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celaenaeiln · 2 months ago

Note

Small scenario ask:

A kid version of Robin!Dick gets teleported into the present day of the DCU, in particular during one of those times that Batfamily are split up and at each other’s throats with only Tim(my) and Alfred sort of trying to keep the peace.

They don’t know he’s present until he jumps in from out of nowhere to help the Batfamily take on a Scarecrow attack.

How would they react to this tiny version of Dick and his more chipper and lively attitude especially once he starts asking Batman if these other guys around them are their allies or something?

OMG I AM SO EXCITEEDD!!

THE FUNNY THING IS IVE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TOPIC SEPARATELY IN MY HEAD!!

Not this exact scenario but just like how much Dick has changed over the years.

This is SUCH a good fanfic idea!!!

Okay so Dick would jumps into the future where the whole family is fighting and all of a sudden, a brightly colored boy just "POP"'s into the dark batcave.

Everyone at that point had been growling and snarling and screaming at each other over ethics and morals and course of action for a case that devolved into tearing at family lines and loyalties.

The tensions are high and no one is on anyone's side because as united as the batfamily is, they are just as divided.

They're seconds from coming to blows when - pop (goes the weasel. lol jk) - a 3 foot 2'' boy in the most canary yellow cape, scarlet vest, and emerald green scaled shorts blinks into existence.

The batfamily immediately goes for their weapons at the sound and most barely refrain from throwing them at the sight of a boy but some weapons slip out people's hands too fast for them stop.

They watch with their hearts in their throats and move as one to prevent it, their minds barely registering the sight in front of them, the only thought in their heads is - STOP! As if mere words could halt assailing weapons hurtling at breakneck speeds towards the child.

They've barely started moving when the small child - he couldn't have been taller than Batman's hip at the height he was - suddenly bounced on his right foot and used the moment to twirl horizontally in the air. The brilliant yellow cape swirled around his body as he turned, almost acting like a cocoon. The batarang sailed underneath their twirling body while two knives sliced the air harmlessly above him, all three weapons embedding themselves soundlessly into the cave walls behind him.

The batfamily makes an aborted move forward, halting in their tracks as the imminent danger passed and the walking traffic light of a child uses their split-second of decision to stop to take the time to gracefully land on his toes before flipping far out of reach. His back arched back into a perfect elegant little backflips which absolutely should not be possible or done so smoothly for a boy as young as he, but the kid manages anyway to land perched on a railing from the upper batcave level, looking down at them from his spot.

Duke glanced around to see if the rest of them had seen the same thing he did. Clearly not because Bruce, Tim, and Alfred looked like they'd seen a ghost. Jason and Damian looked grudgingly impressed. Steph looked openly impressed.

"So, we’ve got surprise visitors, huh? Gee, swell! You folks friends of B? Wait a sec-that can’t be right. B doesn’t have any friends except for me!" The kid chirped - and Duke swore, honest to god, chirped - with a cheeky grin, hands on his hips like he'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.

Duke just stood there, mouth slightly open, like his soul had momentarily left his body. The kid’s mask squinted as if narrowing his eyes at Bruce.

Duke blinked hard. Am I hallucinating? Did I eat bad takeout? He thought.

Bruce, meanwhile, stood frozen, looking like he was wondering where in his life he went wrong.

“Gee whiz, mister, I don’t mean to jump to conclusions or nothin’, but it’s kinda bad manners to go borrowin’ somebody else’s clothes without asking first!” He gave Bruce an exaggerated once-over, the grin on his face making it clear he wasn’t intimidated in the least. “I mean, that cape looks swell and all, but it isn't exactly screaming ‘your size,’ ya know?”

He tilted his head and piped up, “A friend of Catwoman’s?” His voice was light, full of curiosity and mischief.

Jason suddenly snorted. "A friend of Catwoman's, alright."

Cass gently smiled. Duke suspected she had known from the beginning who he was and thus had not moved a muscle during the chaos. Duke couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t because of uncertainty. Nope, Cass had known. She always knew.

He sighed internally. Why was he always the last to catch on to these Batfamily mysteries? On the other hand, maybe he should be grateful. He was still wiping off the remaining sludge off his suit from the last batfamily mayhap.

"Dick?" Bruce’s voice was raw, breaking apart as if it couldn’t decide whether to hope or mourn. It was the sound of disbelief and desperate longing, the kind of ache you didn’t just hear—you felt it. Duke’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what it must mean to Bruce, but the pain was so thick it was almost unbearable.

"Who are you, mister?" Dick - holy fuck that was Dick. Wait- Duke whipped his head around. Where was their Dick?!

Tim was looking a little peaky in Duke's opinion and that was saying something since the other guy always looked pale.

Bruce raised a shaking hand to his cowl, dragging it down the back of his head almost looking like he wanted to do anything but. "Bruce. It's me, Bruce."

"I know you're a guy who looks like Bruce, but you're not my Bruce."

If his kids' previous deaths hadn't killed Bruce, then that one single sentence did, Duke thought, watching the man.

He saw a flicker of something break inside Bruce. The hardened mask Bruce wore cracked, revealing the raw, vulnerable man beneath. It was like hearing the one thing he feared most—that he wasn’t enough for them—and the way it pierced him was brutal. The light left Bruce's eyes for a moment, and Duke could almost feel the weight of that rejection.

It probably hurts to hear it from an 8 year old version of a person that adored you. Duke realized sadly. He wasn't there for Dick's childhood with the man - none of them were - but he was sure it wasn't called the Golden Ages by everyone for show by all those who had known them then.

"Wait, Alfred?" Dick asked, boring holes into the elderly butler.

So, he recognizes the same Alfred but not Bruce? Duke fought back a hysterical laugh. That's gotta sting. Sorry, man. Duke sent a silent prayer to the man who looked like he didn't know if he was going to start sobbing or glaring daggers.

Alfred cleared his throat, rather wetly in Duke's opinion. "Yes, son." He said and smiled warmly.

The boy gave a hoot of laughter that sent the bats in a flurry as he threw himself off the railing. Steph and Jason scrambled to catch him but mini-Dick (Duke was still half-panicking over where big-Dick went. Big-Dick. Haha) hopped onto Jason's shoulder used Stephanie's back as a personalized springboard and landed happily in Alfred's arms.

He hugged the man's neck like it was a plush toy and Alfred tightly held the boy with one arm under his thighs and the other around his waist.

Duke noted with no small amount of surprise that Dick perceptively didn't point of Alfred's suspiciously wet eyes and near-silent sniffling. It was damn loud for the cave though.

"Hey, did you whip up some cookies? I gotta say, that casserole’s a real knock-out, and your filet mignon? Spot on! Say, after we chow down, how about a rousing game of badminton? I’m on fire today! Let’s shake a leg, have some fun, and see who’s got the best swing!"

"Of course, Master Dick." Alfred said and the two continued conversing as Alfred carried the boy up the stairs of the batcave.

"Say, did you get to the next chapter of Lady in the Lake? I gotta tell ya, there's something fishy goin' on there, like a real gumshoe mystery. I can smell a twist coming a mile away, like a crook with a bad alibi! Whaddya think? There’s more to this dame than meets the eye, I betcha!"

Dick's voice faded as the rest of them dumbfoundedly realized they needed to follow after the two of them. Except for Cass, of course, who was already tugging a stiff Stephanie along.

Duke couldn’t help notice Tim. The guy was practically glowing in the corner like he was about to faint, his face flush with excitement. Duke knew all about Tim’s obsession with Grayson—Steph had spilled enough gossip to fill a novel. Tim had ranted about Dick for years, quoting everything from his acrobatics to his smile. But now, seeing the younger version of Grayson in front of him? Tim was this close to passing out. His eyes were practically sparkles. If there were stars in the Batcave, they were all shining in Tim’s eyes.

“Tim, dude, you alright?” Duke teased, but Tim couldn’t even form words. He just gave a thumbs-up so exaggerated it might as well have come with a marching band soundtrack.

Duke couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was acting a little… off. The usually fierce, unflappable kid was clearly trying to maintain his tough exterior, but Duke could see the subtle signs. The way Damian’s eyes flicked over to Dick with just a hint of nervousness, his stance rigid, like he was bracing for something, but not quite sure what.

"Is it just me, or is Dick an absurdly happy kid?" Duke suddenly spoke, thinking about Dick's demeanor. The older Dick Grayson was so strict and while he joked, there wasn't a free-hearted levity in him that his child version carried.

The kid had been practically shining, bouncing around the Batcave as if it were his personal playground. This was the same kid who had grown into the stoic, responsible, and sometimes brooding Nightwing. The difference was like night and day. Duke could see the weight of the years had changed him, and as he watched this boy, full of energy and warmth, he realized just how much had been lost. This wasn't the Dick they all knew. This was a Dick that had never seen the kind of pain that had hardened him into the man they looked up to.

It was a version of Dick they would never witness - laughing so freely, so full of life - one that was locked away in Bruce's heart, his memories paying tribute to their god-like figure he'd embellished of their brother.

It was a homage Bruce had unknowingly clung to and fed into, and a part of Duke wondered how much of this Dick, too, had buried inside himself.

Duke felt an ache in his bones, realizing just how much was buried under the weight of Dick’s current life. The boy before him was a ghost of the past that no one would ever get back.

Jason groaned. "One depressing revelation at a time, Duke." He stomped his way up the stairs followed by near swooning Tim, and an anxious Damian.

Bruce hadn't moved an inch. It was as if the air around him had thickened, suffocating both of them with tension. Bruce, usually so composed, was now locked in a frozen tableau of silent agony. His face was unreadable, but his eyes - Duke could see them - betrayed a terrible storm. Guilt, loss, and a deep, unspoken grief. The kind of grief that didn’t make noise but settled in your bones and dragged you under.

But Duke was The Signal. He was the Light, that's what his emblem meant. While Bruce was drowning in his own anguish, Duke could not afford to drown with him. So he patted the man on the back and followed his brothers up the stairs, readying himself for more horrifying realizations about the loss of innocence and joy from their favorite brother.

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arkofangels · 13 days ago

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Don't wait up

Summary: In the heart of Gotham, you juggle the pressures of your final year at college and your prestigious Wayne Tech internship while sharing a cramped apartment with your chaotic but well-meaning roommate, Mia. A quiet night in quickly takes a turn when Jason Todd—your elusive criminology classmate—crashes, quite literally, onto your fire escape, wounded and bleeding.

a/n: slight swearing, mention of blood/injury, not proofread I wrote this half-asleep

ch.2

You never thought Gotham would be home. Not really. It was a pit stop, a means to an end, a place where you could work, grind, and claw your way toward a future that didn’t involve dimly lit apartments and the constant hum of sirens outside your window. But Wayne Tech’s internship program was too good to pass up, and now, here you were—sharing a cramped studio apartment with Mia, your chaos-loving, party-going, endlessly exasperating roommate.

Mia was a hurricane, a whirlwind of bad decisions and infectious energy that somehow made life feel a little less bleak. She had a way of pulling you into her orbit, dragging you to bars, forcing you to meet new people, reminding you that there was more to life than deadlines and high-stakes projects. But tonight? Tonight, you needed quiet. Needed stillness. Needed a break from everything and everyone.

You curled up on your bed, cradling a mug of tea as lavender-scented air from your diffuser wrapped around you. The new semester was already stretching you thin—your grades had slipped last year, and you weren’t about to let that happen again. You had a plan. Study. Work. Graduate. Get the hell out of Gotham.

And then the window rattled.

The sound wasn’t loud, not at first, but something about it sent a spike of unease through you. The city had its own rhythm, its own sounds—the low thrum of traffic, the occasional shout in the distance, the ever-present hum of life pressing against the glass. But this? This was different. A sudden impact. A groan of metal under weight.

You turned, heart in your throat, just in time to see a shadow slump against the fire escape. A hand smeared red streaks across the glass, and beyond it stood the last person you’d ever expect to see in this part of the city.

Jason Todd.

You knew him. Or rather, you knew of him. The quiet guy in your criminology class who always sat in the back, never spoke unless called on, and somehow still managed to answer everything perfectly. The guy with the sharp eyes and the sharper wit, the one who never stuck around after lectures, always disappearing before anyone could get too close.

And, apparently, the guy bleeding out on your fire escape.

Your first instinct was to call the police. But something about that felt... wrong. Jason Todd wasn’t the type to be involved in anything illegal—at least, not in the way that would warrant calling the cops. But the leather jacket, the streak of red across his chest, the faint emblem of a bat barely visible beneath layers of fabric—it all told a different story.

Your stomach twisted.

You knew what you’d seen before. The Red Hood. A myth, a ghost, a brutal hand of justice that left criminals broken in Gotham’s gutters. You had seen him once, in passing, in Crime Alley when you’d taken the wrong turn after class. You’d been more intrigued by his tech than the man himself—wondering what kind of genius had built something so efficient, so powerful, so lethal.

And now he was here. Bleeding out. On your fire escape.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, grabbing the first aid kit you kept under your bed. You weren’t a medic by any stretch, but this was Gotham. Everyone had to learn basic wound care at some point.

You unlatched the window and shoved it open. The cold air bit at your skin as Jason tensed, his hand twitching toward the pistol at his side.

“Relax,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I'm just trying to help”

His mask tilted up, white lenses locking onto you. A pause. Then, with a grunt, he staggered forward, collapsing onto your couch with the kind of drama that suggested this wasn’t his first time doing this.

“Thanks,” he muttered, voice rough, like gravel scraped across asphalt. “Hope you’re not too attached to this couch.”

“Not particularly,” you shot back, already pulling out gauze and antiseptic. “But I’d rather not have to explain a bloodstain to my landlord.”

Jason let out something that might’ve been a laugh, but it turned into a wince. You peeled back the ruined fabric of his shirt, assessing the damage. A deep gash along his side, ugly but not fatal. He’d live. Assuming he didn’t pass out on you first.

That was Jason Todd. The guy who never talked in class. The guy who was always there but never quite present. And now, the guy bleeding out on your couch, wearing the unmistakable gear of the Red Hood. Your classmate. The vigilante. The myth you’d only half-believed was real.

Your hands kept moving, more out of instinct than conscious effort, dabbing antiseptic onto the wound, pressing gauze against it. The weight of the realization settled in your chest, heavy, cold.

Jason Todd was the Red Hood.

It should have sent you into a spiral. It should have had you freaking out, or at the very least, demanding an explanation. But instead, you found yourself slipping into something easier—small talk, grounding yourself in the mundane while your mind scrambled to process everything else.

“What the hell did you get into?” you asked, threading a needle with steady hands.

“Let’s just say Black Mask and I have some... unresolved issues.” His smirk was sharp, even through the pain. “He doesn’t play nice.”

“Neither do you, apparently.”

He didn’t deny it. Just watched as you worked, his breathing slowing as the pain dulled to something distant. You didn’t ask the obvious questions. Not yet. How long had he been doing this? How had no one figured it out before? What else had you missed, sitting three rows behind him in class, thinking he was just another student with sharp eyes and sharper instincts?

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken questions. You weren’t sure why you spoke, why you let curiosity override common sense, but the words tumbled out anyway.

“The mask,” you said, nodding toward the helmet on your coffee table. “Tech like that doesn’t come cheap.”

Jason’s lips quirked. “What, you looking to upgrade?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “I’m a tech designer. It’s kind of my thing.”

He blinked, like he was seeing you for the first time. "Wayne Tech?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the employee ID you’d left on the coffee table, his expression unreadable.

“Intern,” you clarified, finishing the last stitch. “Not that I’d expect you to care, Mr. Vigilante.”

“Wayne Tech, huh?” His tone shifted, edged with something unreadable. “Guess that explains why you’re not running for the hills right now.”

You snorted. “Please. I’ve seen worse injuries in the R&D lab. You’re lucky I didn’t just slap a band-aid on it and call it a night.”

That earned a real laugh, low and rough, but not unpleasant. “Fair point.”

You leaned back slightly, taking him in. The Red Hood. Jason Todd. The same person. And yet, nothing about him had really changed. He was still the sharp-eyed guy from class, still the one who always seemed to know more than he let on. The only difference was that now you knew, too.

“Not many people build helmets with integrated HUDs and infrared vision,” you shot back, “or crash into my fire escape, bleed all over my couch, and make themselves at home, But here we are."

Jason smirked, something softer beneath it.

As the silence stretched between you, the sudden jingle of keys at the apartment door shattered the fragile stillness. Both of you froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Your stomach dropped.

Mia was home.

"Oh shit... that's my roommate," you whisper sharply, snatching Jason's mask off the table. Without thinking, you step closer and position yourself in front of him, blocking the unmistakable bat emblem on his chest with your body. It wasn’t subtle—you could feel Jason’s eyes on you, probably amused despite the situation—but it was the best you could manage under the circumstances.

The door flew open, and Mia swept in with her signature flair, her hair slightly disheveled and her eyeliner smudged. She froze mid-step when her eyes landed on Jason sitting on the couch.

"Uh... hi?" she said, raising an eyebrow, her gaze darting suspiciously between you and him. "Did I miss something?"

"This is... Jason," you said, fumbling for words and gesturing awkwardly toward him. "He’s in my Data Analysis class. Had a bit of an accident and, uh, needed some first aid."

Jason gave her a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Nice to meet you," he said smoothly, somehow managing to make the situation seem less bizarre than it was.

Mia narrowed her eyes for a moment, clearly not convinced, but then shrugged it off. "Right. Well, I’ll leave you two to... whatever this is," she said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and disappearing into her room without another word.

The door clicked shut, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "That was close," you muttered, turning back to Jason. He was leaning back now, one eyebrow raised, clearly amused.

“Data Analysis class? Really?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "You're welcome for saving your secret identity, by the way. And it's not that bad—we're going to the same college. She’s bound to see you around campus eventually."

You let the silence settle for a moment before shifting your weight, glancing at him. "So," you began, your voice softer now. "What's it like? Being..." You gestured vaguely at his suit.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Being what? A guy who bleeds on random people’s furniture?”

You rolled your eyes. “A vigilante. You know what I mean.”

He leaned back, his gaze fixed on you, as if weighing how much to reveal. “It’s not glamorous, if that’s what you’re asking. You get used to stitches, bruises, and sleeping with one eye open. But… someone’s gotta do it.”

You shifted on your feet, watching him carefully. "Hey, you know you don’t have to do this, right? There are people—Batman, for one—who can handle this kind of thing."

Jason let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Batman can’t save everybody." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Someone has to step up."

"And that someone has to be you?" you asked, your voice quieter now.

He shrugged. "Guess so. Not like I could sit back and watch this city tear itself apart."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. There was something undeniably admirable about his resolve, even if it sounded like a lonely existence. A life of sacrifice. Before you could respond, the sharp buzz of Jason’s phone cut through the quiet room. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening.

“Trouble?” you asked.

“Always,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing his jacket.

“Thanks for the patch-up. I owe you one.”

And just like that, he was gone, swallowed by Gotham’s shadows. You stood by the window for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

You weren’t sure what this meant, if it meant anything at all. But one thing was certain—Jason Todd had crashed into your life, and something told you he wasn’t done yet.

#arkofangels #fanfic #Jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc universe #batboys x reader #batboys #not proofread

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

Batting Practice Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You only get two nights alone with Bradley in Palm Springs, and you're determined to enjoy every minute of your honeymoon. Bradley isn't so sure how you'll feel about the gifts he bought for you, but you light up when you see them. While the weekend felt too short, going home means you both get to see Everett again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, smut

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley held your hand the entire way to Palm Springs as the two of you softly shared your ideas for the future. It was dark outside, and there was no traffic, making for a peaceful ride. You had changed out of your wedding dress into some leggings and one of his tee shirts, but you still looked as beautiful as you had earlier at the ballpark when he slipped your wedding band on your finger. Right now you were talking about going to Disney World when Everett had a school break, but the details didn't matter to Bradley. He was happy going anytime you wanted.

"I've never been to Florida. I've barely been out of California, and even then, just for work conferences in Minneapolis in the middle of winter," you told him, rubbing your soft fingers along his rough ones. "But you've been everywhere."

Bradley contemplated his response for a beat. Sure, he'd been all over the world with the navy. He'd seen a lot and been able to act the part of a tourist at times, too. But he'd never experienced this before. "Yeah," he agreed, turning down a desert road. "But this is the first time I've had a home since I was a kid, Kitten. I'll take you and Ev anywhere you want to go, happily. And then we can return home where everything is perfect. Home is where the Phillies room is."

Your laughter filled the Bronco as the lights of Palm Springs came into view between the mountains. Bradley navigated the last few miles to the hotel, and then he helped you out before grabbing both bags. The night was cool, and you had goosebumps on your arms when he touched you there, but your lips were warm and inviting. "I love you," he whispered. "Let's go to our room."

He wasn't sure if it was the chilly air that made you shiver or his words, but he was planning on showing you how many different ways he could love you over the next two days. Emotionally and physically. It only took a minute to get checked into the small boutique hotel, and then you were leading the way to the room, occasionally grinning at him over your shoulder.

As soon as that door was closed and you said, "Oh, look how pretty-" Bradley had his mouth on yours as he pushed you up against the door. "Coach," you gasped, pliant in his arms as his hands found their way up inside your shirt.

"You feel so good. So soft," he whispered, voice harsh as you started to pull the shirt over your head. As you stood there in your white lace bra, nipples peaked against the decadent looking fabric, he said, "You're my wife."

The way your body arched into his as your head tipped back against the door made his eyes go wide. He wrapped his big hands around your hips and hauled you to bed, pressing you down underneath his bodyweight as he dipped his hand into the elastic waistband of your pants. You were so wet. He shouldn't have been surprised. And now you were getting a little loud as he stroked your clit. That didn't really surprise him either.

"I like you loud," he grunted, taking a minute to wrench your tight pants down your legs and drop them to the floor. You were perfect, writhing around, gasping his name in your white thong and matching bra. When you reached for him, he tried to slow his pace, tried to get himself undressed, but he just couldn't.

So the first time he made love to you after you got married, Bradley still had his jeans mostly on, and your pretty panties were pushed to the side to accommodate him. He managed to get your bra off as you ran your hands along his neck and up into his hair, and then you pulled his shirt off for him. But the urgency to be with you was still there. He hoped it never went away.

"I love you, Coach," you gasped, keening loudly as he sucked on your tits and got you off with his fingers and his cock. And then he came for you, messing up your thong when he withdrew, watching his cum seep out of you and onto the bedding.

"We're gonna destroy this room," he whispered, taking in your body and the way you were gently stroking your tits in the aftermath.

You bit your lip and watched him stand at the foot of the bed. "Let me know when you're ready again. I have an idea for that couch."

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

As soon as you got cleaned up from round one with Bradley's undershirt back on, you dug around in your overnight bag. And then it became abundantly clear that Molly packed your overnight bag with a specific agenda in mind. Yeah, she packed your toothbrush, face wash and makeup. Sure, she packed your phone charger and vitamins. But when it came to clothing, all you had with you was your leopard print bathing suit, one of Molly's bodycon dresses, and lingerie. And more lingerie. And new lingerie that you'd never even seen before.

"Bradley!" you called out to your newly minted husband who was in the bathroom. You stormed over to the door and pushed it open to reveal him washing his hands.

"Yeah, Baby?"

"Why did you let Molly pack my bag?"

He gave you a funny look. "I thought she'd know better about what you'd want to bring here than I would."

You laughed and shook your head. "She packed it for you. Not me. There's nothing in there except sexy underwear and one skin tight dress."

Bradley's grin grew as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna thank her right now."

"When I'm wearing an inappropriately short dress to dinner tomorrow night, that's on you and her," you told him, strolling out onto the balcony that overlooked the pool.

But he was right behind you, pressing himself against your back as you leaned against the railing and looked out over the desert lit up by moonlight. "This dress? How short we talking?"

You pushed your butt back against him and whispered, "You'll think my pussy is on your dinner menu."

The way he groaned in your ear and wrapped his arm around you left little doubt in your mind that he was ready for round two. "How about for a midnight snack?" he asked, reaching beneath the shirt you were wearing and running his rough hand up your thigh. His lips and breath were hot on your neck as you wiggled your butt. He hissed, "I want you."

"You just had me," you replied, biting your lip as you watched the few people below who were having a late night swim. And then he was slipping one long finger down along your slit and pushing it inside your pussy, still messy with his cum from a little bit ago.

"Well, I want you again." He was kissing the side of your neck now as you contemplated whether or not it was a good idea to do this on the balcony. "How could I not want my sexy wife?"

