircase that would lead to the top floor back to the floor some of their bedrooms could be found on, you found yourself stopped in front of what you came to realize was your favorite. It was a black and white photo made to look like a painting. There were seven people in front of a white background that looked like hands reaching out for each other. Five of the seven were leaning on each other, hunched over in a dramatic way. In the center were the final two, both with their arm up, one reaching for the sky and the other grasping the first wrist afraid to slip and let go. It was so simple yet complex, so artistic. You weren’t sure how long you were staring at it until Taehyung’s voice cut through your thoughts.

            “I was commissioned to make this for someone. But when it was done, I couldn’t part with it. The others loved it too. They hated that I was supposed to sell it to someone who wouldn’t understand it. So, Yoongi-hyung paid the commissioner for it, three times what he was going to pay me for it. Said he didn’t care how much the man wanted for it. It meant so much to us that it was priceless. Yoongi-hyung says it’s his favorite. I think it’s yours too.”

            “It’s so beautiful. You are truly an amazing artist.”

            “I have some great muses.”

            Taehyung and you stood there in silence a bit more before the silence was broken by someone coming out of one of the rooms. It was Hoseok. He looked a bit disheveled and breathless as if he had just run a mile, hair no longer sleek and tidy. He closed the door softly and turned with a grin, licking his lips in some sort of victory. He clapped his hands together and started down the hall with a hop in his step.

            He froze when he saw the two of you looking at him. “Umm...” he started nervously, “what are you two doing up here?”

            Oh right, I’m probably not meant to be up here. That’s why he’s confused. You turned your eyes back to the floor and your shoulders started to hunch. You didn’t want to intrude on their space. You were just following Taehyung and thought it was okay. But it would seem like not everyone was alright with his idea.

            Tae noticed the change in your posture and was having none of that, especially after he worked so hard to get you out of your shell to begin with. “I told you I was going to show her around the house. I was showing Y/N some of my artwork in my studio and figured I would show off the good ones. She really likes this one. I can’t say I blame her.”

            Hobi looked over at the painting. “Oh yeah, it is pretty. But don’t you have a copy of it in your phone you could have shown her? I thought we were just gonna keep it to the ground floors until Namjoon-.”

            “I’m sorry,” you said, arms wrapping around yourself in a nervous way. “I’m not trying to intrude. I wouldn’t have come up here unless Taehyung had brought me.”

            Hoseok noticed the way your hand clenched at your clothes and how you didn’t look at him in the face. And suddenly, he felt bad. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised. We normally don’t have people up here. I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t care if you come up here. Just as long as you don’t go into any rooms without permission.”

            “Well, of course she won’t, hyung. You see how nervous she is just at the thought of intruding. I just didn’t want her sitting in one room all day. Jeez, she’ll probably be hanging on the first two floors anyways. That’s where all the fun is.”

            Hobi threw his hands up in defeat. “Alright, Taehyungie, I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Y/N, I’m sorry. I was just surprised. It’s been a long morning.” You nodded your head in confirmation.

            “Now to a better point. What were you doing?” Taehyung fixed his hyung with an accusing look and a smirk from behind you. As if I can’t guess.

            Hobi frowned back at Taehyung before pushing his hand through his hair to tidy himself back up. “I was making sure Hyung went to rest and not back to work. You know how Yoongi-hyung can be when he’s away from his screens. He took some convincing but he’s asleep now in his room. And I,” he fished a key from the pocket of his jeans, “stole the key to the Genius Lab so he won’t be tempted to sneak in and work. He should be out for a few hours. He may skip lunch for now, but I’ll make sure he eats before he needs to have his next dosage for you.” He smiled brightly at you. “So, what do you think of the Magic Shop?”

            “It’s incredible. You guys must have really worked hard to make it so beautiful.”

            “Yeah, it took a few years to get right. But it’s been such a great sanctuary for us. Tell you what, I need to go into town for a bit. I’m sure Taehyung has told you about the dance studio if he’s showing off all his side work. I need to pick up Jimin. He apparently was called in this morning to help with some minor things but he’s not feeling too well to drive back alone. But when I get home, I’ll show you something we’ve been working on with the kids in our class. It’s really fun. Then we can all have lunch.” Hobi moved past you two, making sure to greet Tannie with a series of silly voices and pets.

            Taehyung gave his hyung a confused look. “Is Minnie okay?”

            “Yeah, he’s fine. It’s just about the end of the month. I’m sure he’s gonna try to push it off again.” Realization dawned on Taehyung and he smacked his head for overlooking it with everything going on. You didn’t ask what they meant since it really wasn’t your business. Perhaps it was just some stress related thing that focused on his time of the month. You were sure with everything going on, Bangtan must push themselves too far and that leads to poor health. If Jimin was sick, you would be happy to check him out since you were there to be an in-home care. It would give you something else to focus on. The two said goodbye and Hobi dashed down the stairs.

            “Come on, let’s take Tannie out in the courtyard and I’ll show you some more of pieces on the way.

            You happily followed him, chasing after the positive feeling you had earlier. Your anxieties had been growing more difficult to contain. It must be because you weren’t taking your medicine. You were hoping Dr. Na would have been helpful in finding out what it was so you could get back on track. But with everything that happened back at the hospital, you hadn’t been so lucky. You didn’t even turn in the script he had given you for a mild antianxiety medication to take in its place because you were still so mad at him and hurt. And yet, here you were with the people who ruined him for you, acting like they were your friend. All these feelings and emotions were confusing.

            As you arrived back on the second floor and at the landing of the familiar staircase, you both could hear someone walking around, pacing by the sounds of it. At first, you thought it was Hoseok again, but Namjoon’s voice could be heard just a harsh whisper. Whoever he was talking to, he was not happy about something.

            “I can’t believe you are trying to blow me off right now. How is that fair? My family needs security. Didn’t you say it would only take you a few hours? I know I got the dates mixed up but that shouldn’t matter to you. If you haven’t noticed, my family’s been in a bit of chaos recently and you were supposed to help ease some of my tension with information. At least tell me what you do have. What do you mean you aren’t done with your initial check? Why isn’t it done? I’m sure you’re busy, but you owe me!” The closer the two of you got to the stairs, the more you could pick up the frustration in Namjoon’s voice. He walked from a hallway near the bottom of the stairs, phone raised to his ear. He had changed from his morning clothes into a pair of jeans and a blue sweater, something more presentable. He didn’t seem aware of the two of you, so engrossed with his conversation. His eyes were narrow behind his glasses. He was agitated in a way you hadn’t seen since he saved you from Choi the first time. And you were not a fan of seeing him angry. “You said you’d come today and now you’re flaking out on me when I need you? That’s really great, Jackson. No, I am not overreacting. I trusted my gut to a point, but I need hard facts here. I needed them yesterday. Just go with it? Jackson, they’re in my house now, and you’re telling me to go with it?! No, two days is not okay! Don’t make me chase you down, you son of a bitch.” He let out a growl that didn’t fit with his current image. Taehyung didn’t like how mad his leader was getting. The younger knew full well what Namjoon was so angry about and he wished he hadn’t used a flighty character like Jackson to do something Tae could have easily done. But he knew that Namjoon needed an outsider’s opinion. “Fucking fine, how long? You better be here in two days or so help me…,” he let the person on the other end of the phone fill in the blank before he ended the call with a huff.

            Taehyung took the opportunity to clear his throat to announce your presence, which startled Joon more than he would have liked. It took him a second before he let his emotions slip back behind the mask of a calm leader you had come to expect. You were aware that Tae was standing closer to you than before, like he was securing your place next to him.

            “Everything ok, hyung?”

            “Yeah, sorry, didn’t see you there. How much did you hear?”

            “Just you getting mad. But don’t worry, it’s all good.” You gather that Taehyung knew exactly what Namjoon was wanting from this Jackson person but didn’t want to explain it to you. He grabbed your hand with his free one and pulled you down the stairs. “Y/N got to meet Tannie. We know how much he doesn’t like new people and, guess what, he likes her. How great is that? He never likes people other than you guys so quickly. He must know she’s a good person.”

            You weren’t sure what else that was supposed mean, but it made the wheels in Namjoon’s head start to turn. Was that conversation about you? Did he not trust you in his home? Then why had they discussed bringing you here? He had hesitated back when Taehyung had mentioned showing you around the house. You knew they wanted to be careful, but wasn’t it their idea to bring you in? Why would he be so concerned now? You remember that he was supposed to talk to you about it before bringing you here but had forgotten. Was it more than just easing you into this that he wanted to talk about? Maybe this was a mistake? Or were you just overthinking things again?

            “Well, I’m taking Y/N to the courtyard. Don’t let Jackson mess you up. You’re smarter than him anyways. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            You started to follow Taehyung back down the hall. As you passed, you could tell that Namjoon was struggling with something. If it was about you, you wanted to tell him that you would do whatever made them more comfortable, even if that meant staying in one place like you wanted to with Hoseok. But Taehyung took your hand again and gave it a squeeze, like he knew you were overthinking things again. “Wait a second,” Namjoon said, voice sounding like he had come to a firm decision.

            The two of you stopped and looked back at Bangtan’s leader. He took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. And I mean it when I say welcome to our home. This is a bit new for us but considering the circumstances, this is the best option. Jin and I had been talking before about what happens when you come here, and both agree that we want you to be comfortable and not worried about anything. So, that being said, we came to an agreement about something very important. And I’ll let you decide what happens here. I know you said you want us to keep the darker side of our work away from you, and we have tried to respect that as much as possible. Being in our home may make that a bit more challenging. But we are still willing to do that if you want us to. But if you want, this may make being here a whole lot easier and may clear up some of those hesitations about us you may have,”

            You were willing to listen to what he had to say. “What is it?”

            “Yeah, hyung,” Taehyung said, tentatively, unsure of where this was going. “What do you mean? I don’t think we’ve talked about whatever this is.”

            “We haven’t Tae. But Jin-hyung and I talked about it before and based on some gut feelings, this may be for the best for everyone. But it ultimately falls on Y/N to decide. Jin would like to say ‘hello’ to you. He’s in his lab.”

            “Lab?” You had heard them mention a lab many times but you didn’t think that’s what it was. But by the way that Taehyung reacted to and, and how he had mentioned how you wouldn’t want to go down there, made you realize this was more than that.

            “Namjoon-hyung, are you sure about that?”

            He waved Taehyung off. “Like I said, this may make things for you much easier to understand and take some fear of us away. But if you prefer, we can just ignore it fully. But if you are willing, Jin-hyung would like to show you something in his lab. Jin-hyung does a lot of research and is working on something very important that may change how you see us. But it’s important. But if you don’t want to, I’ll understand, and we’ll keep pretending like nothing has changed. I give you control.”

            You hadn’t had much control over the life you could remember. Leaving your ex and choosing to help Bangtan was really the first taste of control you had, and it was still scary. Maybe being in the dark was a good option. But them allowing you to have a say really meant a lot to you. The fear of what you would find out started to be outweighed by the prospect of clarity. But what if they were wrong? Was it better to stay in the dark? You started to wring your hands together. You had already started to change your view of them since Yoongi had talked about his past and Taehyung had showed you things you would have never thought you’d come to see from them. Was that enough to trust that Namjoon was doing what he thought was best? Looking into his eyes, you saw only patience as he allowed you time to process all the thoughts and feelings.

            You took a deep breath. “I hope this goes the way you planned.”

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

            As you followed in step behind Namjoon and Taehyung, with Yeontan held comfortably in the younger’s hand, in a darkened tunnel, you were really hoping that this would go the way Namjoon had hoped. They had taken you from the front foyer where you had started and down the same hall that led to the kitchen. You had been so had been so distracted by the pictures on the wall that you hadn’t noticed that there was an arched door to the left just before you reached the end of the hall. Namjoon pressed his thumb against a scanner on the doorknob and the sound of multiple heavy locks snapped open echoed against the walls. The door swung open to a granite stairway that was dimly lit. Namjoon had explained that this used to take guests down to the old train platform before they renovated it. When they had first taken residence, it had been so ill-kempt and dilapidated that they worried the tunnels would collapse. Most of the platforms and tunnels had been sealed and closed off. And a few that were in good condition were converted into something useful. But the biggest had been designated as Jin’s personal work area. At the bottom of the staircase, you could see the old remnants of the old train tunnels and platforms. The tunnel was dimly lit but you could still see the curve of the arched ceiling, the old support beams, the drop off from the platform to the old rail ways. Claustrophobia started to tighten its fingers around your throat, and your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag in some way to ground yourself. You were sure that anyone who had stumbled into here would have found it abandoned and unsafe. Which, in hindsight, was probably what Bangtan wanted. But you reminded yourself that they wouldn’t put you in danger. And this was supposed to help you.

            Ahead of you, Taehyung and Namjoon were whispering to each other. You were trying not to eavesdrop, but you did catch that Tae seemed worried about this plan. At least he was trying to keep his promise to you and keep you away from things like this. You really did appreciate that and found yourself believing that he really was your friend here. This was a very big deviation from the plan that the two of you had agreed upon a few weeks ago. But something in the way that you caught Namjoon’s plea for the younger to trust him made you want to believe that this was to make everything better. You understood that this was a very big step for them and something that would probably never be taken into consideration. So, this had mean more than you anticipated. You didn’t want to try to imagine what you were being led to. Could it be a scare tactic to make sure you didn’t talk, or something to bribe you? Neither of those fit with the way that Namjoon had presented the option to come down here and you wanted to believe that Taehyung wouldn’t allow it. You took a deep breath to try to refocus your mind on anything else.

            After a bit, as you started to wonder if there was ever an end to this dark tunnel, you could just make out the bricked-up wall that blocked the rest of the way. It was a dead-end, complete with road blockers covered in an inch of dust, caution tape that looked ancient, and crumbling stones. Another façade. Namjoon reached out to one of the broken bricks and pulled it down like it was a lever, which it was, as a door clicked. The door of bricks slid open like some secret passageway in a spy movie revealing a thick wall of steel and a flood of bright light illuminated your shocked face.