Okay, so you were going to let him fuck you on the balcony.

While your room didn't have any exterior lights shining, it wasn't so dark up here that you were completely hidden. And the wrought iron railing wasn't going to help hide much, but you were already getting excited just thinking about it. When you bent a little more at the waist so your bare butt and thighs were rubbing against the front of his shorts, you looked at him over your shoulder and whispered, "You wanna?"

With a groan so loud you were afraid the people in the pool might look up, he withdrew his finger from your pussy. "I wanna." And then you squeaked as he wrapped his forearm around your belly and ground himself against you. "You gotta keep quiet, Kitten." And then he bent you a little more, and you could feel the cool night air on your slick opening before he yanked down his shorts and filled you up.

You weren't prepared to take him right then all at once, and Bradley had to cover your mouth immediately as you braced your hands on the railing.

"I love it when you get loud," he grunted next to your ear as he started thrusting. When you licked his palm, paying special attention to his wedding band, he slipped two fingers inside your mouth. "But that should keep you quiet."

Bradley fucked you so hard and fast while you watched everyone in the pool, you were ready to cum after a few minutes. His fingers had you literally drooling, but his mouth was on your neck, and he was whispering how good you were for him.

"You gonna cum, Kitten? I can tell you are." His voice was ragged now as he squeezed your breasts through the shirt, stroking your nipples with just enough pressure that he had to add a third finger to your mouth to keep your moaning quiet. And then you came on his cock, legs shaking and back arched, drowning in the pleasure he was giving you.

"I'm close," he whispered. "You can take it." Then he withdrew his fingers and grabbed your hips with both hands and fucked you even harder. When he came, you bit your lip. There was a couple getting out of the pool, and they glanced around as Bradley finished. He slipped out of you, his warm cum coating your inner thighs as you stood. You kept yourself in front of him as the couple glanced your way briefly, but Bradley was too busy singing your praises next to your ear to notice.

"I can't believe we did that," you said with a shy smile as you spun to face him.

Bradley smirked as he tucked himself back into his shorts. "I still want to know what you have planned for the couch."

"Maybe I'll show you tomorrow."

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

Bradley woke up the next morning with your naked body wrapped around him and a strip of sunlight streaming in through the sliding glass door. Your diamond ring was sending little bursts of color along the ceiling and the walls as it reflected the light, and the splotches of orange and green and purple danced across your face as you started to move. Your long eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and your lips curved into a smile just for him.

"I love you, Coach," you whispered, the reflected colors moving down your body before you slid your hand away and leaned up to kiss him.

He cupped your cheek and whispered, "Mrs. Bradshaw," between kisses.

It was just a few seconds before you were riding him, putting on a show and letting him touch you all over. Bradley loved the visual of you sliding up and down his cock, getting a little louder with each motion. "You're gorgeous," he groaned, caressing your thighs and hips with his big hands. "I can't believe I have a wife. A fucking MILF at that."

You laughed and leaned down to kiss him, anchoring your hands against his shoulders as you continued to fuck him just right. When you and he were spent, you were draped across him again while he was still buried inside you. "I'm hungry," you whispered, kissing his neck.

"Room service? I wasn't really planning on sharing you with anyone else until dinner."

You pouted up at him as he played with your paw print charm. "I want to go in the pool."

He nodded. "I'd kind of like to see what our balcony looks like from down there. I swear that couple last night saw us." Your soft moan let him know what he suspected; you found it more sexy than upsetting that someone may have seen part of that. Some knowledge to keep tucked away for next time. "Let's go check out the cafe."

"You're so funny," you told him, easing yourself out of bed and leaving his messy cock resting against his abs. "I. Don't. Have. Any. Clothing."

Bradley laughed as he stood as well. "Put your sexy leopard print bathing suit on, jungle kitten. The pool bar will serve us food."

He watched you pull on your bathing suit as you muttered some unfriendly things about Molly. "At least she gave me flip flops."

"You can always buy something from one of the shops downstairs," Bradley said, lacing his fingers with yours and coaxing you down to the lobby.

But what started as a search for a dress or a cute outfit for you quickly turned into something for Bradley and Everett.

"Check it out!" he said, holding up a child's size baseball jersey that said Palm Springs Vintage League. "They have some for adults, too."

You flipped over the price tag and balked. "Ev doesn't need it for two hundred dollars."

Bradley frowned. "But he and I could match. All three of us could, if you want one too, Kitten."

"He'll outgrow it by next year."

He stood there and just stared at you. He had a son now. Kids outgrew things as they got older. The thought was really unsettling to him as he held up the little jersey, much like the Bradshaw one that you had gifted to him yesterday. It was adorable, and Everett would love it. "I don't even know what size he wears," Bradley muttered, checking the tag for a different reason.

"He's usually a 7/8," you replied casually. But when Bradley went silent again, you asked, "What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard and said, "I just... don't know that kind of stuff about him. You know? I feel like I know a lot. Like I try to pay attention. I know what he likes and doesn't like. I know that he loves the Phillies and science class and pancakes and swimming. I know that he doesn't have any allergies, because it was on his fact sheet for tee ball." You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed her sternum though his shirt. "But, Kitten... I didn't know what size he wears. And I don't know his blood type or anything like that. What if something happens to him when he's with me? What if there's something important I should know and I fuck it up?"

"His blood type is A negative," you said, squeezing him a little tighter as he gripped the hanger in his hand. "And you're not going to fuck anything up, Bradley."

"I accidentally taught him a bad word last week. And I accidentally kind of told him what a sugar daddy does."

You burst into laughter against his chest, shaking in his arms as you tried to calm down. "Okay, but that's not the end of the world. And honestly, both of those are pretty funny now when I think about them. But you care about Ev so much. You went and got him from Danny's house when I called you."

He kissed your forehead. "Don't talk about Danny," he growled. "Hate him."

"See? You're nothing like him at all! You think Danny knew Everett's blood type? Or what size he wore? The difference is, Danny didn't care to know those things at all. You do. And you'll catch on to more now that you live with us."

Bradley nodded and took a deep breath. And when he left the shop holding your hand after purchasing three of the jerseys, you didn't complain about the price at all.

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

After you ate brunch on an oversized lounge chair next to the mid century modern pool with Bradley, you fell asleep while he watched the Padres recap on his phone. Your body was sore from last night, but he kept his arm wrapped around you, stroking your skin softly with his fingertips.

As you dozed on and off, you muttered to Bradley, "Will you text Molly or Bob and check on Ev? And see how Ev's future cousin is doing?"

"Already did about an hour ago," he replied, taking your hand and kissing your fingers. "All good. Ev and Bob went on a hike. And apparently Molly ate some vegetables for the baby but washed them down with gummy bears."

"That sounds right," you murmured, yawning and stretching. "You wore me out, Coach."

Bradley looked at you from under the bill of his cap. "I thought you promised me that your pussy was on my dinner menu."

The waiter who was walking by snickered, and you tried to hide your face. "Bradley," you groaned.

"Well, is it on my dinner menu or not, Kitten? I'm starving for it."

"You're insatiable."

"It's our honeymoon. But I'm going to take you on a longer trip just the two of us. Because as much as I love Ev and want to know everything about him, I love you, too. And I love my dinner menu."

You ended up jumping in the pool to get him to stop, but he came splashing in right behind you. When he swam over to you, he grabbed you and you clung into him. "Remember the tee ball pool party?" you asked as he swiped his hair back from his forehead.

"Remember it? Kitten, that was our first kiss."

You bit your lip and pressed the tip of your nose to his. "Got a little spicy in the clubhouse kitchen."

"Bob caught us," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you over to the side of the pool. "He knew I was head over heels."

"I was so embarrassed!"

"And just think, pretty soon he'll probably be your brother-in-law. Uncle Bob."

You smothered his face in kisses and said, "I love my family."

And you really meant it, even as you were squeezing into the stretchy bodycon dress Molly had packed so you could go to dinner. It didn't look as good on you as it did on her, but it honestly wasn't terrible.

"Holy shit," Bradley grunted. "Molly needs to let you borrow that indefinitely."

You rolled your eyes. "She's going to want it back. I'm sure Bob-"

"Do not finish that sentence!" he practically shouted. "I want to enjoy the erection I'm going to have later, okay?"

You started laughing as you covered your mouth with your hand. "Let me finish my makeup, and then we can go." You touched up your mascara and your lipstick. Okay, now you did look pretty hot. Tight red dress. Red lips. Dark eye makeup.

"Ready?" you asked, strolling out of the bathroom and slipping your feet into your black heels. Your eyes settled on a wrapped box that was placed on the foot of the bed. "What's that?"

Bradley's smirk made your heart race. "Just a little something I got for you. For us."

You pressed your lips together. "Am I allowed to open it now?"

But he shook his head. "It's strictly for after dinner, Kitten."

Your mind was racing. Maybe he got you some kind of new lingerie? Or a toy? You thought of so many sexy things as he led you downstairs to the restaurant with his hand on your butt.

When you looked up at him through your lashes, he whispered, "You look perfect." The thing was, you felt perfect. You had never felt a fraction of this love and excitement with Danny. You never felt starved for attention now, and neither did Everett. You felt adored and listened to and understood. It made you want to do something crazy like drop to your knees and give him a blowjob in the elevator.

You managed to hold it together as you did have to ride down to the wine cellar restaurant with an elderly couple. But just barely. You let your knuckles graze Bradley's cock through his pants with intent. And he grunted in response, his pupils blown wide.

"Just wait, Kitten." His voice sounded threatening, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. And that feeling didn't improve as you and he sat side by side with glasses of merlot and an enormous steak that you shared along with countless sides and crusty bread that made your mouth water.

"I love it here," you told him before he fed you some steak from his fork. "This is my favorite dinner. And the wine is incredible."

He kissed your cheek and let his lips and mustache trail back closer to your ear. "Get as tipsy as you want, Baby. But don't get drunk. I'm going to need your consent for what's in that little box on the bed, okay?"

A shiver ran through your body as you turned to face him. He had his hand on your thigh, tucked up underneath the tiny dress, and his mustache felt rough against the shell of your ear.

"Okay," you agreed. But after another glass of wine, you could barely keep your lips off of him in the dimly lit restaurant. You were honestly so ready to go back to the room when he held up a dessert menu.

"What would you like?" he asked, stroking your leg. "I'll be having your pussy for dessert, but why don't you pick out something sweet to take back up to the room?"

You couldn't remember what you ordered, but it must have been cheesecake. You were holding the to-go container and rubbing yourself all over Bradley in the elevator twenty minutes later. He had lipstick on his shirt collar, and the top few buttons were undone. He was flushed a pretty shade of pink, and you arrived back at your floor just as your hand went to the button on his pants.

The wine went to your head, but you weren't quite drunk. But it was hard to walk in your heels now, so Bradley carried you as you held your cheesecake. "Are you gonna fuck me, Coach?" you asked when he reached the door and unlocked it with one hand.

He kissed you and set you down as the door closed behind you. "I want to, Kitten. But first, I'm going to get changed, and then you can open that box, okay?"

You nodded and watched him undress before pulling on just a pair of gray sweatpants. "Why are you putting clothes back on?" you whined stomping one high heel on the floor.

He chuckled and shrugged. "It's gonna be a minute before we get down to it. And I don't want to distract you, Baby. Now come here." He pulled you closer by your hips before letting his hands slide down to the bottom of the dress. Slowly, he pulled the fabric up your body and over your head. You moaned, completely bare for him. "Fucking gorgeous," he whispered, running his fingers down the valley between your breasts.

When you tried to kick your heels off, you whined his name, "Bradley, please. I want to open the box." The gold wrapping paper looked so enticing.

"In a minute," he promised, kissing your shoulder. "How do you feel about keeping the high heels on?"

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I'll keep them on for you."

"They'll match perfectly," he crooned, sucking gently on your neck. "With these." He reached for the box and handed it to you, his cheeks still flushed with pink.

But now your husband looked a little apprehensive as you tore into the gold paper and gently removed the top of the box. You gasped, gaping up at him before looking back down at the pretty burgundy velvet with gold accents. "You want me to...wear these?" you asked him in barely a whisper.

He ran his hands slowly up and down your sides. "Yes. The collar has your name on it."

You set the box on the bed and pulled out the matching collar and leash. There was a charm dangling off the collar. Mrs. Bradshaw.

"But only if you want to, Kitten," Bradley reassured you in his sweet voice.

You let the warm velvet and the cool metal meet your hands for a few seconds. They were pretty. You liked them. You liked the idea of wearing them. When you looked up at him, you held your hands out. "Put them on me?"

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

Bradley was actually living in his wildest fantasy at the moment. He was married. To you. He had a home and a family. And he was very gently tightening a collar around your neck while he placed soft kisses to your bare shoulder.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling away to get a good look. You were nibbling nervously on your lip, your hand coming up to feel the charm. The tag. You were tagged with his name. His cock was so hard in his sweatpants, he thought he might cum right now. And he hadn't even finished clasping the leash to your pretty collar yet.

Both were a deep red velvet, so satisfying looking against his skin. And once the leash was hooked on, he was throbbing.

"How do I look, Coach?"

"Mmm, you look like my sexy Kitten. Will you let me take some pictures of this? Maybe a little video? Use it to get me through my next deployment."

"Of course," you said, rubbing yourself against him as he held his camera up and took a few photos.

"God damn," he groaned. "You look incredible, Baby." Then you took the end of the leash and put it in his hand.

"Don't be too rough," you whispered, kissing the corner of his lips.

"Never, Kitten," he promised, backing up toward the couch. As soon as you felt the tug, you followed him, your high heels clicking across the marble floor tiles. He loved the sound of it. He loved the look of you. And when he sank down onto the couch, he took a few more photos before tossing his phone aside. "Come on up here," he whispered, rubbing his thigh. "I know you like this."

You were practically purring as you straddled his thigh and eased yourself down so your perfect pussy was resting on his sweatpants. Bradley shortened the leash and yanked softly until your tits bounced and you slid higher on his leg. And then you started to grind, and Bradley kissed along your collar as he kept the leash taut.

"I knew your pussy would be on the menu."

When you let our head tip back, he pulled a little harder on the leash so you were whining as he cupped your ass. "This is exactly what I wanted to do on the couch."

"God, Kitten. You're a dream come true."

He let you lean forward to kiss his lips and play with the hair at the back of his neck. You tasted like wine. Your nipples were hard. Your pussy was soaking his pants. Intoxicating.

Then you whispered, "I'm your pet," before you delicately licked his mustache.

"Jesus Christ," he grunted as you licked his cheek and his ear like a cat. You were the hottest thing he'd ever witnessed, and you were riding his thigh. "Lick my cock," he commanded, tugging on your leash until you were forced down between his legs.

You looked up at him and then started to lick at the wet spot you left on his pants, and Bradley was helpless to force you to stop. Your tits were bouncing as you licked up your silky wetness before reaching for the elastic band and pulling his pants down. You pulled his sweatpants clean off of him and wrapped both hands around his aching cock. His tip was so red, it looked purple.

When Bradley yanked on the leash, you licked the underside of his tip and looked up at him. Every little kitten lick sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He was panting your name as sweat broke out on his face and chest. "You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, Baby." Truly, the sight before him was almost too much. He reached for his phone again and started recording a video.

You looked at the camera, licking him with short strokes of your tongue and smiling a little sheepishly. "Tell me, who's big cock are you licking, Kitten?"

Then you whimpered and said, "My husband's."

"A little louder, Baby," he said, snapping the leash, making you whine.

"My husband's big cock!"

"God, I love you." Now you were taking him between your lips and sucking on him. He let you go for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of that little gold charm hitting your perfect skin as you bobbed and gagged. But he knew what else he wanted to do as he set his phone down again.

When he yanked on your leash, you responded instantly, releasing him from your mouth with a little pop. "Go climb up on the bed, Kitten." He let the leash out a bit so you could stand, and then he stood and pulled you toward the bed. "You like this, don't you?"

"I love it," you replied with a grin before you crawled up onto the bed on your hands and knees. You knew what to do. You presented him with your ass and pussy. You were his pet right now. His very well behaved pet. His cock was still wet from your saliva, and when he pushed himself inside you, he yanked that leash back.

"Bradley!" you screeched, barely able to keep your hands on the bedding with how he was making your back arch.

"You can do it, Baby. I know you can." As he stood there and fucked you, he watched you spread your legs a little wider. Your back arched beautifully. Your fingertips scraped for purchase on the bedding. "That's it."

Bradley fucked you so hard as he pulled on the leash, you couldn't even talk. But you were grinding back into him as you made little sounds. He was addicted to this. He let his free hand come up to rest on your lower back before easing it down along your ass. So close. He was so close. Your pussy was gripping him, and it was the most beautiful sight. He could watch this all night long. But he was going to cum.

He let go of the leash, grabbing at both hips as he started to slow his thrusts down. "Fuck!" he barked leaning down to kiss along your collar. And he filled you up, rubbing his hands along that pretty ass before watching his cum drip out of your pussy and onto the bedding.

You rolled onto your back and reached for him, that Mrs. Bradshaw charm shining in the lamplight. When you made no more to unclip the least or take off the collar, Bradley crawled onto the bed next to you. "I love you," he whispered, gathering you against him with so many kisses, feeling your high heel graze his calf.

"We'll do that again, right?" you asked, raking your fingers through his hair.

"Whenever you want it," he promised. "I'd give you anything. You must know that."

You closed your eyes and smiled. "Feed me the cheesecake."

A minute later, Bradley was sitting back against the headboard with your back pressed to his chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, holding the fork and the container, and you were taking bites and moaning softly. You were still wearing your collar.

"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow." You opened your mouth for more of your dessert.

"I miss Ev," he whispered, earning a kiss to his chin. "And I can't have him riding around in Bob's truck too much, or he might start to like it better than the Bronco."

"Never," you gasped, and Bradley fed you the last bite. Then you yawned, and he helped you get ready for bed. "You wore me out again, Coach."

"We're just getting started."

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

Late the next morning, after a very leisurely room service breakfast and sex in the shower, you and Bradley were on the road back to San Diego. Your body was so sore, and you were wearing Bradley's gray sweatpants and one of his undershirts. Molly really was the best sister in the world for only packing you the necessities.

You had your hand resting on Bradley's on the seat between you while you sipped some coffee. The radio was playing an oldies station, and Bradley knew all the words. The desert was giving way to some suburbs and you thought you should text Molly and Bob and let them know you'd be there soon.

When Bradley flipped his hand over and tightened his grip on yours, you turned to him with an expectant look. His voice was deep and steady as he said, "So what's the plan? How soon can I adopt Ev?"

Your heart was so full that now it was overflowing. "I'll call my lawyer tomorrow."

"First thing tomorrow," he replied with a smile. "Thanks for sharing your son with me."

You wanted to thank Bradley for loving Everett, but as tears stung your eyes, you just couldn't. Because this was just simply what you and Ev should have had all along. Now you were both getting top tier adoration, but you deserved nothing less.

"Yeah," you whispered, leaning across the seat to kiss his cheek while he drove. "I'll call first thing in the morning."

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

Just sitting here thinking about Coach Bradley wearing a collar and leash of his very own. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 31

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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rhyrhy · 5 days ago

Text

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Series mlist | moodboards | third Chapter (you are here)

Three: Under the Knife 🩺

summary: At St. Mary's Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, staying within those boundaries is becoming increasingly difficult under the constant gaze of the head of cardio.

You and Jesse have exchanged a few awkward glances, and while his flirty, over-the-top charm can be amusing, you’ve learned to tune it out. Ellie, on the other hand, is easier to get along with. She doesn’t beat around the bush and always knows how to make you laugh, even when the tension in the hallways is thick. Dina began to feel like a long-lost sibling, keeping you grounded with her steady presence. She’s always there with a quick quip or an eye roll when things get too stressful.

And then there’s Riley. The nurse at the front desk who always seems to have the perfect piece of advice at just the right time. She’s one of those people who can find humor in anything, even on the worst of days.

You’re clocking in for another long shift when you spot Abby a few feet away. She’s standing in the hallway, phone pressed to her ear, her back stiff, and her jaw clenched. There’s something about the way she’s holding herself like she’s on the verge of breaking, but not yet. The conversation seems heated, though you can’t make out the words.

Your mind starts to wander, a million questions running through your head. Who could she be talking to like that? You’ve seen the way she commands respect, the way the staff listens to her when she speaks. Yet there’s an air of vulnerability in her hushed tone. You shake the thoughts away as you finish clocking in, pushing the curiosity aside for now.

The weekend rolls around, and after a long week of hospital shifts, Dina finally manages to carve out some time to help you move more of your things into your new apartment. Both of you are exhausted, half-asleep, but determined to get it done.

You sit together in your living room, now free of most of the moving boxes, trying to build a bedside table out of an old box. It’s a struggle, but you manage to get it assembled after a few clumsy attempts.

“I think it’s perfect,” Dina says with a grin as she leans back against the couch, her voice muffled by a yawn.

“You know,” you say, popping up from behind the trunk of the car parked in your driveway, “I already work over 100 hours with you a week. Feels like we’re basically girlfriends now.”

Dina rolls her eyes dramatically. “If that’s your idea of a relationship, I think you’re in for a rude awakening.”

You both laugh, a comfortable silence falling between you as you continue putting things in place, marking the first steps of turning your space into something that feels like home.

Even though Utah was definitely out of your comfort zone, you were starting to not mind it too much.

Back home, everything felt like it was always moving, always too fast. The noise, the people, the traffic—it never stopped. You’d learned to live with it, but it never felt like home. Every corner you turned, every face you passed, there was a sense of urgency, a sense of not quite fitting in. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had an opinion about your future, about who you were supposed to be. You’d been running from those opinions for years, from your family’s judgment, from the constant push to be more, do more, even when you weren’t sure you had the energy left to care.

But here, now? That was miles away.

The hospital hallways hum with anticipation as the day of the decision draws nearer. Everyone has survived their brutal first shifts, but now comes the next battle: the chance to scrub in on the first surgery.

The rumors are circulating, and the tension in the air is palpable. Everyone’s vying for that one coveted spot—who will be chosen?

Jesse leans casually against the nurses’ station, arms crossed, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “Let’s be real,” he says, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m getting the first surgery. I’ve got it in the bag.”

Dina raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside him. Coffee cup in hand. “Based on what, exactly? Your ability to sweet-talk nurses?”

Ellie snickers from the side, chiming in with, “More like his ability to trip over his own feet.”

Jesse dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Ouch. No faith in me at all?” You chuckle, but you can’t help the gnawing feeling in your stomach. The truth is, you want that surgery. Badly. And judging by the tense glances being exchanged between the other interns, so does everyone else.

Before the teasing can continue, Marlene rounds the corner, her gaze sharp. “Are you all waiting for an engraved invitation to do your damn jobs?”

Ah shit, Instantly, the group scatters, returning to the chaos. Breathers weren’t a luxury you got or earned yet. Marlene is something else—a mix of stern authority and unspoken understanding. You’ve caught her eyes a few times, and in those fleeting moments, you’ve seen something softer. She's tough, but sometimes you need tough, right?

Later, between rounds, you got turned around for the hundredth time. At one point a patient even called you out on being lost, pushing her better on the hospital with zero sense of direction. So many rooms, so many elevators, so, so many stairs…

You pressed your face into your palms for a moment to try and reboot your brain. You still had a solid seven hours left before you were going anywhere that didn’t have the smell of Lysol and hand sanitizer lingering. The ding of the elevator was always too high-pitched for your ears liking, but you’ll get over it, you thought. And as if your day couldn’t get any better, you were greeted with a familiar face, staring right back at you with her glasses pushed to the bridge of her nose, glaring down at some paper like it was her arch nemesis.

Those colored eyes and always perfectly pulled back Hair. would never go unrecognized by you. Abby, in the elevator you needed. again. those dark blue scrubs to complement said eyes.

You find yourself stuck in yet another elevator ride with her. Yeah, it’s becoming a pattern. You and the resident you oh-so-accidentally slept with. Pretending like the image of her naked body isn’t burnt in your memory.

Once you stepped into the elevator and silently sat beside her, she turned her gaze to you with the tilt of her head. “You think you’re getting the first surgery?”

You scoff, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I did manage to diagnose Katie, so I should be in the running.”

She tilts her head, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Mhm, Bold confidence”

You glance away, trying not to show how much her attention affects you. The silence in the elevator fell hard, charged. You can feel her watching you, the weight of her gaze almost tangible.