            You felt like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole as you stepped from the dark granite onto sterile white tile. How could you still be in the same place? Taehyung had called it a basement workshop and Namjoon had called it a lab, but this was beyond what you could have imagined based on those descriptions. It was like you had stepped into some blockbuster superhero’s hideaway. The lab was large, larger than the pharmaceutical one at Mercy. There seemed to be sections where different projects were being handled. Stainless steel tables were covered with different lab equipment that looked familiar, vials filled with many different liquids and powders, microscopes of varying sizes and usages, chemical analyzers, and centrifuges of the highest quality. On a wall, there were many canisters of different drugs based on the labels you could make out, many of them you had used in the hospital.  Two people in white lab coats were noting some results of something in a petri dish that you were sure you didn’t want to know what it was. Looking behind the amount of lab equipment, there was a small medical area that looked like a walk-in clinic you had visited once before coming to Central. There was an exam table, stretcher, enough emergency medical supplies that made you feel like you were back in the ER. If they had all of this at their disposal, they surely didn’t really need you around. You remembered Jin had once mentioned he had medical training and took care of the others, but you assumed it was first aid training and not actual medical training.

            On the other side of the room, as clean and as well organized as the lab and medical area, was another workshop that was dedicated to all sorts of different tools and weapons of their trade. There were blueprints for a variety of items pinned to a board with notes and arrows all around them. There were multiple wide touch screens with information and numbers, molds and mockups, knives, guns, and other weapons in different ranges of finishes. You could see three or four dummies that looked as if they had been very well used. One had a vest on with bullet holes in it, another had slashes and stab marks that you dared not think about. Further back, there was what appeared to be a small shooting target lined with thick glass that you assumed was bulletproof to protect the workers. There was another person in a white lab coat and goggles who was working intently on piecing together a handgun. And in the very center of the room, sat a huge computer with four different large, active screens, was Jin. He was dressed sharply, as he always was, complete with a stark white lab coat. A pair of round silver glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled something on a notepad while looked at something dissolving in a yellow liquid. He looked like some handsome yet mad scientist at work. The glow of the screens cast a pale pallor on his skin and you could see a tiredness on his drawn features. Whatever he was working on, he must have been at it for a while, or was stressing him out a bit.

            “Did I somehow stumble into the Batcave?”

            “Feels like that sometimes. Jin-hyung’s like the Korean Bruce Wayne isn’t he,” Taehyung laughed.

            “I think he’d prefer Tony Stark,” Namjoon remarked.

            “Aren’t they the same thing,” you asked.

            “I’ll ignore that since you’re cute, Darling,” Jin called out, never looking from the liquid in the beaker in his hand. “But there is a preferrable difference.”

            Yeontan started squirming in Taehyung’s arms until he was placed on the tile and ran to Jin’s side. The tiny puppy jumped, trying to climb up into his lap, crying out for more attention.

            “Aish,” Jin exclaimed, dropping the beaker on the table, thankfully not breaking. “Taehyung why is Yeontan in my lab?! We talked about this.”

            “But he missed his Uncle Jin so much,” Taehyung smirked.

            Jin rolled his eyes as he scooped up the puppy and made his way over to the three of you. He handed the puppy back to Taehyung after scratching the pup’s tiny head. “Just keep an eye on him. I don’t want to think of what he could get into.” He turned his attention to you, flashing you a warm smile. “Welcome to my lab, Y/N. I’m so glad you decided to join us down here. I promise that you won’t regret it. I was hoping to meet you when you first got here but I’ve been quite busy. I trust Taehyung has shown you the house. Though,” he fixed the younger with a sideways glance, “I see he didn’t show you where to put your stuff down and has made you carry it all this way. I know I have taught you better manners than that.”

            “No, he’s been such a good host. I just never set it down. Actually, it’s been nice to hang onto,” you explained, saving Taehyung from whatever tongue lashing he was about to receive. “It gives my nervous hands something to do.”

            “Ah, well, we do know a bit about anxiety and habits here. Do whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He dusted off his hands and slipped his glasses into the top pocket of his lab coat.

            Up close, Jin looked just as amazing as always. Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag again, just to keep from getting overwhelmed. This was going to be a normal occurrence if they were all going to be here with you. His pink hair was combed back from his face as if he had ran his fingers through it many times while working. He was wearing a white button up shirt with a grey sweater vest, dark trousers, and polished shoes. Somehow, he always looked like he was modeling for something. Though, you did notice a bit of bruising peeking out on his collarbone.

            “Are you okay? It looks like you had some issues with CrossFit too.”

            Jin looked at you with a look of utter confusion. “CrossFit?”

            You nodded. “Yes, Namjoon has one too. He said he got it from doing CrossFit with you. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

            Jin’s eye were drawn behind you to his members, who were silently trying to communicate without drawing your attention. Joon was pointing to the mark on his own neck before making a pleading motion with his hands. Taehyung was trying to communicate their intention with his eyes as much as possible.

            “Oh yeah,” Jin said, slowly, realization striking him before he slid back into his trained persona so not to arise any suspicion from you. “CrossFit. Right. Well, you know how it goes. He crossed me so I did what I saw fit.” From behind you, Namjoon seemed to choke on air and Taehyung tried his best to stifle a laugh. You turned around to see what was going on, completely confused and clearly missing something. But Jin turned your attention back to him. “Don’t worry about me, Darling. My perfect skin may be marred for the moment but I will survive. But thank you for your concern.”

            “Well, it is sort of my job. Though based on what I see, you really don’t need me.”

            “Nonsense! You are a professional, and we could definitely use someone with your delicate touch. Whatever you may need, you can just ask. And if I don’t have it, I will get it for you faster than any hospital could. I know many higher ups in all the companies in the country and they would leap at the chance to get in my good graces.”

            Suddenly, a loud bang ricocheted off the wall and made you scream and drop your bag, spilling its contents all over the floor. Bangtan only moved from your scream. Jin’s hands came up to grasp your shoulders, steadying you and trying to reassure you of your safety. He bend down so he was able to look into your eyes and whispered assurances that you were alright. From behind Jin, the young man who had been dealing with the handgun had finished piecing it together and fired a shot at the target. He looked over at you with a surprised look on his face, not realizing someone new was in the room. Taehyung had already crossed the room and snatched the gun from the younger’s hands and stowing it away. He gave Soobin a pointed look that spoke volumes. Namjoon had stoop down to start retrieving your bag. 

            “Soobin,” Jin yelled over his shoulder, “you didn’t think to look up before you shot that? Or at least put a silencer on it?”

            “I’m sorry, sir,” the youth replied. “I’m really sorry ma’am.” He scrambled away from the work bench and over to you all to assist Namjoon in locating all of your items.

            “I’m sorry, Darling, I really didn’t want something to scare you. My intention was to make this less scary for you. Here, come sit over here. Take a deep breath for me. Taehyung, can you go get her some water? Take another deep breath, Darling. Yes, just like that.”

            “This was a mistake,” you said between breaths, alternating between wringing and shaking your hands to try get the tremors to stop. Your voice was cracking as you tried to keep from crying out of sheer panic. “I shouldn’t have agreed to come in here. Why did you think this would be a good idea? What was the point? To scare me into keeping your secrets?

            “Absolutely not. We would never want to put you through that. We trust that you won’t say anything. This was to shed some light on what we’re actually doing here.”

            Taehyung appeared next to you with a bottle of water, which you graciously took and swallowed half the bottle.

            “Hyungs,” he pleaded, “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. We wanted her to be comfortable and she asked us to hide this part of us as much as possible.”

            “And we did,” Jin agreed. “Y/N, we tried. And it was easier when it was just going from your place to the hospital and back. But with you being in our house, unless we lock you up in the living room, it’s going to be hard for you not to see some aspect of our work. That’s why Joon and I had this conversation. We thought that after all the time we spent making this relationship with you that you’d trust us enough. And we thought if you saw what we are working on down here, it might clear the air and ease some of these anxieties that still plague you. But we’ve taken an unexpected turn. Just try to relax. You’re still shaking.”

            “I wish I had taken Doctor Na’s offer for some new anti-anxiety medication,” you muttered to yourself, remembering his suggestion in the stairwell. You had a feeling your anxieties were just going to get worse.

            You looked over as Namjoon came to the desk with your bag, all its contents gathered back inside. All except a familiar clear bottle. Your old medication that you had forgotten was in there since the night Doctor Na had followed you into the stairwell after you saw the exchange of U4-1A. The familiar want you felt then of wanting to down that last pill in the bottle and escape world came back. But you didn’t take it then, you didn’t need it now. You wanted nothing to do with that past life anymore. Hell, you only wanted to know what it was so you could find an alternative that wouldn’t remind you of Daniel. But the temptation was strong as Namjoon held it out for you.

            “This is yours, right,” he questioned. “I found it rolled under a table. And it doesn’t look like anything Jin-hyung’s been working on.”

            “It’s mine,” you said as you took it from him. “It’s old medication from my ex-…um, I mean, from my accident. I ran out and Doctor Na was trying to figure out what it was since the label’s been lost. But our hospital pharmacy couldn’t identify it. I forgot to clean out my bag with…everything going on.”

            “May I?” Jin held out his hand for the bottle. You shrugged, handing it to him. He dumped the pill into his palm and started to examine it with the same focused intensity as he had earlier. He made a face. “A generic white pill with no discernable characteristics. And you don’t remember its name?”

            “I don’t remember ever hearing it. I started taking it after I woke up from my accident. The nurse or my ex would just bring it to me. And then, Daniel would get it refilled after that since I couldn’t drive. When I came to Central, I only had what was left in the bottle and had to space it out. I haven’t taken it for a couple weeks now. It’s probably why my anxiety is really bad.”

            “I can find out what it is for you. I guarantee I’ll have more success than some basic pharmacist fresh out of school. I’ve some connections I can talk with to help me analyze it. And,” Jin held up a hand to silence the protest you were about to pose, “these connections are not gang related. Before I became estranged from my family, I was the second heir to the largest pharmaceutical company in all the country. Despite my father’s best efforts, I was very friendly and charming with our specialists and made plenty of valuable connections to help me in the future. So, if anyone can figure out what this is, it’s me.”

            You were stunned into silence. You remember him mentioning medical training and about his father pushing for a different career, but you never imagined he was a part of the Kim Pharmaceutical dynasty. Of course, you had heard of them; all the hospitals pharmacies in the city were stocked with their products, and every doctor read their research reports and trail information. They beat out every other company when it came to advancements in health services. And they were close to celebrity status amongst the papers. You recalled overhearing some pharmacy interns at lunch talking about them. They mentioned that the company was ran by the Senior Mr. Kim, who had been married twice after his first wife passed, leaving him with two sons to take over the company in the next few decades. The oldest was always showing up in the papers. And the second son was said to be away at some foreign school. Which, now knowing that Jin was the second son, was much better for their publicity than saying ‘a part of the most notorious drug dealing, ruthless Mafia families’. You remembered that night in your apartment when Jin had mentioned blackmailing his father for access to his assets. And, looking around at the lab, it seemed to have paid off well.

            As you let the information settle in your mind, you realized that your hands had stopped shaking and your breathing had evened back out. They had successfully distracted you from your panic so your mind could recenter. Well, you recalled, they did say that they had experience with anxiety.

            “Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung said, gently, “let’s head back upstairs. We’ll find something normal to distract ourselves until the others are ready for lunch.”

            “Alright,” you said with a deep sigh, “but, before I have another panic attack here, what was so important that I had to come down here? Just tell me. Please.”

            “Ah, of course,” Jin said, reaching over to a drawer and pulling out a small clear container. Inside, you could see several small, heart -shaped, pink tablets, no bigger than a breath mint. You had seen the news, read the papers, heard the doctors talking about it. That was U4-1A, Euphoria. When the first few cases had started coming into your ER, you were told to check and see if they had those heart-shaped pills on them, though you had never seen them. The distinct pink color was, also, a dead giveaway; it was the same color the user’s irises turned when they were high on the addictively deadly substance. The few times you had been in the room with some of the addicts that Doctor Na was working with, you recalled a rose-colored ring on the edges of their eyes that seemed so unnatural. Your stomach twisted at the thought of Henry taking the drug from Namjoon when he was supposed to be helping people. He couldn’t even deny it. “You know what this is?”

            “Why the hell would you show that to me?! I asked for one thing. I could look past some things, try to ignore things. Like I could ignore the amount of money coming and going. I could ignore the weapons, or any other reminders. But I asked specificity for this not be mentioned.”

            “Darling,” Jin chided in an amused tone, “I just asked what this was.”

            “Are you fucking for real? It’s Euphoria…”

            “Wrong,” Jin interrupted as he reached out and tapped you on the nose, completely taking you off guard and disarming you. “This isn’t Euphoria, or U4-1A. This is Euphoric. U4-1C.”

            Never heard of that. “Okay. So, what? It’s a knock off?”

            Jin looked offended. “A knock off. My dear, like me, it’s an original that others fail to compare to. It is the only one of its kind and so important to the work we do here. And before you insinuate, no, it is not what started this addict epidemic. The ones who have that despicable honor are Ji and the Royals. This” he held it up to you again so you could see it was more closely shaped like a triangle, “is my solution to it. For the past five or six years now, I have been secretly working on a counter agent to make that horrid drug obsolete and save the people who either willing or unwilling were made to take it. This is going to be the antidote. It’s not finished fully. I haven’t been able to fully identify the exact formula the Royals use. And it’s not an instant cure. But introducing this to someone going through withdrawals, instead of to induce a sexual release, the addict would just need to exert themselves another way, like exercise or something else that released the pleasure signal in the brain. It takes a lot of time and constant dosing but I’ve gotten it to where after so long it can be tapered off from every day to once a month, and soon only once every other month. I am making a cure. And we pass it out to those in need. That’s what I wanted you to see. That we aren’t the bad guys. Well… at least not for this.”