The doors open, and she shifts slightly closer, voice lowering to a whisper. “You never answered about the hike.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re really pushing this team-building thing, huh?” You glanced over to her, feeling your stomach flip when her shoulder nudged yours.

Abby shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I am, You’ll come around.”

Leaving you to watch her figure retreat. You would’ve been sad about the abrupt exit if you didn’t enjoy watching her walk away. Catching her small look over her shoulder at you. She knew what she was doing, damn it.

You hated that it was working.

The next few days blur by in a haze of patient rounds and assignments. Dina grew more attached to a young girl with a failing heart, checking in on her at all hours. Jesse watches from the sidelines, ever the joker, but this time, his humor seems more forced. “You know you can’t save them all, right?” he says, his voice tinged with something else—concern, maybe.

Dina glares at him, her worry written all over her face. “That’s not helpful.”

Jesse shrugs, leaning against the wall. “I just don’t want to see you burn out before we even get to scrub in.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, but Dina doesn’t respond. She just continues watching over her patient, lost in the world of medicine that consumes her every breath. You’d check in on her occasionally, bringing her coffee and racking her brain when needed.

Meanwhile, Ellie’s handling a post-op patient when she miscalculates a dosage, nearly causing a serious complication. The attending Nora catches it just in time, but Ellie is left feeling defeated. Later that day, you find her sitting on the stairs, her face buried in her hands.

“Hey,” you said, closing the door behind you. Glancing over her defeated figure. Those Green eyes full of exhaustion.

“Hey. You coming to put me out of my misery?” She replied, muffled from her hands.

“No. And Ellie, you’re not the first intern to screw up,” you say, sitting down beside her. “And you won’t be the last.”

Ellie groans, shaking her head. “Yeah, but I’d rather not be that intern.”

You nudge her shoulder, offering a comforting smile. “Get used to it. We’re all just trying to keep our heads above water.” You weren’t sure if those were the most reassuring words you could’ve offered, but it was what she needed in the moment, realism. Her head resting on your shoulder Told you she appreciated it.

At the end of the day, the tension finally breaks. Isaac gathers the interns, and the moment of truth arrives. The chief, Isaac. A gray beard and a deep voice step forward, voice steady and commanding.

“The intern assisting in their first surgery will be…” Time seems to slow, the anticipation palpable. Every eye is on him, every ear straining to hear the verdict.

Your heart skips a beat. Did he just say—you? Your breath catches as you glance at your fellow coworkers, who’s watching you with unreadable eyes.

Jesse mutters under his breath, disbelief lacing his tone. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Dina slaps you on the back, her grin wide. “Hell yeah!”

Ellie lets out a low whistle, her approval evident. Dina turns back to you, her eyes gleaming with something close to pride. “Looks like you better get some sleep.”

But you can’t even process her words.

Next week. Next week! You’ll be scrubbed in, standing on the precipice of your first real surgery.

And there’s no going back. This is it. Your first time under the knife. One chance to prove yourself. The reason you’re here. One week to prepare, to get your head in the game. Your fingers tighten around the blue fabric of your scrub top. Tomorrow, you either sink or swim.

No pressure.

None at all

Taglist cuties! @sevyscoven @flyleaffreak @antobooh

#x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #fem reader #abby x reader #lgbtq #abby the last of us #rhysvitalsigns #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #abby fluff #doctor abby #abby anderson tlou2

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corralinesage · 3 months ago

Text

Portrait of a wounded heart (7/8)

This is the last official chapter of this work. Hope you enjoy! <3

CHAPTER 7 Reification

Your eyes flashed open as you forced yourself awake, blinking your eyes to get rid of the heaviness of your eyelids. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t miss a single moment of being snuggly cuddled up in Natasha’s embrace, your cheek pressed up against her breast and her arms wrapped around you. She was lying on her healthy side, giving her injured ribs some relief, which left you the most perfect spot to sleep in. Your room was dark, streetlights peeking from behind your curtains to illuminate the wooden floor, the cold air of your room contrasting perfectly with Natasha’s warm body as it pressed tightly up against yours beneath the covers. She smelled like sex, you smelled like sex, the scent mixing with body wash and the mild fragrance of fresh linen that still clung to the sheets you had changed two days before. Natasha was asleep, her chest moving in tandem with yours as she breathed evenly, her nose buried in your hair. She must have been beyond tired after what she had had to endure at work. She had barely moved since you both had settled down for the night. You could hear her gentle breathing above you, a smile spreading onto your lips. In the span of just a couple hours you had noticed that she had a habit of huffing quietly in her sleep, soft noises getting muffled by your hair as she slept soundly, the weight of her arm squeezing you against her body, her fingers limply curled against your bare back.

You were so happy, you were so happy that your body physically ached from how difficult it was to process that emotion you had been lacking for so long. You felt small and feeble beside the overwhelmingly powerful feeling that had all of a sudden gotten such a tight, suffocating grip on you, yet it felt good. It felt comforting to know that there was still light somewhere in your future, that you could have good things. You weren’t damned to a life of misery, you weren’t destined for loneliness, but you had a very real possibility of finding true happiness and stability in your life, that was if the woman holding you managed to behave. You knew she shouldn’t have been the one to carry the burden of your contentment, but she just so happened to be a huge part of it, and there was nothing you could do about it. She made you happy, happy in a way that you couldn’t control.

Natasha huffed again, pressing her nose farther into your hair as she nuzzled herself closer to you, adjusting her position, her foot sliding up your calf. You couldn’t remember a time you had slept next to someone, let alone in someone’s arms, or you could, but you didn’t want to think about it. The memory would have only ruined the serene atmosphere of your bedroom where time stood still, and only happy thoughts existed. You burrowed your face into her bare chest, kissing the warm skin, freeing your hand from between your bodies to glide it down the curve of her waist beneath the blanket. Her skin was impossibly smooth, your fingertips stroking over the silky surface, going up to her hip to meet her hipbone that jutted out slightly before coming back down to where her waist dipped the lowest. You hugged her closer, your hand wandering to explore her muscular back, finding all kinds of subtle arches and bumps for you to trace. You breathed in the warmth of Natasha’s skin, your mind drifting, eyes fluttering shut without you noticing.

The next time you tore your eyes open, the sun was up in the sky, but covered by clouds, gentle light beaming into your room through the curtains. You could hear cars outside, the even hum of traffic with an occasional honk of a horn carrying through the poor structures of the building. Your body was stiff, but you were more than comfortable in your sheets. You felt a hand on your waist, your attention shifting automatically to Natasha as you turned around to face her, having rolled away from her embrace in your sleep. You found her frizzy hair, her relaxed face buried in her pillow, her eyes remaining closed. You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face, the excitement from the day before returning in full force. She was there, right there in front of you, cuddled up in your sheets, in your sheets. You hid your face in your hands, refraining from squealing. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. Yet it was.

You decided to let her sleep for as long as she needed to, hoping that she could recharge herself properly after the night she had had. It was quite early still, early enough for your 9AM-alarm to not have gone off. You had a four-hour-long lecture that day, but you were without a shadow of a doubt going to skip it, so you made sure to disable the alarm altogether to avoid disturbing Natasha in any way. You watched her sleep for a long time, your gaze studying her tranquil state until you finally failed to fight the itch to go fetch your sketchbook. You settled down on the edge of the bed where you could see her from your desired angle, your pencil finding the paper on its own as you started sketching, eyes remaining on her beautiful face, slowly moving down to her bare shoulder and waist, the duvet covering up the rest of her body. You traced her soft, feminine frame onto the paper, your pencil defining each gentle curve of her body while you simultaneously admired even the most minute details about her. It might have been a bit strange, it might have been unnerving to some, but you didn’t even think about it. You were simply drawing, yearning to replicate, immortalize, the beauty that you saw.

Your gaze remained on her face, the pencil in your hand halting for a moment. You felt overcome with reverence for her beauty, your mind remaining in awe of her ethereal appearance that somehow went much deeper than the surface. You couldn’t describe the experience adequately enough, her demeanor somehow shining through her exterior. Maybe it was something only you could see, maybe it was a mere figment of your imagination, but whatever it was, it was beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous. It was reflected in every aspect of her appearance. You saw it in the way her long lashes only barely fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt away. You saw it in those plump lips that were paler and drier than normal, the unmoisturized surface revealing the thin lines on the delicate skin. You saw it in each loose hair strand that curled against the ivory of her face and shoulder, in every gorgeous mole on her cheek. You saw the experience in its entirety in each captivating component of her face that formed the raw beauty that she possessed.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but eventually your full bladder demanded your attention and you straightened yourself upright to fix the non-ergonomic hunch that you had sat in, abandoning your sketch to go into the bathroom. You made sure to fix up your appearance and brush your teeth to get more comfortable, no other reason, just to get the day started. You were totally not expecting to pick up where you had left off with Natasha the night before. No. You flushed the toilet, sprayed some of that average-priced perfume of yours on your wrists and immediately rubbed most of it off when you realized that you had a professional spy in your bedroom who would take one sniff at you and know that you had put on perfume for her. You didn’t want to come off as desperate. You washed your face, wiping the sleep off your eyes, your skin regaining its radiance and freshness with a layer of moisturizer.

When you returned into the bedroom, to your surprise, Natasha was awake, sitting casually against the headboard with the sketchbook in her hands. You froze, unsure of how she was going to react to the life-like drawing that reflected her appearance with surprising accuracy, even in your own, humble opinion. Her eyes met yours, a smile finding her lips when she was met with your gaze that reminded her a bit of a poor deer caught in headlights. You took a step forward to avoid making the situation even more awkward, slowly returning to bed, Natasha’s eyes dipping down your body to note the fact that you had found clothes.

“How do you do it?” She asked in awe, her voice coarse and low from sleep, a gentle flutter going through you. Her eyes went back to the pencil drawing, her fingers caressing the edge of the pages as if itching to flip through the book. Maybe she already had.

“Do what?” You sat down on the bed, burying your cold feet beneath the duvet.

“Make it so realistic.”

“Um…” You chuckled from nerves despite the fact that Natasha had revealed herself to be a fan of art, especially your art. You didn’t have an answer for her. “I don’t know.” She flipped the page, her eyes landing on those obsessive, messy sketches you had made during your lectures, but her level face told you that she had already seen them. Had it been anyone else you would have felt resentment for having your personal belongings snooped through, but for some reason, with her you felt the need to showcase your work. You wanted her to see the sketches, you wanted her opinion, and above all, you hoped to please her with them.

“You’re incredibly talented. I don’t think you realize…”

“No, I’m…”, you chuckled again, feeling awkward for receiving praise, struggling to look her in the eye when you recalled everything she had said to you in bed.

“You don’t see it, do you?” She glanced at you, flipping the page again.

“Probably not.” You leaned closer to look at the sketch of her sitting in art class. “It just… It doesn’t feel right. I know it sounds dumb, but it’s missing that feeling. I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ll know when it’s there.”

“You’re not satisfied. I get that”, she hummed in understanding, going back to the sketch of her sleeping, admiring the dreamy quality that the smudged lead around the edges gave to it.

“Yeah. Anyways, did you sleep well? How’s your body doing?” You didn’t want to focus on your lacking drawing skills, so you sought for a way out of the conversation, bothered by the fact that you had yet again failed to capture her presence in the way you wished to. Natasha smirked.

“Oh, my body is more than okay”, she said knowingly, closing the sketchbook and handing it back to you, her smile wearing off on you.

“I meant your injuries.” You huffed out a small laugh.

“They’re alright. I’ll live.”

“Good.” You couldn’t stop smiling, staring at her for inappropriately long as she sat there in your sheets, naked with her messy curls. “Are you hungry?” You should have already known the answer to that, Natasha’s smirk turning into a wild grin.

“Oh, boy, am I.” Her eyes dropped down to your tank top, her lower lip finding itself clamped between her teeth as she took in the lace hemming of your shirt that matched with the waistband of your underwear. You might have put on a set just to please her. She glanced up at you briefly before her eyes took in the shape of your breasts that could be seen through the thin material, her hand reaching for your arm. “Come here.” You crawled closer to her, gladly allowing her to pull you into her embrace, a small giggle falling from your lips when she buried her face into your neck. “How do you look so good, hmm?” She opened her mouth, biting down gently to hear you squeal, Natasha chuckling quietly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “How did I find myself a girl this pretty?” You laughed again, warmth stirring within you from the way your body pressed into hers, your mind painfully aware of the fact that she was fully nude.

“By having taste”, you scoffed playfully, Natasha pulling back just so you could see her roll her eyes, but the gesture was nothing if not loving.

“Oh, she’s sassy too, I see”, she hummed a bit teasingly as if to herself.

“Would you want me to be more coy, more submissive?” Your tone was laced with sarcasm. You had no intention to be anything but yourself, although there was room for persuasion. She would merely have to say the words. “I can be anything you want as long as I’m yours.” It was all meant to be a playful, little tease, but you did want confirmation that everything that had been said the night before hadn’t just been sex-crazed confessions that meant nothing outside of the four walls of your bedroom. You could tell that your words got to her, those jade eyes turning hungry, her gaze lingering on your lips as her hand found your waist.

“You’re mine, detka”, she whispered, your cheeks heating violently at the low tone of her voice, arousal pooling in your lower abdomen. Oh, dear god. You gave her a smile, excitement beaming through the gesture.

“Good.” You had no words for the intense feeling of belonging that you experienced in her arms. You just knew you were meant to be there and nowhere else.

“Now I can cross ‘sassy girlfriend’ off my bucket list”, she mused, her sleepy eyes playful.

“You have a bucket list?” You asked in suspicion, wrapping your arms around her neck to stay close.

“No. Or I did, but you were the only thing on it”, she said jokingly, your laughter resonating in the otherwise quiet room.

She pulled you closer, her lips finding the side of your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, her fingers sliding the strap of your top down to get it out of the way, the material drooping lower on your breasts. She kissed the bare expanse of your chest, guiding you to lie down beside her on the bed, her lips remaining glued to your body. She moved to your side, a quiet groan of pain falling from her lips. Her movements were slow and controlled, clearly limited by the ache in her ribs, but she seemed relatively unaffected. She pulled back from you, propping her head into the palm of her hand so she could look down at you, her free hand pulling you flush against her naked body. You loved how comfortable she seemed with you, her nudity only solidifying the impression she was giving you. She didn’t mind being seen by you, maybe she even wanted it specifically, your eyes dropping down to her soft breasts. They were pale, her nipples hard from the cold air they were exposed to, a couple of red marks lingering on her skin from the night before. You didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were beyond pleased to be so close to her, your mouth finding her breast on its own as her fingers sank into your hair only to bring you even closer. She couldn’t resist you and your warm mouth, her body leaning into you automatically, searching for more as she carded her fingers through your hair.

Natasha got more comfortable on the bed, her leg hooking over your body as her fingers trailed down your upper back, a small smile that you couldn’t see lingering on her lips. You kissed her chest, locating her collarbones in the process of going up to her neck. You felt the soft moan that she let out, the gentle vibration reaching your lips as you kissed up her throat, your body reacting to the sound with sudden vigor, a happy grin finding your lips. The feeling was so intense that the smile was incapable of holding back your giggle. Natasha responded to it with one of her own as she rolled you into the sheets, her laughter flowing into a melodic chuckle that warmed your heart. She rested her weight over you, returning your kisses with loud and sloppy ones, her warm, wet mouth tickling your ear and neck. You arched into her, savoring the comfort that her toned frame brought you, your arms wrapping around her waist to keep her close. She pulled back enough to see your face, observing you for a long moment, her hand coming up to caress your jaw with the very tips of her fingers as she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind”, she pointed out quietly, her fingers moving into your hair to play with it as she shifted her body slightly to the side, settling beside you with her head propped up by her elbow. You held her gaze for a moment, your cheeks warming up from how intimate it all felt.

“Last night, you said you didn’t wanna risk my safety. What did you mean by that?” You felt your insides twist from arousal as you recalled the very moment she had said those words. Natasha acquired a look of mild worry onto her features, her smile fading away.

“My work is… well, dangerous, to put it lightly. It’s why I prefer being single, being alone. It makes everything easier because I won’t have to worry about anyone coming after the ones I love, if there’s no one to love.” You felt the sad frown on your face before you even registered the emotion, your eyes returning to her solemn face. “I tried to keep it that way, but you…” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched onto her lips, her hand cupping your face as her gaze roamed all over your features. “You made it impossible.”

“Does this mean someone is gonna assassinate me?” You asked in a lighter tone to ease the sudden glumness in the atmosphere, but Natasha didn’t allow herself to laugh.

“No”, she mumbled quietly, tugging you closer as if to protect you from the nonexistent dangers of your bedroom. “You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” You nodded your head, your entire body burning up in scorching flames from the subtle display of protectiveness. Oh, good god, what a woman.

“I have another question.”

“Let’s hear it then.” She gave you a small smirk, clearly pleased by your curious nature.

“Was it really just a coincidence that we ran into each other at the mall?” Natasha looked away, her sly smirk telling you everything you needed to know, your face breaking into an astonished grin.

“No”, she mumbled quietly, as if unwilling to admit to such a thing. “I followed you there.” You looked at her with your round eyes, unable to believe what she was saying.

“And your friend?”

“There was no friend. I had a day off, and nothing better to do.” She chuckled softly, continuing with her explanation. “I was gonna go to your campus, but then I saw you walking toward the subway and, well…”

“Wow, you’re such a creep”, you huffed sarcastically, Natasha rolling her eyes.

“Yeah? Shall we take another look at your sketchbook? Talk about a creep”, she countered in amusement, tickling your side teasingly, a small squeak escaping you.

“I’m so glad it wasn’t just me”, you said in a giggle, pushing her hand away as if you would have actually been against her touching you. She chuckled at the little squeal you let out.

“It wasn’t just you.” She kissed your forehead again, her hand moving down to the hem of your shirt, sliding up your front to rest over your bare sternum where she could very clearly feel your erratic heart thud against your ribs.

Breakfast was delayed by wet, sloppy kisses that trailed down your chest, both of you thoroughly appreciative of the comforting atmosphere of your bedroom until your rumbling stomachs got too loud to be ignored. The only problem was that you didn’t have any groceries, none, absolutely nothing, if you didn’t count the box of uncooked pasta and a bag of flour that both sat on your otherwise empty shelves. You really should have been taking much better care of your eating habits. You could always go out for breakfast. Manhattan had an assortment of amazing diner options, but you didn’t want to leave your cozy apartment because you feared that it was going to ruin the perfectly domestic atmosphere that you and Natasha had created for yourselves. Additionally, your protective side refused to let her walk more than a couple of feet with what may very well have been a case of broken ribs.

You switched the coffee maker on while Natasha washed the remnants of sleep off her face in the bathroom. You lent her more clothing options, all your skincare and lotions, even managing to find a spare toothbrush for her, willing to do just about anything to make her comfortable. And when you said anything, you truly meant anything.

“Hey, Nat, I’m gonna go across the hall real quick! I’ll be right back!” You hollered through the closed door of the bathroom, receiving an affirmative response before you exited your apartment and made your way to Mrs. Verlice’s door. You knocked on it, feeling your heart stutter from nerves. You really hated to be that kind of a neighbor, but it was your best option. The door opened, Mrs. Verlice taking a long, hard look at you as you stood there awkwardly on her doormat.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but… would you happen to have any bread?” You felt mortified for even asking, but she was the only person in the building who you had ever spoken to, and she was your best shot.

“Bread? For what?” She grumbled, her eyes studying your pajamas and morning slippers.

“Yeah, I kind of don’t have any food at home. I was gonna go shopping yesterday but something came up and…” Mrs. Verlice squinted at you.

“That woman”, she noted with sudden confidence. She knew for a fact that someone had come over to your apartment, and you knew that her peeping hole was to blame for all the spying she had done.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not in any trouble, are ya?” She eyed you intensely, calculating every square inch of your body to try to figure out your situation, eyes lingering on your neck. You might have had a hickey there.

“Oh, no, no. Nothing of the sort. See… I got a friend over and…” God, why did it have to be so awkward. “I just need something to feed her”, you chuckled jokingly, but you really did need something Natasha could eat. She was starving, she must have been. Mrs. Verlice smiled knowingly.

“She’s not vegan or whatever the hell that is?” There was a very clear hint of disdain in her tone. You gave her a small smile, trying to appeal to her to the best of your abilities.

“No.”

“Alright. Wait here.” And so, you waited, patiently listening to Mrs. Verlice explain the situation to her husband as the sound of dishes clinking carried into the hallway. You couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, or why it took so long for her to find a couple of slices of bread, but you soon received your answer when she returned with a whittle basket filled with food, your eyes widening in shock.

“Oh, no. You shouldn’t have. I would have been fine with just the bread”, you protested softly, truly appalled by her generosity. She shook her head dismissively.

“I got nine kids. I’m used to feeding a bunch of rascals”, she huffed, a small smile caressing her lips for just a moment as she recalled each of her children, her mind most likely filled with many memories of the now adult children that had once been your age and younger.

“Thank you”, you whispered, accepting the heavy basket, your brows furrowing into a small frown. “Is there anything I could do to repay you? I have money, or if you want me to draw you something-“

“No. You take that food and go. Make your girlfriend happy”, she said in a definitive tone, the use of that specific term catching you off-guard. You almost wanted to ask her what she meant by it, if she knew about your sexuality, but you decided against it, finding it unnecessary. “Johnny’s had too much bacon anyway. His arteries are about to burst, cholesterol through the roof.” You laughed quietly at her comment.

“Thank you again. I’ll make this up to you. I promise.” Mrs. Verlice didn’t say a word, simply waved her hand in a rather indifferent way and slammed the door in your face. You turned around and headed back into your apartment to set up breakfast for your very own Avenger.

“Where the hell did you find all this? I thought you didn’t have anything. How long was I in the bathroom?” Natasha asked in astonishment, walking over to the small dining table with her brow arched. Her gait seemed a bit better after a full night of sleep. She looked down at the assortment of food, finding a stack of pancakes, toast with sunny side up eggs, bacon, and a carton of orange juice.

“I have superpowers”, you said playfully, adding your jar of jam and another of peanut butter on the table, chuckling softly, Natasha squinting your way, walking right past the dinner table to you, her lips pressing down on the top of your head in a chaste kiss.

“It’s from that old lady across the hall, isn’t it?” She was far too good at her job not to put the puzzle pieces together by herself.

“Yeah.”

You both sat down at the table, gladly digging in on the delicious breakfast, your aching stomachs finally at ease after the long wait they had endured. There was a comfortable silence that engulfed you as you ate your food, Natasha’s foot resting against your own under the table, her toes occasionally brushing against your foot or ankle. She liked to be connected to you in whatever way was accessible, her body craving to be near you. The meal stretched on for much longer than you had anticipated. You made more coffee for the both of you, returning to the dining table with your sketchbook in hand, a spark of inspiration finding its way back to you with sudden confidence. You needed to capture her aura, and as impossible as it sounded, you felt like you could do it. The setting felt perfect in a way you couldn’t explain, the gloomy weather outside wrapping the moment in a warm and fuzzy veil of comfort that contrasted perfectly with the radiant happiness that billowed from your small apartment. The dark clouds of the sky, the wet, browning leaves outside surrounding you with a certain ubiquity, Natasha’s light, your light, shining through like a splash of vermillion against the dull grays of autumn. You needed to capture that contrast, that moment, in your notebook, in your drawing, painting, whatever. It didn’t matter which medium you used, you simply needed to capture it by any means possible, and a pencil and your trusty sketchbook happened to be the most accessible option.

Natasha sipped on her coffee, eyeing you curiously as you started sketching again, your eyes going back and forth between her and the pages in front of you. She could see the way the sketch formed through a practiced process of defining shapes, her eyes following along as you drew her seated position across the round table. She remained still on her own, not requiring any instructions from you. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, unless to take a sip of her coffee, maintaining her position for you without questioning it. She could see from your eyes that you had a specific vision that you were looking to fulfill, and she would have never dared to disrupt your creative process when she could so clearly see that you were fully in your element, reaching for something that only you could see.

Over the course of her career as a model, and as a spy, she had taken a liking to observing people. She had no problem sitting opposite of another person as an object of their observation because the other person was as much of an object as she was. Natasha had an undeniably good opportunity to form a very meticulous judge of character from her spot as a silent observer. She had learned to read the most minute details of a person’s facial expressions, and she was capable of making many very thoroughly rationalizable judgments about those who thought that only they were doing the observing. Sometimes people would forget her presence altogether, but contrary to popular belief, that was when her game of observing got infinitely better. That was when people’s true identities and personalities came out to play, and she would get a front row seat to the wonders of their minds, which was exactly why she had no problem posing for you for as long as you would possibly need her to. She enjoyed sitting still and being quiet, grateful to get yet another peek at your creative side. It had been all too long since she had last felt those calculating, admiring eyes on her.

The sketch came along with surprising ease, your hand flying over the paper in gentle strokes of your pencil. You defined the outline of her frame, shaping in her hair, her face, her shoulders, her knit sweater. You left the room a couple of times to find a different grade of graphite, searching for a deeper contrast, looking to make the drawing truly pop up from the paper. You even got a couple of colored pencils to map out the color palette of the moment, the feeling, that you were chasing after. You hadn’t decided to make a painting of her, or any colored piece for that matter, but the process seemed to flow into that direction on its own. You couldn’t resist it, wanting to remember all the colors that you felt within that moment, the contrast of warm and cold, dark and light, and above all, the harmony they created.

It took you an hour, nearly two, to finish the small, relaxed sketch you had made of her, the attention to detail having demanded more of your time, but it was all worth the effort. You looked down at your sketchbook, an intense sense of rightness consuming you. The drawing was done, and you could finally feel that specific feeling, her energy, transmit to the viewer through the image. You felt Natasha’s soft, unyielding presence that always demanded your attention, when you looked at the drawing, her regal composure coming through in a casual, quiet way. She looked divine in a mundane sense, her steadfast demeanor shining through the relaxed pose as she sat before the breakfast setting, a half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of her. You stood up from your chair, a wild grin on your lips as you made your way to Natasha, kissing her from pure joy.

“You’re perfect. Ah, you’re perfect! Magnificent”, you mumbled between kisses, Natasha’s chuckle getting muffled by your mouth. “I could actually squeal right now. I could squeal like a little kid getting candy for breakfast… and it’s all because of you”, you said, Natasha’s expression matching your wide smile as she pushed herself back on her chair enough to fit you between her and the table. You followed her silent urging and straddled her lap, her hands falling automatically to your hips, sliding down to your buttocks, fingertips rubbing gently over the thin flannel you wore.

“Squeal away”, she chuckled, looking up at you with a small smile, her hands wandering down your thighs as if massaging you absentmindedly. You could barely take it, your heightened emotions reacting to her touch in an instant. You needed to kiss her again, so you did. “Can I see it?” She asked as you pulled away from the chaste kiss.

“Uh-huh.” You reached across the table for the sketchbook to bring it between you, Natasha’s eager eyes finding the finished drawing. She looked at it for a moment, studying the very detailed image of how you saw her, her gaze lingering on the lead that marked the paper, slowly moving to the color wheel you had mapped out onto the next page.

“It’s beautiful. I love it”, she hummed quietly, glancing up at your face that was filled with excitement.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I can feel it. The thing you said about that specific feeling. Something’s different here.” Her eyes moved back down to the pages, her thumbs stroking over your waist in a way that made it harder for you to focus on her words.

“What do you feel?” You asked in curiosity, searching for her eyes, a small smile finding Natasha’s lips as she took the notebook from your hands and placed it behind you on the table, pulling you flush against her. She kissed you firmly, her left hand trailing up your back and into your hair, her right one pulling your hips closer to her lap. Had she not been injured she wouldn’t have wasted another second at the kitchen table, but her bruised ribs wouldn’t allow her to stand up without difficulty, let alone carry you into your bedroom, so she stayed there in the fading scent of bacon and pancakes, her tongue caressing the seam of your lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Instead of giving her access, you pulled away, a smug look on your face. “Now you’re just giving me a lady boner.”

“Wow, what an eloquent way to put it”, she chuckled, warmed by the mirth that shone in your eyes.

“For lack of a better term”, you mumbled, leaning back in to kiss her. “But seriously, what do you feel?” Natasha didn’t even glance at the drawing, a hint of something that you couldn’t quite decipher on her face as she looked at you, your gazes locked together as if neither of you could do anything but look at one another.

“I just feel you”, she whispered earnestly. You looked into her impossibly green eyes, feeling like you were going to drown in the coolness of her forest green irises that reminded you of pine trees and heavy rain. “I feel adored and respected. I feel beautiful… all the things that I feel when you look at me.”

“You are beautiful.” You cupped her face with your hands, studying her unique features before gently ghosting your finger over the wound on her head. It had healed shut, but you should have probably put a bandage of some sorts on it. Your eyes met again, your fingertips sliding into her hair to push it back enough to see her face in all its glory. Your lips were mere inches away from hers, her weak breath fanning over your chin as you played with her thick locks, observing her features as up-close as humanly possible. You kissed her slowly, so slowly that you were teasing yourself more than you were teasing her, your underwear suddenly more than uncomfortable. “Wanna take care of my lady boner?” You asked in a playful, little quip, Natasha bursting into laughter, her face finding your neck to muffle the sound. You couldn’t help but to laugh along with her, the sound mixing with her low, melodic laugh, creating a soft harmony.

“I’d be honored to.” You giggled quietly, her mouth tickling your neck in a way that made your back arch. “Come on, sweetheart.” She patted your thigh gently, prompting you to get up. You didn’t make it farther than the living room couch before she was laying on top of you, her lips beelining to the waistband of your pants as you squirmed against the cushions, a ridiculous, sappy smile on your face when you remembered that every single other person in your class was sitting on a lecture, listening to the professor talk about something boring while you had a redheaded woman –your girlfriend– going down on you, her firm hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

A/N: Only epilogue left!

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cheesus-doodles · 1 year ago

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Going Home: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

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Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

I kept my promise!! Editing tmr, I'm dead on my feet rn

The neighborhood that Takemichi and Naoto found themselves in was a far cry from the dazzling city lights of Shibuya City that Draken once called home: a suburb outside of the bustling city, where houses and apartments alike that lined the streets as far as the eye can see with the occasional shop breaking the facade. Yet even with the shop entrance nestled off on a side alley, the roads still noticeably buzzed with life as the time drew closer to noon, the hustle and bustle of non-stop traffic and office workers swarming through town that Takemichi remembered had instead been replaced smaller, livelier groups of students filing past with nay a glance at the duo, too caught up in their chatter and gossip of the day.

It was jarring, the former Toman member had to admit, watching the rest of the world go by uncaringly at its own relaxed pace when compared against the urgency of the sticky situation he was in the midst of. Whatever time he spent in the present was time that he couldn’t spend twelve years in the past fixing the future after all. Blue eyes nervously glanced around at every passing soul, before they turned to meet gray ones for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure this is the right place?” The former delinquent asked again, anxiously wringing his hands. He couldn’t help himself, even if Naoto’s sympathetic look had long given way to an annoyed frown. “Maybe we should ring again?”

"No, just give it a minute."

Something felt wrong, yet this ordinary bike shop was precisely where the detective’s digging had pointed him too, the name on the business license unmistakable. So why did it feel so strange? So out-of-place? Takemichi glanced at the shop sign again, the unlit signboard ominously looming over the small alley.

The questions quickly faded as footsteps started to thunder down what must have been a flight of steps after the doorbell announced their presence outside the nondescript motorcycle shop, the sound of annoyed mumbling growing louder as the footsteps approached. Takemichi held his breath. The door rattled for a brief moment before it was yanked open.

"What?"

The single word was growled out before the figure behind the door was fully visible, and Takemichi’s soul nearly left his body as he came face to face with a clearly pissed off Draken. The former Vice Captain of Toman had only grown taller and more intimidating with every passed year, and now twelve years in the future, he made for one formidable figure, blond hair now back to its natural black. A minute of silence as Draken looked between the two, before recognition sparked behind those abyss eyes. “Takemichi?”

“It’s me,” was all said man managed to squeak back.

Letting out a sigh, the bike mechanic dressed in overalls visibly relaxed, the hand clutching a wrench dropping to hang loosely by his side. “It’s been years.”

"It has been," Takemichi nervously laughed, before waving over to a very calm Naoto. “This is Naoto, a friend of mine.”

"So what do the two of you want?"

Straight to the point huh. The time leaper took a gulp of air, steeling his nerves. “W-well, um, Draken-kun, we actually wanted to ask about the… seventh founding member of Toman.” They wanted to ask about you was what Takemichi wanted to say, but all those instances of being drilled again and again by Chifuyu to avoid saying your name at all costs twelve years ago stopped his heavy tongue from spitting it out.

Another pause as the larger man stared him down, and this time, the stillness was palpable. Takemichi could feel the sweat rolling down the side of his head, waiting for a reaction. His gut only churned more. This was not good.

Quicker than he could see, the next thing the time traveller could process was him being lifted cleanly off the ground by the front of his shirt, his face suddenly leveled with a furious Draken’s. “What?” The Toman founder hissed, the vein on his forehead throbbing. “Wanna repeat that?”

Fuck.

ㅤ

Slamming the door shut behind him, the once-Toman Vice President cursed under his breath as he stormed out from the back room. How fucking dare he. How dare Takemichi come asking for information on you. He had been inches from turning that turd face into a smear on the ground for soiling the memory of you with his thoughts.

Yet for all the anger smeared across his face in plain sight for customers and passers-by alike to see, it was an uncomfortable turmoil that brewed in the base of his gut, one that Draken knew came from a lack of closure. Of course he had been keeping his ear to the ground all these years - how could he not, when you meant and still mean the world to him - but the last thing he expected to happen today would be to be reminded of you and your sudden disappearance twelve years ago and the quick downfall of everything else that followed. You had always been the center of the Tokyo Manji Gang, after all.

In a vain attempt to distract himself from the sudden flurry of memories and thoughts, the former delinquent picked up a socket wrench and pulled out a stool. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, Draken tried to convince himself, busying his hands with loosening the bolts of a motorcycle engine; all Takemichi and his detective friend had brought were more questions instead of answers, but he was certain that he would have heard of any news regarding you.

A buzz as the bell to the backroom door went off once more, and every last shred of concentration the man with the dragon tattoo had left instantly went down the gutter. His mind leapt straight back to Takemichi as the vulgarities and curses started to flow once more. If it was that bastard again with his questions, he swears- “What?!” He barked out as the door flew open once more with a bang, not sparing a second glance as to who it was.

But it wasn’t the two black mobs of hair he had expected to see standing outside, instead being greeted by an awfully familiar swish of a ponytail that Draken hadn’t seen in years, the green of an apron with the logo of a pet shop striking against the backdrop of a dull, gray alley. Those distinct yellow eyes of Baji, once sharp and methodical, were instead completely blown wide with panic, the other shoving the screen of a smartphone straight at him. “It’s- it’s-” The words died away before they could leave his tongue; the former Toman’s First Division Captain clearly too shocked by something to say a hello or even notice Draken’s foul mood. And the temperamental pet shop delinquent would have never let that kind of tone drop without a fight.

The motorcycle engineer simply snatched up the phone to take a better look himself. “What am I looking at?” A pause, a sudden silence as Draken continued to squint at the screen while Baji collected his thoughts and emotions.

“It’s her.”

Draken almost dropped the phone as soon as the other blurted out those two laden words. “What?” The man muttered, his voice lost to disbelief. He knew, of course, who Baji was referring to. “That’s not possible.” It simply wasn’t. He would have known if you had been seen.

“Look.” Snatching back his phone, Baji clicked into one of his conversations, before turning the screen back around. “A message from her number. Yesterday night. I only saw it when I woke up.”

Draken’s mind instantly jumped to his earlier visit, and Takemichi’s probing questions about you. Was this related? Did he know something that Draken did not? Logic told the tattooed man otherwise - as much as he would have liked for you to have appeared out of thin air, there must be a different explanation. “Could it have been Mikey?” It must be, since they both knew that Bonten had continued to maintain your number all these years, Mikey having never really gotten over your sudden disappearance.

“So you don’t know about this either, huh?” The once First Division Captain shook his head, frowning as he concentrated. “Why would he send something like this?”

And that was true: the way the message started with a very hesitant “to whoever this number now belongs to” and directly addressed to a “hopefully Baji-kun”, there was no doubt that it must be you. What was the chance someone else with the same name as you would also know that this was Baji’s personal number? But how?

Any conversation left between the two died away, the two men left to ponder. The world, of course, simply kept turning, passersby eagerly making their way to unknown destinations, strolling past the small alley without a second glance at the duo, while the occasional vehicle rattled and raced down wide, empty roads.

Letting out a sigh, Draken stepped aside, waving at his once close-friend into the dimly-lit backroom. “I think you best come in. I’ll close up shop for the day.”

ㅤ

Twelve years in the past, despite your best efforts, you once again found yourself in the thick of things.

You sighed. “This is a bit of an overkill, don’t you think boys?” The rattling of chains seemed to agree with you, the metal links rubbing and clanking against each other as they followed the cuffed hand you raised to shake amusedly at the Toman founders huddled around you. Back twelve years in the past and once more separate from Takemichi’s time leaping woes, things were hardly going any better for you. “I’m really not going anywhere, I promise.”

To no one’s surprise, the boys disagreed, and they were far from afraid to make that known despite your assurances; you could tell from the tightening clutches and tugging on your shirt, and that was if you could ignore the immediate protests and whining and whimpering that broke out. But you couldn’t really blame them, you suppose, musing to yourself as you rested your chin atop a shifty Mikey’s head, unchained hand moving to gently hold Draken’s much larger one as Kazutora tried his best to snuggle his way into the crook of your neck and probably under your skin as well. After all, it had been just a single night since you had made your sudden reappearance in the small alley a stone’s throw away from your school in a gust of wind, and three nights since you first disappeared. You were sure this was the first and longest time your boys had been apart from you ever since they entered your life.

“You did disappear though,” Mitsuya’s voice cut above the others, those dark, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of his and everyone else’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “And we still haven’t figured out what caused you to… vanish.”

“To time travel,” you corrected gently. It was easy to tell that the delinquents around you were still uncertain about how you managed to slip their grasp without their knowledge, let alone accept the idea of you having somehow leapt into the future, somewhere that they were unable to follow you to. They had always been protective of you, perhaps because of the difference between their strength and yours.

Allowing your gaze to take a wander away from the mobs of hair of various colors gathered around you, your bedroom was exactly how you remembered it had been even twelve years in the future, your belongings having been left in the exact same spot all those years. Well, aside from the unmade bed where you had fallen asleep amidst the pile of delinquents the previous night, that is. Your present blankets were left still tossed aside into a messy pile, and you couldn’t help but wonder how your Toman friends knew how to fold them back the same way you always had. Did they also take turns keeping your home clean all those years? You wondered if they had managed to share such a difficult task that would have carried so many possibly painful memories. Which inevitably led your line of thought straight back to the various questions that had been plaguing your mind: where was the future you? What happened to Mikey that left him in such a state? And where were the rest of your Toman friends?

Yet all you had were more and more questions. Shaking yourself out of your ponderings, you focused your gaze back onto the lively group of delinquents. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but it’s probably linked to the onomori you boys gave me for safekeeping.” The same purple-and-gold charm from the very founding of the gang, the same onomori that had been stabbed during that life-threatening attack on Ken-chin you tried in vain to stop, the same one that Sanzu had accidentally discovered could summon you back from the future: it now hung from a metal chain under said Vice Captain’s shirt, pressed tight against his sternum where it could get constant skin contact, and more importantly, safe from the grabby fingers of Mikey and Kazutora.

The blond-haired delinquent with the intimidating dragon tattoo only instinctively reached for the onomori once more, as if to assure himself it was still there, the collar of his shirt crumpling as he closed his fist around the bloodstained, amateurishly-patched charm. Now that they had it, you mused, there shouldn’t be any more issues.

Baji, who had earlier been shoved aside by a bawling Kazutora, grumpily poked your side, and you jumped a little in response. “So what happens in the future?” The black-haired boy asked, as you beckoned him closer, patting an empty spot to your right where he could lean up against your shoulder.

Ah, you had hoped that their line of thought wouldn’t have gone there. Because how were you supposed to respond? You hesitated, the white-haired bony, tired figure of the future Mikey roaring straight back to the front of your mind with that question. Should you be telling them about the future? Sure that would be the easiest way to ensure that that particular timeline never happened, given you were sure this would be the first time your boys will have ever heard of this predicament you found yourself in, but what if you accidentally changed the future for the worse? What if you did something irreversible that only made a bigger mess?

Maybe it would be better if you kept things to yourself first - you could always tell them the full truth later on if you needed to. Keeping that in mind, you were quick to school your face back to a neutral expression, though the brief flash of internal panic across your face at that question was enough to raise suspicion. Kazutora instantly leapt to his feet, tears that had already been dried starting to well once more at the corner of reddened eyes, lips starting to quaver once more as he jabbed a finger in your direction. “Y-you left us,” his word ladened with accusation, those sandy brown eyes clouding over as the waterworks flowed. “You did, didn’t you? You m-married someone else in the future.”

And he sounded so convinced by his own words too, you amusedly noted, as if it had already happened because he said so. “I did not,” you stated simply, reaching over to affectionately pat his knee. “I told you, you boys will always be my priority.” You weren’t sure how the delinquent with the duo-colored hair came to that particular conclusion, though you supposed it was simply just jealous.

Draken raised an imposing eyebrow. “And you don’t want to tell us what happens because?”

“Because I’m afraid it changes the future for the worse.”

“What can you tell us?”

You hummed, your eyes glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as you thought before returning to meet Draken’s gaze. “My room was still exactly the same in the future.”

“Really?” Pah looked intrigued at the idea.

“Yup! Whoever did it did a good job too, my blankets were even folded back neatly.”

Outside, your neighbor was quiet as it always was right at noon, with students yet to be released from their classes and workers still congregated under the big city lights. It was strange, looking over roads and houses that you knew would stand the test of time, leaving you to wonder if the neighbors you were well-acquainted with still occupied their homes in the future you came from. Letting out a sigh as you leaned back onto your bedroom wall, you stretched out lazily as best as you could. “Say,” you ventured. “Did you happen to meet future me?”

Kazutora sniffled, just as Mikey lifted his head to stare blankly at you, as if your question had been asked in Martian. “W-what?” “What?”

”Nothing,” you hastily concluded. Seems like the ‘future you’ was somehow missing, and you noted that down mentally in case you needed that.

ㅤ

Thankfully the subject of your apparently strange question was dropped before you had to elaborate any further on your awkward question, with dirty looks immediately being exchanged between the two still clung to you, though the black-and-yellow haired boy’s ire was quickly stolen

You hadn’t missed Mitsuya’s unwillingness to mingle with the rest for the entire length of the time the six boys had been gathered, the lilac-haired boy keeping a careful distance from Kazutora in particular, nor did you miss Kazutora’s and Mikey’s seeming aversion to each other’s presence as well, the ugly stink eyes they shot at each other over your shoulders while attempting to jab at each other when they thought you weren’t looking hard to pass over. It was clear that your disappearance had sparked a fight between the Toman founders, and though the exact details were still lost on you, it wouldn’t do to leave this crack to split any further as far as you could help it. Huffing at Kazutora’s more insistent grip around your waist, an indulgent smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you beckoned at Mitsuya to join the huddle, before your hand moved to gently stroke a pouting Mikey’s back. “Have you boys been fighting again?”

“No.” “No.” The immediate denials, combined with their gazes instantly dropping from yours, were suspicious to say the least. You imagined that they had, in fact, been fighting while you were lost to the flow of time. You wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Tutting, you dished out forehead kisses to the beefing delinquents, feeling them melt away against you. “If I cook some tempura for everyone for lunch, would you be willing to make up?”

You didn’t need to wait long to get your answer.

ㅤ

Days started to pass, the hours slipping through your fingers like water. Every minute brought you further and further from your little trip to the future, your disappearance from this present. Your boys had yet to let up with their obsessive observations of you as you expected. It had, after all, just been four days since your return. You simply took it in stride, having no qualms about them wanting to tail you anywhere and everywhere, clinging to a limb or to your back as you went about your day; it definitely beat being confined to just your bedroom and cuffed to your bedpost. With enough reassurances about how you really wouldn’t leave them, and that no, you couldn’t control your time traveling, you even managed to convince your delinquents to let you back out into the wider world for accompanied trips to the supermarket and snack shops. School, however, was still out of the question for the foreseeable future (you tried).

The afternoon sky overhead was unusually overcast, the threat of rain only growing more convincing with every passing minute. Strong gusts of wind rattled windows and doors, ferrying the heavy gray clouds straight in your direction as the humidity only seemed to climb higher and higher, and you were very certain that a thunderstorm was brewing despite the continued absence of thunder. Yet here you were, you mused, as you sat on a curb with a drink in hand, alone outside for the first time in a week while you waited for Baji to settle some differences with the other delinquents inside the store. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been left truly alone ever since your disappearance, though clearly, Baji not wanting you to watch him fight sat higher on the priority list. It probably wasn’t going to take long anyway.

A pause as you scratched mindlessly at your skin under the cuff. Did Baji from the future also like to fight as much as your current Baji?

Despite the possibility of you returning to that particular future being close to zero in your opinion, given that the boys had a good handle on that purple-gold charm, but you couldn’t help but think back on the white-haired Mikey from the future that had melted in your arms, that you had left behind. Ah no, not left behind, you corrected yourself, as you tried to wave away the instant guilt that settled in your heart. Technically - technically it was just one of many possible futures, and that particular future where your friend had suffered so much could have already been changed.

But something deep in your gut told you that you were wrong. Pushing that line of thinking to the back of your head, you instead opted to amuse yourself with the shenanigans of the past few days as you waited.

You had, for one, been cooking almost non-stop for your boys ever since your return: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks. Unusual, certainly, and you didn’t have to of course: no one was forcing you to, even if your clingy trio had the strongest pouty faces and watery eyes you knew, but you did feel like you had to make it up to them for all the worry. You did however get a lot of amusement attempting to send them to the supermarket with a grocery list.

And then there was the matter of Sanzu and the residue guilt that you couldn’t shake off. Sure, this Sanzu was not the same as the pink-haired man from the future with the crazy eyes, but you still wanted to put things right. Consoling yourself that even if it did change the future, a Sanzu that you were on amicable terms on was much better than dealing with someone that absolutely hated your guts for reasons beyond you, and apologizing in advance never caused any harm. It did take a lot of pleading, cajoling and outright bribery, but you finally manage to get Mikey and Draken to reluctantly agree to allow you to meet with the Fifth Division Vice Captain, though the two did remain very suspicious of how you knew the other.

Your lips were sealed from any further details, and you said your apologies and your thanks without giving out much information to the confusion of the boy with the mask, though thankfully for everyone involved, the meeting went rather uneventfully. Much to your dismay, the other was most likely forbidden from speaking to you, simply opting to listen quietly and then nodding at the end of your rambling, but you didn’t want to give him any more trouble - you didn’t trust your boys’ usual excuse that Sanzu was just quiet by nature and didn’t like to talk; they have been using that excuse for years by now. At least, you comforted yourself, you did manage to slip him another bag of karaage while a pouting Mikey was distracted.

You breathed out, watching another car whizz by as you took a sip from the bottle of iced tea. Beaded sweat that clung to your hair was dabbed off with a handkerchief, the humidity of the already hot afternoon only rising as the rain-laden clouds, gray from their load, rolled threateningly closer.

ㅤ

Glancing at your watch, you decided that it had been a long enough period of time for you to venture back into the small shop, the plastic bag hanging from your wrist rustling as you stood - your delinquent friend should be about done by now. But all you managed to take was a single step before you were quickly stopped once more. “Oh-” You blinked, shaking off the surprise, the black of the other’s shirt that you ran into momentarily blocking your entire field of vision. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

An annoyed tsk was all you earned it seemed as you quickly moved aside, and as your gaze was raised from the ground to meet the other, your obstacle was quickly revealed to be a boy with streaked yellow and blue hair, pierced violet eyes staring down at you through the circle lens of gold-rimmed glasses. A face you didn’t recognize from anywhere, not even the future. One that you would usually apologize again, write to the back of your mind, and then quickly move on to avoid any trouble, though the trailing blood leaking from the other’s nose and the bruises that decorated his face made you pause. “You’re hurt! Are you okay?”

”Fuck off.”

You didn’t let that bother you. “Don’t worry,” you assured, showing the other the scar left on your palm back from when you tried to save Ken-chin from that knife attack. “I’m a professional.”

That seemed to confuse the boy enough for you to leap into action as his violet eyes looked bewilderedly between the small mark and your confident gaze. Whipping open your bag, you produced a small bottle of ointment and a few bandages, basic supplies that you always kept on hand for your own delinquent boys. “What’s your name?” You asked cheerfully as you ever so gently dabbed the dark spots before sticking a bandage over.