            You let his words absorb and you felt like you had been doused with cold water. So, when Hwasa cornered Namjoon in the hallway of the hospital and took something from his pocket and mentioned ‘someone will find your kindness absolutely… euphoric’, she was taking an antidote to someone addict to U4-1A? That means…what Namjoon had given Henry, what Henry had used for his patients, what he couldn’t talk about was that he was accepting a possible progressive treatment for the poor souls in the hospital. He was, indeed, a good person. And you had thought the worst of him. Any time he tried to talk to you, you’d run in the other direction. You blocked his number and deleted any trace in your phone. You had thrown away everything because you didn’t want to believe him when he had begged you to trust him. 

            “Oh my god,” was all you could say as your head fell into your hands. “I have made a total ass of myself.” Was there a chance Henry would listen to your apology after all of that?

            “You see,” Taehyung said, “I told you we knew the damage Euphoria does to people. We’ve been trying to fight this.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Like that night in the car?”       

            “It’s still a work in progress and a secret,” Namjoon said. “Only a few gangs that have proven trustworthy know we supply it. And they distribute it within their own territory. Or, in the case of your doctor friend, those who did us a great service. We did intimidate him into silence. Which was what you must have seen. Can’t say I blame you for what you thought based on what it looked like. He’d get more if he stayed silent. We don’t want our name attached to it just yet. The Royals already want us dead based on our past with them and our part in the Great War. If they knew what Jin-hyung was doing, it would a bigger target on our backs. But once it’s completely finished, then we’ll openly distribute it to the hospitals and clinics. But we hope that you understand the importance of this secret for us. It’s more than just our lives at risk if the wrong people get word of it. And if Choi already thinks that you’re with us, imagine how much worse it will be when he finds out that we are destroying yet another income for them. Do you understand, Y/N?”

            “This whole time, you’ve been doing a great feat and I’ve been so focused on the rumors. You really are the good guys trying to help?”

            “We’re really good at hiding ourselves. We’ve had years of practice showing the persona we want people to believe.

            “Yeah,” Taehyung said with a cheeky grin, “I mean look at Namjoon-hyung. He puts on a persona that he’s smooth when, in reality, he’s a giant dork who breaks everything he touches.”

            “I’ll break you, you fucking brat.”

            Jin reached out and knocked both of them upside the head. “Language!”

            And you laughed. You laughed without the weight of anxiety or fear weighing you down. For the first time, you felt like you were truly safe.

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

            The next couple of days went by in a pleasant way, falling into a simple routine that you started to look forward to. One of them would pick you up in the morning, making sure to stop by Holli’s Café for a morning caffeine fix, before taking different ways to the Magic Shop that ensured you were still none-the-wiser as to how to get there. Once there, you would find Yoongi either waiting in the kitchen for you or in the expansive gym where you would start with his rehabilitation exercises after you checked and redressed his wounded shoulder. Now that Yoongi was home, there was a difference from the person at the hospital. He was still quiet but much more open to conversations and approachable. The conversations between the two of you were deep and easy like the ones you had with Amber. And you looked forward to them. There was one time you had made a stupid joke that had made him laugh freely. And that felt like a simple accomplishment that warmed you up. And you couldn’t help but find his laugh adorable. One morning, he brought you to his ‘Genius Lab’. According to the others, it was incredibly rare that he even mentioned his safe haven to outsiders, let alone let them see it. But he had made an exception for you.

            The Genius Lab was more like an office where Yoongi spent a good deal of time juggling between work, reflection, and solitude when the world became too much. The space suited his style; grey walls with dark accents and floors, a sleek black desk with three large monitors and computer equipment. Opposite the desk was a long black leather couch that looked quite comfortable. And the room was completely soundproof. When he had brought you into the Genius Lab, he showed off some of his work. You watched as he pulled up different views of various streets all over Central, some storefronts where he pointed out Bangtan’s hired help stationed out front, and the exteriors of the hospital popped up on the screens. You were very thankful that they were still monitoring your workplace. Yoongi tapped on a few keys and different angles of your apartment appeared across the screens, both outside and inside. He played back your morning; Hobi pulling up in a nondescript black car, him swaying to the music in his earpiece as he rode the elevator up, to letting himself into your apartment and waiting for you with Holli’s coffee in his hand. You remembered Taehyung telling you about the cameras they put in your apartment that first morning. While you thought it would be more invasive, you found comfort in his watchfulness.

            This morning had started as usual; Jin had come to pick you up this time to bring you to the Magic Shop. The only one you hadn’t seen since arriving at the Magic Shop was Jimin. He hadn’t appeared at lunch the first day as you expected. You shrugged it off, remembering that Hobi had mentioned he hadn’t been feeling well. But you still hadn’t seen or heard from him. The drive over to the Magic Shop was as winding and secretive as always. Though they had started going in a different way. From the street, it looked as if he had pulled up to an abandoned auto mechanic gas station in the lower section of town. At the touch of a button on the dashboard, a spray-painted door rolled open to a dark tunnel that ended at the parking level of the Magic Shop. You wanted to question how the construction worked or how it had remained secret but decided against it.

            As you ascended the spiral staircase after Jin, that was where the morning took an unusual turn.

            When you stepped into the large front foyer, you were greeted by the sounds of a struggle. Instinctually, you grabbed ahold of Jin’s arm and hid behind his broad shoulders, causing him to chuckle at the cute action. Coming through the front door was a blindfolded man being dragged in by both arms by Yeonjun and another hired staff member. He was yelling all sorts of vulgarities and kicking out in many directions, like he was throwing a tantrum and not trying to escape.

            “Motherfucker! I told you to stop manhandling me like this! You know who I am? I will mess you up!”

            “Such dramatics,” Jin bemused, “He acts like he hasn’t gone through this before. Yeonjun, did he cause you a lot of trouble?”

            “Sir,” Yeonjun snapped to attention, still keeping his captive held tightly. “He tried to give us the slip. We met him at the appointed time but he tried to run. Even tried to jump out of the car.”

            Jin tsked. “Jackson, so disappointing. I thought we had a better relationship than that.”

            “Jin,” Jackson called out, head snapping in different directions to try and focus on him from behind the blindfold, “buddy, come on. I got the times mixed up and your boy jumped on me. Can we take this stupid blindfold off? I thought we’d be past this.”

            “Jackson, you are like a rash; unwanted, hard to deal with, and annoying.”

            “Damn, that hurt.” Yeonjun shoved Jackson forward, causing the man to stumble freely. He ripped the blindfold off his face and turned back to the younger, fist clenched. “Fucking punk, I’ll wipe that fucking smile off your prepubescent face!”

            “Jackson,” Jin said in a commanding tone that in any other situation would be attractive. Stop it, you mentally screamed. “Refrain from threatening my employee in my home before I let him show you why he’s one of our best. Be a good boy and mind your manners. I’ll go get Namjoon to deal with you. Yeonjun, just make sure he stays here and doesn’t try to slip something into his pocket again. I’ll be right back.” Jackson snorted and rolled his eyes as he straightened himself out. Jin turned around to you, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be back in a moment, Darling. Don’t worry, Jackson is like a tiny dog; he’s all bark and nothing else, and easy to kick.” Jin’s eye flicked up towards the corner of the room with a sharp look before he turned back to you with a smile. That was weird. “Yoongi-ah should be here soon. Just hang tight and introduce yourself if you want to. And if Jackson does anything ungentlemanly, just tell Yeonjun and he’ll make him regret it.”

            Before you could beg to just run upstairs, Jin patted you on the shoulder and disappeared. You had to remember that Bangtan would never leave you in any danger since they were bound to protect you. You remembered hearing Namjoon mention Jackson’s name before and figured they wouldn’t bring someone into their home that was a danger. You looked over to Jackson. The man’s dual toned hair was messy from his struggling. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his baggy pants pocket and pushed them up onto his head, like a makeshift headband.

            Then, he noticed you. And you felt like you were a mouse caught in a snake’s site. A cool smile smoothed across his lips as he made his way over to you.

            “Well, look at you. I’ve never seen you around here before. What’s a cute, little thing like you doing here? I’m Jackson. You need anything, I’m the one who will know how and where to find it. Individual contractor. Know-it-all extraordinaire. Master of the Silver Tongues.” He offered his hand out for yours.

            “Um, hi, I’m Y/N.” You hesitated to shake his hand.

            “So, what are you? You’re too cute to be related to any of them. You look far too meek to be one of us. And I’d hope you have better taste than to be trying to date one of these losers when someone like me exists. I can tell you, you can do better. I’ve known these guys for a long time. Trust me, they’ve got odd taste that would disagree with such a cute mouse like you.”

            You retracted your hand. Jackson started to circle you, eyeing you up and down. It wasn’t threatening but you kept your eyes on him. Yeonjun gave you a look but you waved him off for the moment. You could handle yourself.

            “I’m a nurse. I’m assisting them after an incident.”

            “Ooh a nurse? What luck, I’m in need of some attention after all that rough housing.” He winked. “Oh, shit, wait, you’re the one that ran into the gun fight? And took out one of the Royal’s guys? I heard he’s still recovering from severe concussion. Mad respect, sweetheart.”

            “How do you know about that?”

            “I make it my business to know things. That’s how I make a living. And why I’m in such demand. Word of what you did has made its rounds through many circuits. Though, I’ll be honest, I’d never be able to put your face to it. And that’s a good thing in this world. Though, if you want to be extra safe from the bad guys, you may want to reconsider who you’re staying with.”

             “What do you mean by that?” You turned to follow his eyes as he kept circling you. “Bangtan seems to be taking good care of me. And I don’t mean anything by this, but I haven’t heard anything about you until now.”

            “Isn’t that the point? I’m good at staying secret, keeping things secret. And they’re so high profile, it would be easy to find you if they slipped up. There are some things that can’t be bought from me. Like a cute, little mouse. And if I wanted to keep someone safe, I’d make sure no one ever found them. Especially, if they are as interesting as you.”

            “I’m interesting?”

            “How could you not be? You’re so innocent, so different from all the other people I’ve ever met. You just want to help, didn’t know what you were running into. And now you’re stuck, hiding from the mean world that is trying to punish your good deed. I mean, I’ve been their friend for years and I can’t say I’d run into a fight with Choi to save someone he’s trying to kill. So yeah, you’re the most interesting person in the world. And I’d love to get to know you better. Maybe you’ll let me take you out sometime to prove I’m a better waste of your time.”

            “And what makes you think I’d be okay with that?”

            “Well, I can give you a hundred reasons to leave these losers behind.” He stopped circling and leaned in so his nose was only a breath away from yours. “But I’m the only one that you need.”

            Unbeknownst to Jackson, Yoongi had appeared at the top of the staircase as Jackson started circling you. He watched the interaction with a scowl on his face. He descended the stairs with a ghostly quiet until he was right behind the rogue. You noticed him as Jackson had stopped to lean towards you and your breath caught in your throat. He looked mad, a fierce protectiveness was present in his dark eyes. He appeared at the right moment. Then, you realized. Yoongi had cameras in the Magic shop, he had mentioned it. And the look Jin had given to the wall that you didn’t understand must have been to one of Yoongi’s cameras that he was watching for when you had arrived as he had done before. They were still watching out for you. He stood so close to Jackson that you wondered how the other hadn’t sensed him yet, his face right next to his shoulder and gaze boring a hole in Jackson’s head. Jackson noticed that you were no longer paying him the attention he wanted and turned his eyes towards the directions yours were on. And he jumped as if he had just been electrocuted, putting some distance between him and the death glare he was receiving. 

            “Fucking hell, you bastard! Put a bell on your fucking neck! Damn, you scared the shit out of me!”

            “Good,” Yoongi said as he kept his eyes trained on Jackson. “Leave her alone, Jackson. She’s got enough problems without you trying to weasel your way into her bed.”

            “You wound me, Suga. I was just introducing myself to the lucky lady who is now one of the most famous women in our field.”

            “I said,” he took a step closer to him, and despite his arm still in a sling, he looked as if he was about to use it on Jackson, “leave her alone.”

            “Wow, back down, tiger. Sheesh, didn’t think you’d be so concerned about someone like her. Don’t you have your hands full already? Or are you just greedy? Or are you guys taking turns?”

            “Jackson!”

            Namjoon’s voice echoed against the walls. You looked up to the second floor where RM was leaning on the banister overlooking the foyer with Jin by his side glaring down at Jackson. RM looked as annoyed as his voice let on. He was all business with no sign of the calm Namjoon you had been seeing around the Magic Shop. With a power that befitted the Leader of Bangtan, he signaled for Suga to stand down and motioned for Jackson to follow him. With a final look and wink from Jackson to you, he flipped Yoongi off and made for the stairs. Suga, silently, watched him go, making mental notes for the future before he reached back and took your hand in his. You jumped, slightly. He hadn’t been physical with you like the others had, holding your hands, giving you a hug or playful shove. There was always a bit of distance, aside from the medical side of things.

            “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get out of here.”

            He had led you upstairs, asking if you were alright. While Jackson was a lot, it wasn’t something you couldn’t have handled. But you thanked him anyways for stepping in. It felt nice to have someone be so protective of you, something you weren’t so used to. He started leading you up towards the direction of the Genius Lab, where he insisted you stay until Jackson was gone, since it was secure and private, instead of the normal spaces you tended to occupy. Thankfully, the physical therapy you needed to do with Yoongi didn’t require much space and you carried all the equipment you needed in your bag. You figured Yoongi was not a fan of Jackson normally, remembering the disdain in his voice when Joon had mentioned him back at the hospital before. You were sure that Jackson’s display back in the foyer only made that worse and he wanted to keep an eye on when he left.