“Rindo,” the boy answered. You replied with your own name, and that was that.

Carefully rinsing and repeating your procedure with each bruise till you were done (you were rather surprise he let you, if you were being honest), you passed him a tissue for his nose after with strict instructions to blow out the blood and not swallow it.

The other obediently held the tissue to his nose without complaints, as if silently asking if you were done now and to leave him alone. Not that you noticed, too busy rummaging through the convenience store plastic bag and retrieving a wrapped piece of taiyaki, to which you pressed it into his hand. “Here! For you,” you lifted your own open drink. “Sorry, I only bought one drink.”

The ring of the convenience store door opening again was a bell that cut off any further conversations, and you waved a short bye to your newfound friend before rushing over to meet an exiting and very grumpy Baji.

ㅤ

Once more separated from you by simple time, the gunshot shattered the tension weighing down the freezing air of the refrigerated warehouse, finally silencing the annoying muffled begging as the bullet cleaved through flesh as effortlessly as a butcher’s knife through tuna. A click as the used shell was expelled, yet hushness was quick to fall once more over the warehouse despite the area being far from empty. Mikey exhaled, his warm breath leaving a trail of fog behind in the cold air even as the man simply continued to stare blankly ahead, abyss eyes fixed on some unknown spot off from where the traitor’s head had been just a minute earlier, gun lowered to hang limply by his side.

A stone’s throw away, unusually alert green eyes framed by long pink lashes remained trained on the unmoving Mikey, the corners of Sanzu’s scarred mouth remained downturned as he contemplated what he had just witnessed. Far from the blood and death that bothered the made man, it was rather the sight of Mikey being there amidst the pooling blood instead of him, Bonten’s Hammer. After all, it was rare - unheard of - for the boss to personally bloody his hands with the dirty work, yet this was far from being the first instance of such an exception happening this week alone, be it to rivals, traitors or Bonten members alike. There had been several close calls for even the executives where the various members had found themselves at the business end of Mikey’s gun, Sanzu included, though fortunately there hadn’t been any accidental deaths yet.

And it was clear they remembered the past week’s incidents, Bonten’s Number Two breaking from his thoughts to throw an accusatory glance Kakucho’s way, given how everyone else was happy to let the boss stew, content with their quiet observation from a safe distance. Said black-haired man returned Sanzu’s icy look with a shrug that said everything: no one was too sure what was going to accidentally set Mikey off next, and with how trigger happy the man has been in the past few days, no one was quite keen to find out either.

Which left only Sanzu to do the job - the same man who had just been discharged from hospital after committing the ultimate sin and still very much neck deep in Mikey’s shit list - but still the only person left willing to risk his life. And he didn’t even have any drugs left - that shithead of a doctor in Bonten’s infirmary ward had confiscated his own stash on top of denying him any painkillers. Traitors, the whole lot of them.

The soles of Sanzu’s handcrafted shoes crunched atop the icy floor as he hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of his king.“Mikey?”

No response. Not a twitch.

The white-haired man seemed to barely even be breathing, lost to the breaking world in his mind. And there was no doubt about what caused this spiral. After all, it had been a mere three nights since you disappeared from his arms. Four days since Mikey had completely stopped eating or sleeping; and the few times Sanzu had caught the other nodding off for a few minutes before something wretched him back awake once more didn’t count. Short stubble dotting his chin, his mob of white, uncombed hair unkept atop his head, and still dressed in the same days-old clothes, it was as if he had ceased to function completely, and it was because of you that Sanzu’s king was rotting away, perishing before his eyes. A ruthless, cold man Mikey was as the head of the largest criminal syndicate in Japan, but twelve long years apart and for him to have only a taste of his darling you before some unknown force wretched you away from him again; it was as if the spark to keep slugging onwards had finally been extinguished from the broken man, and the strongman facade was starting to crack.

Despite the pink-haired man’s continued disdain for you, he understood, but there was nothing more he could do. Every available resource at Bonten’s disposal had already been committed to combing every inch of Tokyo, and all they could do now was wait. Letting out a sigh, Sanzu closed the distance, taking the few steps that brought him elbow to elbow with the boss, with just a couple of inches between the two. “Mikey? You alright?” He tried again.

Silence once more blanketed the area as his words drifted off and died, the freezing air in the refrigerated warehouse thick and heavy and hard to breathe. Off in the distance, Rindo shivered from behind the seat of a forklift, the chill finally getting to the younger of the Haitani brothers, but the world still fell silent.

At least this time Mikey did react, though not to Sanzu, the Bonten boss simply turning away from his right hand man, slippers making nay a sound as he padded away towards the exit, body listing from side to side with every step. “Ah, is it?” The ragged whisper that fell from Mikey’s lips seemed to echo louder than the earlier gunshot, unsteady steps threatening to give way under the man’s frail frame as he muttered to himself. “It was me? I see.”

All Sanzu could do was watch and grimace, hand moving to grip the bottom of his striped vest, knuckles turning white from his tight, frustrated clench. Mikey wasn’t speaking to any of the executives present, no, but to you: the whispering, taunting version of you that lived rent-free in Mikey’s hallucinations and delusions. Like a ghost that refused to depart, your shade haunting the white-haired man’s every move despite your absence, staying just beyond his grasp yet so mockingly close - who knew what kind of vicious words you were tormenting him with?

Even as he still questioned what had led to his intense dislike of you in the first place, he knew that the real you would never do such a thing, especially considering the tenderness with which he had previously witnessed you holding Mikey’s bony hand with. Definitely not to Mikey, but that was a matter for a different time. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the second-in-command tuned out those nagging voices, letting out a sigh that instantly fogged up into a cloud of white fog as he turned his attention back on the unstable man in front of him. Truly, having to live with this amount of clarity at all times was painful.

ㅤ

One step wrongly placed, and time felt as if it came to a crawl as Mikey’s slipper failed to get a grasp on the thin layer of ice that coated the cement tiles, the already lethargic man looked as if he would be meeting the ground under his own weakened legs, white hair streaming out behind the Bonten boss as he descended.

Sanzu moved. “Wait Mikey, you’re-” Calloused hands shot out in an attempt to catch his falling king, though it seemed too little too late, that signature black shirt brushing past the tips of his fingers.

But in that instant, the former up-and-coming delinquent was quicker, a speed reminiscent of his glory days as Toman’s President as he caught himself with little difficulty. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” the guttural growl reverberated across the tin-roofed building, and in one smooth move, the black pistol whipped around to lined straight up with the centre of Sanzu’s forehead, the black, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of Mikey’s eyes scrunching up as his gaze narrowed dangerously.

The world held its breath as green eyes met abyss ones.

A second ticked by.

A bead of sweat gathered along Sanzu’s pink hairline despite the freezing temperature, trickling down the side of his face. Was this it?

Another second.

Perhaps it was a mere moment of recognition that glimmered behind those exhausted eyes to which clung black, heavy eyebags, perhaps it was your specter taking pity on him, saving him from what was an unenviable fate. Whatever it had been, the heaved sigh of relief that slipped out from Sanzu’s scarred lips started his world spinning once more as the barrel of the gun was lowered, the other’s bony arm shaking from the effort of holding up the pistol. He hadn’t been sure if Mikey would squeeze the trigger, and even though he wouldn’t have been too angry to die by his liege’s hands, it was far from the right time to leave the other to those spiralling thoughts. He did, after all, swear an oath to keep the former Toman President safe; he had for all this time and he will continue to do so, even if it meant keeping Mikey safe from himself.

The palpable stillness persisted as seven pairs of various colored eyes watched Mikey turn once more to leave, soundless steps reverberating through the tense air as his abnormally delicate figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared behind the half-open warehouse door, long tendrils of cold fog lazily trailing out after him.

Running one hand through his mob of pink hair, Sanzu took a glance around at the rest of the executives present as a silent grumble slipped his lips; it was rare to see anything but amusement on the faces of these usually desensitized criminals, and even rarer for everyone present to be of the same thought. And if it had been anything but this conundrum, the pink-haired second in command wouldn’t have wasted any time in giving it to them for showing such useless emotions. But with the quickly deteriorating state of their boss as the hours and days go by and no sign of your return or your presence anywhere, there was little they could do but watch with concern as Mikey wasted away.

Despite the already ongoing search looking non-stop for you, all day and all night, a tightening knot at the base of his gut combined with a nagging feeling told Sanzu that they were unlikely to find you anywhere, his mind instantly leaping back to the pounding headache and the change in his memory back when he awoke in the infirmary four days ago. Why did he stop hating you with every fiber of his being previously? How did you do that? No matter what the others said, there was definitely something off about his sudden change of heart with regards to you, Sanzu knew without doubt, and he would get to the bottom of this.

For now, what he needed to figure out was what combination of begging and groveling would be enough to get Mikey to at least accept some water.

ㅤ

Yet just three hours later, Mikey’s situation had already taken a turn for the worse. Four days without food, let alone sleep, would do anyone in, and even the once undefeated Toman President was no exception. Now standing alone, consumed by the darkness of the last untrodden area in Bonten headquarters, Sanzu knew he was breaking every rule worth remembering, doing something so explicitly forbidden by his king. But as he rummaged through mostly empty cupboards and amidst the little belongings owned by the infinitely wealthy yakuza boss in a bid to find something, anything that could help, the black hole of spiraling thoughts that encompassed the events of the past thirty minutes overriding any awareness he had the items passing through his hands.

After all, it had been him who had come across Mikey, his near-skeletal figure sprawled unconscious across plush carpets halfway down Executive Row, just meters away from the worn white door of his bedroom. It had been him who had scooped the man into his arms and rushed him down to the infirmary, grimly noting how the man weighed barely anything. And it had also been him, on his knees and his forehead to the ground, pleading with a conscious Mikey to allow the doctor to administer a fluid IV, only for the other to reject his fervent imploring with a simple turn of his head, those exhausted abyss eyes breaking from his teary green ones wordlessly to stare blankly at the ceiling. Because no words needed to be said for Sanzu to know what the boss demanded: he would accept nothing less than your return and your cooking.

Despite the white-haired man not being present, allowing the light from the hallway outside to pour into the usually unilluminated room - the gloom and morbidness just as Mikey likes it - felt too much like the discretion of such a sacred space to the ever-loyal Sanzu, though this did leave him to conduct his hunt with just the sliver of light that sipped in from under the door. The cold sweat that gathered and pooled on his palms was hastily wiped away on striped pants as the usually high second-in-command attempted to focus back on his searching, green eyes scanning around in a desperate attempt to find something that could help, a clue that could point to where you were, anything.

This was all your fault. Was there nothing he could do but let fate play out?

It was only as Sanzu threw up his arms in exasperation did a glimmer from the furthest end of the room catch the corner of his eye; the small amount of light that reflected back seemed to sparkle even in the dark. The faintest shimmer of gold. What was that? A cautious few steps revealed the source to be a school bag - your school bag, judging from the neatly written name on the tag - that you had failed to take with you for whatever reason. And more importantly, hanging from the front of the bag from a zipper was that notorious purple-and-gold onomori that had him recoil his hand as if burnt.

No doubt it was the same one that still haunted his every step, one that marked you as off-limits all those years ago on the threat of torture and death. Yet -

The Bonten man reached out, gripping the onomori with one fist. He vaguely remembered something from many years ago, maybe twelve or more, when you first disappeared, when you first gave him that bag of karaage. He had been the one to find your charm, and if his scrambled memory hasn’t failed him, the simple of act of picking up this charm had summoned you out of thin air. Though after holding it for a rough five minutes, Sanzu sighed, undoing the simple note that kept the charm tied to your bag before standing. He probably just dreamt that particular one up during one of his highs.

Still, the man noted as he wrapped the small item ever so carefully in a clean handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket, it was probably precious to Mikey. Something to lift his spirits a bit maybe, if it did nothing else - anything that would keep his king going until you could be located.

And pressing it into said man’s weak hand later, and watching the charm disappear under sterile white blankets as Mikey retracted his thin arm, it was all too clear to Sanzu that the other was running out of time. If they don't find you soon, Mikey dies.

Turning to leave his boss to his thoughts, the right-hand man decided that he didn’t quite enjoy all the stress. He could use a smoke about now.

ㅤ

The sight of the empty lot where your school building formerly sat brought that familiar gut-sinking feeling back to your abdomen, one that you didn’t think you would be feeling again. Running one hand through your hair, you let a sigh escape your lips. You were back in the future again, it seems. Whether this was the same future or a different one, or even if you had skipped ahead the same number of years was something that was beyond you at the moment, and you had even less on you this time then the previous incident, having been caught in your literal pajamas right as you were about to head to bed. Which came with a secondary problem, one that you found by simply looking up - it was still the middle of night.

The neighborhood where your school once was was silent as it always was at this time of day, with most students and adults alike usually asleep by this time of day. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you noted that the battery was dead once more: was it just a side effect of the time leaping?

Patting down the rest of your pajamas only confirmed that you had none of your house keys on you unlike your previous experience, which only meant that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Though heading back home wouldn’t be a bad idea if this was still the same timeline, and your feet started to carry you down familiar paths once more. Yes, you were sure at least someone would know you were back if you waited by the front door.

ㅤ

Takemichi let out an exasperated grunt, ruffling his hands through his hair. He had been back and forth from the future twice in the last four days alone, plus that disaster meeting with Draken, and nothing. No clues, no progress, nothing. You were still nowhere to be found. Kicking a stone down empty roads, the former Toman delinquent felt truly helpless for the first time. If his time leaping ability was being overridden by yours, then there was no point to what he was putting himself through - he couldn’t change the future until they could figure out how to stop yours.

And that meant…

The black-haired man shook his head vigorously in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going down that beckoning abyss. No, he couldn’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, Takemichi looked up, fists clenched determined by his side.

It was the middle of the night now, and the streets were completely empty of souls, with the exception of him wandering down aimlessly. In the distant, an occasional rumble of the engine of a passing vehicle, though none passed his way. But Naoto had mentioned that this area was where your school once stood, plus you lived not too far away as well, and therefore if you were really a time leaper, then there was a high chance this was the place you would return to. It made sense, Takemichi agreed, but this was already the umpteeth time he had searched.

Pulling one hand down his face, a flash of hair in the distance caught the man’s eye before it quickly disappeared behind a wall, too fast for him to even register. That looked like…you? Was that a hallucination?

A quick jog forward took Takemichi to the bend in the street, but when he looked round the corner, whatever trace of whoever it had been walking the roads was already gone.

ㅤ

Across the bustling city of Tokyo, Rindo froze mid-step.

Yet the sudden lack of movement was lost on Ran. The evening traffic had yet to let up outside, the rumbling of cars and the occasional horn cutting through the unnatural silence that hung inside the tiny shop tucked just a street away from the main road, though it was precisely the quietness that had carried with it the promise of an earlier rest. Careful to avoid dirtying his shoes with blood, the older Haitani had already made his way to the exit, suit jacket casually swung over one shoulder, gun tucked away safely and out of his side under his vest. “Let’s head straight back to base, Rindo,” Ran groaned, running one hand through his short purple hair only to grimace upon realizing that said hand was caked with someone else’s blood. Today was really not going his way. “You can grab a drink at the rooftop bar or something, I don’t know.”

Yanking the front door open with a grunt, said Bonten executive didn’t stop to hear if there was a response from his younger brother, instead opting to step straight out and back onto the narrow side alley, the buzzing streetlight overhead as if a welcome back from the grim of that filthy store and its dead, traitorous owner. Taking a breath of the comparatively better smelling air outside, Ran stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, pulling out a sole crumpled cigarette and a handful of change - but no lighter. Not even a match. Fuck this fucking disgusting job.

Ran turned, hand already outstretched. “Rindo, do you have a light -” And it was only then did it hit him that his brother had not followed him out. Rindo was still in the store for some goddamn reason, and he had to go back in there. The feared mafia officer sighed. This had better be important.

Alas, he spoke too soon.

“I think my memories just changed,” was seemingly all that Rindo could bring himself to mumble at the chime that came with the opening door, the man with the long purple hair still standing by the row of unpowered display refrigerators where Ran had last seen him, violet eyes staring down at the blood pooling around the cooling bodies sprawled on the floor. The stench of iron didn’t seem to bother the younger Haitani, too caught up in his jumbled mind as Rindo tried to make head or tail of what had just happened.

Ran, however, was far from impressed, simply propping both his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow at that statement. “Did you get into Sanzu’s drug stash?”

The sheer vileness of that statement alone was enough to shake Rindo out from his own little world, with said man snapping straight back into reality ready for a fight. “How dare you-” the younger of the two let out a cough, the sudden thick smell of death and blood that made itself known to his previously oblivious nostrils choking up his airway momentarily. “How dare you say that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say when you talk dumb shit?”

“It’s not dumb shit, fuck you Ran! My memories changed!” Rindo insisted, carelessly stepping over the bodies at his feet, Ran wincing at the blood splattering up and all over his brother’s shoes. That would be a pain to clean later.

But still, the older Haitani led the way back outside and into the fresher air of the alleyway, before turning around to better understand the situation his dear brother seemed to have found himself in. “Alright, if not pink pills, then what happened?”

Rindo himself still seemed to be struggling to make head or tail of what had just happened, letting out a groan as the man with the long purple hair rubbed his temple with one hand. “It was after we shot those two inside. All of a sudden, my head felt like it was about to explode for a second, and I suddenly knew…stuff. Things that I didn’t know before."

“Like what?”

“You know you were telling me about Mikey’s girl earlier?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve never met her, and before the job, I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was. I can pick her out from a line of schoolgirls now.”

“Oh.”

Violet eyes met each other, and as if on instinct, both men thought back to the Bonten infirmary just days earlier, where an eerily similar sentence had been muttered. Sanzu. Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So it wasn’t the drugs.” This day was just getting worse and worse. “Let’s head back and sync up.”

“Sure,’ Rindo shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he nonchalantly followed his older brother, the purple-haired duo stepping out onto the busy main street and blending into the crowd, blood splattered shoes a distant thought. “I do remember her being pretty nice though.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, as he absentmindedly fiddled with his earring. “Pretty nice or pretty and nice?”

The younger Haitani audibly tsked, raising one leg to kick at the other’s. “You know what I said.”

ㅤ

The lighter, joky mood that the brothers shared didn’t last past their return to Bonten HQ, much to Ran’s disappointment, the usually silent place abuzz with a rare, panic atmosphere. Men and women alike dressed in neatly pressed suits rushing every which way, the small bulge under their suit jacket where their guns were strapped to an unspoken reminder of where they were - no doubt the communicators fixed to their ears were all but alight with barked orders and updates. Casually grabbing a passing grunt, it took a mere moment and single shouted objection for the poor soul to realize who exactly had grabbed him by the back of his shirt, the purple and green striped suits too iconic to be mistaken. “Ah- oh, Haitani-sama.”

“What’s going on?” Ran didn’t need to see through those dark sunglasses to see the other’s shifty look: the nameless Bonten grunt was definitely contemplating the chance of him being dead within the next five minutes as opposed to the next hour.

”Uh-“

Rindo reached threateningly into the depths of his suit, and sweat began to pour off the other’s forehead. “You know,” the younger of the two Haitanis started. “I’ve had a really bad day.”

”No, please, Haitani-sama, I’m not sure-“

Fortunately for all three men involved, the interrogation was brought to quick and uneventful close with the appearance of an all-too familiar mob of pink hair just as Rindo pulled a lollipop out to pop into his mouth. The grunt was let go to scramble off as both sets of violet eyes snapped to the unusual sight of Sanzu impatiently tapping his foot soundlessly against the plush carpet of the foyer, smoking cigarette held between scarred lips as the man looked around before glancing once more at his watch.

A smirk instantly began to pull at Ran’s lips as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his pants, strolling over. “Oh Sanzu~”

“I’m busy,” came the other’s curt reply, green eyes looking Ran up and down a mere moment before turning away.

”We know, we know,” the man with the short purple hair pacified. “It’s just that-“

Rindo quickly butted in, having closely followed his older brother over. It was clear that Sanzu, far from his usual drugged up and easily bullied state, actually had things to do and places to be. “My memories changed.”

Sanzu’s unusually alert gaze slid over once more to meet Rindo’s, and it seemed the severity of what the younger Haitani said set in quickly as his eyes steeled. “Mine did too. Again,” the Bonten second-in-command disclosed, though he said no more as the glass doors of the foyer slid open and Kakucho stepped out, gloved hand lightly touching where his gun was strapped to his chest under his jacket. “We’ll talk about this later. House alarm tripped again.”

Ah, your little pick-up party, Ran noted from the side, watching the two top Bonten executives slip effortlessly into a black, featureless car that quickly pulled away from the compound. So you were back - and your arrival must have something to do with the changing memories.

How interesting.

ㅤ

Across town, Draken cursed out loud as his feet flew over concrete paths down empty streets. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were a fucking time leaper.

He had been working late on a client’s bike as he always did, the closed garage a quiet refuge after the hustle of the normal work day. The headache had hit him like a clap of thunder, with his brain feeling it was pressing up against his skull; and memories of twelve years past suddenly started to flood back, a recollection he couldn’t control. But they were all memories that he didn’t previously have, freshly added memories: some of your reappearance in his past, some of a fight he never recalled having with the other Toman founders, and most importantly, memories of you telling them what had happened.

It changed him, Draken admitted. It gave him a renewed hope that he didn’t remember possessing, that they might be able to fix this entire mess, that you were somewhere out there. All this time you were missing - it was true. You couldn’t control it like you had admitted. But if the past him still had that onomori, then why were you back in the future?

Turning a corner, a quick step aside was the only thing that kept him from running straight into someone else, though those fast, honed reflexes also almost had Draken swinging his fist into an all-too familiar face.

Baji was panting as if he had ran a full marathon, his apron half undone and left swinging from his neck, his hand clutching his open phone. It seemed like the other Toman founder had been struck with the same revelations, Draken determined, judging from the half-dressed state he was in.

And then those two fateful words tumbled from Baji’s lips. “Time leaper.”

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sag-dab-sar · 7 months ago

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Clarification: Generative AI does not equal all AI

💭 "Artificial Intelligence"

AI is machine learning, deep learning, natural language processing, and more that I'm not smart enough to know. It can be extremely useful in many different fields and technologies. One of my information & emergency management courses described the usage of AI as being a "human centaur". Part human part machine; meaning AI can assist in all the things we already do and supplement our work by doing what we can't.

💭 Examples of AI Benefits

AI can help advance things in all sorts of fields, here are some examples:

Emergency Healthcare & Disaster Risk X

Disaster Response X

Crisis Resilience Management X

Medical Imaging Technology X

Commercial Flying X

Air Traffic Control X

Railroad Transportation X

Ship Transportation X

Geology X

Water Conservation X

Can AI technology be used maliciously? Yeh. Thats a matter of developing ethics and working to teach people how to see red flags just like people see red flags in already existing technology.

AI isn't evil. Its not the insane sentient shit that wants to kill us in movies. And it is not synonymous with generative AI.

💭 Generative AI

Generative AI does use these technologies, but it uses them unethically. Its scraps data from all art, all writing, all videos, all games, all audio anything it's developers give it access to WITHOUT PERMISSION, which is basically free reign over the internet. Sometimes with certain restrictions, often generative AI engineers—who CAN choose to exclude things—may exclude extremist sites or explicit materials usually using black lists.

AI can create images of real individuals without permission, including revenge porn. Create music using someones voice without their permission and then sell that music. It can spread disinformation faster than it can be fact checked, and create false evidence that our court systems are not ready to handle.

AI bros eat it up without question: "it makes art more accessible" , "it'll make entertainment production cheaper" , "its the future, evolve!!!"

💭 AI is not similar to human thinking

When faced with the argument "a human didn't make it" the come back is "AI learns based on already existing information, which is exactly what humans do when producing art! We ALSO learn from others and see thousands of other artworks"

Lets make something clear: generative AI isn't making anything original. It is true that human beings process all the information we come across. We observe that information, learn from it, process it then ADD our own understanding of the world, our unique lived experiences. Through that information collection, understanding, and our own personalities we then create new original things.

💭 Generative AI doesn't create things: it mimics things

Take an analogy:

Consider an infant unable to talk but old enough to engage with their caregivers, some point in between 6-8 months old.