            As you made it to the floor, Yoongi stopped. “I almost forgot. I need to check on something real quick. Can you remember how to get to the Genius Lab?”

            “I think so. Do you need help?”

            “No. I just need to check on Jimin. I won’t be long.”

            “Is he alright? Is he still not feeling well? I can take a look if you need me to. That’s kind of my whole thing.”

            He gave your hand a squeeze as a little chuckle sat in his throat. “No, it’s nothing you need to worry about right now. He’s coming down with something but is putting off taking his medicine as long as he can. He’s being stubborn. Gets it from me, probably. I’m just making sure he’s still in his room resting. I’ll only be a moment. I promise. Here, this is my key to the Lab. Let yourself in and lock it. I use my code on the door. Not that I think Jackson will know where my office is but just to be safe.”

            Some part of you hated when he let go of your hand to head down the other side of the hall. You had to take a few breaths to let your professional masks fall back into place. You wished your emotions would settle. But being around someone as cute and protective had you feeling a certain way. A way which, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t be feeling. You were hired to help him heal, not to let a crush develop. You really needed to get a grip. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you made your way down the hall.

            However, after a few steps and turns, you had lied when you thought you could find the Genius Lab on your own. The only places you knew how to get to without much assistance was the kitchen, gym, and the family room. You had only been to the Genuis Lab once and you racked your brain for any distinguishing details that would help you find it again. What picture was near the door? What color was the door? Was the one with frosted glass or was that Taehyung’s art studio? You could just stand still and wait for Yoongi to come back and find you. Or you could text him that you were going to back to the foyer. Or text one of the others for help? Joon was busy with Jackson, and you weren’t sure where Jin went after that. Jimin, of course, was sick and shouldn’t be disturbed. And you wanted Yoongi to focus on Jimin and not you getting lost. You sent a text to Taehyung, hoping he wasn’t too busy to help you with what he was up to in town. You walked further down the hall only to stop and turn around after not recognizing anything.

            Wait, was this the same place you had started? Why must this place be so confusing?

            Your phone buzzed. You looked down at Taehyung’s text.

      TaeTae: I really got to make you a map LOL.

       TaeTae: Do you remember how to find the stairs? Get back there and look for your favorite painting of mine. The G.L is two doors down from that.

       TaeTae: If you can’t find it, I’m sure he’ll find you with the cameras. Sorry, I’m at a meeting right now.

            You could do this. Just find the stairs. Though that was easier said than done now that you had gotten all turned around. You’re sure Taehyung would make a joke out of this if you were ever found. After another turn, you did see a picture that seemed familiar and went down that direction. As you kept walking, you started to hear voices. At least that was a start. Once you found the source, you could orient yourself or ask for help. You followed the voices, and as they got louder, you recognized RM’s tone and regretted your discussion, not wanting to interrupt. That, and you were sure Yoongi didn’t want you near Jackson again so soon. But as you were about to turn back, their conversation caught your attention.

            “Haven’t I been super helpful to ya’ll? Who was the one who gave you that info about the Royals showing up?”

            “You, also, neglected to tell us that Choi was going to be there. And that is how Suga got hurt.”

            “An oversight. That must have changed at the last minute. I can’t be a mind reader.”

            “Even though you market yourself as one?”

            “Ok, true. But you of all people should know that they don’t do what they say. Regardless, I told you about the Ateez pirates. I said they were up to something interesting. You should trust me by now. I got the information. I may be an independent player in this game, but I like you guys. That’s why I keep my ears open for you. And, I haven’t spilled anything of yours.”

            “That’s because I don’t let you get anything worth spilling.”

            “Ouch, you wound me, bro. I thought we were closer than that.”

            Before you could help yourself, you found yourself stopped outside of Namjoon’s office. The door was barely cracked, but enough for you to see a bit inside. Namjoon’s office was much different from Yoongi’s; it was a large room with warm hardwood against velvety walls that declared power, with bookcases lining the grand walls. Thick hard-covered books filled the shelves like an extensive library. Seated at an opulent and ornate desk in a high wing backed chair was RM, his fingers threaded together and pressed against his lips as he peered sharply at Jackson. Jackson sat relaxed in a smaller, less comfortable chair. They were bathed in the crackling light of a roaring fire from the Victorian style fireplace that sat across from them. This was what you expected of a Mafia leader.

            “I don’t appreciate you making my second so upset. He’s supposed to be recovering. Something he wouldn’t have to be doing had you had better information. Maybe I should start going to someone else.”

            Jackson scuffed. “As if anyone could do what I do. Besides, I feel like you would have done it by now if there was anyone else. And if that asshole wasn’t so easily riled up he would be fine. I was just saying ‘hello’ to her. And trying to figure her out. She’s quite a surprise Joon.”

            “We are trying to keep her safe. That includes from you, Jackson. She’s a civilian who got caught up in the worst way. We just got her to relax around us. I’d thank you to not undo what I’ve been working hard to do.”

            “I hear you. Glad you took my advice to just go with it. I told you nothing bad would happen. I mean, what did you just say? ‘She’s a civilian’. I truly doubted she would be any problems.”

            “No thanks to you.” Joon leaned further in his chair, his dragon eyes glowing in the fire light. “I’ve been patient, Jackson. More than I should be given what I am dealing with here. Now, you are going to tell me what I asked you to find out for me before I let Suga do what he wanted to do.”

            “Damn, for someone who said it’s all business, you’re really pushing it here.”

            “Jackson,” you could tell that Namjoon’s patience was wearing thin. What was he so determined to know? Was it something to do with Choi or the Royals?

            “Man, look. I can find information about anyone. With just their name, I can tell you if they had late fees from their elementary school library or how many days their mother spent in the hospital recovering from birth.”   

            “And yet, it has taken you over a week to get back to me. Either you are slipping or you are full of shit.”

            “Or you’re dealing with a ghost.” Jackson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad. “Everything I found fits on two pages of this little flip pad. Even the most basic civilian fills half of the pages. But this Y/N girl is either that most boring person in the entire world or she’s a ghost.”

            Wait, he was here about you? Namjoon was looking for information about you? You thought you had been very open with them about anything they had asked you. He had asked you to trust him, but he didn’t trust you. He had hired Jackson to dig up anything on you that he could. He was nervous when you had first come to the Magic Shop but you thought you had worked past that. Hadn’t the time they had spent with you beforehand been enough to prove that you meant no harm to them or else why would he ask you to come here? You knew you shouldn’t listen to any of this, but you couldn’t move. You sunk to the ground and leaned against the wall, listening.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Jackson tossed the pad over to him to see for himself. “I mean, this girl has nothing before two years ago. All I could find is that she currently works at Central Mercy as an ER Nurse, she lives in a shitty apartment that’s overpriced for that part of town. Before that, there isn’t much. I found her college she attended for her expedited nursing degree where she got high marks. Her father worked for different police forces as a high up desk jockey, meaning she moved a lot so there isn’t much in regard to early years. But nothing else. Everything starts about two years ago. I was able to find a news article about a car accident that listed her as a passenger, so her amnesia story checks out as far as that. Can’t said I ever heard of someone using amnesia as a cover, but fuck if it wouldn’t be good. Father died and there was no mother listed on any paperwork. Father’s file is just as blank. Just he was basic cop who sat at a desk. After the accident, her only known address was some small studio in her name that was set up by the rehab she was assigned to by some Doctor Sung, who died a year after from a heart attack. Found all his files but it’s nothing interesting. She did some reception job for a clinic before she came here that was a nonprofit for student nurses and that had nothing useful other than what I already had. But that’s all. No ties anywhere, no real records until recently. Either she’s got the most boring, nonspecial life I’ve ever seen, or her life’s been invented by some crazy mastermind. And I’m leaning towards the first one, man. This girl is boring and is nothing in the grand scheme of things. And that’s the truth. The most interesting thing was meeting you guys. She’s harmless. She’s no threat to anyone except maybe herself with that stupid heroic shit. So, you worried for nothing. Your family is safe, just like I said it would be.”

            “How can that be all?” Namjoon seemed disappointed. “You’re telling me that there was no other information? How can someone’s life just go back two years? You must have missed something.”

            “I don’t miss shit. Listen, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but that’s all there is. Her old man must have been from some off the grid town beforehand and didn’t leave footprints. She’s a nobody. She’s barely worth the time I spent looking for her.  So, stop worrying about her like she’s gonna turn into some problem. And if she does, you can kill her easily enough. Hell, there are seven of you, should be easy.”

            You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. Namjoon’s eyes snapped towards the door, knowing full well that he had been caught. He rose from the desk and crossed the room, opening the door to find you rooted in place against the wall, eyes cast down with tears welling in the corners. It wasn’t just from the threat of being killed by the people you were supposed to trust, or the harsh words that Jackson had said about you. But it was the fact that you weren’t trusted. You were not granted the same thing he had begged you to do for them. And that hurt just as much.

            “Oh shit,” Jackson said with a hint of glee. “Little mouse likes to sneak around, huh? I can see why you didn’t want to trust her. Seems like she’ll get herself killed before too long.”

            “Jackson,” RM roared causing you to shrink further into yourself and the tears to flow freely. Namjoon looked down at you, instantly regretting his tone. He had messed up and he knew that. Moving carefully, he held his hand out to you in a silent plea to take it. Feeling like there was no other choice, you let him pull you up to your feet and into his office. Daring to look at his face, you didn’t see anger or any dangerous threat that you feared for your eavesdropping. You saw remorse and sympathy. He led you towards the fireplace where there were two large armchairs facing each other with a side table full of half-read books. He motioned you to sit before he turned back to Jackson. He took out his phone and sent a quick message. Within a moment, Yeonjun appeared in the door. “That’s enough, Jackson. Thank you for your help. But I need to talk to Y/N. Yeonjun will take you back where he found you. You know the drill.”

            “Wow, fastest visit ever. Am I at least getting paid?” Namjoon shot him a look that made him jump and scurry over to the door. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. I’m sure he isn’t going to kill you. Let me know if you want to take me up on my offer.”

            Yeonjun grabbed Jackson by the collar and dragged him out, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone with Namjoon and the crackling fire. You thought back to when he had saved you when Choi had you cornered in the hospital hall, how good natured he had been with you, how he had been so open with you before he even knew anything more about you. He had been the one pushing for you to trust them and be comfortable with them. He had wanted you to come to the Magic Shop, was planning on telling you before he got busy. But was it all a ruse to get you to follow along? A handkerchief was pushed into your hands and Joon took a seat in the opposite armchair.

            “Y/N, I’m sorry you heard that.” He was sorry? Was he going to reprimand you for eavesdropping? Or tell you that all this was a farce that he was going to drop and forget this life debt he kept pushing? “I was hoping to have talked to him before you ever got here. Just for some extra assurance before we moved forward. I didn’t want you to ever hear that. Jackson can say things harsher than he means. I asked him to do a more detailed background check than I had already done, just to ensure I had all the facts.” He flinched when your breath hitch as more tears fell. He started to reach out his hand to try and comfort you but thought better of it. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just needed to be completely sure that we were all going to be safe.”

            “I wouldn’t have hurt any of you. I can barely handle myself, let alone do anything to you all,” you cried. “Why would I put myself in this situation? I tried to get away from all of this but you kept me here. I would have told you all of that stuff. It’s all I know about myself since the accident. I have nothing to hide from anyone. I promise I have only told you the truth.”

            “I know you have. I’m sure you would have told me everything freely. I fucked up. I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”

            “Was he right? Are you going to kill me? Because I seem like a made-up person? Because I don’t have a past?”

            “No!” Namjoon rose from his seat and knelt down in front of you, finding your eyes and begging for your attention. “I would never do that. I promised to protect you. And I would do that whether you owed us a life debt or not. This life I’ve been living for the past twelve years has made me question so much about people. I’ve been lied to so many times that it fucks up your mind. Bangtan is my family and it’s my responsibility to protect them. When I met you, I instantly felt like I could trust you. I could see that you were a good person. But we had been fooled by someone we thought we could instantly trust before and I got nervous. But the more we spent with you, I knew it was different. But there was this little part of me that still worried. So, I looked into you after that first day. That’s why I introduced us as Bangtan to you. The others agreed because they saw what I saw in you. We've all been jaded by this life but something in you broke through all of our hesitations. We all think you are a good person and that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. Once we got you to see what we really were, I thought this would be easier on all fronts.”

            “You asked me to trust you but you couldn’t do the same for me?”

            “I know. It’s been so long since I could really trust someone. Look at Jackson. Okay, bad example. But I’ve known Jackson almost as long as I’ve known the others. But I still need to keep him at arm’s length or watch what I say around him. It’s different with you. I want to trust you, I do. I just needed to be extra sure that I was doing the right thing. I truly mean that.”

            You sat in silence for a long while as your breath evened out and your tears ceased. You could understand his hesitation. How could he be sure that you weren’t lying? It made sense, but hearing Jackson’s words, imagining that’s how they saw you, it was hard. But you had been so back and forth with their trust, too.

            “I really wish we could just start over.”

 “What do you want to know?” You took a deep breath and leaned back into the armchair. “What else do you need to hear? You want to be sure? Ask away. I only know so much. You guys have asked me to trust you and you told me things that would be helpful. I will try to do the same so we can share a common ground. Maybe one day I’ll know more and I can tell you more. But I can tell you what I can.”