Mom: a bird flaps its wings to fly!!! *makes a flapping motion with arm and hands*

Infant: *giggles and makes a flapping motion with arms and hands*

The infant does not understand what a bird is, what wings are, or the concept of flight. But she still fully mimicked the flapping of the hands and arms because her mother did it first to show her. She doesn't cognitively understand what on earth any of it means, but she was still able to do it.

In the same way, generative AI is the infant that copies what humans have done— mimicry. Without understanding anything about the works it has stolen.

Its not original, it doesn't have a world view, it doesn't understand emotions that go into the different work it is stealing, it's creations have no meaning, it doesn't have any motivation to create things it only does so because it was told to.

Why read a book someone isn't even bothered to write?

Related videos I find worth a watch

ChatGPT's Huge Problem by Kyle Hill (we don't understand how AI works)

Criticism of Shadiversity's "AI Love Letter" by DeviantRahll

AI Is Ruining the Internet by Drew Gooden

AI vs The Law by Legal Eagle (AI & US Copyright)

AI Voices by Tyler Chou (Short, flash warning)

Dead Internet Theory by Kyle Hill

-Dyslexia, not audio proof read-

#ai #anti ai #generative ai #art #writing #ai writing #wrote 95% of this prior to brain stopping sky rocketing #chatgpt #machine learning #youtube #technology #artificial intelligence #people complain about us being #luddite #but nah i dont find mimicking to be real creations #ai isnt the problem #ai is going to develop period #its going to be used period #doesn't mean we need to normalize and accept generative ai

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mynameisjag · 5 months ago

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From a fic I never finished, Bruce and Damian enjoy a day out. That's it, just them having a good day.

It wasn’t often that Bruce went out into Gotham as well, just Bruce…not Batman or Brucie Wayne.

Just Bruce.

Changing into simple clothing, letting his hair air dry and just heading out like that and the public didn’t recognize him.

No slicked back hair or suits of any kind.

Just a t-shirt, his favorite throw over cardigan and what Dick insisted was mom jeans, a five o’clock shadow, and he was ready to go.

Just a quick trip to the shopping center to pick up some office supplies for his home office, a few groceries for Alfred, some snacks for the Batcave, and he probably needed to check the family chat to see if anyone needed anything while he was out.

A quick glance at his messages as he began to head out, already on his way to the garage, Dick was trying his best to convince him to get…strawberry flavored Batty-O’s with crackling and popping sprinkles…sounds horrible and right up his eldest alley…also full of terrible sugars…

Alfred would hunt both of them down if he brought this home.

He’ll just order it and have it shipped to Dick’s apartment…

Jason wanted him to fuck off…Bruce sent off a xoxo and a request to come over for tea in response to that. He got a thumbs up and a middle finger.

Tim…is either half asleep and texting or is trying to send out a code for everyone to decipher…both was possible…adding melatonin to the list…

Cass was sending happy faces, so it’s seems she’s good at the moment, sending her a heart, ballet shoes and a crown. His dancing princess.

Duke sent a thumbs up and got one back in return.

Steph was just saying she’ll just take what she needs from his place whenever…time to restock the “hidden” care packages then.

And Damian…Damian was staring him down from the passenger seat of the car…

“Damian…is there something you need that you couldn’t put in chat?”

“I am coming with you.”

“…you hate the public…”

“I will overcome my distaste of others and escort you, Father, you shall not face the scrutiny of the common by yourself.”

Aww, he just wanted to spend time together and Bruce could never refuse the baby of the family, “Of course, I appreciate your concern.”

His darling just puffed up with a smug smile, proud that he managed to get his way without any argument, “I’m glad you are agreeable.”

Look, they are communicating!

Not well, but it was a step forward!

Besides Damian even took the effort to dress more ‘civilian’, the green sweater with a little tiny bird stitched in with the words ‘just a bobbin like a robin’ was definitely a gift from Dick.

Adjusting the seat belt and getting the car out of the garage, Bruce just hummed happily, letting the silence settle between them comfortably. Mentally going back over his list, glancing over to see his son playing on an old handheld game. Something that was more then likely stolen out of Tim’s room, but with the older boy making his own place in the city, it would be awhile before it would be noticed it was gone.

Almost all his children had moved out…he was happy they were moving on in their lives, looking more into their futures but his heart hurt because his babies weren’t actually babies any more. They would have argued that none of them were ever babies with him but he would just ignore that.

He hoped this doesn’t result in empty nest syndrome…

“Baba, can we stop by the game store, I want to see if I can find more interesting games.”

“We can, after we get everything on the list, can you check my phone and see if anyone has sent in anything they want to be picked up-what in Lady Gotham is this?”

Bruce blinked as traffic was stopped to let a…small parade of Batman floats pass by…

“There are copycats out on the street, how dare they parade around as us!”

“…I think parade is the word, look at the banners…”

Batman Day!

“So they are not copycats…but worshippers…”

Bruce tried not to laugh at the thought, "I think the word is…enthusiastics…”

They both watched as a man walked past wearing a banner that said, “Priest of The Bat”.

“…and we will be investigating that later, let’s see if we can park and look around.”

“Time for some detective work, Father?”

“Undercover detective work.”

Damian was eagerly typing away on the phone, “I shall keep the others off our trail so they won’t interrupt our investigation, also according to the online advertisement, the parade will end in the park where the “Batman Day festival” will begin. They will have bat themed mooncakes at certain booths.”

“Are the mooncakes important to the investigation?”

“One must keep all possibilities open, we must check each booth for clues.”

Bruce kept the smile that was threatening to grow held down, he was sure the boy wouldn’t appreciate being cooed over his want of treats being disguised as being extra thorough, more so that he didn’t want his siblings interrupting their day. He was going to have to order everything online and have it shipped to the manor then, mundane chores could wait.

His baby wanted mooncakes.

He will get mooncakes.

It didn’t take too long to park and follow the short parade to the fairgrounds, even with them stopping and staring at the lookalikes, a man giving them a balloon with the bat symbol and the words ‘I believe in Gotham’s local cryptids’, and someone clipping tiny bat wings to the back of their shirts at some point.

Soon the entrance was in view and by that time, Damian was now on Bruce’s shoulders, taking in the crowd, head turning back and forth at the bright lights, the performers in bat themed outfits, wide eyed as a child runs in front of then in a Robin costumes.

Bruce is humming thoughtfully to himself as he eyes a group in clown makeup done up in a Gothic theme, so far all they seem to be doing is some parlor tricks for the crowd around them. Some people even taking selfies, it was a rare sight for a Gothamite to get close to a clown without violence.

He was wondering if he should text the others, surely by now they would be aware of this festival happening, Barbara had to have known…

“Darling, do you want to text your siblings?”

“I can tell them to be on alert for any suspicious behaviors while we blend into the crowd…like the one over by the dart game.”

Bruce could only blink as his head was forcefully turned toward a booth with a bunch of balloons tied to a backboard, “Dart game?”

“Yes, obviously it’s a skill test but what kind? We must investigate.”

Hmm, a skill test that totally didn’t have to do with the giant plush animals as prizes.

“I think I remember Dick saying how these games were rigged,” he watches as a parent carries off their crying kid, wincing in sympathy as the cries get louder.

“No amount of trickery could possibly stop us!”

#jag is in a mood #batman #dc universe #bruce wayne #damian wayne #i just wanted to write some fluff for them #fanfic

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dribs-and-drabbles · 10 months ago

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and @hughungrybear. Thanks for tagging me!

do you make your bed?

It depends... I live in the part of the world where it's usual to have a duvet in a duvet cover and a sheet covering the mattress, and I have a duvet twice the width of my bed so it usually doesn't get rucked up during the night, so when I get up I fold over the top third of the duvet to air out the mattress/sheet. If it's a work day, it will stay like this until I get home, then I will usually pull the duvet back over the bed. If it's a weekend, I might make the bed again midday. I like it when my bed looks made.

what's your favourite number?

I'm not sure why but I like the number 7, and then also the numbers 4 and 3 because they make up 7. I've never really considered numbers beyond single digits to be 'favourites'. But if I did it would be my birthday day. Oh and I don't really use favourite numbers as important passwords or pins or the such...jsyk.

what is your job?

The work I do is quite niche, so I never really want to say too much because I'm pretty discoverable online with a few key words...but then sometimes I really want y'all to know what I do because it's unusual (and, I think, quite cool!)...but without revealing too much I work in the arts sector - specifically dance.

if you could go back to school, would you?

School, as in aged 11-16? Absolutely the hell no. But school as in higher education, degrees, masters, or smaller qualifications for my general interests? Well, I sort of did a few years ago (*she looks at the calendar and realises it's more than 'a few'*). I did a Creative Writing Masters over 2019-2020, which was GREAT to do but sort of killed my spirit and drive to be a writer...but whatever, I can always pick it back up again in the future if it returns. I also went to classes to learn Swedish when I lived in Sweden and I'm going to a different language class now one evening a week. I enjoy studying...but I get too focused on getting good grades.

can you parallel park?

Yes but I only do it when the space is big enough for me to confidently do it (especially with all these sensors beeping nowadays) and usually only on the side of the road opposite to the steering wheel (I can drive on both sides of the road).

a job you had that would surprise people?

I think my whole career is probably surprising to people but in the sense that I think people are mostly confused because they don't really understand what I really do on a day to day basis.

do you think aliens are real?

I think it would be incredible if in this whole universe we are the only planet who has developed 'life'. Aliens don't necessarily have to be intelligent life like us (and that's debatable sometimes!), so yes, I think somewhere in this universe there is another planet which has the conditions for some form of life, whether we could survive there or not.

can you drive a manual car?

Yes, I learnt on one and have managed to adapt to both right-hand and left-hand gear sticks, although I'm still a little 'fumbly' with the right-hand gear stick. I prefer automatics when in a traffic jam but otherwise I'm happy to drive whichever. Sometimes it's good to have something to focus on when driving, so a manual is good. The problem happens if I've used different hire cars in a short period of time (which I need to do sometimes with work) and when I forget I'm in a manual and brake coming up to to a junction and just...stall because I forget to change down gears 😂

what's your guilty pleasure?

If a guilty pleasure is something I'd feel shy or embarrassed admitting or talking to others about...then it would probably be watching ql or reading fanfic 😂 Other than that I'm not sure I have anything...I enjoy what I enjoy and don't feel guilt over it.

tattoos?

No but I've always thought about getting one but I think the thought of the work I'd have to do to find someone I would really trust to permanently mark my skin means I've just never done it. But I would like some kind of minimalist abstract colour art that starts on my shoulder and trails down my arm. Maybe. I've never been able to find exactly what I'm imagining, which is also why I've never pursued it.

favorite color?

I think I'm in my blue stage in my life, looking at the majority of colours surrounding me, but I also like pops of red.

favorite type of music?

The music playlists I listen to most are 1) OSTs and similar style songs from all the qls I've watched over the past 3 years 2) the instrumental background music from all the qls I've watched and 3) Swedish pop (to keep the language fresh in my brain). I do like all kinds of music - just NOT drum and bass - anything can work for me in the right mood.

do you like puzzles?

Yes, although I don't often do them. I enjoy the 'escape room' type Exit games as well as sudoku, and for a few months several years ago I really got into hanjie puzzles.

any phobias?

I'm not sure if this is a phobia or not but I absolutely CANNOT deal with cotton wool. Just thinking about pulling it apart makes me want to crawl out of my skin and lay down in a bath of acid just to get away from it let alone actually TOUCHING it and pulling it apart 🤢🤮 The cotton wool pads are ok because they have smooth sides and I don't...pull 🤮 them 🤮 apart 🤮. Ok, I gotta stop talking about this now, I'm squirming in my seat.

favorite childhood sport?

I did gymnastics as a child, from about aged 8 to 13, but I don't know if that counts as a 'sport', although I did compete. I didn't really enjoy most ball sports as a kid.

do you talk to yourself?

ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME. I talk to myself in my head. I talk to myself out loud. Sometimes, if I'm talking to myself aloud about something important and then do something that means I can't continue (cleaning my teeth, drinking/eating etc) then for some reason I can't continue in my head. I have to wait until I'm finished to then talk out loud again. But I also talk to myself aloud when I'm out 😬 but I do it quietly and without moving my mouth too much so people don't notice. I was in a shop recently and a gentleman was talking to himself out loud (commenting on the offering of tea towels ikea had and wondering whether to buy any) - loud enough that I thought that he was actually talking to someone else but he wasn't - and I felt like I had a glimpse of my future if I wasn't careful 😂

what movies do you adore?

I don't watch a lot of movies nowadays - the last I saw was Barbie. But the one that has stayed with me as a favourite since I first saw it is Some Kind of Wonderful. And I love The Holiday as a Christmas movie (although I haven't watched it for ages). Oh and it's not a movie, so maybe doesn't count, but the BBC's adaptation of Pride and Prejudice has my whole heart.

coffee or tea?

I'm definitely a tea drinker (approx 3 cups of black Earl Grey plus one or two herbal teas every day) but sometimes I'll crave a coffee...but then I'll have decaf. I'll crave it because I think the milkiness of it (oat milk though) makes it feel like a comfort drink, and I like a small shot of gingerbread syrup in it too.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

I remember things like 'lawyer', 'journalist', and 'doctor' were common aspirations when I was a kid which I also contemplated but when I decided I wanted to be a dancer at aged 13 that was it for me. My 'back-up' career plan was some kind of palaeontology or archaeology ("you get an -ology you're a scientist!" 😂) but I never needed to pursue that.

Onward tagging: I'm not sure by now who has done this or not, so I'll tag some people and if you have done it then tag me in your post so I can read it! @grapejuicegay @dimplesandfierceeyes @casualavocados @ranchthoughts @jourquet @lollygirlpops @airenyah @incandescentflower and @linosaur

Like @telomeke, I also get tagged now and then by others in various tag games but then get too busy with work to be able to do them. So if you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just didn't have the time and then probably forgot.

#get to know me tag #that tag game

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noobforever · 6 months ago

Text

The Womanizer and The Maneater Pt. 1

Dallas “Dally” Winston X Reader

Description: What happens when Dallas Winston, a boy known throughout Tulsa for running through women like hurdles, notices a new girl in town with spunk, charm, and crazy good looks running through boys like traffic cones and leaving them wanting more?

Authors notes: The songs that inspired me to write this are at the end! Give them a listen if you haven’t heard them already, they’re mad good.

I’m looking for any requests with The Outsiders, Back To The Future, The Karate Kid, Up The Academy, and Cobra Kai.

P. S, I hope you all enjoy as English is not my first language so please tell if there are any grammatical mistakes.

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Whistles were heard through the air. The sound of black heels clicking against the rough pavement of Tulsa echoed, leaving men turning their heads and one car even slowing down to simply get a glimpse of this supposed girl.

Quite the beaut to see, a blossoming belladonna knowing her effects on passersby, yet seemingly acting nonchalantly at the occurrence as if it’s a normal act for her to be catching eyes like a lone flower in a garden. Because it is.

She’s a youthful, charming lady by the name of Y/N. A suave girl able to attract men from anywhere, but also a maneater of sorts.

To be frank a maneater of many sorts. She was well aware of her effects on boys from an early age, and well, she decided to play into it.

At first she didn’t do it for fun, she genuinely wanted a nice, long relationship. However, she figured out that after a little bit, no matter the person, the gifts, the looks, nor money, she always found herself bored.

In other words she could never find one man enough to satisfy her constant changing tastes. So she started viewing it as a game of sorts.

“It” as in “love”

She went through boys like traffic cones, seeing who lasted longer, who’d give her the best gifts, who had the best hair, who had the best voice, who this, that, this, that, this. Leaving them with broken hearts, yet still.. yearning for more of her.

In her defense, she couldn’t help it, she just lost interest after a bit of time, and who was anyone to judge her? In her opinion it was a good thing she didn’t lead them on thinking that she still wanted them.

Y/N had two rules to herself

Those were to never. ever. Date the same boy twice

And to never. ever. Date a boy whilst having eyes for another.

And Y/N never broke them.

———————————————————————————

Luscious h/c hair flowing in the wind, she moves a hand softly to place a strand out of her face, behind her ear, whilst the other clutches a small handbag. A lovely fitted dress capturing all of her curves perfectly as she walked.

She seems to catch all eyes, nothing less being expected from her, however, one pair belonging to a certain grease decides to take the extra step as to follow her, this man being none other than Dallas Winston himself.

A young man that some would classify as a “womanizer” He flirted with random chicks, slept with them, lead them on, toyed with them, and so much more. However to him, he just didn’t care. Dally did what he wanted, when he wanted, didn’t care about the repercussions, and that applied to everything, including girls.

He took one last drag from his cigarette, observing the girl moving past him, before tossing the cancer stick on the ground and putting it out with his boot in a firm, yet swift movement. Dally started walking and began to speed up his pace gradually.

He eventually managed to get up close enough behind her to the point where he was sure that she could hear him. So of course he did as expected of any degenerate such as himself with his eyes on a girl like that, and whistled at her.

However, to his dismay she continued walking by as if nothing happened. “Hey!” He walked faster, catching up to her side.

Finally managing to grab her attention enough for her to glance at him he began speaking. “Hey pretty girl I know that you heard me.” His thick, New York accent coming out . “C’mon- Don’t you know it ain’t exactly nice to ignore somebody huh?” Dally huffs.

“Yeah, I heard you all right, as well as all the other guys doing the same thing.” She scoffs. “I mean-Don’t you know that it’s not exactly nice to catcall somebody?” Y/N continues walking, with her head tilted up slightly in an attempt to dismiss him.

“Yeah yeah whatever man, but if it keeps getting girls like you talking to me, then what the hell!” He laughs after spouting his cheesy blabber, and remains alongside her.

“Ain’t you got somewhere to be?” She retorts.

He lets out a quick hum and responds sleazily “Nah, ‘m fresh out the cooler baby.. looking for a new broad myself.. and hey.. you look pretty new to me, you got a name sweetheart?” He removes his hands out of the pockets of his black leather jacket.

Clutching her bag a little tighter, she takes in the appearance of him, with ragged yet fitting dark hair, chiseled cheekbones, and fair skin, she replies after a quick thought, “Well that’s because I am new here, hun. And why exactly should I give you my name hm?.”

“Because I asked nicely, and I’m never nice.” He responds truthfully.

“Well.. if that sounds like a good reason to you,” She rolls her eyes. “I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.” Y/N turns her head slightly and gives him a quick nod, taking in his appearance once more, then moving her head back forward.

“Dallas, Dallas Winston. Call me Dally. I’m sure you might’ve heard of me already, and if you haven’t then you’ll be in for a real treat..” He says pridefully.

Playfully she responds, “Call you Dally?” “Well if you keep following me around like some little lost puppy I might just have to call animal control on ya.” She giggles softly, hoping he takes the joke light heartedly.

“Funny girl huh? I like that..”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah..”

She makes a sudden turn to the left, bumping into him and losing her balance, just for him to pull her in by the waist and holding a firm grip on her arm to hold her right back up. “Easy there Y/N, fall one more time and you might just end up falling for me.” He teases. “Although, I don’t think I’d mind that at all.” Dally lets go of Y/N once he knows that she’s stable.

“Thank you but, haha, you’re very funny- no not really. But whatever helps you sleep at night, Dals.” She jokes once more, a little bluntly near the end before continuing towards the music store, without making any effort to try and say goodbye.

She reels him in, -leaving him there, and leaving him wanting more. She’s done it before to others, and already knows that she’s doin it again to him.

Nonetheless he does what any boy such as himself would do, and he follows right on her trail. He takes a step and opens the door for her right before she walks in.

They both smile.

But for different reasons.

Feeling satisfied, thinking that he’s gonna some fun with her for a bit, see what she’s all about, he smiles.

Delighted, thinking that she has another guy to test and trial for a bit, ‘n see what he’s all about, she smiles.

“Quite the doll aren’t you?”

“Don’t mention it sweetheart.”

The bells connected to the door ring, alarming the man at the front desk. “Evening!”

“Evening!” Y/N waves in response kindly.

They were going to have fun.

T.B.C (if y’all want ofc)

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astrids2th · 9 months ago

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Always moving. Pt 1

Mae x Fem! Dancer Reader

summary: In a near-future Miami practically entirely submerged in water, Mae finds herself performing at a low end club, singing to the drunken guests. But here, before her performance, she catches a glimpse of a dancer in the midst of the warm, smoke filled club, and she finds herself spiraling into a dangerous love story with you. A dancer bound to the club by a miserable contract. but what will she do when her secrets catch up to her?

Warnings: None really, no smut yet, but there will be in part two! so stick around if that's what you want lol. also !men DNI! (always.)

A/N: Sorry for my bad English, it isn't my first language. Please tell me if there's any spelling mistakes, and please interact so I know if I should continue this fic! <33

word count: 3k (I'm doing word count now slay.)

☆═━┈┈━═☆

As the pulsating beat throbbed through the air, the club was alive with energy. Bodies moved in rhythm, a symphony of motion amid the haze of warm lights and swirling cigarette smoke, forcing you to squint as you tried to navigate through the claustrophobic mob of people who had all collected in the small club. Shoulders and hips struck against you, pulling a string of curses from you, and turning a couple heads who shot glares your way in annoyance at the interruption. But you didn’t care, you just needed to get to the dressing room as fast as possible. You were already late five or ten minutes, and forcing your way through the crowd, pulling, and pushing, you could practically hear the doomsday clock ticking in your head. Oh, you were going to get shit for this.

“Y/N, where the fuck have you been.” A hand grabbed your wrist, and you were hauled into the changing room as if you were on a fishing line, getting pulled out of the sea of people and into, well, not safety. Just another danger, you supposed. “Got held up on the way. Traffic,” You made up the excuse, covering for the fact that really you had just enjoyed a rather long nap and allowed yourself to sleep in a couple too many minutes. Your fellow dancer who was still holding your wrist firmly, raised an eyebrow at you, “traffic? At this hour?” She questioned you, clearly not buying the story and staring you down like a hawk. “Yeah… Traffic… people gotta get places, you know,” you continued to talk yourself back into a corner with a lie that you very well knew wasn’t getting you anywhere. The hawk sighed and rolled her eyes, letting go of your wrist and giving you a small, hopefully affectionate, shove in the direction of your changing station. “Just go get dressed, Y/N. Show starts in 20 minutes, if you’re not ready be then you might as well just leave.” You nodded vigorously and she turned away to leave. And as soon as she did, you snickered before making your way to the dressing station, swiftly slipping off your clothes and grabbing for the skimpy outfit that had been laid out ready for you.

You were half dressed when the door was burst open, or well if you took into account the fact that the outfit you were going to wear basically was the same as being “half dressed” you were more likely 25% dressed when she launched into the room. A woman looking positively panicked and with her ponytail half undone, hanging down her back, stray strands of hair hanging loose around her face. And as soon as she saw you, she gasped and desperately tried to look away and cover her face in an attempt to try and shield your dignity, but honestly you didn’t quite mind. You were a dancer at a low-end club where it was commonly known that most guests who came here didn’t come to enjoy the artistry of a dancer’s talents as they performed on the stage, but more so their bodies as they moved around. These guests (mostly men) didn’t pay for talent but for a good show and for how much skin the dancer’s costumes allowed them to see. Managers knew that. And dancers knew that. So, they leaned into it. Everyone needed their bills paid, and these men were stupid enough to pay them for you if you slipped your bra down just a tiny bit more than necessary. So, as you stood there, one tit out proud and unashamed, the woman in the doorway looking away with flushed cheeks, you just quirked an eyebrow in slight confusion and slight amusement. “Can I help you?” You asked her after a short pause where you both hesitated.

“Eh, y-yeah, could you tell me where the singer’s dressing room is?...” She questioned in a clearly nervous voice while continuing to look away in embarrassment, the parts of her cheeks which were visible to you behind her hands were flushed pink, making you smirk a bit in amusement. “You’re singing tonight?” You asked her in slight surprise and making no move to try and cover up any more than what little you were already covered currently. You saw no reason to and to be frank you were finding a lot of fun in watching her flustered state as she attempted to not look at your indecency. She nodded swiftly and cleared her throat in an awkward manner? “Yeah, umm... My name is Mae, I’m singing tonight…” She answered the best she could, and you gave a small hum in acknowledgement. “That’s a nice change, the singers here are usually old men who found a guitar in their attic and decided to start a music career.” You mused and casually pulled up the strap of your costume to at least cover a bit more, but Mae still decided to keep her eyes trained on the doorframe as if it was the most interesting doorframe she’d ever seen, and she nodded a bit as you spoke, not saying anything. You took that as an initiative to talk again. “The greenroom is down the hall, there’s an overdramatic star on the door, should be easy to spot,” you informed her and took out your makeup to start applying it to your face. You could hear her clear her throat again and she finally looked away from the doorframe. “Thank you… ?” “Y/N,” you finished for her as you noticed her slight hesitance, her face searching yours as she was trying to remember the name you never provided her with. She gave an attempt at a smile and nodded, and you felt a sudden feeling of… something… rising in your chest, though you couldn’t quite identify the emotion. But it felt nice. She was nice. “Thank you, Y/N.” her voice was nice too… But the moment was cut short as you once again hear the hawks voice screech for you, calling you to the stage, and drawing a groan for you.