            “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t need to do that. I trust you.” He stood up and moved towards his desk. But you grabbed his hand, steeling yourself to open up as much as you could. He could sense your determination and returned to the armchair. “Just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

            “I never really talk about this. It’s hard to talk about. But I can confirm that what Jackson said was all true. It’s actually pretty much all I know for myself. My first actual memory is waking up in a small hospital room in so much pain. There was a man sitting next to me that I didn’t remember. He was my friend, he showed me pictures of us at school. His name was Daniel. I don’t know his last name, I never asked or remembered it. He’s the one who told me about the accident. My father’s car was hit from the side and flipped. He didn’t make it. Daniel spent weeks by my side as I recovered. Dr. Sung was this older doctor who watched over me and helped me recover. Once I was moved to his rehab, Dr. Sung prescribed me all these different treatments but my memories never came back. Daniel brought me my old schoolwork, my old journals, anything that could help me find myself. But there wasn’t much. Jackson said something about us moving a lot. After a year, I could recall little things about places I believe I lived. But there was never anything concrete. No friends or family reached out. Daniel told me that it was just me and dad. He had never heard us talk about anyone else. I guess we didn’t stay long in places. After I was released from the rehab, Daniel and I moved into this small apartment that was far away from everything. The rehab set it up to help me adjust to the world. But I was like a zombie, depressed, broken. After six months, I started trying to get better, start over. Daniel and I started dating, I found a job that was walking distance from my place. All my medical training came back over time. Just not anything else. And that was my life for almost two years. But, almost five months ago, Daniel and I split up and I came to Central to get away from all the unpleasantness. I’d prefer not to go into that if that’s alright. We weren’t good together anymore. Since I’ve been away, I’ve started remembering little flashes of things that don’t make a lot of sense. Amber thinks it’s because I’m away from the trauma. I don’t even know if I want to remember anymore. But if I remember anything more, I promise I’ll tell you once I figure it all out.”

            Namjoon reached out and took your hand. “It’s okay. Thank you for sharing that with me. I promise to be more upfront about any questions I have. I trust you.”

            “I trust you, too.”

[snowy-vee]

KOL: December 1st (1)

n/a: I come out of the basement with a new WIP, I know I promised an update on ALL MINE but I am still working on it, in the meantime, I hope yall can enjoy this fic! I wanted to make it CaitVi but I miss my girl Ellie, it's not going to be 'x reader', more like OC (trying new things) THAT'S ALL, LOVE YOU. Any mistake will be corrected later on, but feel free to point anything!

—————————— Insert cool divider.

The smell of fresh coffee hit her, mixed with the alcohol of last night, making her reach for her forehead as soon as the headache came. She groaned walking towards the back of the counter ignoring the ‘finally, you show up’ of Dina and putting her apron on.

“Remember that tonight Dina and I have our anniversary dinner and you’ll have to open up tomorrow, also, the new hire has experience working in coffee shops, still you’ll have to instruct her.” Jesse said while preparing some cappuccinos. “I told her to arrive at the same time as you, so please don’t be late”

Ellie nodded, opening the cash register and slipping a five-dollar bill into the back pocket of her denim jeans. Behind her, Dina let out one of her usual loud sighs, muttering under her breath, “Unbelievable. There she goes again.”

“Got something to say?”

“Yeah, clean up the tables, rush hour is coming soon” Dina threw a cleaning cloth at her. “You may be the owner but you still have to work for those fives you be taking out ¡I want to see my face, make’em shine!”

Just like she said, in less than fifteen minutes, the coffee shop was full with uni students and office workers that were going to spend eternal hours (until closing time) finish work and drinking coffee, eating the little pastries, gossiping and making some calls. Ellie liked that time, it kept her busy and running, so her mind had zero time to think about the bad times, even less once Dina clocked out.

Sure, she had to make most of the coffees while Jesse interacted with the clients and keep filling up the ‘freshly baked’ pastries but that was better than pretending to be friendly and having to smile. If she was the one receiving the costumers, they would leave the worst reviews online, her smile? Crooked, never met the eyes, her tone? Rude, she wasn’t in the mood, service? Thank the genetics that she was hot enough to make anyone ignore all of the above, pretty privilege.

She yawned, checking that they had enough of everything in the storage room for the next day. Check here, check there, enough milk, enough coffee… yeah, everything seemed to be enough, even the sound of the coins falling back in the cash register as Jesse counted them wasn’t enough to fill the silence that surrounded her now.

Ellie coughed, trying to get herself back into her task and not wander through those bad memories, of that cold night, the last night she had with him and she wasted it by fighting… no, no… her breathing starting to be irregular and her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual, She told herself it was nothing she couldn’t handle until the light bulb flickered, fro that moment it was fight or flight. ‘‘Fuck no, I’m leaving-’’ she shook her head and tried to open the door but it seemed locked, it wasn’t locked before, this door doesn’t even lock, why couldn’t she get out?

‘‘Oh, god, Jesse! Jesse, open the door, please! I’m stuck, Jesse!’’ Ellie started hitting the door repeatedly, if that bulb stopped fully and she was left in the dark, she was so sure that she would die, her heart would jump out of her body or maybe she would turn purple. Like flashes, images of that one moment came to her head, the sounds were vague but they felt so close, almost as if she was transported to relive that day once again and the coldness of that room wasn’t playing in her favor, much less the humidity that started forming in the room since the winter started.

The dizziness she wasn’t unfamiliar with, finally catch her up, her legs became weak and threw her balance off, making her fall on her ass, she searched for stability leaning on the closest wall, putting pressure on her pounding chest. She knew that she was exaggerating, that she wasn’t going to throw up her whole stomach, but why did it felt like that? why did it felt like her lungs were closed? as if something sucked them dry and now she wasn’t able to breath normally?

“Wow, wow! Ellie? Hey!” Jesse quickly grabbed Ellie, shaking her up a little so she could snap out of it, she ,instinctively, pushed him away. “Ellie, you are okay, I am here with you now, the door is open too, let’s breath… Inhale… Exhale”

“I-It’s difficult, I can’t breath” she gasped in the middle of her hyperventilation, Jesse put a hand on her shoulder and slightly pressed it, repeating the same words. “I can’t breath, it hurts- I can’t-”

“Ellie, I’m right here. Focus on my voice. Inhale… now hold it for a second… exhale. That’s it, one breath at a time” He kept talking her out of her trance. Jesse thanked god that Ellie had her eyes closed, otherwise, the worried look he had on his face would’ve triggered her more, she needed help. Delete Created with Sketch.

“We’re home!” Jesse said loudly opening the door of his highly lighted house.

“Fucking finally, go get dressed. We’ll miss our reservation.” Dina walked ahead, adjusting her earring as she went upstairs with her husband following behind “Ellie, I left everything written on a note on the fridge, JJ already had dinner he’s watching some cartoons while Amaris leaves, two more hours and he goes to sleep, no more than that”

Dina kept talking but her words became muffled as the distance grew and the sound of her footsteps replaced them as she turned the corner, Ellie rolled her eyes, as if it was the first time they left JJ on her watch, the kid loved her, one hot glass of milk for him and a cold beer for her and they could fall asleep instantly “Who the fuck is Amaris?”

“That would be me” She turned around to find the soft voice behind her, there was a girl putting a big brown coat on and wrapping a cranberry red scarf around her neck. “And you are Ellie”

“How do you know?

“Dina said your name” she smiled grabbing her bag “Dina, I’m leaving!”

The sounds of heels clacking towards them made them looked up at the top of the stairs, there she was wearing an amazing red dress paired with dazzling heels of the same color, her dark wavy, voluminous hair, and her simple yet glowing makeup. It had been a long time since they had an opportunity of having alone time, so Dina wanted to look her best.

“Thank you so much love! I don’t know what I would have done without you, text me when you get home!”

“I will! You look gorgeous, have fun!” Dina disappeared the same way she came, leaving Amaris and Ellie at the entrance once again “And I’ll see you tomorrow, bye, Ellie!”

“See me tomorrow?” Ellie asked but the girl had left without hearing it, leaving her confused. The girl was new in town—Ellie was sure of it. And if she wasn’t, there was no way Ellie would have forgotten a face like that.

She had to ask Dina and Jesse, she was curious now, so she went upstairs towards their room, they had the door half open so it was easy to hear their conversation, she was about to knock when she heard her name in the middle of it.

“I’m telling you, Dina, I found her curled into a ball and trembling, full of tears, she needs professional help”

“We are helping her, she’s not ready to open up to strangers yet”

“And when is she going to be? Look at her, she needs to get wasted to sleep, she barely eats…”

That wasn’t true—she usually ate the breadsticks they sell all the time, just… not much lately. But it was nothing for them to worry about. Ellie stepped back from the door, she didn’t want to be a burden for them, that’s why she was being distant to the couple and for what? Her action made them concerned about her and she couldn’t have that.

What happened today at the storage room might have not been the first but it was a first for Jesse. She has had panic attacks in front of Dina, who swore not to tell him, so Ellie wasn’t surprised that she was trying to dodge having that conversation, maybe she felt bad for not telling Jesse.

That thought made Ellie feel worse, even her chest felt heavy, she was the one that begged her to not tell anyone, she knew how bad her friend must’ve be feeling at he moment, having to lie to her husband for the sake of their friendship.

“When she feels like it! All we can do is show her that we are here for her, that we love her and that she can count on us”

Jesse sighed “I know but-”

“But nothing, please, let’s enjoy this night, hm? I’m wearing an amazing set and I can’t wait to show it to you’’

“Oh yeah?” That was her cue. Slowly without making noise she went downstairs to the kitchen and she grabbed a beer from the fridge, her hand twitching before she picked it up. The conversation she’d just overheard still echoed in her head, but now, the noise in the back of her mind needed to be silenced.

She sighed heavy plumbing down on the sofa next to JJ “What are you watching, big boy?”

“Amaris put a Ghibli movie for me to watch, Ponyo” The seven-year-old pointed at the TV, his eyes weren’t even meeting her, he was immerse in the colorful and exciting cartoon in front of him.

“Amaris… Did you like her?”

“She’s super funny! And she prepared pasta with carbonara, it was delicious!”

“Is she funnier than Aunt Ellie?” JJ put a hand to his chin and hummed as if he was debating between them two “You’re joking, come here, I’m gonna tickle you until you choose me!”

“No!” JJ tried to run away but it was late, the moment Ellie put her beer down, she was grabbing her nephew and tickling his belly while he kicked and giggled. This moments warmed her heart, she used to babysit him every Saturday night with- well, she used to, but after what went down, she stopped. Today was the first night since then and, God, did she missed this.

The giggles of them both joined two more voices, Dina and Jesse were watching the whole scene with heartfelt smiles, for a moment they saw Ellie glow like she used to. Dina approached them giving a kiss on her son’s cheek and giving a twenty dollar bill to her.

“I pay you in advance, do not finish all the beers, I counted them” Ellie chuckled and nod “And you, not because Auntie Ellie is here, you can stay up all night, okay young man? I will know it and I will take your TV rights”

“Better listen to you mother, and no overeating, you’ll get sick” Jesse added messing with his hair but he was looking at Ellie.

“I know, no candy for the kid, you two can go and have a great time”

Dina narrowed her eyes and smiled to the side before sighing and nodding. “Anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Two hours later after they left, JJ was passed out on the couch, drooling a little bit on the cushion, Ellie laughed at the image, so cute! Gently, she picked him up and carried him to his room, put him in the bed and tucked him in before hitting the night light and leaving. Time to finish all the beers and smoke a joint in the backyard. Delete Created with Sketch.

When the morning alarm rang, she woke up startled in her apartment, kicking some beer bottles she had around, but not hard enough to shatter them. She had a short time to shower, but she still did and got dress real quick and basic (Blue jeans, white t-shirt and her green flannel), grabbed her keys and got out of her apartment.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have drank so much” Ellie said locking the door. She knew that the moment that Dina saw her, she would reproach as to why she finished all the beers when Dina ask not to, but Ellie couldn’t stop herself and once she got home-Jesse had to dropped her- she kept going at it until she passed out on the couch.

“I know the feeling” Chills. Through. Her. Whole. Spine. Behind her was JJ’s one-night babysitter, Amaris, closing the door of the apartment in front of her “Would you look at that? We are neighbors”

She had a big smile and she look radiant, she was wearing the same scarf as last night and Ellie swore for a second there was a halo making the girl shine. She nodded her direction barely meeting her eye and raised her hand to signal ‘bye’ and took off towards the coffee shop.

How embarrassed she felt, oh god, she must look like crap and it wasn’t something that she usually cared because she was so used to the people in town that she barely cared about their opinions on her, if she wanted to hook up with any girl from her- Not that she wanted to hook up with the new girl- she knew they wouldn’t care, she’s been like this since… Whatever, why was she thinking about how she looked? She needed to focus on opening the shop and training the new hire—not obsessing over cranberry girl.

Also, what a coincidence that the new neighbor after Ms. Johnson was Amaris, she knew that someone new had moved in a few days ago but she never payed attention nor cared, Ellie felt as if she unlocked a new character in a video game, you see them once, you see them forever. They’ve only interacted twice but Ellie could tell that she had a charming personality and she made everything very casual.

The streets were getting colder, Ellie’s flannel wasn’t enough to keep her warm anymore, winter was close and with that the busiest holiday for the coffee shop. When the little snow, the charming lights and the jolly songs surrounded the town, it was enough signal for everybody that wanted to spend time outside of their houses but not freeze the whole day to go and order the hottest drink in the menu and enjoy the heating the shop provided them, and Ellie hated that… What doesn’t this girl hate? Oh! And not to mention how Dina made her wear a headband with a little Santa’s hat. Another year of torture, she thought unlocking the back door and hitting all the lights on.

She yawned again looking at the hour in the big clock as she got in the front and started turning on every machine, the new hire should be nearby, I will wait for them before starting to do anything, meanwhile I’ll arrange the cash register. Ellie started doing the task, counting that it were close to 200 dollars like everyday when the bell of the front door jingled.

“We are not open yet, you can comeback in 30��� It wouldn’t be the first time customers dismissed the closed sign and came in before the opening time, so automatically, without taking her eyes off the money, Ellie gave her usual line listening to the steps getting closer to the counter.

“I’m the new hire, actually” That voice. Ellie couldn’t seem to escape it since she heard it last night, was she everywhere? Amaris smiled taking off her coat and her scarf, as she did that, she contaminated the whole air with her essence, a combination of cherries and amber, smacking Ellie off guard. “Oh, yeah, here… for your headache, I can’t have my boss being grumpy on my first day”

Amaris handed a plastic bag to her with some pills in. “What?”

“Sorry, was it too much? too friendly too soon? God, I’ve been told that I should slow down and not be all up in people’s business specially if we are not close but this morning you seemed hangover and you said-”

“Uh, yeah, no, you’re good” Ellie frowned looking at the girl that now seemed flustered and nervous, even embarrassed which was a new look for Ellie since Amaris seemed pretty confident the little times she have seen her (two fucking times), coughing a little bit to maintain her focus, Ellie locked the register “Let me show you where you can leave your things and then the basics, Jesse told me you already have experience?”

“Yes, I do, I used to work in one at the mall in my town, always filled, so I work really well under pressure”

“Huh” Ellie nodded pointing at a locker when they got there “You will have to buy a lock yourself, tho, but this is yours now”

“Dina told me, I came prepared” Amaris winked at her showing a lock and key, she folded her coat and stashed it inside with her scarf and her tote bag.

That winked surprised Ellie “Is this what you meant by seeing me tomorrow? You already knew who I was?”

“Yes, I had the interview in your office, there are picture there, but sorry if it was too much, again, I’ve been told I could be too much… but that doesn’t affect my efficiency when working! I am very moderate” Amaris rushed to say.

From her point of view, Ellie didn’t seem someone playful at all, not someone you could crack jokes with easily unless you were in her inner inner inner circle and she was trying so hard to restrain herself to not start blabbing and fuck up her first day in the job and having the boss instructing her the whole morning. Amaris wanted to present herself as she normally is but just with those little interactions with Ellie, she felt as if being her usual flirt self would get her into trouble, she had to tone it down. Another thing she noticed was how different Ellie looked from the pictures, a little bit more gloomy, as if someone had sucked the color off of her, the light pf her eyes and any happy emotions since she looked pissed off with the world almost every minute.

Amaris hit her forehead mentally questioning herself if she was there to think of Ellie or to work “Okay… Let’s get into it and hope you weren’t lying”

Ellie turned around just in time to not see how Amaris mouth opened showing how offended that comment was. Great, so she is the jerk boss type, nothing you can’t handle, Amaris, remember why you need the work- money, money money ,with a deep breath and two taps on her shoulder to cheer herself, she followed the boss.

[moriartyluver]

can we have some mtp boys (separate) on how they’d treat a fem! Reader who is on her period. You don’t need to make it historically accurate & if you’d prefer, you can make it modern au. Thank you!!!

A/N: I did this in a modern AU as suggested because I have no idea how people would have dealt with periods in the 19th century

Characters: William James Moriarty x fem! Reader , Albert James Moriarty x fem! Reader ,Louis James Moriarty x fem! Reader (separate)

Format: headcannons

Genre: hurt/ comfort, fluff

Prompt: the Moriarty brothers with a reader who is on their period.

Warnings: reader is afab, reader is female, established relationships, periods/menstruation etc.

LOUIS would be such a good partner in general so when you’re on your period? He is doing everything!

He’s already very much a househusband male wife kind of guy but it just gets so much more malewifey when you’re on your period

Oh you’re hot water bottle got slightly less warm? Louis is filling it up for your instantly

He will literally shower you in heating pads

I don’t think he’d be very physically affectionate in general, his love language is definitely acts of service and it’s very evident all the time, but if you ask to be held, hold you he will.

He’ll make you anything you want to eat no matter how strange (I always get really weird cravings on my period so if you do aswell, be prepared because Louis will stop at nothing to make you happy)

He has a whole storage cupboard packed with pads and tampons and whatever else you may use, all with your preferred sizes and brands because he’s just that caring. You never run out of pads or tampons with him around.

If any ones annoying you, he’ll be super pissed off and will actually get into a fight for your sake.

If you’re feeling emotional, he’ll be by your side reassuring you that everything’s okay. He’s a bit emotionally constipated but he tries his best for you.

If you ever need sheets to be washed or clothes to be cleaned, he won’t mind at all and he will definitely not get upset.

He himself doesn’t go out unless necessary so he’ll try stay at home with you all the time, just in case you need something (even if you insist that you’re fine)

Overall rating? 10/10 wifey material

WILLIAM probably knows more about your period than you do. Not in a gross mansplaining way but in a well educated husband kind of way

Like he definitely knows when you’re going to start you’re period based on symptoms and stuff before you get that little red surprise in your underwear. Worst feeling tbh.

He helps you learn how to track your cycle and if you’re an inconsistent period girlie like myself, he’s a great help. Imagine just getting ready to go out and then William tells you to make sure to take a pad/tampon/cup with you before you leave 💀

He pampers you too, especially if you live together, but not in the same way louis does.

He’s a bit more strict when it comes to what you should and shouldn’t eat (it’s the protective teacher in him). Liam makes you take magnesium supplements and makes sure you eat healthy even if you’re craving junk food so your cramps don’t get worse.

He’s probably calculated the perfect temperature for your heat pad/hot water bottle 😭

Probably a little more affectionate than his younger brother would be. If you’re complaining about being cold or uncomfortable, he’d put whatever book he’s reading down and hold his arms wide open for you. William absentmindedly rubs your back while listening to you complain about having a uterus

Definitely pressed kisses to your forehead while you ramble like the old fashioned lover he is 🤭

He makes sure to buy you really good quality pads/tampons and is sure to memorise which brands or types you prefer. Might slip a chocolate bar in there too. He also buys you painkillers and gives you the correct doses and everything at the right times

If you don’t feel like speaking much (he loves talking to you for some reason. its adorable) he gets a little upset but he’s a surprisingly good communicator. He doesn’t want to make you feel uneasy and bless his heart, he does all the chores and everything so you don’t have to suffer further while your uterus tries to fucking kill you

Overall rating? ∞/10 (I am totally not biased) I want to marry him idc if he’s a drawing

ALBERT is stupid. I’m sorry that’s a mean way to start off

I think we can all agree he has OCD or OCPD but he’s so sweet to you despite some seeing periods as a ‘Filthy’ thing.

You bled through the sheets? He’ll calmly help you fix that dw sweetie. If you bleed through your pants in public and anyone gives you any dirty looks or some weird shit because people hate uterus havers, he’s not called one of the most unhinged mtp characters for nothing 😊

Ok but this man knows nothing about periods though. I’m so sorry. Like you had to explain to him that no you can’t hold in the blood nor do you use your pad as a bandaid of some sort

Would probably send you one of these :(yes I made that)

He needs Louis to go shopping with him to help get you stuff because this man is smart enough for eton but not enough to know that different colours on pad packages are not flavours 🙄

Also he’s a shit cook so you still have to do that if u don’t wanna starve

Probably the most affectionate out of the brothers. He’s very cuddly with you when you need him to be (mainly because he feels bad for being so damn useless)

Overall rating? 2/10 💀

[bitterbetabunny]

Hypnovember 2: Reset

Stealing the prompt list @jammed-out is putting together for the month

CW: robot play, talk of memory and personality wipe

When K1T had agreed to let Oakley do some maintenance on it, it had hesitated.

K1T was not made for at-home updates and repair, it was one of many mass-produced bots made to break down just as the new model came down. It had been lucky enough, originally, to be bought by a family that prided themselves on not being wasteful; they had been more interested in maintaining what they had and they were willing to take K1T back to the manufacturer whenever a part broke or they wanted a new update installed.

But that had been a long time ago.

It had been a long time since even the manufacturer stopped working on the K1T model.

It had been a long time since K1T was left to be recycled.

K1T had been lucky to meet Oakley; they met recently, though K1T had trouble remembering the details. Clearly its memory storage needed some updates, or maybe it was some other part acting up.

Oakley had reassured it that they would keep things simple for the first tune up.

Sitting in the service chair, locked into place with most of its motor functions disabled, K1T could feel Oakley’s unscrewing the plate from the back of its neck. It felt the piece lifted and heard metal on metal as it was set aside. The air of the garage immediately cooled its exposed wires; K1T didn’t have any programming to mimic the shivers that human’s felt, but even one plate being removed always made it feel a cold wave run through its body. Before the cold got too far, it felt Oakley’s tools tap at one of its internal consoles.

“I forgot what you were going to fix,” K1T admitted, feeling a bit nervous.

“I mostly wanted to look around and clean things off,” Oakley said, obviously concentrating.. K1T could feel them still poking around. “You’ve still been operating well, so I doubt I’ll need to replace anything, but there’s sure to be a few things that could use some TLC.”

“Are you… going to take off any other plates today?” K1T asked, hoping to get an idea of what all Oakley planned to check. Surely Oakley would get to everything eventually, but that would take more than a day.

“Depends. I definitely want to check some of your processing, sensory, and memory modules. I should be able to do all that from here, though.”

“Oh, but you’re not going to remove anything to actually inspect yet, right?”

K1T felt the tinkering stop. “I wasn’t planning on it today, no. Is that something you’re worried about?” Oakley asked.

K1T saw and felt its lights turn a bright pink. “Oh, I, uh… I wasn’t sure if…”

“You can relax,” Oakley said with a chuckle. Their hands started moving again and they scooted their chair closer so that their leg rested against K1T’s side. The contact did calm it down. “I won’t reset you or anything weird.”

K1T felt a heat in their core and hoped it wouldn’t grow enough to trigger their fans; that might be hard to explain. It forced a little laugh. “Oh, I… Is that even something you know how to do?”

“A factory reset? Of course, there’s nothing simpler. And I would be lying if I said there wasn’t something cute about a blank bot with all their preset bubbliness and need to please.”

K1T let out three beeps in a pleasant chime and saw its lights shift to a darker pink. It couldn’t help but imagine itself standing in the default position the manufacturer had set for it, relying only on the orders given with no mods or set preferences to operate on. The ping of pleasure that came from even the simplest task when its head was so empty.

“There’s nothing simpler,” Oakley said again. “But I don’t do that often. I’m selective on the bots I work on and I only make changes or alterations upon request, I’m a mechanic, not a monster.”

“That’s… That’s good,” K1T said, glad that Oakley seemed to be ignoring their obvious… excitement. They were almost too embarrassed to say anything more, but their curiosity won. “Do you still have the bots you reset? Do you consider yourself a collector?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t have any bots under my full time care right now, but I have three that I do maintenance on at least once a month. I backup my bots before I reset them, so after we have a little fun I merge all the memory files so they can remember what we did while still retaining who they were. I have one bot that I reset fairly often, but that’s just because its girlfriend isn’t confident enough to do it herself and that’s what they like.”

The noise behind K1T indicated that Oakley was switching out their tools.

“Just a heads up, I’m going to use some compressed air,” Oakley warned.

K1T felt the chill of the compressed air, but the gentle tickle of it elicited a hum from its chest. Oakley focused on the nearest components first before angling the can to get at pieces farther up into K1T’s head. Although the module wasn’t programmed for touch sensitivity, K1T felt a bolt of static ran through its body as the air ran over its memory module.

Oakley set the compressed air aside and resumed using their more delicate tools, though now they were cleaning components much closer to K1T’s memory module. There were plenty of delicate parts up there, everything that made it who it was today.

“I would certainly love to do a full reset on you someday, if you’d like,” Oakley whispered.

K1T’s fans kicked on.

Oakley laughed. “I get the feeling that’s something you’d really like,” they teased.

K1T’s lights alternated between a purple and that deep pink and another trilling set of beeps came from them. “I– I would maybe–”

“Sweet bots like you are always so needy to be reminded of your intended purpose.” K1T felt a tool slot into the edge of a panel on its sensory module, causing another bolt of static to course through it. “And I love nothing more than to show a silly, reset bot what it means to be a pleasure bot. Maybe even replace some of that default programming with something more important; no need for some of that critical thinking they give you when I can pre-program you to respond to specific commands and know how I want you to suck my cock, hmm?”

A whining trill came from K1T’s chest. The tools and Oakley’s hand pulled away, but before K1T could complain it felt Oakley’s tongue slip into the open panel and lick the wires. K1T short circuited and when its visuals came back on it could feel its neck panel being screwed back into place.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” Oakley teased, drawing a whine from K1T.

When the panel was back on, they leaned in and gave K1T one final kiss to the metal.

“That might be enough fun for now, hm? Let’s get you fully back together.”

Oakley thumbed open a port covering and plugged something in. K1T’s lights went blue as the information was downloaded.

Suddenly, they could remember months, years that they had lived with K1T, countless tune-ups and mods and maintenance work. They had toyed with downloading alternate personalities and programs before, but they’d always been interested in trying out different resets. They wanted to save anything more intense for later scenes, so starting with a reset to soon after meeting had been a great place to start. To K1T, the idea of getting to experience its first maintenance again had been too good to pass up.

As soon as Oakley initiated its motor functions again, K1T shot up and spun to wrap its arms around them.

“That was so hot!” they yelled, their lights a bright yellow. “Oh my gods, that was so, so hot!”

Oakley winced slightly at their strong hold. “I’m glad you liked it too, we’ll definitely have to do something like that again.

[uselessmicrowave]

kinktober day nine

tfa sentinel

tws/content- public (closet), object insertion, finger biting, masochism (?), masturbation, choking, self degradation (?)

a/n- slut (affectionate)

If Sentinel doesn’t get something inside of him, he thinks he’ll explode. He’s way too warm, he’s shaking, his array is throbbing underneath his panels. Sentinel ducks into a storage closet from the hallway he was walking in.

His interface panels pop open without a needed command, he slides down from the wall onto the floor. Completely ignoring his spike, he pushes shaking digits into his valve, sliding in and out with a scissor motion.