“See you on the stage, Mae,” you call to her while picking up your shoes and stumbling by her, determined to not get fired for being late tonight. You needed this money a lot so while you were walking away you swiftly and inelegantly slip on the tall shoes, leaving Mae behind at the door to the dressing room, looking after you with what could almost be mistaken for a longing gaze. This was a busy club, and everyone was always moving, Mae would have to learn that.

☆═━┈┈━═☆

Every corner of the club was filled with electricity as you moved onto the stage, making an effort not to squint in the light of the overhead lamps which were pointing sharply down at you and the other dancers from above. None of you were left with much time before the music ripped through the crowd from large speakers. And you began, slim outfit hugging your body and trapping the heat in between the shimmering fabric and your warm skin. But you ignore the uncomfortable sensation and start moving forward, and then back. To one side, and then the other, every movement a testament to the hours of practice that you’d once put into learning this skill and art form, only for it to be left unappreciated by a crowd of hungry and drunken sharks.

With each leap and twirl you performed, you commanded the attention of those sharks, deliberately leaning forward at times, and forcing a coy smile which you had practiced in the mirror many a times before. And you pull the eyes of multiple onlookers, both on the floor, sitting at tables and in sofas scattered around the smoke-filled room, but also behind the curtain unbeknownst to you, curious eyes were following your movements with slight interest. Mae was covered as much as she could by the thick, red curtain while still allowing a small slit to peek out pointedly at not the group of dancers, but one specifically. The one who had so confidently conversed with her earlier, demanding her interest without even directly having to ask for it. Simply your way of being had piqued it.

Sweat glistened on your skin in the magnificent yet burning lights above the stage, but you seemed to not mind at all as your movements continued, and you held the eye contact confidently with a couple of the spectators who all smiled in amusement and satisfaction at the attention which Mae knew for a fact was not genuine but merely a show or a couple extra dollars. A good show, that was for sure. You knew exactly what you were doing, just not who was watching as well.

As the song drew to a close, the dancers collectively struck their final poses, their bodies taut with tension. And as if on cue, the crowd erupted into cheers and laughs, their applause a thunderous roar that echoed off the walls of the already loud club. With a sultry smile, you took a bow, basking in the adoration of your audience. Mae smiled amusedly at your display. You were not just a dancer — you were a star.

And then it was Mae’s turn on the stage. You had seen her as you exited from the stage, finally shielded from the crowd of sharks by the same curtains which had camouflaged Mae, but it seemed that she had hidden herself from you again, even as you had sought her out excitedly, also to cheer her on for her upcoming performance. But you were left confused but interested. And then you saw her walk onto the stage in the most gorgeous red dress that made you go quiet for a moment, the loud conversing of your fellow dancer slipping and fading into the background as you stepped a bit closer to the slit in the curtain, the same one that Mae had stood by just earlier. And you glanced out at her discreetly. And then her voice rung out throughout the crowd, leaving them silent. The earlier buzz of laughter and conversation fizzled out as their gaze and attention was naturally adverted to the beautiful woman on stage. You had only known this woman for maybe an hour or so, spoken with her once, and you were already feeling the butterflies waking up in your stomach. Something which you hadn’t experienced for years now. The sensation was strange and alien to you, and made you withdraw from the curtain in a slight movement. But you couldn’t draw your eyes away from Mae, even if you had wanted to, her presence was too striking to do so. So, you kept watching, listening, in awe at the woman who stood lone on stage with such confidence yet vulnerability, managing to silence the sharks and making it look effortless.

☆═━┈┈━═☆

“When you're awake the things you think- Come from the dream you dream- Thought has wings, and lots of things- Are seldom what they seem,”

“Sometimes you think you've lived before- All that you live today- Things you do come back to you- As though they knew the way,”

“Oh, the tricks your mind can play.”

☆═━┈┈━═☆

“You sang beautifully out there.” Your hand was on her shoulder, carefully as to not spook the skittish woman. She turned to you with slight surprise edged into her captivating features. There was a slight pause where she seemed to hesitate, as if thinking about something. Something important. Then she smiled, a genuine and soft smile, maybe slightly amused. It made you chuckle lightly. “Thank you, Y/N. You might be the first person to compliment my voice of all things.” The response made you smile as well, even in spite of the sad truth that it carried, knowing what she meant by the statement. The biggest part of both your salaries probably didn’t come from your talents or skills but rather… from the show you put on while performing. You made a move to slowly slip your hand off her shoulder and her warm skin, but she reached up and placed her hand over yours, subtly keeping it there and looking up at you from the stool she was sitting at, removing the makeup from her face with the mirror in front of her, shining a dramatic light at the both of you. “You danced brilliantly as well,” she complimented fondly, earning a small and gentle smirk to tug at your lips, the compliment causing your cheeks to tint a soft pink colour as well. The pink hue almost unnoticeable in the multi-coloured lights of the dressing room. So, you didn’t have to worry about her noticing the flushed state she had put you in, at least. “You might be the first person to compliment my dancing abilities as well,” you mused in reply and the smirk pulled into a teasing smile, pulling a light chuckle from the singer as well, and she squeezed your hand, making you pause at the gentle gesture.

You both found yourself stood in a pleasant silence, one of those rare ones where nobody has to say anything for a moment to feel special, comfortable. One of those silences that usually only appear between two people who are very special to each other. And maybe this ‘stranger’ had become special to you in those few hours you had spent together. But it couldn’t last forever. And her blue eyes drifted. They drifted away from your face and to the clock which hung behind you above the decorated entrance to the singers dressing room that you had slipped into to talk with her. And her expression seemed to drop in a realisation that you couldn’t quite understand. She looked almost… scared, and it made you frown and study her face, searching for an explanation. Why was she scared, what was she scared of, wh- “I have to go.” She shot up and out of her seat, making you almost stumble back with an expression that displayed the sheer confusion and bafflement you were feeling. And as she scrambled to scoop up all her things into her arms and stuff it into her bag, you scurried to try and help her out, but she only gently shoved you away with a look of slight remorse, an expression she tried to hide. “What, why, what’s wrong? Mae, what is happening,” You kept trying to approach her and maybe provide some comfort given how conflicted and even scared that she looked right now. “No, no, Y/N, nothing’s wrong, just- just stop it, have to go. Quickly.” She replied in a tone which was clearly an attempt at sounding harsh and decisive, but it just sounded desperate. And your shoulders slackened, a sigh passing by your lips while you watched her with a concerned expression. “Bye, Y/N… s- see you… sometime,” she stuttered out while rushing out the door, stuffing her last belongings down and into her back in her rush.

You just looked after her silently, brows furrowed in a consistent manner, body tensing with the sudden rush of worry you felt. What kind of Cinderella-esque shit was this?... “I-… See you too… I guess…” You murmured and looked at the spot which in which she had just stood scurrying and scrambling to get away either from or to something. It made you wonder… But you quickly shook your head and groaned in slight irritation, the sudden feeling of shame washing over you, as you wondered if it was something you had done something completely wrong, said or looked wrong. You dropped down in Mae’s former makeup chair. Mae had been hired in for this night and this night only, there was no contract, no nothing, so if she didn’t choose to come back to see you, she would likely never be returning to this hell hole in which you were bound and stuck by a stupid contract you signed in a moment of juvenility and naïvety where you had really thought your skills would get you somewhere, somewhere great with lots of money and fame. But no. you were here to please men with dance moves you had never even known in your young years of dance training. And as you sat there and buried your face in the palms of your hands, elbows placed firmly on the white surface of the table, causing red marks to appear on your skin from the rough treatment, you slowly turned your head to let out a sigh, but you were quickly halted as you caught sight of something. Something small and something shiny, buried in a heap of cheap makeup supplies. Your arms fell from holding your face and to instead laying on the table, and you reached over.

Pulling out the small artifact you noticed it to be an earring. An earring that you quickly noticed Mae to have worn during her beautiful performance which had captivated you so deeply, leading you to take note and remember practically everything about her. Including the pretty, little pieces of jewellery she wore, the green teardrop earrings. Bought cheaply to look expensive. Your expression furrowed in a moment of thought as you examined it. And your palm closed around the shiny object, and you held it almost protectively, not wanting to drop it as well. She would want this back. But she had left in such a messy hurry that she had dropped it in the panicked rushing.

But Mae was seemingly a busy woman, and she was always moving. Y/N would have to learn that.

#rebecca ferguson #rebecca ferguson x you #ilsa faust x reader #reader insert #reminiscence movie #mae reminiscence #wlw #fic #fanfiction #lesbian #oneshot #why is reminiscence so hard to spell

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timotey · 1 year ago

Text

Ficlet: (Not Just) For His Benefit

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Future fic, h/c. Unbeta'd.

That day, you see, Tharn almost died on the job, right in front of Phaya’s eyes.

(Yet another excuse for smut. What can I say, I'm a simple gal. Please, excuse all possible mistakes, my allergies are draining me of energy.)

***

Phaya insists on taking Tharn home. To his house. To his bed.

And Tharn says, gently and soothingly, “Okay. Alright, Phaya, whatever you want.” He gives in, he goes because he’s afraid that Phaya might fall apart otherwise.

That day, you see, Tharn almost died on the job, right in front of Phaya’s eyes, and it rattled Phaya to his core.

They were chasing after a suspect, running down a busy walkway, and Tharn was close at the man’s heels, Phaya having split to cut the guy off, when the man suddenly and unexpectedly whipped around - and pushed Tharn right into the oncoming traffic.

Phaya, who in that very moment appeared at the mouth of a nearby alley, saw it all. And could do nothing but watch.

Tharn reacted quickly and managed to jump back but he wasn’t fast enough to clear the way fully. A car clipped him, throwing him up in the air and over the hood. Tharn hit the pavement hard but luckily his training took over and he bounced and rolled, absorbing the impact, his leather jacket saving him from bad scrapes. Still, it hurt!

There was a scream, loud and horrified - it was Phaya, Tharn realized later on - and the next two or three cars missed Tharn’s head by mere inches. And when he finally rolled to a halt, he just laid there, gasping through the pain. Because he ached all over and his ears were full of white noise.

When he was finally able to breathe in properly and open his eyes, Tharn saw Phaya kneeling by his side and leaning over him, looking pale and absolutely distraught. His hands were fluttering just above Tharn’s body, needing to touch but afraid to hurt Tharn even more.

“--arn? Tharn?” Phaya was yelling and slowly, his words seeped through the thumping hush in Tharn’s ears.

“‘M okay,” Tharn groaned, straining to sit up. He would've rather remained lying, at least for a little while, but that was not an option, not on the road and not with Phaya looking at him like that. “Help me up?” he asked, reaching out for Phaya.

Gently, as if Tharn was made of glass in danger of cracking, Phaya helped him stand, taking most of his weight when Tharn wobbled a little because his head did spin. And hurt. Something was in his left eye and when Tharn blinked and rubbed at it, his fingers came off bloody. Oh. He reached up to find where–

“Don’t,” Phaya grabbed his wandering hand. “Don’t touch it. You hit your head. Got a big scrape there.” His voice was hoarse and breaking a little at the end. And then he led Tharn away from the road and back onto the walkway where he helped him step over their culprit whom he, apparently, knocked out with a single punch. Well.

Most of what happened afterwards was rather blurry in Tharn’s mind. He got off lucky, with no broken bones, but his head thumped and he felt a little sick to his stomach - which he did not tell Phaya or he would’ve freaked out even more - and his left cheek and the left side of his forehead, actually the whole left half of his body, burned and ached.

And so he left others deal with… stuff, Phaya and Yai, who arrived shortly after. But mostly Yai because Phaya refused to leave Tharn's side after sitting him down on a nearby bench. Which was fine with Tharn because he really needed to lean against someone, against Phaya, when it finally sank in what just almost happened.

A trip to the hospital was a must and Tharn simply let himself be pushed and pulled and prodded and scanned and tested because any kind of a protest or objection would require way too much energy.

So. That happened.

Now he’s standing at Phaya’s car in the hospital parking lot - someone must’ve brought it here because he clearly remembers Phaya riding in the ambulance with him (and, really, was that necessary?) - and there’s a stark white patch on his forehead and another one high on his left cheek and Phaya has Tharn’s painkillers in his pocket and he’s insisting on taking Tharn home, to his house, to his bed and no arguments, Tharn!

And Tharn says, “Okay. Alright, Phaya, whatever you want.” He’s patting Phaya’s chest while he’s saying this, a soft tap-tap-tap right over his heart that he can feel galloping a mile a minute even several hours after the incident. He’s looking up at Phaya, into his eyes that are a little too wide and a little too wild and still slightly panicky.

Tharn realizes that he needs to do something or Phaya will crack. Phaya is the strongest and bravest person Tharn’s ever known but when it comes to Tharn, he's surprisingly, shockingly fragile.

So when they arrive home and Phaya helps Tharn out of his clothes - which is a slow and painful process in itself that has Tharn grinding his teeth and Phaya hissing in distress as more and more bruises all over Tharn’s body are revealed, dark red splotches that are already turning purple, hints of might-have-been had Tharn been a little less lucky that day - and Tharn is left standing there in nothing but his boxer shorts, he looks up at Phaya and asks softly, “Make love to me?”

Phaya's eyes widen and he draws in a sharp breath. “What? No! You’re injured.”

Tharn reaches up and strokes Phaya’s cheek, loving the way Phaya takes his hand in his and leans into the touch. “I’m alive,” he says gently.

He needs Phaya to know that, to truly grasp that. That Tharn is here, that he’s alive, that he didn’t die on him, that he isn’t going anywhere, that he isn’t leaving him. And words are not enough to convey all that. He needs Phaya to feel it, to feel him. It’s not about being horny or simply wanting to get off, it’s about reassuring Phaya that he’s still here.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Phaya croaks out, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against Tharn’s palm, fighting with himself but weakening. Because he needs this and Tharn knows it. He knows Phaya.

Tharn smiles. “You won’t.”

And Phaya gives in because he wants to. He wants to so bad.

He makes love to Tharn, as gently as he ever did, laying Tharn down on the bed, tenderly making him comfortable on his right side, the one least hurt, least bruised and aching, and he kisses him all over, every tiny scrape and every contusion, lavishly showering him with care, his lovemaking heartrendingly close to a worship.

Tharn’s loving it, being loved like this, with so much affection, and even though he initially planned this for Phaya's benefit, giving himself over to him like this, Phaya’s care and attention and pure love are now making Tharn feel… so much. He wants. Tharn just-he just… wants.

He wants so much - everything! - and so badly that he has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning out aloud - Phaya loves it, he knows, when Tharn loses himself in his need and lets Phaya hear his pleasure but Tharn’s still shy about it, about letting himself be heard, be known like that, even after all this time. And so he shuts his eyes tight and bites his lip and fists his hand into the bed sheet as heat courses through him, making him hard.

Phaya bends Tharn’s left leg a little and moves it forward, giving himself access, and then he takes his time preparing Tharn, sweetly torturing him, drawing out every stroke, every push, letting his fingers dance lightly over Tharn’s spot, again and again - until Tharn finally breaks and a soft moan escapes his lips.

It’s what Phaya has been waiting for.

When Phaya enters him, it always feels like their first time, like something new and wonderful, no matter how many times they do this. Tharn will never, ever get used to the feeling of being filled and possessed, of entrusting himself to his lover. Phaya moves in and in and in, slowly, carefully, giving Tharn time to adjust, and Tharn pulls at Phaya’s left arm, and draping it around himself, he entwines their fingers and presses their hands against his own heart, letting Phaya feel its frantic rhythm, sharing this moment with him as best as he can.

Phaya nips at his shoulder and his neck, peppering him with butterfly kisses, and he whispers into Tharn’s ear, “I love you so much.”

Their lovemaking is languid and slow, they barely move, just feeling and letting themselves be felt. The peak is not the goal here, the act itself is, the renewal of the connection between them. It’s hot and sweet and almost overwhelming, slow kisses and slow thrusts and slow strokes, the build-up of their climax gradual and unhurried.

When they reach their release, they arrive at it together, Phaya makes sure of it, stroking Tharn and tipping him over a moment before coming himself. It’s a quiet thing, almost reverent, and for a long, long while they just lie there, in each other’s arms, Tharn still feeling Phaya inside, their left hands entwined once more, Phaya caressing Tharn’s throat with his right, running his thumb across Tharn's jaw, and breathing raggedly into his hair.

“I thought I lost you there for a second today,” Phaya finally says when their hearts settle down again, Phaya's own beating slow and calm for the first time since the incident, since he was forced to watch Tharn get hurt, helpless to do anything about it.

And Tharn replies, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls Phaya’s right hand up and plants a soft kiss in his palm.

“Alright,” Phaya sighs, and drawing Tharn even close, he kisses his head and his ear and every part of him that he can reach. “Alright. I will hold you to that.”

Smiling sleepily, Tharn whispers, “Do.”

#the sign #the sign the series #my fics #my the sign fics #mé

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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On October 15th 1902 Edinburgh's Balmoral Hotel opened its doors for the first time.

Look out for my own connections to this grand old hotel, both in a personal sense and through my home town of Loanhead.

Back then it was called The North British and in Edinburgh a lot of people, myself included, still refer to it by the initials NB.

On Wednesday 15 October, 1902, on the front page of The Scotsman newspaper, a small advert appeared: “North British Station Hotel. This hotel in direct communication with Waverley Station is now open F.T. Burcher, hotel manager.”

According to the hotel’s official history, the North British was “a vanguard for the railway company which built it, a surrogate for the grand station they had never been permitted to erect in the sensitive site between Old and New Town.” The architecture, executed in golden sandstone, features towers and balconies galore. It’s a glorious mash-up of influences from across northern Europe. Expensive to build as well as to run – it gobbled upwards of 200 tons of coal every month – the hotel was seen as a “sign of the future heralded by the railways, the newly opened Forth Bridge and the electric lights switched on in Princes Street just seven years earlier”.

Nevertheless, some believed the Caledonian, which opened a year later, boasted the more advantageous location. And some detractors found the sheer size of the hotel gauche, complaining “it is coarse and obstructive at once”.

The hotel – working name “Waverley Station Hotel” – was the brainchild of George Wieland, a former NBR company secretary who retired to its board in 1890. Having toured some of the most lavish hotels in the world – where he realised the importance of having a banqueting hall to bring in business – he hired W Hamilton Beattie to draw up plans for Edinburgh. The hotel would have 300 bedrooms, 52 bathrooms, and 70 lavatories, and was designed to encourage the circulation of fresh air. Lifts shot people straight from the station into the hotel’s foyer, and beyond that, to rooms furnished with mahogany, leather and crimson moquette. It’s said that the bill for plants and flowers exceeded the bill for gas, and there was even a special machine to burnish the silver. Weiland made sure the new hotel’s cellars were full of the finest champagnes, hocks, ports, and whisky, the better to entice his ideal customers – wealthy, landed families moving between their multiple residences.

In 1922, the hotel became part of the London and North Eastern Railway Company and by all accounts the hotel sparkled from top to bottom, but after the Second World War, when the railways were nationalised, and Prestwick airport began getting transatlantic traffic, things began a slow downward trajectory. Even so, the hotel remained the destination for Edinburgh society events, be they corporate or personal. In 1983, British Rail sold off its rather faded North British Hotel. In 1988, it closed for refurbishment, it was in dire need of this, some of the rooms were looking a wee bit shabby, the wooden window frames unable to open fully, and how do I know this? Well I used to be the window cleaner in the hotel and the windows that didn't open meant I had to find one close by and edge along the crumbling sandstone ledges, the worst affected, and highest were on the south of the hotel and there was a six storey drop down to the train station below.

At the start of the 1990s, Balmoral International Hotels, an Edinburgh based company, bought the venue. In 1997, the Balmoral became the first hotel bought by Sir Rocco Forte as he assembled his portfolio of hotels. It currently boasts Scotland’s only Bollinger Bar, as well as the Michelin-starred Number One restaurant run by executive chef Jeff Bland, a spa, and ten function rooms accommodating up to 450 people.

Famous guests over the years have included Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Palin, Beyoncé and JK Rowling, who finished the last Harry Potter novel here, on 11 January, 2007, and then daubed her signature on a bust in her room.

A second wee link with the hotel, is Charles Forte, Grandfather of the present owner began his working life in my home town of Loanhead when he moved to Scotland from Italy.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #Hotel #Princes street

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straybabystay23 · 1 year ago

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In the Heat of the Moment

chapter 1 : Bathroom Floor

Pairing: Felix x OC >> Side Pairing: Minsung Rating: rated M for explicit smut (future parts) Summary: >> “She knew it was coming. All the signs had made her aware. But she always worked through the preheat, unable to partake in the luxury of calling off just whenever she wanted. She always knew when it was time and only took off the last couple days when it was at its worst.

But she’d forgotten her alarm.” << Word Count: Over 5.9k Warnings: a/b/o!verse, romance, slight angst, surprise heat cycle, uncontrollable urges, fluff, mentioned sexual content, mention of mates, secret crush, very mild violence, explicit sexual content in coming future scenes A/N: Hello there! This is my first omega verse work and first smut fic for skz. Please let me know if you like it! 😊 Enjoy~!

masterlist || next

[AO3]

Life is easy for Omegas who have money. Taking a week off for heat every couple months doesn’t mean anything for their bank accounts. But when you work hard for every penny you can get and still can barely pay the bills, heats are more than just an inconvenience.

“Shit I’m late!” She shrieked, jumping out of bed to rush around to get ready for work in record time. She continued shouting curses at herself for forgetting to set her alarm the previous night after her meticulous cleaning session.

She was running out the door, narrowly avoiding bumping into unsuspecting patrons as she wove through foot traffic. This job meant too much to her to be late. She was still new after all. And it was the best pay she’d ever landed! Not only was the pay good, she really enjoyed the company of all her coworkers.

She loves this job and she can’t lose it because she overslept.

When she turned the corner to the back entry door, she had to skid to a halt. She silently thanked the heavens that she didn’t slam directly into her boss.

“There you are! Hurry hurry, get inside!” Chan waved her through the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! My alarm didn’t go off,” she apologized, bowing at the waist completely out of breath with flushed red cheeks.

“Hey, life happens! Don’t worry about it! Just don’t let it become a habit and you’ll do just fine,” Chan assured her with a genuine smile. Her shoulders relaxed as she returned the gesture with a nod.

His eyes flicked across her face looking a little concerned then, his smile faltering. “You look like you’re gonna combust. Maybe you should go cool down before heading onto the floor,” he suggested.

Now that he mentioned it, she did feel hot. She figured it was because of the sprinting she’d done to get there. “Y-yeah, I’ll only be a minute,” she agreed, throat scratching from a dryness she’d almost forgotten about as she made a b-line for the bathroom.

As soon as she shut the door behind herself, she flipped on the cold water and stuck her face under to gulp as much fluid as she could with the awkward angle. An unceremonious moan echoing in the small space of the bathroom as her crippling thirst finally started to quench.

She stood upright, leaning heavily on the sink, now gasping in huge gulps of air.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, it hit her.

Another moan crept up her throat, more erotic this time, as her knees buckled beneath her. A familiar, unwelcomed fire combusting in her lower belly, filling her with desire. She barely managed to hold herself up on the porcelain sink.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, each breath coming out sharp and short. A mixed curse from realizing her heat was in full swing now and the growing need shooting directly between her thighs.

She knew it was coming. All the signs had made her aware. But she always worked through the preheat, unable to partake in the luxury of calling off just whenever she wanted. She always knew when it was time and only took off the last couple days when it was at its worst.

But she’d forgotten her alarm. She’d been too rushed to evaluate herself before she left. She thought she was hot because she ran. She thought she had more time.

Another wave twisted her insides and nearly sent her to the floor, groaning too loudly for being in her work’s bathroom. She allowed herself to sink to the ground, uncaring about how gross it should make her feel, and leaned back against the wall. Trying to just breathe through the wave of heat until it was over.

A sudden bang on the door made her quietly shriek. “Siya?” Felix’s voice filtered gruffly through the wood, she could hear how his tone had dropped an octave. Her lower muscles clench deliciously at the sound, her omega knowing his alpha wanted her scent. While her mind shoved the idea away.

“Siya, why are you here when you’re in heat?!” He questioned the quietest he could where she could still hear him.

“I-I didn’t mean to! I rushed this mo-orning!” She cursed the way she stuttered and moaned getting the words out.

“Fuck,” she heard him groan, accompanied by the sound of his nails softly dragging down the surface. Her omega side was thrilled by his responsiveness. “I’ll get Chan. We’ll figure something out.” He said.

She swallowed dryly at the idea of multiple alphas being in such close proximity of her scent. She had to fight the panic filling her chest while her lower half betrayed her. “Y-yeah, good idea. I’ll just, wait here,” she managed lamely. There was a long pause and she wondered for a second if he’d already gone, but then he spoke again.

“You’re gonna be ok, Siya. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He promised as if he could feel her anxiousness. She heard a soft thump against the door, picturing his forehead landing against the barrier. Her heart leapt into her throat at his words, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“Felix,” she choked, hoping he could hear her appreciation just from speaking his name.

“Just hold on,” his words coming out strained before she heard his retreat. She imagined her cry of his name didn’t help his struggle any. Adding one more thing to the list she can curse herself for, making things difficult (not to mention awkward) for her friends.

“Siya?! Siya, are you alright?!” Chan’s voice called worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” she confirmed, even though she was still panting. “I’m so sorry, Chan. I-I messed up big time. Please don’t fire me!” She pleaded. Her tears freeing themselves down her cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. “I love being in Stray Kids,” she wept.

“Hey, hey! Don’t cry, Little One! Why would I fire you for this? It’s not like you can help it!” He assured her, but having the opposite effect as it made her sob a little harder in relief. Another spike of arousal stole the air from her lungs though and made her choke for other reasons. “Shit,” Chan cursed through gritted teeth, “but we gotta get you outta here.”

She heard a growl on the other side of the door. Her body instantly reacted to the sound, moan leaving her throat at hearing the aggressive alpha just outside. “Relax, Felix. I meant get her home.” Chan snapped in tired annoyance.

“Sorry, hyung,” she barely heard the apology but she wasn’t focused on it.

Her chest was doing somersaults at the prospect. Felix was defending her from other alphas. He challenged an elder alpha just from suggesting opening that door.

“Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll keep you in there just until this wave subsides, then figure out how to get you home, yeah?” Their leader suggested. “Can you wait that long, Sweetie?” She nodded her head along in agreement as the logic made sense in her foggy mind.

“Y-yeah, I can do that,” she voiced a little shakily.

“Good, good. You’re doing great, Little One. Just hold out a little longer and you’ll be safe and comfy at home before you know it!” He told her encouragingly. She made a vague noise of acknowledgment as she focused on not moaning from the praise instead.

She hated how her body was reacting on its own. She couldn’t even control who she was attracted to when she was in heat. It made her sick to her stomach thinking about potentially cheating on her future partner. Until an omega is marked, you’re fair game to any unmated alphas and your body would react as such.

“Felix is gonna stand guard outside the door. Are you comfortable with him staying with you?” Chan asked.

“Yes,” she breathed without a second thought. She trusted Felix immensely, knowing he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He was a kind and caring soul like that. “B-but, I don’t wanna be a burden,” she added softly, the feeling of shame making her curl her knees up to her chest.

“You’re not being a burden to anyone, Siya. He wants to stay. Hell, I don’t think he’d move from this spot unless you told him to.” He chuckled, obviously teasing the younger boy beside him when she heard some light shuffling between the two.

“Thanks, Felix,” she whispered, knowing he was close enough he’d still hear her.

“Ok, I’m gonna go get a little work done. But I’ll just be in my office so if you need anything, just let Felix know, yeah?” Chan offered, earning a noise of agreement from her as she stifled a whimper. She could still hear them whispering behind the door but couldn’t make out what they were saying, too consumed in the crippling desire to be claimed to think of anything else.

The heat came in waves. The first wave being the most intense. It was as agonizing as always, and even more so since she wasn’t even in the comfort of her nest at home. But the one thing testing her resolve was the alpha so close yet so far away. Her body called to him, her scent flowing off her skin in sweet ripples of cherry blossoms, hoping he would help open the door and relieve the burning need she had between her legs. But her brain begged it to stop.

This was Felix sitting on the other side of the door. If he did something impulsive, he’d probably never forgive himself. Not that she would hold it against him. She’d much rather it be him than some egotistical alpha with a macho complex. At least she knew he’d do his best to be gentle with her, even under the influence of pheromones.

If she was being honest with herself, the thought of giving Felix her first time made her heart flutter with butterflies. She wasn’t completely stupid about her harbored feelings for the boy. Since the day she started working for Stray Kids Entertainment, he was the one she was drawn to. His kindness, his warmth, his passion. She saw these things in all the guys but with Felix it was…different.

“Ah~” she moaned, pressing her thighs together to ease the desire to feel him close to her.

A deep reverberating growl rattled the door close to the small gap at the bottom. Her heart leapt to her throat. Felix was sitting with his back against the door, the sound he was making an attempt to comfort her. It wasn’t an aggressive growl. It was just loud enough to be heard but deep in his chest, a low purr.

It drew her closer. She shakily crawled over to the door, slowly sitting with her back pressed to it. The vibrations soothing against her spine. It wrapped around her like a blanket and eased the solitude so she knew she wasn’t truly alone. She closed her eyes and basked in the relief, her muscles relaxing for that brief moment, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Whoa! Someone smells good back here!”

Her body instantly tensed at the loud exclamation, announcing to anyone within earshot of her current predicament. Felix’s growl flipped into the intimidating rumble she’d heard directed at Chan earlier.

“Keep your nose to yourself, hyung,” he barked back. She heard a humorous chuckle.

“Oh? And who’s gonna make me, Bbokie?” She could tell now that it was Minho and she could even hear the smile on his face as he provoked Felix into standing. Siya whined at the loss.

“Don’t think I can’t kick your ass if I wanted to, Lino,” Felix warned, taking an aggressive stance to prove his point. Minho raised a challenging brow with amusement in his eyes. But then another presence comes bouncing around the corner.

“Geez Lixie, it’s like you forgot that he’s already claimed,” that was Han’s voice, followed by a loud smooch. “Oo, but he’s right. Someone does smell delicious back here.”

“It’s Siya. She didn’t realize her heat was starting when she left home today.” Felix explained, sounding much calmer from the reminder that Minho had no instinctual interest in any heated omegas. He already had his own after all.

“Aww, the poor thing!” Han pouted, rushing past Felix towards the door. He didn’t stop him, an omega was no threat to another omega during heat.

“Do you need anything, SiSi? I can get you some water, an ice pack, anything you need! Just say the word!” He offered through the door.

“Those actually, sound really nice,” she agreed softly.

“Great! I’ll be right back!” Han chirped, running off towards the break room with Minho casually following with his hands shoved in his pockets.

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, collecting the sweat droplets and rubbing it on her jeans instead. She jumped when Felix’s voice suddenly drifted through the door, close to her level like he had crouched down to speak softly just to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted some water? I would have gladly gotten it for you,” he asked, she could hear the hurt in his voice and she felt an indescribable desperation to comfort him. She pressed her side against the door as close as she could get to him, hand reaching up to lay flat on the barrier between them.

“I didn’t want you to leave,” she whispered, immediately followed by a whimper of need. She could’ve sworn she heard him make a similar noise but her body took too much of her focus to distinguish if it was real or a figment of her imagination.

“I’m baaack~!” Sang Han as he bounced around the corner.

“Ok,” Felix let out as a breath, “Siya, I’m gonna have to walk away while Hannie comes in to see you.” She instantly whined at the prospect. He felt guilty leaving her, as soon as she’d just told him she didn’t want him to. But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t trust himself without the door separating them. “I won’t be far, Lovely.” He assured her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, tears pricking her eyes from the fear that he wouldn’t come back.

“Please,” she choked out. Felix having to fight every fiber of his being to not swing open the door and wrap her in his arms.

“What is it?” He asked, wanting to give her anything to make her feel better.

“Promise you’ll come back, Lix, please,” she begged just short of sobbing. He gritted his teeth, wetness welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“I promise.” His words leaving no room for doubt, a warmth filling her chest. She whispered an ‘ok’ as a small smile curled her lips. “Let Hannie help you, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

She heard his immediate retreat, imagining he couldn’t look back or he’d lose his resolve. She couldn’t dwell on it long as a soft knock rapped on the wood. “I’m gonna open the door now, SiSi,” warned Han.

He slowly pulled it open as she scooted back to give him room to enter. He slid inside and closed the door behind himself, crouching down and passing her the water bottle first. It only took two gulps and half the liquid was downed, Han chuckled quietly.

“Cozy in here, huh,” he teased, glancing around with a wrinkled nose at her current predicament.

“Shut up,” she scowled, reaching towards him for the ice pack. He swatted her hand away and scooted closed, sitting down next to her, tossing his arm over her shoulder and pressing the ice pack to her lower belly.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Baby,” his tone full of concern and worry, a feeling unfamiliar coming from her fellow omega. He was always joking and bubbly. She ducked her chin to avoid his eyes. “Are you gonna be ok? Do you want me to stay with you?” He offered but she shook her head. There was only one person she wanted to stay. But he had to leave.

The fog of her mind not allowing her to think clearly. Tears springing to her eyes once again, she missed him already. It had been 2 minutes and she missed him. She knew she was being ridiculous but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

She curled into Han’s side as she began to weep. “Oh, Baby,” Han cooed, pulling her closer into a hug. “You’re gonna be ok! We’re all here to keep you safe!”

“I-it’s not that,” she giggled wetly. “When will Felix be back?” She managed to ask.

Han stared at her with brows knitted of confusion for a long moment, the gears turning in his mind trying to piece together the cause of her tears. Until it clicked.

“Oh,” he murmured, eyes wide and sparkling with mirth. He gave her an extra squeeze before unfurling himself from around her to stand. She tilted her head seeing the sly smirk form on his face as he did so, puzzled by the expression. But then he turned back to her with softer eyes. “You two would be great for each other.”

Then he was gone, slipping out the door and leaving her alone again. She stared after him with wide eyes. Left with only her thoughts, feelings, and the dreaded heat pulsing through her lower half.

~*~

Minho was leaned up against the wall just outside the bathroom door, arms folded over his chest and glaring at anyone who passed by. Just because he didn’t have any interest in the heated girl holed up in the bathroom, didn’t mean he didn’t want to protect her. She was a part of his group now. And he was protective by nature, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

Not to mention his Sungie was in there with her. No pheromone induced alpha was getting anywhere near his mate.

His shoulders relaxed and his brow raised curiously when Han suddenly appeared sliding out of the bathroom and completely ignored him, a seriousness in his features as he marched straight for Channie’s office. Minho caught his wrist to stop him, drawing the smaller male into his arms with creased brows. The latter glaring up at him.

“Let go, I have to go talk to Chan,” Han demanded, not even a hint of his usual joking or softness on the edges of his words.

“Hold on for just a second Sungie,” Minho said calmly, brushing his bangs aside affectionately. Han huffed but didn’t fight his lover’s grasp. Minho smiled his favorite crooked smile when he knew Han wasn’t planning to pull a fast one as soon as he let him go, then took off himself to hunt down Felix.

It didn’t take long, he was startled when Minho came darting around the corner. “Hannie is out,” he simply said, immediately turning around to head back. Felix was stunned for a moment as worry gripped in his chest. He shook it off to follow close behind the older alpha.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. Minho had his eyes focused ahead, seemingly ignoring the question when he didn’t answer right away. Felix almost resigned to the idea before he replied.

“I don’t know. Hannie seems upset.” He said hesitantly. The uncertainty in Minho’s tone did nothing to ease Felix’s concern. If anything, it almost made it worse. And his pace quickened as a result.

When the bathroom was back in view, Felix instantly ran for it. On instinct to see that Siya was ok with his own eyes, his hand went for the doorknob. Han jumped forward and grabbed his arm, Felix reflexively growled under his breath.

He was grabbed by the collar and pulled backwards the next instant. Felix growled loudly this time, threateningly, but Minho stared him down with a look of promised death.

“Hey, hey! Everyone relax!” Han shouted to draw their attention away from each other, stepping between them and pressing a hand to Minho’s chest while the other was raised in Felix’s direction. Han gave the older boy a concerned look, Minho relaxed his shoulders to ease his worry but kept the unstable alpha in the corner of his vision.

Just in case.

Once he was confident his mate wasn’t going to attack, Han turned to the male behind him. “Calm down, Lix. You’re not in the right state of mind. Can you breathe for me?” Han asked, taking a cautious step forward. Even though Minho made a noise of protest.

Felix’s spine stiffened, his eyes going wide. He’d lost control? He looked between his two friends and realized how hazy his head still felt.

He nodded his head as he focused on the omega standing in front of him. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, Han’s scent filling his nostrils as he tried overpowering the sweet sweet scent of heat coming from behind the door. It worked well enough.

His muscles relaxed and he opened his eyes to see Han smiling at him, a contagious smile that Felix returned. Han lunged forward to give him a tight squeeze.

“Sorry Lixie! I didn’t mean to set you off!” He apologized, pulling back to look at him.

“It’s ok, Hannie. I’m sorry too.” He said, getting a huff of nonchalance from Han. “Sorry, Min-hyung,” Felix sheepishly apologized to the other alpha.

“No harm done, Bbokie,” Minho replied. Felix bowed his head respectfully in thanks before turning back to Han.

“Is she better? Did the water help?” He asked. Han nodded but his features had turned serious.

“Yeah, she’s ok. But I’m going to talk to Channie.” He said, turning on his heels to quirk a brow at Minho. “Can I go now?” The teasing sarcasm in his voice made his mate chuckle.

“Yeah, Felix is here to watch the door.” Minho agreed, shooting a pointed look at the other alpha in warning. Felix nodded in understanding, if he lost control again, he’d have to answer to him directly.

Han didn’t pay them any mind as he set on his original path to their leader’s office, barging in without even knocking. “Siya needs to be at home. Not on the bathroom floor.” Han snapped angrily, Minho strolling in to lean against the doorframe.

Chan spun around in his chair, surprised by the sudden intrusion. “I know?” He said in confusion before he continued. “But what else are we supposed to do? It’s not safe for her to be walking around the streets in that condition.” Chan scrubbed his face tiredly as he stood.

“Then don’t have her walk!” Han huffed, throwing his hands above his head in exasperation as if it were the obvious answer to their problem. The two alphas looked confusedly at him.

“I’ve never gone through heat myself, but if it’s anything like ruts, I know I’m in no shape to drive when I’m in that state.” Chan tried to reason, which made Han roll his eyes.

“Well no shit,” he retorted in annoyance.

“Hey, language,” Chan scolded lamely, pinching the bridge of his nose while Minho chuckled.

“I’m not suggesting she drive! I’m saying someone needs to take her home! She needs her bed! Her nest! Her place of comfort where she can ride out her heat! She’s miserable in there!” Han explained, desperately hoping to make them understand the severity of the situation.

Chan sighed, “I know. I know! But what are we supposed to do? The only one of us who wouldn’t be affected by her scent would be Lino but he’s got a group in half an hour. I can’t send him.” He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to think.

“Um? I can take her! Why is Lino the ‘only’ one who can?” Han challenged. Chan exchanged a concerned look with Minho, who took that as his cue to speak.

“Sungie, if an alpha gets affected by her heat, you would have no chance at stopping them,” he told him gently.

“Oh,” he murmured, face scrunched as he processed how little chance an omega had against a (basically) feral alpha. The room was quiet for that moment, the two alphas feeling for the omega. It was a harsh reality of the secondary genders and they hated it just as much as Han did.

Minho pushed off the wall and cradled his puffy cheeks in his palms to make him look into his eyes, a silent check-in between the two. Han smiled sadly up at him as confirmation that he was ok, grabbing one hand from his cheeks to keep their contact before turning to their leader again.

“Then what about Felix?” He continued to press. The idea didn’t seem immediately off putting to Chan as it was for Minho who snorted.

“Absolutely not.”

Chan gave them a surprise yet curious look. “What makes you say that? He had excellent control earlier,” he pointed out, wanting the two to explain Minho’s reaction.

“He had a lapse in control for like two seconds, Min. Don’t be dramatic.” Han brushed his lover off.

“‘Two seconds’ is all it takes.” Minho said brashly. Han frowned, pulling his hand out of his in offense from his tone and implication of his statement. The older instantly missing the skinship.

“But this is Felix with Siya we’re talking about here.” Han snapped with a glare. “You two can’t see that they’ve chosen each other already?” The question shocking both alphas.

“When? Felix hasn’t mentioned anything to me at all,” Chan managed, mind reeling to try and find what Han found so obvious.

Han brushed over the question as if he hadn’t even heard it as his temper was flared. “His aggression wasn’t pheromone induced, it was the threat of being separated from his chosen that triggered it. He was overly worried from being away and didn’t think twice about checking on her. It’s so obvious.” He huffed.

Minho took a slow step closer, testing the omega’s reaction. “What do you know that we don’t, Sungie.” The ranting must have allowed him to let off enough steam as Han stepped into his arms on his own, Minho nearly purred in pleasure at the needed contact.

“You don’t see it? The look in Lixie’s eyes? I saw it with Siya. I asked if she wanted me to stay with her and she just asked when Felix would be back.” He explained as he leaned into Minho’s chest, the other wrapping strong arms around his waist to lock him into place, resisting the urge to nuzzle his nose into his neck.

“But that’s just speculation,” Minho spoke logically, much softer now that he was back in his mate’s good graces.

“Their hearts have chosen. Don’t you remember what it felt like? It’s only a matter of time before their heads catch up.” Han said, looking up at him with starry eyes. Minho’s heart swelled in his chest at the memory.

“Even still,” Chan interjected, “it’s too much of a risk. The last thing we want is regret or resentment if they accidentally lose control.”

“But you admitted it yourself! Lix has had great control this whole time!” Chan raised a brow at him, a look that said ‘oh really?’ Han shrank into Minho’s arms. “Well mostly…”

Chan let out a deep sigh and Han sulked, cuddling into his mate’s chest seeking his comforts. Minho stared thoughtfully at his mate’s defeated face, a long silence drawn out in the small room.

“They won’t regret if something happens,” he finally said. Both of their heads snap in his direction. Han’s expression morphing from surprise to utter joy that Minho understood him while Chan’s turned to that of skepticism.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Minho managed to pull his eyes away from his lover to look at Chan with sharp, certain eyes. “Because I know what it feels like,” he said flatly. No room for argument.

Chan searched his face then the two of them when Minho turned his eyes back to his mate with a loving gaze. He’d seen them exchange these looks a million times by now but never had he realized the sincerity sparkling in both of their eyes, the undeniable solidity they share. It caused excitement to bloom in his chest. He suddenly couldn’t wait to fall in love with his forever mate someday.

He smiled fondly at the pair before sighing with his hands on his hips as a decision was made. Both turned expectantly to listen to his final verdict.

“It’s settled then. We’ll talk to Felix and make sure he’s up for it. If he is, then we get our girl home.” He said with determination blazing in his eyes.

He cared about his team, all of them. Siya may be their newest member but she was still one of them. She fit right in with the ‘Stray Kids’ from day one. And he would do anything to keep her safe and comfortable.

Han was bouncing on his feet while Minho was just happy to hold him in place. “Let’s go talk to Felix,” Chan said, motioning for Han to lead the way.

~*~

When Felix was pulled away again, she had to fight the urge to cry. All her body wanted was to be closer to him, even through the door was ok as long as she could smell him, hear him. But his sweet vanilla scent was replaced with spices. Telling her that Minho was standing guard once again.

“‘M sorry, Min-oppa,” she whimpered with wet eyes. “I hate being a bother to you.”

She heard him chuckle under his breath. “Hush now, SiSi. You’re no bother,” he soothed. “Sungie will be back in a moment and we’ll get you on your way home, ok?”

“‘Home’?” The exhausted girl blinked in confusion at the word. “But how?” Her question earned another quiet laugh.

“Don’t worry. Lixie will get you there safe and sound.”

“Felix,” his name falling off her lips as her eyes rolled back in her head. Even just the mention of him turned her stomach to knots and warmth flooding her chest.

“Yeah, your Felix will take good care of you.” She couldn’t see the soft smile on his face but she could hear it in his voice. And his words did ungodly things to her mind.

Your Felix. ‘My Felix,’ her thoughts purred at the prospect. The idea of him belonging to her sent her heart into a frenzy. Every fiber of her being craved to be with him. To feel his arms wrapped around her, to breathe in his intoxicating scent, to hear his deep, rich voice speak her name, to feel her heart beating in time with his. Her eyes flew open, the air punched out of her lungs with a single realization.

“Mate,” she breathed. She knew what she wanted. Even in the fog of her heat, her feelings were clear. She wanted to spend all of her time with him, her whole future.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there frozen. The next thing she knew, Han was crouched in front of her with his hands on her face, looking very concerned. “Siya? Siya, can you hear me?”

She blinked a few times trying to dissipate the lingering shock at the edges of his mind. “Huh?” She questioned dumbly.

Han smiled at the response. “There you are! Come on. Your chariot awaits,” he teased as he helped her stand. Her legs felt like jello. If Han wasn’t holding onto her, she definitely would have slid back down to the floor. “Nice and slow. That’s it. Good job! One step at a time,” the omega praised as he helped her exit the bathroom.

Minho held the door for them, his brows knitted with concern at the sight of her but quickly hardened as he hurried to lead them at point. She also spotted Chan blocking off a hallway intersecting the back door.

Her legs shook beneath her as they passed the alpha, his warm sea salt scent making it difficult for her to move. Her body betraying her as it longed for an alpha’s touch. Alpha alpha alpha , it called as her pheromones pulsed off her skin.

A low growl rumbled from the older alpha, his eyes dark and almost unrecognizable as he took two looming steps towards her. Minho snarled as he lunged in between them just in time before Chan pounced.

He wrestled with their leader and managed to keep him at bay but it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. “Get her out of here, Hannie! Now !” Minho ordered urgently.

“Shit,” Han cursed under his breath, eyes wide and worried glued to the struggle. But he did as he was told, scooping Siya up bridal style. “I’ll come back!” He promised over his shoulder as he booked it towards the back door.

As soon as he burst through the exit, the cool open air soothed her burning skin, causing her to sigh. Han didn’t stop, running a few more feet before another alpha’s scent sent her body into overdrive as she squirmed in the omega’s grasp.

Sweet vanilla thickened in her airway the closer Han brought her to the alpha. “Felix,” she moaned.

“I’m here Sweetie,” the alpha said softly, voice muffled. She turned her head to see his helmet was already on his head, visor down and ready for him to drive. It also effectively blocked some of her pheromones from reaching his nostrils, allowing him to stay somewhat focused.

She whimpered, being unable to see his eyes constructed her chest. His hands squeezed hard on the handle grips. If he let go of either one, he didn’t know what he would end up doing.

Han swung her legs to straddle the bike, her arms automatically wrapping tightly around Felix’s leather clad torso. Her heated body snuggled close to his back, rubbing and squirming for as much contact as she could manage. The alpha hummed a pleased growl to soothe the omega.

Han maneuvered the passenger helmet over her head and secured the strap under her chin. She was grateful that it wasn’t the full head helmet because she was sure she’d feel like she was suffocating in her current condition.

“There, all set.” Han huffed in relief, turning to Felix with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re good?” He questioned, giving him an out if he didn’t think he could go through with it anymore.

“All good,” Felix confirmed, revving the bike’s engine to say he was ready.

Han nodded, leaning in to whisper something to the alpha. “Take good care of your omega, Lixie,” he said before backing away and rushing back inside to check on his mate.

Felix’s whole body had stiffened from the words. His omega. His . Mate . Warmth flooded his chest and he craved to touch the petite girl pressed flush against his back. He gritted his teeth, pushing back into her embrace, earning a sweet pur from the omega.

“Hold on tight baby. I’m gonna drive fast to get you home, ok?” He instructed, feeling her nod of agreement against his back to give him the go ahead.

The bike's engine roared as its tires peeled out, black trails scorching the pavement behind them.

#stray kids smut #skz felix smut #skz Felix x OC #minsung smut #stray kids fanfic

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