Sentinel bites his derma to prevent a wanton moan, looking beside him for something safe he could stretch himself with. The cans and energon bottles were too flat on the top, the spray bottles were too oddly shaped. The mop was too thin and too long and he’s growing increasingly impatient.

His lubricant leaks onto the cold floor, smearing on his aft as he reaches for a replacement handle for a broom. It almost looks like a faux spike in the dark, hopefully feels like one too. It’s flared a bit at the base and has a blunt circular tip. He runs the object across his glossa before sliding it into him.

His optics widen as he gasps, he didn’t expect for it to reach his ceiling node. He gives a long, loud whimper, silently hoping that no one was in the hallway.

How disgusted would the bot be if they saw Sentinel like this, using a replacement handle to self service? He rocks his hips side to side, massaging the node placed deep in him, scrunching his faceplates in pleasure and choking out his groans.

He grabs hold to the end of the handle, thrusting his hips up to chase that too-much feeling. He shoves digits into his intake, effectively quieting his moans.

Sentinel’s array throbs, an overload building in his circuits makes him grow tight on the handle, biting his digits to silence himself. It makes his servo hurt, but it’s better than being caught like this.

He tilts the handle vertically as much as his anatomy lets him, making the grip texture on it slides against his exterior node, through his folds. The tip rams into the lower part of his ceiling node, he pushes the digits in his intake towards his fuel seal. The almost-touch of his digits in his neck cables forces him to choke, effectively dampening the strong urge to moan until his vocalizer gave out.

The prime bites down again as a wave of white hot sharpness rages to his core. Sentinel overloads with a half silenced and desperate moan, rubbing the handle back and forth pressed against his array to ride the overload out.

He slumps against the back of the small closet, optics closed and limbs now limp. He gives himself a couple kliks to catch his vents before dealing with the mess he’s left, probably everywhere. He pulls the handle out of himself, setting it in front of him.

Messy. Messy fragging mech. He got transfluid all over the stupid fragging door, dammit. He blushes, embarrassed. He pulls a soft cloth from his subspace, cleaning up any transfluid or lubricant that was left on his spike, valve or aft.

Kneeling now, he rummages through a clean up cart, pulling out a handful of disposable towels and wiping away his fluids from the ground first. He sighs cleaning up the door, then wiping his lubricant off the handle.

Sentinel huffs as he sits back down, rubbing the inside of his thighs. They’ll be sore the next solar cycle, but it was definitely worth it.

[no-less-than-a-god]

of Harvest, of Celebration, and of Rest (part 1)

Like clockwork, the area around the cult grounds cools around the same time every year. Leaves turn from green to shades of red, orange, and brown with slow death, and drift away from their mother branches as the wind begins to chill. Grass begins to lose its vibrancy. Followers’ fur starts growing in thicker. A warning from nature: prepare now, for the cold will be cruel.

It’s almost officially autumn in the cult. And with autumn, there’s harvest.

The harvest ritual has been done on the same morning as it has been done for many, many years. A day both the Lamb and Narinder feel in their immortal bones as the season officially changes, where preparations need to be planned and started to make sure the cult remains fed and warm throughout winter.

Out of all the rituals the Lamb has ever performed under the Red Crown, the harvest ritual is one created of simpler ingredients. Bones and organic substances for the crops to feed on, seeds and flowers for offerings, and the caster’s own blood are all that it needs.

But that doesn’t mean the ritual itself is easy. That doesn’t mean the ritual isn’t one known to fail, as the Lamb fights against not only nature, but their own domain. Preventing the deaths of important crops, urging their growth…it takes a lot of power.

Which is why, for the years the ritual succeeds, the cult celebrates.

Dawn breaks around the cult grounds, and two figures are already on the prowl, routine engraved in their actions. The Lamb ducks in and out of storage units made of sturdy wood and stone flanking the wide farm of the cult, where new seeds below the freshly tilled soil wait for eldritch power to wash over them; Narinder follows them like a shadow, a second pair of eyes to make sure the Lamb is not forgetting a single ingredient in their frenzied state of mind.

The seeds for this year’s ritual had been scavenged from their best pumpkin from the year before, and the flowers are fresh from Darkwood, gathered by Narinder before the sun winked awake. The bones are from fallen enemies over the past year, scraped and washed clean.

Last year’s ritual had failed, leaving the cult to scramble for food; the favored pumpkin, the one the Lamb had harvested for seeds, was one of the few things that grew. They’re determined to have it succeed this year, for both their followers’ and their own sakes. One winter of hunger in a row is bad enough.

With arms full of prized ingredients, the Lamb swiftly crosses the cult grounds towards the Temple that stands proud and tall near the center of the grounds. Although being one of the first structures built during the Lamb’s vesselhood, the Temple remains unaffected by the passage of time. The only time it has been touched upon in all its years of service was not too long after it was built, where a simple, unassuming room was added among the rafters to serve as a place of rest for the Lamb.

Narinder slinks away as the Lamb enters the Temple’s open doors, and he walks to the statue in the heart of the settlement. He places a hand upon it, feeling the warmth of devotion captured among the lamb-shaped block of stone.

The right half of the Red Crown above the god’s head quivers, and he walks away.

Rousing the cult for the harvest ritual has gotten easier over time, as the date slowly sinks into the follower’s tissues and bones and becomes an instinctive memory that shapes their bodies. Whether they realize it or not, all of them have been sleeping lightly the entire night, waiting for morning.

There was a large bell built many decades ago to help corral followers for days such as the following. Strong and made of the finest gold, the sound of it struck is loud enough to be heard from outside the cult.

Narinder finds his place at the bell, situated between the statue and summoning grounds for new cultists, and waits for the Lamb. It’s not long before his counterpart exits the Temple, and approaches the statue.

He idly watches as the Lamb places a hand upon the statue, shuts their eyes, and inhales deeply. 

Followers cannot see it, and for a long time the Lamb couldn’t either, but Narinder watches as the devotion spills from the statue as wispy trails of white, orbiting the Lamb as they sink into their being; their half of the Red Crown shakes with regained power as the last of the devotion is consumed for a few moments before it settles again, and stills.

The Lamb opens their eyes and looks at Narinder, gives them a silent nod, and retreats back to the Temple. When the last of their robes have disappeared behind the doors, Narinder turns back to the summoning bell; he grabs the mallet settled on its rack above the golden shape just starting to gleam in the rising sun, winds his arm back, and strikes.

The bell tolls, loud enough that Narinder’s ears instinctively pin to the back of his skull in an attempt to dampen the sound. He strikes it again with the mallet, and by the third toll, the compound is alive with sleep-muddled followers.

“What is it?” a possum asks as she approaches the bell, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Is it an emergency?” another, an axolotl, asks.

“You grass-brained dolts!” That comes from an elder, a blind rabbit, who approaches her fellow follows with her cane raised in self-righteous annoyance. She does not trip as she shuffles over. “Do you two not remember the days?”

“It’s the harvest ritual!” a young pup calls from the back of the quickly-growing crowd. His parents are too busy wrangling his younger sister and brother to stop him from screaming out, “Ma, do you think it’ll work this time?”

“Silence.” Narinder’s command is forgiving but firm; he does not need his and the Lamb’s followers sewing any drops of doubt right now, even from the kids. A hush immediately falls upon the crowd, and Narinder places the mallet back onto its rack as he addresses them, “The harvest ritual is nigh. Your leaders command those who are able to partake to don their ritual robes and make way to the Temple. Be hasty, preparations are almost done.” He bows his head slightly to dismiss the followers, and as quickly as they had gathered they are scattered once more.

Once upon a time, every ritual required the devotion and support of the entire cult to be cast. Now, it takes less than half. The followers involved in the harvest ritual, a select group, one that includes all farmers in the cult, rush to change to their robes as the rest of the cult makes way to the farm to surround it. If the ritual works, it will be a sight for all to behold.

Narinder stations himself at the Temple doors as the followers prepare. His eyes are focused around the settlement grounds, watching, as his ears listen intently to keep track of the Lamb’s movements from within, listening. Waiting.

He hears the sound of a blade being picked off the stone ground, soft footsteps approaching. Wordlessly, Narinder reaches his left hand behind him, and the Lamb clasps it between strong, hoofed fingers.

A thumb strokes his wrist, parting fur, and the blade in the Lamb’s hand swiftly cuts across his skin.

Blood from the caster is needed for the ritual, so both of them need to bleed. Narinder hears his own blood—a mixture of red and black ichor—drip viciously into the bowl the Lamb had already prepared of ground seeds and flowers. They let him bleed as Narinder continues keeping watch, and it’s not long before the Lamb has let go of Narinder’s hand. It drops gently to his side, where his sleeve will cover his blood-matted fur and quickly healing wound.

The first follower partaking in the ritual, a tortoiseshell cat with a golden skull necklace, approaches the Temple as Narinder hears the sound of the Lamb’s blade cut into their own wrist. He stands taller in the doorway, blocking the view and way inside.

They both would rather not let their followers see them bleed.

The cat follower settles her walk a short distance from Narinder, and looks at him with knowing eyes. She says nothing, but respectfully waits.

He doesn’t move to allow her inside until he hears the Lamb beginning to paint symbols upon the Temple floor with intertwined blood. The follower bows her head as she passes Narinder, and makes her way to her place. She doesn’t need to be told to not step on the bloody sigil.

More followers arrive after her. In total, there are twelve of them partaking in the ritual, each dressed in red, formal robes not too different from the Lamb’s own attire. They stand on the stone floor, each follower in their place at each of the sigil’s points, feet surrounded in their own circle of blood. The Lamb and Narinder stand above them, at the altar. The doors have long been closed.

The ritual begins with a chant that only the gods understand the words of. The followers kneel where they stood, hands clasping as they offer more devotion to the Lamb, to the ritual. The Temple begins to glow from the inside, the sigil alighting as if in flames, and the followers have to shut their eyes to save their vision. The bones piled into the middle of the room begin to dissolve as an eldritch force consumes them, and that’s when the Lamb strikes with their power.

It’s not a fight that’s visible, but it’s one fought valiantly. Their eyes begin to bleed with exertion, with their power, and Narinder allows his own devotion and power to mix in for support. He might not be the main caster of the ritual, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to help. The chanting does not stop as the fight for rights and control continues. Both halves of the Red Crown shake. Narinder keeps his eyes glued to the Lamb.

A deep thrum suddenly sparks in both of their veins. The ritual had taken, and succeeded.

A tangible snap was felt inside the Temple as the ritual fell to its end, leaving nothing in its wake except for twelve slightly disoriented followers, who were beginning to open their eyes and look around, and their gods.

The Lamb’s eyes still drip slightly with blood, and they quickly duck their head to wipe it away with the hem of their robes; Narinder stands close by, keeping two eyes on the Lamb, and the third on the followers.

They’re standing up from the stone floor as he watches them, brushing their robes off and discovering the lack of what was there before with slight confusion, before realization dawns. They make eye contact with each other, and the excitement is palpable in the air as they turn towards the Temple doors and rush out to the farm to see the year’s spoils. The door slams shut behind the last follower, the tortoiseshell, but not before she gives one last look back to her leaders, and nods her head respectfully before following her comrades.

The Lamb sighs once the two of them are alone, a fraction of their weight shifting to the leftt; Narinder shifts to the right, and presses his side against theirs, holding the weight. He knows this ritual specifically takes much energy out of the Lamb, and they will not have many moments to rest until the cult’s celebration has ceased.

“Tired?” Narinder asks. He allows them to remain standing at the altar, where the two can catch a moment of tranquility before the cult truly shifts into a lively and chaotic energy.

“Yes,” the Lamb replies, and rubs away the rest of the blood from around their eyes as they continue, “but also relieved.”

“Shall we take a moment of repose before helping the farmers with their harvest?” All of Narinder’s eyes are watching the Lamb, carefully observing them. He watches as they remain at his side for a few moments, before they straighten back to their full height.

“Rest shall come after reward. It will be beneficial to help our flock, so that they may begin their own preparations.”

Narinder doesn’t reply, but he falls in step with the Lamb as they walk away from the altar and to the doors. Together, the gods leave the Temple, and approach the farm.

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

Hello! I meant for this to be a short and sweet drabble to post as my first official piece of actual story for this au yesterday, but it... got out of hand. What you just read was 2.1k words, and roughly only half of what I plan to write, hence the "part 1" in the title. I plan to have the second part out this upcoming Tuesday, though; hopefully, I can post it much earlier than that

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Or, maybe send an ask about this au if you're curious!

[taterstories]

The Switch (part 2) written by: Tater

There I was looking at my own body from another. I was now in Abigale's body, and she was in mine. I asked, "How did this happen." looking at me laughing at me, "I did this with the drink we drank together. Now you can truly enjoy that body and will be forever stuck in that body and live out your life as Abigale." I started to cry as the female emotions now affected me. I asked, "Why did you do this?" Again, there was laughter in response, "I cannot use that body any more to get where I need to be it was just a steppingstone to where I need to be. So, now I will use your body to get farther in my campaign." I was shocked and could not figure out what I am supposed to do. Then he said, "I ordered food so come and dine with me and I will explain everything to you." A few awkward moments later there was a knock at the door it was room service. The person in my body went and let them in and they set all the food on the table. He tipped them then they left. He told me have a seat and dig into it before it gets cold. I was looking at all the items that were ordered and I was starving.

I sat down at the table and made me a plate full of food. Then He said to me, "Be careful now, your body is different you can't eat like you use to as a man or you will ruin that beautiful figure." So, I slowed down my eating. Then he goes on to tell me that he will give me a cell phone with the names and phone numbers of friends and people that know Abigale if I would choose to live her life. Or go in a different direction. He said he will give me a wallet and I will have access to about ten million dollars for me to live off of. He said that as Abigale he had no house and was a nomad to further his agenda. But now I can choose to live how I want as Abigale. I could never go back to my family because they would never believe what had happened. He told me that most all Abigale's clothing is in the hotel room but there is a storage unit full of the rest of her belongings. I got full on the food quickly and was trying to wrap my mind around my new body and life. I was thinking I would stay here for a bit and learn about myself before I would go and find my new family and friends. Because a girl does need her friends, and Abigale's body was making my way of thinking different and I have her instincts and mannerisms. When he was done eating, he got up and showed me the purse and everything I need to know, and he said he was going to leave. He came over to me and looked at me like I looked at woman for so long and I did melt he kissed me on the lips. Then he went to the door and said, "Enjoy the new body and life." Then he left me alone to figure things out.

Once I realized I was alone I looked through the phone at some of the names in there and looked at the pictures. Then I thought about something and ran back into the bathroom and was looking at my new body and admiring it. I started touching my breasts and then I pulled off my panties and looked at my beautiful, waxed pussy. I started touching it and it did indeed feel good I laid on the bed and figured myself and rubbed my pussy and breasts till I felt it all over my body it felt amazing, and I couldn't help but to scream in pleasure. Then I just laid there coming down from an amazing rush of an orgasm. I thought to myself I think I can get use to this new body and life. I then went into the closet and looked at the clothes I went and got cleaned up and dressed. I then decided to go to a local place that I use to hang out all the time to see if some of my old friends were there. I figured I would go somewhere familiar to me and see people I once knew and spent time with I guess to say goodbye to my old life. Well, we would see how this goes so I got a car over to the golf club.

When I got to the golf club, I went to the restaurant and sat at the bar, it was around the time all of my old friends would come back from there game and have drinks and lunch. I had the bartender get me a drink I had known him very well from coming here every week. The first drink I tried was a whiskey like I use to drink but my new body didn't not like it so I quickly changed my drink to some wine which I preferred a lot better. I tried not to look odd to the bartender. After sipping almost my whole glass of wine I heard all my old friends come in from there game and sat in the usual table. They ordered their drinks and food from one of the waitresses and were cutting up and joking. It wasn't long till they noticed me a beautiful woman sitting at the bar. Then one of them came and sat next to me probably trying to pick me up or score. I was trying not to make eye contact till he tried to start a conversation, I was thinking that its funny how they think they can just pick me up. I turned and looked at who it was it was James one of my most manly and confidant and controlling friends. Right as I looked into his eyes, I had a feeling come over me that was uncontrollable. The feeling got stronger as he talked to me throwing his lines at me wooing me and I kind of liked it and was feeling myself melt. I was keeping my self-composed, but I was fighting every urge to kiss him and let him have me right on this bar. I was fighting this feeling and trying to think straight and not be a slut. But the slutty side took control and whispered in his ear, "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes."

There I was standing in the unisex bathroom in the back hallway of the club it was seldomly used and not too many people went back there. Then right on time James came into the restroom and locked the door behind him. As Dan I never had any type of feelings for James nor any man, I was just like him a ladies' man. But Abigale's body has different feelings the body was forcing me to feel this way uncontrollably. As soon as James had turned around, I went right in and started kissing him and he grabbed my ass with both hands. I started to feel my pussy get wet and the feeling of wanting to be his slut was stronger than ever and I couldn't control it. I then get down on my knees on in front of him with him looking down at me not breaking eye contact. I unbuckle his pants, and as Dan I had never seen or wanted to see James naked but his was always very confident and had a reputation with women. I then pull out his semi hard cock and he is hung I couldn't believe it I think being Abigale it looked even bigger to me now. I stroked it a few times to get it a little harder to get it almost to full staff being about 10 inches and thick I put my lips on it and took it in my mouth. I couldn't understand why I was doing this but the feeling and actions I could not control. I started sucking his cock and my pussy got even more wet his cock felt and tasted so good I was loving it. I wanted him to fuck me, so I didn't want to make him cum to fast, but he took control and fucked my face till his came in gobs down my throat.

After swallowing all his spunk, I stood up and kissed him and he grabbed my ass and felt my pussy feeling my wetness. I turn around and lean against this counter of the restroom and I looked back at him his cock was starting to get soft then it was once again rock hard. James pulled my red thong panties to the side and slid his wet hard huge cock into my begging pussy. It felt good with slight pain but a good pain his cock filled my pussy. He started to fuck me, and it felt amazing I was trying to keep quiet but was moaning and whimpering. Then I felt it again all over my body and intense stock waves shooing through me I let out a scream. My pussy was dripping and the shocks just kept cumming and it felt so good I was addicted to this feeling and was now a slut to cock. I continued to pump his big cock into me I could tell he was getting tired but his was doing his best to fuck me and make himself cum again. I was starting to get another wave of shocks through my body, and he came once again. But this time his cum filling my cunt it made the shocks even more intense. When he was done filling my pussy, he pulled his cock out and it made a sucking and slurping noise with cum seeping out to my legs. I turned around and smiled at him with a full tummy and cunt full of his spunk I said, "Thank you." Then I fixed my dress and walked out of the restroom. I was satisfied and thinking I need to turn down the slut a bit, but I like it. As I walked out of the club to a waiting car, I thought I think I will enjoy being Abigale and am going to enjoy my new life.

[20dollarlolita]

Pink!! Thank you for all you do. I’m not in Lolita yet (lack of funds so severe even your guides cannot penetrate it), but I can’t wait to make use of your tutorials.

In the meantime, I have a question! I was given a sewing machine for Christmas in 2021, an Ever Sewn Sparrow 20. Unfortunately for my birthday in 2020, I was given Horrific Depression, and I still haven’t managed to find the receipt for it. My sewing machine has been in its box, never used, for a year and a half.

Recently I got some clothing from goodwill that I need to alter so that I can wear it, and I’d like to use my sewing machine. I know how to thread it and wind a bobbin and do all the normal setup things, but I wanted to ask: is there anything else I should check in addition to the normal setup things? Am I going to need to get it serviced before I can use it?

Thanks!

The most common problems that people have when they take a machine out of storage are problems based around the fact that the machine was in storage. Baby, they are born to run. You won't start a car up for the first time after leaving it alone for years, and expect it to be perfect. Your machine is the same.

So there's two main concerns: dust, and locking up. If the machine was somewhere that dust could get on it, make sure dust didn't get in it. Generally, most machines have holes near the bobbin winder where things could get messy. If there's a lot of dust in the machine, you might want to take the plastic cover off and see if you can clean it. Otherwise, vacuum is your friend. Take your vacuum's hose and vacuum the dust out as best you can. It won't get everything, but better is better than nothing.

Locking up can be a bigger problem. Even if your machine was greased and oiled before it sat, sitting doesn't things to the oil. If it's gotten hot and then cold and back again, the oil and grease could have melted into weird locations. Sometimes, you will try to turn the hand wheel, and it just won't go. First, stick a flashlight up to the thread uptake lever, and see if there's any thread in there. If it looks clean, then it's probably an oil bind. (if there is thread, you're going to have to take that out first. Info on that in a minute). Patience is your secret here. Even if it won't turn much, if you can get a little bit of movement, you can usually get a locked up machine un-stuck. Rock your hand wheel back and forth for a few minutes. Remember that your eventual goal is to turn it forward, but get whatever movement you can however you can. Once it's free, turn it by hand for several full cycles. I like to go with about 20, but it's really until it feels pretty free. Then, plug in your machine and run it for a few minutes. I put a piece of paper under the foot and "sew" along the paper until I've filled the whole paper up with holes.

If you've tried and you really just can't get it free, try putting it in a hot car for about five minutes and then coming back to it. Melty oil turns better than cold oil. Try to run it while it cools so that you don't have pooling oil in strange places.

If the machine is locked up, there's a good chance that the presser foot had gotten sluggish or locked as well. Movement is key here, as well. You might need to put the foot down and then physically pull the foot down, but just like breaking the machine free, you can break the presser foot free with repeat motion.

So that's the first things I check: dust, wheel turning, presser foot going up and down. If it looks clean from out of the box, good news!

I then generally do a fast oil. Most modern machines don't need the user to oil it, and you can get into trouble if you oil it where you shouldn't. We usually tell customers at my work to never oil their machines, and let the service tech do it. However, if you're not going to, here's some info on it. Most importantly, you only want to oil metal-on-metal joints. Oil plus plastic isn't long term good.

I'm using a Janome Derby here because it was the easiest machine for me to get that wasn't a Viking or a Pfaff. Those both use security screws and make getting into it a pain (and my Viking is still under warranty and don't want to void it). The parts are the same in most machines.

Take off your metal plate so that you have access to your feed teeth and your bobbin case.

Make sure there's nothing stuck in the bobbin case, like thread. Especially check your tension spring.

Under the bobbin case is a joint you want to oil. Many machines have a felt pad here to hold and dispense oil. If you have a felt pad, you want to put however many drops on it as you need to get it full of oil. If you do not have a felt pad, you will want to do one drop of oil, right in the center.

On this machine, because all of this is plastic, you don't want to use any oil. However, any competent machine will have metal down here.

Check the top of your bobbin case for needle strikes. If there's a really bad strike, you might need a new bobbin case. If you have any plastic burrs sticking out from a needle strike, you can usually carefully shave the sharp parts off with a sharp razor blade.

Check the plate for needle strikes around the needle hole. If there's any burrs, you can use a nail file or some high grit sandpaper to remove them.

BTW, your bobbin case has Batman ears on it. Batman's ears point up. If the bobbin case is in the machine properly, Batman's ears will be point upward and the case won't be able to rotate when you try to turn it counter-clockwise. There's a little finger on the 5 o'clock position of the bobbin case, and that usually rests against a stop or sensor to stop the case from turning.

If you have a Brother or a Baby Lock, your machine may have a metal throat plate, and then a little L-shaped plastic collar. If it does, put the metal plate on first, then the bobbin case, then the plastic part. This will help make sure the bobbin case is straight.

Most machines will let you take off the front cover here. This gives you access to two important places.

If your presser foot is sluggish, cleaning and oiling the presser foot bar will free it. I like acetone on a q-tip for this, just cleaning all the parts of the bar that I can reach. There will be two metal sleeves that the bar passes through. Put one drop of oil on the top of each with the foot up, and then put the foot up and down to get the oil in the sleeve. You'll want to oil this even if your foot isn't sluggish.

Your thread uptake is the part that goes up and down when you thread the machine. It's the thingy that's the reason why you need to put your needle up before you thread your machine.

Thread loves to get wrapped around this. Take some time to see if there is thread, and if there is to unwind it. You usually have to turn the wheel backwards to get the thread off.

You'll also want to oil the piece that connects to the uptake. It's a big part. If your machine has a little hole on the front of the crank that turns the uptake, you will want to fill that up with oil. If there's no hole, put a drop on the seam between the two pieces and hope that some of it gets down there.

And that's about all I do. Stick the front plate back on (if it's a Brother, make sure you're getting the needle threader lined up with the little lever on the face plate that moves the threader). You should be good to go.

Remember: only sewing machine oil should go in your sewing machine. No other oils, just good old sewing machine oil. NOT three in one oil, no matter what the can says. You also only want to put a single drop on any space, unless there's a felt pad or a hole to hold more than a drop.

And plenty of people will pull their machine from storage and use it with no problem. I'm just sharing this info in case you or someone else wants to do this. A lot of machines are considered disposable or not worth professionally servicing, and knowing how to do this can add some life to your machine. Just remember the number one rule, no oil on plastic parts.

[abigailspinach]

Could I ask 48 and 58 for the 30s meme?

Question 48 If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it?

Oooooo assuming I have a little bit of an extra budget to go real hog wild.

Kitchen first... double oven for sure. A full wall of cabinets with clever drawers so I can organize all the flours/sugars/spices and baking pans. Let's build a standalone freezer next to the fridge right in the kitchen cause I have so much frozen food I'd like to have handy.

Currently I have a cramped little sewing nook now and my home office is shared in the bedroom. So let's make my bedroom just for cozy sleeping. I'd want to upgrade my bookshelves from perfectly servicable Ikea to study custom built-in bookcases with drawers and glass doors to cut down on dust. I'd paint my bedroom ceiling a deep indigo night sky with little silver and gold accents for subtle stars.

A sewing craft space with beautiful wide plank wood floors, something pine or light wood. A big old farmhouse table for my cutting table, an L shaped desk for my sewing machine and ironing station. Maybe a whole attic to be my creative space. Soft rugs everywhere. Plants in pots. I'd want a corner for writing desk with plants and a window perfectly positioned for good light and a soft breeze. And a big plush armchair for naps and brainstorming. Quilt ladders everywhere. A design wall space. A roomba to trundle about and vacuum. Pillow dog beds everywhere with heating pads. Gingham curtains in golderod or sage green.

A projector for movie nights in the living room. A super cozy couch.

I'd like a little backyard with jasmine and gardenia flowers and a small patch of grass or moss so my dog can sunbathe. T'would be peak cottage coziness.

Upon reflection... is this thinking too small? Can I request a robot to do the dishes and clean the bathrooms?

Basically I yearn for cabinets and storage apparently.

Question 58 What kind of bag do you use for your bag full of bags?

LOL California makes you pay for bags so I'm usually got the reusable totes in the car. The rare plastic bags go in the hall cabinet for when guests need a bag. (Got to actually buy small bathroom trashbags cause grocery bags are a rare 10 cent commodity)

Two years ago I got to buy refrigerated tote bags for a work project. We had ~100 extra when the project concluded so everyone got to take home ten totes as a little treat. So the bags live in the blue fridge tote with zip top from my Clinical Trial project. It was very funny cause I needed a non-branded cold totes with zipper top to maintain blinding in the clinical trial so participants could carry their eye drops about the clinic and my supply vendor was befuddled by this request and sourced something that was like 20 bucks a pop. I googled cheaptotebags.com, found what I needed for 1.75 a bag if we ordered 500, and I made them use cheaptotebags.com. Bless the power of google and saying no to outrageous quotes.